The Bronze Statue, or, The Virgin's Kiss — page 59: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE BRONZE STATUE. sy | endeavored to hurl down the massive wall itself, Thus was he a prisoner in a cage about four feet square —having two of its sides of solid masuury aud the other two of stout iron bars. Once more did Sir Ernest de Colmar fuld his arms, Jean against tne wall, and give way to his refléctions;—and in the train of the thoughts that passed through lis mind, the mysteries of Altendorf Castlie—Satanais and Gloria—the Carthu- sian monk—the Princess Elizabetha—and many associations respecting his own nutive land, far-off Austria—these were the prominent images and topics! liours passed away—and by degrees the idea stole into Sir Ernest de Colmar’s mind that he was to be lett to die the hideous death of starvation in that sepul- chre of masonry and iron bars! Could it be possible ?—death through famine—death through bunger and thirst ? Oh! no—no: fiends alone could inflict upon a human creature such an appalling doom! Besides, such a death could not be in any way associated with the Bronze Statue: and had not the Carthusian de- clared that he should become a victim thereto? Yet, was it not strange that no one came to him ?——was it not darkly sus- picions that Father Cyprian kept so long away? Hours had passed: it must now be night time—and still not a voice nor 4 foot-tep broke upon the silence, nor the gleain of a lamp upon the profound gloom of the subterranean! But, after all, what interest could the Cartbusian have in taking the life of Sir Ernest de Colmar? Scarcely had our hero asked himself this question,—a question which now suddenly sprang up in his mind for the fisst time during the long weary hours that he had passed in his cage, when certain sounds, faint but unmistakable, struck upon his ear. He held his breath—he stood motionless, to listen. Yes: it was no delusion—no’ freak of the imagination; for the rustling of gar- ments came through the intense darkoess —as if human beings were creeping along with the treacherous stealthiness of snakes ! Sir Ernest de Colmar Juid his hand upon his sword and half drew it fron its sheath. But at the same instant other and less equivo al sounds absorbed those which had at first excited his attention; and the rat- tling of chains and the noise of revolving wh els made him aware that the iron grat- ings were being drawn up. Should he endeavor to cut his way through the persons present, whoever they might be? Assuredly this was a plan on which the gallant de Colmar was not likely to reflect twice; and forth from its scab- bard flew his trusty sword. But, quick as thought, he was seized upon froin every side; strong arms were lai! upon him in the midst of the profound darkness ;— the very bars which bad been drawi up appeared to have changed into iron hands to clutch him in a vice-like grasp. One—two—three—four—five—six--hea ven only knows how many there were thus to secure the brave Koight and render him powerless. His sword was wrenched from his grasn—his hands were fastened toge- ther with a cord—he was muffled in a priest’s gown—the cow] was buttoned over his face, and ne was then hurried along the passage in the midst of his unseen, un- known, silent oppressors. Presently the party paused for a few moments—a door moaned upon its hinges —the hurried pace was ‘continued---the massive portal clanged violently---and the echoes reverberated with loud, rapid, and metallic sound far, far along another sub- terranean. For that the route was continued through such a place those echoes plainly proved to the Knight’s comprehension— while his own boots with the clinking golden spurs and the footsteps of the men who had him in their power sounded upon the stone-paved floor. On they went---in silence and in dark- ness! Had Sir Ernest de Colmar been a man possessing a weak mind accessible to the inflaence of superstition, he might have fancied that he was in the group of fiends who were speeding him on through a sable atmosphere and a dread subterranean path to the kingdom of Satan! Suddenly a light glanced for a single instant across the openiug of the cowl where it buttoned—appearing and disap- pearing with equal suddenness, as a soli- tary lamp in the middle of a long tunnel seems to the eyes of the railway-traveller. Another door groaned on its hinges—the party passed on—clang went the portal as it closed again—and still was de Colmar hurried on through a continuation of that subterranean which appeared interminable, Ten minutes at least, as well as the Knight could reckon, had elapsed since the moment when he was released from his cage—and at the rate which had been pursued, ths strange underground journey had already extended to nearly the dis- tance of a mile. Scarcely had Sir Ernest de Colmar made this computation, when the souvds of nu- merous footsteps, approaching from the opposite direction, fell upon lis ears. comicbooks.com - . 5 ~ ae a ra = > “9 ‘ : Fs ~—_ e . A ad wiinea St" ; > a ff SS “awe 2 = ro Satake o£ -3 - ~~ - = — - , = ' a ~ . e . ‘ ‘ » A ~ Jip ~ oo - ae , > Be ms -~ -— APEUHTs + a ‘T. ee Ne aes wi ? A ry wif i 4 ‘et M a? : : - ~ _