David Henry Keller

“ Only those near the door had their human flies in the trap. In the opposite direction the rows of pillars stretched into a far oblivion. I thought that at the end there was the black mouth of a tunnel, but I could not be sure and dared not go that far to explore the truth. Then, out of that tunnel, I heard a voice come, a singing voice. Slipping my shoes off, I ran back near the door and hid as best I could in a dark recess, back of a far piece of stone. I stood there in the darkness, my torch out, the handle of the revolver in my hand. ”

“ And that told me a good many things, as it was the hand that had rested against the upper hinge of the door. I washed the hand, changed my clothes and drove my car to Sorona.
Fortunately, the Donna Marchesi was at home. I might have met her before, but I now saw her ethereal beauty for the first time. A least, it seemed ethereal at the first moment. In some ways she was the most beautiful woman that I had ever seen: skin white as milk, hair a tawny red, piled in great masses on her head, and eyes of a peculiar green, with pupils that "were slots instead of circles. ”

“ By the way, may I change my mind and ask for the key to the door in the cellar?"
"Do you want it, really want it, my friend?"
"I am sure I do. I may never use it, but it will please me to have it. Little things in life make me happy, and this key is a little thing."
"Then you shall have it. Will you do me a favor? Wait till Sunday to use it. Today is Friday, and you will not have to wait many hours."
"It will be a pleasure to do as you desire," I replied, kissing her hand. "And shall I hear you sing again? May I come often to hear you sing?" ”

“ But they come and go. I am old and forget."
"And all these masters, none of them ever wrote on the walls?"
"Of a certainty. All wrote with pencil what they desired to write. Who should say they should not? For did not the villa belong to them while they were here? But always we prepared for the new master, and made the walls clean and beautiful again."
"You were always sure that there would be a new master?"
"Certainly. Someone must pay us our wages."
I gravely placed a gold piece in his itching palm, asking, "What did they write on the walls?" ”

“ I feel that in some way our fates approach the same star."
I looked into her eyes, her yellow cat-eyes, and I was sure that she spoke the truth. Destiny had certainly brought me to find her in Sorona.
I bought two dozen rat-tailed files, and dashed across the mountains to Milan. There I was closeted with the consuls of three nations: England, France and my own. They did not want to believe my story. I gave them names, and they had to admit that there had been inquiries, but they felt that the main details were nightmares, resulting from an over-use of Italian wines. ”

“ And she must have die key. But we could file the links if only we had files. If only each of us had a file, we could get free, Perhaps the man upstairs has a key, but I hardly think so."
"Did you write on that pretty wall upstairs, the whitewashed wall?"
"I did; I think we all did. One man wrote a sonnet to the woman, verses in her honor, telling about her beautiful eyes. He raved about that poem for hours while he was dying. Did you ever see it on the wall?"
"I did not see it. The old people whitewash the walls before each new master comes." ”

“ She feeds us and sings to us and we applaud. When one of us dies, she unchains the body, and throws it down a hole somewhere. She talks to us about that hole sometimes and brags that she is going to fill it up before she stops. ”

“ Stretching myself, I gave one look at my car and then walked into the house.
In the kitchen two peasants sat, an old man and an old woman. They rose as I entered.
"Who are you?" I asked in English.
They simply smiled and waved their hands. I repeated my question in Italian.
"We serve," the man replied. ”

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