vault

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References in classic literature ?
By night he would go alone to the treasure vault, reconnoitering, for he had determined that caution should mark his every move upon this expedition.
After having passed the rubbish, and torn away more than one branch of ivy that had made itself a guardian of the solitude, Athos arrived at the vaults situated beneath the great hall, but the entrance of which was from the chapel.
The vaults which hid the eggs until they were ready for the incubator were located many miles south of the incubator, and would be visited yearly by the council of twenty chieftains.
At the third compartment the vault was so low, the passage so narrow, that the bark would scarcely have passed without touching the side; nevertheless, in moments of despair, wood softens and stone grows flexible beneath the human will.
Its walls had been lined with human remains, piled to the vault overhead, in the fashion of the great catacombs of Paris.
The vaults were, it was believed, used as dungeons in the old times-- say, some centuries since.
Thrice did there peal peals at the gate like thunders, thrice did the vaults resound and howl again: then did I go to the gate.
And I with a family vault under that there church of Kingsbere as big as Squire Jollard's ale-cellar, and my folk lying there in sixes and sevens, as genuine county bones and marrow as any recorded in history.
In this there was much that reminded me of the specious totality of old wood-work which has rotted for long years in some neglected vault, with no disturbance from the breath of the external air.
After allowing a moment of stillness to enforce his discipline, the voice of the singer was heard, in low, murmuring syllables, gradually stealing on the ear, until it filled the narrow vault with sounds rendered trebly thrilling by the feeble and tremulous utterance produced by his debility.
Far in the forest, dim and old, For her may some tall vault unfold -- Some vault that oft hath flung its black And winged pannels fluttering back, Triumphant, o'er the crested palls, Of her grand family funerals -- Some sepulchre, remote, alone, Against whose portal she hath thrown, In childhood, many an idle stone -- Some tomb fromout whose sounding door She ne'er shall force an echo more, Thrilling to think, poor child of sin
Then turning to the fire James seized the tongs, "and under his feet he mightily brast up a blank of the chamber,"* and leaping down into the vault beneath he let the plank fall again into its place.