It was during the time Venice was under the rule of Austria. The Austrian officers were never inclined to show any favors to the Italians, and consequently the appeals of the guide to those in charge of the city were of no avail. So, finally, with Italian resignation to what could not be very well helped, he went home, wrapped himself in the bosom of his family, and slept the sleep of the innocent and conscientious.
MAKING A NIGHT OF IT.
Meantime the two travellers were having a good time of it down below. They stood it for a while very well, but the half hour appeared to them three or four times what it really was. Very soon the thing ceased to be a joke. They were well aware that the time might seem long to them, but they thought it was stretching itself out altogether too much for comfort. They were in a cell where they could not walk around, and where there was no chance to kill time by turning summersaults or playing leap-frog. They stood a while and talked; then they stood a while and swore; and then they had another period of standing still and shouting. The facilities for standing still were unlimited, but those for doing anything else were very much restricted.
They shouted themselves hoarse, and obtained no response. The result of their swearing was pretty nearly the same. They began to grow hungry and thirsty, but there was nothing to eat, and there were no materials at hand for quenching their thirst. The half hour extended to an hour, and then to two hours, and then they concluded to sit down and wait for the fellow to come back. They had no means of knowing how time was passing, as their watches were not of that peculiar kind that strikes the hours, and tells you how you are getting along.
They listened and listened, and finally they heard sounds; but they were not welcome ones, as they were caused by the rats that ran about the place. The rats seemed to have a fondness for the dungeon. They did not make much noise, and could only be heard when the strangers were perfectly still; but there they were in goodly numbers, and their presence was not consoling to the travellers.
From hungry and thirsty they began to grow sleepy, but the facilities for sleeping were not good. The furniture of these prisons was never elaborate, even in the days of the glory of Venice. The rulers of that city never thought of providing their prisons with upholstered sofas, and four-post bedsteads. The furniture generally consisted of a bundle or two of straw, and possibly a chain. Sometimes a stool was added, but it was a luxury which every prisoner did not possess. There was neither straw nor sofa in the cell at the time these unhappy travellers were shut up there, and consequently, if they wished to sleep, they must lie down on the bare floor of stone and hard earth, at the risk of taking cold and spoiling their store clothes.
RATS AND THEIR FAMILIARITIES.
They compromised the matter by sitting down in the corners and taking occasional winks of sleep. Their slumbers were not of long duration, and were interrupted by the rats running over them, and making themselves remarkably free, considering that they had never been introduced.
Hour after hour passed away. One of the men said, “it seemed as if we were shut up a full month; and,” said he, “I suppose if I had been alone it would have seemed to me about six months.”
Finally, in the morning, as soon as the palace was opened, the guide returned with his torches, and rescued the prisoners from their confinement. He tried to make them believe that he had only been gone about half an hour, and he almost convinced them of the truth of his averment, by proceeding to show them, in a very mechanical way, the other curiosities of the place, and to tell them it would soon be sunset, when he would go home and prepare to show them the way to the theatre in the evening. He told them, “I suppose, gentlemans, it seemed to you as if you were there a good many hours. It always seem so to gentlemans; they say so always.”