At this moment, from an unseen hand behind, Sophy was struck to the ground. Her scream of pain was frozen on her lips, and she lay prone before me.
"You infernal villain," I cried, and turned.
The moon was shining brightly, and by its light I saw the form of Dr. Peterssen. In his upraised hands he held a heavy stake. I strove to avoid the blow, and received it on my arm. Before I could recover myself the stake was raised again, and again it descended upon me, this time upon my head. The earth swam round. Again I was struck with savage violence, and as I fell the last thing I saw was the moon with a face in it which smiled upon me in the likeness of Dr. Peterssen.
[CHAPTER LVII.]
THE CAVERN IN THE CLIFF.
I opened my eyes in darkness. How long I had remained insensible I did not know, nor did I know where I was. All that I was conscious of at first was a dull pain in my head, but presently I was sensible of other facts. My hands were tied behind me, and my mouth was gagged, so that I could only utter unintelligible moans. To my astonishment my moans were answered by similar sounds at a short distance from me. Pain and suffering are selfish and dominant qualities, and some few moments passed before I thought of my brave Sophy. Then it occurred to me that the moans I heard proceeded from her, and that she was in the same condition as myself. My immediate feeling was one of thankfulness that she was alive. In vain did I strive to free my hands; in vain did I strive to speak intelligible words; in vain did I strive to pierce the black darkness in which we were enveloped. I did not know whether it was day or night, and I shuddered to think of the fate in store for us. Soon I found myself forgetting my own peril entirely, and dwelling only upon poor Sophy's. Bitterly did I reproach myself for bringing her to this pass, for it was I, and I alone, who was responsible for the doom which would surely overtake her. I had no doubt that we were imprisoned here to die, and it was I who had sealed her fate.
My thoughts did not flow steadily and uninterruptedly. Every now and then I relapsed into unconsciousness, and when I revived it seemed to me as if I took up quite naturally the thread of my reflections at the point at which they were broken off. These intervals of insensibility may have been long or short for all I knew. I was starving; I was parched; I would have given the world for a drink of water; but I can say truthfully that if water had been available for only one of us, I would have set my lips hard and given the relief to my companion in misery. I have read of exquisite tortures inflicted upon unfortunate people by barbarous nations--aye, and by some civilized nations as well--but no tortures could have been keener than those I endured. Minutes were like hours, hours like days. It was impossible under such conditions to keep count of time.
There were sounds of movement outside our prison house, if house it was, sounds of scraping feet and falling stones. I strained my ears. Nearer and nearer came these sounds, until they were within a few feet of me in my rear, but I was so securely bound that I could not turn my head. One word was spoken in the form of a question:
"Alive?"
The voice was that of Dr. Peterssen. I had never heard it, but I would have staked my hopes of release upon the issue. Not by the faintest moan did Sophy or I answer this ruthless question. A match was struck, a candle was lighted, and Dr. Peterssen stood between us, holding the candle above his head: With malicious significance he put the candle close to poor Sophy's face, then close to mine, and waved his left hand as though he were introducing us to each other. I gazed at Sophy, who was as little able to move as I was myself, and the tears came into my eyes as I noted the absence of reproach in her observance of me. Indeed, her expression was one of pity, and not for herself.