The very echoes in this deserted hall seemed startled and amazed as they
repeated and multiplied the unwonted sound of footsteps.
A door near the head of the first flight of stairs opened into what had
evidently been the great banqueting hall in the old days when sumptuous
repasts and numerous guests were not uncommon things in the chateau. A
huge beam divided the lofty ceiling into two compartments, which were
crossed at regular intervals by smaller joists, richly carved, and
retaining some traces of gilding. The spaces between had been originally
of a deep blue tint, almost lost now under the thick coating of dust and
spiders' webs that no housemaid's mop ever invaded. Above the grand old
chimney-piece was a noble stag's head, with huge, spreading antlers, and
on the walls hung rows of ancient family portraits, so faded and mouldy
now that most of the faces had a ghastly hue, and at night, by the dim,
flickering lamp-light, they looked like a company of spectres. Nothing
in the world is sadder than a collection of old portraits hanging
thus, neglected and forgotten, in deserted halls--representations, half
obliterated themselves, of forms and faces long since returned to dust.
Yet these painted phantoms were most appropriate inhabitants of this
desolate abode; real living people would have seemed out of place in the
death-stricken house.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25