The escribano took the hint, and handed the paper to the Alcalde, who signed it, as did also the chief alguazil.
"Caramba!" exclaimed the magistrate, yawning and stretching himself. "We have done for to-night, but it is only to begin again to-morrow. Well—oremos, Señores!"
And so saying, the man rose from his seat, approached a sideboard, on which was a basin and can of water, and after he and his two companions had washed their hands, they took from the table the candles, a crucifix, and an image of the Virgin de los Remedios, placed them upon a stool that stood against the wall, knelt down, and prayed audibly, "Ave Maria, regina cœli, audi nos peccatores!" Those of the verdugos and jailers who still remained in the vault, joined in the supplication with that solemn fervor which Spaniards are wont to blend with their devotions. When the prayer was ended, the alcalde rose, took up his papers, and left the vault, accompanied by the escribano and chief alguazil, and followed by the inferior officials, with the exception of one, whose blue and white dress indicated an executioner. To this man the alguazil, in going out, had whispered something which made him start. Recovering, however, from his surprise, he extinguished the candles, wrapped himself in a sheep-skin, and lay down upon one of the benches.
Chapter the Forty-Second.
| "Per me si va nella citta dolente, Per me si va nell' eterno dolore, Per me si va tra la perduta gente." Dante. |
All was now still in the spacious vault, with the exception of a distant clank of chains and murmur of voices, which echoed dismally along the massive walls and under the gloomy arches. Suddenly, rapid but cautious footsteps were heard, and three persons, the foremost of whom was the chief alguazil, entered, looked cautiously around them, and then beckoned to the executioner, who rose from his hard couch, and preceded them into a narrow gloomy corridor. This led them into another vault, of dismal and dreary aspect. It was lighted by a single lamp, of which the light fell so pale and dim upon the grey and gloomy walls, that it seemed as if the intention had been to give those who entered only a gradual acquaintance with the horrors of the place. The roof was supported by pillars of enormous thickness; along the walls were fixed tables and benches of various construction, some resembling chests, others grates, and some like small carts; but all of iron. Chains, thick as a man's arm, hung upon the walls and pillars, which were running with moisture, and in these fetters were figures, in sitting, standing, and kneeling postures, of which the outline was that of human beings, but, whether living or dead, the imperfect lamp-light rendered it impossible to distinguish. They gave, however, no sign of vitality. There were also numerous low doors, or rather iron gratings, closing narrow holes in the wall. The aspect of the whole place was that of a subterranean slaughter-house, with dens around it for wild beasts.
Upon entering this vault, two of the four persons, who were wrapped in ample cloaks, paused behind one of the pillars, while the other two hastened to a cell and crept into it. It was one of those dungeons devised by the ingenious cruelty of Mexico's tyrannical rulers, and which had received the appropriate name of inferniellos—five feet high, six feet long, and as many broad. No superfluity of furniture—a stone bench, rings and chains. Upon the former a young man now sat, or rather hung, his neck encircled by a massive iron ring, his hands stretched out and maintained by chains in the attitude of one upon the cross, his head drooping forward over the iron collar. A cap that covered his head was drawn down over eyes and face, allowing little more than the mouth and chin to be visible. From time to time the unfortunate captive uttered deep moans, like those of some vanquished and expiring lion, and which for an instant startled his two visitors. Recovering himself, however, the chief alguazil, for he was one of them, approached the prisoner, and endeavoured to open the neck-iron. His companion, the executioner, hastily seized his arm.
"Beware, Señor," cried he; "if you touch a wrong spring, his neck is snapped as though it were a maize stalk; and, by San Lorenzo! I think it would almost be a kindness to do it. The caballero is the first whom ever heard beg for death, and call upon God and devil to send it him. But, nevertheless, may the lowermost hell catch me, if I had not a notion that this manga would never see the inside of old Lorenzo's wallet."
While thus discoursing, this wild executer of the laws had unfettered the prisoner.
"Silencio!" said the alguazil. "You were mistaken. The manga shall be yours."