“Not the least,” replied I, flushed with
anger and with wine, “I have proof positive.
I have seen her mother, and I can identify the child
by the necklace which was on her neck when you stole
her.”
“Necklace!” cried Melchior.
“Yes, the necklace put into my hands by your
own wife when we parted.”
“Damn her!” replied Melchior.
“Do not damn her; damn yourself for your villany,
and its being brought to light. Have I said enough,
or shall I tell you more?”
“Pray tell me more.”
“No, I will not, for I must commit others, and
that will not do,” replied I; for I felt I had
already said too much.
“You have committed yourself, at all events,”
replied Melchior; “and now I tell you, that
until—never mind,” and Melchior hastened
away.
The door was again locked, and I was once more alone.
I had time to reflect upon my imprudence. The
countenance of Melchior, when he left me, was that
of a demon. Something told me to prepare for
death; and I was not wrong. The next day Melchior
came not, nor the next; my provisions were all gone.
I had nothing but a little wine and water left.
The idea struck me, that I was to die of starvation.
Was there no means of escape? None; I had no
weapon, no tool, not even a knife. I had expended
all my candles. At last, it occurred to me, that,
although I was in a cellar, my voice might be heard,
and I resolved, as a last effort, to attempt it.
I went to the door of the cellar, and shouted at the
top of my lungs, “Murder—murder!”
I shouted again and again as loud as I could, until
I was exhausted. As it afterwards appeared, this
plan did prevent my being starved to death, for such
was Melchior’s villanous intention. About
an hour afterwards I repeated my cries of “Murder—murder!”
and they were heard by the household, who stated to
Melchior, that there was some one shouting murder in
the vaults below. That night, and all the next
day, I repeated my cries occasionally. I was
now quite exhausted, I had been nearly two days without
food, and my wine and water had all been drunk.
I sat down with a parched mouth and heated brain,
waiting till I could sufficiently recover my voice
to repeat my cries, when I heard footsteps approaching.
The key was again turned in the door, and a light
appeared, carried by one of two men armed with large
sledge hammers.
“It is then all over with me,” cried I;
“and I never shall find out who is my father.
Come on, murderers, and do your work. Do it quickly.”
The two men advanced without speaking a word; the
foremost, who carried the lantern, laid it down at
his feet, and raised his hammer with both hands, when
the other behind him raised his weapon—and
the foremost fell dead at his feet.
Is full of perilous
adventures, and in which, the reader may be
assured, there is much
more than meets the eye.
