THE
IRON SHROUD.
The castle of the Prince of Tolfi was built on the summit of the towering and precipitious rock of Scylla, and commanded a magnificent view of Sicily in all its grandeur. Here during the wars of tho middle ages, when the fertile plains of Italy were devastated by hostile factions, those prisoners were confined, for whose ransom a costly price was demanded. Here, too, in a dungeon, excavated deep in tho solid rock, the miserable victim was immurled, whom, revenge pursued,—the dark, fierce, and unpitying revenge of an Italian heart.
Vivenzio—the noble, and the generous, the fearless in battle, and the pride of Naples in her sunny hours of peace—the young, the brave, the proud, Vivenzio fell beneath this subtile and remorseless spirit. He was the prisoner of Tolfi, and he languished in that rock-encircled dungeon, which stood alone, and whose portals never opened twice upon a living captive.
It had tho resemblance of a vast cage, for tho roof, and floor, and sides, were of iron, solidly wrought, and spaciously constructed. High above there ran a range of seven grated windows, guarded with massy bars of the same metal, which admitted light and air. Save these, and the tall
