[COPYRIGHT STORY.] The Princess of the Balcony

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 12, 23 March 1907, Page 28

[COPYRIGHT STORY.] The Princess of the Balcony

By

C. N. & A. M. WILLIAMSON,

I, Author of “The Lightning Conductor," Etc.

aS. JACK HOLSTEAD elimbed the rock path that lay like a thread along the faee of the mountain, on the way to Ravello, he said to

himself that this looked like a place where “anything might happen.” It was like the dream-world of a fairy book, this romantic region he found himself entering. A deep ravine broke the cliff coast line of the Lucanian Sea like a gash, and plunged inwards among the mountains. Presently it broadened into

a deep valley, and high on a projecting buttress of rock stood the ruins of an enormous basilica. It struck a solemn note of decay, that gigantic building, telling by its vastness of a time when a busy people filled with eager, animated life this silent valley, crowded its great towns, shrunken now to crumbling villages. When at length Ravello stood revealed, the sense of desolation became almost oppressive. Could it be that someone lived in the ancient ruin, Holstead wondered; and even as he asked himself the question, it was answered. A kVg balcony, with a deeply yellowed balustrade of marble, ran beneath two of the windows towards which he looked, and save that the balusters were chipped and broken here and there, it seemed to be intact. Like a flash of light in darkness, came a gleam of white in one of th? windows, and the figure of a girl stepped from the gloom within out into the glory of the sunset. Unaware of a stranger’s presence near, she stood shading her eyes, and looking out over mountain and sea with a wide, sail gaze. Such beauty as hers had a right to happiness, and in that moment Holstead felt that the world would be a new world for him, a world of poetry and romance, if he could serve the dream-princess in some knightly way, banishing the trouble —whatever it might be—that clouded her eyes, and made the red lips droop. Thrilled with the fancy as if she had called him, he made a step forward. A stone rolled under his foot; the girl started; her glance dropped, and encountered the very honest, the 'very openly admiring brown eyes of a handsome young man. i

The hand that had shaded her eyes fell, and rested, with a slight tremor running through it, on tha ancient yellow marble of the balustrade. So, for a long moment, the two stood, silent, motionless. Th<n*a deep blush burned suddenly in the girl’s cheek, and spread in a reddenning tide to neck and temples. Her dark eyes flashed out a look, proud, yet with no anger in it; she seemed to wish to go, yet to lack the power of movement; but at last, wrenching her eyes from his, she turned swiftly and was swallowed up in the dark spaces of the great room. Holstead's pulses were in riot. He drew his breath quickly, and had to force himself to turn away. Then, unconscious of time, he lingered near until the valley Was tilled with purple shadow;. But the girl did not reappear; there was no sign of life in tin- vast, grey, silent building. .Suddenly, just as he was on the point of moving away, he became aware of a tall, flitting figure, black in the falling dusk of evening. It hovered near, as if to observe him, and noticing this, Holstead looked no more at the palace windows, but began again to tramp up the deserted vecchia. Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw that the black figtire followed; and as it camo nearer he judged that it must be that of a priest, for it was draped in one long garment, {resembling a cassock. But it never

came near enough for him to decide with certainty, always hovering, always appearing to watch unobtrusively. Holstead could not understand why his advent should be of enough importance to any person in Ravello to supply a motive for surveillance, yet he took a firmer grip of his iron pointed stick—so strange an impression of malignity and evil did this noiseless figure make upon his imagination. At last, as if to prove that he was not a spy, but had business of his own, the man in blaek passed Holstead hurriedly, and then almost immediately disappeared. The "season” at Ravello would not begin for another month or two, and Holstead dined alone in the quaint din-ing-room, with a chapel at the farther end. Here the landlady came to him at his request; and among many questions about the past and present of the wonderful old place, he contrived to bring in some about the vision of the balcony, without making them too conspicuous. Somehow, lie was not surprised to learn that his “princess” was a princess indeed—for, had she been less, it would have made a jarring note in the strange romance of her surroundings. She was the Princess Immaeulata della Marra, the last of her line—one of those great families which, as long ago as the fourteenth century, had made Ravello famous. She was nineteen, and absolutely alone in the world since the death of her mother, seven years ago. She bad no other home than the ruinous palace; no companion, no servant save the old woman who bad once been her nurse; as for money, barely enough for the meagre support of two, and the poor charities for which she was willing to sacrifice the few 7 small luxuries that might have been hers. So she lived, a Princess among the peasants, sharing their life, scarcely better housed or fed than they, yet happy because she loved all and was loved by all. “But many men must have wished to marry her, and take her away from a life so unsuitable,” Holstead began. The landlady shrugged her shoulders, with a faint smile. "Without a dowry? No Italians of rank will marry a penniless girl, be she beautiful as Venus. Yet there is one man here—who has dared, taking advantage of her loneliness and weakness‘” Madame Piancastelli drew a little nearer and sank her voice. “There is a man here in Ravello, sir, who is an extraordinary person. He came suddenly one day about two years ago from no one knew where, and took up his quarters in part of the old d’Atllitto palaee. Don Paolo be is called, though who knows whether he really has a right to be more than simple ‘Signore’!” A sudden inspiration came to Holstead. “Docs this man wear a long black robe or cloak?” he quickly asked. Yes, that was he, certainly, Madame assented. A black robe of velvet, usually, with a silver girdle, worn no doubt, to impress the peasants, whom he duped also, it was said. Rumour had it that he was rich, yet he lived meanly. It was whispered that he was fleeing from justice. He had a laboratory 7, in which he experimented with drugs. He told fortunes, too, and had acquired an ascendency over the minds of the people. Denounced by the priests (for he never went to church) he was nevertheless the first to lie consulted by 7 many of the villagers in their difficulties. He prepared

seed which, scattered upon the ground, would produce a good harvest even on bad soil; he sold amulets to avert the evil eye; he compounded medicine for cattle; love philtres for girls; an elixir which would keep the old young. Worse still—Madame Piancastelli spoke in a thrilling whisper—he was said to be a dealer in subtle poisons.

And it was this man who had dared to propose for the hand of the Princess Immaeulata! He claimed to be of noble birth, a distant relative of the Afflitti, who permitted him to live in their ruined palace; nevertheless it was horrible even to think of that blaek, evil hawk, and the white dove, Immaeulata, together. The princess had not tolerated him for an instant, of course, after she knew his wishes, though she had been gentle and kind at first, as she was kind to everybody. But, according to old Assunta, the girl’s nurse, he had frightened the poor child with, veiled hints that she would regret her decision, and vengeance of some appalling, mysterious kind, should sho ever dare to think of marrying another man. This he might or might not have been guilty of, but in any ease a marriage of the Princess Immaeulata was the most unlikely thing in the world. Men did not come to Ravello to look for a bride.

Holstead fancied he knew of one who, at least, after a faee he had seen in Ravello, would be loth to look elsewhere, since no other could ever be. as fair. Bnt he said nothing and only thought the more. Would it be possible, during his short visit, to make the Princess Innnaculata’s acquaintance, even to win her friendship? He hardly 7 dared think of more, and as he asked himself the question be saw a thousand difficulties in the way.

For the next few days he loitered about the village, pretending to sketch. Twice only was he rewarded with a sight of his goddess. Once she appeared again on the balcony, where he had first seen her. As soon as she caught sight of the young Englishman she turned away 7 her head, lingered a moment, then went in again, and showed herself no more.

Next day, as Holstead was strolling along the path that runs under the ancient city 7 walls, he suddenly saw the Princess approaching him. OH Assunta followed, carrying a basket of simple dainties for some sick woman. Even if the Princess would, she could not avoid a meeting in that narrow way. The Englishman’s heart beat fast, and when she was close to him he drew aside, hat in hand, to let her pass. She was within a yard of him; the rustle of her dress shook out an exquisite perfume; her eyes met his as she inclined her head with a courteous gesture. Perhaps there was that in his eyes which he would cheerfully have said with his lips, for a deep blush spread over the Princess’s cheek. She went her way, and Holstead, looking after her, caught

the keen glanee of Assunta. It seemed to express many things—approval, trust, encouragement—and he felt himself heartened; it was good to have even this old woman as a well-wisher.

He stood until a turn in the path hid

the Princess from him. Then, raising his eyes, he saw at a small window above something that struck like a chill into his excited, pulsing blood. A man was looking down upon him, a man dressed all in blaek, with a lined, sallow faee, from which fierce eyes shot hatred. In an instant Holstead knew Don Paolo, and remembered that this was a part of the d’Atllitto palace. Reading in his look jealousy, anger, and vindictiveness, he flung back defiance and contempt. There was war between Don Paolo and the Honourable Jack Holstead.

Five days had passed of the week which Holstead had allowed himself, and in two days more he was due in Naples, unless he ehanged his plans. Yet nothing had happened. He had tried in many ways to. meet the Princess without offending her or les convenances, but had not succeeded. In a fever of restlessness after a bitter disappointment one afternoon he had set out to ascend Monte Cerreto, vaguely hoping that, in the splendid solitude of the mountains, inspiration might come to him, telling him how to strike out a triumphant yet reasonable course of action.

It was nearly night when he eame down again, with several more or less brilliant schemes in his mind, and. just as he had reached the head of a lonely valley on the outskirts of Ravello, a curious sound broke the dead silence, jarring upon his ear—a sound like the striking of metal on stone.

This, at such an hour, ar*l in such a place, was surprising. Holstead walked on, peering through the gloom, until, passing out from behind a huge boulder, he came upon a sight so strange that he stopped abruptly, and stood still to wateh. ;

Stooping in the bed of a small watercourse, was a dark form, digging; Holstead, hidden by the boulder, saw that the course of the stream had been! diverted by pieces of planking and a. dam of elay. The mysterious worker was excavating a hole in the h d of th <5 stream, now nearly dry. 'Then he half rose, stooped again, lifted something heavy; and there came to the ears of the astonished watcher the chink of gold. Next the worker rapidly threw, back into the hole the loose earth, the pieces firm and smooth; and removed! the dam and the guiding planks so that the stream rushed again into its accustomed bed. As he rose to his full hiight, Holstead recognised with astonishment the (ithtette figure of Don

*»«]«. Gathering up the planks, the pickaxe mid the empty bag that had held the gold, he strode with them to . a stunted tree, dug a shallow hole, in -which he buried them, and with a pwift glance around, strode away in the direction of the village. As soon as he was out of earshot Holstead went direct to the tree, and with his pocket knife cut a cross deeply into the bark. With the story of Don Paolo’s - ini suiting declaration of love for the Princess, and his threats against her, burning in his mind, everything that the "conjuror” did assumed a curious interest for the Englishman. His imagination was ready to see in any unexplained, mysterious act, a plot against the lonely, unprotected girl; and though, . in the present instance, he eould not comprehend how Don Paolo’s burying of the gold eould concern her, nevertheless he felt a liaunting uneasiness which he could not banish.

The most feasible explanation appeared to be that the man in blaek had hidden treasure dishonestly come by, perhaps, which he would dig up at a convenient season. What if he had stolen it from the Princess? Holstead asked himself; and his supposition took him back to the same spot on the following night, at a later hour. He waited for some time, and at length in his impatience was about to go away, when from far away came the sound of footsteps. He stood in dense shadow, but the tree with the cross, and the stream, were silvered, so that he was able to see several men approaching, in a huddled group, with one leading. This last was Paolo, erect, his tall body rigid, like a man hypnotized. In his right hand he held a polished brass rod, of which Holstead had heard that the magician’s “familiar spirit” was said to have his habitation therein. Pressing close upon the necromancer, watching each movement of the rod as it dipped and swayed in his hand, were three men. As they came up, the pioonlight touched their faces, and Holstead remembered that he had seen two of them before. The trio were •worthless loafers from Minori, a village below Ravello, by the sea. Up the side

of the stream; they earne. jostling each other in their eagerness; but at length Paolo stopped. His rod dipfssl three times. “It is here.” he said. Then, as if waking from a trance, he directed them to turn tlx* course of the stream. Two of the men carried planks and n pick, and quickly did the work; the third stroke with the piek laid bare the eache. With guttural cries of joy, the three would have fallen upon the gold: but Paolo bestrode it and thrust them baek.

“You see,” he said, “I have kept my word. I never lie. Of this treasure 1 shall give you each a hundred lire; the rest is mine. But to-morrow I will discover for you in the Palazzo Stefano the much larger treasure the existence of which my familiar has revealed to me. In that we shall all share equally. You already know the conditions, and what you must do in order that 1 may win it for you.” As he spoke. Paolo had been hastily stuffing the gold pieces into a bag he had brought with him, having first handed their shares to his open-mouthed dupes. This done, they undamimd the stream, and disappeared like shadows.

The next day should have been Holstead’s last in Ravello, but, having accomplished nothing, he made up his mind doggedly, that he would stay until he had. He would telegraph next morning to his father, Lord Dartmoor, at Naples, where the party would expect letters, saying that he was “unavoidably detained-.” The day of his delay passed in failure; he dined gloomily, his thoughts divided between Immaculate, and wondering what villainy Don Paolo would be up to in the Palazzo Stefano. The night was glorious, and he strolled out upon the terrace after dinner, his cigar making a point of yellow brightness in the moonlight. Suddenly, from below the terrace wall, a voice aspirated in a shrill whisper, the word “Signore!” He looked down, and saw the figure of a woman, which, with a thrill, he recognised to be that of Assunta, the Princess’s old nurse. To reach her he had to go through the hotel, as there was no other exit

from the terrace; but in three minutes he was by h.~r side. “Do not think strangely of me. Signore,” she implored in Italian, "for seeking you in such a way. and in secret. You are an Englishman ami you have looked with honourable admiration at my mistress; so 1 trust you to help me in my trouble, as J could trust no other man here. It is wisdom and courage that may be needed, perhaps; so I thought of you, and I ran here in haste.” “ Has anything happened to your mistress?” Holstead quickly asked. “Listen, Signore, and it is for you to say what you think, and what is to be done,” said the old woman. Then she poured out a strange story, hardly stopping to take breath. How she had been to an old friend in the upper part of the village as was her custom on this same evening, every week; how on her return to the Palazzo della Marra she had found the Princess gone. On the floor of the Princess’s room, however, she had picked up a note. Unfortunately she could not read, but she had brought it to th'e English gentleman. Holstead struck a wax vesta, and read the few lines on a crumpled slip of paper, by its flare. The mother of a certain Anita Strozzi prayed the Princess to come to her daughter, who was (lying. “It is a lie!” broke out Assunta. “1 heard only this morning that Anita is better. This is a plot—a trick of someone who wishes my sweet lady harm; and who in all the world wishes that but one?” “You mean the conjuror Paolo!” exclaimed Holstead. “Oh, Signore,” the old woman sobbed, “he is clever; he knows how to hide his tracks, yet I think I see his hand in this. Like the hawk that he is, he has wateed her since she refused to listen to him, and—and since your coining to Ravello, he has looked at her—oh, 1 dare not say how he has looked. Perhaps I should not say this to you; but 1 believe you have admired her very much; she has thought of you too, sometimes, Signore, as a lady may when she leads a sad and lonelv life with seldom a new interest.

And he has seen all—the arch fiend! Holy Maria, I eannot forget his threats 1 And now— she has disappeared.” “ Trust me to find her. and bring her safely Imek to you,” Holstead said earnestly. Ir I don't eon;.! with the Prines*;in an hour,go to the earabineri for hsfp.” Assunta seized his hand, kissed it. much to his embarrassment, and hurried away towards the Palazzo della .Marra. Holstead, without an instant's hesitation, ran lightly down the stony way to the Palazzo Stefano, one of the oldest and most noble ruins in the neighbourhood of Ravello. Lately it had been bought for a song by a rich archaeologist in Naples, who was having the Moorish court excavated. Already Holstead had explored the place, during the hours when the work of excavating was in progress; but he knew that the gate in the high wall which surrounded the old gardens was kej>t locked at night, since the work of restoration had been begun. Strange chilling suspicions flitted through his mind, and instinctively ho had fame here, to the place where the conjuror had appointed for a rendezvous with his dupes, for the solving of the mystery. He listened outside the tall, locked iron gate in the thick wall, but could hear nothing—not even an echo from the village in the distance, for Ravello goes early to bed. The gate was high, and had spikes at the top, but in a moment he had elimbed it. ami dropped down on the other side. To his surprise, a great key was in the lock, which looked as if someone employed about the place were not far away. Perhaps one of Paolo’s friends—but Holstead (ltd not stop to finish the thought. He unlocked the gate, in ease of future need, and put the big key into his pocket. Keeping in the deep shadow of the wall, he moved noiselessly past the cloisters to the steps leading down to the partially excavated Moorish Court, the oldest part of the Palazzo. Now, above the soft whispering of the wind among the tree branches, came the sound of game, but the thought of danger to hiinsubdued voices. Still cautiously Hotstead descended. He was playing a risky]

■elf did uot enter bin head. He had juet stepped behind an ancient, twisted pillar, when a spear of niuun»ig'r>t. pierced the Ilyin; wrack of cloud', revealing-the two men of Minori, who had accompanied the neer.-naneer in last night’s quest. ■ , ■ • ’ .

Don Paolo told me all about the last time be tried,” one of them was saying in an awed whisper. “ They made the incantation. when a stairease appeared there bn the right. It descended to a vault, where stood four statues of pure gold and ■heaps of precious stones, but before they could seize anything a tall man with a long beard issued forth and drove them away, saying in Hebrew that until they brought him a perfectly innocent soul they could touch nothing. Then he disappeared, a terrible serpent darted out, and .chased them away, while both stairs and treasure .vanished.” Thete was a pause as the two men seemed to catch their breath in superstitious terror. *■’ But it’ll be all right tonight,” the fellow went on, “and the treasure can scarcely be calculated, Don Paolo said. 'There’ll be a quarter for each of US B-S-ll.”

In his excitement Holstead leaned forward against the pillar which concealed him. To bis surprise, it seemed to give way a little. He glanced swiftly up. A glint of moonlight showed him a strange thing—that this pillar, in the course of centuries, bad become detached from its fellows by the disintegration of the mortar. It supported, indeed, on its capital, a part of the architrave; but threads of moonlight shining through the interstices of the stone showed that the pillar and its capital stood alone, and might be removed without imperilling the rest of the building.

At the instant this discovery made but a email impression on Holstead’s mind, for suddenly, from some side room, appeared Don Paolo and the third man, supporting between them a slight figure all in white. It was the Princess. Cords bound her wrists, and a gag. cruelly thrust into her mouth, hid the lower part of her face, but her groat eyes shone forth like stars. Holstead’s heart gave a wild throb. The impulse was strong upon him to leap out and snatch the girl from the sacrilegious hands that dared to hold her ; bitt lie cheeked himself. There must be no fa'ilure of his plans. He was one unarmed man against four ruffians with knives. He waited ami watched, tingling—in every nerve.

Don Paolo’s eyes were looking into the Princess’s with a hateful malice. "They seemed to say, “ You scorned me once; see what has come of it ; are you not afraid? ” But she glanced past him to a curioiis tint stone in the centre of the court.

Towards this they pushed her; the others drew hesitatingly nearer. Paolo produced a roll of parchment, from which lie liegan to lead in a low', sonorous voice. It was an invocation of the Power of Evil, so blasphemous, so terrible, that the peasants trembled ar/ the Princess made a pathetic gesture with her bound hands, as if she would stop her ears to shut out the awful words. As Pablo read on he suddenly drew froni'nnder his robe a long, gleaming knife, which lie handCtl to the. man nearest.'

Then' the full horror of the scene he was witnessing broke with a' shock into Holstead’s consciousness; Hb realised in a flash that the Princess was. even at that instant, in deadly peril; that Don Paolo had so roused the avarice of his dupes that they were ready to go to the length of murder; he understood now the awful meaning'of the reference to an “ innocent soul " that must lie sacrificed to propitiate the infernal powers. He was witnessing <:'reversion to primeval cruelty and superstition that would be only possible in Italy, or among the black worshippers of Hoo-doo; he understood in its whole, subtle vileiiess file revenge that the ” imigieian ” hoped Io takeTipon the girl who had slighted him, who was

supposed to prefer another—that other, himself! The incantation was nearly over. Now was the time to aet upon the inspiration that had come to him. Holstead flung his arms round the pillar that sheltered him. and tugged at it with all his might. It swayed on its base. Alternately pushing and pulling, he set up a kind of jM'ndulum motion in the column. The length of the vibrations increased under his terrific exertions. Absorbed in the scene at the altar stone, waiting for the climax when the knife must be plunged into the throat of the innocent victim, and Satan himself should appear to reveal the treasure, the men in the middle of the court did not notice the swaying of one of the pillars in the shadow. Suddenly there was a tearing, a roar; tile column was rent from its foundation, and with the great block that rested on it, clattered like a fall of rock upon the pavement of the court. A cry rose from the three peasants as a tall, black figure leaped lightly from the place where the pillar had stood, aqjl dashed up to the altar. It was the answer to the incantation: a spirit had come. The sacrificial knife fell from a nerveless hand. The three men dropped upon their knees, jabbering with terror, and reverting in this moment of frenzy to their Christian faith, crossed themselves as fast as their fingers could move. But instead of waving a wand to roll back the . solid walls, or opening the ground to show the cellars crammed with’ jewels, the spirit seized the captive girl with a powerful arm, tore her from Don Paolo’s grasp, and ran with her to the stairs that led to the upper ground. The peasants still knelt, gaping helplessly; but the magician, stooping swiftly to pick up the knife, was Instantly in pursuit. Half way up the steps, Holstead set down the Princess, and wheeled in a flash to face his adversary. Don Paolo was leaping after him, his black robe flying, the keen blade shining in his hand, upraised to strike. He was two steps below the Englishman, when Holstead’s fist shot out like a catapult catching the Italian full on the point ofthe-uplifted chin, s With .-tire violence of the blow, his head jerked backwards; he gasped; swayed an instant on the step with outstretched hands that groped at the air. the knife falling with a clatter" on the stones; then pitched headlong backwards with a sickening crash, rolled down the stairs, and lay motionless on the floor of the court yard.

“You credulous fools.” called Holstead’s scornful voice to the three peasants whose white faces he could see peering up n't. him from below nut of the darkness, “thank God that he has, allowed me to save you from a great crime! That wretch who lies there at your feet has imposed upon you. has played on your avarice, to make you commit, a foul- murder, the guilt of which he would have found ready means of fastening on your shoulders, while he went free. He would have had you, to satisfy his own spite and hate, kill your benefactor; the lady who had nursed your children and cared for your wives and mothers. Shame on you, for ignorant and cruel brutes!” He had untied the gag that closed the Princess’s mouth; he had torn off the eords that held her wrists and ankles, and she stood by his side, leaning against his shoulder, her breast heaving as she drew in deep breaths. At Holstead’s last words, the three, ruffians had moved forward threateningly; they knew now that he was no spirit. He took one of the Princess’s little hands in his,-and urged her gently up the stairs. “If you doubt me,” he called down to them again, “go to the spot where you found the gold in the stream last night. Dig under the stunted tree marked with a cross —I marked-it. • There, you will find the pickaxe with which that sequn-

drel at your feet made a hole to bury the mpney; you, will find the very bag in which he .carried it there the night before. Fools, to be duped by such a shallow trick! ;At any moment the carabineri may lie here, roused by the noise of the falling pillar. Go quietly, and I will not denounce you.” Half dazed still, their faith in Don Paolo broken, the men hesitated, staring down at the prostrate figure that had no power to save itself. But Holstead did not wait for them to make up their minds. The brief flame of the girl’s strength had died, and, even without looking in her face, he knew that she had fainted in the clasp of his strong arm. Catching her up once more, as if she had been a child, he was off and away, disappearing from the men’s sight in the thick shadows. He blessed his foresight now for having unlocked the gate, for there was no delay in passing through. The Princess was safe, and as for the fools who woulld have been the necromancer’s catspaw, he eared not what they might do; but afterwards he was to 1 arn that, in rage and disappointment, one had stabbed the unconscious Don Paolo to the heart with his’ own knife. In the present, however, there was but one thought for him —the girl he loved. To fulfil his promise to Assunta, and take the Princess home, he must pass mar his own hotel; and there, below the steps that fed up to the house, were lights, and voices, and noise of horses' trampling hoofs. Someone called out to him. “Good heavens. Jack—is that you? We came up to surprise you. and your mother’s had a fright at finding you’d disappeared. For goodness’ sake, what’s that you’re carrying?” It was Lord Dartmoor, Jack’s father; and from half way up tire flight of steps Lady Dartmoor came hurrying down. Holstead had paused, with his father’s hand on his arm. and at sight of a girl’s white face, and falling glory of hair tossed back over her son’s shoulders, Eady Dartmoor gave a cry. “Who is she?” .. “The.. Princess linmaculata della Marra,” said Holstead. “and—the lady I hope may consent to be my wife.” As it happened, only one day passed before that hope.;was fulfilled.