THE
IRON SHROUD.
The castle of the Prince of Tolfi was built on the
summit of the towering and precipitious rock of
Scylla, and commanded a magnificent view of Sicily
in all its grandeur. Here during the wars of the
middle ages, when the fertile plains of Italy were
devastated by hostile factions, those prisoners were
confined, for whose ransom a costly price was demanded.
Here, too, in a dungeon, excavated deep
in the solid rock, the miserable victim was immured,
whom revenge pursued,—the dark, fierce, and
unpitying revenge of an Italian heart.
VIVENZIO—the noble, and the generous, the fearless
in battle, and the pride of Naples in her sunny
hours of peace—the young, the brave, the proud,
Vivenzio fell beneath this subtile and remorseless
spirit. He was the prisoner of Tolfi, and he
languished in that rock-encircled dungeon, which
stood alone, and whose portals never opened twice
upon a living captive.
It had the resemblance of a vast cage, for the
roof, and floor, and sides, were of iron, solidly
wrought, and spaciously constructed. High above
there ran a range of seven grated windows, guarded
with massy bars of the same metal, which admitted
light and air. Save these, and the tall