CHAPTER XXIV.
"Isabel.--Ha! little honor to be much believed, And most pernicious purpose--seeming, seeming. I will proclaim thee, Angelo! look for't; Sign me a present pardon-- Or, with an outstretch'd throat, I'll tell the world Aloud what man thou art.
"Angelo.--Who will believe thee? My unsoil'd name, th' austereness of my life, My vouch against you, and my place i' the State, Will so your accusation overweigh That you will stifle in your own report The smile of Calumny."
SHAKSPEARE.
When Marie recovered consciousness, she found herself in a scene sostrange, so terrific, that it appeared as if she must have been bornemany miles from Segovia, so utterly impossible did it seem, thatsuch awful orgies could be enacted within any short distance of thesovereigns' palace, or their subjects' homes. She stood in the centreof a large vaulted subterranean hall, which, from the numerous archedentrances to divers passages and smaller chambers that opened on everyside, appeared to extend far and wide beneath the very bowels of theearth. It was lighted with torches, but so dimly, that the gloomexaggerated the horrors, which the partial light disclosed.Instruments of torture of any and every kind--the rack, the wheel, thescrew, the cord, and fire--groups of unearthly-looking figures, allclad in the coarse black serge and hempen belt; some with their facesconcealed by hideous masks, and others enveloped in the cowls, throughwhich only the eyes could be distinguished, the figure of the crossupon the breast, and under that emblem, of divine peace, inflictingsuch horrible tortures on their fellow-men that the pen shrinks fromtheir delineation. Nor was it the mere instruments of torture Mariebeheld: she saw them in actual use; she heard the shrieks and groansof the hapless victims, at times mingled with the brutal leers andjests of their fiendish tormentors; she seemed to take in at one view,every species of torture that could be inflicted, every pain thatcould be endured; and yet, comparatively, but a few of the actualsufferers were visible. The shrillest sounds of agony came from thegloomy arches, in which no object could be distinguished.
Whatever suffering meets the sight, it does not so exquisitely affectthe brain as that which reaches it through the ear. At the former theheart may bleed and turn sick; but at the latter the brain seems,for the moment, wrought into frenzy; and, even though personally insafety, it is scarcely possible to restrain the same sounds frombursting forth. How then must those shrill sounds of human agony havefallen on the hapless Marie, recognizing as she did with the rapidityof thought, in the awful scene around her, the main hall of thatmysterious and terrible tribunal, whose existence from her earliestinfancy had been impressed upon her mind, as a double incentive toguard the secret of her faith; that very Inquisition, from which herown grandfather, Julien Heuriquez, had fled, and in which the lessfortunate grandfather of her slaughtered husband, had been torturedand burnt.
For a second she stood mute and motionless, as turned to stone; then,pressing both hands tightly on her temples, she sunk down at the feetof her conductor, and sought in words to beseech his mercy; but herwhite lips gave vent to no sound save a shriek, so wild that itseemed, for the moment, to drown all other sorrows, and startle eventhe human fiends around her. Her conductor himself started back; butquickly recovering--
"Fool!" he muttered, as he rudely raised her. "I have no power to aidthee; come before the Superior--we must all obey--ask him, implorehim, for mercy, not me."
He bore her roughly to a recess, divided off at the upper end of thehall, by a thick black drapery, in which sat the Grand Inquisitorand his two colleagues. One or two familiars were behind them, and asecretary sat near a table covered with black cloth, and on which wereseveral writing implements. All wore masks of black crape, so thickthat not a feature could be discerned with sufficient clearness forrecognition elsewhere; yet, one glance on the stern, motionlessfigure, designated as the Grand Inquisitor, sufficed to bid every dropof blood recede from the prisoner's heart with human terror, at thevery same moment that it endowed the _woman_ with such supernaturalfortitude that her very form seemed to dilate, and her large eye andlovely mouth expressed--if it could be, in such a scene and suchan hour--unutterable scorn. Antipathy, even as love, will piercedisguise; and that one glance, lit up with almost bewildering light,in the prisoner's mind, link after link of what had before beenimpenetrable mystery. Her husband's discovery of her former love forArthur; his murder; the suspicion thrown on Stanley; her own summonsas witness against him; her present danger; all, all were traced toone individual, one still working and most guilty passion, which she,in her gentle purity and holy strength, had scorned. She could notbe deceived--the mystery that surrounded him was solved--antipathyexplained; and Marie's earthly fate lay in Don Luis Garcia's hands!The Grand Inquisitor read in that glance that he was known; and fora brief minute a strange, an incomprehensible sensation, thrilledthrough him. It could scarcely have been fear, when one gesture ofhis hand would destine that frail being to torture, imprisonment, anddeath; and yet never before in his whole life of wickedness, had heexperienced such a feeling as he did at that moment beneath a woman'sholy gaze. Anger at himself for the sensation, momentary as it was,increased the virulence of other passions; but then was not the hourfor their betrayal. In low, deep tones, he commenced the mockery of atrial. That her avowal of her faith would elude torture, by at oncecondemning her to the flames, was disregarded. She was formallyaccused of blasphemy and heresy, and threatened with the severestvengeance of the church which she had reviled; but that this case ofpersonal guilt would be mercifully laid aside for the present, forstill more important considerations. Was her late husband, theydemanded, of the same blaspheming creed as herself? And a list ofnames, comprising some of the highest families of Spain, was read outand laid before her, with the stern command to affix a mark againstall who, like herself, had relapsed into the foul heresy of theirancestors--to do this, or the torture should wring it from her.
But the weakness of humanity had passed; and so calm, so collected, sofirm, was the prisoner's resolute refusal to answer either question,that the familiar to whom she had clung for mercy looked at her withwonder. Again and again she was questioned; instruments of torturewere brought before her--one of the first and slightest used--moreto terrify than actually to torture, for that was not yet the GrandInquisitor's design; and still she was firm, calm, unalterable in herresolution to refuse reply. And then Don Luis spoke of mercy, whichwas to consist of imprisonment in solitude and darkness, to allow timefor reflection on her final answer--a concession, he said, in a tonefar more terrifying to Marie than even the horrors around her,only granted in consideration of her age and sex. None opposed thesentence; and she was conducted to a close and narrow cell, in whichno light could penetrate save through a narrow chink in the roof.
How many days and nights thus passed the hapless prisoner could nothave told, for there was nothing to mark the hours. Her food wasdelivered to her by means of a turn-screw in the wall, so that noteven the sight of a fellow-creature could disturb her solitude, orgive her the faintest hope of exciting human pity. Her sole hope, hersole refuge was in prayer; and, oh! how blessed was the calm, theconfidence it gave.
So scanty was her allowance of food, that more than once the thought,crossed her, whether or not, death by famine would be her allotteddoom; and human nature shuddered, but the spirit did not quail! Hourafter hour passed, she knew not whether it was night or day, when thegloom of her dungeon was suddenly illumined; she knew not at firsthow or whence, so noiseless was the entrance of the intruder, butgradually she traced the light to a small lamp held in the hand ofa shrouded individual, whom she recognized at once. There was onefearful thrill of mortal dread, one voiceless cry for strength fromHeaven, and Marie Morales stood before Don Luis erect and calm, andfirm as in her hour of pride.
Garcia now attempted no concealment. His mask had been cast aside, andhis features gleamed without any effort at hypocritical restraint, inall the unholy passions of his soul. We will not pollute our pageswith transcribing the fearful words of passions
contending in theirnature, yet united in their object, with which the pure ear of hisprisoner was first assailed--still lingering desire, yet hate, wrath,fury, that she should dare still oppose, and scorn, and loathe him;rage with himself, that, strive as he might, even he was baffled bythe angel purity around her; longing to wreak upon her every torturethat his hellish office gave him unchecked power to inflict, yetfearing that, if he did so, death would release her ere his object wasattained; all strove and raged within him, making his bosom a veryhell, from which there was no retracting, yet whose very flamesincited deeper fury towards the being whom he believed their cause.
"And solitude, darkness, privation--have they so little availed thatthou wilt tempt far fiercer sufferings?" he at length demanded,struggling to veil his fury in a quiet, concentrated tone. "Thou hastbut neared the threshold of the tortures which one look, one gestureof my hand, can gather around thee; tortures which the strongestsinew, the firmest mind, have been unable to sustain--how will thatweakened frame endure?"
"It can but die," replied the prisoner, "as nobler and better oneshave done before me!"
"Die!" repeated Garcia, and he laughed mockingly. "Thinkest thou weknow our trade so little that such release can baffle us? I tell thee,pain of itself has never yet had power to kill; and we have learnedthe measure of endurance in the human form so well, that we have neveryet been checked by death, ere our ends were gained. And so will it bewith thee, boldly as now thou speakest. Thou hast but tasted pain!"
"Better the sharpest torture than thy hated presence," calmly rejoinedMarie. "My soul thou canst not touch."
"Soul! Has a Jewess a soul? Nay, by my faith, thou talkest bravely! Anthou hast, thou hadst best be mine, and so share my salvation; there'snone for such as thee."
"Man!" burst indignantly from the prisoner. "Share thy salvation!Great God of Israel! that men like these have power to persecute thychildren for their faith, and do it in thy name! And speak ofmercy! Thou hast but given me another incentive for endurance," shecontinued, more calmly addressing her tormentor. "If salvation bedenied to us, and granted thee, I would refuse it with my dyingbreath; such faith is not of God!"
"I came not hither to enter on such idle quibbles," was the rejoinder."It matters not to me what thou art after death, but before it minethou shalt be. What hinders me, at this very moment, from working mywill upon thee? Who will hear thy cry? or, hearing, will approachthee? These walls have heard too many sounds of human agony to bearthy voice to those who could have mercy. Tempt me not by thy scorn toofar. What holds me from thee now?"
"What holds thee from me? GOD!" replied the prisoner, in a tone ofsuch, thrilling, such supernatural energy, that Garcia actuallystarted as if some other voice than hers had spoken, and she sawhim glance fearfully round. "Thou darest not touch me! Ay,villain--blackest and basest as thou art--thou darest not do it. TheGod thine acts, yet more than thy words blaspheme, withholds thee--andthou knowest it!"
"I defy him!" were the awful words that answered her; and Don Luissprang forwards.
"Back!" exclaimed the heroic girl. "Advance one step nearer, and thyvengeance, even as thy passion, will alike be foiled--and may Godforgive the deed I do."
She shook down the beautiful tresses of her long luxuriant hair, and,parting them with both hands around her delicate throat, stood calmlywaiting in Don Luis's movements the signal for her own destruction.
"Fool!" he muttered, as involuntarily he fell back, awed--in spite ofhis every effort to the contrary--at a firmness as unexpected as itwas unwavering. "Fool! Thou knowest not the power it is thy idlepleasure to defy; thou wilt learn it all too soon, and then in vainregret thy scorn of my proffer now. Thou hast added tenfold to my wildyearning for revenge on thy former scorn--tenfold! ay, twice tenfold,to thy own tortures. Yet, once more, I bid thee pause and choose.Fools there are, who dare all personal physical torment, and yetshrink and quail before the thought of death for a beloved one.Idiots, who for others, sacrifice themselves; perchance thou wilt beone of them. Listen, and tremble; or, sacrifice, and save! When inthy haughty pride, and zenith of thy power, thou didst scorn me, andbidding me, with galling contempt, go from thy presence as if I were aloathsome reptile, unworthy even of thy tread, I bade thee beware, andto myself swore vengeance. And knowest thou how that was accomplished?Who led thy doting husband where he might hear thine own lips proclaimthy falsity? Who poisoned the chalice of life, which had been sosweet, ere it was dashed from his lips by death? Who commanded themurderer's blow, and the weapon with which it was accomplished? Wholaid the charge of his murder on the foreign minion, and brought theein evidence against him? Who but I--even I! And if I have done allthis, thinkest thou to elude my further vengeance? I tell thee, ifthou refuse the grace I proffer, Arthur Stanley dies; accept it, andhe lives!"
"And not at such a price would Arthur Stanley wish, to live," repliedMarie calmly. "He would spurn existence purchased thus."
"Ay, perchance, if he knew it; but be it as thou wilt, he shall knowthou couldst have saved him and refused."
"And thinkest thou he will believe thee? As little as I believed himmy husband's murderer. How little knowest thou the trust of love! Hewill not die," she continued emphatically; "his innocence shall savehim--thy crime be known."
"Ay!" replied Garcia, with a sneering laugh. "Give thyself wings as abird, and still stone walls will encircle thee; dwindle into thin air,and gain the outer world, and tell thy tale, and charge Don Luis Garciawith the deed, and who will believe thee? Thinkest thou I would haveboasted of my triumphant vengeance to aught who could betray me? Why myvery tool, the willing minister of my vengeance--who slew Morales merelybecause I bade him--might not live, lest he should be tempted to betrayme; I slew him with my own hand. What sayest thou now--shall Stanleylive, if I say Let him die?"
There was no reply, but he looked in vain for any diminution in theundaunted resolution which still sustained her.
"I go," he continued, after a pause. "Yet, once more, I charge theechoose; accept the terms I proffer--be mine--and thou art saved fromall further torture thyself, and Stanley lives. Refuse, and theEnglish minion dies; and when thou and I next meet, it will be wheretorture and executioners wait but my nod to inflict such sufferingthat thou wilt die a thousand deaths in every pang. And,Jewess--unbeliever as thou art--who will dare believe it more thanpublic justice, or accuse me of other than the zeal, which the serviceof Christ demands? Choose, and quickly--wilt thou accept my proffers,and be mine? Thou must, at last. What avails this idle folly oftempting torture first?"
"Thou mayest kill my body, but thou canst not pollute my soul," wasthe instant reply, and its tones were unchanged. "And as for Stanley,his life or death is not in thine hands; but if it were, I couldnot--nay, thus I _would_ not--save him. I reject thy proffers, as Iscorn thyself. Now leave me--I have chosen!"
Don Luis did not reply, but Marie beheld his cheek grow livid, and thefoam actually gather on his lip; but the calm and holy gaze she hadfixed upon him, as he spoke, quailed not, nor changed. The invisibledoor of her cell closed with a deep, sullen sound, as if her tormentorhad thus, in some measure, given vent to the unutterable fury shakinghis soul to its centre; and Marie was alone. She stood for many, manyminutes, in the fearful dread of his return; and then she raised herhand to her brow, and her lip blanched and quivered, and, with a long,gasping breath, she sunk down upon the cold floor--all the heroinelost in an agonized burst of tears.
The Vale of Cedars; Or, The Martyr Page 25