CHAPTER XI.
LOST IN THE CATACOMBS.--THE ANTIQUARY'S STORY.
The next morning broke dull and cheerless. It had been snowing hard allnight, and was snowing still, and so murky was the atmosphere that theclub was obliged to breakfast by candle-light, and indeed continued toburn candles till early noon.
Our artist was in despair about the weather, for he reckoned upon a longsitting from his fair model, and, under the circumstances, painting wasimpossible, so he wandered gloomily about the inn like a wild animal ina cage. Breakfast over, a discussion arose as to what should be theorder of the day. Some voted for cards, others felt inclined for chess,yet no one felt a very strong longing for any one thing in particular.It was one of those melancholy days when a man really does not know whatto do with himself. Some yawned and stretched themselves, others gazedgloomily out into the darkness, until someone suddenly recollected thatit was Mr. Oldstone's turn to tell a story, so without more delay,chairs were drawn round the fire, Jack Hearty was called for to put on afresh log, pipes were lit, and Mr. Oldstone forced into an arm-chair andpressed to begin his story without further preface.
Our host was invited to remain, but he excused himself on the score ofbusiness. Helen was also called away to help her mother in householdaffairs; but this, of course, the club could not hear of, so after somelittle parley, she was reluctantly permitted to keep the club company,as one of the members observed it would be hard indeed to deprive theclub of Helen in such weather, as her face was the only sunshine theywere likely to get all day. Helen smiled somewhat confusedly at thisbroad compliment, and then accepted a seat placed for her betweenMcGuilp and Parnassus.
The company drew nearer to the fire, one of the members giving apreliminary poke at the log, while Oldstone, after tapping his snuff-boxand taking from its inside a copious pinch of snuff to clear his memory,threw himself back in his easy-chair, and folding his hands, commencedhis story thus:--
When I was in Rome, many years ago, with my friend and brotherantiquary, Rustcoin, well-known to most of you gentlemen, and especiallyto my friend Mr. Vandyke McGuilp. We had put up together during theearly part of our stay in a large Hotel in a fashionable quarter of thecity.
We were both young then, and furnished with ample means for travelling.It had been the dream of my youth to visit the eternal city, and here Ifound myself, free for the first time in my life to wander about to myheart's content among the venerable ruins of antiquity, the history ofwhich had so interested me from my boyhood.
Being neither pushed for time nor money, having a comfortable littleincome left me upon the death of my parents, I never could make up mymind to follow any profession in particular, and having from my youthupwards always had a passion for antiquarian lore, I resolved to make itthe study of my life. Rustcoin was similarly situated to myself, and wehave always pulled wonderfully together. Not a day passed but someinteresting ruin, church, or picture gallery, was explored, a minutedescription of which was immediately entered into my diary with a viewto a grand archaeological work which I intended for the press, and whichwas afterwards published.
We knew the Vatican by heart, St. Peters, and all the chief churches.Had visited the Capitol, the Forum, the Palace of the Caesars, theColosseum, the baths of Caracalla, of Titus, of Diocletian, the Pantheonand other antique temples. One sight, however, I had not yet been tosee, and that was the catacombs. They had always had, from my boyhood, agreat fascination for me, those dark, dank, mysterious subterraneanlabyrinths excavated by those pious enthusiasts, the early Christians,to shelter themselves from the persecutions of their pagan tyrants.Little did their oppressors imagine, I presume, when first a fewstraggling fanatics assembled clandestinely under the dark arches theyhad hewn for themselves out of the solid rock to carry on theirdevotions undisturbed by candle-light, that that little sect would oneday fill the wide world with its followers to the utter extinction ofthe old pagan superstitions.
How strange is destiny! Religious faith proved too strong for tyranny.Persecutions and martyrdoms were of no avail, for still the faithincreased. The very victims of the faith, too, the holy martyrsmagnified into heroes after death, as if in defiance of the old creed.
Well, gentlemen, these facts are as well known to all of you as tomyself, yet such were my reflections as I drove off one morning to visitthe catacombs of Saint Sebastian. But I anticipate. Rising one morningfilled with the idea of exploring these subterranean burial grounds asfar as they extended, though for twelve miles those indefatigable earlyChristians have undermined the eternal city, I breakfasted hurriedly,calculating on my friend's company, but Rustcoin happened to havebusiness on hand that day, and could not be persuaded to go, so Idetermined to start off alone.
A little before starting I accompanied Rustcoin down one of the bystreets to make a call, and whilst, waiting for him to return, I amusedmyself by looking into an antiquary's shop window. There were someancient Roman coins, some rusty Roman armour, pieces of Etruscanpottery, antique lamps and fragments of statuary. As I stood gazing atthese curiosities for some considerable time, the antiquary bowed me in,giving me to understand that I was at liberty to look over the contentsof his shop without being obliged to buy. He saw that I was anEnglishman, and evidently had an eye to business.
He showed me some fragments of Roman tombs bearing a portion of aninscription, some bronze pans, and other instruments used forsacrifices, some spearheads, some ancient mosaic, etc., etc. I was soonattracted by a plate of antique seals, and was poring over them with alens.
"Ah, signor," said the man, "I see you appreciate these gems of art.That ring that you are looking at now was found entire in a placeunderground, where the vestal virgins used to be buried alive whenconvicted of unchastity."
"What will you take for it?" I asked.
"Well, considering that it is such a fine gem of art, sir, I could notask less than four hundred scudi."
"Four hundred scudi!" I exclaimed. "Why, that is four thousand pauls,"said I.
"Precisely so, signor."
"Come, come," said I, pretending to be more knowing than I actually was."I see you take me for an Englishman. Well, if I am an Englishman, I amone who understands the value of these things, for I have had dealingsbefore in things of this sort."
Now, I had not the slightest idea of the prices that these articlesfetched, but knowing that it was perfectly necessary to beat down anItalian in a bargain, I took it for granted that he had asked justdouble, and said, "Come, now, without wasting time in further parley, Iwill give you the half of what you ask--two hundred scudi and not a jotmore," (being 40 pounds sterling.)
"Impossible, signor," said the man.
"Oh, very well, then," said I, "I wish you a good morning," and I madetowards the door.
"Stay, signor," said the shopman; "let us say three hundred and fiftyscudi; it is dirt cheap, and if I were not in immediate want of money Iwould not let it go at such a price."
"No," said I, walking out of the shop; "you know my terms; if you agreeto these, so much the better for you, if not, _Addio_," and off Iwalked.
I had got about half way down the street when the man ran out after me."Signor, only three hundred scudi; this is for the last time, think ofthat! It is a sin to let such a bargain slip."
"No, no," said I, "not even for two hundred and ten. I have said twohundred scudi, and I even grudge that, yet if you will take it----"
"Not even for two hundred and ten!" repeated the man. "O Gesu Maria!"added he, slapping his forehead.
"You seem anxious to get rid of it, my friend," said I, half-quizzingly.
"No, signor," replied he, "I can assure you it cuts me to the heart topart with such a gem, but I am a poor man with a large family, and Iwant money, otherwise I would not sell it for three times the amount."
"Well, then, if you want money," said I, dryly, "the best thing you cando is to assent to my terms, for I shall certainly give no more."
He seemed to reflect a little, and then with a shrug sai
d: "_Ebbene_, asthe signor wishes; but it is a dead loss to me; _you_, signor, are thewinner, not I."
So I paid him the money, and walked off with the ring on my finger thesame that I wear to this day, gentlemen. Here it is. There is no doubtthat it is a very excellent specimen of Graeco-Roman art, and is mostelaborately cut. I have not the slightest doubt, however, that I paidenough and more than enough for it, for as I followed the man with myeyes, I noticed an avaricious chuckle on his face, as an Italian shopmanmay be supposed to wear at having bamboozled an Englishman.
By this time my friend Rustcoin returned. I showed him my purchase, atwhich he went into raptures. I told him that I wished to visit thecatacombs that morning, and therefore could not accompany him further.He advised me to wait till the morrow, and that we should go together,but I had inwardly vowed that morning that go I would, and nothingshould prevent me; so telling Rustcoin that we should meet at dinner, Ihailed a carriage and drove off to the church of St. Sebastian.
It is a comparatively modern church, built upon the site of the ancientbasilisk supposed to have been erected by Constantine, and consecratedby St. Silvester, was renewed by the Pope San Domaso, and sincerepeatedly restored, being at length rebuilt in the year 1611.
On my arrival I found several carriages waiting outside. I entered thechurch, and there was a party of about a dozen English people, who hadlikewise come to visit the catacombs.
I joined the party, and we descended a flight of steps, each of usbearing in our hands a taper, or rather tall, narrow candle. We wereconducted by a lean, emaciated monk, who looked as if he had lived uponnothing but by inhaling the damp air of the catacombs. As we descended,the first object shown us was a bust of St. Sebastian by Bernini, overthe tomb of the saint, and near was an altar under which was interredthe body of St. Lucine.
As we walked along single file through these long dark corridors, theroofs of which were every now and then so low that we were obliged tostoop, we were shown the graves of saints and martyrs who had beenentombed within the walls, every now and then arriving at some littlechapel, in the walls of which three or four popes had been buried.
The place where the altar had stood was also carved in the rock. Here wecame across a tomb with an inscription, there upon some rude drawings onthe wall by the early Christians, representing various sacred subjects.
Impatient at having to stand still and listen to the explanation of themonk who accompanied us and to hear the questions of this knot ofEnglish people, I felt an incontrollable impulse to strike out formyself into some new track, not meaning to content myself with the merefashionable route shown to foreigners.
I considered that I had not come there merely to have a peep at thesesubterranean vaults, for the sake of being able to say when I returnedto England that I had seen the catacombs, but intended whilst I wasabout it to investigate these mysterious haunts thoroughly andconscientiously, for the sake of discovering, if possible, someinscriptions or other relics worthy of note that I might describe in mygreat archaeological work, and thus hand my name down to posterity.
The investigation of some unknown region, especially if accompanied by aspice of danger, has always been with me a passion. I longed to be ableto do something that nobody yet had done. I could not but be aware ofthe danger of my resolution to explore these dusky labyrinths without aguide, yet I prepared myself in a measure against a contingency,carrying in my pocket an extra roll of paper, in case that which I borein my hand should come to an end, and a tinder-box.
Besides this, I had filled my pockets with bread, partly in case ofextreme emergency, to sustain life, and partly to drop in crumbs behindme as I went to mark the way. I had commenced dropping my breadcrumbsfrom the very beginning and making slight excursions by myself, thenturning back to join the party of English.
Once or twice the monk called me back, and as I went and returnedseveral times, I suppose no notice was taken when I really did strikeout in an unbeaten track. I took an opportunity of starting when a stoutEnglish female was assailing our ascetic friend with trivial questionsin wretched Italian.
Whilst public attention seemed engrossed I started off with my taperthrough a long and apparently interminable passage, which I was told ledto Ostia, the ancient sea-port. No one called after me, so I suppose Iwas not missed.
On, and still further, on I went, groping my way until I could no longerhear the voices of the party, nor see the light of their tapers throughthe dim arches of the catacombs.
"Would the monk miss me and go in search of me, thus breaking short allhopes of my exploring expedition?" I asked myself.
To avoid this, or at least to see as much as possible of the forbiddenhaunts before I was caught, I walked on fast, not forgetting, however,to drop my breadcrumbs all the time.
There is a great sameness in all these catacombs, being long, straight,gloomy passages branching off in all directions, only varied atintervals with an occasional chapel, barely large enough to hold tenpeople crowded together, a simple, roughly-hewn cell in the rock, anddestitute of anything that an antiquarian might be tempted to pocket;however, whenever I came across an inscription of any interest Iimmediately jotted it down in my note-book.
Now, the thought of being lost in these terrible catacombs with theprospect before me of gradually dying of starvation without theslightest chance of succour had often occurred to my mind, and was ofall thoughts the most dreadful.
It was a daring thing I was attempting, and I own to experiencing aslight tremor, which increased the further I advanced. Yet, what had Ito fear? Was I not well provided with tapers and tinder-box? Had I notmarked the way with breadcrumbs besides carrying with me a good-sizedroll to allay hunger in case of emergency? What danger did I incur? So Istifled my fears and boldly proceeded, passing innumerable tombs ofsaints and martyrs, chapels, inscriptions, rude drawings on the wall,Latin names, etc.
If I still felt any lingering tremor, it was a pleasing fear that onlyspurred me on the more, and I had not the slightest inclination to turnback. The situation was a new one to me, and I experienced from it a newemotion. Here was I, a solitary individual in the bowels of the earth,with the gay world above me perfectly unconscious that one of their kindwas burrowing, taper in hand, beneath their very feet, treading in thefootsteps of those enthusiastic workmen who had excavated these vaults,and which had been untrodden since by foot of man!
What will not an enthusiast go through in the noble pursuit of science?My stock of bread was now completely exhausted. I had not left a crumbto satisfy my hunger in case of need, such was my enthusiasm topenetrate deeply into these unknown regions.
But what matter? When I felt hungry I could return at any time. Had Inot the clue? Thus I said to myself as I sprinkled my last remainingcrumbs behind me. I had now penetrated a very considerable distance intothis abode of the pious dead, when here an unforeseen and terribleaccident befell me. Walking onward and incautiously looking behind me asI proceeded, I did not observe a flight of steep steps, slippery fromthe damp slime that exudes below ground, and that led--where? I neverknew, for suddenly losing my footing, I fell headlong down into a darkabyss, where I lay stunned and senseless.
How long I remained thus it is impossible to tell, for when I recoveredmy senses sufficiently to grope around me, I could recollect nothing,but I found my head cut and bleeding profusely. I felt the warm bloodtrickling down my neck and matting my hair. I tried to stand upon myfeet, but swooned again from loss of blood. I had just presence of mindwhen I awoke from my swoon to bind up my head with a handkerchief.
I remained for long on the cold ground in a sitting posture and tried tocollect my ideas. Gradually I became aware of the horror of mysituation. Of course my taper was extinguished by my fall. I essayed torelight it, but the material was damp with the dews of the catacomb andwith my blood, besides which my strength failed me. I began to feelhungry, too, for I had eaten but a light breakfast. Could anything havebeen more pitiable than my plight? Wounded in the head and weakened withlos
s of blood, lost in the very heart of the catacombs without a light,without the barest prospect of mortal coming to my rescue, hungry, thelittle bread that I had taken with me wasted to make a clue which I nowfound it impossible to trace in the dark, and with every prospect of alingering death before me!
With difficulty I clambered up the steps and searched in vain for thecrumbs of bread on my hands and knees. I was nigh fainting again, butthat strong love of life that is instinctive in us all made me screw upmy nerves with a preternatural energy, and I essayed to shout for help.
Although I must have been aware of the futility of my attempts, we allknow that a drowning man will cling to a straw, so bracing my strengthup to its utmost possible pitch, I gave vent to a superhuman shriek,which re-echoed through the gloomy arches like the mocking laugh ofdemons.
The sound of my own voice in agony amidst the awful silence of thisplace of tombs sent a new thrill of horror through my frame, my nervesbeing rendered weak and sensitive by the loss of vital fluid I hadsustained, and jarred upon the full consciousness of my terriblesituation. I felt on the brink of madness. Every now and then I heardthe rumbling of carriage wheels over my head, like distant thunder inthe world above me, which enhanced still more the misery of myposition, for I could not help contrasting my lot with that of the happyindividual rolling over my head in his proud carriage, enjoying thebright sun and blue sky whilst I was doomed to be buried alive in thosehorrible catacombs, dying by inches in the greatest conceivable agony ofbody and mind, but few feet below that carriage road over which passedthe gay and thoughtless in their fashionable equipages.
I tried to call out again, but my voice failed me. "If I die," Ithought, "it must not be by inches, but at once, at a blow." I waspreparing to dash my head desperately against the wall, and thus put anend to my misery, but lacking strength, I fell down once more exhausted.
When I again awoke I felt both hungry and thirsty. The wound in my headhad ceased to bleed, but the handkerchief was saturated. I now felt thecalmness of despair. I knew nothing short of a miracle could save me, soI tried to reconcile myself to my condition. I could just walk, butslowly. I tried to retrace my steps, though at a snail's pace andwithout a clue.
The hopelessness of my condition now dawned upon me more clearly thanever. It was impossible even to retrace my steps alone and in the dark,especially in my weakened state. Why should I uselessly try a thing Iknew to be impossible? Why not lie quietly down and die? I sankhelplessly on the ground and gave up all hope. I felt that my end wasnot far off, and began to review my past life. The errors, the follies,the crimes during my brief existence chased each other with painfulvividness and rapidity through my memory. Not even the most triflingincident of my childhood was forgotten, but every event and thought ofmy life vividly, exactly and distinctly, traced with indelible fingerupon the tablets of my brain, passing before my mental vision like avast panorama.
It was then that I ventured to pray, and if I never prayed in my wholelife before, I did then. Well can I remember the agony of remorse I feltfor the precious time I had wasted. I was then five and twenty, aquarter of a century old, and what had I yet done to benefit my fellowcreatures? and what had I not done that lay in my power to gratify myown selfish wants? Could I call to mind even one _thoroughly_ good act?Were not even my best actions based upon a sort of selfishness? How Ilonged to live over again those five and twenty years!
What resolutions did I not make to turn over a new leaf for the futureif my Creator should be pleased to spare my young life! I prayedfervently and devoutly, such praying as only the most intense mentalagony can prompt the soul to, until my nervous system, overcome withexcessive tension, I sank into a sort of lethargy, something betweenlife and death. Emerging at length somewhat from this state, I began tomeditate thus:--
Is it possible that my young life is to be cut short in this manner? Isthis what I was born for--to perish miserably from the ill-consequencesof a foolish though innocent freak--or will the Almighty really hear myprayer? Have I not prayed fervently with all my heart and soul, and hasHe not promised to help those who trust in Him? I _will_ trust in Him. Iwill _not_ believe that the age of miracles has gone by never to return.
Miracles are wrought daily, though we do not acknowledge them as such. Ifelt a calmness and resignation at these thoughts, and almostindifferent if the Lord should be pleased to take my soul, or work somemiracle to save me from a lingering death. Either way I would have beencontent, for I now felt prepared to die, and had no fear of death.
I endeavoured to keep my faith in the mercy of my Creator firm andunwavering. If for a moment a slight doubt rose in my mind as to thelikelihood of the Deity working a miracle for my special benefit, it wasinstantly dismissed, and I prayed more earnestly. I _would_ believe, Iwould _not_ be robbed of my faith by the jeering of that mocking fiend,Doubt. I persisted in believing, and Doubt fled from me. I _felt_ Ishould be saved. I _knew_ it.
While thus meditating, methought that the extreme end of one of theselong corridors had grown a trifle lighter than it was a minute ago. Wasit a mistake, and merely the effect of my eyesight having grownaccustomed to the darkness?
No, for the light now grew rapidly brighter. Could it be that the monkswere coming in search of me?
Yes--no, for I now saw a solitary figure in the distance bearing acandle, but it was not the figure of a monk, for the garb was white, andapparently that of a female. I held my breath in wonder and expectation,whilst my heart thumped so loudly against my ribs that it might havecaused an echo. My eyes were steadfastly fixed on the figure as it movedslowly towards me. It was undoubtedly the figure of a woman clad in along white classic robe and a white head covering, such as worn by thepriestesses of old. The shoulders and arms were bare, and on one arm shewore a golden armlet, on her feet sandals. She was now sufficiently nearme for me to take a complete survey of her. Her face was pale anddreadfully emaciated, yet there were traces of great beauty left. Shemumbled something to herself which at first I took for Italian, but oncatching a word or two more, I had no difficulty in discovering it to beLatin, for she repeatedly muttered to herself the word "Peccavi,"beating her breast the while. I rose to my feet as she approached. Atfirst she appeared not to notice me and would have passed me. At lengthI addressed her in Italian. "Signora," I began, "I have lost my way inthe dark and am suffering from an accident; perhaps you can show me theway out of these catacombs, for I am weak and dying of hunger."
The figure gazed blankly at me in silence, which I attributed not somuch to surprise as to her not understanding the language in which Iaddressed her. At length she spoke in a faint sepulchral voice.
"_Quis es tu qui in hoc loco versaris?_"
To which I replied in the same classic tongue in which she addressed me.
"_Christianus sum, tu autem quis es?_" I am a Christian, but who artthou? To which she gave the following account of herself.
"_Virgo Vestalis sum, aut possius eram; nunc autem nec virgo necvestalis._"
"_Intelligo_," I answered--I understand--not willing to extort aconfession that might be painful to her, but she seemed communicativeand inclined to enlighten me further.
"_Audi!_" she continued, "_quandam eram in mundo virum amavi.Christianus erat, et propter meum crimen quod perpetravi cum viro hocChristiano, ad mortem damnata viva sepulta fui. Attaman cum ante meammortem fuerim ad Christifidem conversa, nunc meus spiritus hac illuc hocin loco versatur._"
I expressed my deepest sympathy for her sufferings in the best Latin Icould muster, and indeed I was well able to sympathise with her, for didnot _I_ feel what it was to be buried alive and to endure the gnawingpangs of hunger?
"Alas, poor ghost!" I felt inclined to say, with Hamlet, and I could nothelp muttering to myself, "How hard, alas!--just for one fault, for onepiece of human frailty, resulting from the over tenderness of a woman'sheart, to die such a horrible death."
"_An es estraneus in hoc loco?_" she asked me, having overheard mysoliloquy and perceiving that it was i
n a foreign tongue.
"_Civis Brittanicus sum_," I replied, and then I began to relate myhistory, my misfortunes, and how I had prayed to be delivered from sucha dreadful death, begging her to show me the way out of these horridcatacombs as soon as possible.
"_Hac conditione_,"--On this condition--she said.
"_Quaenam est?_" What is it? I asked.
She replied thus: "_Annulus quem in digito geris quem quidem circiterquinque Sestertia valet et meus erat nom habui a viro quem delexi vendead levandum meum spiritum._"
Here was a surprise! The ring that I had purchased previously tostarting off for the catacombs belonged and had been worn by the spiritbefore me when in the flesh! The man of whom I bought it spoke the truththen--when he said that it had been found where the vestal virgins usedto be buried alive. What a curious coincidence! Now I was called upon tosell it again to pay for masses for the poor disembodied spirit, and asa condition of being set free myself from this dungeon. I was loth topart with the ring I had paid so highly for, especially now that such aninteresting history was attached to it. Yet, what will not a man do tosave his life?
"_Sic erit_," I replied. It shall be done.
"_Jamnunc sequere me_," said she, beckoning to me with her paleemaciated finger, which together with the hand and arm was so skinnythat it might have belonged to a skeleton. I followed accordingly, andwas led through many a long corridor, passing many a tomb of martyredsaint, though by a different route to that which I had taken. My guidewalked on before me in silence. That is to say, she did not conversewith me more, but ever to herself I heard the muttered words "_Peccavi!peccavi!_" beating her breast as she went.
As I followed my guide, my ears suddenly caught the tones of distantchanting.
"_Quid sibi volunt cantus isti?_" What is the meaning of that singing?
She answered merely by beckoning me on and hastening her steps. Thesinging grew more and more distinct, and as we approached I noticed adim gleam of light ahead. Then, shortly turning a corner, I found myselfsuddenly in a little chapel, like, in appearance, to the rest I hadseen, but lighted up with many candles, and with an altar on which stooda rudely-carved crucifix, a chalice, etc.
But how shall I describe my horror, consternation, and disgust onbeholding the strange congregation there assembled? It was easy to seewith half an eye that they were no beings of this world. They wereseven, I think, in number; indeed, the chapel had hardly room for more,and to my dying day, never can I forget that horrible sight. One ofthem, who stood at the altar, and who seemed to be the priest, hadevidently been decapitated. He stood upright, holding his head under hisarm.
Another, who was naked with the exception of a cloth round his loins,was bound to a stake and pierced full of arrows, _a la_ St. Sebastian.Another, who had been sawn asunder lengthways, was held together bypieces of rope. One gentleman, who had been skinned alive for the holyfaith, was a most unsightly object, and reminded me of those anatomicalfigures you see in doctors' shops. Whenever he moved, the working of hisanatomy was most painfully visible, and he wore his skin over his leftarm like an overcoat.
There was another, who had evidently been burnt, for he was as black asa cinder, and presented a most woe-begone aspect. A sixth had probablybeen torn to pieces by some wild beast, for his flesh bore the print oftalons, and here and there hung in long strips, while a seventh had beenbroken on the wheel, and seemed capable of bending his body into themost impossible positions.
My blood ran cold at such a spectacle, and turning to my guide, I askedthe meaning of this strange sight. She informed me that they were allspirits of early Christians who had suffered martyrdom.
"Then why," I asked, "are they not in Paradise instead of celebratingmass here in these catacombs?"
The reason she gave me was that they had all been massacred in theirsin, and their spirits not being yet pure enough to enter the realms ofeternal bliss, they were, like herself, doomed to go through theirreligious duties as on earth, until masses should be said for theirdeliverance. This, she told me, was her object in leading me here--thatI might see the misery of these wretched spirits, and pray for them. Ipromised I would do so, and mass being finished, she introduced me tothe skinned gentleman, whom, she informed me, was her lover. He bowed,grinned horribly, and offered me his anatomical hand, after which I hada word with each of the spirits in turn, and then prepared to take mydeparture.
"_Ora pro nobis!_" they all cried at once.
"_Sic erit_," I replied, and following my guide once more, she led meagain through many long and dreary passages, which seemed to meinterminable, she walking rapidly in front, whilst I dragged my jadedlimbs considerably in the rear, led on by no other light than theluminous halo that enveloped her form, and which barely lit up the spoton which she stood, all else being in pitchy darkness. At length Ithought I felt the ground ascending somewhat, and as I proceeded everslowly upwards, I fancied that I saw a ray of sunlight strugglingthrough a fissure in the rocky roof of the vault. I was not mistaken.The nearer I came, the larger grew the spot of light, and I now sawclearly that there was a very considerable opening, amply sufficient toadmit of the body of a very large man passing through it, but quiteovergrown by brambles and rank vegetation, so as effectively to veil theblue sky from my view. Even through this screen of rank herbage thelight dazzled my eyes intensely, and it was some minutes before I gotsufficiently accustomed to it. The ground now grew suddenly steeper,till I at length found myself within a few steps of the fissure. Myguide now halted, and pointing to the opening with her hand, made wayfor me to pass on in front.
It would seem that the bright sunbeam as it fell upon her affected hersomewhat, for I noticed that her form grew less distinct, until thevaporous essence that assumed her shape disintegrated piecemeal,beginning at the head, gradually downwards, till she completely vanishedfrom my presence. Not, however, before I had time to thank her in herown classical language.
"_Pro tuis beneficiis gratias ago._"
To which she barely had time to reply "_Vale!_" when she became extinct,and I was left once more alone.
But now I had hope--I was free. Another step, and I should be launchedinto the outer world again. Hungry, thirsty, fatigued as I was, I shouldsoon be able to satisfy my present wants and then--and then--with all myyoung life before me, what might I not achieve? My first feeling was oneof intense gratitude towards my Creator, who had saved me from aterrible and lingering death. It was like being born again. I advancedtowards the opening, and was just about to move aside the luxuriantgrowth that alone separated me from the world without, when methought Iheard human voices outside proceeding from no very long distance fromthe aperture. Even a human shadow flitted for a moment across theopening, obscuring for a second some of the glowing sunlight.
I was loth to emerge from my hiding place into the open air in sight ofmen, as, besides startling them, I should myself become an object ofwonderment and create a scene I particularly wished to avoid. So Iresolved to pause awhile until they should presently pass on, when Icould emerge alone and unobserved. In this I was disappointed; theyseemed to have no intention whatever of moving on. There they satapparently over their meal, chatting at intervals. It was impossible butthat I should thus overhear some fragments of their conversation, andwhat I _did_ hear made my blood run cold.
"Dost remember, Gaspero," said one, "on our last sally, when we capturedthe fat landowner from Montefiascone, and sent him back to his friendswith his nose and his ears slit because they wouldn't send the ransom intime?"
"_Corpo di Bacco!_ don't I?" answered another. "But I'll tell you what,if the 'Cavalli leggeri' get wind of our whereabouts this time, it willbe short shrift for all of us."
"Bah!" said a third, "haven't we good spies enough always on the alertto warn us of their approach?"
"True," said the former, "but don't let us talk, or we shall miss thesignal."
Then silence reigned for a brief space, broken now and again by somecasual remark hardly audible. Here was a pretty
to do! Had I beenrescued from death by starvation only to stumble upon a nest ofbrigands? Oh, the irony of it! I trembled for the loss of the littlegold I had upon me, but more still for the precious ring upon my finger.
"I must risk nothing," I said to myself, "and bide here in patience atany cost till they depart."
I dreaded lest the beating of my own heart--so audible to myself--shouldbetray me. Thus a full hour or more passed away, when on a sudden Iheard a sound like the hooting of an owl in the distance.
"The signal--the signal!" exclaimed several voices at once, and up theyjumped like one man and took to their heels with the speed of lightning.
I began to emerge from my cavern, and just managed to catch a glimpse ofsome peaked hats, carbines, and sandalled legs, which soon disappearedfor ever from my view. I was now once more under the clear dome ofHeaven. The sky was absolutely cloudless, the heat intense. I shaded myeyes with my hand to protect them from the glare of the hot sun whichnow shone mercilessly down upon my bare head, for my hat had been leftfar behind me in that subterranean burial place. I tried to realise mysituation. Where was I? I was in the centre of a very arid plain withblue mountains on the horizon and lines of ruined aqueducts in themiddle distance. Not a hut within sight. The sun was intolerable, and Ifelt ready to faint from hunger and exhaustion. I gathered some broadgreen leaves to protect my head, and then looked around me forsomething to assuage the pangs of hunger.
I recollected that the brigands had been carousing close to the openingof my cave, so I returned thither to inspect the spot. To my intense joyI discovered some broken victuals. There were sundry crusts of bread,some cheese parings, a few slices of raw ham, a whole leg of a chicken,besides other bones not quite bare, which I devoured ravenously. Also ahard-boiled egg and half a flask of good wine. All this I put away invery short time, but I wanted more. It was barely enough to whet myappetite. However, I felt better, and could now contemplate my pastadventures with great complacency.
The next question was, in what part of the world was I? Which courseshould I steer? North, south, east, or west. I feared being benightedand losing my way altogether. I sat down on a clump of ancient ruin tocollect my ideas. Presently I heard faintly in the distance the peculiarcry of a Roman bullock driver, as he goaded on his sluggish team. Iraised my eyes, and saw about half-a-mile off one of those drays drawnby buffaloes and laden with large blocks of white marble from themountains for the use of sculptors. I hastened my steps and hailed thedriver.
"_Accidentaccio!_" cried the man in amazement and horror at the sight ofmy bleeding head and general woe-begone appearance.
"What a sight! _Che diavolo!_----"
Here followed a string of questions which I felt in no humour to answer,so I cut him short by asking him to let me get upon his dray, as Iwanted a little sleep, and that I would remember him as soon as wearrived at the gates of Rome.
"Certainly, signore," said the man, brightening up, "and if you wouldlike a covering for your head from the sun----"
Here he produced some sort of light drugget--there was no othercovering, for the dray was only constructed to carry marble and notpassengers.
So I mounted, and flung myself full length on a large block of marble,covering my head well up and endeavouring to sleep. So complete was mystate of utter exhaustion that even my uncomfortable position and therough jolting of the cumbersome dray when its massive wheels encounteredsome big stone combined with the constant cry of the driver in my earsas he goaded on his sluggish brutes of burden, was all insufficient toprevent nature from taking her proper course, and I actually slept--ay,slept like a top, spite of heat, dust, flies, noise, etc., until towardsnightfall I reached the gates of Rome. The stars shone out with unusualsplendour. I felt considerably refreshed after my long slumber, so Idescended, and remunerating the driver liberally, entered the eternalcity.
My first thought was to hasten off to a hatter's, where I purchased ahat, and then called upon a doctor. He was out, so I left my address,leaving word for him to call at my hotel in the Piazza di Spagna on themorrow, at ten in the morning. I then repaired to my hotel and heardthat my friend Rustcoin had been inquiring for me, and marvelled much atmy absence. I then had a wash and a brush down, changed the bloodstainedhandkerchief for a clean one, and ordered supper in my room.
On the morrow, punctually at ten, the doctor made his appearance. Heexamined my wound, prescribed me a lotion, and then asked how theaccident had occurred. In my youthful simplicity I related my tale frombeginning to end, omitting no detail.
He looked at me suspiciously, shook his head, and said that the dangerwas even more than he thought. He had no doubt that besides the wound inmy head, I was likewise suffering from sunstroke, which would accountfor these hallucinations.
Could anything be more irritating? After all the trouble I had taken inrelating my adventures, even to the merest details--to be looked uponeither as a madman or impostor! He admitted that I might possibly havebeen to explore the catacombs, that I might have had a fall which causedthe wound in my head, but as to the apparition of the vestal virgin andher unsightly friends, he would have none of it, admitting that he wasdeaf upon principle to all tales of the supernatural, because they wereimpossible. Adding that he was very much surprised to find a young manof education like myself--and moreover an Englishman--still believingin such antiquated superstitions. He took his leave and said he wouldcall the next day.
He came and found me quite convalescent, so soon took his departure witha shrug, finding that I still believed in the actuality of my vision. AsI was leaving my hotel for a stroll I ran up against Rustcoin, who wasabout to call upon me. You can imagine, my friends, his wonder onhearing me recount my adventures.
There is little more left to relate. I proceeded in company with myfriend to several shops to endeavour to sell the ring, but at none ofthem would they give me back the sum I gave for it, or anything like it,so I resolved upon keeping the ring and paying the monks what I had paidfor it, which amounted to the same thing. So if my spirit friends arenot by this time in Paradise, it is no fault of mine.
* * * * *
"Here is the ring, gentlemen," said Mr. Oldstone at the conclusion ofhis narrative, taking the precious relic from his forefinger and passingit round for inspection. "You will observe it is a most exquisitespecimen of Graeco-Roman art of the very best period, and believe me,gentlemen, when I assure you that the wealth of the universe wouldn'tpurchase it."
Loud were the expressions of admiration that passed round the table atthe beauty of this antique gem, as well as the delight and satisfactionof our antiquary's story.
END OF VOLUME I.
Transcriber's Note:
Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note.
Tales of the Wonder Club, Volume I Page 12
