steps are too rough for your little
feet--dear, dainty, white little feet! I will carry you, you armful of
sweetness!--yes, carry you safely down into the fairy grotto where the
jewels are--SUCH jewels, and all for you--my love, my wife!"

And I raised her from the ground as though she were a young, frail
child. Whether she tried to resist me or not I cannot now remember. I
bore her down the moldering stairway, setting my foot on each crooked
step with the firmness of one long familiar with the place. But my
brain reeled--rings of red fire circled in the darkness before my eyes;
every artery in my body seemed strained to bursting; the pent-up agony
and fury of my soul were such that I thought I should go mad or drop
down dead ere I gained the end of my long desire. As I descended I felt
her clinging to me; her hands were cold and clammy on my neck, as
though she were chilled to the blood with terror. At last I reached the
lowest step--I touched the floor of the vault. I set my precious burden
down. Releasing my clasp of her, I remained for a moment inactive,
breathing heavily. She caught my arm--she spoke in a hoarse whisper.

"What place is this? Where is the light you spoke of?"

I made no answer. I moved from her side, and taking matches from my
pocket, I lighted up six large candles which I had fixed in various
corners of the vault the night previously. Dazzled by the glare after
the intense darkness, she did not at once perceive the nature of the
place in which she stood. I watched her, myself still wrapped in the
heavy cloak and hat that so effectually disguised my features. What a
sight she was in that abode of corruption! Lovely, delicate, and full
of life, with the shine of her diamonds gleaming from under the folds
of rich fur that shrouded her, and the dark hood falling back as though
to display the sparkling wonder of her gold hair.

Suddenly, and with a violent shock, she realized the gloom of her
surroundings--the yellow flare of the waxen torches showed her the
stone niches, the tattered palls, the decaying trophies of armor, the
drear shapes of worm-eaten coffins, and with a shriek of horror she
rushed to me where I stood, as immovable as a statue clad in coat of
mail, and throwing her arms about me clung to me in a frenzy of fear.

"Take me away, take me away!" she moaned, hiding her face against my
breast. "'Tis a vault--oh, Santissima Madonna!--a place for the dead!
Quick--quick! take me out to t