The National tribune. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1877-1917, 1881-10-22
THE IRON SHROUD.
BY WILLIAM MUDFORD.


when Vivenzio imagined he might expect tn
signs, he stood fixed and silent as statue. HI
feared to breathe, almost, lest he might lose any
sound which would warn him of their coming
While thus listening, with every faculty of min(
and body strained to an agony of attention i
occurred to him he should be more sensible O
the motion, probably, if he stretched himsel
along the iron floor. He accordingly laid him
self softly down, and had not been long in that
position when-yes, he was certain of 1.-THE
floor moved under him. He sprang up, and in
a voice suffocated nearly with emotion called
aloud. He paused-the motion ceased-he felt
no stream of aiT-all was hushed-no voice
answered to his-he burst into tears; and as he
sunk to the ground, in renewed anguish, ex-
exclaimed, 40 my God! my God! You alone
have power to save me now, or strengthen me
for the trial you permit"
Another morning dawned upon the wretched
captive, and the fatal index of his doom met his
eyes Two windows and t,co days-and all
would be over! Fresh food-fresh water! The
mysterious visit had been paid though he had
implored it in vain. But how awfully was his
prayer answered in what he now saw! The
roof of the dungeon was within foot of his
head; the two ends were so near that in six
PAGES he trod the space between them. Vivenzio
shuddered as he gazed, and as his steps traversed
the narrow area; but his feelings no longer
vented themselves in frantic wailings With
folded arms and clenched teeth: with ewes that
were blood-shOt from much watching and fixed
with vacant glare upon the ground with a
hard, quick breathing and hurried walk he
strobe backward and forward in silent musing
for several hours. What mind shall conceive
what tongue utter, or what pen describe, the
dark and terrible character of his thoughts?
Like the fate that moulded them they had no
similitude in the wide range of this worlds
agony for man. Suddenly he stopped and his
eyes were riveted upon that part of the wall
which was over his bed of straw Words are
inscribed there! A human language traced by
a human hand He rushes towards them: but
his blood freezes as he reads:
L, LudOvico Sforza, tempted by the gold of the
Prince OF TOlf, spent three years in contriving
and executing this accursed triumph of my art
When it was completed, the perfidious Toli.
more devil than man, who conducted me hither
one morning to be witness as he said of its per-
fectiOn, doomed me to be the first victim of nv
own pernciOus skill, lest, as he declared should
dIvulge the secret, or repeat the effort of my in
genuity. May God pardon him. as / hope he
will me, that ministered to his unhallowed pur-
pose. Miserable wretch, whOe'er thou art that
readest these lines fall on thy knees and invoke
as have done, His sustaining mercy who alone ,
can nerve thee to meet the vengeance of ToIf |
armed with his tremendous engine which. in a |
few hours must crush you, as it will the needy /
wretch who made it."
A deep groan burst from Vivenzio He stood. /
like one transfiXed with dilated eyes, expanded .
nostrils, and quivering lips, gazing at this fatal
inscription. Itwas as if voice from the sepulchre
had sounded in his ears, Prepare" Hope for
sock him. There was his sentence recorded in
those dismal words. The future stood unveiled
before him, ghastly and appalling His brain
already feels the descending horror: his bones
seem to crack and crumble in the mighty grasp
Of the iron walls! Unknowing what it is he
does, he fumbles in his garment for some weapon
Of selfdestruction. He clenches his throat i'm |
ms conyulsive grippe, as though he would strangle
himself at once. He stares upon the walls: and
MS warning spirit demands, :" VIII they not an
lclpate their Office if | dash my head against
.hem?" An hysterical laugh chokes him as he
sxclaims, Why should /? He was but man
who died first in their fierce embrace: and I
should be less than man not to do as much!n
The evening sun was descending, and Vivenzio
,eheld its golden beams streaming through one
# the windows. What thrill of ioy shot | !
through his soul at the sight. 1t was precious
ink that united him, for the moment. with the ,
world beyond. There was ecstacy in the thought. ,
As he gazed, long and earnestly, it seemed as
f the windows had lowered sufficiently for him
o reach them. With one bound, he was beneath
hem; with one wild spring, he chung to the bars
Whether it was so contrived, purposely to mad
len with delight the wretch who looked he knew |
lot; but, at the extremity of long vista cut d,
through the solid rocks, the ocean, the sky, the
citing sun, olive groves shady walks and, in
ne farthest distance, delicious glimpses of mag .
ltcent Sicily, burst upon his sight. How ex-
ulslte was the cool breeze as it swept across his
heck. loaded with fragrance, He inhaled il as
hOugh 1t were the breath of continued life.
md there was freshness in the landscape. and
q the ripping of the calm, green sea, that
I'll upon his whitening heart like dew upon the n