The castle of Mazzini was still the scene of dissension and misery.
The impatience and astonishment of the marquis being daily increased
by the lengthened absence of the duke, he dispatched servants to the
forest of Marentino, to enquire the occasion of this circumstance.
They returned with intelligence that neither Julia, the duke, nor any
of his people were there. He therefore concluded that his daughter had
fled the cottage upon information of the approach of the duke, who, he
believed, was still engaged in the pursuit. With respect to
Ferdinand, who yet pined in sorrow and anxiety in his dungeon, the
rigour of the marquis's conduct was unabated. He apprehended that his
son, if liberated, would quickly discover the retreat of Julia, and by
his advice and assistance confirm her in disobedience.
Ferdinand, in the stillness and solitude of his dungeon, brooded over
the late calamity in gloomy ineffectual lamentation. The idea of
Hippolitus--of Hippolitus murdered--arose to his imagination in busy
intrusion, and subdued the strongest efforts of his fortitude. Julia
too, his beloved sister--unprotected--unfriended--might, even at the
moment he lamented her, be sinking under sufferings dreadful to
humanity. The airy schemes he once formed of future felicity,
resulting from the union of two persons so justly dear to him--with
the gay visions of past happiness--floated upon his fancy, and the
lustre they reflected served only to heighten, by contrast, the
obscurity and gloom of his present views. He had, however, a new
subject of astonishment, which often withdrew his thoughts from their
accustomed object, and substituted a sensation less painful, though
scarcely less powerful. One night as he lay ruminating on the past, in
melancholy dejection, the stillness of the place was suddenly
interrupted by a low and dismal sound. It returned at intervals in
hollow sighings, and seemed to come from some person in deep distress.
So much did fear operate upon his mind, that he was uncertain whether
it arose from within or from without. He looked around his dungeon,
but could distinguish no object through the impenetrable darkness. As
he listened in deep amazement, the sound was repeated in moans more
hollow. Terror now occupied his mind, and disturbed his reason; he
started from his posture, and, determined to be satisfied whether any
person beside himself was in the dungeon, groped, with arms extended,
along the walls. The place was empty; but coming to a particular spot,
the sound suddenly arose more distinctly to his ear. He called aloud,
and asked who was there; but received no answer. Soon after all was
still; and after listening for some time without hearing the sounds
renewed, he laid himself down to sleep. On the following day he
mentioned to the man who brought him food what he had heard, and
enquired concerning the noise. The servant appeared very much
terrified, but could give no information that might in the least
account for the circumstance, till he mentioned the vicinity of the
dungeon to the southern buildings. The dreadful relation formerly
given by the marquis instantly recurred to the mind of Ferdinand, who
did not hesitate to believe that the moans he heard came from the
restless spirit of the murdered Della Campo. At this conviction,
horror thrilled his nerves; but he remembered his oath, and was
silent. His courage, however, yielded to the idea of passing another
night alone in his prison, where, if the vengeful spirit of the
murdered should appear, he might even die of the horror which its
appearance would inspire.