Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1893-06-16

wi-Ly ABOUT him-strctch forth
his hands, to be sure that he
yet had space enough TO livc-and,
muttering some incoherent words, sink
down again, to pass through the same
fierce yicissitudes of delirious sleep
The morning of the fourth day
dawncd upon Vivenzio. But ii was
high noon before his mind shook off its
stupor, or he awolze to full conscious.
ness OF his situation. And what 4 fixed
energy OF despair sat upon his pale
features rs he cast his eyes upward
and gazed upon the THREE window.
that now alone remained The threel
there were no more-and they seemed
TO mum ber his allotted days. Slowly
and calmly he next surveyed the top
and sides, and eomprehended all the
meaning of the diminished height of
the former, as well rs of the gradual
approximation of the latter. The con
/ tracted dimensions of his mysterious
/ prison were now too gross and palpa BILE
to be the juggle of his heated imagina.
! ton Still lost in wonder at the means,
/ Nivenzio could put no cheat upon his
reason. as to the end. BY what horri-
bic ingenuity it was contrived, that
walls and roof and windows should
/ thus silently and imperceptibly, with
out noise, and without motion almost,
/ fold, as it were, within each other he
/ knew not He only knew they did So
/ and he vainly strove to persuade him
self it was the intention of the con-
! triver to rack the miserable wretch,
who might be immured there, with an
/ ticipation, merely. of 4 fate. from
which, in the very crisis of his agony,
he was to be reprieved.
Gladly would he have clung even to
this possibility, if his heart would have
/ let him; but he felta dreadful assurance
of its fallacy And what matchless in
humanity it was to doom the sufferer
| to such lingering torments-to lead him
| day by day to so appalling death,
unsupported by the eonsola tions of re-
ligion, unvisited by any human being,
abandoned to himself, deserted of all,
and denied even the sad privilege of
knowing that his cruel destiny would
awaken pity! Alone he was to perishl-
alone he was to wait u slow-coming
torture, whose most exquisite pangs
would be inflicted by that very solitude
and that tardy comingl
1T is not death fear, he exclaimed,
but the death l must prepare forl
Methinks, too, 1 could meet even that
all horrible and revolving as it is-if
| it might overtake me now But where
shall | find fortitude to tarry till it
comes? How can I outlive the three
long days and nights | have to live?
| There Is no power within me to bid the
hideous spectre hence-none to make it
familiar to my thoughts, or myself pa
tient OF its errand. My thoughts,
rather, will flee from me, and l grow
mad in looking at it. OH for deep
sleep to fall upon me! That so, in
deaths likeness 1 might embrace
death itself, and drink no more of the
cup that is presented to me than my
fainting spirit has already tasted"
In the midst of these lamentations,
Vivenzio noticed that his accustomed
meal, with the pitcher of water, had
been conveyed, as before, into his dun
geon But this circumstance no longer
excited his surprise. His mind was
overwhelmed by others of far greater
magnitude. 1t suggested, however, a
feeble hope of deliverance; and there is
no hope so fee bic as not to yield some
support to heart bending under
despair He resolved to watch during
the ensuing night, for the signs he had
before observed; and should he again
feel the gentle tremulous motion of the
floor, or the current of air, to seize that
moment for giving audible expression
to his misery Some person must be
near him, and within reach of his
voice at the instant when his food was
supplied; some one, perhaps, suscepti-
bic of pity. Or, if not, to be told even
that his apprehensions were just, and
that-lils fate was to be what he fore
boded, would be prefera bic to sus-
pense which hung upon the possibility
of his worst fears being visionary
The night came; and as the hour APP
preached when Vivenzio imagined he
might expect the signs he stood fixed
and silent as a statue. He feared to
breathe, almost, lest he might lose any
sound which would warn him of their
coming. While thus listening, with
every faculty of mind and body strained
to an agony of attention, it occurred to
him he should be more sensible of the
self along the iron floor. He accord
ingly laid himself softly down, and had
not been long in that position when
yes-he was certain of 1.-THE floor
moved under himl He sprang up. and,
in voice nearly suffocated with emo
ton, called aloud He paused-the
motion ceased-he felt no stream of
air-all was hushed-no voice answered
to his-he burst into tears, and as he
sank to the ground, in renewed
anguish, exclaimed; 80 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 TWO days-and all
would be over! Fresh food-fresh
waterl 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 Sc
near, that in six PAGES he trod the space
between them. Nivenzio shuddered as
he gazed, and as his steps traversed the
narrowed area. But his feelings no
longer vented themselves in frantic
wailings. With folded arms, and
clenched teeth, with eyes that were
bloodshot from watching, and fixed
with n vacant glare upon the ground,
with a hard quick breathing, and
hurried walk, he strode backward and
forward in silent amusing 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. Words
are inscribed there A human language,
traced by a human hand! He rushes
toward them; but his blood freezes as
he reads:
II, 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 perfdious Tolf,
more devil than man, who conducted
me hither one morning, to be witness,
as he said, of its perfection, doomed me
to be the first victim of my own per-
nicious skill; lest as he declared,