From The Castle of Ollada (1795) by Francis Lathom
From Volume I:
CHAPTER I
My heart forebodes some evil.
HOME.
THE sun was just beginning to paint the horizon, when father Anselm (who, according to his daily custom) was sallying out into the woods, near the monastery of Maqueda, heard himself called on, in rather a loud whisper, and on turning round, perceived Hugo, a tenant of the baron of Ollada.
"Oh, I beseech you, father," exclaimed the old man, "come this way with me into the wood: I have a most dreadful tale to relate unto you; come this way, good father, out of the sight of the mansion-house," and thus saying, he turned into the thickest part of the forest, beckoning the surprised father Anselm to follow him, who at length called out, "Stop, stop, old man, we have gone far enough."
"Nay, but come on, I beseech you, good father," said Hugo, slackening his pace; "if my lord the baron, or any one should overhear our talk, I would not, for the world; my neck might pay the penance of my prattling. Oh good father, had you but seen my lord's displeasure, when once I only asked the cause why he had left the Castle of Ollada for this seat, you would know that I had reason for my fears."
"Well, but indeed there is no danger here, so tell thy story; I will watch that no one suddenly break in upon us."
"Beshrew my heart, but I do tremble sorely, father, at the bare thought of what I have seen."
The old man then cast a look round, and continued.-"But I will tell thee speedily, lest we be interrupted. Thou knowest that Friday last my good old mule fell sick and died. Oh! 'twas indeed a loss; he was at once my friend and servant, and loved me as a fellow-creature would have done; nay, by my troth, I think I should not overstep the truth, were I to say he loved me better than men do love each other now-a-days: the times are altered, father-the times are altered."
"Thy fortune, old man," answered father Anselm, "may be changed, as I doubt not but it is; the former baron knew no greater joy than to see those around him blest, and thou wert one, as well as I, who largely shared his generous bounty; but rail not at the times, for, by God's mercy, I trust that there are still good men in plenty to be found, though we may not be blessed in knowing them-but proceed in thy story."
"Well, father, yesterday I hied me to Toledo, to buy another beast, not that I could ever hope it would prove to me what my poor Diego had done: on my return from thence, between-Stay, ay, it was between the hours of nine and ten, I passed the Castle of Ollada; the night was dark and stormy-very dark! I turned my eyes the way the castle stands, though I could scarcely distinguish it: I never come by it but the memory of former days rushes in upon me, and I can't help thinking how happy we should all have been yet, if my good master had not died; ah! father, that word sticks sorely in my throat; dost thou think he died?"
"That he is dead, I have not the smallest doubt," returned the father.
"Ah! father, men may have their thoughts, and St. Jago save us all from the death he died, pray I: and so as I was looking, and looking wistfully at the old turrets, may I never stir my foot from this spot, if I beheld not a glaring light in the very apartment which the baron used to call his study."
"A light! art thou sure of it, Hugo?"
"As sure as that now I am speaking to you, father; and while I gazed upon it, many a time a figure of uncommon size passed and repassed the casement, till, on a sudden, that and the light both sunk into the earth."
"Nay, your imagination carries you too fast."
"No, good father, beshrew me but I do tell you nought but truth; and ever and anon the plumes of him that passed the casement, waved as it were by the violent agitation of his body; oh! the Blessed Virgin defend me from seeing such a sight again!"
"Hast thou mentioned this to any one but me?"
"No, by my troth have I not."
"Then let it not escape thy lips, I charge thee."
"I shall obey thy orders, father; but dost not think it was a ghost, father?"
"A ghost! good Hugo, no, I have no faith in that which never had existence; but leave me, old man; I see young Altador, the baron's nephew, approaching."
"The sweetest youth that ever lived," cried Hugo; "many a time, out of pastime, has he strode my poor Diego." A tear glistened in his eye at the recollection of his mule, he sighed a farewell, and retired among the trees.
"That all is not right," said father Anselm to himself, on Hugo's departure, "is, I fear, too true; the baron has of late turned hasty and suspicious, and seemingly is anxious to conceal some secret, which he each moment fears he is betraying; long have I urged him to confide to me the secrets of his heart, and by confession and repentance, seek forgiveness of his sins; but mockery of our sacred rights, and asseverations of his innocence, are all that I could ever draw from him; what this old man hath just related, tallies exactly with my thoughts, but lie they hid."
The holy man advancing a few steps on the way which Altador was coming, thus saluted him-"Health to young Altador."
"Good day unto you, father," returned the youth, "happily met; long have I sought to gain a private audience of you, and chance has now most fortunately thrown you in my way."
"If there be aught, young man, wherein my counsel can assist thy inexperienced judgment, freely ask it, and I will strain the nerve of my abilities to serve thee."
"Tell me then, good father, is it a sin to gratify excited curiosity?"
"What meanest thou, my child?" returned the holy man, with surprise; "explain thyself."
"Swear then, for I have a tale of most mysterious nature to unfold, swear thou wilt be secret."
"By all the saints I will."
"Enough.-Thou must remember that some six weeks past the baron of Ollada, from a wound which he received in hunting, was by his physician pronounced to be on the point of death."
"I do."
"I was then sitting by his bedside, drowned in tears; he looked at me attentively for some time, then having waved his hand, in signal for the attendants and father Benedict to retire, upon our being left alone he seized my hand, raised himself on his pillow, and thus addressed me.
'Altador, I feel the agonies of death approaching fast; I know thy nature to be kind and merciful, and I conjure thee, by thy future prospects of felicity, by that felicity which I have never known, by all thou holdest most dear, shew thy compassion to the greatest wretch that ever felt the bitter pang of keen despair; ease the last moments of my guilty life by thy forgiveness; pardon, oh! pardon, thou injured youth, the ills that I have heaped upon thee; they are thy blessing and my curse. Oh! quick, say thou forgivest me, ere I sink into the dark abyss, that opens wide its fiery jaws, to drag me down to everlasting torture-oh! save me, save me, or I am lost for ever.' He then sunk down in his bed, overcome by the too great exertion of his languid faculties."
"May Heaven grant him that forgiveness which he asked of thee!" cried father Anselm.
"It was some time," continued Altador, "before I could sufficiently collect myself from the astonishment into which his words had thrown me, to answer him, and it was still longer ere he was sensible that I was speaking to him; I expressed my gratitude to him for the care and attention he had shewn me since my father's death, and told him, that far from having any thing to reproach him with, I considered myself as highly indebted to his kindness and liberality; declaring that if he had, by any way unknown to me, injured me, I could not forgive what I had never resented; and finally entreated him to seek forgiveness, where alone he could effectually obtain it."
"What said he to this?" asked the holy man, with impatience.
"He became more calm," returned Altador, "bathed my hand with the tears that followed each other in quick succession down his cheeks, and at length entreated me not to refuse complying with the last request of a dying man: I promised I would do whatever he desired: he then conjured me, immediately on his decease, to visit the antient building, formerly the Castle of Ollada,-" (father Anselm could scarcely conceal his emotion) "and not to leave it till I had visited every apartment, 'for,' said he, 'thou wilt find--' the pangs occasioned by the wound now increasing, he shrieked aloud, and father Benedict entering the room, I retired to my chamber, ruminating on what had passed."
"For Heaven's sake proceed," cried the father.
"I will-Guess my astonishment when a few hours after information was brought me, that his disorder had taken a favourable turn, and that he again wished to see me: I went to his chamber, he called me to him, and again took my hand, saying, that, thanks to the Blessed Virgin, his danger was now over, and he hoped that time and care would work a perfect cure in him: he then said, that he feared he had talked to me in a strange manner, the evening before, but that his fever had run high, and that whilst under its subjection, he had said many foolish and unmeaning things; and with a smile requested me not to think any more of what had passed, and in particular not to give it utterance, as there were always those who were ready to put some dark construction upon the words even of a madman."
"'Tis strange," said father Anselm, "wondrous strange."
"And since his recovery," returned Altador, "many a time has he discoursed with me on his delirium of that night, and has turned all he said into ridicule, but with so bad a grace, that he but ill conceals some fatal secret, labouring in his breast, which he fears to have divulged."
"I fear," returned the holy man, "some deed of horror has stained those walls, and I am much mistaken or you are intimately concerned in it."
"Sure you cannot think my father was--"
"Form no rash conjectures, I beseech you," interrupted the father; "time will bring all things to light, and we must wait with patience till he undraws the obscuring veil that shuts us from the knowledge of futurity."
"Heaven forbid I should accuse any one unjustly," replied the youth, "but your countenance confirmed me in the conjecture I was drawing; if you have any cause for suspicion, tell me, I conjure you tell me."
"I must confess I have often wondered, that your father should have transferred his title and fortunes to your uncle, in preference to you, his only son."
"He could have conceived no dislike against me," interrupted Altador; "I was too young to have offended him when he died; and though I have forgotten his person, I can perfectly remember his telling me one day, as I stood prattling between his knees, and playing with his sword, that I should wear it when I was baron of Ollada, which he made no doubt I should one day be, since my poor brother Ferdinand was dead; he died whilst an infant, did he not, father?"
"I think he was five years of age," answered father Anselm; "he died whilst at nurse with the wife of one of your father's tenants."
Here a short silence ensued, which was broken by Altador.
"And then, father, how very extraordinary that my uncle should suffer the Castle of Ollada to fall to decay, and reside in this small seat; the distance from his own lands can be no object; the castle you know is not above a league distant."
"Have you ever visited it since your father's death?" said father Anselm.
"Never; I have frequently heard the baron declare it to be in so ruinous a state, that it is dangerous to enter it; I did not then think him to be so deceitful as I have since found him; I now see through the cobweb artifice, and nothing, I am determined, shall prevent my exploring this mystery."
"How can that be done?" asked father Anselm.
"Has not my uncle himself pointed out the way to a discovery?" replied Altador.
"You cannot mean to visit the castle!"
"I am resolved on it."
"Be not too rash, I entreat you; your impetuosity and agitation of spirits will betray you, and perhaps close the way to a discovery for ever."
"Promise to assist me when a favourable opportunity offers, and I swear to be guided entirely by you."
"You may rely on me."
"Shall we visit the castle to-day?" said the eager youth; "as the baron has not yet stirred out, we can be in no fear of meeting him, of which we might at any other time be apprehensive."
"You are too impatient, indeed you are, Altador."
"I am on the rack; doubts and fears distract me."
"We are interrupted; I see the hunters going to the chase; come to my cell at eight this evening; I will think on what you have been saying; farewell."
Altador, with great reluctance, and not without repeating his entreaties to visit the castle that evening, was at length obliged to take the path leading to the baron's seat, whilst the holy father bent his steps towards the monastery.
Carefully had father Anselm avoided mentioning to Altador the circumstance of the light appearing in the window of the castle, lest his youthful imagination should immediately have construed the figure into the image of his deceased father, and he should have rushed precipitately to revenge.
Father Anselm could no way account for the light; in spirits he had no faith; he knew that the country was not infested by banditti, who might have made this castle their abode, as a place where they were likely to live undisturbed; the castle certainly was reported by the peasants to be haunted; but then he considered, that as the minds of the vulgar are always prepared to raise phantoms in a mere breath of air, he could not in the least wonder at their having connected an idea of terror with so gloomy and ruinous a building as the Castle of Ollada, the horrors of which were greatly increased by the thick shade of the surrounding forest. Again he thought, that Hugo's imagination might have created this supposed spectre, and his fears have multiplied it into a thousand shapes; might not the moon have shone upon the casements, and produced this appearance? no, that was impossible; the old man had affirmed that it was a very dark night.
Lost in various conjectures, he found himself arrived at the gates of the monastery, where he was met by father Benedict, who told him that the baron had sent a messenger to request their immediate presence; and after father Anselm had taken a hasty repast, the two holy men set out together for the mansion of the baron of Ollada.
From Volume II:
CHAPTER II
------Of shapes that walk
At dead of night, and clank their chains.
AKENSIDE
ALTADOR on being left by his uncle, determined not to go immediately to the monastery of Cordova, but to proceed to the cottage of old Hugo, his late nurse's husband, and request him to afford him shelter during the day, and at night to watch in the castle, as he now began to suspect that if the castle was infested, the beings who inhabited it were not supernatural; and he resolved to explore the mystery, if possible.
The old man gave him a very warm reception, put his mule into an unthatched hovel, which was dignified by the appellation of stable, laid the only leathern cushion he possessed upon the one-armed elbow chair, set before him a jug of goat's milk, a small batch of bread, and a few bunches of grapes, and pressed him to taste them. Altador was in return obliged to gratify his host's curiosity, in regard to all that had passed at the baron's mansion.
Towards noon, Hugo's daughter, a fine strapping girl of nineteen, who earned her daily sustenance in a neighbouring vineyard, returned home to prepare her father's midday repast; and she this day went about it with additional diligence, seeing that a guest of Altador's deportment was to partake of it; and repeatedly did she remind him of the honour he conferred on her father's cottage, who, on his part, commanded her not to mention to any one who was his guest.
Jaquenetta was a hale florid wench, without the slightest dash of prudery in her composition; she used every winning art she was acquainted with, to inspire Altador with as strong a regard for her, as she had at first sight felt for him; but his thoughts were too much occupied by the transactions of the preceding days, to suffer him to pay any attention to her little arts; and after the repast, Jaquenetta was under the necessity of returning to her labour, without the reward of a single smile for her neat meal from Altador, which her fine black eyes had not ceased to challenge.
"Go thy way, Jaquenetta," cried the old man, as she left the cottage; "thou art now my only hope: mayest thou be wiser and happier than thy poor mother, Heaven rest her soul in peace!-She is the very picture of poor Rosala," continued he, turning to Altador, who immediately inquired if he had any particular reason for the wish he had just expressed.
"She was unguarded in her youth," returned the good man, "and that brought sorrow when she came to the age of reflection. Ah! many a one," continued Hugo, "hath been undone by a flattering tongue and proffered purse."
"Was she untrue to thee?" asked the youth.
"No, by the Virgin!" answered Hugo; "after I married her, she was as true to me as faith and love could bind her; but ere that time she was decoyed into a villain's arms, who left her and her infant destitute upon the world. I always had entertained a kindness for her, and I could not bear to see her starving; so I married her, and treated her babe as if it had been my own; it died, poor infant, about a year after, or it might be fifteen months-nay, by my troth, now I recollect myself, 'twas whilst thou were at nurse with Rosala."
"That is before my remembrance," cried Altador, smiling at Hugo's ingenuousness.
"She loved thee as dearly as her own," replied Hugo. "Heaven, in its mercy, gave her Jaquenetta, to supply the loss of him it took; had it lived, it should never have known the want of a father. Rosala died a penitent; and she is blest, I make no doubt."
"Didst thou ever learn from her who was the seducer of her virtue?" said Altador.
"No, verily," answered the old man; "she had promised she never would betray him, and though he treated her so cruelly, she kept her word."
With various other tales concerning his own family, interspersed with some anecdotes relating to the former baron, all tending to show his regard for his old master, did Hugo, with the unwearied garulity natural to old age, run on, until his daughter again returned from the vineyard; and he now went to assist her in driving home from a neighbouring mountain, a few goats, which made up the greatest part of his wealth; and Jaquenetta, having milked and enclosed them in the fold, prepared their homely supper, consisting of a few boiled lupines, a cheese made of goat's milk, a cup of new wine, and some fresh-gathered grapes. This meal afforded Jaquenetta much greater satisfaction than the midday repast had done; for Altador, having been informed that she bore the exact resemblance of her deceased mother, wished, he knew not why, to make himself acquainted with her countenance: and thus, to her no small gratification, his eyes frequently encountered hers. She was now going to prepare him a pallet of clean straw, when she heard, with the greatest regret, that he was not to pass the night in the cottage; whither he was going, her father considered it as most prudent to let her remain ignorant, and ordered her to retire to rest. When she, at length, after many forced delays, had ascended the ladder which led to her miserable chamber, the old man, in compliance with Altador's wish immediately to depart, took up his lamp, together with the proper implements for striking a light, and having placed them in an old battered lanthorn, they left the cottage.
Jaquenetta, on hearing them shut the door, could not resist forcing her head out of a chink, which served to admit both air and light into her chamber, and calling out-"Good night," to Altador, who cordially returned her wish, and then proceeded onwards with her father.
When they had walked for the space of some minutes in silence-"Then thou wilt go?" exclaimed the old man.
"I have told thee my resolution," returned Altador.
After a short pause-"I dare not go with thee," said Hugo.
"I wish to be alone," replied the youth.
"Pray the Virgin thou mayest be so," cried the old man, with uplifted hands and eyes.
"Why should I fear the anger of either God or man?" exclaimed Altador; "I have not knowingly offended any man; nor does my conscience upbraid me with any sin towards my God."
"That I will readily believe," answered the old man; "but should evil spirits assail thee?"
"Evil spirits have no power over the righteous," interrupted Altador.
"Then Heaven wots thou wilt be safe," cried the old man, in an ecstacy.
Little more passed till they arrived within a short distance of the castle, when Hugo, having lighted the lamp, and commended him to the care of the Saints, hobbled away as fast as his old limbs could carry him.
Altador now proceeded to the castle, and having entered by the western gate, which he marvelled at again finding open, when the others were so strongly locked, cast a look round the hall, and perceiving that every thing remained in the same situation in which he had left it a few days before, ascended to his father's study, where he meant to pass the night; he examined it attentively-nothing seemed to have been moved from its place; he then closed all the doors leading to the small closet, as well as that which opened upon the gallery; and having drawn one of the best-conditioned chairs to a table which stood in the middle of the apartment, and upon which he placed his lamp and drawn sword, seated himself, and taking from his pocket a book which he had brought with him, to divert, if possible, his thoughts from the gloomy scene around him, began reading. His book contained a history of the famous Charlemagne, and the warmth with which he re-fought the battles of that great hero, in a short time took entire possession of his thoughts. At length his lamp growing dim, he was under the necessity of laying down his book to trim the wick. As he was taking it up, his attention was arrested by a clanking of chains, accompanied by a deep groan, seemingly underneath the apartment in which he was sitting-he listened attentively-after a minute's interval it died away-some time now elapsed, and it did not return. He now began to imagine that his senses had deceived him, so casting a glance over each of the doors, he resumed his subject-he had not turned the page ere the same sounds again struck his ear, but they now seemed to proceed from the small closet which terminated the suite of apartments, in the first of which he now was: he again listened; the groans became much plainer than before, and he distinctly heard the clanking of chains: he again laid down his book; the sound approached towards him-the chains rattled vehemently; scarcely had he sprung from his chair, and seized his sword, ere the door, leading to the suite of rooms, flew open, and a spectre, whose arms and legs were fastened with heavy chains, with a naked body covered with wounds, from which the blood still seemed to gush, with clotted hair and eyes dripping with blood, rendered visible by a flame which burnt on the crown of its head, replete with purple gashes, stood before him, and uttered three deep groans. Altador, summoning all the courage he was master of, exclaimed-"What wouldst thou with me?" The figure pointed to the outward door. "Who art thou?" cried Altador. The spectre shook its head, heaved a sigh, and again pointed to the door. "Speak, what art thou?" repeated Altador. The spectre again pointed to the door, making a sign for him to go out, and giving him to understand that it would follow him: upon this, Altador opened the door-the figure advanced to the middle of the apartment, Altador still retreating with his sword pointed towards it: he had now passed the threshold-the spectre again followed him, and pointed to the stairs-Altador turned his eyes towards them, and in an instant the figure vanished, and the door was closed with a loud crash.
Altador, on the spectre's pointing to him to leave the apartment, had fortunately taken up his lamp; and thus, happily for him, amidst his present terrors, he was not left in total darkness, which would, in no small degree, have added to his alarm. On somewhat recovering his courage, which had met with no inconsiderable shock, he resolved, if possible, to open the door with his sword, as he once before had done, and endeavour to find what course the figure had taken. No sooner had he begun this operation, than he heard a loud and dismal groan-he listened a moment, but steeling himself against all fear, he proceeded to make a second cut. A hollow voice now exclaimed-"Forbear!" This somewhat staggered him; but he determined to make one more attempt, and for this purpose set down his lamp, that he might be the better able to effect his design. The same voice now cried-"Fly from hence, and avoid thy destruction." At the same instant, he heard all the doors in the suite of apartments, shut violently one after another, whilst he stood rapt in astonishment: what had not before occurred to him darted across his mind-that the lock, which he had a few evenings before cut out with his sword, had been replaced; this convinced him that some mortals had been in the castle; but whether the inhabitants were so or not, he was at a loss to determine.
Not knowing how to proceed under these alarming circumstances, he determined to go down into the hall, and take a more accurate view of it than he had yet done; he could not help supposing that there necessarily must be some apartments under the four galleries, which formed the angles of the castle. Having descended, he held his lamp close to the walls in many parts, but could perceive nothing except niches and carvings in the wainscot, that seemed to have been designed as ornaments. He now conjectured that there might be passages in what the baron called the kitchen, leading to those apartments-if there were any such, and he accordingly resolved to explore it: having entered and surveyed it, without being able to discover a single mark of any outlet, he was upon the point of re-entering the hall, when the distant clanking of chains again struck his ear; he stopped to listen-he heard the noise distinctly under him for some minutes, in the same manner as he had done in the upper apartment-a clash now followed, as it were of all the chains falling together to the earth-all was now again silent.
During the time that he had been hearkening to this noise, a large old closet in one corner of the kitchen, the doors of which were thrown carelessly together, caught his eye; he opened them, and a putrid stench immediately flew up his nostrils, but he could not imagine whence it proceeded; he applied his lamp to the wainscot, and perceived a rusty ring, seemingly of brass, fixed in the wall; he pulled at it, and by a slight effort, it followed his hand, carrying along with it part of a decayed panel, and presented to his view the carcase of a man in a state of putrefaction. The sight petrified him, his heart's blood thrilled within him, and ready to sink, he leaned against the side of the closet: horrid as the object was, he could not turn his eyes from it-he gazed upon it in speechless astonishment, when a long and deep sigh met his ear; he started and looked about him, but so small a flame did his lamp throw out, that he seemed to stand in almost impenetrable darkness: he now closed the panel as well as he was able; scarcely had he effected it, ere another sigh passed by him; instantly he shut the closet doors, and with big drops of perspiration standing on his face, he left the kitchen, closing the doors cautiously after him.
"Who may not that corpse have been?" was the first thought that entered the distracted brain of the fainting Altador, as he leaned against a broken pillar in the hall. "Who may not that corpse have been?"-but he drove away all reflections tending to it, unable to bear them in his present situation: he wished to leave the castle, but whither could he go?-from his uncle's he had been driven, on a bare suspicion of that, which, had it been so, he should have gloried in avowing. He cursed the unhappy chance that led them both to the same spot-doubly he cursed it, as that interview had made him so fully acquainted with what he had long feared to inquire into; and the mystery in which Matilda had clouded her declaration, had added not a little to aggravate the distress of his mind; he mourned that he could no longer impart his sorrows to the tender Hypolita, and profit by her counsel; he longed, but he knew not how, to see her.
Whether he should return instantly to Hugo's cottage, and fly this alarming scene, was his next consideration; prudence forbade him so to do, by reminding him, that his return before the morning, would, without doubt, fire all the old man's superstitious fears, which had already been powerfully excited, and probably, by means of his daughter's prattling, create an alarm in the neighbourhood, which might discover to the baron, that he had not, in compliance with his orders, immediately proceeded to the monastery. At length, after much deliberation, he resolved to remain where he now was till day began to dawn, and then to go in search of his mule, and, without delay, set out towards Cordova.
Whilst wrapt in similar reflections, his attention was suddenly excited by the creaking of a door upon its hinges, seemingly near to where he stood; in less than a minute's interval, he perceived a panel in the wainscot of the hall drawn up, and a man's legs appearing under it; upon this, he held the skirts of his mantle before his lamp, to prevent his being discovered by the light of it: the person now stepped cautiously out, let the panel drop, and proceeded to the eastern gate; having unlocked it, he went out, and Altador heard the door locked after him. He was now certain that some of the inhabitants of this castle were human beings; and he much doubted whether even the figure he had seen was not some one in disguise, placed there to terrify those who visited the castle by night, but on what account, he could not form the most distant idea.
This conjecture gave him fresh courage, and he again ascended into the northern gallery, resolving to hazard one more attempt towards the discovery he so earnestly desired to make: he found the door still locked; he knocked loudly; no answer was returned. Upon this, he determined once more to apply his sword to the lock; this effort succeeded, and he was again within the haunted apartment: his book was still lying on the table as he had left it. He now proceeded to the other apartments, and lastly arrived in the closet; here was to be his particular search, in order to find by what means the spectre had effected its escape.
The words of his uncle now again recurred to his recollection, and he shuddered at the thought: he examined the closet with the most minute scrutiny; he lifted up the tapestry, and tried every panel beneath it; they were all immoveable: as he stood with his eyes fixed on the floor, which he was now exploring with the greatest minuteness, his attention was drawn to a small shining knob in one of the boards; he touched it with his sword; it gave way; he now pushed at it harder than before-it slid from him-instantly he felt himself slipping through a trap door, which shut with a snap, and left him in total darkness, as the current of air, which met him in his descent, had extinguished his lamp.
