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Page 14
Three men in black, with curious, top-heavy, black velvet
hats, sat in a line upon a red-carpeted dais. Their faces were
very solemn and sad. On the left stood two long-gowned men with
port-folios in their hands, which seemed to be stuffed with papers.
Upon the right, looking toward me, was a small woman with
blonde hair and singular, light-blue eyes--the eyes of a child.
She was past her first youth, but could not yet be called middle-
aged. Her figure was inclined to stoutness and her bearing was
proud and confident. Her face was pale, but serene. It was a
curious face, comely and yet feline, with a subtle suggestion of
cruelty about the straight, strong little mouth and chubby jaw.
She was draped in some sort of loose, white gown. Beside her stood
a thin, eager priest, who whispered in her ear, and continually
raised a crucifix before her eyes. She turned her head and looked
fixedly past the crucifix at the three men in black, who were, I
felt, her judges.
As I gazed the three men stood up and said something, but I
could distinguish no words, though I was aware that it was the
central one who was speaking. They then swept out of the room,
followed by the two men with the papers. At the same instant
several rough-looking fellows in stout jerkins came bustling in and
removed first the red carpet, and then the boards which formed the
dais, so as to entirely clear the room. When this screen was
removed I saw some singular articles of furniture behind it. One
looked like a bed with wooden rollers at each end, and a winch
handle to regulate its length. Another was a wooden horse. There
were several other curious objects, and a number of swinging cords
which played over pulleys. It was not unlike a modern gymnasium.
When the room had been cleared there appeared a new figure upon
the scene. This was a tall, thin person clad in black, with a
gaunt and austere face. The aspect of the man made me shudder.
His clothes were all shining with grease and mottled with stains.
He bore himself with a slow and impressive dignity, as if he took
command of all things from the instant of his entrance. In spite
of his rude appearance and sordid dress, it was now his business,
his room, his to command. He carried a coil of light ropes over
his left forearm. The lady looked him up and down with a searching
glance, but her expression was unchanged. It was confident--even
defiant. But it was very different with the priest. His face was
ghastly white, and I saw the moisture glisten and run on his high,
sloping forehead. He threw up his hands in prayer and he stooped
continually to mutter frantic words in the lady's ear.
The man in black now advanced, and taking one of the cords from
his left arm, he bound the woman's hands together. She held them
meekly toward him as he did so. Then he took her arm with a rough
grip and led her toward the wooden horse, which was little higher
than her waist. On to this she was lifted and laid, with her back
upon it, and her face to the ceiling, while the priest, quivering
with horror, had rushed out of the room. The woman's lips were
moving rapidly, and though I could hear nothing I knew that she was
praying. Her feet hung down on either side of the horse, and I saw
that the rough varlets in attendance had fastened cords to her
ankles and secured the other ends to iron rings in the stone floor.
My heart sank within me as I saw these ominous preparations,
and yet I was held by the fascination of horror, and I could not
take my eyes from the strange spectacle. A man had entered the
room with a bucket of water in either hand. Another followed with
a third bucket. They were laid beside the wooden horse. The
second man had a wooden dipper--a bowl with a straight handle--in
his other hand. This he gave to the man in black. At the same
moment one of the varlets approached with a dark object in his
hand, which even in my dream filled me with a vague feeling of
familiarity. It was a leathern filler. With horrible energy he
thrust it--but I could stand no more. My hair stood on end with
horror. I writhed, I struggled, I broke through the bonds of
sleep, and I burst with a shriek into my own life, and found myself
lying shivering with terror in the huge library, with the moonlight
flooding through the window and throwing strange silver and black
traceries upon the opposite wall. Oh, what a blessed relief to
feel that I was back in the nineteenth century--back out of that
mediaeval vault into a world where men had human hearts within
their bosoms. I sat up on my couch, trembling in every limb, my
mind divided between thankfulness and horror. To think that such
things were ever done--that they could be done without God striking
the villains dead. Was it all a fantasy, or did it really stand
for something which had happened in the black, cruel days of the
world's history? I sank my throbbing head upon my shaking
hands. And then, suddenly, my heart seemed to stand still in my
bosom, and I could not even scream, so great was my terror.
Something was advancing toward me through the darkness of the room.
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