Wagner, the Wehr-Wolf

by George W. M. Reynolds

He accordingly seized a torch and hurried back to the foot of the stone-steps; in the immediate vicinity of which he searched narrowly for some object. At last he discovered the object of his investigation—namely a large bell hanging in a niche, and from which a strong wire ran up through the ground to the surface. This bell Francisco set ringing, and then hurried back to rejoin his deliverers. Scarcely was he again by the side of Demetrius, when he saw that his stratagem had fully succeeded; for the iron door swung heavily round on its hinges—and in another moment the cries of terror which the two robber-sentinels raised on the inner side, were hushed forever by the Turkish scimiters. Down another flight of steps the invaders then precipitated themselves, another door, at the bottom, having been opened in compliance with the same signal which had led to the unfolding of the first—and now the alarm was given by the sentinels guarding the second post—those sentinels flying madly on, having beholden the immolation of their comrades. But Demetrius and Francisco speedily overtook them just as they emerged from another long vaulted and paved cavern-passage, and were about to cross a plank which connected the two sides of a deep chasm in whose depths a rapid stream rushed gurgling on.

Into the turbid waters the two fugitive sentinels were cast: over the bridge poured the invaders, and into another caverned corridor, hollowed out of the solid rock, did they enter, the torch-bearers following immediately behind the Greek and the young count. It was evident that neither the cries of the surprised sentinels nor the tread of the invaders had alarmed the main corps of the banditti; for, on reaching a barrier formed by massive folding doors, and knocking thereat, the portals instantly began to move on their hinges—and in rushed the Ottoman soldiers, headed by their two gallant Christian leaders. The robbers were in the midst of a deep carouse in their magnificent cavern-hall, when their festivity was thus rudely interrupted.

“We are betrayed!” thundered Lomellino, the captain of the horde; “to arms! to arms!”

But the invaders allowed them no time to concentrate themselves in a serried phalanx, and tremendous carnage ensued. Surprised and taken unaware as they were, the banditti fought as if a spell were upon them, paralyzing their energies and warning them that their last hour was come. The terrible scimiters of the Turks hewed them down in all directions; some, who sought to fly, were literally cut to pieces. Lomellino fell beneath the sword of the gallant Count of Riverola; and within twenty minutes after the invaders first set foot in the banqueting hall, not a soul of the formidable horde was left alive!

Demetrius abandoned the plunder of the den to his troops; and when the portable part of the rich booty had been divided amongst them, they returned to their own grove, into which the entrance of the stronghold opened. When the subterrane was thus cleared of the living, and the dead alone remained in that place which had so long been their home, and was now their tomb, Demetrius ordered his forces to disperse and return to their quarters in Florence in the same prudent manner which had characterized their egress thence a few hours before. Francisco and Demetrius, being left alone together in the grove, proceeded by torchlight to close the trap-door, which they found to consist of a thick plate of iron covered with earth, so prepared, by glutinous substances no doubt, that it was hard as rock; and thus, when the trap was shut down, not even a close inspection would lead to a suspicion of its existence, so admirably did it fit into its setting and correspond with the soil all around.

It required, moreover, but a slight exercise of their imaginative powers to enable Demetrius and Francisco to conjecture that every time any of the banditti had come forth from their stronghold they were accustomed to strew a little fresh earth over the entire spot, and thus afford an additional precaution against the chance of detection on the part of any one who might chance to stray in that direction. We may also add that the trap-door was provided with a massive bolt which fastened it inside when closed, and that the handle of the bell-wire, which gave the signal to open the trap, was concealed in a small hollow in the old chestnut-tree. Having thus satisfied his curiosity by means of these discoveries, Demetrius accompanied Francisco to the city; and during their walk thither, he informed the young count that he was an envoy from the Ottoman Grand Vizier to the Florentine Government—that he had become acquainted with Nisida on board the ship which delivered her from her lonely residence on an island in the Mediterranean—and that as she had by some means or other learnt where Francisco was imprisoned, he had undertaken to deliver him. The young count renewed his warmest thanks to the chivalrous Greek for the kind interest he had manifested in his behalf; and they separated at the gate of the Riverola mansion, into which Francisco hurried to embrace his sister; while Demetrius repaired to his own abode.

The meeting between Nisida and her brother Francisco was affecting in the extreme; and for a brief space the softer feelings in the lady’s nature triumphed over those strong, turbulent, and concentrated passions which usually held such indomitable sway over her. For her attachment to him was profound and sincere; and the immense sacrifice she had made in what she conceived to be his welfare and interests had tended to strengthen this almost boundless love.

On his side, the young count was rejoiced to behold his sister, whose strange disappearance and long absence had filled his mind with the worst apprehensions. Yes, he was rejoiced to see her once more beneath the ancestral roof; and, with a fond brother’s pride, he surveyed her splendid countenance, which triumph and happiness now invested with an animation that rendered her surpassingly beautiful!

A few brief and rapidly-given explanations were exchanged between them, by means of the language of the fingers,—Francisco satisfying Nisida’s anxiety in respect to the success of her project, by which the total extermination of the banditti had been effected,—and she conveying to him as much of the outline of her adventures during the last seven months as she thought it prudent to impart. They then separated, it being now very late; and, moreover, Nisida had still some work in hand for that night. The moment Francisco was alone, he exclaimed aloud, “Oh! is it possible that this dear sister who loves me so much, is really the bitter enemy of Flora? But to-morrow—to-morrow I must have a long explanation with Nisida; and Heaven grant that she may not stand in the way of my happiness! Oh, Flora—dearest Flora, if you knew how deeply I have suffered on your account during my captivity in that accursed cavern! And what must you have thought of my disappearance—my absence! Alas! did the same vengeance which pursued me wreak its spite also on thee, fair girl?—did the miscreant, Antonio, who boastingly proclaimed himself to my face the author of my captivity, and who sullenly refused to give me any tidings of those whom I cared for, and of what was passing in the world without,—did he dare to molest thee? But suspense is intolerable, I cannot endure it even for a few short hours! No—I will speed me at once to the dwelling of my Flora, and thus assuage her grief and put an end to my own fears at the same time!”

Having thus resolved, Francisco repaired to his own apartment, enveloped himself in a cloak, secured weapons of defense about his person, and then quitted the mansion, unperceived by a living soul. Almost at the same time, but by another mode of egress—namely, the private staircase leading from her own apartments into the garden, and which has been so often mentioned in the course of this narrative—Donna Nisida stole likewise from the Riverola palace. She was habited in male attire; and beneath her doublet she wore the light but strong cuirass which she usually donned ere setting out on any nocturnal enterprise, and which she was now particularly cautious not to omit from the details of her toilet, inasmuch as the mysterious appearance of the muffled figure, which had alarmed her on the previous evening, induced her to adopt every precaution against secret and unknown enemies. Whither was the Lady Nisida now hurrying, through the dark streets of Florence?—what new object had she in contemplation?