The Monk: A Romance

by M. G. Lewis

  CHAPTER IV

  Great Heaven! How frail thy creature Man is made! How by himself insensibly betrayed! In our own strength unhappily secure, Too little cautious of the adverse power, On pleasure's flowery brink we idly stray, Masters as yet of our returning way: Till the strong gusts of raging passion rise, Till the dire Tempest mingles earth and skies, And swift into the boundless Ocean borne, Our foolish confidence too late we mourn: Round our devoted heads the billows beat, And from our troubled view the lessening lands retreat. Prior.

  All this while, Ambrosio was unconscious of the dreadful scenes whichwere passing so near. The execution of his designs upon Antoniaemployed his every thought. Hitherto, He was satisfied with thesuccess of his plans. Antonia had drank the opiate, was buried in thevaults of St. Clare, and absolutely in his disposal. Matilda, who waswell acquainted with the nature and effects of the soporific medicine,had computed that it would not cease to operate till one in theMorning. For that hour He waited with impatience. The Festival of St.Clare presented him with a favourable opportunity of consummating hiscrime. He was certain that the Friars and Nuns would be engaged in theProcession, and that He had no cause to dread an interruption: Fromappearing himself at the head of his Monks, He had desired to beexcused. He doubted not, that being beyond the reach of help, cut offfrom all the world, and totally in his power, Antonia would comply withhis desires. The affection which She had ever exprest for him,warranted this persuasion: But He resolved that should She proveobstinate, no consideration whatever should prevent him from enjoyingher. Secure from a discovery, He shuddered not at the idea ofemploying force: If He felt any repugnance, it arose not from aprinciple of shame or compassion, but from his feeling for Antonia themost sincere and ardent affection, and wishing to owe her favours to noone but herself.

  The Monks quitted the Abbey at midnight. Matilda was among theChoristers, and led the chaunt. Ambrosio was left by himself, and atliberty to pursue his own inclinations. Convinced that no one remainedbehind to watch his motions, or disturb his pleasures, He now hastenedto the Western Aisles. His heart beating with hope not unmingled withanxiety, He crossed the Garden, unlocked the door which admitted himinto the Cemetery, and in a few minutes He stood before the Vaults.Here He paused.

  He looked round him with suspicion, conscious that his business wasunfit for any other eye. As He stood in hesitation, He heard themelancholy shriek of the screech-Owl: The wind rattled loudly againstthe windows of the adjacent Convent, and as the current swept by him,bore with it the faint notes of the chaunt of Choristers. He openedthe door cautiously, as if fearing to be overheard: He entered; andclosed it again after him. Guided by his Lamp, He threaded the longpassages, in whose windings Matilda had instructed him, and reached theprivate Vault which contained his sleeping Mistress.

  Its entrance was by no means easy to discover: But this was noobstacle to Ambrosio, who at the time of Antonia's Funeral had observedit too carefully to be deceived. He found the door, which wasunfastened, pushed it open, and descended into the dungeon. Heapproached the humble Tomb in which Antonia reposed. He had providedhimself with an iron crow and a pick-axe; But this precaution wasunnecessary. The Grate was slightly fastened on the outside: Heraised it, and placing the Lamp upon its ridge, bent silently over theTomb. By the side of three putrid half-corrupted Bodies lay thesleeping Beauty. A lively red, the forerunner of returning animation,had already spread itself over her cheek; and as wrapped in her shroudShe reclined upon her funeral Bier, She seemed to smile at the Imagesof Death around her. While He gazed upon their rotting bones anddisgusting figures, who perhaps were once as sweet and lovely, Ambrosiothought upon Elvira, by him reduced to the same state. As the memory ofthat horrid act glanced upon his mind, it was clouded with a gloomyhorror. Yet it served but to strengthen his resolution to destroyAntonia's honour.

  'For your sake, Fatal Beauty!' murmured the Monk, while gazing on hisdevoted prey; 'For your sake, have I committed this murder, and soldmyself to eternal tortures. Now you are in my power: The produce of myguilt will at least be mine. Hope not that your prayers breathed intones of unequalled melody, your bright eyes filled with tears, andyour hands lifted in supplication, as when seeking in penitence theVirgin's pardon; Hope not that your moving innocence, your beauteousgrief, or all your suppliant arts shall ransom you from my embraces.Before the break of day, mine you must, and mine you shall be!'

  He lifted her still motionless from the Tomb: He seated himself upon abank of Stone, and supporting her in his arms, watched impatiently forthe symptoms of returning animation. Scarcely could He command hispassions sufficiently, to restrain himself from enjoying her while yetinsensible. His natural lust was increased in ardour by thedifficulties which had opposed his satisfying it: As also by his longabstinence from Woman, since from the moment of resigning her claim tohis love, Matilda had exiled him from her arms for ever.

  'I am no Prostitute, Ambrosio;' Had She told him, when in the fullnessof his lust He demanded her favours with more than usual earnestness;'I am now no more than your Friend, and will not be your Mistress.Cease then to solicit my complying with desires, which insult me.While your heart was mine, I gloried in your embraces: Those happytimes are past: My person is become indifferent to you, and 'tisnecessity, not love, which makes you seek my enjoyment. I cannot yieldto a request so humiliating to my pride.'

  Suddenly deprived of pleasures, the use of which had made them anabsolute want, the Monk felt this restraint severely. Naturallyaddicted to the gratification of the senses, in the full vigour ofmanhood, and heat of blood, He had suffered his temperament to acquiresuch ascendency that his lust was become madness. Of his fondness forAntonia, none but the grosser particles remained: He longed for thepossession of her person; and even the gloom of the vault, thesurrounding silence, and the resistance which He expected from her,seemed to give a fresh edge to his fierce and unbridled desires.

  Gradually He felt the bosom which rested against his, glow withreturning warmth. Her heart throbbed again; Her blood flowed swifter,and her lips moved. At length She opened her eyes, but still opprestand bewildered by the effects of the strong opiate, She closed themagain immediately. Ambrosio watched her narrowly, nor permitted amovement to escape him. Perceiving that She was fully restored toexistence, He caught her in rapture to his bosom, and closely pressedhis lips to hers. The suddenness of his action sufficed to dissipatethe fumes which obscured Antonia's reason. She hastily raised herself,and cast a wild look round her. The strange Images which presentedthemselves on every side contributed to confuse her. She put her handto her head, as if to settle her disordered imagination. At length Shetook it away, and threw her eyes through the dungeon a second time.They fixed upon the Abbot's face.

  'Where am I?' She said abruptly. 'How came I here? Where is myMother? Methought, I saw her! Oh! a dream, a dreadful dreadful dreamtold me ...... But where am I? Let me go! I cannot stay here!'

  She attempted to rise, but the Monk prevented her.

  'Be calm, lovely Antonia!' He replied; 'No danger is near you: Confidein my protection. Why do you gaze on me so earnestly? Do you not knowme? Not know your Friend? Ambrosio?'

  'Ambrosio? My Friend? Oh! yes, yes; I remember ...... But whyam I here? Who has brought me? Why are you with me? Oh! Flora bad mebeware .....! Here are nothing but Graves, and Tombs, andSkeletons! This place frightens me! Good Ambrosio take me away fromit, for it recalls my fearful dream! Methought I was dead, and laid inmy grave! Good Ambrosio, take me from hence. Will you not? Oh! willyou not? Do not look on me thus!

  Your flaming eyes terrify me! Spare me, Father! Oh! spare me for God'ssake!'

  'Why these terrors, Antonia?' rejoined the Abbot, folding her in hisarms, and covering her bosom with kisses which She in vain struggled toavoid: 'What fear you from me, from one who adores you? What mattersit where you are? This Sepulchre seems to me Love's bower; This gloomis the friendly night
of mystery which He spreads over our delights!Such do I think it, and such must my Antonia. Yes, my sweet Girl!Yes! Your veins shall glow with fire which circles in mine, and mytransports shall be doubled by your sharing them!'

  While He spoke thus, He repeated his embraces, and permitted himselfthe most indecent liberties. Even Antonia's ignorance was not proofagainst the freedom of his behaviour. She was sensible of her danger,forced herself from his arms, and her shroud being her only garment,She wrapped it closely round her.

  'Unhand me, Father!' She cried, her honest indignation tempered byalarm at her unprotected position; 'Why have you brought me to thisplace? Its appearance freezes me with horror! Convey me from hence,if you have the least sense of pity and humanity! Let me return to theHouse which I have quitted I know not how; But stay here one momentlonger, I neither will, or ought.'

  Though the Monk was somewhat startled by the resolute tone in whichthis speech was delivered, it produced upon him no other effect thansurprize. He caught her hand, forced her upon his knee, and gazingupon her with gloting eyes, He thus replied to her.

  'Compose yourself, Antonia. Resistance is unavailing, and I needdisavow my passion for you no longer. You are imagined dead: Societyis for ever lost to you. I possess you here alone; You are absolutelyin my power, and I burn with desires which I must either gratify ordie: But I would owe my happiness to yourself. My lovely Girl! Myadorable Antonia! Let me instruct you in joys to which you are still aStranger, and teach you to feel those pleasures in my arms which I mustsoon enjoy in yours. Nay, this struggling is childish,' He continued,seeing her repell his caresses, and endeavour to escape from his grasp;'No aid is near: Neither heaven or earth shall save you from myembraces. Yet why reject pleasures so sweet, so rapturous? No oneobserves us: Our loves will be a secret to all the world: Love andopportunity invite your giving loose to your passions. Yield to them,my Antonia! Yield to them, my lovely Girl! Throw your arms thusfondly round me; Join your lips thus closely to mine! Amidst all hergifts, has Nature denied her most precious, the sensibility ofPleasure? Oh! impossible! Every feature, look, and motion declaresyou formed to bless, and to be blessed yourself! Turn not on me thosesupplicating eyes: Consult your own charms; They will tell you that Iam proof against entreaty. Can I relinquish these limbs so white, sosoft, so delicate; These swelling breasts, round, full, and elastic!These lips fraught with such inexhaustible sweetness? Can I relinquishthese treasures, and leave them to another's enjoyment? No, Antonia;never, never! I swear it by this kiss, and this! and this!'

  With every moment the Friar's passion became more ardent, and Antonia'sterror more intense. She struggled to disengage herself from his arms:Her exertions were unsuccessful; and finding that Ambrosio's conductbecame still freer, She shrieked for assistance with all her strength.The aspect of the Vault, the pale glimmering of the Lamp, thesurrounding obscurity, the sight of the Tomb, and the objects ofmortality which met her eyes on either side, were ill-calculated toinspire her with those emotions by which the Friar was agitated. Evenhis caresses terrified her from their fury, and created no othersentiment than fear. On the contrary, her alarm, her evident disgust,and incessant opposition, seemed only to inflame the Monk's desires,and supply his brutality with additional strength. Antonia's shriekswere unheard: Yet She continued them, nor abandoned her endeavours toescape, till exhausted and out of breath She sank from his arms uponher knees, and once more had recourse to prayers and supplications.This attempt had no better success than the former. On the contrary,taking advantage of her situation, the Ravisher threw himself by herside: He clasped her to his bosom almost lifeless with terror, andfaint with struggling. He stifled her cries with kisses, treated herwith the rudeness of an unprincipled Barbarian, proceeded from freedomto freedom, and in the violence of his lustful delirium, wounded andbruised her tender limbs. Heedless of her tears, cries and entreaties,He gradually made himself Master of her person, and desisted not fromhis prey, till He had accomplished his crime and the dishonour ofAntonia.

  Scarcely had He succeeded in his design than He shuddered at himselfand the means by which it was effected. The very excess of his formereagerness to possess Antonia now contributed to inspire him withdisgust; and a secret impulse made him feel how base and unmanly wasthe crime which He had just committed. He started hastily from herarms. She, who so lately had been the object of his adoration, nowraised no other sentiment in his heart than aversion and rage. Heturned away from her; or if his eyes rested upon her figureinvoluntarily, it was only to dart upon her looks of hate. TheUnfortunate had fainted ere the completion of her disgrace: She onlyrecovered life to be sensible of her misfortune. She remained stretchedupon the earth in silent despair: The tears chased each other slowlydown her cheeks, and her bosom heaved with frequent sobs. Oppressedwith grief, She continued for some time in this state of torpidity. Atlength She rose with difficulty, and dragging her feeble steps towardsthe door, prepared to quit the dungeon.

  The sound of her footsteps rouzed the Monk from his sullen apathy.Starting from the Tomb against which He reclined, while his eyeswandered over the images of corruption contained in it, He pursued theVictim of his brutality, and soon overtook her. He seized her by thearm, and violently forced her back into the dungeon.

  'Whither go you?' He cried in a stern voice; 'Return this instant!'

  Antonia trembled at the fury of his countenance.

  'What, would you more?' She said with timidity: 'Is not my ruincompleated? Am I not undone, undone for ever? Is not your crueltycontented, or have I yet more to suffer? Let me depart. Let me returnto my home, and weep unrestrained my shame and my affliction!'

  'Return to your home?' repeated the Monk, with bitter and contemptuousmockery; Then suddenly his eyes flaming with passion, 'What? That youmay denounce me to the world? That you may proclaim me an Hypocrite, aRavisher, a Betrayer, a Monster of cruelty, lust, and ingratitude? No,no, no! I know well the whole weight of my offences; Well that yourcomplaints would be too just, and my crimes too notorious! You shallnot from hence to tell Madrid that I am a Villain; that my conscienceis loaded with sins which make me despair of Heaven's pardon. WretchedGirl, you must stay here with me! Here amidst these lonely Tombs,these images of Death, these rotting loathsome corrupted bodies! Hereshall you stay, and witness my sufferings; witness what it is to die inthe horrors of despondency, and breathe the last groan in blasphemy andcurses! And who am I to thank for this? What seduced me into crimes,whose bare remembrance makes me shudder? Fatal Witch! was it not thybeauty? Have you not plunged my soul into infamy? Have you not mademe a perjured Hypocrite, a Ravisher, an Assassin! Nay, at this moment,does not that angel look bid me despair of God's forgiveness? Oh! whenI stand before his judgment-throne, that look will suffice to damn me!You will tell my Judge that you were happy, till I saw you; that youwere innocent, till I polluted you! You will come with those tearfuleyes, those cheeks pale and ghastly, those hands lifted insupplication, as when you sought from me that mercy which I gave not!Then will my perdition be certain! Then will come your Mother's Ghost,and hurl me down into the dwellings of Fiends, and flames, and Furies,and everlasting torments! And 'tis you, who will accuse me! 'Tis you,who will cause my eternal anguish! You, wretched Girl! You! You!'

  As He thundered out these words, He violently grasped Antonia's arm,and spurned the earth with delirious fury.

  Supposing his brain to be turned, Antonia sank in terror upon herknees: She lifted up her hands, and her voice almost died away, ereShe could give it utterance.

  'Spare me! Spare me!' She murmured with difficulty.

  'Silence!' cried the Friar madly, and dashed her upon the ground----

  He quitted her, and paced the dungeon with a wild and disordered air.His eyes rolled fearfully: Antonia trembled whenever She met theirgaze. He seemed to meditate on something horrible, and She gave up allhopes of escaping from the Sepulchre with life. Yet in harbouring thisidea, She did him injustice. Amidst t
he horror and disgust to whichhis soul was a prey, pity for his Victim still held a place in it. Thestorm of passion once over, He would have given worlds had He possestthem, to have restored to her that innocence of which his unbridledlust had deprived her. Of the desires which had urged him to thecrime, no trace was left in his bosom: The wealth of India would nothave tempted him to a second enjoyment of her person. His natureseemed to revolt at the very idea, and fain would He have wiped fromhis memory the scene which had just past. As his gloomy rage abated,in proportion did his compassion augment for Antonia. He stopped, andwould have spoken to her words of comfort; But He knew not from whenceto draw them, and remained gazing upon her with mournful wildness. Hersituation seemed so hopeless, so woebegone, as to baffle mortal powerto relieve her. What could He do for her? Her peace of mind was lost,her honour irreparably ruined. She was cut off for ever from society,nor dared He give her back to it. He was conscious that were She toappear in the world again, his guilt would be revealed, and hispunishment inevitable. To one so laden with crimes, Death came armedwith double terrors. Yet should He restore Antonia to light, and standthe chance of her betraying him, how miserable a prospect would presentitself before her. She could never hope to be creditably established;She would be marked with infamy, and condemned to sorrow and solitudefor the remainder of her existence. What was the alternative? Aresolution far more terrible for Antonia, but which at least wouldinsure the Abbot's safety. He determined to leave the world persuadedof her death, and to retain her a captive in this gloomy prison: ThereHe proposed to visit her every night, to bring her food, to profess hispenitence, and mingle his tears with hers. The Monk felt that thisresolution was unjust and cruel; but it was his only means to preventAntonia from publishing his guilt and her own infamy. Should Herelease her, He could not depend upon her silence: His offence was tooflagrant to permit his hoping for her forgiveness. Besides, herreappearing would excite universal curiosity, and the violence of heraffliction would prevent her from concealing its cause. He determinedtherefore, that Antonia should remain a Prisoner in the dungeon.

  He approached her with confusion painted on his countenance. He raisedher from the ground. Her hand trembled, as He took it, and He droppedit again as if He had touched a Serpent. Nature seemed to recoil atthe touch. He felt himself at once repulsed from and attracted towardsher, yet could account for neither sentiment. There was something inher look which penetrated him with horror; and though his understandingwas still ignorant of it, Conscience pointed out to him the wholeextent of his crime. In hurried accents yet the gentlest He could find,while his eye was averted, and his voice scarcely audible, He strove toconsole her under a misfortune which now could not be avoided. Hedeclared himself sincerely penitent, and that He would gladly shed adrop of his blood, for every tear which his barbarity had forced fromher. Wretched and hopeless, Antonia listened to him in silent grief:But when He announced her confinement in the Sepulchre, that dreadfuldoom to which even death seemed preferable roused her from herinsensibility at once. To linger out a life of misery in a narrowloathsome Cell, known to exist by no human Being save her Ravisher,surrounded by mouldering Corses, breathing the pestilential air ofcorruption, never more to behold the light, or drink the pure gale ofheaven, the idea was more terrible than She could support. It conqueredeven her abhorrence of the Friar. Again She sank upon her knees: Shebesought his compassion in terms the most pathetic and urgent. Shepromised, would He but restore her to liberty, to conceal her injuriesfrom the world; to assign any reason for her reappearance which Hemight judge proper; and in order to prevent the least suspicion fromfalling upon him, She offered to quit Madrid immediately. Herentreaties were so urgent as to make a considerable impression upon theMonk. He reflected that as her person no longer excited his desires,He had no interest in keeping her concealed as He had at firstintended; that He was adding a fresh injury to those which She hadalready suffered; and that if She adhered to her promises, whether Shewas confined or at liberty, his life and reputation were equallysecure. On the other hand, He trembled lest in her affliction Antoniashould unintentionally break her engagement; or that her excessivesimplicity and ignorance of deceit should permit some one more artfulto surprize her secret. However well-founded were these apprehensions,compassion, and a sincere wish to repair his fault as much as possiblesolicited his complying with the prayers of his Suppliant. Thedifficulty of colouring Antonia's unexpected return to life, after hersupposed death and public interment, was the only point which kept himirresolute. He was still pondering on the means of removing thisobstacle, when He heard the sound of feet approaching withprecipitation. The door of the Vault was thrown open, and Matildarushed in, evidently much confused and terrified.

  On seeing a Stranger enter, Antonia uttered a cry of joy: But herhopes of receiving succour from him were soon dissipated. The supposedNovice, without expressing the least surprize at finding a Woman alonewith the Monk, in so strange a place, and at so late an hour, addressedhim thus without losing a moment.

  'What is to be done, Ambrosio? We are lost, unless some speedy meansis found of dispelling the Rioters. Ambrosio, the Convent of St. Clareis on fire; The Prioress has fallen a victim to the fury of the Mob.Already is the Abbey menaced with a similar fate. Alarmed at thethreats of the People, the Monks seek for you everywhere. They imaginethat your authority alone will suffice to calm this disturbance. Noone knows what is become of you, and your absence creates universalastonishment and despair. I profited by the confusion, and fled hitherto warn you of the danger.'

  'This will soon be remedied,' answered the Abbot; 'I will hasten backto my Cell: a trivial reason will account for my having been missed.'

  'Impossible!' rejoined Matilda: 'The Sepulchre is filled with Archers.Lorenzo de Medina, with several Officers of the Inquisition, searchesthrough the Vaults, and pervades every passage. You will beintercepted in your flight; Your reasons for being at this late hour inthe Sepulchre will be examined; Antonia will be found, and then you areundone for ever!'

  'Lorenzo de Medina? Officers of the Inquisition? What brings themhere? Seek they for me? Am I then suspected? Oh! speak, Matilda!Answer me, in pity!'

  'As yet they do not think of you, but I fear that they will ere long.Your only chance of escaping their notice rests upon the difficulty ofexploring this Vault. The door is artfully hidden:

  Haply it may not be observed, and we may remain concealed till thesearch is over.'

  'But Antonia ..... Should the Inquisitors draw near, and her criesbe heard ....'

  'Thus I remove that danger!' interrupted Matilda.

  At the same time drawing a poignard, She rushed upon her devoted prey.

  'Hold! Hold!' cried Ambrosio, seizing her hand, and wresting from itthe already lifted weapon. 'What would you do, cruel Woman? TheUnfortunate has already suffered but too much, thanks to yourpernicious consels! Would to God that I had never followed them!Would to God that I had never seen your face!'

  Matilda darted upon him a look of scorn.

  'Absurd!' She exclaimed with an air of passion and majesty whichimpressed the Monk with awe. 'After robbing her of all that made itdear, can you fear to deprive her of a life so miserable? But 'tiswell! Let her live to convince you of your folly. I abandon you toyour evil destiny! I disclaim your alliance! Who trembles to commitso insignificant a crime, deserves not my protection. Hark! Hark!Ambrosio; Hear you not the Archers? They come, and your destruction isinevitable!'

  At this moment the Abbot heard the sound of distant voices. He flew toclose the door on whose concealment his safety depended, and whichMatilda had neglected to fasten. Ere He could reach it, He saw Antoniaglide suddenly by him, rush through the door, and fly towards the noisewith the swiftness of an arrow. She had listened attentively toMatilda: She heard Lorenzo's name mentioned, and resolved to risqueevery thing to throw herself under his protection. The door was open.The sounds convinced her that the Archers could be at no greatdistanc
e. She mustered up her little remaining strength, rushed by theMonk ere He perceived her design, and bent her course rapidly towardsthe voices. As soon as He recovered from his first surprize, the Abbotfailed not to pursue her. In vain did Antonia redouble her speed, andstretch every nerve to the utmost. Her Enemy gained upon her everymoment: She heard his steps close after her, and felt the heat of hisbreath glow upon her neck. He overtook her; He twisted his hand in theringlets of her streaming hair, and attempted to drag her back with himto the dungeon. Antonia resisted with all her strength: She foldedher arms round a Pillar which supported the roof, and shrieked loudlyfor assistance. In vain did the Monk strive to threaten her to silence.

  'Help!' She continued to exclaim; 'Help! Help! for God's sake!'

  Quickened by her cries, the sound of footsteps was heard approaching.The Abbot expected every moment to see the Inquisitors arrive. Antoniastill resisted, and He now enforced her silence by means the mosthorrible and inhuman. He still grasped Matilda's dagger: Withoutallowing himself a moment's reflection, He raised it, and plunged ittwice in the bosom of Antonia! She shrieked, and sank upon the ground.The Monk endeavoured to bear her away with him, but She still embracedthe Pillar firmly. At that instant the light of approaching Torchesflashed upon the Walls. Dreading a discovery, Ambrosio was compelledto abandon his Victim, and hastily fled back to the Vault, where He hadleft Matilda.

  He fled not unobserved. Don Ramirez happening to arrive the first,perceived a Female bleeding upon the ground, and a Man flying from thespot, whose confusion betrayed him for the Murderer. He instantlypursued the Fugitive with some part of the Archers, while the Othersremained with Lorenzo to protect the wounded Stranger. They raised her,and supported her in their arms. She had fainted from excess of pain,but soon gave signs of returning life. She opened her eyes, and onlifting up her head, the quantity of fair hair fell back which tillthen had obscured her features.

  'God Almighty! It is Antonia!'

  Such was Lorenzo's exclamation, while He snatched her from theAttendant's arms, and clasped her in his own.

  Though aimed by an uncertain hand, the poignard had answered but toowell the purpose of its Employer. The wounds were mortal, and Antoniawas conscious that She never could recover. Yet the few moments whichremained for her were moments of happiness. The concern exprest uponLorenzo's countenance, the frantic fondness of his complaints, and hisearnest enquiries respecting her wounds, convinced her beyond a doubtthat his affections were her own. She would not be removed from theVaults, fearing lest motion should only hasten her death; and She wasunwilling to lose those moments which She past in receiving proofs ofLorenzo's love, and assuring him of her own. She told him that had Shestill been undefiled She might have lamented the loss of life; But thatdeprived of honour and branded with shame, Death was to her a blessing:She could not have been his Wife, and that hope being denied her, Sheresigned herself to the Grave without one sigh of regret. She bad himtake courage, conjured him not to abandon himself to fruitless sorrow,and declared that She mourned to leave nothing in the whole world buthim. While every sweet accent increased rather than lightenedLorenzo's grief, She continued to converse with him till the moment ofdissolution. Her voice grew faint and scarcely audible; A thick cloudspread itself over her eyes; Her heart beat slow and irregular, andevery instant seemed to announce that her fate was near at hand.

  She lay, her head reclining upon Lorenzo's bosom, and her lips stillmurmuring to him words of comfort. She was interrupted by the ConventBell, as tolling at a distance, it struck the hour. Suddenly Antonia'seyes sparkled with celestial brightness: Her frame seemed to havereceived new strength and animation. She started from her Lover's arms.

  'Three o'clock!' She cried; 'Mother, I come!'

  She clasped her hands, and sank lifeless upon the ground. Lorenzo inagony threw himself beside her: He tore his hair, beat his breast, andrefused to be separated from the Corse. At length his force beingexhausted, He suffered himself to be led from the Vault, and wasconveyed to the Palace de Medina scarcely more alive than theunfortunate Antonia.

  In the meanwhile, though closely pursued, Ambrosio succeeded inregaining the Vault. The Door was already fastened when Don Ramirezarrived, and much time elapsed, ere the Fugitive's retreat wasdiscovered. But nothing can resist perseverance. Though so artfullyconcealed, the Door could not escape the vigilance of the Archers.They forced it open, and entered the Vault to the infinite dismay ofAmbrosio and his Companion. The Monk's confusion, his attempt to hidehimself, his rapid flight, and the blood sprinkled upon his cloaths,left no room to doubt his being Antonia's Murderer. But when He wasrecognized for the immaculate Ambrosio, 'The Man of Holiness,' the Idolof Madrid, the faculties of the Spectators were chained up in surprize,and scarcely could they persuade themselves that what they saw was novision. The Abbot strove not to vindicate himself, but preserved asullen silence. He was secured and bound. The same precaution wastaken with Matilda: Her Cowl being removed, the delicacy of herfeatures and profusion of her golden hair betrayed her sex, and thisincident created fresh amazement. The dagger was also found in theTomb, where the Monk had thrown it; and the dungeon having undergone athorough search, the two Culprits were conveyed to the prisons of theInquisition.

  Don Ramirez took care that the populace should remain ignorant both ofthe crimes and profession of the Captives. He feared a repetition ofthe riots which had followed the apprehending the Prioress of St.Clare. He contented himself with stating to the Capuchins the guilt oftheir Superior. To avoid the shame of a public accusation, anddreading the popular fury from which they had already saved their Abbeywith much difficulty, the Monks readily permitted the Inquisitors tosearch their Mansion without noise. No fresh discoveries were made.The effects found in the Abbot's and Matilda's Cells were seized, andcarried to the Inquisition to be produced in evidence. Every thingelse remained in its former position, and order and tranquillity oncemore prevailed through Madrid.

  St. Clare's Convent was completely ruined by the united ravages of theMob and conflagration. Nothing remained of it but the principal Walls,whose thickness and solidity had preserved them from the flames. TheNuns who had belonged to it were obliged in consequence to dispersethemselves into other Societies: But the prejudice against them ranhigh, and the Superiors were very unwilling to admit them. However,most of them being related to Families the most distinguished for theirriches, birth and power, the several Convents were compelled to receivethem, though they did it with a very ill grace. This prejudice wasextremely false and unjustifiable: After a close investigation, it wasproved that All in the Convent were persuaded of the death of Agnes,except the four Nuns whom St. Ursula had pointed out. These had fallenVictims to the popular fury; as had also several who were perfectlyinnocent and unconscious of the whole affair. Blinded by resentment,the Mob had sacrificed every Nun who fell into their hands: They whoescaped were entirely indebted to the Duke de Medina's prudence andmoderation. Of this they were conscious, and felt for that Nobleman aproper sense of gratitude.

  Virginia was not the most sparing of her thanks: She wished equally tomake a proper return for his attentions, and to obtain the good gracesof Lorenzo's Uncle. In this She easily succeeded.

  The Duke beheld her beauty with wonder and admiration; and while hiseyes were enchanted with her Form, the sweetness of her manners and hertender concern for the suffering Nun prepossessed his heart in herfavour. This Virginia had discernment enough to perceive, and Sheredoubled her attention to the Invalid. When He parted from her at thedoor of her Father's Palace, the Duke entreated permission to enquireoccasionally after her health. His request was readily granted:Virginia assured him that the Marquis de Villa-Franca would be proud ofan opportunity to thank him in person for the protection afforded toher. They now separated, He enchanted with her beauty and gentleness,and She much pleased with him and more with his Nephew.

  On entering the Palace, Virginia's first care was to summon the familyPh
ysician, and take care of her unknown charge. Her Mother hastened toshare with her the charitable office. Alarmed by the riots, andtrembling for his Daughter's safety, who was his only child, theMarquis had flown to St. Clare's Convent, and was still employed inseeking her. Messengers were now dispatched on all sides to inform himthat He would find her safe at his Hotel, and desire him to hastenthither immediately. His absence gave Virginia liberty to bestow herwhole attention upon her Patient; and though much disordered herself bythe adventures of the night, no persuasion could induce her to quit thebedside of the Sufferer. Her constitution being much enfeebled by wantand sorrow, it was some time before the Stranger was restored to hersenses. She found great difficulty in swallowing the medicinesprescribed to her: But this obstacle being removed, She easilyconquered her disease which proceeded from nothing but weakness. Theattention which was paid her, the wholesome food to which She had beenlong a Stranger, and her joy at being restored to liberty, to society,and, as She dared to hope, to Love, all this combined to her speedyre-establishment.

  From the first moment of knowing her, her melancholy situation, hersufferings almost unparalleled had engaged the affections of heramiable Hostess: Virginia felt for her the most lively interest; Buthow was She delighted, when her Guest being sufficiently recovered torelate her History, She recognized in the captive Nun the Sister ofLorenzo!

  This victim of monastic cruelty was indeed no other than theunfortunate Agnes. During her abode in the Convent, She had been wellknown to Virginia: But her emaciated form, her features altered byaffliction, her death universally credited, and her overgrown andmatted hair which hung over her face and bosom in disorder at first hadprevented her being recollected. The Prioress had put every artificein practice to induce Virginia to take the veil; for the Heiress ofVilla-Franca would have been no despicable acquisition. Her seemingkindness and unremitted attention so far succeeded that her youngRelation began to think seriously upon compliance. Better instructedin the disgust and ennui of a monastic life, Agnes had penetrated thedesigns of the Domina: She trembled for the innocent Girl, andendeavoured to make her sensible of her error. She painted in theirtrue colours the numerous inconveniencies attached to a Convent, thecontinued restraint, the low jealousies, the petty intrigues, theservile court and gross flattery expected by the Superior. She thenbad Virginia reflect on the brilliant prospect which presented itselfbefore her: The Idol of her Parents, the admiration of Madrid, endowedby nature and education with every perfection of person and mind, Shemight look forward to an establishment the most fortunate. Her richesfurnished her with the means of exercising in their fullest extent,charity and benevolence, those virtues so dear to her; and her stay inthe world would enable her discovering Objects worthy her protection,which could not be done in the seclusion of a Convent.

  Her persuasions induced Virginia to lay aside all thoughts of the Veil:But another argument, not used by Agnes, had more weight with her thanall the others put together. She had seen Lorenzo, when He visited hisSister at the Grate. His Person pleased her, and her conversationswith Agnes generally used to terminate in some question about herBrother. She, who doted upon Lorenzo, wished for no better than anopportunity to trumpet out his praise. She spoke of him in terms ofrapture; and to convince her Auditor how just were his sentiments, howcultivated his mind, and elegant his expressions, She showed her atdifferent times the letters which She received from him. She soonperceived that from these communications the heart of her young Friendhad imbibed impressions, which She was far from intending to give, butwas truly happy to discover. She could not have wished her Brother amore desirable union: Heiress of Villa-Franca, virtuous, affectionate,beautiful, and accomplished, Virginia seemed calculated to make himhappy. She sounded her Brother upon the subject, though withoutmentioning names or circumstances. He assured her in his answers thathis heart and hand were totally disengaged, and She thought that uponthese grounds She might proceed without danger. She in consequenceendeavoured to strengthen the dawning passion of her Friend. Lorenzowas made the constant topic of her discourse; and the avidity withwhich her Auditor listened, the sighs which frequently escaped from herbosom, and the eagerness with which upon any digression She broughtback the conversation to the subject whence it had wandered, sufficedto convince Agnes that her Brother's addresses would be far fromdisagreeable. She at length ventured to mention her wishes to theDuke: Though a Stranger to the Lady herself, He knew enough of hersituation to think her worthy his Nephew's hand. It was agreed betweenhim and his Niece, that She should insinuate the idea to Lorenzo, andShe only waited his return to Madrid to propose her Friend to him ashis Bride. The unfortunate events which took place in the interim,prevented her from executing her design. Virginia wept her losssincerely, both as a Companion, and as the only Person to whom Shecould speak of Lorenzo. Her passion continued to prey upon her heartin secret, and She had almost determined to confess her sentiments toher Mother, when accident once more threw their object in her way. Thesight of him so near her, his politeness, his compassion, hisintrepidity, had combined to give new ardour to her affection. WhenShe now found her Friend and Advocate restored to her, She looked uponher as a Gift from Heaven; She ventured to cherish the hope of beingunited to Lorenzo, and resolved to use with him his Sister's influence.

  Supposing that before her death Agnes might possibly have made theproposal, the Duke had placed all his Nephew's hints of marriage toVirginia's account: Consequently, He gave them the most favourablereception. On returning to his Hotel, the relation given him ofAntonia's death, and Lorenzo's behaviour on the occasion, made evidenthis mistake. He lamented the circumstances; But the unhappy Girl beingeffectually out of the way, He trusted that his designs would yet beexecuted. 'Tis true that Lorenzo's situation just then ill-suited himfor a Bridegroom. His hopes disappointed at the moment when Heexpected to realize them, and the dreadful and sudden death of hisMistress had affected him very severely. The Duke found him upon theBed of sickness. His Attendants expressed serious apprehensions forhis life; But the Uncle entertained not the same fears. He was ofopinion, and not unwisely, that 'Men have died, and worms have eatthem; but not for Love!' He therefore flattered himself that howeverdeep might be the impression made upon his Nephew's heart, Time andVirginia would be able to efface it. He now hastened to the afflictedYouth, and endeavoured to console him: He sympathised in his distress,but encouraged him to resist the encroachments of despair. He allowedthat He could not but feel shocked at an event so terrible, nor couldHe blame his sensibility; But He besought him not to torment himselfwith vain regrets, and rather to struggle with affliction, and preservehis life, if not for his own sake, at least for the sake of those whowere fondly attached to him. While He laboured thus to make Lorenzoforget Antonia's loss, the Duke paid his court assiduously to Virginia,and seized every opportunity to advance his Nephew's interest in herheart.

  It may easily be expected that Agnes was not long without enquiringafter Don Raymond. She was shocked to hear the wretched situation towhich grief had reduced him; Yet She could not help exulting secretly,when She reflected, that his illness proved the sincerity of his love.The Duke undertook the office himself, of announcing to the Invalid thehappiness which awaited him. Though He omitted no precaution toprepare him for such an event, at this sudden change from despair tohappiness Raymond's transports were so violent, as nearly to haveproved fatal to him. These once passed, the tranquillity of his mind,the assurance of felicity, and above all the presence of Agnes, (Whowas no sooner reestablished by the care of Virginia and theMarchioness, than She hastened to attend her Lover) soon enabled him toovercome the effects of his late dreadful malady. The calm of his soulcommunicated itself to his body, and He recovered with such rapidity asto create universal surprize.

  No so Lorenzo. Antonia's death accompanied with such terriblecircumstances weighed upon his mind heavily. He was worn down to ashadow. Nothing could give him pleasure. He was persuaded withdifficulty to swall
ow nourishment sufficient for the support of life,and a consumption was apprehended. The society of Agnes formed hisonly comfort. Though accident had never permitted their being muchtogether, He entertained for her a sincere friendship and attachment.Perceiving how necessary She was to him, She seldom quitted hischamber. She listened to his complaints with unwearied attention, andsoothed him by the gentleness of her manners, and by sympathising withhis distress. She still inhabited the Palace de Villa-Franca, thePossessors of which treated her with marked affection. The Duke hadintimated to the Marquis his wishes respecting Virginia. The match wasunexceptionable: Lorenzo was Heir to his Uncle's immense property, andwas distinguished in Madrid for his agreeable person, extensiveknowledge, and propriety of conduct: Add to this, that the Marchionesshad discovered how strong was her Daughter's prepossession in hisfavour.

  In consequence the Duke's proposal was accepted without hesitation:Every precaution was taken to induce Lorenzo's seeing the Lady withthose sentiments which She so well merited to excite. In her visits toher Brother Agnes was frequently accompanied by the Marchioness; and assoon as He was able to move into his Antichamber, Virginia under hermother's protection was sometimes permitted to express her wishes forhis recovery. This She did with such delicacy, the manner in which Shementioned Antonia was so tender and soothing, and when She lamented herRival's melancholy fate, her bright eyes shone so beautiful through hertears, that Lorenzo could not behold, or listen to her without emotion.His Relations, as well as the Lady, perceived that with every day hersociety seemed to give him fresh pleasure, and that He spoke of her interms of stronger admiration. However, they prudently kept theirobservations to themselves. No word was dropped which might lead himto suspect their designs. They continued their former conduct andattention, and left Time to ripen into a warmer sentiment thefriendship which He already felt for Virginia.

  In the mean while, her visits became more frequent; and latterly therewas scarce a day, of which She did not pass some part by the side ofLorenzo's Couch. He gradually regained his strength, but the progressof his recovery was slow and doubtful. One evening He seemed to be inbetter spirits than usual: Agnes and her Lover, the Duke, Virginia,and her Parents were sitting round him. He now for the first timeentreated his Sister to inform him how She had escaped the effects ofthe poison which St. Ursula had seen her swallow. Fearful of recallingthose scenes to his mind in which Antonia had perished, She hadhitherto concealed from him the history of her sufferings. As He nowstarted the subject himself, and thinking that perhaps the narrative ofher sorrows might draw him from the contemplation of those on which Hedwelt too constantly, She immediately complied with his request. Therest of the company had already heard her story; But the interest whichall present felt for its Heroine made them anxious to hear it repeated.The whole society seconding Lorenzo's entreaties, Agnes obeyed. Shefirst recounted the discovery which had taken place in the AbbeyChapel, the Domina's resentment, and the midnight scene of which St.Ursula had been a concealed witness. Though the Nun had alreadydescribed this latter event, Agnes now related it more circumstantiallyand at large: After which She proceeded in her narrative as follows.

  Conclusion of the History of Agnes de Medina

  My supposed death was attended with the greatest agonies. Thosemoments which I believed my last, were embittered by the Domina'sassurances that I could not escape perdition; and as my eyes closed, Iheard her rage exhale itself in curses on my offence. The horror ofthis situation, of a death-bed from which hope was banished, of a sleepfrom which I was only to wake to find myself the prey of flames andFuries, was more dreadful than I can describe. When animation revivedin me, my soul was still impressed with these terrible ideas: I lookedround with fear, expecting to behold the Ministers of divine vengeance.For the first hour, my senses were so bewildered, and my brain sodizzy, that I strove in vain to arrange the strange images whichfloated in wild confusion before me. If I endeavoured to raise myselffrom the ground, the wandering of my head deceived me. Every thingaround me seemed to rock, and I sank once more upon the earth. My weakand dazzled eyes were unable to bear a nearer approach to a gleam oflight which I saw trembling above me. I was compelled to close themagain, and remain motionless in the same posture.

  A full hour elapsed, before I was sufficiently myself to examine thesurrounding Objects. When I did examine them, what terror filled mybosom I found myself extended upon a sort of wicker Couch: It had sixhandles to it, which doubtless had served the Nuns to convey me to mygrave. I was covered with a linen cloth:

  Several faded flowers were strown over me: On one side lay a smallwooden Crucifix; On the other, a Rosary of large Beads. Four low narrowwalls confined me. The top was also covered, and in it was practised asmall grated Door: Through this was admitted the little air whichcirculated in this miserable place. A faint glimmering of light whichstreamed through the Bars, permitted me to distinguish the surroundinghorrors. I was opprest by a noisome suffocating smell; and perceivingthat the grated door was unfastened, I thought that I might possiblyeffect my escape. As I raised myself with this design, my hand restedupon something soft: I grasped it, and advanced it towards the light.Almighty God! What was my disgust, my consternation! In spite of itsputridity, and the worms which preyed upon it, I perceived a corruptedhuman head, and recognised the features of a Nun who had died somemonths before!

  I threw it from me, and sank almost lifeless upon my Bier.

  When my strength returned, this circumstance, and the consciousness ofbeing surrounded by the loathsome and mouldering Bodies of myCompanions, increased my desire to escape from my fearful prison. Iagain moved towards the light. The grated door was within my reach: Ilifted it without difficulty; Probably it had been left unclosed tofacilitate my quitting the dungeon. Aiding myself by the irregularityof the Walls some of whose stones projected beyond the rest, Icontrived to ascend them, and drag myself out of my prison. I nowfound Myself in a Vault tolerably spacious. Several Tombs, similar inappearance to that whence I had just escaped, were ranged along thesides in order, and seemed to be considerably sunk within the earth. Asepulchral Lamp was suspended from the roof by an iron chain, and sheda gloomy light through the dungeon. Emblems of Death were seen onevery side: Skulls, shoulder-blades, thigh-bones, and other leavingsof Mortality were scattered upon the dewy ground. Each Tomb wasornamented with a large Crucifix, and in one corner stood a woodenStatue of St. Clare. To these objects I at first paid no attention: ADoor, the only outlet from the Vault, had attracted my eyes. Ihastened towards it, having wrapped my winding-sheet closely round me.I pushed against the door, and to my inexpressible terror found that itwas fastened on the outside.

  I guessed immediately that the Prioress, mistaking the nature of theliquor which She had compelled me to drink, instead of poison hadadministered a strong Opiate. From this I concluded that being to allappearance dead I had received the rites of burial; and that deprivedof the power of making my existence known, it would be my fate toexpire of hunger. This idea penetrated me with horror, not merely formy own sake, but that of the innocent Creature, who still lived withinmy bosom. I again endeavoured to open the door, but it resisted all myefforts. I stretched my voice to the extent of its compass, andshrieked for aid: I was remote from the hearing of every one: Nofriendly voice replied to mine. A profound and melancholy silenceprevailed through the Vault, and I despaired of liberty. My longabstinence from food now began to torment me. The tortures whichhunger inflicted on me, were the most painful and insupportable: Yetthey seemed to increase with every hour which past over my head.Sometimes I threw myself upon the ground, and rolled upon it wild anddesperate: Sometimes starting up, I returned to the door, again stroveto force it open, and repeated my fruitless cries for succour. Oftenwas I on the point of striking my temple against the sharp corner ofsome Monument, dashing out my brains, and thus terminating my woes atonce; But still the remembrance of my Baby vanquished my resolution: Itrembled at a deed which equ
ally endangered my Child's existence and myown. Then would I vent my anguish in loud exclamations and passionatecomplaints; and then again my strength failing me, silent and hopelessI would sit me down upon the base of St. Clare's Statue, fold my arms,and abandon myself to sullen despair. Thus passed several wretchedhours. Death advanced towards me with rapid strides, and I expectedthat every succeeding moment would be that of my dissolution. Suddenlya neighbouring Tomb caught my eye: A Basket stood upon it, which tillthen I had not observed. I started from my seat: I made towards it asswiftly as my exhausted frame would permit. How eagerly did I seizethe Basket, on finding it to contain a loaf of coarse bread and a smallbottle of water.

  I threw myself with avidity upon these humble aliments. They had to allappearance been placed in the Vault for several days; The bread washard, and the water tainted; Yet never did I taste food to me sodelicious. When the cravings of appetite were satisfied, I busiedmyself with conjectures upon this new circumstance: I debated whetherthe Basket had been placed there with a view to my necessity. Hopeanswered my doubts in the affirmative. Yet who could guess me to be inneed of such assistance? If my existence was known, why was I detainedin this gloomy Vault? If I was kept a Prisoner, what meant theceremony of committing me to the Tomb? Or if I was doomed to perishwith hunger, to whose pity was I indebted for provisions placed withinmy reach? A Friend would not have kept my dreadful punishment asecret; Neither did it seem probable that an Enemy would have takenpains to supply me with the means of existence. Upon the whole I wasinclined to think that the Domina's designs upon my life had beendiscovered by some one of my Partizans in the Convent, who had foundmeans to substitute an opiate for poison: That She had furnished mewith food to support me, till She could effect my delivery: And thatShe was then employed in giving intelligence to my Relations of mydanger, and pointing out a way to release me from captivity. Yet whythen was the quality of my provisions so coarse? How could my Friendhave entered the Vault without the Domina's knowledge? And if She hadentered, why was the Door fastened so carefully? These reflectionsstaggered me: Yet still this idea was the most favourable to my hopes,and I dwelt upon it in preference.

  My meditations were interrupted by the sound of distant footsteps.They approached, but slowly. Rays of light now darted through thecrevices of the Door. Uncertain whether the Persons who advanced cameto relieve me, or were conducted by some other motive to the Vault, Ifailed not to attract their notice by loud cries for help. Still thesounds drew near: The light grew stronger: At length withinexpressible pleasure I heard the Key turning in the Lock. Persuadedthat my deliverance was at hand, I flew towards the Door with a shriekof joy. It opened: But all my hopes of escape died away, when thePrioress appeared followed by the same four Nuns, who had beenwitnesses of my supposed death. They bore torches in their hands, andgazed upon me in fearful silence.

  I started back in terror. The Domina descended into the Vault, as didalso her Companions. She bent upon me a stern resentful eye, butexpressed no surprize at finding me still living. She took the seatwhich I had just quitted: The door was again closed, and the Nunsranged themselves behind their Superior, while the glare of theirtorches, dimmed by the vapours and dampness of the Vault, gilded withcold beams the surrounding Monuments. For some moments all preserved adead and solemn silence. I stood at some distance from the Prioress.At length She beckoned me to advance. Trembling at the severity of heraspect my strength scarce sufficed me to obey her. I drew near, but mylimbs were unable to support their burthen. I sank upon my knees; Iclasped my hands, and lifted them up to her for mercy, but had no powerto articulate a syllable.

  She gazed upon me with angry eyes.

  'Do I see a Penitent, or a Criminal?' She said at length; 'Are thosehands raised in contrition for your crimes, or in fear of meeting theirpunishment? Do those tears acknowledge the justice of your doom, oronly solicit mitigation of your sufferings? I fear me, 'tis thelatter!'

  She paused, but kept her eye still fixt upon mine.

  'Take courage;' She continued: 'I wish not for your death, but yourrepentance. The draught which I administered, was no poison, but anopiate. My intention in deceiving you was to make you feel the agoniesof a guilty conscience, had Death overtaken you suddenly while yourcrimes were still unrepented. You have suffered those agonies: I havebrought you to be familiar with the sharpness of death, and I trustthat your momentary anguish will prove to you an eternal benefit. Itis not my design to destroy your immortal soul; or bid you seek thegrave, burthened with the weight of sins unexpiated. No, Daughter, farfrom it: I will purify you with wholesome chastisement, and furnishyou with full leisure for contrition and remorse. Hear then mysentence; The ill-judged zeal of your Friends delayed its execution,but cannot now prevent it. All Madrid believes you to be no more; YourRelations are thoroughly persuaded of your death, and the Nuns yourPartizans have assisted at your funeral. Your existence can never besuspected; I have taken such precautions, as must render it animpenetrable mystery. Then abandon all thoughts of a World from whichyou are eternally separated, and employ the few hours which are allowedyou, in preparing for the next.'

  This exordium led me to expect something terrible. I trembled, andwould have spoken to deprecate her wrath: but a motion of the Dominacommanded me to be silent. She proceeded.

  'Though of late years unjustly neglected, and now opposed by many ofour misguided Sisters, (whom Heaven convert!) it is my intention torevive the laws of our order in their full force. That againstincontinence is severe, but no more than so monstrous an offencedemands: Submit to it, Daughter, without resistance; You will find thebenefit of patience and resignation in a better life than this. Listenthen to the sentence of St. Clare. Beneath these Vaults there existPrisons, intended to receive such criminals as yourself: Artfully istheir entrance concealed, and She who enters them, must resign allhopes of liberty. Thither must you now be conveyed. Food shall besupplied you, but not sufficient for the indulgence of appetite: Youshall have just enough to keep together body and soul, and its qualityshall be the simplest and coarsest. Weep, Daughter, weep, and moistenyour bread with your tears: God knows that you have ample cause forsorrow! Chained down in one of these secret dungeons, shut out fromthe world and light for ever, with no comfort but religion, no societybut repentance, thus must you groan away the remainder of your days.Such are St. Clare's orders; Submit to them without repining. Followme!'

  Thunderstruck at this barbarous decree, my little remaining strengthabandoned me. I answered only by falling at her feet, and bathing themwith tears. The Domina, unmoved by my affliction, rose from her seatwith a stately air. She repeated her commands in an absolute tone:But my excessive faintness made me unable to obey her. Mariana andAlix raised me from the ground, and carried me forwards in their arms.The Prioress moved on, leaning upon Violante, and Camilla preceded herwith a Torch. Thus passed our sad procession along the passages, insilence only broken by my sighs and groans. We stopped before theprincipal shrine of St. Clare. The Statue was removed from itsPedestal, though how I knew not. The Nuns afterwards raised an irongrate till then concealed by the Image, and let it fall on the otherside with a loud crash. The awful sound, repeated by the vaults above,and Caverns below me, rouzed me from the despondent apathy in which Ihad been plunged. I looked before me: An abyss presented itself to myaffrighted eyes, and a steep and narrow Staircase, whither myConductors were leading me. I shrieked, and started back. I imploredcompassion, rent the air with my cries, and summoned both heaven andearth to my assistance. In vain! I was hurried down the Staircase, andforced into one of the Cells which lined the Cavern's sides.

  My blood ran cold, as I gazed upon this melancholy abode. The coldvapours hovering in the air, the walls green with damp, the bed ofStraw so forlorn and comfortless, the Chain destined to bind me forever to my prison, and the Reptiles of every description which as thetorches advanced towards them, I descried hurrying to their retreats,struck my heart with terro
rs almost too exquisite for nature to bear.Driven by despair to madness, I burst suddenly from the Nuns who heldme: I threw myself upon my knees before the Prioress, and besought hermercy in the most passionate and frantic terms.

  'If not on me,' said I, 'look at least with pity on that innocentBeing, whose life is attached to mine! Great is my crime, but let notmy Child suffer for it! My Baby has committed no fault: Oh! spare mefor the sake of my unborn Offspring, whom ere it tastes life yourseverity dooms to destruction!'

  The Prioress drew back haughtily: She forced her habit from my grasp,as if my touch had been contagious.

  'What?' She exclaimed with an exasperated air; 'What? Dare you pleadfor the produce of your shame? Shall a Creature be permitted to live,conceived in guilt so monstrous? Abandoned Woman, speak for him nomore! Better that the Wretch should perish than live: Begotten inperjury, incontinence, and pollution, It cannot fail to prove a Prodigyof vice. Hear me, thou Guilty! Expect no mercy from me either foryourself, or Brat. Rather pray that Death may seize you before youproduce it; Or if it must see the light, that its eyes may immediatelybe closed again for ever! No aid shall be given you in your labour;Bring your Offspring into the world yourself, Feed it yourself, Nurseit yourself, Bury it yourself: God grant that the latter may happensoon, lest you receive comfort from the fruit of your iniquity!'

  This inhuman speech, the threats which it contained, the dreadfulsufferings foretold to me by the Domina, and her prayers for myInfant's death, on whom though unborn I already doated, were more thanmy exhausted frame could support. Uttering a deep groan, I fellsenseless at the feet of my unrelenting Enemy. I know not how long Iremained in this situation; But I imagine that some time must haveelapsed before my recovery, since it sufficed the Prioress and her Nunsto quit the Cavern. When my senses returned, I found myself in silenceand solitude. I heard not even the retiring footsteps of myPersecutors. All was hushed, and all was dreadful! I had been thrownupon the bed of Straw: The heavy Chain which I had already eyed withterror, was wound around my waist, and fastened me to the Wall. A Lampglimmering with dull, melancholy rays through my dungeon, permitted mydistinguishing all its horrors: It was separated from the Cavern by alow and irregular Wall of Stone: A large Chasm was left open in itwhich formed the entrance, for door there was none. A leaden Crucifixwas in front of my straw Couch. A tattered rug lay near me, as didalso a Chaplet of Beads; and not far from me stood a pitcher of water,and a wicker Basket containing a small loaf, and a bottle of oil tosupply my Lamp.

  With a despondent eye did I examine this scene of suffering: When Ireflected that I was doomed to pass in it the remainder of my days, myheart was rent with bitter anguish. I had once been taught to lookforward to a lot so different! At one time my prospects had appearedso bright, so flattering! Now all was lost to me. Friends, comfort,society, happiness, in one moment I was deprived of all! Dead to theworld, Dead to pleasure, I lived to nothing but the sense of misery.How fair did that world seem to me, from which I was for ever excluded!How many loved objects did it contain, whom I never should beholdagain! As I threw a look of terror round my prison, as I shrunk fromthe cutting wind which howled through my subterraneous dwelling, thechange seemed so striking, so abrupt, that I doubted its reality.

  That the Duke de Medina's Niece, that the destined Bride of the Marquisde las Cisternas, One bred up in affluence, related to the noblestfamilies in Spain, and rich in a multitude of affectionate Friends,that She should in one moment become a Captive, separated from theworld for ever, weighed down with chains, and reduced to support lifewith the coarsest aliments, appeared a change so sudden and incredible,that I believed myself the sport of some frightful vision. Itscontinuance convinced me of my mistake with but too much certainty.Every morning my hopes were disappointed. At length I abandoned allidea of escaping: I resigned myself to my fate, and only expectedLiberty when She came the Companion of Death.

  My mental anguish, and the dreadful scenes in which I had been anActress, advanced the period of my labour. In solitude and misery,abandoned by all, unassisted by Art, uncomforted by Friendship, withpangs which if witnessed would have touched the hardest heart, was Idelivered of my wretched burthen. It came alive into the world; But Iknew not how to treat it, or by what means to preserve its existence.I could only bathe it with tears, warm it in my bosom, and offer upprayers for its safety. I was soon deprived of this mournfulemployment: The want of proper attendance, my ignorance how to nurseit, the bitter cold of the dungeon, and the unwholesome air whichinflated its lungs, terminated my sweet Babe's short and painfulexistence. It expired in a few hours after its birth, and I witnessedits death with agonies which beggar all description.

  But my grief was unavailing. My Infant was no more; nor could all mysighs impart to its little tender frame the breath of a moment. I rentmy winding-sheet, and wrapped in it my lovely Child. I placed it on mybosom, its soft arm folded round my neck, and its pale cold cheekresting upon mine. Thus did its lifeless limbs repose, while I coveredit with kisses, talked to it, wept, and moaned over it withoutremission, day or night. Camilla entered my prison regularly once everytwenty-four hours, to bring me food. In spite of her flinty nature,She could not behold this spectacle unmoved. She feared that grief soexcessive would at length turn my brain, and in truth I was not alwaysin my proper senses. From a principle of compassion She urged me topermit the Corse to be buried: But to this I never would consent. Ivowed not to part with it while I had life: Its presence was my onlycomfort, and no persuasion could induce me to give it up. It soonbecame a mass of putridity, and to every eye was a loathsome anddisgusting Object; To every eye but a Mother's. In vain did humanfeelings bid me recoil from this emblem of mortality with repugnance:I withstood, and vanquished that repugnance. I persisted in holding myInfant to my bosom, in lamenting it, loving it, adoring it! Hour afterhour have I passed upon my sorry Couch, contemplating what had oncebeen my Child: I endeavoured to retrace its features through the lividcorruption, with which they were overspread: During my confinement thissad occupation was my only delight; and at that time Worlds should nothave bribed me to give it up. Even when released from my prison, Ibrought away my Child in my arms. The representations of my two kindFriends,"--(Here She took the hands of the Marchioness and Virginia,and pressed them alternately to her lips)--"at length persuaded me toresign my unhappy Infant to the Grave. Yet I parted from it withreluctance: However, reason at length prevailed; I suffered it to betaken from me, and it now reposes in consecrated ground.

  I before mentioned that regularly once a day Camilla brought me food.She sought not to embitter my sorrows with reproach: She bad me, 'tistrue, resign all hopes of liberty and worldly happiness; But Sheencouraged me to bear with patience my temporary distress, and advisedme to draw comfort from religion.

  My situation evidently affected her more than She ventured to express:But She believed that to extenuate my fault would make me less anxiousto repent it. Often while her lips painted the enormity of my guilt inglaring colours, her eyes betrayed, how sensible She was to mysufferings. In fact I am certain that none of my Tormentors, (for thethree other Nuns entered my prison occasionally) were so much actuatedby the spirit of oppressive cruelty as by the idea that to afflict mybody was the only way to preserve my soul. Nay, even this persuasionmight not have had such weight with them, and they might have thoughtmy punishment too severe, had not their good dispositions been represtby blind obedience to their Superior. Her resentment existed in fullforce. My project of elopement having been discovered by the Abbot ofthe Capuchins, She supposed herself lowered in his opinion by mydisgrace, and in consequence her hate was inveterate. She told theNuns to whose custody I was committed that my fault was of the mostheinous nature, that no sufferings could equal the offence, and thatnothing could save me from eternal perdition but punishing my guiltwith the utmost severity. The Superior's word is an oracle to but toomany of a Convent's Inhabitants. The Nuns believed whatever thePrioress chose t
o assert: Though contradicted by reason and charity,they hesitated not to admit the truth of her arguments. They followedher injunctions to the very letter, and were fully persuaded that totreat me with lenity, or to show the least pity for my woes, would be adirect means to destroy my chance for salvation.

  Camilla, being most employed about me, was particularly charged by thePrioress to treat me with harshness. In compliance with these orders,She frequently strove to convince me, how just was my punishment, andhow enormous was my crime: She bad me think myself too happy in savingmy soul by mortifying my body, and even threatened me sometimes witheternal perdition. Yet as I before observed, She always concluded bywords of encouragement and comfort; and though uttered by Camilla'slips, I easily recognised the Domina's expressions. Once, and onceonly, the Prioress visited me in my dungeon. She then treated me withthe most unrelenting cruelty: She loaded me with reproaches, tauntedme with my frailty, and when I implored her mercy, told me to ask it ofheaven, since I deserved none on earth. She even gazed upon mylifeless Infant without emotion; and when She left me, I heard hercharge Camilla to increase the hardships of my Captivity. UnfeelingWoman! But let me check my resentment: She has expiated her errors byher sad and unexpected death. Peace be with her; and may her crimes beforgiven in heaven, as I forgive her my sufferings on earth!

  Thus did I drag on a miserable existence. Far from growing familiarwith my prison, I beheld it every moment with new horror. The coldseemed more piercing and bitter, the air more thick and pestilential.My frame became weak, feverish, and emaciated. I was unable to risefrom the bed of Straw, and exercise my limbs in the narrow limits, towhich the length of my chain permitted me to move. Though exhausted,faint, and weary, I trembled to profit by the approach of Sleep: Myslumbers were constantly interrupted by some obnoxious Insect crawlingover me.

  Sometimes I felt the bloated Toad, hideous and pampered with thepoisonous vapours of the dungeon, dragging his loathsome length alongmy bosom: Sometimes the quick cold Lizard rouzed me leaving his slimytrack upon my face, and entangling itself in the tresses of my wild andmatted hair: Often have I at waking found my fingers ringed with thelong worms which bred in the corrupted flesh of my Infant. At suchtimes I shrieked with terror and disgust, and while I shook off thereptile, trembled with all a Woman's weakness.

  Such was my situation, when Camilla was suddenly taken ill. Adangerous fever, supposed to be infectious, confined her to her bed.Every one except the Lay-Sister appointed to nurse her, avoided herwith caution, and feared to catch the disease. She was perfectlydelirious, and by no means capable of attending to me. The Domina andthe Nuns admitted to the mystery, had latterly given me over entirelyto Camilla's care: In consequence, they busied themselves no moreabout me; and occupied by preparing for the approaching Festival, it ismore than probable that I never once entered into their thoughts. Ofthe reason of Camilla's negligence, I have been informed since myrelease by the Mother St. Ursula; At that time I was very far fromsuspecting its cause. On the contrary, I waited for my Gaoler'sappearance at first with impatience, and afterwards with despair. Oneday passed away; Another followed it; The Third arrived. Still noCamilla! Still no food! I knew the lapse of time by the wasting of myLamp, to supply which fortunately a week's supply of Oil had been leftme. I supposed, either that the Nuns had forgotten me, or that theDomina had ordered them to let me perish. The latter idea seemed themost probable; Yet so natural is the love of life, that I trembled tofind it true. Though embittered by every species of misery, myexistence was still dear to me, and I dreaded to lose it. Everysucceeding minute proved to me that I must abandon all hopes of relief.I was become an absolute skeleton: My eyes already failed me, and mylimbs were beginning to stiffen. I could only express my anguish, andthe pangs of that hunger which gnawed my heart-strings, by frequentgroans, whose melancholy sound the vaulted roof of the dungeonre-echoed. I resigned myself to my fate: I already expected themoment of dissolution, when my Guardian Angel, when my beloved Brotherarrived in time to save me. My sight grown dim and feeble at firstrefused to recognize him; and when I did distinguish his features, thesudden burst of rapture was too much for me to bear. I was overpoweredby the swell of joy at once more beholding a Friend, and that a Friendso dear to me. Nature could not support my emotions, and took herrefuge in insensibility.

  You already know, what are my obligations to the Family ofVilla-Franca: But what you cannot know is the extent of my gratitude,boundless as the excellence of my Benefactors. Lorenzo! Raymond!Names so dear to me! Teach me to bear with fortitude this suddentransition from misery to bliss. So lately a Captive, opprest withchains, perishing with hunger, suffering every inconvenience of coldand want, hidden from the light, excluded from society, hopeless,neglected, and as I feared, forgotten; Now restored to life andliberty, enjoying all the comforts of affluence and ease, surrounded bythose who are most loved by me, and on the point of becoming his Bridewho has long been wedded to my heart, my happiness is so exquisite, soperfect, that scarcely can my brain sustain the weight. One only wishremains ungratified: It is to see my Brother in his former health, andto know that Antonia's memory is buried in her grave.

  Granted this prayer, I have nothing more to desire. I trust, that mypast sufferings have purchased from heaven the pardon of my momentaryweakness. That I have offended, offended greatly and grievously, I amfully conscious; But let not my Husband, because He once conquered myvirtue, doubt the propriety of my future conduct. I have been frailand full of error: But I yielded not to the warmth of constitution;Raymond, affection for you betrayed me. I was too confident of mystrength; But I depended no less on your honour than my own. I hadvowed never to see you more: Had it not been for the consequences ofthat unguarded moment, my resolution had been kept. Fate willed itotherwise, and I cannot but rejoice at its decree. Still my conducthas been highly blameable, and while I attempt to justify myself, Iblush at recollecting my imprudence. Let me then dismiss theungrateful subject; First assuring you, Raymond, that you shall have nocause to repent our union, and that the more culpable have been theerrors of your Mistress, the more exemplary shall be the conduct ofyour Wife.

  Here Agnes ceased, and the Marquis replied to her address in termsequally sincere and affectionate. Lorenzo expressed his satisfaction atthe prospect of being so closely connected with a Man for whom He hadever entertained the highest esteem. The Pope's Bull had fully andeffectually released Agnes from her religious engagements: Themarriage was therefore celebrated as soon as the needful preparationshad been made, for the Marquis wished to have the ceremony performedwith all possible splendour and publicity. This being over, and theBride having received the compliments of Madrid, She departed with DonRaymond for his Castle in Andalusia: Lorenzo accompanied them, as didalso the Marchioness de Villa-Franca and her lovely Daughter. It isneedless to say that Theodore was of the party, and would be impossibleto describe his joy at his Master's marriage. Previous to hisdeparture, the Marquis, to atone in some measure for his past neglect,made some enquiries relative to Elvira. Finding that She as well as herDaughter had received many services from Leonella and Jacintha, Heshowed his respect to the memory of his Sister-in-law by making the twoWomen handsome presents. Lorenzo followed his example--Leonella washighly flattered by the attentions of Noblemen so distinguished, andJacintha blessed the hour on which her House was bewitched.

  On her side, Agnes failed not to reward her Convent Friends. The worthyMother St. Ursula, to whom She owed her liberty, was named at herrequest Superintendent of 'The Ladies of Charity:' This was one of thebest and most opulent Societies throughout Spain. Bertha and Cornelianot choosing to quit their Friend, were appointed to principal chargesin the same establishment. As to the Nuns who had aided the Domina inpersecuting Agnes, Camilla being confined by illness to her bed, hadperished in the flames which consumed St. Clare's Convent. Mariana,Alix, and Violante, as well as two more, had fallen victims to thepopular rage. The three Others who in Council had sup
ported theDomina's sentence, were severely reprimanded, and banished to religiousHouses in obscure and distant Provinces: Here they languished away afew years, ashamed of their former weakness, and shunned by theirCompanions with aversion and contempt.

  Nor was the fidelity of Flora permitted to go unrewarded. Her wishesbeing consulted, She declared herself impatient to revisit her nativeland. In consequence, a passage was procured for her to Cuba, whereShe arrived in safety, loaded with the presents of Raymond and Lorenzo.

  The debts of gratitude discharged, Agnes was at liberty to pursue herfavourite plan. Lodged in the same House, Lorenzo and Virginia wereeternally together. The more He saw of her, the more was He convincedof her merit. On her part, She laid herself out to please, and not tosucceed was for her impossible.

  Lorenzo witnessed with admiration her beautiful person, elegantmanners, innumerable talents, and sweet disposition: He was also muchflattered by her prejudice in his favour, which She had not sufficientart to conceal. However, his sentiments partook not of that ardentcharacter which had marked his affection for Antonia. The image ofthat lovely and unfortunate Girl still lived in his heart, and baffledall Virginia's efforts to displace it. Still when the Duke proposed tohim the match, which He wished to earnestly to take place, his Nephewdid not reject the offer. The urgent supplications of his Friends, andthe Lady's merit conquered his repugnance to entering into newengagements. He proposed himself to the Marquis de Villa-Franca, andwas accepted with joy and gratitude. Virginia became his Wife, nor didShe ever give him cause to repent his choice. His esteem increased forher daily. Her unremitted endeavours to please him could not butsucceed. His affection assumed stronger and warmer colours. Antonia'simage was gradually effaced from his bosom; and Virginia became soleMistress of that heart, which She well deserved to possess without aPartner.

  The remaining years of Raymond and Agnes, of Lorenzo and Virginia, werehappy as can be those allotted to Mortals, born to be the prey ofgrief, and sport of disappointment. The exquisite sorrows with whichthey had been afflicted, made them think lightly of every succeedingwoe. They had felt the sharpest darts in misfortune's quiver; Thosewhich remained appeared blunt in comparison. Having weathered Fate'sheaviest Storms, they looked calmly upon its terrors: or if ever theyfelt Affliction's casual gales, they seemed to them gentle as Zephyrswhich breathe over summer-seas.

  CHAPTER V

  ----He was a fell despightful Fiend: Hell holds none worse in baleful bower below: By pride, and wit, and rage, and rancor keened; Of Man alike, if good or bad the Foe. Thomson.

  On the day following Antonia's death, all Madrid was a scene ofconsternation and amazement. An Archer who had witnessed the adventurein the Sepulchre had indiscreetly related the circumstances of themurder: He had also named the Perpetrator. The confusion was withoutexample which this intelligence raised among the Devotees. Most ofthem disbelieved it, and went themselves to the Abbey to ascertain thefact. Anxious to avoid the shame to which their Superior's ill-conductexposed the whole Brotherhood, the Monks assured the Visitors thatAmbrosio was prevented from receiving them as usual by nothing butillness. This attempt was unsuccessful: The same excuse being repeatedday after day, the Archer's story gradually obtained confidence. HisPartizans abandoned him: No one entertained a doubt of his guilt; andthey who before had been the warmest in his praise were now the mostvociferous in his condemnation.

  While his innocence or guilt was debated in Madrid with the utmostacrimony, Ambrosio was a prey to the pangs of conscious villainy, andthe terrors of punishment impending over him. When He looked back tothe eminence on which He had lately stood, universally honoured andrespected, at peace with the world and with himself, scarcely could Hebelieve that He was indeed the culprit whose crimes and whose fate Hetrembled to envisage. But a few weeks had elapsed, since He was pureand virtuous, courted by the wisest and noblest in Madrid, and regardedby the People with a reverence that approached idolatry: He now sawhimself stained with the most loathed and monstrous sins, the object ofuniversal execration, a Prisoner of the Holy Office, and probablydoomed to perish in tortures the most severe. He could not hope todeceive his Judges: The proofs of his guilt were too strong. Hisbeing in the Sepulchre at so late an hour, his confusion at thediscovery, the dagger which in his first alarm He owned had beenconcealed by him, and the blood which had spirted upon his habit fromAntonia's wound, sufficiently marked him out for the Assassin. Hewaited with agony for the day of examination: He had no resource tocomfort him in his distress. Religion could not inspire him withfortitude: If He read the Books of morality which were put into hishands, He saw in them nothing but the enormity of his offences; If heattempted to pray, He recollected that He deserved not heaven'sprotection, and believed his crimes so monstrous as to baffle evenGod's infinite goodness. For every other Sinner He thought there mightbe hope, but for him there could be none. Shuddering at the past,anguished by the present, and dreading the future, thus passed He thefew days preceding that which was marked for his Trial.

  That day arrived. At nine in the morning his prison door was unlocked,and his Gaoler entering, commanded him to follow him. He obeyed withtrembling. He was conducted into a spacious Hall, hung with blackcloth. At the Table sat three grave, stern-looking Men, also habited inblack: One was the Grand Inquisitor, whom the importance of this causehad induced to examine into it himself. At a smaller table at a littledistance sat the Secretary, provided with all necessary implements forwriting. Ambrosio was beckoned to advance, and take his station at thelower end of the Table. As his eye glanced downwards, He perceivedvarious iron instruments lying scattered upon the floor. Their formswere unknown to him, but apprehension immediately guessed them to beengines of torture. He turned pale, and with difficulty preventedhimself from sinking upon the ground.

  Profound silence prevailed, except when the Inquisitors whispered a fewwords among themselves mysteriously. Near an hour past away, and withevery second of it Ambrosio's fears grew more poignant. At length asmall Door, opposite to that by which He had entered the Hall, gratedheavily upon its hinges. An Officer appeared, and was immediatelyfollowed by the beautiful Matilda. Her hair hung about her face wildly;Her cheeks were pale, and her eyes sunk and hollow. She threw amelancholy look upon Ambrosio: He replied by one of aversion andreproach. She was placed opposite to him. A Bell then sounded thrice.It was the signal for opening the Court, and the Inquisitors enteredupon their office.

  In these trials neither the accusation is mentioned, or the name of theAccuser. The Prisoners are only asked, whether they will confess: Ifthey reply that having no crime they can make no confession, they areput to the torture without delay. This is repeated at intervals,either till the suspected avow themselves culpable, or the perseveranceof the examinants is worn out and exhausted: But without a directacknowledgment of their guilt, the Inquisition never pronounces thefinal doom of its Prisoners.

  In general much time is suffered to elapse without their beingquestioned: But Ambrosio's trial had been hastened, on account of asolemn Auto da Fe which would take place in a few days, and in whichthe Inquisitors meant this distinguished Culprit to perform a part, andgive a striking testimony of their vigilance.

  The Abbot was not merely accused of rape and murder: The crime ofSorcery was laid to his charge, as well as to Matilda's. She had beenseized as an Accomplice in Antonia's assassination. On searching herCell, various suspicious books and instruments were found whichjustified the accusation brought against her. To criminate the Monk,the constellated Mirror was produced, which Matilda had accidentallyleft in his chamber. The strange figures engraved upon it caught theattention of Don Ramirez, while searching the Abbot's Cell: Inconsequence, He carried it away with him. It was shown to the GrandInquisitor, who having considered it for some time, took off a smallgolden Cross which hung at his girdle, and laid it upon the Mirror.Instantly a loud noise was heard, resembling a clap of thunder, and thesteel shivered into a thousand piece
s. This circumstance confirmed thesuspicion of the Monk's having dealt in Magic: It was even supposedthat his former influence over the minds of the People was entirely tobe ascribed to witchcraft.

  Determined to make him confess not only the crimes which He hadcommitted, but those also of which He was innocent, the Inquisitorsbegan their examination. Though dreading the tortures, as He dreadeddeath still more which would consign him to eternal torments, the Abbotasserted his purity in a voice bold and resolute. Matilda followed hisexample, but spoke with fear and trembling. Having in vain exhortedhim to confess, the Inquisitors ordered the Monk to be put to thequestion. The Decree was immediately executed. Ambrosio suffered themost excruciating pangs that ever were invented by human cruelty: Yetso dreadful is Death when guilt accompanies it, that He had sufficientfortitude to persist in his disavowal. His agonies were redoubled inconsequence: Nor was He released till fainting from excess of pain,insensibility rescued him from the hands of his Tormentors.

  Matilda was next ordered to the torture: But terrified by the sight ofthe Friar's sufferings, her courage totally deserted her. She sankupon her knees, acknowledged her corresponding with infernal Spirits,and that She had witnessed the Monk's assassination of Antonia: But asto the crime of Sorcery, She declared herself the sole criminal, andAmbrosio perfectly innocent. The latter assertion met with no credit.The Abbot had recovered his senses in time to hear the confession ofhis Accomplice: But He was too much enfeebled by what He had alreadyundergone to be capable at that time of sustaining new torments.

  He was commanded back to his Cell, but first informed that as soon asHe had gained strength sufficient, He must prepare himself for a secondexamination. The Inquisitors hoped that He would then be less hardenedand obstinate. To Matilda it was announced that She must expiate hercrime in fire on the approaching Auto da Fe. All her tears andentreaties could procure no mitigation of her doom, and She was draggedby force from the Hall of Trial.

  Returned to his dungeon, the sufferings of Ambrosio's body were farmore supportable than those of his mind. His dislocated limbs, thenails torn from his hands and feet, and his fingers mashed and brokenby the pressure of screws, were far surpassed in anguish by theagitation of his soul and vehemence of his terrors. He saw that,guilty or innocent, his Judges were bent upon condemning him: Theremembrance of what his denial had already cost him terrified him atthe idea of being again applied to the question, and almost engaged himto confess his crimes. Then again the consequences of his confessionflashed before him, and rendered him once more irresolute. His deathwould be inevitable, and that a death the most dreadful: He hadlistened to Matilda's doom, and doubted not that a similar was reservedfor him. He shuddered at the approaching Auto da Fe, at the idea ofperishing in flames, and only escaping from indurable torments to passinto others more subtile and ever-lasting! With affright did He bendhis mind's eye on the space beyond the grave; nor could hide fromhimself how justly he ought to dread Heaven's vengeance. In thisLabyrinth of terrors, fain would He have taken his refuge in the gloomof Atheism: Fain would He have denied the soul's immortality; havepersuaded himself that when his eyes once closed, they would never moreopen, and that the same moment would annihilate his soul and body.Even this resource was refused to him. To permit his being blind tothe fallacy of this belief, his knowledge was too extensive, hisunderstanding too solid and just. He could not help feeling theexistence of a God. Those truths, once his comfort, now presentedthemselves before him in the clearest light; But they only served todrive him to distraction. They destroyed his ill-grounded hopes ofescaping punishment; and dispelled by the irresistible brightness ofTruth and convinction, Philosophy's deceitful vapours faded away like adream.

  In anguish almost too great for mortal frame to bear, He expected thetime when He was again to be examined. He busied himself in planningineffectual schemes for escaping both present and future punishment.Of the first there was no possibility; Of the second Despair made himneglect the only means. While Reason forced him to acknowledge a God'sexistence, Conscience made him doubt the infinity of his goodness. Hedisbelieved that a Sinner like him could find mercy. He had not beendeceived into error: Ignorance could furnish him with no excuse. Hehad seen vice in her true colours; Before He committed his crimes, Hehad computed every scruple of their weight; and yet he had committedthem.

  'Pardon?' He would cry in an access of phrenzy 'Oh! there can be nonefor me!'

  Persuaded of this, instead of humbling himself in penitence, ofdeploring his guilt, and employing his few remaining hours indeprecating Heaven's wrath, He abandoned himself to the transports ofdesperate rage; He sorrowed for the punishment of his crimes, not theircommission; and exhaled his bosom's anguish in idle sighs, in vainlamentations, in blasphemy and despair. As the few beams of day whichpierced through the bars of his prison window gradually disappeared,and their place was supplied by the pale and glimmering Lamp, He felthis terrors redouble, and his ideas become more gloomy, more solemn,more despondent. He dreaded the approach of sleep: No sooner did hiseyes close, wearied with tears and watching, than the dreadful visionsseemed to be realised on which his mind had dwelt during the day. Hefound himself in sulphurous realms and burning Caverns, surrounded byFiends appointed his Tormentors, and who drove him through a variety oftortures, each of which was more dreadful than the former. Amidstthese dismal scenes wandered the Ghosts of Elvira and her Daughter.They reproached him with their deaths, recounted his crimes to theDaemons, and urged them to inflict torments of cruelty yet morerefined. Such were the pictures which floated before his eyes insleep: They vanished not till his repose was disturbed by excess ofagony. Then would He start from the ground on which He had stretchedhimself, his brows running down with cold sweat, his eyes wild andphrenzied; and He only exchanged the terrible certainty for surmizesscarcely more supportable. He paced his dungeon with disordered steps;He gazed with terror upon the surrounding darkness, and often did Hecry,

  'Oh! fearful is night to the Guilty!'

  The day of his second examination was at hand. He had been compelledto swallow cordials, whose virtues were calculated to restore hisbodily strength, and enable him to support the question longer. On thenight preceding this dreaded day, his fears for the morrow permittedhim not to sleep. His terrors were so violent, as nearly to annihilatehis mental powers. He sat like one stupefied near the Table on whichhis Lamp was burning dimly. Despair chained up his faculties inIdiotism, and He remained for some hours, unable to speak or move, orindeed to think.

  'Look up, Ambrosio!' said a Voice in accents well-known to him--

  The Monk started, and raised his melancholy eyes. Matilda stood beforehim. She had quitted her religious habit. She now wore a femaledress, at once elegant and splendid: A profusion of diamonds blazedupon her robes, and her hair was confined by a coronet of Roses. Inher right hand She held a small Book: A lively expression of pleasurebeamed upon her countenance; But still it was mingled with a wildimperious majesty which inspired the Monk with awe, and represt in somemeasure his transports at seeing her.

  'You here, Matilda?' He at length exclaimed; 'How have you gainedentrance? Where are your Chains? What means this magnificence, andthe joy which sparkles in your eyes? Have our Judges relented? Isthere a chance of my escaping? Answer me for pity, and tell me, what Ihave to hope, or fear.'

  'Ambrosio!' She replied with an air of commanding dignity; 'I havebaffled the Inquisition's fury. I am free: A few moments will placekingdoms between these dungeons and me. Yet I purchase my liberty at adear, at a dreadful price! Dare you pay the same, Ambrosio? Dare youspring without fear over the bounds which separate Men fromAngels?--You are silent.--You look upon me with eyes of suspicion andalarm--I read your thoughts and confess their justice. Yes, Ambrosio;I have sacrificed all for life and liberty. I am no longer a candidatefor heaven! I have renounced God's service, and am enlisted beneaththe banners of his Foes. The deed is past recall: Yet were it in mypower to go back, I would
not. Oh! my Friend, to expire in suchtorments! To die amidst curses and execrations! To bear the insults ofan exasperated Mob! To be exposed to all the mortifications of shameand infamy! Who can reflect without horror on such a doom? Let methen exult in my exchange. I have sold distant and uncertain happinessfor present and secure: I have preserved a life which otherwise I hadlost in torture; and I have obtained the power of procuring every blisswhich can make that life delicious! The Infernal Spirits obey me astheir Sovereign: By their aid shall my days be past in everyrefinement of luxury and voluptuousness. I will enjoy unrestrained thegratification of my senses: Every passion shall be indulged, even tosatiety; Then will I bid my Servants invent new pleasures, to reviveand stimulate my glutted appetites! I go impatient to exercise mynewly-gained dominion. I pant to be at liberty. Nothing should hold meone moment longer in this abhorred abode, but the hope of persuadingyou to follow my example. Ambrosio, I still love you: Our mutualguilt and danger have rendered you dearer to me than ever, and I wouldfain save you from impending destruction. Summon then your resolutionto your aid; and renounce for immediate and certain benefits the hopesof a salvation, difficult to obtain, and perhaps altogether erroneous.Shake off the prejudice of vulgar souls; Abandon a God who hasabandoned you, and raise yourself to the level of superior Beings!'

  She paused for the Monk's reply: He shuddered, while He gave it.

  'Matilda!' He said after a long silence in a low and unsteady voice;'What price gave you for liberty?'

  She answered him firm and dauntless.

  'Ambrosio, it was my Soul!'

  'Wretched Woman, what have you done? Pass but a few years, and howdreadful will be your sufferings!'

  'Weak Man, pass but this night, and how dreadful will be your own! Doyou remember what you have already endured? Tomorrow you must beartorments doubly exquisite. Do you remember the horrors of a fierypunishment? In two days you must be led a Victim to the Stake! Whatthen will become of you? Still dare you hope for pardon? Still areyou beguiled with visions of salvation? Think upon your crimes! Thinkupon your lust, your perjury, inhumanity, and hypocrisy! Think uponthe innocent blood which cries to the Throne of God for vengeance, andthen hope for mercy! Then dream of heaven, and sigh for worlds oflight, and realms of peace and pleasure! Absurd! Open your eyes,Ambrosio, and be prudent. Hell is your lot; You are doomed to eternalperdition; Nought lies beyond your grave but a gulph of devouringflames. And will you then speed towards that Hell? Will you clasp thatperdition in your arms, ere 'tis needful? Will you plunge into thoseflames while you still have the power to shun them? 'Tis a Madman'saction. No, no, Ambrosio: Let us for awhile fly from divinevengeance. Be advised by me; Purchase by one moment's courage thebliss of years; Enjoy the present, and forget that a future lagsbehind.'

  'Matilda, your counsels are dangerous: I dare not, I will not followthem. I must not give up my claim to salvation. Monstrous are mycrimes; But God is merciful, and I will not despair of pardon.'

  'Is such your resolution? I have no more to say. I speed to joy andliberty, and abandon you to death and eternal torments.'

  'Yet stay one moment, Matilda! You command the infernal Daemons:

  You can force open these prison doors; You can release me from thesechains which weigh me down. Save me, I conjure you, and bear me fromthese fearful abodes!'

  'You ask the only boon beyond my power to bestow. I am forbidden toassist a Churchman and a Partizan of God: Renounce those titles, andcommand me.'

  'I will not sell my soul to perdition.'

  'Persist in your obstinacy, till you find yourself at the Stake: Thenwill you repent your error, and sigh for escape when the moment is goneby. I quit you. Yet ere the hour of death arrives should wisdomenlighten you, listen to the means of repairing your present fault. Ileave with you this Book. Read the four first lines of the seventhpage backwards: The Spirit whom you have already once beheld willimmediately appear to you. If you are wise, we shall meet again: Ifnot, farewell for ever!'

  She let the Book fall upon the ground. A cloud of blue fire wrappeditself round her: She waved her hand to Ambrosio, and disappeared.The momentary glare which the flames poured through the dungeon, ondissipating suddenly, seemed to have increased its natural gloom. Thesolitary Lamp scarcely gave light sufficient to guide the Monk to aChair. He threw himself into his seat, folded his arms, and leaninghis head upon the table, sank into reflections perplexing andunconnected.

  He was still in this attitude when the opening of the prison doorrouzed him from his stupor. He was summoned to appear before the GrandInquisitor. He rose, and followed his Gaoler with painful steps. Hewas led into the same Hall, placed before the same Examiners, and wasagain interrogated whether He would confess. He replied as before, thathaving no crimes, He could acknowledge none: But when the Executionersprepared to put him to the question, when He saw the engines oftorture, and remembered the pangs which they had already inflicted, hisresolution failed him entirely. Forgetting the consequences, and onlyanxious to escape the terrors of the present moment, He made an ampleconfession. He disclosed every circumstance of his guilt, and ownednot merely the crimes with which He was charged, but those of which Hehad never been suspected. Being interrogated as to Matilda's flightwhich had created much confusion, He confessed that She had soldherself to Satan, and that She was indebted to Sorcery for her escape.He still assured his Judges that for his own part He had never enteredinto any compact with the infernal Spirits; But the threat of beingtortured made him declare himself to be a Sorcerer, and Heretic, andwhatever other title the Inquisitors chose to fix upon him. Inconsequence of this avowal, his sentence was immediately pronounced.He was ordered to prepare himself to perish in the Auto da Fe, whichwas to be solemnized at twelve o'clock that night. This hour waschosen from the idea that the horror of the flames being heightened bythe gloom of midnight, the execution would have a greater effect uponthe mind of the People.

  Ambrosio rather dead than alive was left alone in his dungeon. Themoment in which this terrible decree was pronounced had nearly provedthat of his dissolution. He looked forward to the morrow with despair,and his terrors increased with the approach of midnight. Sometimes Hewas buried in gloomy silence: At others He raved with deliriouspassion, wrung his hands, and cursed the hour when He first beheld thelight. In one of these moments his eye rested upon Matilda'smysterious gift. His transports of rage were instantly suspended. Helooked earnestly at the Book; He took it up, but immediately threw itfrom him with horror. He walked rapidly up and down his dungeon: Thenstopped, and again fixed his eyes on the spot where the Book hadfallen. He reflected that here at least was a resource from the fatewhich He dreaded. He stooped, and took it up a second time.

  He remained for some time trembling and irresolute: He longed to trythe charm, yet feared its consequences. The recollection of hissentence at length fixed his indecision. He opened the Volume; but hisagitation was so great that He at first sought in vain for the pagementioned by Matilda. Ashamed of himself, He called all his courage tohis aid. He turned to the seventh leaf. He began to read it aloud;But his eyes frequently wandered from the Book, while He anxiously castthem round in search of the Spirit, whom He wished, yet dreaded tobehold. Still He persisted in his design; and with a voice unassuredand frequent interruptions, He contrived to finish the four first linesof the page.

  They were in a language, whose import was totally unknown to him.

  Scarce had He pronounced the last word when the effects of the charmwere evident. A loud burst of Thunder was heard; The prison shook toits very foundations; A blaze of lightning flashed through the Cell;and in the next moment, borne upon sulphurous whirl-winds, Luciferstood before him a second time. But He came not as when at Matilda'ssummons He borrowed the Seraph's form to deceive Ambrosio. He appearedin all that ugliness which since his fall from heaven had been hisportion: His blasted limbs still bore marks of the Almighty's thunder:A swarthy darkness spread itself ove
r his gigantic form: His hands andfeet were armed with long Talons: Fury glared in his eyes, which mighthave struck the bravest heart with terror: Over his huge shoulderswaved two enormous sable wings; and his hair was supplied by livingsnakes, which twined themselves round his brows with frightfulhissings. In one hand He held a roll of parchment, and in the other aniron pen. Still the lightning flashed around him, and the Thunder withrepeated bursts, seemed to announce the dissolution of Nature.

  Terrified at an Apparition so different from what He had expected,Ambrosio remained gazing upon the Fiend, deprived of the power ofutterance. The Thunder had ceased to roll: Universal silence reignedthrough the dungeon.

  'For what am I summoned hither?' said the Daemon, in a voice whichsulphurous fogs had damped to hoarseness--

  At the sound Nature seemed to tremble: A violent earthquake rocked theground, accompanied by a fresh burst of Thunder, louder and moreappalling than the first.

  Ambrosio was long unable to answer the Daemon's demand.

  'I am condemned to die;' He said with a faint voice, his blood runningcold, while He gazed upon his dreadful Visitor. 'Save me! Bear mefrom hence!'

  'Shall the reward of my services be paid me? Dare you embrace mycause? Will you be mine, body and soul? Are you prepared to renouncehim who made you, and him who died for you? Answer but "Yes" andLucifer is your Slave.'

  'Will no less price content you? Can nothing satisfy you but myeternal ruin? Spirit, you ask too much. Yet convey me from thisdungeon: Be my Servant for one hour, and I will be yours for athousand years. Will not this offer suffice?'

  'It will not. I must have your soul; must have it mine, and mine forever.'

  'Insatiate Daemon, I will not doom myself to endless torments. I willnot give up my hopes of being one day pardoned.'

  'You will not? On what Chimaera rest then your hopes? Short-sightedMortal! Miserable Wretch! Are you not guilty? Are you not infamous inthe eyes of Men and Angels. Can such enormous sins be forgiven? Hopeyou to escape my power? Your fate is already pronounced. The Eternalhas abandoned you; Mine you are marked in the book of destiny, and mineyou must and shall be!'

  'Fiend, 'tis false! Infinite is the Almighty's mercy, and the Penitentshall meet his forgiveness. My crimes are monstrous, but I will notdespair of pardon: Haply, when they have received due chastisement....'

  'Chastisement? Was Purgatory meant for guilt like yours? Hope youthat your offences shall be bought off by prayers of superstitiousdotards and droning Monks? Ambrosio, be wise! Mine you must be: Youare doomed to flames, but may shun them for the present. Sign thisparchment: I will bear you from hence, and you may pass your remainingyears in bliss and liberty. Enjoy your existence: Indulge in everypleasure to which appetite may lead you: But from the moment that itquits your body, remember that your soul belongs to me, and that I willnot be defrauded of my right.'

  The Monk was silent; But his looks declared that the Tempter's wordswere not thrown away. He reflected on the conditions proposed withhorror: On the other hand, He believed himself doomed to perdition andthat, by refusing the Daemon's succour, He only hastened tortures whichHe never could escape. The Fiend saw that his resolution was shaken:He renewed his instances, and endeavoured to fix the Abbot'sindecision. He described the agonies of death in the most terrificcolours; and He worked so powerfully upon Ambrosio's despair and fearsthat He prevailed upon him to receive the Parchment. He then struckthe iron Pen which He held into a vein of the Monk's left hand. Itpierced deep, and was instantly filled with blood; Yet Ambrosio felt nopain from the wound. The Pen was put into his hand: It trembled. TheWretch placed the Parchment on the Table before him, and prepared tosign it. Suddenly He held his hand: He started away hastily, andthrew the Pen upon the table.

  'What am I doing?' He cried--Then turning to the Fiend with a desperateair, 'Leave me! Begone! I will not sign the Parchment.'

  'Fool!' exclaimed the disappointed Daemon, darting looks so furious aspenetrated the Friar's soul with horror; 'Thus am I trifled with? Gothen! Rave in agony, expire in tortures, and then learn the extent ofthe Eternal's mercy! But beware how you make me again your mock! Callme no more till resolved to accept my offers! Summon me a second timeto dismiss me thus idly, and these Talons shall rend you into athousand pieces! Speak yet again; Will you sign the Parchment?'

  'I will not! Leave me! Away!'

  Instantly the Thunder was heard to roll horribly: Once more the earthtrembled with violence: The Dungeon resounded with loud shrieks, andthe Daemon fled with blasphemy and curses.

  At first, the Monk rejoiced at having resisted the Seducer's arts, andobtained a triumph over Mankind's Enemy: But as the hour of punishmentdrew near, his former terrors revived in his heart. Their momentaryrepose seemed to have given them fresh vigour. The nearer that thetime approached, the more did He dread appearing before the Throne ofGod. He shuddered to think how soon He must be plunged into eternity;How soon meet the eyes of his Creator, whom He had so grievouslyoffended. The Bell announced midnight: It was the signal for beingled to the Stake! As He listened to the first stroke, the blood ceasedto circulate in the Abbot's veins: He heard death and torture murmuredin each succeeding sound. He expected to see the Archers entering hisprison; and as the Bell forbore to toll, he seized the magic volume ina fit of despair. He opened it, turned hastily to the seventh page,and as if fearing to allow himself a moment's thought ran over thefatal lines with rapidity. Accompanied by his former terrors, Luciferagain stood before the Trembler.

  'You have summoned me,' said the Fiend; 'Are you determined to be wise?Will you accept my conditions? You know them already. Renounce yourclaim to salvation, make over to me your soul, and I bear you from thisdungeon instantly. Yet is it time. Resolve, or it will be too late.Will you sign the Parchment?'

  'I must!--Fate urges me! I accept your conditions.'

  'Sign the Parchment!' replied the Daemon in an exulting tone.

  The Contract and the bloody Pen still lay upon the Table. Ambrosio drewnear it. He prepared to sign his name. A moment's reflection made himhesitate.

  'Hark!' cried the Tempter; 'They come! Be quick! Sign the Parchment,and I bear you from hence this moment.'

  In effect, the Archers were heard approaching, appointed to leadAmbrosio to the Stake. The sound encouraged the Monk in his resolution.

  'What is the import of this writing?' said He.

  'It makes your soul over to me for ever, and without reserve.'

  'What am I to receive in exchange?'

  'My protection, and release from this dungeon. Sign it, and thisinstant I bear you away.'

  Ambrosio took up the Pen; He set it to the Parchment. Again his couragefailed him: He felt a pang of terror at his heart, and once more threwthe Pen upon the Table.

  'Weak and Puerile!' cried the exasperated Fiend: 'Away with this folly!Sign the writing this instant, or I sacrifice you to my rage!'

  At this moment the bolt of the outward Door was drawn back. ThePrisoner heard the rattling of Chains; The heavy Bar fell; The Archerswere on the point of entering. Worked up to phrenzy by the urgentdanger, shrinking from the approach of death, terrified by the Daemon'sthreats, and seeing no other means to escape destruction, the wretchedMonk complied. He signed the fatal contract, and gave it hastily intothe evil Spirit's hands, whose eyes, as He received the gift, glaredwith malicious rapture.

  'Take it!' said the God-abandoned; 'Now then save me! Snatch me fromhence!'

  'Hold! Do you freely and absolutely renounce your Creator and his Son?'

  'I do! I do!'

  'Do you make over your soul to me for ever?'

  'For ever!'

  'Without reserve or subterfuge? Without future appeal to the divinemercy?'

  The last Chain fell from the door of the prison: The key was heardturning in the Lock: Already the iron door grated heavily upon itsrusty hinges.

  'I am yours for ever and irrevocably!' cried the Monk wild w
ith terror:'I abandon all claim to salvation! I own no power but yours! Hark!Hark! They come! Oh! save me! Bear me away!'

  'I have triumphed! You are mine past reprieve, and I fulfil mypromise.'

  While He spoke, the Door unclosed. Instantly the Daemon grasped one ofAmbrosio's arms, spread his broad pinions, and sprang with him into theair. The roof opened as they soared upwards, and closed again whenthey had quitted the Dungeon.

  In the meanwhile, the Gaoler was thrown into the utmost surprize by thedisappearance of his Prisoner. Though neither He nor the Archers werein time to witness the Monk's escape, a sulphurous smell prevailingthrough the prison sufficiently informed them by whose aid He had beenliberated. They hastened to make their report to the Grand Inquisitor.The story, how a Sorcerer had been carried away by the Devil, was soonnoised about Madrid; and for some days the whole City was employed indiscussing the subject. Gradually it ceased to be the topic ofconversation: Other adventures arose whose novelty engaged universalattention; and Ambrosio was soon forgotten as totally, as if He neverhad existed. While this was passing, the Monk supported by hisinfernal guide, traversed the air with the rapidity of an arrow, and afew moments placed him upon a Precipice's brink, the steepest in SierraMorena.

  Though rescued from the Inquisition, Ambrosio as yet was insensible ofthe blessings of liberty. The damning contract weighed heavy upon hismind; and the scenes in which He had been a principal actor had leftbehind them such impressions as rendered his heart the seat of anarchyand confusion. The Objects now before his eyes, and which the fullMoon sailing through clouds permitted him to examine, wereill-calculated to inspire that calm, of which He stood so much in need.The disorder of his imagination was increased by the wildness of thesurrounding scenery; By the gloomy Caverns and steep rocks, risingabove each other, and dividing the passing clouds; solitary clusters ofTrees scattered here and there, among whose thick-twined branches thewind of night sighed hoarsely and mournfully; the shrill cry ofmountain Eagles, who had built their nests among these lonely Desarts;the stunning roar of torrents, as swelled by late rains they rushedviolently down tremendous precipices; and the dark waters of a silentsluggish stream which faintly reflected the moonbeams, and bathed theRock's base on which Ambrosio stood. The Abbot cast round him a lookof terror. His infernal Conductor was still by his side, and eyed himwith a look of mingled malice, exultation, and contempt.

  'Whither have you brought me?' said the Monk at length in an hollowtrembling voice: 'Why am I placed in this melancholy scene? Bear mefrom it quickly! Carry me to Matilda!'

  The Fiend replied not, but continued to gaze upon him in silence.

  Ambrosio could not sustain his glance; He turned away his eyes, whilethus spoke the Daemon:

  'I have him then in my power! This model of piety! This being withoutreproach! This Mortal who placed his puny virtues on a level withthose of Angels. He is mine! Irrevocably, eternally mine! Companionsof my sufferings! Denizens of hell! How grateful will be my present!'

  He paused; then addressed himself to the Monk----

  'Carry you to Matilda?' He continued, repeating Ambrosio's words:

  'Wretch! you shall soon be with her! You well deserve a place near her,for hell boasts no miscreant more guilty than yourself.

  Hark, Ambrosio, while I unveil your crimes! You have shed the blood oftwo innocents; Antonia and Elvira perished by your hand. That Antoniawhom you violated, was your Sister! That Elvira whom you murdered, gaveyou birth! Tremble, abandoned Hypocrite! Inhuman Parricide! IncestuousRavisher! Tremble at the extent of your offences! And you it was whothought yourself proof against temptation, absolved from humanfrailties, and free from error and vice! Is pride then a virtue? Isinhumanity no fault? Know, vain Man! That I long have marked you formy prey: I watched the movements of your heart; I saw that you werevirtuous from vanity, not principle, and I seized the fit moment ofseduction. I observed your blind idolatry of the Madona's picture. Ibad a subordinate but crafty spirit assume a similar form, and youeagerly yielded to the blandishments of Matilda. Your pride wasgratified by her flattery; Your lust only needed an opportunity tobreak forth; You ran into the snare blindly, and scrupled not to commita crime which you blamed in another with unfeeling severity. It was Iwho threw Matilda in your way; It was I who gave you entrance toAntonia's chamber; It was I who caused the dagger to be given you whichpierced your Sister's bosom; and it was I who warned Elvira in dreamsof your designs upon her Daughter, and thus, by preventing yourprofiting by her sleep, compelled you to add rape as well as incest tothe catalogue of your crimes. Hear, hear, Ambrosio! Had you resistedme one minute longer, you had saved your body and soul. The guards whomyou heard at your prison door came to signify your pardon. But I hadalready triumphed: My plots had already succeeded. Scarcely could Ipropose crimes so quick as you performed them. You are mine, andHeaven itself cannot rescue you from my power. Hope not that yourpenitence will make void our contract. Here is your bond signed withyour blood; You have given up your claim to mercy, and nothing canrestore to you the rights which you have foolishly resigned. Believeyou that your secret thoughts escaped me? No, no, I read them all!You trusted that you should still have time for repentance. I saw yourartifice, knew its falsity, and rejoiced in deceiving the deceiver!You are mine beyond reprieve: I burn to possess my right, and aliveyou quit not these mountains.'

  During the Daemon's speech, Ambrosio had been stupefied by terror andsurprize. This last declaration rouzed him.

  'Not quit these mountains alive?' He exclaimed: 'Perfidious, what meanyou? Have you forgotten our contract?'

  The Fiend answered by a malicious laugh:

  'Our contract? Have I not performed my part? What more did I promisethan to save you from your prison? Have I not done so? Are you notsafe from the Inquisition--safe from all but from me? Fool that youwere to confide yourself to a Devil! Why did you not stipulate forlife, and power, and pleasure? Then all would have been granted: Now,your reflections come too late. Miscreant, prepare for death; You havenot many hours to live!'

  On hearing this sentence, dreadful were the feelings of the devotedWretch! He sank upon his knees, and raised his hands towards heaven.The Fiend read his intention and prevented it--

  'What?' He cried, darting at him a look of fury: 'Dare you stillimplore the Eternal's mercy? Would you feign penitence, and again actan Hypocrite's part? Villain, resign your hopes of pardon. Thus Isecure my prey!'

  As He said this, darting his talons into the Monk's shaven crown, Hesprang with him from the rock. The Caves and mountains rang withAmbrosio's shrieks. The Daemon continued to soar aloft, till reaching adreadful height, He released the sufferer. Headlong fell the Monkthrough the airy waste; The sharp point of a rock received him; and Herolled from precipice to precipice, till bruised and mangled He restedon the river's banks. Life still existed in his miserable frame: Heattempted in vain to raise himself; His broken and dislocated limbsrefused to perform their office, nor was He able to quit the spot whereHe had first fallen. The Sun now rose above the horizon; Its scorchingbeams darted full upon the head of the expiring Sinner. Myriads ofinsects were called forth by the warmth; They drank the blood whichtrickled from Ambrosio's wounds; He had no power to drive them fromhim, and they fastened upon his sores, darted their stings into hisbody, covered him with their multitudes, and inflicted on him torturesthe most exquisite and insupportable. The Eagles of the rock tore hisflesh piecemeal, and dug out his eyeballs with their crooked beaks. Aburning thirst tormented him; He heard the river's murmur as it rolledbeside him, but strove in vain to drag himself towards the sound.Blind, maimed, helpless, and despairing, venting his rage in blasphemyand curses, execrating his existence, yet dreading the arrival of deathdestined to yield him up to greater torments, six miserable days didthe Villain languish. On the Seventh a violent storm arose: The windsin fury rent up rocks and forests: The sky was now black with clouds,now sheeted with fire: The rain fell in torrents; It swelled
thestream; The waves overflowed their banks; They reached the spot whereAmbrosio lay, and when they abated carried with them into the river theCorse of the despairing Monk.