9
be some secret machinery in the walls by which a
person could enter. He inspected them closely.
They appeared to him one solid and compact
mass of iron ; or joined, if joined they were, with
such nice art, that no mark of divison was perceptible.
Again and again he surveyed them—and
the floor—and the roof—and the range of visionary
windows, and he was now almost tempted to consider
them ; he could discover nothing, absolutely
nothing, to relieve his doubts or satisfy his curiosity.
Sometimes he fancied that altogether the dungeon
had a more contracted appearance—that it looked
smaller ; but this he ascribed to fancy, and the impression
naturally produced upon his mind by the
undeniable disappearance of two of the windows.
With intense anxiety, Vivenzio looked forward
to the return of night; and as it approached, he
resolved that no treacherous sleep should again
betray him. Instead of seeking his bed of straw,
he continued to walk up and down his dungeon till
daylight, straining his eyes in every direction
through the darkness, to watch for any appearance
that might explain these mysteries. While thus
engaged, and as nearly as he could judge, (by the
time that afterwards elapsed before the morning
came in,) about two o’ clock, there was a slight
tremulous motion of the floors. He stooped. The
motion lasted nearly a minute ; but it was so extremely
gentle, that he almost doubted whether it
was real, or only imaginary. He listened. Not a
sound could be heard. Presently, however, he felt
a rush of cold air blow upon him ; and dashing towards
the quarter whence it seemed to proceed, he
stumbled over something which he judged to be
the water ewer. The rush of cold air was no
longer perceptible ; and as Vivenzio stretched out
