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space between them. Vivenzio shuddered as he
gazed, and as his steps traversed the narrowed area.
But his feelings no longer vented themselves in
frantic wailings. With folded arms, and clenched
teeth, with eyes that were blood-shot from much
watching, and fixed with a vacant glare upon the
ground, with a hard quick breathing, and a hurried
walk, he strode backwards and forwards in silent
musing for several hours. What mind shall conceive,
what tongue utter, or what pen describe the
dark and terrible character of his thoughts! Like
the fate that moulded them, they had no similitude
in the wide range of this world's agony for man.
Suddenly he stopped, and his eyes were riveted
upon that part of the wall which was over his bed
of straw. Words are inscribed here! A human
language, traced by a human hand! He rushes
towards them: but his blood freezes as he reads :
“ I, Ludovica Sforza, tempted by the gold of
the prince of Tolfi, spent three years in contriving
and executing this accursed triumph of my art.
When it was completed, the perfidious Tolfi, more
devil than man, who conducted mo hither ono
morning, to be witness as he said, of its perfection,
doomed me to be the first victim of my own pernicious
skill; lest as he declared, I should divulge
the secret, or repeat the effort of my ingenuity.
May God pardon him, as I hope he will me, that
ministered to his unhallowed purpose! Miserable
wretch, whoe’er thou art, that readest these lines,
fall on thy knees, and invoke as I have done, His
sustaining mercy, who alone can nerve theo to meet
the vengeance of Tolfi, armed with his tremendous
engine, which in a few hours must crush you, as it
will the needy wretch that made it.”
A deep groan burst from Vivenzio. He stood