No answer.I called again-"Fortunato!"
No answer still.I thrust a torch through the remaining aperture and let it fall within.There came forth in return only a jingling of the bells.My heart grew sick-it was the dampness of the catacombs that made it so.I hastened to make an end of my labour.I forced the last stone into its position;I plastered it up.Against the new masonry I reerected the old rampart of bones.For the half of a century no mortal has disturbed them.In pace requiescat!