Beautiful Rienzi; or, The Secret Vendetta — page 134: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

BEAUTIFUL RIENZI. 127 of air disturbed me; yet my ears began to beat and strain themselves to catch some movement, and they seemed to enlarge until my nervous system was one immense tympa- num. It came like the fall of gossamer—a murky shadow, noth- ing more, and it grew toward the middle of my silent chamber. A gentle rush of a new atmosphere enveloped me, which told me that my door was open. But how could human hand have opened it and make no noise? My mind reasoned distinctly, and my body lay ina torpor of horror. It came on, slowly, patiently, impalpably as an evening shadow creeping over sunny grass; it stole with a foot which might step on the golden lilies without bending their pensile stems, closer, closer; it loomed like a column of smoke be- fore me, and stopped beside my bed. What horror! I lay defenseless—my heart ceased to beat _—I closed my eyes for the assassin’s blow. It came not, the stifling terror lifted, and I dared to look again. The warning lunar ray shone upon the face of a woman standing beside my table, with a long, colorless flask in her hand, which flashed lke a bar of crystal. A tumbler of water, thinly diluted with sour wine, stood on the table; my night drink. It was an Italian custom, which the sultry nights now coming in caused me to resume. She raised the tumbler in her other hand, and poured from the flask into it a hair-like stream of liquid which fell soundless, then slipped the vial into her bosom, and bend- ing low, replaced the tumbler on the marble table, where the liquid it contained writhed and foamed into white for some moments. When the hissing sound was over she lifted her face to the shadowy sky, and the dreadful features stamped themselves into my heart; a face beautiful and vengeful, whitened and corpse-like with passion’s scorching flame. A face to remember. ‘My oath is fulfilled!” she said, in words without a voice. Had she spoken? or had the words passed from her soul to mine? She loomed once more toward me between me and the light, a vapor gray and deadly. She swooped close, and shot that terrible face into mine; I felt the lurid eyes fixed upon me—all feeling left the surface of my skin—I felt no comichooks (eo)