ied away,
in the manner already described. And it was now, also, on that Sabbath
evening that Wagner was pacing his dungeon--pondering on the probable
result of his trial, and yet never ceasing to think of Nisida. His
memory re-traveled all the windings, and wanderings, and ways which his
feet had trodden during a long, long life, and paused to dwell upon that
far back hour when he loved the maiden who became the wife of his first
period of youth--for he was now in a second period of youth; and he felt
that he did not love her so devotedly--so tenderly--so passionately as
he loved Nisida now. Suddenly, as he paced his dungeon and pondered on
the past as well as on the present, the lamp flickered; and, before he
could replenish it with oil, the wick died in its socket. He had the
means of procuring another light; but he cared not to avail himself
thereof, and he was about to lay aside his vesture, preparatory to
seeking his humble pallet, when he was struck by the appearance of a dim
and misty luster which seemed to emanate from the wall facing the door.
He was not alarmed; he had seen and passed through too much in this
world to be readily terrified:--but he stood gazing, with intense
curiosity and profound astonishment, upon that phenomenon for which his
imagination suggested no natural cause.

Gradually the luster became more powerful; but in the midst of it there
appeared a dark cloud, which by degrees assumed the appearance of a
human form; and in a few minutes Wagner beheld a tall, strange-looking
figure standing before him.

But assuredly that was no mortal being; for, apart from the mysterious
mode in which he had introduced himself into the dungeon, there was on
his countenance so withering--bitter--scornful--sardonic a smile, that
never did human face wear so sinister an expression. And yet this being
wore a human shape, and was attired in the habiliments of that age;--the
long doublet, the tight hose, the trunk breeches, the short cloak, and
the laced collar: but his slouched hat, instead of having a large and
gracefully waving plume, was decorated with but a single feather.

Fernand stood with fascinated gaze fixed upon the being whose eyes
seemed to glare with subdued lightnings, like those of the basilisk.
There was something awful in that form--something wildly and menacingly
sinister in the sardonic smile that curled his lips as if with ineffable
contempt, and with the consciousness of his own power!