Penny Dreadful Multipack Vol. 1 (Illustrated. Annotated. 'Wagner The Wehr-Wolf,' 'Varney The Vampire,' 'The Mysteries of London Vol. 1' + Bonus Features) (Penny Dreadful Multipacks) (22 page)

Sister Alba now approached Flora
and the countess, and said in a low whisper, “The vengeance of the conventual
discipline is terrible on those who sin! That miserable girl completed her
novitiate five months ago; and the night before she was to take the veil she
escaped. This awful crime she committed for the sake of some man she had known
ere she first entered the convent, and for whom she thus endangered her
immortal soul. But her justly incensed relations yesterday discovered her
retreat; and she was restored to this house of penitence and peace. Alas! the
effects of her frailty were but too apparent; and that benighted girl would
become a mother—
had she long enough
to live
!”

These last words were uttered
with terrible significancy; and the nun turned aside, leaving Flora and the
countess each a prey to the most unspeakable horror.

In the meantime the helpless
victim of ecclesiastical vengeance—the poor erring creature, who had dared and
sacrificed everything for the love of her seducer—had risen from her suppliant
posture, and flown wildly—madly round to the elder nuns in succession,
imploring mercy, and rending the very roof of the subterrane with piercing
screams. But those to whom she appealed turned a deaf ear; for a convent is a
tomb in which all human sympathies are immured—a vortex wherein all the best
feelings that concrete in the mortal heart are cruelly engulfed!

And while this wretched girl—for
she was scarcely yet a woman, although were life spared her, on the way to maternity—was
thus fruitlessly imploring the mercy of hearts that were stern and remorseless,
the hymn continued, and the bell tolled at short intervals.

Suddenly at a particular verse in
the funeral chant, the three nuns who usually did the bidding of the lady
abbess, glided noiselessly—but surely, like black serpents—toward the
victim—seized her in their powerful grasp—and bore her to the cell in which she
was to be immured.

The choir of nuns raised their
voices, and the bell now clanged quickly with its almost deafening note—and
those human and metallic sounds combined to deaden the screams that burst from
the miserable girl, on whom the huge door at length closed with fearful din.

The massive bolts were drawn—the
key turned harshly in the
 
 lock
and still the shrieks came from within the sepulcher where a human being was
 
entombed
alive
!

So sickening a sensation came
over Flora and the countess, when the last act of the awful tragedy was thus
concluded, that they reeled back to their cell with brains so confused, and
such horrible visions floating before their eyes, that their very senses
appeared to be abandoning them.

When they were enabled to collect
their scattered ideas, and the incidents of the last half-hour assumed a
definite shape in their memories, the sound of hymn and bell had ceased—the
chamber of penitence was deserted—the silence of death reigned throughout the
subterrane—nor did even the faintest shriek or scream emanate from the cell in
which the victim was entombed.

THE BANDITTI

The
 
night of which we are speaking
was destined to be one pregnant with alarms for the Countess of Arestino and
Signora Francatelli.

Scarcely had they recovered from
the effects of the appalling tragedy which had just been enacted, when their
attention was drawn to a strange noise on one side of the cell.

They listened, and the noise
continued—resembling an attempt to remove the massive masonry at that part of
the stone chamber.

“Merciful heavens!” said Flora,
in a subdued whisper; “what new terror can now be in store for us!”

But scarcely were these words
uttered, when a considerable portion of the masonry fell in with a loud crash;
and had not the countess and Flora already withdrawn to the vicinity of the
door, when the mysterious sound first began, they would either have been killed
or seriously hurt by the falling of the huge stones.

A faint scream burst from Flora’s
lips, and she would have rushed from the cell, had not an ejaculation of joy
escaped the countess.

For at the aperture formed by the
falling in of the masonry, and by the glare of the light that shone on the
other side, as well as by the dim taper that burnt before the crucifix in the
cell, Giulia had in an instant recognized the countenance of the Marquis of
Orsini.

“Manuel!—dearest Manuel!” she
exclaimed, rushing toward the aperture: “art thou come to save me?”

“Yes, Giulia,” replied the
marquis. “But by what good fortune art thou the very first whom it is my
destiny to encounter? and who is thy companion?”

“A good—a generous-hearted girl, whom
you must save also from this dreadful place,” answered the countess. “And as
for this accidental, but most fortunate encounter, I can tell you no more than
that this is our cell. It is rather for me to ask——”

“We have no time to waste in idle
talk, my lord,” said
 
 Stephano,
who now appeared at the aperture. “Pardon my roughness, noble lady—but every
moment is precious. Is there any danger of an alarm being given?”

“None that I am aware of,”
returned the countess. “The place where we now are must be a hundred yards
below the surface of the earth——”

“No, my lady—that is impossible,”
interrupted Stephano; “a hundred feet at the most—and even that is above the
mark. But stand back, my lady, while we remove some more of this solid
masonry.”

Giulia obeyed the robber-chief,
and turned to embrace Flora with the liveliest manifestations of joy, which the
young maiden sincerely shared—for escape now appeared to be at hand.

The aperture was rapidly enlarged
by those who worked on the other side, and in a few minutes it was spacious
enough to admit the passage of a human form. Then Giulia and Flora quitted
their dismal cell, and entered the innermost chamber of the robbers’ hold, but
from which the treasures described in a previous chapter had all been removed
away.

Giulia embraced the marquis with
grateful affection; but Stephano exclaimed, “Come, my lord! Remember your oath,
and join us in this expedition to the end!”

At that moment the awful tragedy
of the night flashed back to Flora’s memory, from which nothing could have
dispelled it even for an instant, save the thrilling excitement attendant on
the escape from the convent; and in a few hurried words, she told the dreadful
tale.

But what was the astonishment of
all present, when Piero, one of the banditti, exclaimed in a tone of mingled
rage and grief, “’Tis Carlotta! the victim can be none other—the dates you have
mentioned, signora, convince me! Yes—five months ago she fled from that
accursed convent—and yesterday she disappeared. Ah! my poor Carlotta!”

And the rude but handsome brigand
wept.

Flora, forgetting the danger of
re-entering the walls of the terrible institution, exclaimed, “Follow me—it may
not be too late—I will show you the cell——”

And she once more passed through
the aperture, closely followed by Stephano, Piero, Lomellino, and a dozen other
banditti. The Marquis of Orsini stayed behind a few moments, to breathe a
reassuring word to Giulia, whom he left in the treasure chamber (as that
apartment of the robbers’ hold was called), and then hastened after those who
had penetrated into the subterrane of the convent.

The party entered the chamber of
penitence, where the long wax candles were still burning before the altar; and
Flora having hastily given Stephano as much information as she could relative to
the geography of the place, that chieftain placed sentinels around. Flora had
already pointed out the door of the dungeon to which Carlotta had been
consigned; and Piero hastened to call upon his mistress to answer him.

It was a touching spectacle to
behold that lawless and bold, bad man melting into tenderness beneath the
influence of love!

 But no reply came from
within that dungeon; and though the bolts were easily drawn back, yet the lock
was strong, and the key was not there!

By this time the penitents, who
slept in the various cells adjoining the chamber, had become alarmed by the
heavy tread and the voices of men, and had opened their doors. But they were
desired to keep back by the sentinels, whom Stephano had posted around to
maintain order and prevent a premature alarm, but who, nevertheless, gave
assurances of speedy escape to those who might choose to profit by the
opportunity.

Suddenly a door, which Flora had
never noticed before in the chamber of penitence, opened, and two recluses
appeared on the threshold.

“The abbess!” ejaculated Flora,
yielding to a sudden impulse of alarm.

But almost at the same instant
Stephano sprung forward, caught the abbess by the arm, and dragged her into the
chamber; then rushing up a flight of narrow stone steps, with which that door
communicated, and which the other recluse had already turned to ascend, he
brought her forcibly back also. This latter nun was Sister Alba, the presiding
authority of the chamber of penitence.

Her astonishment, as well as that
of the lady abbess, at the spectacle of a number of armed men in the most
private part of the entire establishment, may well be conceived; nor was this
disagreeable surprise unmixed with intense alarm. But they had little time for
reflection.

“The key of that door!” cried
Stephano in a fierce and menacing tone, as he pointed toward Carlotta’s
dungeon.

The abbess mechanically drew
forth the key from beneath her convent-habit, and Piero, rushing forward,
clutched it eagerly. In a few moments it turned in the lock—the next moment the
door stood open.

But what a spectacle met the view
of Piero, Flora, and those who were near enough to glance within! Stretched
upon the stone floor of the narrow cell lay the victim—motionless and still!
Drops of gore hung to her lips; in the agony of her grief she had burst a
blood-vessel—and death must have been almost instantaneous.

Flora staggered back—sick at the
dreadful sight; and she would have fallen to the ground had not the Marquis of
Orsini suddenly sprung forward to sustain her.

“This is no place for you, young
lady,” he said. “Permit me to conduct you back to the companionship of the
Countess of Arestino.”

Flora leant upon his arm, and he
half carried, rather than led her away from the chamber of penitence into the
robbers’ hold. But as they passed through the aperture formed by the removal of
the masonry, a terrible menace met their ears.

“Vengeance!” cried Piero,
furiously; “vengeance on the murderess of Carlotta!”

“Yes—vengeance shalt thou have,
comrade,” returned the deep, sonorous voice of Stephano.

 But scarcely were those
words uttered, when the loud clanging of the bell struck up; and the abbess
exclaimed joyfully, “We are saved! we are saved!”

THE MYSTERY OF THE CHAIR—THE
CATASTROPHE

The
 
reader will recollect that when
Flora Francatelli was released from the chair at the bottom of the pit or well,
Sister Alba had led her along a narrow, dark passage communicating with the
chamber of penitence.

In a small dome-like cavity,
hollowed out of the roof of this passage, hung a large bell; and in a cell
opening from the side of the passage immediately beneath the dome, dwelt an old
nun, who, for some dreadful misdeed committed in her youth, had voluntarily
consigned herself to the convent of the Carmelites, and, having passed through
the ordeal of the chamber of penitence, had accepted the office of sextoness in
that department of the establishment.

It was her duty to keep the
chamber of penitence clean, maintain tapers constantly burning before the
altar, supply also the cells of the penitents themselves with lights, and toll
the bell whenever occasion required. She it was who had visited Flora’s cell
the first night of her arrival at the convent, to renew the taper that burnt
before her crucifix, and to exchange the maiden’s attire for the conventual
garb.

This old nun it was, then, who
suddenly tolled the bell, at the moment when Piero and Stephano were menacing
the abbess and Sister Alba with their vengeance, and when the Marquis of Orsini
was bearing away Flora to the robbers’ hold, that she might have the
companionship of Giulia.

The way in which the old nun rang
the bell was such that the inmates of the convent would perceive it to be an
alarm; and moreover, so sudden was its startling clang, that Stephano and Piero
abandoned their hold upon the abbess and Sister Alba, and retreated a few
paces, uncertain how to act; hence the exclamation of the superior of the
convent, “We are saved! we are saved!”

But little did that stern,
imperious woman know of the desperate characters of those with whom she had now
to deal. Ashamed of their momentary hesitation, Stephano and Piero rushed on
the abbess and Sister Alba, and dragged them, in spite of their deafening
screams, into that fatal cell, where they threw them headlong over the lifeless
corpse of their victim.

Scarcely, however, had they
closed the door on the wretched woman, when the Marquis of Orsini returned;
and, too well divining what had passed, he exclaimed, “In the name of Heaven,
captain!—by all that is holy, Piero! I implore you not to consummate this
dreadful crime!”

“My lord,” said Stephano, “ere we
entered on this expedition to-night, you bound yourself by an oath to obey me
as the leader. I command you then not to interfere with our proceedings; but,
 
 on the contrary, go and
ascertain whence comes the clanging of that infernal bell.”

The marquis turned aside, sick at
heart at the deed of vengeance which was in progress, but unable to remonstrate
further, in consequence of the oath which he had taken. It was, however, a
relief for him to move away from the vicinity of the living tomb, whence
emanated the shrieks of the abbess and the nun; and guided by the sound of the
bell, he rushed, with whirling brain and desperate resolution, into the passage
leading from the chamber of penitence.

In a few moments the clanging of
the bell ceased, for the marquis had discovered the old sextoness in her cell,
and compelled her to desist.

All the events yet recorded in
the preceding and the present chapter had occurred with a rapidity which the
reader can scarcely comprehend, because their complicated nature and variety
have forced us to enter into minute details requiring a considerable time to
peruse. Those events which we are now about to describe also succeeded each
other with marvelous speed, and occupied an incredibly short space of time,
although our narrative must necessarily appear prolix in comparison.

Extraordinary was the excitement
that now prevailed in all the subterranean department of the convent. The
victims of a stern but just vengeance were sending forth appalling screams from
the fatal dungeon; and some of the penitents in their cells, which were still
guarded by the sentinels, were also giving vent to their affright by means of
piercing shrieks, though others remained tranquil in hope of the promised
release.

Stephano had entirely recovered
his presence of mind, and now issued his orders with wondrous rapidity.

Pointing to the door by which the
abbess and Sister Alba had entered the chamber of penitence, he said,
“Lomellino, that is the way to the upper part of the convent—there can be no
doubt of it! Take Piero and half a dozen of the men, and hasten up that
staircase. Secure the front gate of the building, and possess yourself of the
plate and treasure. But no violence, remember—no violence to the nuns.”

Lomellino, Piero, and six of the
banditti hastened to obey these commands, while Stephano remained below to act
as circumstances might require. He went the round of the five cells belonging
to the penitents, and enjoined those who were yielding to their terrors to hold
their peace, as they had nothing to fear, but much to gain—at least, he
observed, if they valued their freedom; and to those who were tranquil he
repeated the assurances of speedy liberation already given by his men.

For thirty years the old woman
had not seen a being of the male sex; and she was terrified by the appearance
of an armed man in that place which she had so long deemed sacred against the
possibility of such an intrusion.

“Fear nothing,” said the marquis,
“no one will harm you. But what will be the effect of that alarm which you have
rung?”

 “Merely to warn those above
that something unusual is taking place below,” answered the old woman.

“And by what means can access be
obtained to this subterrane?” demanded the marquis.

“There is a staircase leading
from the chamber of penitence up into the hall of the convent——”

“Of the existence of that
staircase I am aware,” interrupted the marquis, who had seen the abbess and
Sister Alba enter the chamber of penitence a few minutes previously, as stated
in the preceding chapter; “but are there no means of ingress or egress?”

“Yes; follow me,” said the
sextoness.

Taking up a lamp from the table
in her cell, she led the way to the further end of the passage, threw open a
door, and thrusting forth the light beyond the opening, exclaimed in a tone
denoting a reminiscence the bitterness of which long years had scarcely
mitigated—“That is the road whereby I came hither; and many, many others have
traveled the same downward path!”

The marquis seized the lamp, and
beheld, a few paces from from him, a wicker chair, to which two ropes, hanging
perpendicularly down, were fastened. He raised his eyes, following the
direction of the ropes, but as there was now no other light in the pit than the
feeble, flickering one shed by the lamp which he held, his glances could not
penetrate the dense obscurity that prevailed above.

“What means this chair, with its
two ropes? and for what purpose is this narrow, square compartment, the mouth
of which is shrouded in darkness?” inquired Manuel.

“This is the method of descent to
this region, for all those who come to this convent either as willing
penitents, or who are sent hither against their inclination,” returned the
sextoness. “And though I came a willing penitent, yet never, never while the
breath shall animate this poor, weak form, and reason shall remain, can I
forget the mental agony, the intense anguish, of that fearful descent. Ah! it
is a cruel engine of torture, although it tears not the flesh, nor racks the
limbs, nor dislocates the joints. And even though thirty long years have passed
since I made that dread journey,” she continued, glancing upwards—“thirty years
since I last saw the light of day—and though I have since learned and seen how
much of the horror of that descent is produced by the delusion of mechanical
ingenuity—yet still I shudder, and my blood runs cold within me.”

“To me, old woman,” said the
marquis, “your words are an enigma. But you have excited my curiosity: speak
quickly, and explain yourself, for I may not linger here.”

“Behold this basket,” returned
the nun, without further preface—“these ropes connect it with complicated
machinery in some chamber adjoining the well itself. In that basket those who
are doomed to pass the ordeal of penitence are lowered from an apartment above.
This apartment is really but a short distance overhead: but the art of the
mechanist has so contrived
 
 the
four wooden walls of the well, that when the descent of the basket ceases,
those walls rise slowly upward, and thus descent appears to be continued. Then,
when the affrighted female stretches forth her hands wildly, she encounters the
ascending walls, and she believes that she is still going down—down—down! Oh!
signor, it is most horrible, but a fitting prelude to the terrors of that
place!”

And she pointed back toward the
chamber of penitence. The marquis was about to make some observation in reply
to the strange disclosures of the old sextoness, when suddenly the din of a
tumult, occurring, as it seemed, in that department of the convent far
overhead, reached his ears, commencing with the rushing of many feet—the
ejaculations of hostile bands—and then continuing with the clash of arms, and
the shrieks of affrighted women—until, in a few moments, those ominous sounds
were broken in upon and dominated by the wild, terrific cry of “Fire! fire!”

“Oh! wherefore have I tarried
here so long?” exclaimed the marquis; and he was about to return to the chamber
of penitence, when a sudden blaze of light appeared at the mouth of the pit,
thirty yards above. Looking hastily up, he beheld the flames rolling over the
entrance of that well at the bottom of which he stood; and, in another minute,
the forked fire burst from the sides, forcing for itself a way through the
wooden walls; and the old dry timber and planks yielded to the devouring
element as if they had been steeped in oil.

But while the marquis was still
standing at the bottom looking up the pit, the clash of weapons, the tread of
many steps, and the vociferations of combatants appeared to grow nearer; then
in another moment he became aware that the hostile sounds came down the well,
and proceeded from the room far above, where the fire as well as the war was
raging.

Manuel had again turned around to
hurry back to the chamber of penitence, when a loud cry of despair came
vibrating down, and in another instant the heavy form of a man was precipitated
into the well. The wicker chair fortunately broke his fall, and he rose with a
dreadful imprecation.

“Piero!” cried the marquis.

“Ah! my lord, is it you?” said
the bandit faintly, as he staggered back and fell heavily on the floor. “This
is a bad business—the sbirri were alarmed, and broke in—Lomellino has got away,
but the rest who were with me are slain——”

“And you are wounded, Piero,”
ejaculated the marquis, rushing forward to assist the bandit, from whose breast
he now perceived the blood to be flowing.

“Never mind me, my lord!” said
Piero faintly. “Haste and tell Verrina that—our men fought well—it was not
their fault—nor mine—the nuns must have given—the—alarm——”

His voice had grown fainter as he
spoke: and, while the marquis was endeavoring to raise him, he fell back again,
and expired with the name of Carlotta upon his tongue.

The combat had ceased above, but
the flames had increased in the well to such an extent that the marquis was
compelled to
 
 beat a rapid
retreat toward the chamber of penitence, whither the old sextoness had already
fled. At the entrance of that apartment he met Stephano, who, alarmed by the
clashing of arms and the cries of “fire” that had reached his ears, and which
seemed to come from the direction of the passage, was hurrying thither to learn
the cause. In a few words the marquis informed him of all that had occurred.

“Back to the cavern, my friends!”
cried Stephano, in a loud tone. “If the sbirri discover us there, we will
resist them to the death.”

And followed by the marquis and
two or three of his men, the captain passed through the aperture made from the cell
recently occupied by Flora and the countess, into the treasure-chamber.

But scarcely had those few
individuals effected their retreat in this manner, when a tremendous crash was
heard, cries and shrieks of horror and dismay burst from those who had not as
yet passed through the opening, and then the roof of the chamber of penitence
and all the adjacent cells gave way with a din as of a thousand cannon, burying
beneath their weight the sextoness, the five penitents, the inmates of
Carlotta’s cell, and seven of the banditti.

Those who were in the
treasure-chamber felt the ground shake beneath their feet; the sides—although
hollowed from the solid rock—appeared to vibrate and groan, and the aperture
leading into the subterrane of the convent was closed up by the massive masonry
that had fallen in.

Flora and Giulia threw themselves
into each other’s arms, weeping bitterly; for they saw how dearly their freedom
had been purchased, and they trembled for the result.

But the Marquis of Orsini,
although greatly shocked at the terrible sacrifice of human life which had
occurred, exerted himself to console and reassure the two terrified ladies.