Nightmare Tales, Page 2

  THE CAVE OF THE ECHOES

  A STRANGE BUT TRUE STORY[2]

  [2] This story is given from the narrative of an eye-witness, a Russian gentleman, very pious, and fully trustworthy. Moreover, the facts are copied from the police records of P----. The eyewitness in question attributes it, of course, partly to divine interference and partly to the Evil One.--H. P. B.

  In one of the distant governments of the Russian empire, in a smalltown on the borders of Siberia, a mysterious tragedy occurred morethan thirty years ago. About six versts from the little town of P----,famous for the wild beauty of its scenery, and for the wealth of itsinhabitants--generally proprietors of mines and of iron foundries--stoodan aristocratic mansion. Its household consisted of the master, a richold bachelor and his brother, who was a widower and the father oftwo sons and three daughters. It was known that the proprietor, Mr.Izvertzoff, had adopted his brother's children, and, having formed anespecial attachment for his eldest nephew, Nicolas, he had made him thesole heir of his numerous estates.

  Time rolled on. The uncle was getting old, the nephew was coming ofage. Days and years had passed in monotonous serenity, when, on thehitherto clear horizon of the quiet family, appeared a cloud. On anunlucky day one of the nieces took it into her head to study thezither. The instrument being of purely Teutonic origin, and no teacherof it residing in the neighborhood, the indulgent uncle sent to St.Petersburg for both. After diligent search only one Professor could befound willing to trust himself in such close proximity to Siberia. Itwas an old German artist, who, sharing his affections equally betweenhis instrument and a pretty blonde daughter, would part with neither.And thus it came to pass that one fine morning the old Professorarrived at the mansion, with his music box under one arm and his fairMunchen leaning on the other.

  From that day the little cloud began growing rapidly; for everyvibration of the melodious instrument found a responsive echo in theold bachelor's heart. Music awakens love, they say, and the work begunby the zither was completed by Munchen's blue eyes. At the expirationof six months the niece had become an expert zither player, and theuncle was desperately in love.

  One morning, gathering his adopted family around him, he embraced themall very tenderly, promised to remember them in his will, and wound upby declaring his unalterable resolution to marry the blue-eyed Munchen.After this he fell upon their necks and wept in silent rapture. Thefamily, understanding that they were cheated out of the inheritance,also wept; but it was for another cause. Having thus wept, theyconsoled themselves and tried to rejoice, for the old gentleman wassincerely beloved by all. Not all of them rejoiced, though. Nicolas,who had himself been smitten to the heart by the pretty German, andwho found himself defrauded at once of his belle and of his uncle'smoney, neither rejoiced nor consoled himself, but disappeared for awhole day.

  Meanwhile, Mr. Izvertzoff had given orders to prepare his travelingcarriage on the following day, and it was whispered that he was goingto the chief town of the district, at some distance from his home,with the intention of altering his will. Though very wealthy, he hadno superintendent on his estate, but kept his books himself. The sameevening after supper, he was heard in his room, angrily scolding hisservant, who had been in his service for over thirty years. This man,Ivan, was a native of northern Asia, from Kamschatka; he had beenbrought up by the family in the Christian religion, and was thought tobe very much attached to his master. A few days later, when the firsttragic circumstance I am about to relate had brought all the policeforce to the spot, it was remembered that on that night Ivan was drunk;that his master, who had a horror of this vice had paternally thrashedhim, and turned him out of his room, and that Ivan had been seenreeling out of the door, and had been heard to mutter threats.

  On the vast domain of Mr. Izvertzoff there was a curious cavern, whichexcited the curiosity of all who visited it. It exists to this day, andis well known to every inhabitant of P----. A pine forest, commencinga few feet from the garden gate, climbs in steep terraces up a longrange of rocky hills, which it covers with a broad belt of impenetrablevegetation. The grotto leading into the cavern, which is known as the"Cave of the Echoes," is situated about half a mile from the siteof the mansion, from which it appears as a small excavation in thehill-side, almost hidden by luxuriant plants, but not so completelyas to prevent any person entering it from being readily seen from theterrace in front of the house. Entering the Grotto, the explorer findsat the rear a narrow cleft; having passed through which he emerges intoa lofty cavern, feebly lighted through fissures in the vaulted roof,fifty feet from the ground. The cavern itself is immense, and wouldeasily hold between two and three thousand people. A part of it, in thedays of Mr. Izvertzoff, was paved with flagstones, and was often usedin the summer as a ball-room by picnic parties. Of an irregular oval,it gradually narrows into a broad corridor, which runs for severalmiles underground, opening here and there into other chambers, as largeand lofty as the ball-room, but, unlike this, impassable otherwise thanin a boat, as they are always full of water. These natural basins havethe reputation of being unfathomable.

  On the margin of the first of these is a small platform, with severalmossy rustic seats arranged on it, and it is from this spot that thephenomenal echoes, which give the cavern its name, are heard in alltheir weirdness. A word pronounced in a whisper, or even a sigh, iscaught up by endless mocking voices, and instead of diminishing involume, as honest echoes do, the sound grows louder and louder atevery successive repetition, until at last it bursts forth like therepercussion of a pistol shot, and recedes in a plaintive wail down thecorridor.

  On the day in question, Mr. Izvertzoff had mentioned his intention ofhaving a dancing party in this cave on his wedding day, which he hadfixed for an early date. On the following morning, while preparing forhis drive, he was seen by his family entering the grotto, accompaniedonly by his Siberian servant. Half-an-hour later, Ivan returned to themansion for a snuff-box, which his master had forgotten in his room,and went back with it to the cave. An hour later the whole house wasstartled by his loud cries. Pale and dripping with water, Ivan rushedin like a madman, and declared that Mr. Izvertzoff was nowhere to befound in the cave. Thinking he had fallen into the lake, he had divedinto the first basin in search of him and was nearly drowned himself.

  The day passed in vain attempts to find the body. The police filled thehouse, and louder than the rest in his despair was Nicolas, the nephew,who had returned home only to meet the sad tidings.

  A dark suspicion fell upon Ivan, the Siberian. He had been struck byhis master the night before, and had been heard to swear revenge. Hehad accompanied him alone to the cave, and when his room was searched,a box full of rich family jewelry, known to have been carefully keptin Mr. Izvertzoff's apartment, was found under Ivan's bedding. Vainlydid the serf call God to witness that the box had been given to himin charge by his master himself, just before they proceeded to thecave; that it was the latter's purpose to have the jewelry reset, ashe intended it for a wedding present to his bride; and that he, Ivan,would willingly give his own life to recall that of his master, ifhe knew him to be dead. No heed was paid to him, however, and he wasarrested and thrown into prison upon a charge of murder. There he wasleft, for under the Russian law a criminal cannot--at any rate, he couldnot in those days--be sentenced for a crime, however conclusive thecircumstantial evidence, unless he confessed his guilt.

  After a week had passed in useless search, the family arrayedthemselves in deep mourning; and, as the will as originally drawnremained without a codicil, the whole of the property passed into thehands of the nephew. The old teacher and his daughter bore this suddenreverse of fortune with true Germanic phlegm, and prepared to depart.Taking again his zither under one arm, the old man was about to leadaway his Munchen by the other, when the nephew stopped him by offeringhimself as the fair damsel's husband in the place of his departeduncle. The change was found to be an agreeable one, and, without muchado, the young people were married.


  * * * * *

  Ten years rolled away, and we meet the happy family once more at thebeginning of 1859. The fair Munchen had grown fat and vulgar. Fromthe day of the old man's disappearance, Nicolas had become morose andretired in his habits, and many wondered at the change in him, for nowhe was never seen to smile. It seemed as if his only aim in life wereto find out his uncle's murderer, or rather to bring Ivan to confesshis guilt. But the man still persisted that he was innocent.

  An only son had been born to the young couple, and a strange childit was. Small, delicate, and ever ailing, his frail life seemed tohang by a thread. When his features were in repose, his resemblanceto his uncle was so striking that the members of the family oftenshrank from him in terror. It was the pale shriveled face of a manof sixty upon the shoulders of a child nine years old. He was neverseen either to laugh or to play, but, perched in his high chair, wouldgravely sit there, folding his arms in a way peculiar to the late Mr.Izvertzoff; and thus he would remain for hours, drowsy and motionless.His nurses were often seen furtively crossing themselves at night, uponapproaching him, and not one of them would consent to sleep alone withhim in the nursery. His father's behavior towards him was still morestrange. He seemed to love him passionately, and at the same time tohate him bitterly. He seldom embraced or caressed the child, but, withlivid cheek and staring eye, he would pass long hours watching him, asthe child sat quietly in his corner, in his goblin-like, old-fashionedway.

  The child had never left the estate, and few outside the family knew ofhis existence.

  About the middle of July, a tall Hungarian traveler, preceded by agreat reputation for eccentricity, wealth and mysterious powers,arrived at the town of P---- from the North, where, it was said, he hadresided for many years. He settled in the little town, in companywith a Shaman or South Siberian magician, on whom he was said to makemesmeric experiments. He gave dinners and parties, and invariablyexhibited his Shaman, of whom he felt very proud, for the amusement ofhis guests. One day the notables of P---- made an unexpected invasion ofthe domains of Nicolas Izvertzoff, and requested the loan of his cavefor an evening entertainment. Nicolas consented with great reluctance,and only after still greater hesitancy was he prevailed upon to jointhe party.

  The first cavern and the platform beside the bottomless lake glitteredwith lights. Hundreds of flickering candles and torches, stuck inthe clefts of the rocks, illuminated the place and drove the shadowsfrom the mossy nooks and corners, where they had crouched undisturbedfor many years. The stalactites on the walls sparkled brightly, andthe sleeping echoes were suddenly awakened by a joyous confusion oflaughter and conversation. The Shaman, who was never lost sight of byhis friend and patron, sat in a corner, entranced as usual. Crouchedon a projecting rock, about midway between the entrance and the water,with his lemon-yellow, wrinkled face, flat nose, and thin beard, helooked more like an ugly stone idol than a human being. Many of thecompany pressed around him and received correct answers to theirquestions, the Hungarian cheerfully submitting his mesmerized "subject"to cross-examination.

  Suddenly one of the party, a lady, remarked that it was in that verycave that old Mr. Izvertzoff had so unaccountably disappeared ten yearsbefore. The foreigner appeared interested, and desired to learn more ofthe circumstances, so Nicolas was sought amid the crowd and led beforethe eager group. He was the host and he found it impossible to refusethe demanded narrative. He repeated the sad tale in a trembling voice,with a pallid cheek, and tears were seen glittering in his feverisheyes. The company were greatly affected, and encomiums upon thebehavior of the loving nephew in honoring the memory of his uncle andbenefactor were freely circulating in whispers, when suddenly the voiceof Nicolas became choked, his eyes started from their sockets, and witha suppressed groan, he staggered back. Every eye in the crowd followedwith curiosity his haggard look, as it fell and remained riveted upon aweazened little face, that peeped from behind the back of the Hungarian.

  "Where do you come from? Who brought you here, child?" gasped outNicolas, as pale as death.

  "I was in bed, papa; this man came to me, and brought me here in hisarms," answered the boy simply, pointing to the Shaman, beside whomhe stood upon the rock, and who, with his eyes closed, kept swayinghimself to and fro like a living pendulum.

  "That is very strange," remarked one of the guests, "for the man hasnever moved from his place."

  "Good God! what an extraordinary resemblance!" muttered an old residentof the town, a friend of the lost man.

  "You lie, child!" fiercely exclaimed the father. "Go to bed; this is noplace for you."

  "Come, come," interposed the Hungarian, with a strange expression onhis face, and encircling with his arm the slender childish figure; "thelittle fellow has seen the double of my Shaman, which roams sometimesfar away from his body, and has mistaken the phantom for the manhimself. Let him remain with us for a while."

  At these strange words the guests stared at each other in mutesurprise, while some piously made the sign of the cross, spittingaside, presumably at the devil and all his works.

  "By-the-bye," continued the Hungarian with a peculiar firmness ofaccent, and addressing the company rather than any one in particular;"why should we not try, with the help of my Shaman, to unravel themystery hanging over the tragedy? Is the suspected party still lyingin prison? What? he has not confessed up to now? This is surely verystrange. But now we will learn the truth in a few minutes! Let all keepsilent!"

  He then approached the Tehuktchene, and immediately began hisperformance without so much as asking the consent of the master ofthe place. The latter stood rooted to the spot, as if petrified withhorror, and unable to articulate a word. The suggestion met withgeneral approbation, save from him; and the police inspector, Col. S----,especially approved of the idea.

  "Ladies and gentlemen," said the mesmerizer in soft tones, "allowme for this once to proceed otherwise than in my general fashion. Iwill employ the method of native magic. It is more appropriate to thiswild place, and far more effective as you will find, than our Europeanmethod of mesmerization."

  Without waiting for an answer, he drew from a bag that never left hisperson, first a small drum, and then two little phials--one full offluid, the other empty. With the contents of the former he sprinkledthe Shaman, who fell to trembling and nodding more violently than ever.The air was filled with the perfume of spicy odors, and the atmosphereitself seemed to become clearer. Then, to the horror of those present,he approached the Tibetan, and taking a miniature stiletto from hispocket, he plunged the sharp steel into the man's forearm, and drewblood from it, which he caught in the empty phial. When it was halffilled, he pressed the orifice of the wound with his thumb, and stoppedthe flow of blood as easily as if he had corked a bottle, after whichhe sprinkled the blood over the little boy's head. He then suspendedthe drum from his neck, and, with two ivory drum-sticks, which werecovered with magic signs and letters, he began beating a sort of_reveille_, to drum up the spirits, as he said.

  The bystanders, half-shocked and half-terrified by these extraordinaryproceedings, eagerly crowded round him, and for a few moments a deadsilence reigned throughout the lofty cavern. Nicolas, with his facelivid and corpse-like, stood speechless as before. The mesmerizer hadplaced himself between the Shaman and the platform, when he beganslowly drumming. The first notes were muffled, and vibrated so softlyin the air that they awakened no echo, but the Shaman quickened hispendulum-like motion and the child became restless. The drummer thenbegan a slow chant, low, impressive and solemn.

  As the unknown words issued from his lips, the flames of the candlesand torches wavered and flickered, until they began dancing in rhythmwith the chant. A cold wind came wheezing from the dark corridorsbeyond the water, leaving a plaintive echo in its trail. Then a sortof nebulous vapor, seeming to ooze from the rocky ground and walls,gathered about the Shaman and the boy. Around the latter the aura wassilvery and transparent, but the cloud which enveloped the former wasred and sinister. Appro
aching nearer to the platform the magician beata louder roll upon the drum, and this time the echo caught it up withterrific effect! It reverberated near and far in incessant peals; onewail followed another, louder and louder, until the thundering roarseemed the chorus of a thousand demon voices rising from the fathomlessdepths of the lake. The water itself, whose surface, illuminated bymany lights, had previously been smooth as a sheet of glass, becamesuddenly agitated, as if a powerful gust of wind had swept over itsunruffled face.

  Another chant, and a roll of the drum, and the mountain trembled to itsfoundation with the cannon-like peals which rolled through the darkand distant corridors. The Shaman's body rose two yards in the air,and nodding and swaying, sat, self-suspended like an apparition. Butthe transformation which now occurred in the boy chilled everyone, asthey speechlessly watched the scene. The silvery cloud about the boynow seemed to lift him, too, into the air; but, unlike the Shaman, hisfeet never left the ground. The child began to grow, as though the workof years was miraculously accomplished in a few seconds. He becametall and large, and his senile features grew older with the ageingof his body. A few more seconds, and the youthful form had entirelydisappeared. It was totally absorbed in another individuality, and tothe horror of those present who had been familiar with his appearance,this individuality was that of old Mr. Izvertzoff, and on his templewas a large gaping wound, from which trickled great drops of blood.

  This phantom moved towards Nicolas, till it stood directly in frontof him, while he, with his hair standing erect, with the look of amadman gazed at his own son, transformed into his uncle. The sepulchralsilence was broken by the Hungarian, who, addressing the child phantom,asked him in solemn voice:

  "In the name of the great Master, of him who has all power, answer thetruth, and nothing but the truth. Restless spirit, hast thou been lostby accident, or foully murdered?"

  The specter's lips moved, but it was the echo which answered for themin lugubrious shouts: "Murdered! murdered!! mur-der-ed!!!"

  "Where? How? By whom?" asked the conjuror.

  The apparition pointed a finger at Nicolas and, without removing itsgaze or lowering its arm, retreated backwards slowly towards the lake.At every step it took, the younger Izvertzoff, as if compelled by someirresistible fascination, advanced a step towards it, until the phantomreached the lake, and the next moment was seen gliding on its surface.It was a fearful, ghostly scene!

  When he had come within two steps of the brink of the watery abyss, aviolent convulsion ran through the frame of the guilty man. Flinginghimself upon his knees, he clung to one of the rustic seats with adesperate clutch, and staring wildly, uttered a long piercing cry ofagony. The phantom now remained motionless on the water, and bendingits extended finger, slowly beckoned him to come. Crouched in abjectterror, the wretched man shrieked until the cavern rang again andagain: "I did not.... No, I did not murder you!"

  Then came a splash, and now it was the boy who was in the dark water,struggling for his life, in the middle of the lake, with the samemotionless stern apparition brooding over him.

  "Papa! papa! Save me.... I am drowning!" ... cried a piteous littlevoice amid the uproar of the mocking echoes.

  "My boy!" shrieked Nicolas, in the accents of a maniac, springing tohis feet. "My boy! Save him! Oh, save him!... Yes, I confess.... I amthe murderer.... It is I who killed him!"

  Another splash, and the phantom disappeared. With a cry of horror thecompany rushed towards the platform; but their feet were suddenlyrooted to the ground, as they saw amid the swirling eddies a whitishshapeless mass holding the murderer and the boy in tight embrace, andslowly sinking into the bottomless lake.

  On the morning after these occurrences, when, after a sleepless night,some of the party visited the residence of the Hungarian gentleman,they found it closed and deserted. He and the Shaman had disappeared.Many are among the old inhabitants of P---- who remember him; the PoliceInspector, Col. S----, dying a few years ago in the full assurance thatthe noble traveler was the devil. To add to the general consternationthe Izvertzoff mansion took fire on that same night and was completelydestroyed. The Archbishop performed the ceremony of exorcism, butthe locality is considered accursed to this day. The Governmentinvestigated the facts, and--ordered silence.