"Hic non pax," the hollow and heartrending tones of the ancient monk who sat at the right of the table were heard to answer.
On glancing at the bared bosom of this hapless being also the same sight was exhibited—the heart surrounded by a devouring flame, but still remaining fresh and unconsumed under its operation. Once more the monk turned away and addressed the aged man in the centre.
"Pax vobis, in nomine Domini," he proceeded.
At these words the being to whom they were addressed raised his head, put forward his hand, and closing the book with a loud clap, said—
"Speak on. It is yours to ask, and mine to answer."
The monk felt reassured, and his courage rose with the occasion.
"Who are ye?" he inquired; "who may ye be?"
"We know not!" was the answer, "alas! we know not!"
"We know not, we know not!" echoed in melancholy tones the denizens of the vault.
"What do ye here?" pursued the querist.