The candles burned brightly in
the little pavilion. Presently one was extinguished. Upon this,
Calderon pressed forward to the steps, hastily ascended them, and
passed into the vestibule. Catalina followed on his traces. What
succeeded was all one scene of continued, dreadful dumb show; different
passions of panic, or deadly struggle, or hellish malice absolutely
suffocated all articulate words.
In a moment a gurgling sound was heard, as of a wild beast attempting
vainly to yell over some creature that it was strangling. Next came a
tumbling out at the door of one black mass, which heaved and parted at
intervals into two figures, which closed, which parted again, which at
last fell down the steps together. Then appeared a figure in white. It
was the unhappy Andalusian; and she seeing the outline of Catalina's
person, ran up to her, unable to utter one syllable. Pitying the agony
of her horror, Catalina took her within her own cloak, and carried her
out at the garden gate. Calderon had by this time died; and the
maniacal Alcalde had risen up to pursue his wife. But Kate, foreseeing
what he would do, had stepped silently within the shadow of the garden
wall. Looking down the road to the town, and seeing nobody moving, the
maniac, for some purpose, went back to the house.
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