hand on Franz’s shoulder.
“Would you like to see a camp of bandits in repose?” he inquired.
“Exceedingly,” replied Franz.
“Come with me, then. Peppino, put out the torch.”
Peppino obeyed, and Franz and the count were in utter darkness, except that fifty paces in advance of them a reddish glare, more evident since Peppino had put out his torch, was visible along the wall.
They advanced silently, the count guiding Franz as if he had the singular faculty of seeing in the dark. Franz himself, however, saw his way more plainly in proportion as he went on towards the light, which served in some manner as a guide.
Three arcades were before them, and the middle one was used as a door. These arcades opened on one side into the corridor where the count and Franz were, and on the other into a large square chamber, entirely surrounded by niches similar to those of which we have spoken.
In the midst of this chamber were four stones, which had formerly served as an altar, as was evident from the cross which still surmounted them.
A lamp, placed at the base of a pillar, lighted up with its pale and flickering flame the singular scene which presented itself to the eyes of the two visitors concealed in the shadow.
A man was seated with his elbow leaning on the column, and was reading with his back turned to