Chapter 29

IN AND OUT THE SHADOW

It is strange I remember so little from that instant when my tortured hands released their frantic grasp on the stone slab of the floor. I recall the sharp pain, as that fair-faced fiend stamped upon my clutching fingers; I heard the echo of sneering laughter with which she mocked my last upward look of agony, but, with the plunge downward into that black, unknown abyss, all clear recollection ceased--I even retain no memory of the severe shock which must have occurred as my fall ended. Whether excess of fear paralyzed the brain, or what may have been the cause for such a phenomenon, I know not. I merely state the fact.

I awoke--how much later God alone knows--lying upon the rough stone bottom of an awful well, huddled in its blackness. When I finally made attempt at straightening my cramped limbs it seemed as if each separate muscle had been beaten and bruised, and it required no little manipulation before I even recovered sufficient strength to stand upright and endeavor to ascertain the nature of my grewsome prison-house. My stiffness caused me to believe that I must have lain motionless for several hours in the same cramped position into which I fell, before even regaining consciousness. Another evidence of this was the blood which, having flowed copiously from a severe cut upon the back of my head, had so thoroughly hardened as to stanch the ugly wound, thus, perhaps, preserving my life.

Slowly I returned to a clear realization of my position, for my eyes opened upon such intense darkness I could scarcely comprehend in my weakened, dazed condition that it was not all a dream from which I was yet to awaken. Little by little the mind began asserting itself, vaguely feeling here and there, putting scrap with scrap, until returning memory poured in upon me like a flood, and I grasped the terrible truth that I was buried alive. The knowledge was a deathlike blow, with which I struggled desperately, seeking to regain control over my shattered nerves. I recall yet the frenzied laugh bursting from my lips--seemingly the lips of a stranger--ringing wild and hollow, not unlike the laughter of the insane; I remember tearing wide open the front of my doublet, feeling I must surely choke from the suffocating pressure upon my chest; I retain memory of glaring violently into the darkness; how I fondled the sharp edge of the hunting knife, crying and shouting impotent curses, which I trust God has long ago forgiven, at that incarnate devil who had hurled me down to such living death. Terror dominated my brain, pulsed like molten fire through my blood, until, as the desperation of my situation became more clearly defined, I tottered upon the very verge of insanity, feeling I should soon become a helpless, gibbering imbecile.

Yet, as I succeeded in staggering weakly to my feet, the movement and exertion served to quiet my apprehensions, while hope came faintly back, bringing with it, as though newly born, a determination never to yield without one manly struggle. I possessed a knife; perchance there might be discovered some opportunity for using it. With outspread hands, and groping feet, I attempted to advance, but found I had fallen so close to the centre of the well that I had to make several steps before my extended fingers touched the cold wall. This I followed slowly, passing exploring hands with utmost care over each inch, from the floor to as high as I could reach on tiptoe, until confident I had made the complete circuit. It was all the same, vast slabs of flat stone, welded together by some rude yet effective masonry, the mortar between impervious to the sharp probing of the knife. Again and again I made that circuit, testing each crack, sounding every separate stone in the hope of discovering some slight fault in construction by which I might profit. Everywhere I was confronted by the same dull, dead wall of cold, hard rock, against which I exerted strength and skill uselessly. Finally I dropped upon my knees, creeping inch by inch across the floor, but with no better result. It likewise was composed of great slabs of stone, one having an irregular crack running through it from corner to corner, but all alike solid and immovable.

Then the last faint flicker of hope deserted me. Yet the exercise of that fruitless search had restored some measure of manhood; my brain no longer throbbed with dull agony, nor did my veins burn as with liquid fire. I felt convinced this black vault was destined to become my grave; here in after years, perhaps, some straying hunter might uncover my mouldering bones, wondering idly at my unknown story, for here I was surely doomed to face all that was mysterious and terrible in death. Well, that end must come to me some time, as to all men; I had seen many die, and, although fate faced me in far more horrid guise than any of these others, yet after all it was merely death, and I had no more cause to fear it here in the dark than yonder in the sunshine. Besides, I retained the keen knife-blade; if worse came to worse that was available for release. I passed it caressingly through my fingers, wondering would God forgive its use if the moment came when I must choose between insanity and death.

Merciful Heaven! how time dragged! What awful conceptions were formed in my fevered brain! What leering, sardonic faces pictured themselves against the black wall; what demon voices spoke and laughed in the void above! At times I stood in a cave thronged with jeering devils, some with the savage countenance of the heathen, some yet more satanic; yet ever in the midst of their maddest orgies, the cruel mockery of the infamous Naladi appeared more hellish than that of the rest. She leered down upon me from every side until I seemed to stare into a thousand faces, each wearing her hateful, sardonic smile.

I paced the floor with feverish impatience, counting my steps from wall to wall, hoping by this means to retain control of my brain. Experiencing the sharp pangs of hunger, I slashed a bit of leather from my belt, and chewed it savagely as a dog might chew a dry bone. In my despair, I danced, snapping my fingers, and hurling bitter taunts at the unseen upper world. Exhausted by such useless frenzy, I would sink prone to the floor, every nerve unstrung, lying there panting in helplessness until returning strength again sent me back and forth in that awful tramp from wall to wall. I perceived that the strain of that horrible haunted silence was driving me mad. There was no escape, no hope, no peace. Again and again did I break from incoherent ravings to sink upon my knees, beseeching God for mercy. Yet I arose without rest, without peace. At last I sank weakly down against the wall and lay trembling in every limb, staring blindly with wide-open, unseeing eyes.

I had come to the very end--to that moment when my limbs refused longer to support my swaying body, when my tortured brain was picturing scenes of hellish ingenuity. Ah! look! see! yonder comes now another to torment my soul. O God! Mark that grim, gray face floating against the wall! Away, you foul fiend! I am not yet your prey! But see! see how the ghastly horror grows! It is as large as a man; and mark those long, gaunt arms reaching up until they meet overhead. Suddenly it seemed to shed a strange, unnatural radiance over the cave. I imagined I saw things about me. What, Mother of Mercies, can it be? Daylight! Oh, good God! do my eyes actually look upon the day once more--the sweet, sweet, blessed day? Surely it is but a dream; yet no! it must truly be light streaming down from above.

I staggered to my feet, trembling so that I was compelled to clutch the wall for support. Swinging and swaying down toward me through the dim light, now in the radiance, anon in the shadow, twisting and turning like a great snake, a grass rope steadily dropped ring by ring until its loosened end coiled on the stone floor. I saw it, never believing the testimony of my own eyes, until my trembling hand had actually closed upon it. Then, with the touch in my fingers, the hot tears gushed from my blinded eyes, the tension on my brain gave way, and I was Geoffrey Benteen once more. A cautious whisper pierced the silence.

"If you remain alive, have you strength to mount the rope quickly?"

So parched and swollen were my lips I could not answer, yet managed to take stronger grasp upon the cord, and, finding it firmly held above, made earnest effort to climb. 'Twas a desperate undertaking for one who had passed through the strain which had befallen me; but now, the trembling having somewhat passed, I found myself not entirely devoid of strength, while an intense desire to escape from that hell made me willing to venture. I was dimly conscious of a face gazing intently down through the small aperture, yet, with the swaying of that loosened rope, the slipperiness of its grassy strands between my fingers, I found little opportunity for glancing upward while slowly winning toilsome way toward the light. It was as hard a struggle for life as I ever made, my heart almost ceasing to hope, when I finally felt a hand close firmly upon the collar of my jacket. With that help, I struggled on, until, panting and exhausted, I sank upon the skin-carpeted floor of the apartment from whence I had been hurled into that living tomb.

Half turning as I fell, I gazed into the face of my rescuer, endeavoring to smile as my glad eyes met those of Eloise de Noyan.

"Oh, hush!" she sobbed. "Do not speak of what you have suffered, for I read it all in your eyes. Oh, my poor, poor boy! I thank the merciful Christ you are still alive. Yet I know not how long that demon in form of woman may be absent; besides, her savage guards are everywhere. The slightest sound might bring one to the door, and it will be better that she believe you her victim, buried forever in that foul grave."

I could but gaze at her, my breath coming in sobs of pain.

"How chanced it, Madame, you knew I was thus entombed?" and my hand, yet bleeding from contact with the rope, ventured to touch her own. She looked into my eyes bravely, a red flush in either cheek.

"I overheard those bold words you spoke to her last night across the partition."

"Last night? Rather a week since."

She smiled, her hand-clasp tightening.

"Ah, no, Geoffrey. It has seemed that long even to me waiting opportunity for service, yet 'tis scarcely eight hours since you were hurled into yonder hole. See; the sun in the sky tells the story truly. But every moment we delay only serves to increase our peril of discovery. Assist me, if you have strength, to relay this stone slab. It tested my muscles sorely to drag it aside. No doubt there is a cunning spring somewhere, by use of which it moves easily, yet I sought after it in vain."

Toiling together we finally succeeded in returning the flat cover to its proper position in the flooring, and spread over it a thick skin. Seeing everything was left exactly as when she entered, Madame, who had become a new woman to my eyes, capable and alert, silently led me through a narrow curtained recess to the second apartment. This had evidently been designed as the Queen's reception room, being fairly gorgeous in coloring, the low walls covered with shields of beaten copper, while burnished bits of the same metal, mingled with duller tones of gold and iron, were scattered everywhere in strange profusion. Varied tinted stones and sea-shells had been built into a raised platform, on which stood a couch hidden beneath rich robes of skin, and draped about with multicolored cloth of rude design and texture. Altogether it was an interior of rich barbaric splendor, savage in its unusual beauty, yet possessing here and there an odd touch of civilization almost startling by contrast. You must understand that I enjoyed little opportunity to gaze about and note such details, for Madame was impatient of delay, hurrying me forward until we entered together a partially concealed passage behind where the couch stood. Here my fair guide paused, thrusting into my hands a quantity of food hastily appropriated from a long shelf, concealed by a curtain of scarlet cloth.

"Eat heartily," she commanded quickly, "for you seem very weak. Meanwhile I will stand here, keeping watch lest we be taken by surprise. Should I give a signal, lift yonder red curtain at its farther end, and hide there in silence until I come again."

I partook of the coarse food eagerly enough, yet my eyes were ever upon her, my lips even finding time for speech.

"Have you some plan, Madame?" I questioned anxiously. "You said but now this house was held under heavy guard."

"I spoke truly. I may not step forth into the air but some savage is at my side driving me back again. Oftentimes they peer within when the Queen is absent, to assure themselves that I am safely caged."

"And this Naladi--does she treat you well?"

The swift color mounted into her clear cheeks.

"Not ill, so far, at least, as relates to the physical," she responded gravely. "No hand has been angrily laid upon me since I was dragged forth from the altar-house. Yet there are other forms of torture; and she constantly mocks me with my helplessness, and, I believe, even hates me for no better reason than that I stand between her and the Chevalier."

"You have seen him?"

"No; but have heard his voice while he held private converse with her, the shameless wanton; have listened to words ill suited to the ears of a wife. She is a witch, and the slumbering devil in her has made snare for his weakness."

"I greatly fear there may be truth in this," I returned, scarcely knowing how best to speak at such a time, marking the agitation of her breathing. "Naladi is a fair woman, softly spoken and seductive when it is her purpose to please. There are not many men who could resist her wiles. Yet possibly, Madame, were you to have converse with the Chevalier your plea might break the spell."

She turned toward me with proud, impetuous gesture, and I was surprised at the sudden indignant light glowing within her dark eyes.

"No, Geoffrey Benteen, that will never be. I am this man's wife. He has vowed himself to me before the sacred altar of Holy Church. Think you that I, a lady born of France, would abase myself to beseech his loyalty? Not though life or death hung upon the issue! If he can cast me aside for the caresses of this savage harlot, he may forever go his way; never will my hand halt him, or my voice claim his allegiance. I am his wife before God; to the end I will be true unto my solemn pledges to Holy Church; yet I hope never to look again upon the false face of Charles de Noyan."

"Are you not over-hasty in such decision?" I ventured, conscious of a gladness in my own heart at her impulsive speech. "Possibly this is a mere passing whim, an idle fancy; he may yet emerge from the craze purified by trial."

She looked hard at me, as if seeking to penetrate the flimsy mask I wore, and I beheld a pride in her uplifted face such as had never been visible there before.

"Such might be the way with some women," she returned firmly. "I am of a race to whom honor is everything. My father gave his life for no less, and I hold him right in his choice. I may forgive much of wrong--ay! have forgiven--yet the stain of dishonor now rests upon the proud name I bear, and that can never be forgiven. Whether in New Orleans, or the heart of this wilderness, I am still Eloise Lafrénière, the daughter of a gentleman of France. I would die by the torture of these savages before I would surrender the honor due my race."

There was that in her proud speech silencing my tongue from further expostulation, even had I believed De Noyan deserved a defender. He had deliberately chosen his path, now let him follow it; any man who would thus lightly tread on the heart of such a woman was clearly outside the radius of human sympathy, deserving to be. Certainly I felt no call to stand between him and his fate.

"I may not comprehend the claims of family pride, Madame," I responded finally, for want of something better. "Of that I know little. Yet I cannot contend that your decision is wrong. However, let us talk of other things, permitting this disagreement to adjust itself. You have not stated how I am to escape from this present predicament. It surely looks a problem not easily solved."

"Nor is it clear even in my mind," she admitted, evidently relieved by the change of topic, "because I do not know the ending of a certain passage underground. Yet I have a plan. Behind the curtain, yonder, a concealed opening leads downward into an underground gallery. I have ventured to explore it for only a brief distance, but trust it may end under the open sky. At least our only hope is that you may discover some such ending. If not, you can only return to me, and we wilt seek other means for escape, if, indeed, there are any."

"I am to understand you do not flee with me?"

She shook her head gravely, her cheeks flushed, her dark eyes lowered.

"No; I deem such move not best after those words the Queen spoke to you last night," she answered simply. "Besides, our best efforts at escape would be futile should she suspect you have not perished where she entombed you. I am safe here, for the present at least, while you can accomplish much more for all of us if she believes you dead and takes no precautions to guard against you."

I could scarcely bear the thought of her remaining in the power of that half-savage creature, who wielded such despotic power over her wild tribesmen. Inspired by fear of the result I begged reconsideration, urging her to accompany me in flight; but she was firm in refusal.

"No; urge it no longer, good friend. I know you speak from the heart, yet it is not best. You cannot know to what depths of peril, or disappointment, this passage may lead, while, by remaining behind, I can help to hide your trail, and possibly open to you some way of retreat. But hush!" She held up her hand. "It is the Queen returning; neither of us must be discovered here."

I took a step forward, gaining undisputed possession of the uplifted palm.

"I depart at your wish, Madame," I said brokenly; "but may the merciful God bring us to each other again."

For a breathless instant, even while the sounds without drew nearer, her eyes looked confidingly into mine.

"All must be as God wills," she replied gravely. "Here or hereafter, Geoffrey Benteen, I believe it shall be. Until then, continue to prove the same true man you have ever been, doubting not the trust of her who now bids you speed."

There were voices lightly conversing at the entrance, and I distinguished clearly the senseless laughter of De Noyan. Lower I bent above the white hand reposing in my rough grasp, until my lips pressed the soft flesh; nor was it withdrawn from the caress.

"Good-bye, Eloise," I whispered, and, sweeping aside the heavy folds of curtain, vanished from her sight.