Darkness now rapidly gathered round me; and in a short time it was impossible for me to distinguish anything but the faint outline of the loophole in the wall above me.
As night descended upon the earth, a soft and gentle breeze sprang up, which, entering through the loophole, cooled my fevered blood and permitted me so far to regain control of myself that I once more became cognisant of outward sounds, of which I seemed to have lost all consciousness from the moment I had been thrust into that horrible dungeon. There was the roar of the artillery, the fainter boom of our own guns, the occasional rattle of vehicles along the street, the rumble of heavy ammunition waggons, the frequent clatter of horses’ feet; and, now and then, the sound of a human voice. Gradually most of these sounds lulled, and became more infrequent, until finally they died away altogether; and long intervals of perfect silence ensued, broken only by the occasional crashing discharge of a single gun. And so I knew that night had fallen upon the earth without as well as upon the unhappy prisoner within.
After the lapse of some hours, as it seemed to me, I became conscious of a faint sound outside my prison-door; a key rattled in the lock, the bolts jarred back; the door was flung open; a stream of light flooded the cell, blinding me for the moment; and when my eyesight returned Guiseppe the Corsican was standing in the chamber, in the act of closing the door carefully behind him.
Placing upon the floor the small hand-lamp which he carried, he flung himself carelessly down on the stone bench; and, with an evil smile hovering about his lips, began to jeer at my unfortunate situation.
“Well, signor Englishman,” he commenced, “how like you your new lodging? It is scarcely so large, and I fear it is not as elegantly furnished, as Francesca Paoli’s silken chamber, is it? But never mind, my friend; your stay here is but short; and I daresay you can contrive to put up with a little temporary inconvenience in the meantime, can you not?”
“Are you here to make sport of my misfortunes?” I asked.
“Certainly,” he replied; “what other purpose do you suppose I could have in visiting you here in the dead of night? Perhaps you thought I had come to set you free and help you to rejoin your accursed countrymen? No! I hate you all—you Englishmen—and you especially; and I could not deny myself the pleasure of looking in upon you to see how you face the approach of a disgraceful death. I am rejoiced to see how pale and haggard you look. It has told upon you, as it must necessarily tell upon all cowards. Let me note carefully how you look, now; so that I may compare it with your appearance a few hours hence, when you face the muskets of your executioners. Pah! why you are quailing already, you white-livered poltroon; what will it be in the morning?”
I had resolved the moment I perceived the villain’s object, that nothing he might say or do should wring any outward manifestation from me. But as he went on, the apathy which had before possessed me gave way under the influence of his taunts; my indignation was gradually aroused until my blood boiled; and now, rising suddenly, I sprang upon him with the bound of a tiger, clutching his sinewy neck with both hands and pressing my thumbs with all my strength into his throat.
The ruffian was so completely taken by surprise by the suddenness and violence of this unexpected attack that he went down unresistingly before me, the back of his head striking violently upon the hard stone bench upon which he had been seated.
I was now fully roused; I felt possessed of the strength and fury of a demon; and, still retaining my vice-like grasp upon his throat, I raised his head again and again and again, only to dash it with intensified violence against the stones each time. The miserable wretch grasped at the knife in his belt and drew it out; but before he had time to use it I had dashed his head yet once more against the stones, with such superhuman strength and violence that a dull crushing sound accompanied the blow, the man uttered a deep groan, and the knife fell clinking on the floor from his nerveless hand. Relaxing my grasp upon his throat, I raised the lamp and allowed its rays to fall upon my victim’s face. It was of a livid purple hue. The tongue, hanging out of the mouth, was bitten nearly through; his whiskers were wet with blood, which oozed in two thin streams from his throat where I had grasped it; and a slowly widening pool of blood was steadily spreading over the bench beneath his head.