recovered myself when I stood out
again in the free air with the blue dome of heaven high above me. And
now I was shut in the same vault--a prisoner--with what hope of escape?
I reflected. The entrance to the vault, I remembered, was barred by a
heavy door of closely twisted iron--from thence a flight of steep steps
led downward--downward to where in all probability I now was. Suppose I
could in the dense darkness feel my way to those steps and climb up to
that door--of what avail? It was locked--nay, barred--and as it was
situated in a remote part of the burial-ground, there was no likelihood
of even the keeper of the cemetery passing by it for days--perhaps not
for weeks. Then must I starve? Or die of thirst? Tortured by these
imaginings, I rose up from the pavement and stood erect. My feet were
bare, and the cold stone on which I stood chilled me to the marrow. It
was fortunate for me, I thought, that they had buried me as a cholera
corpse--they had left me half-clothed for fear of infection. That is, I
had my flannel shirt on and my usual walking trousers. Something there
was, too, round my neck; I felt it, and as I did so a flood of sweet
and sorrowful memories rushed over me. It was a slight gold chain, and
on it hung a locket containing the portraits of my wife and child. I
drew it out in the darkness; I covered it with passionate kisses and
tears--the first I had shed since my death--like trance-tears scalding
and bitter welled into my eyes. Life was worth living while Nina's
smile lightened the world! I resolved to fight for existence, no matter
what dire horrors should be yet in store for me. Nina--my love--my
beautiful one! Her face gleamed out upon me in the pestilent gloom of
the charnel-house; her eyes beckoned me--her young faithful eyes that
were now, I felt sure, drowned in weeping for my supposed death. I
seemed to see my tender-hearted darling sobbing alone in the empty
silence of the room that had witnessed a thousand embraces between
herself and me; her lovely hair disheveled; her sweet face pale and
haggard with the bitterness of grief! Baby Stella, too, no doubt she
would wonder, poor innocent! why I did not come to swing her as usual
under the orange boughs. And Guido--brave and true friend! I thought of
him with tenderness. I felt I knew how deep and lasting would be his
honest regret for my loss. Oh, I would leave no means of escape
untried; I would find some way out of this grim vault! How overj