One of the extinguished candles was near me; I lighted it with trembling hands and held it aloft—­then I uttered a wild shriek of horror!  Oh, God of inexorable justice, surely Thy vengeance was greater than mine!  An enormous block of stone, dislodged by the violence of the storm, had fallen from the roof of the vault; fallen sheer down over the very place where she had sat a minute or two before, fantastically smiling!  Crushed under the huge mass—­crushed into the very splinters of my own empty coffin, she lay—­and yet—­ and yet—­I could see nothing, save one white hand protruding—­the hand on which the marriage-ring glittered mockingly!  Even as I looked, that hand quivered violently—­beat the ground—­and then—­was still!  It was horrible.  In dreams I see that quivering white hand now, the jewels on it sparkling with derisive luster.  It appeals, it calls, it threatens, it prays! and when my time comes to die, it will beckon me to my grave!  A portion of her costly dress was visible—­my eyes lighted on this—­and I saw a slow stream of blood oozing thickly from beneath the stone—­the ponderous stone that no man could have moved an inch—­the stone that sealed her awful sepulcher!  Great Heaven! how fast the crimson stream of life trickled!—­staining the snowy lace of her garment with a dark and dreadful hue!  Staggering feebly like a drunken man—­half delirious with anguish—­I approached and touched that small white hand that lay stiffly on the ground—­I bent my head—­I almost kissed it, but some strange revulsion rose in my soul and forbade the act!

In a stupor of dull agony I sought and found the crucifix of the monk Cipriano that had fallen to the floor—­I closed the yet warm finger-tips around it and left it thus; an unnatural, terrible calmness froze the excitement of my strained nerves.

“’Tis all I can do for thee!” I muttered, incoherently.  “May Christ forgive thee, though I cannot!”

And covering my eyes to shut out the sight before me I turned away.  I hurried in a sort of frenzy toward the stairway—­on reaching the lowest step I extinguished the torch I carried.  Some impulse made me glance back—­and I saw what I see now—­what I shall always see till I die!  An aperture had been made through the roof of the vault by the fall of the great stone, and through this the fitful moon poured down a long ghostly ray.  The green glimmer, like a spectral lamp, deepened the surrounding darkness, only showing up with fell distinctness one object—­that slender protruding wrist and hand, whiter than Alpine snow!  I gazed at it wildly—­the gleam of the jewels down there hurt my eyes—­the shine of the silver crucifix clasped in those little waxen fingers dazzled my brain-and with a frantic cry of unreasoning terror, I rushed up the steps with a maniac speed—­opened the iron gate through which she would pass no more, and stood at liberty in the free air, face to face with a wind as tempestuous as my own passions.