and the worst is known. Now, then, back to those things that never
die--restless projects and daring schemes. That hag's curse keeps my
blood cold still, and this solitude has something in it weird and awful.
Ha!--what sudden light is that?"

The light which caught Montreal's eye broke forth almost like a star,
scarcely larger, indeed, but more red and intense in its ray. Of itself
it was nothing uncommon, and might have shone either from convent or
cottage. But it streamed from a part of the Aventine which contained
no habitations of the living, but only the empty ruins and shattered
porticoes, of which even the names and memories of the ancient
inhabitants were dead. Aware of this, Montreal felt a slight awe (as the
beam threw its steady light over the dreary landscape); for he was
not without the knightly superstitions of the age, and it was now the
witching hour consecrated to ghost and spirit. But fear, whether of
this world or the next, could not long daunt the mind of the hardy
freebooter; and, after a short hesitation, he resolved to make a
digression from his way, and ascertain the cause of the phenomenon.
Unconsciously, the martial tread of the barbarian passed over the site
of the famed, or infamous, Temple of Isis, which had once witnessed
those wildest orgies commemorated by Juvenal; and came at last to a
thick and dark copse, from an opening in the centre of which gleamed the
mysterious light. Penetrating the gloomy foliage, the Knight now found
himself before a large ruin, grey and roofless, from within which came,
indistinct and muffled, the sound of voices. Through a rent in the wall,
forming a kind of casement, and about ten feet from the ground, the
light now broke over the matted and rank soil, embedded, as it were, in
vast masses of shade, and streaming through a mouldering portico hard at
hand. The Provencal stood, though he knew it not, on the very place once
consecrated by the Temple: the Portico and the Library of Liberty (the
first public library instituted in Rome). The wall of the ruin was
covered with innumerable creepers and wild brushwood, and it required
but little agility on the part of Montreal, by the help of these, to
raise himself to the height of the aperture, and, concealed by the
luxuriant foliage, to gaze within. He saw a table, lighted with tapers,
in the centre of which was a crucifix; a dagger, unsheathed; an open
scroll, which the event proved to be of sacred character; and a