the monk(僧侣)-第50部分

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upon　her；　and　deprive　her　of　the　power　of　resisting　your
attempts。　　Sleep　will　hold　her　till　break　of　Morning。　　In　this
state　you　may　satisfy　your　desires　without　danger　of　being
discovered；　since　when　daylight　shall　dispel　the　effects　of　the
enchantment；　Antonia　will　perceive　her　dishonour；　but　be　ignorant
of　the　Ravisher。　　Be　happy　then；　my　Ambrosio；　and　let　this
service　convince　you　that　my　friendship　is　disinterested　and
pure。　　The　night　must　be　near　expiring：　　Let　us　return　to　the
Abbey；　lest　our　absence　should　create　surprize。'

The　Abbot　received　the　talisman　with　silent　gratitude。　　His　ideas
were　too　much　bewildered　by　the　adventures　of　the　night　to
permit　his　expressing　his　thanks　audibly；　or　indeed　as　yet　to
feel　the　whole　value　of　her　present。　　Matilda　took　up　her　Lamp
and　Basket；　and　guided　her　Companion　from　the　mysterious　Cavern。　
She　restored　the　Lamp　to　its　former　place；　and　continued　her
route　in　darkness；　till　She　reached　the　foot　of　the　Staircase。
The　first　beams　of　the　rising　Sun　darting　down　it　facilitated　the
ascent。　　Matilda　and　the　Abbot　hastened　out　of　the　Sepulchre；
closed　the　door　after　them；　and　soon　regained　the　Abbey's　western
Cloister。　　No　one　met　them；　and　they　retired　unobserved　to　their
respective　Cells。

The　confusion　of　Ambrosio's　mind　now　began　to　appease。　　He
rejoiced　in　the　fortunate　issue　of　his　adventure；　and　reflecting
upon　the　virtues　of　the　Myrtle；　looked　upon　Antonia　as　already　in
his　power。　　Imagination　retraced　to　him　those　secret　charms
betrayed　to　him　by　the　Enchanted　Mirror；　and　He　waited　with
impatience　for　the　approach　of　midnight。

　

　
VOLUME　III

CHAPTER　I

The　crickets　sing；　and　Man's　o'er…laboured　sense　　
Repairs　itself　by　rest：　　Our　Tarquin　thus　　
Did　softly　press　the　rushes；　ere　He　wakened　　
The　chastity　He　woundedCytherea；　　
How　bravely　thou　becom'st　thy　bed！　Fresh　Lily！　　
And　whiter　than　the　sheets！　　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Cymbeline。　

All　the　researches　of　the　Marquis　de　las　Cisternas　proved　vain：　
Agnes　was　lost　to　him　for　ever。　　Despair　produced　so　violent　an
effect　upon　his　constitution；　that　the　consequence　was　a　long　and
severe　illness。　　This　prevented　him　from　visiting　Elvira　as　He
had　intended；　and　She　being　ignorant　of　the　cause　of　his　neglect；
it　gave　her　no　trifling　uneasiness。　　His　Sister's　death　had
prevented　Lorenzo　from　communicating　to　his　Uncle　his　designs
respecting　Antonia：　　The　injunctions　of　her　Mother　forbad　his
presenting　himself　to　her　without　the　Duke's　consent；　and　as　She
heard　no　more　of　him　or　his　proposals；　Elvira　conjectured　that　He
had　either　met　with　a　better　match；　or　had　been　commanded　to　give
up　all　thoughts　of　her　Daughter。　　Every　day　made　her　more　uneasy
respecting　Antonia's　fate：　　While　She　retained　the　Abbot's
protection；　She　bore　with　fortitude　the　disappointment　of　her
hopes　with　regard　to　Lorenzo　and　the　Marquis。　　That　resource　now
failed　her。　　She　was　convinced　that　Ambrosio　had　meditated　her
Daughter's　ruin：　　And　when　She　reflected　that　her　death　would
leave　Antonia　friendless　and　unprotected　in　a　world　so　base；　so
perfidious　and　depraved；　her　heart　swelled　with　the　bitterness　of
apprehension。　　At　such　times　She　would　sit　for　hours　gazing　upon
the　lovely　Girl；　and　seeming　to　listen　to　her　innocent　prattle；
while　in　reality　her　thoughts　dwelt　upon　the　sorrows　into　which
a　moment　would　suffice　to　plunge　her。　　Then　She　would　clasp　her
in　her　arms　suddenly；　lean　her　head　upon　her　Daughter's　bosom；
and　bedew　it　with　her　tears。

An　event　was　in　preparation　which；　had　She　known　it；　would　have
relieved　her　from　her　inquietude。　　Lorenzo　now　waited　only　for　a
favourable　opportunity　to　inform　the　Duke　of　his　intended
marriage：　　However；　a　circumstance　which　occurred　at　this　period；
obliged　him　to　delay　his　explanation　for　a　few　days　longer。

Don　Raymond's　malady　seemed　to　gain　ground。　　Lorenzo　was
constantly　at　his　bedside；　and　treated　him　with　a　tenderness
truly　fraternal。　　Both　the　cause　and　effects　of　the　disorder　were
highly　afflicting　to　the　Brother　of　Agnes：　yet　Theodore's　grief
was　scarcely　less　sincere。　　That　amiable　Boy　quitted　not　his
Master　for　a　moment；　and　put　every　means　in　practice　to　console
and　alleviate　his　sufferings。　　The　Marquis　had　conceived　so
rooted　an　affection　for　his　deceased　Mistress；　that　it　was
evident　to　all　that　He　never　could　survive　her　loss：　　Nothing
could　have　prevented　him　from　sinking　under　his　grief　but　the
persuasion　of　her　being　still　alive；　and　in　need　of　his
assistance。　　Though　convinced　of　its　falsehood；　his　Attendants
encouraged　him　in　a　belief　which　formed　his　only　comfort。　　He
was　assured　daily　that　fresh　perquisitions　were　making
respecting　the　fate　of　Agnes：　　Stories　were　invented　recounting
the　various　attempts　made　to　get　admittance　into　the　Convent；　and
circumstances　were　related　which；　though　they　did　not　promise　her
absolute　recovery；　at　least　were　sufficient　to　keep　his　hopes
alive。　　The　Marquis　constantly　fell　into　the　most　terrible　excess
of　passion　when　informed　of　the　failure　of　these　supposed
attempts。　　Still　He　would　not　credit　that　the　succeeding　ones
would　have　the　same　fate；　but　flattered　himself　that　the　next
would　prove　more　fortunate。

Theodore　was　the　only　one　who　exerted　himself　to　realize　his
Master's　Chimoeras。　　He　was　eternally　busied　in　planning　schemes
for　entering　the　Convent；　or　at　least　of　obtaining　from　the　Nuns
some　intelligence　of　Agnes。　　To　execute　these　schemes　was　the
only　inducement　which　could　prevail　on　him　to　quit　Don　Raymond。　
He　became　a　very　Proteus；　changing　his　shape　every　day；　but　all
his　metamorphoses　were　to　very　little　purpose：　He　regularly
returned　to　the　Palace　de　las　Cisternas　without　any　intelligence
to　confirm　his　Master's　hopes。　　One　day　He　took　it　into　his　head
to　disguise　himself　as　a　Beggar。　　He　put　a　patch　over　his　left
eye；　took　his　Guitar　in　hand；　and　posted　himself　at　the　Gate　of
the　Convent。

'If　Agnes　is　really　confined　in　the　Convent；'　thought　He；　'and
hears　my　voice；　She　will　recollect　it；　and　possibly　may　find
means　to　let　me　know　that　She　is　here。'

With　this　idea　He　mingled　with　a　crowd　of　Beggars　who　assembled
daily　at　the　Gate　of　St。　Clare　to　receive　Soup；　which　the　Nuns
were　accustomed　to　distribute　at　twelve　o'clock。　　All　were
provided　with　jugs　or　bowls　to　carry　it　away；　But　as　Theodore　had
no　utensil　of　this　kind；　He　begged　leave　to　eat　his　portion　at
the　Convent　door。　　This　was　granted　without　difficulty：　　His
sweet　voice；　and　in　spite　of　his　patched　eye；　his　engaging
countenance；　won　the　heart　of　the　good　old　Porteress；　who；　aided
by　a　Lay…Sister；　was　busied　in　serving　to　each　his　Mess。　
Theodore　was　bad　to　stay　till　the　Others　should　depart；　and
promised　that　his　request　should　then　be　granted。　　The　Youth
desired　no　better；　since　it　was　not　to　eat　Soup　that　He　presented
himself　at　the　Convent。　　He　thanked　the　Porteress　for　her
permission；　retired　from　the　Door；　and　seating　himself　upon　a
large　stone；　amused　himself　in　tuning　his　Guitar　while　the
Beggars　were　served。

As　soon　as　the　Crowd　was　gone；　Theodore　was　beckoned　to　the　Gate；
and　desired　to　come　in。　　He　obeyed　with　infinite　readiness；　but
affected　great　respect　at　passing　the　hallowed　Threshold；　and　to
be　much　daunted　by　the　presence　of　the　Reverend　Ladies。　　His
feigned　timidity　flattered　the　vanity　of　the　Nuns；　who
endeavoured　to　reassure　him。　　The　Porteress　took　him　into　her
awn　little　Parlour：　　In　the　meanwhile；　the　Lay…Sister　went　to
the　Kitchen；　and　soon　returned　with　a　double　portion　of　Soup；　of
better　quality　than　what　was　given　to　the　Beggars。　　His　Hostess
added　some　fruits　and　confections　from　her　own　private　store；　and
Both　encouraged　the　Youth　to　dine　heartily。　　To　all　these
attentions　He　replied　with　much　seeming　gratitude；　and　abundance
of　blessings　upon　his　benefactresses。　　While　He　ate；　the　Nuns
admired　the　delicacy　of　his　features；　the　beauty　of　his　hair；　and
the　sweetness　and　grace　which　accompanied　all　his　actions。　　They
lamented　to　each　other　in　whispers；　that　so　charming　a　Youth
should　be　exposed　to　the　seductions　of　the　World；　and　agreed；
that　He　would　be　a　worthy　Pillar　of　the　Catholic　Church。　　They
concluded　their　conference　by　resolving　that　Heaven　would　be
rendered　a　real　service　if　they　entreated　the　Prioress　to
intercede　with　Ambrosio　for　the　Beggar's　admission　into　the　order
of　Capuchins。

This　being　determined；　the　Porteress；　who　was　a　person　of　great
influence　in　the　Convent；　posted　away　in　all　haste　to　the
Domina's　Cell。　　Here　She　made　so　flaming　a　narrative　of
Theodore's　merits　that　the　old　Lady　grew　curious　to　see　him。　
Accordingly；　the　Porteress　was　commissioned　to　convey　him　to　the
Parlour　grate。　　In　the　interim；　the　supposed　Beggar　was　sifting
the　Lay…Sister　with　respect　to　the　fate　of　Agnes：　　Her　evidence
only　corroborated　the　Domina's　assertions。　　She　said　that　Agnes
had　been　taken　ill　on　returning　from　confession；　had　never
quitted　her　bed　from　that　moment；　and　that　She　had　herself　been
present　at　the　Funeral。　　She　even　attested　having　seen　her　dead
body；　and　assisted　with　her　own　hands　in　adjusting　it　upon　the
Bier。　　This　account　discouraged　Theodore：　　Yet　as　He　had　pushed
the　adventure　so　far；　He　resolved　to　witness　its　conclusion。

The　Porteress　now　returned；　and　ordered　him　to　follow　her。　　He
obeyed；　and　was　conducted　into　the　Parlour；　where　the　Lady
Prioress　was　already　posted　at　the　Grate。　　The　Nuns　surrounded
her；　who　all　flocked　with　eagerness　to　a　scene　which　promised
some　diversion。　　Theodore　saluted　them　with　profound　respect；　and
his　presence　had　the　power　to　smooth　for　a　moment　even　the　stern
brow　of　the　Superior。　　She　asked　several　questions　respecting　his
Parents；　his　religion；　and　what　had　reduced　him　to　a　state　of
Beggary。　　To　these　demands　his　answers　were　perfectly
satisfactory　and　perfectly　false。　He　was　then　asked　his　opinion
of　a　monastic　life：　　He　replied　in　terms　of　high　estimation　and
respect　for　it。　　Upon　this；　the　Prioress　told　him　that　his
obtaining　an　entrance　into　a　religious　order　was　not　impossible；
that　her　recommendation　would　not　permit　his　poverty　to　be　an
obstacle；　and　that　if　She　found　him　deserving　it；　He