"What a while you are!" exclaimed the child, looking on, with impatience, to see the walls come down. "You should hit harder."
"The walls are very thick, Alberto," observed his father. "All these niches, which have been blocked up, and in the olden time contained statues, have to come down also."
"They are taking down a niche now, are they not, papa?"
"Not yet. They are removing the wall which has been built before it. It appears fresher, too, than the rest; of more recent date."
"It seems extraordinarily fresh, my lord," observed one of the workmen. "The materials are old, but it has certainly been rebuilt within a few years—within ten, I should say."
"Not it," laughed the count. "These corridors have not been touched during my lifetime."
"This portion of them has, my lord, you may rely upon it."
As he spoke, the remainder came down with a tremendous crash, leaving the niches exposed, There was no statue there—but the corpse of the unfortunate Gina Montani, standing upright in her night-dress, was revealed to their sight—nearly as fresh as if she had died but yesterday, having been excluded from the air. The features, it is true, were scarcely to be recognized, but the hair—the long brown curls falling on her neck—was the same as ever. This was her horrible death then—to be walled up alive! The count grew sick and faint as he gazed. Before he had time to collect his startled thoughts, the child pulled at and clung to his arm. "Take me away. What is that dreadful thing? You look white and cold too, not as you always do. Oh, what is it? Dear papa, take me from here!"
The workmen were affrighted—perhaps more so, though less shocked, than the count. But one of them, partially recovering himself, touched the corpse with an implement he had been using, and it came down a heap of dust. The Lord of Visinara turned, and with steps that tottered under him, bore his child back to the castle.