St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1885-08-07
ENTOMBED ALIVE.
A; Weird Tale of = Fri-htfuI

improbable as it may seem in this age of
gentler and more humane principles, it is
nevertheless true, and the leading facts so
well authenticated that L feel obliged to
conceal the real names of the persons and
places concerned therein,
Hard by the beautiful old church of San
Marco there dWelt. at the beginning of the
present century, an honest bricklaver. Marco
Gomez by name. He was poor. except in
an upright and sunny disposition. ever
ready to share what he had Of this worlds
goods with bis neighbor, and day after day
c~ontentedly eating his gaSpacho and prais-
ing GOD and his patron saint for their man
mold mercleS TO him a poor sinner-a guile
less, happy nature, 'such as one often and
perhaps only finds among the lower classes
in Spain.
One Sultry morning In May Marco was
awakened by a sharp knocking at the door
OF ms little tiie-roofed cabana. and hasten
ing to answer the luminous he started at
the appearance Of two masked men. who
told him h~urriediE, in courteous peremptory
tones, that they desired his services in de-
moIlshlhg and rebuilding a brick wall, and
Dade him to take the necessary implements.
Having then blindfolded him they led him
TO a carriage stationed a few yards Off. The
carriage set forth at first slowly, and gradu-
- ~ ~ 80 p~NNs -4NiSO IL DN IliiO
time partially recovered his equanimity. and
the promise OF a remuneration, which to
him sounded like unbOunded wealth, further
tended to restore his courage.
"Ah," thought he, Il am to aid in con-
cealing a treaSure-perhaps bags of precious
stones-they say such things are often
done. Well, what care / for precious
stones? l shall be rich, and Maria la Git
anilla shall have a bright, new pair of ear
rings to sport at the fair"
Thus buried in his pleasing recoIlections
Marco hardly noticed how far they had
driven. Very far, though, for it was full
half all hour since they had left the cabana.
At length the carriage drew up, and he was
helped out by his mysterious companions.
II lied into what he thought must be q
patio, form the silence he could hear the
murlnur OF q fountain, and the air was la
den With the fragrance of orange blossoms.
How came it that to Marcos fancy the gen
tie ripple and low murmur OF that fountain
We're as the weeping and wailing of one in
sore distress. He follOwedh his guide blindly
across the patio, through a massive gateway
which clanked heavily behind them, up a
staircase, and at last he was allowed to I'M
cover his eyes.
They are III a large, square room, deSti-
tute Of furniture. and but dimly lighted by
an oil lamp standing on the floor in the
corner. By this imperfect light Marco is
able to note the dress and carriage Of his
conpanions-caballeros undoubtedly-per-
haps mobiles Of high degree. One of these
came forward, while the other left the room
II drawing a line on the bare white wall
showed him where he was to tear it down.
Marco went cheerily to work, and, in spite
of its great thickness, in less than half an
hour he opened a space about five feet
square, according to instructions. Albeit a
little surprised at the size Of the opening,
Marco suspected nothing until the door
opened to admit the man who had previ-
ously left the room, but not alone, for this
time he half carried, half dragged a young
girl, clothed in black and so closely yelled
that her features were scarcely diScernible.
The poor girl was but half conscious; I'M
doubtedly she had been heavily drugged,
but nevertheless she made some faint resist
ance. Tho men stroVe to smother her
mOanS-one holding her fast while the
other covered her mouth with his hand
and thus with many a muttered oath they
thrust her into the space just opened. The
helpless victim fell back apparently ~lifeless.
The petrified spectator Of this cruel
scene was reused by a threat
ening voice commanding him to
rebuild the wall. The Wretched man,
frozen with horror, fell upon his knees and
implored mercy-mercy for himself and the
poor girl. IN vain. Their hearts were cal
lous-they knew no mercy. Raising him
roughly from the floor, the two men forced
him to begin his terrible task.
'Oh, senior, for the love of God kill me.
but spare me this terrible crime! Have
pity-if not upon me, upon her."
Fool. do you not see she is dead? Do
you wish to join her?"
Rut why DroIonp tbic frirb+Ful eooDoo
The devilish work was accomplished. and
the hapless victim OF mans inhumanity con-
signed TO a living tomb. Like one in a
dream, Marco submitted to be once more
blindfolded and led down to the courtyard:
but bark! What was that? The bell Of
San Marco striking one! Yes, there was 10
mistake, it was the familiar sound Marco
had learned to love-the great hour
bell of San Marco. Was he dreaming?
Here, so far from his house-and yet it
rang out clear and loud, and near,-ran
out hope; and the poor bricklayer could
scarce restrain q cry of JOY. All San
Marco had heard his agOniZed prayer in the
fatal chamber abOve-his patron had heard
and answered!
All night long Marco PAGES his little
room; no rest for him tonight; he must not
~sleep-sleep might bring forgetfulness. He
must remember-remember. All! what is
this strange dizziness? At length day
dawns. One hour more, and Marco is stand
ing before the alcade relating his tale OF
horror. eyes. senior, they once more led
me down to the patio. We were not with
out the gates of the city, as L had supposed,
for at that moment l heard-Ah. what was
it [ heard?-Oh, my head!" and Marco
falls back senseless. All day and all night
the authorities made f~ruitleSS S~earch-house
after house, all over the city; In vain, they
must needs give up i'll despair, and leave the
poor girl to her fate. Marco lies danger
ously ill i'll delirium, tended by his faithful
niece, Maria Ia Gitanilla, who sits by his
side listening to his inceSSant rawlings, and
from time to time moistening his parched
and feyerish lips. Not a word does he say
of the event in which he has just played so
important d part. Has he forgotten!
Midnight! Suddenly Marco is silent, the
rawlings cease. He rises from his couch, and.
with firm step and set face, crosses the
threshold of the door. Maria follows; there
is a look in his eyes which prevents her from
tryingto hold him back. She can but follow
-tremblingly, anXiouSly. AS if impelled by
irresistible force, Marco goes swiftly for
ward, past the church and down a by-street,
until one Of the principal t~horoughfares is
reached. He pauses before a magnificent
house of Moorish architecture; the massive
oaken door is ajar. Marco pushes it gently
open, and they find themselves in a patio.
4 beautiful fountain plays softly in the
center, surrounded by poisoning orange
trees. Three huge iron cancelas, or gates,
lead to the different parts of the mansion.
The delicate marble arches CLEAN white in
the moonlight.
Nuttaring In himself Marco OoeS STRAIGHT