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yielded to their influence, he found no oblivion
from his cares. Terrible dreams haunted
him—ghastly visions harrowed up his imagination
—he shouted and screamed, as if he already
felt the dungeon’s ponderous roof
descending on him—he breathed hard and thick,
as though writhing between its iron walls.
Then would he spring up—-stare wildly about
him—stretch forth his hands to be sure he yet
had space enough to live—and, muttering
some incoherent word, sink down again, to
pass through the same fierce vicissitudes of delirious
sleep.
The morning of the fourth day dawned
upon Vivenzio. But it was high noon before
his mind shook off its stupor, or he awoke to
a full consciosness of his situation. And what
a fixed energy of despair sat upon his pale
features, as he cast his eyes upwards, and
gazed upon the THREE windows that now alone
remained! The three!—there were no
more!—and they seemed to number his own
alloted days. Slowly and calmly he next surveyed
the top and sides, and comprehended
all the meaning of the diminished height of
the former, as well as of the gradual approximination
of the latter. The contracted dimensions
of his mysterious prison were now
too gross and palpable to be the juggle of his
imagination. Still lost in wonder at the means,
Vivenzio could put no cheat upon his reason.
as to the end. By what horrible ingenuity (illegible text)
