es to a door in the wall hidden by a heavy fall of tapestry,
and opens it.

THE MAN. George! where art thou going? Who has made known to thee this
secret passage into endless vaults covered with eternal darkness? to
this black charnel house, where moulder the bones of earlier and
countless victims?

GEORGE. Where thine eye, accustomed to the sunshine, has no power to
pierce, my spirit presses forward.

Gloom roll on to gloom--and darkness gather unto darkness!

He enters the door, followed by his father, and rapidly descends
into the vault.

* * * * *

A long, vaulted, subterranean dungeon. Grates, bars, chains, and
broken instruments of torture. The Man, with a torch in his hand,
stands at the base of a great block of granite, on the top of which
stands George.

THE MAN. Come down to me, George, I implore!

GEORGE. Hearest thou not these voices? Seest thou not these forms?

THE MAN. All is still as the grave--and almost as dark. The light of the
torch is instantly swallowed up by the damp chill gloom around us!

GEORGE. Listen! Ever nearer! ever clearer! One after another they are
slowly filing on from the depths of the narrow vaults--they are solemnly
seating themselves below, far in the background; behind thee, father!

THE MAN. Thy madness is my damnation! Thy mind is wandering, my poor
child; thou art destroying the strength which I now so sorely need!

GEORGE. I see their pale and stately forms as they collect for fearful
judgment! I see the prisoner approach the dreadful bar, his tall form
seems.... I cannot discern his features--they float and flow like
morning mist! Hark!

CHORUS OF VOICES. We, once chained, beaten, tormented, choked with dust
and broken with stones, through the Power now given to our hands,
proceed in our turn to sentence!

We too will judge and torture; try and condemn; Satan himself will
delight to assume the execution of our sentence.

THE MAN. George, what dost thou see?

George. The prisoner! the prisoner, father! He wring his hands--O
father! father!

A VOICE. With thee dies out the accursed race; all its power, all its
passions, all its pride, have joined in thee to perish!

CHORUS OF VOICES. _Because thou hast loved nothing--revered nothing save
thyself and thine own thoughts--thou art condemned--art damned to all
eternity!_

THE MAN. I see nothing, but I hear from every side--above--below--sighs