Damnation in the Land of Horror

Spirit Franchezzo's entrance is greeted with great shouts of laughter and wild applause, while half a dozen eager hands take hold of him and drag him to the table―

Let us drink to the damnation of our new brother! 

Let us baptise him with a draught of this fine cooling wine.

Before Spirit Franchezzo realised their intentions, they were all waving their glasses aloft amidst yells and shouts and horrible laughter.

One, seizing a full glass of the fiery liquid, tried to throw it over him. 

Spirit Franchezzo had just presence of mind enough to step over him, so that the liquor was nearly all spilt on the floor and only a small portion fell on his robe, which it scorched and burnt like vitrol. 

The wine turned into a bluish flame― 

Such as one sees with lighted whisky― 

And disappeared with an explosion as of gunpowder.

They put before him a tray full of dishes, which at first sight resembled earthly delicacies, but on closer inspection, Spirit Franchezzo saw they were full of the most horrible corrupting and loathsome maggots. 

As he turned away from them, a hag whose bleared eyes and fiendish expression make him recoil from her, seized him round the neck, and tried with many grimaces, which she intended for coquettish smiles, to induce him to join her and her party in a little game of cards―

The stakes for which we play consist of the liberty of the loser. 

We have invented this pleasing mode of passing our time here since it revives for us the divertissements of the past and because there is no money here, which we can win, seeing it all turns to dross in our hands, we have adopted this mode of paying our debts― 

We agree to be anyone's slave who beats us at our games of chance and skill until we can turn the tables on them and make them our slaves. 

It is a charming arrangement, as you would find if you were to join our party for a little. 

With a strange mixture of insolent arrogance and animosity in her tone, she added― 

These others here are but the canaille, the scum of the place and you do well to turn from them and their amusements. 

But for me, I am a Royal Duchess, and my friends are all noble, also―  

And we would adopt you who are also I perceive one of the elite among ourselves.

With the air of a queen she signed Spirit Franchezzo to be seated beside her.

He shook himself free of her, saying that cards had never possessed any attraction for him. 

Spirit Franchezzo was bent on getting near the woman he wished to speak to and very soon an opening in the crowd allowed him to do so.

As soon as he got beside her, he addressed her in a low voice and asked if she were sorry for the murder of her child.  

Spirit Franchezzo added― 

Do you wish to leave this place even though it will be a long and sad and suffering road that will take you from it?

Her face brightened as he spoke and she eagerly faltered out― 

What do you mean?

Spirit Franchezzo assured her that he meant her well. 

He told her to watch and follow him―  

He intended to find some means for them both to leave. 

She pressed his hand in assent. 

She did not venture to speak, for the other spirits were again crowding around them in a way that was rapidly growing more and more threatening, although they kept up their guise of friendliness.

The Duchess and her party returned to their cards with a frightful avidity

They were quarrelling over them and accusing each other of cheating.

It seemed as though a fight was about to begin in that corner of the room to vary the monotony of their existence. 

Spirit Franchezzo noticed that the others were collecting in groups round the doors so as to keep him from leaving in case he desired to do so and he saw his enemy with the withered hand whispering with some others of very low degraded type, such as might have been slaves in their past lives.  

Half a dozen men and women came up and urged him to join in a dance they were indulging in, which was like some of those abominations you read of in descriptions of the Witches' Sabbaths of the old days of witchcraft.

As these creatures approached, Spirit Franchezzo saw they were trying to get behind them in a ring and surround them.  

Some instinct told him not to allow them and he drew back close to the wall, holding the woman's hand in his and whispering to her not to leave go of him on any account.  

The whole crowd of spirits were now gathering towards his end of the room, the dull ferocity of their faces and wild savage glitter of their eyes in terrible contrast to their affectation of light-hearted gaiety.  

Closer and closer they gathered―  

A moving mass of evil personified.  

For once their quarrels and jealousies merged in their common desire to do him harm―to get him down and trample and rend him to pieces.  

As the muttering of a storm came here and there, broken disjointed words of hate and menace while those dancing kept up their wild antics in front of them.  

All at once a great cry―  

A yell  of fury broke from them― 

A spy! 

A traitor! 

An enemy has got amongst us! 

It is one of the accursed brothers from above come here to spy on us and carry away our victims. 

Down on him! 

Stamp on him! 

Crush him to death! 

Tear him to pieces! 

Hurl him into the vaults below! 

Away with him! 

Away! 

Away!

Like as an avalanche swept down the mountain side they rushed on them―raging fiends―  

And Spirit Franchezzo thought they were done for.  

He regreted that he had been drawn into entering the place at all. 

He thought he was lost, but just as the nearest was actually on them, the wall behind opened and Faithful Friend and another spirit drew them through, the wall closing again so suddenly that the yelling crowd scarce realised how they have disappeared.