ched when Vivenzio imagined he
might expect the signs, he stood fixed and silent as a statue. He
feared to breathe, almost, lest he might lose any sound which would
warn him of their coming. While thus listening, with every faculty of
mind and body strained to an agony of attention, it occurred to him he
should be more sensible of the motion, probably, if he stretched
himself along the iron floor. He accordingly laid himself softly down,
and had not been long in that position when--yes--he was certain of
it--the floor moved under him! He sprang up, and in a voice suffocated
nearly with emotion, called aloud. He paused--the motion ceased--he
felt no stream of air--all was hushed--no voice answered to his--he
burst into tears, and as he sank to the ground, in renewed anguish,
exclaimed--"Oh, my God! my God! You alone have power to save me now,
or strengthen me for the trial you permit."

Another morning dawned upon the wretched captive, and the fatal index
of his doom met his eyes. Two windows!--and _two_ days--and all would
be over! Fresh food--fresh water! The mysterious visit had been paid,
though he had implored it in vain. But how awfully was his prayer
answered in what he now saw! The roof of the dungeon was within a foot
of his head. The two ends were so near, that in six paces he trod the
space between them. Vivenzio shuddered as he gazed, and as his steps
traversed the narrowed area. But his feelings no longer vented
themselves in frantic wailings. With folded arms, and clenched teeth,
with eyes that were bloodshot from much watching, and fixed with a
vacant glare upon the ground, with a hard quick breathing, and a
hurried walk, he strode backwards and forwards in silent musing for
several hours. What mind shall conceive, what tongue utter, or what
pen describe the dark and terrible character of his thoughts? Like the
fate that moulded them, they had no similitude in the wide range of
this world's agony for man. Suddenly he stopped, and his eyes were
riveted upon that part of the wall which was over his bed of straw.
Words are inscribed there! A human language, traced by a human hand!
He rushes towards them; but his blood freezes as he reads:--

"I, Ludovico Sforza, tempted by the gold of the Prince of Tolfi, spent
three years in contriving and executing this accursed triumph of my
art. When it was completed, the perfidious Tolfi, more devil than man,
who conducted me hither one morning, to be witness, as he sai