In turning up the ground of the cell, it was discovered that it
communicated with the dungeon in which Ferdinand had been confined,
and where he had heard those groans which had occasioned him so much
terror. The story which the marquis formerly related to his son, concerning
the southern buildings, it was now evident was fabricated for the
purpose of concealing the imprisonment of the marchioness. In the
choice of his subject, he certainly discovered some art; for the
circumstance related was calculated, by impressing terror, to prevent
farther enquiry into the recesses of these buildings. It served, also,
to explain, by supernatural evidence, the cause of those sounds, and
of that appearance which had been there observed, but which were, in
reality, occasioned only by the marquis.
The event of the examination in the cell threw Ferdinand into new
perplexity. The marquis had confessed that he poisoned his wife--yet
her remains were not to be found; and the place which he signified to
be that of her confinement, bore no vestige of her having been there.
There appeared no way by which she could have escaped from her prison;
for both the door which opened upon the cell, and that which
terminated the avenue beyond, were fastened when tried by Ferdinand.
But the young marquis had no time for useless speculation--serious
duties called upon him. He believed that Julia was still in the power
of banditti; and, on the conclusion of his father's funeral, he set
forward himself to Palermo, to give information of the abode of the
robbers, and to repair with the officers of justice, accompanied by a
party of his own people, to the rescue of his sister. On his arrival
at Palermo he was informed, that a banditti, whose retreat had been
among the ruins of a monastery, situated in the forest of Marentino,
was already discovered; that their abode had been searched, and
themselves secured for examples of public justice--but that no captive
lady had been found amongst them. This latter intelligence excited in
Ferdinand a very serious distress, and he was wholly unable to
conjecture her fate. He obtained leave, however, to interrogate those
of the robbers, who were imprisoned at Palermo, but could draw from
them no satisfactory or certain information.
At length he quitted Palermo for the forest of Marentino, thinking it
possible that Julia might be heard of in its neighbourhood. He
travelled on in melancholy and dejection, and evening overtook him
long before he reached the place of his destination. The night came on
heavily in clouds, and a violent storm of wind and rain arose. The
road lay through a wild and rocky country, and Ferdinand could obtain
no shelter. His attendants offered him their cloaks, but he refused to
expose a servant to the hardship he would not himself endure. He
travelled for some miles in a heavy rain; and the wind, which howled
mournfully among the rocks, and whose solemn pauses were filled by the
distant roarings of the sea, heightened the desolation of the scene.
At length he discerned, amid the darkness from afar, a red light
waving in the wind: it varied with the blast, but never totally
disappeared. He pushed his horse into a gallop, and made towards it.