een a robbery.

"This is wonderful!" observed the good clavier as he noted the last
circumstance; "the dross which leads so many souls to damnation has been
neglected while Christian blood has been shed! This seems an act of
vengeance rather than of cupidity. Let us now examine if any proofs are to
be found of the scene of this tragedy."

The search was unsuccessful. The whole of the surrounding region being
composed of ferruginous rocks and their _debris_, it would not, indeed,
have been an easy matter to trace the march of an army by their footsteps.
The stain of blood, however, was nowhere discoverable, except on the spot
where the body had been found. The house itself furnished no particular
evidence of the bloody scene of which it had been a witness. The bones of
those who had died long before were lying on the stones, it is true,
broken and scattered; but, as the curious were wont to stop, and sometimes
to enter among and handle these remains of mortality, there was nothing
new or peculiar in their present condition.

The interior of the dead-house was obscure, and suited, in this particular
at least, to its solemn office. While making the latter part of their
examination, the monk and the two nobles, who began to feel a lively
interest in the late event, stood before the window, gazing in at the
gloomy but instructive scene. One body was so placed as to receive a few
of the direct rays of the morning light, and it was consequently much more
conspicuous than the rest, though even this was a dark and withered mummy
that presented scarcely a vestige; of the being it had been. Like all the
others whose parts still clung together, it had been placed against the
wall, in the attitude of one that is seated, with the head fallen forward.
The latter circumstance had brought the blackened and shrivelled face into
the line of light. It had the ghastly grin of death, the features being
distorted by the process of evaporation, and was altogether a revolting
but salutary monitor of the common lot.

"'Tis the body of the poor vine-dresser;" remarked the monk, more
accustomed to the spectacle than his companions, who had shrunk from the
sight; "he unwisely slept on yonder naked rock, and it proved to him the
sleep of death. There have been many masses for his soul, but what is left
of his material remains still lie unclaimed. But--how is this! Pierre,
thou hast lately passed this place; what was the number of the bodies, at
t