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like one transfixed, with dilated eyes, expanded
nostrils, and quivering lips, gazing at this fatal
inscription. It was as if a voice from the sepulchre
had sounded in his ears, “Prepare!” Hope forsook
him. There was his sentence, recorded in
these dismal words. The future stood unveiled
before him, ghastly and appalling. His brain
already feels the descending horror,—his bones
seemed to crack and crumble in the mighty grasp
of the iron walls! Unknowing what it is he does,
he fumbles in his garment for some weapon of self-destruction.
He clenches his throat in his convulsive
gripe, as though he would strangle himself at
once. He stares upon the walls, and his warring
spirit demands, “will they not anticipate their
office if I dash my head against them?” An
hysterical laugh chokes him as he exclaims, “why
should I ? He was but a man who died first in
their fierce embrace ; and I should be less than man
not to do as much ?”
The evening sun was descending, and Vivenzio
beheld its golden beams streaming through one of
the windows. What a thrill of joy shot through
his soul at the sight! It was a precious link, that
united him, for the moment, with the world beyond.
There was ecstacy in the thought. As he gazed,
long and earnestly, it seemed as if the windows
had lowered sufficiently for him to reach them.
With one bound he was beneath them—with one
wild spring he clung to the bars. Whether it was
so contrived, purposely to madden with delight the
wretch who looked, he knew not; but at the extremity
of a long vista, cut through the solid rocks
the ocean, the sky, the setting sun, olive groves,
shady walks, and in the farthest distance, delicious
glimpses of magnificent Sicily, burst upon his