a of Arestino, its symmetry convulsing in matchless
tortures, the bosom palpitating awfully with the pangs of that earthly
hell, and the exquisitely-modeled limbs enduring all the hideous pains
of dislocation, as if the fibers that held them in their sockets were
drawn out to a tension at which they must inevitably snap in halves!

But who gazes on that awful spectacle? whose ears drink in those
agonizing screams, as if they made a delicious melody? With folded arms,
compressed lips, and remorseless, though ashy pale countenance, the old
Lord of Arestino stands near the rack; and if his eyes can for a moment
quit that feast which they devour so greedily, it is but to glance with
demoniac triumph toward Manuel d'Orsini, whom an atrocious refinement of
cruelty, suggested by the vengeful count himself, has made a spectator
of that appalling scene! And terrible are the emotions which rend the
heart of the young marquis! But he is powerless--he cannot stretch forth
a hand to save his mistress from the hellish torments which she is
enduring, nor can he even whisper a syllable to inspire her with courage
to support them. For he is bound tightly--the familiars, too, have him
in their iron grasp, and he is gagged! Nevertheless he can see, and he
can hear; he can behold the rending tortures of the rack--and he is
compelled to listen to the piercing screams which the victim sends
forth. If he close his eyes upon the horrible spectacle, imagination
instantly makes it more horrible even still; and, moreover, in the true
spirit of a chivalrous heart, he seeks by the tenderness of his glances
to impart at least a gleam of solace to the soul of her who has
undergone so much, and is suffering now so much more, through her fatal
love of him! The grand inquisitor, who is an intimate friend of the
Count of Arestino, ministers well and faithfully to the infernal
vengeance of that old Italian noble: for the remorseless judge urges on
the torturers to apply the powers of the rack to the fullest extent; and
while the creaking sound of wheels mingles with the cracking noise of
dislocating limbs, the Count of Arestino exclaims, "I was once humane
and benevolent, Giulia, but thy conduct has made me a fiend!"

"A fiend!" shrieked the tormented woman: "Oh! yes--yes--thou art a
fiend--a very fiend--I have wronged thee--but this vengeance is
horrible--mercy--mercy!--oh! for one drop of water--mercy--mercy!"

The rack gave the last shock of which its