Garden. It was now my turn to refuse. I protested that however
dangerous might be the consequences, I would not leave her till
She had heard my justification. I assured her that She had been
deceived by the artifices of her Relations; that I could convince
her beyond the power of doubt that my passion had been pure and
disinterested; and I asked her what should induce me to seek her
in the Convent, were I influenced by the selfish motives which my
Enemies had ascribed to me.
My prayers, my arguments, and vows not to quit her, till She had
promised to listen to me, united to her fears lest the Nuns
should see me with her, to her natural curiosity, and to the
effection which She still felt for me in spite of my supposed
desertion, at length prevailed. She told me that to grant my
request at that moment was impossible; But She engaged to be in
the same spot at eleven that night, and to converse with me for
the last time. Having obtained this promise I released her hand,
and She fled back with rapidity towards the Convent.
I communicated my success to my Ally, the old Gardener: He
pointed out an hiding place where I might shelter myself till
night without fear of a discovery. Thither I betook myself at
the hour when I ought to have retired with my supposed Master,
and waited impatiently for the appointed time. The chillness of
the night was in my favour, since it kept the other Nuns confined
to their Cells. Agnes alone was insensible of the inclemency of
the Air, and before eleven joined me at the spot which had
witnessed our former interview. Secure from interruption, I
related to her the true cause of my disappearing on the fatal
fifth of May. She was evidently much affected by my narrative:
When it was concluded, She confessed the injustice of her
suspicions, and blamed herself for having taken the veil through
despair at my ingratitude.
'But now it is too late to repine!' She added; 'The die is
thrown: I have pronounced my vows, and dedicated myself to the
service of heaven. I am sensible, how ill I am calculated for a
Convent. My disgust at a monastic life increases daily: Ennui
and discontent are my constant Companions; and I will not conceal
from you that the passion which I formerly felt for one so near
being my Husband is not yet extinguished in my bosom. But we
must part! Insuperable Barriers divide us from each other, and
on this side the Grave we must never meet again!'
I now exerted myself to prove that our union was not so
impossible as She seemed to think it. I vaunted to her the
Cardinal-Duke of Lerma's influence at the Court of Rome: I
assured her that I should easily obtain a dispensation from her
vows; and I doubted not but Don Gaston would coincide with my
views, when informed of my real name and long attachment. Agnes
replied that since I encouraged such an hope, I could know but
little of her Father. Liberal and kind in every other respect,
Superstition formed the only stain upon his character. Upon this
head He was inflexible; He sacrificed his dearest interests to
his scruples, and would consider it an insult to suppose him
capable of authorising his daughter to break her vows to heaven.
'But suppose,' said I interrupting her; 'Suppose that He should
disapprove of our union; Let him remain ignorant of my
proceedings, till I have rescued you from the prison in which
you are now confined. Once my Wife, you are free from his
authority: I need from him no pecuniary assistance; and when He
sees his resentment to be unavailing, He will doubtless restore
you to his favour. But let the worst happen; Should Don Gaston
be irreconcileable, my Relations will vie with each other in
making you forget his loss: and you will find in my Father a
substitute for the Parent of whom I shall deprive you.'
'Don Raymond,' replied Agnes in a firm and resolute voice, 'I
love my Father: He has treated me harshly in this one instance;
but I have received from him in every other so many proofs of
love that his affection is become necessary to my existence.
Were I to quit the Convent, He never would forgive me; nor can I
think that on his deathbed He would leave me his curse, without
shuddering at the very idea. Besides, I am conscious myself,
that my vows are binding: Wilfully did I contract my engagement
with heaven; I cannot break it without a crime. Then banish from
your mind the idea of our being ever united. I am devoted to
religion; and however I may grieve at our separation, I would
oppose obstacles myself, to what I feel would render me guilty.'
I strove to overrule these ill-grounded scruples: We were still
disputing upon the subject, when the Convent Bell summoned the
Nuns to Matins. Agnes was obliged to attend them; But She left
me not till I had compelled her to promise that on the following
night She would be at the same place at the same hour. These
meetings continued for several Weeks uninterrupted; and 'tis now,
Lorenzo, that I must implore your indulgence. Reflect upon our
situation, our youth, our long attachment: Weigh all the
circumstances which attended our assignations, and you will
confess the temptation to have been irresistible; you will even
pardon me when I acknowledge, that in an unguarded moment, the
honour of Agnes was sacrificed to my passion.'
(Lorenzo's eyes sparkled with fury: A deep crimson spread itself
over his face. He started from his seat, and attempted to draw
his sword. The Marquis was aware of his movement, and caught his
hand: He pressed it affectionately.
'My Friend! My Brother! Hear me to the conclusion! Till then
restrain your passion, and be at least convinced, that if what I
have related is criminal, the blame must fall upon me, and not
upon your Sister.'
Lorenzo suffered himself to be prevailed upon by Don Raymond's
entreaties. He resumed his place, and listened to the rest of
the narrative with a gloomy and impatient countenance. The
Marquis thus continued.)
'Scarcely was the first burst of passion past when Agnes,
recovering herself, started from my arms with horror. She called
me infamous Seducer, loaded me with the bitterest reproaches, and
beat her bosom in all the wildness of delirium. Ashamed of my
imprudence, I with difficulty found words to excuse myself. I
endeavoured to console her; I threw myself at her feet, and
entreated her forgiveness. She forced her hand from me, which I
had taken, and would have prest to my lips.
'Touch me not!' She cried with a violence which terrified me;
'Monster of perfidy and ingratitude, how have I been deceived in
you! I looked upon you as my Friend, my Protector: I trusted
myself in your hands with confidence, and relying upon your
honour, thought that mine ran no risque. And 'tis by you, whom I
adored, that I am covered with infamy! 'Tis by you that I have
been seduced into breaking my vows to God, that I am reduced to a
level with the basest of my sex! Shame upon you, Villain, you
shall never see me more!'
She started from the Bank on which She was seated. I endeavoured
to detain her; But She disengaged herself from me with violence,
and took refuge in the Convent.
I retired, filled with confusion and inquietude. The next
morning I failed not as usual to appear in the Garden; but Agnes
was no where to be seen. At night I waited for her at the place
where we generally met; I found no better success. Several days
and nights passed away in the same manner. At length I saw my
offended Mistress cross the walk on whose borders I was working:
She was accompanied by the same young Pensioner, on whose arm She
seemed from weakness obliged to support herself. She looked upon
me for a moment, but instantly turned her head away. I waited
her return; But She passed on to the Convent without paying any
attention to me, or the penitent looks with which I implored her
forgiveness.
As soon as the Nuns were retired, the old Gardener joined me with
a sorrowful air.
'Segnor,' said He, 'it grieves me to say, that I can be no longer
of use to you. The Lady whom you used to meet has just assured
me that if I admitted you again into the Garden, She would
discover the whole business to the Lady Prioress. She bade me
tell you also, that your presence was an insult, and that if you
still possess the least respect for her, you will never attempt
to see her more. Excuse me then for informing you that I can
favour your disguise no longer. Should the Prioress be
acquainted with my conduct, She might not be contented with
dismissing me her service: Out of revenge She might accuse me of
having profaned the Convent, and cause me to be thrown into the
Prisons of the Inquisition.'
Fruitless were my attempts to conquer his resolution. He denied
me all future entrance into the Garden, and Agnes persevered in
neither letting me see or hear from her. In about a fortnight
after, a violent illness which had seized my Father obliged me to
set out for Andalusia. I hastened thither, and as I imagined,
found the Marquis at the point of death. Though on its first
appearance his complaint was declared mortal, He lingered out
several Months; during which my attendance upon him during his
malady, and the occupation of settling his affairs after his
decease, permitted not my quitting Andalusia. Within these four
days I returned to Madrid, and on arriving at my Hotel, I there
found this letter waiting for me.
(Here the Marquis unlocked the drawer of a Cabinet: He took out a
folded paper, which He presented to his Auditor. Lorenzo opened
it, and recognised his Sister's hand. The Contents were as
follows.
Into what an abyss of misery have you plunged me! Raymond, you
force me to become as criminal as yourself. I had resolved never
to see you more; if possible, to forget you; If not, only to
remember you with hate. A Being for whom I already feel a
Mother's tenderness, solicits me to pardon my Seducer, and apply
to his love for the means of preservation. Raymond, your child
lives in my bosom. I tremble at the vengeance of the Prioress; I
tremble much for myself, yet more for the innocent Creature whose
existence depends upon mine. Both of us are lost, should my
situation be discovered. Advise me then what steps to take, but
seek not to see me. The Gardener, who undertakes to deliver
this, is dismissed, and we have nothing to hope from that
quarter: The Man engaged in his place is of incorruptible
fidelity. The best means of conveying to me your answer, is by
concealing it under the great Statue of St. Francis, which stands
in the Capuchin Cathedral. Thither I go every Thursday to
confession, and shall easily have an opportunity of securing your
letter. I hear that you are now absent from Madrid; Need I
entreat you to write the very moment of your return? I will not
think it. Ah! Raymond! Mine is a cruel situation! Deceived by
my nearest Relations, compelled to embrace a profession the
duties of which I am ill-calculated to perform, conscious of the
sanctity of those duties, and seduced into violating them by One
whom I least suspected of perfidy, I am now obliged by
circumstances to chuse between death and perjury. Woman's
timidity, and maternal affection, permit me not to balance in the
choice. I feel all the guilt into which I plunge myself, when I
yield to the plan which you before proposed to me. My poor
Father's death which has taken place since we met, has removed
one obstacle. He sleeps in his grave, and I no longer dread his
anger. But from the anger of God, Oh! Raymond! who shall shield
me? Who can protect me against my conscience, against myself? I
dare not dwell upon these thoughts; They will drive me mad. I
have taken my resolution: Procure a dispensation from my vows; I
am ready to fly with you. Write to me, my Husband! Tell me,
that absence has not abated your love, tell me that you will
rescue from death your unborn Child, and its unhappy Mother. I
live in all the agonies of terror: Every eye which is fixed upon
me seems to read my secret and my shame. And you are the cause
of those agonies! Oh! When my heart first loved you, how little
did it suspect you of making it feel such pangs!
Agnes.
Having perused the letter, Lorenzo restored it in silence. The
Marquis replaced it in the Cabinet, and then proceeded.)
'Excessive was my joy at reading this intelligence so
earnestly-desired, so little expected. My plan was soon
arranged. When Don Gaston discovered to me his Daughter's
retreat, I entertained no doubt of her readiness to quit the
Convent: I had, therefore, entrusted the Cardinal-Duke of Lerma
with the whole affair, who immediately busied himself in
obtaining the necessary Bull. Fortunately I had afterwards
neglected to stop his proceedings. Not long since I received a
letter from him, stating that He expected daily to receive the
order from the Court of Rome. Upon this I would willingly have
relyed: But the Cardinal wrote me word, that I must find some
means of conveying Agnes out of the Convent, unknown to the
Prioress. He doubted not but this Latter would be much incensed
by losing a Person of such high rank from her society, and
consider the renunciation of Agnes as an insult to her House. He
represented her as a Woman of a violent and revengeful character,
capable of proceeding to the greatest extremities. It was
therefore to be feared, lest by confining Agnes in the Convent
She should frustrate my hopes, and render the Pope's mandate
unavailing. Influenced by this consideration, I resolved to
carry off my Mistress, and conceal her till the arrival of the
expected Bull in the Cardinal-Duke's Estate. He approved of my
design, and profest himself ready to give a shelter to the
Fugitive. I next caused the new Gardener of St. Clare to be
seized privately, and confined in my Hotel. By this means I
became Master of the Key to the Garden door, and I had now
nothing more to do than prepare Agnes for the elopement. This
was done by the letter, which you saw me deliver this Evening. I
told her in it, that I should be ready to receive her at twelve
tomorrow night, that I had secured the Key of the Garden, and
that She might depend upon a speedy release.
You have now, Lorenzo, heard the whole of my long narrative. I
have nothing to say in my excuse, save that my intentions towards
your Sister have been ever the most honourable: That it has
always been, and still is my design to make her my Wife: And
that I trust, when you consider these circumstances, our youth,
and our attachment, you will not only forgive our momentary lapse
from virtue, but will aid me in repairing my faults to Agnes, and
securing a lawful title to her person and her heart.
CHAPTER II
O You! whom Vanity's light bark conveys
On Fame's mad voyage by the wind of praise,
With what a shifting gale your course you ply,
For ever sunk too low, or borne too high!
Who pants for glory finds but short repose,
A breath revives him, and a breath o'er-throws.
Pope.
Here the Marquis concluded his adventures. Lorenzo, before He
could determine on his reply, past some moments in reflection.
At length He broke silence.
'Raymond,' said He taking his hand, 'strict honour would oblige
me to wash off in your blood the stain thrown upon my family; But
the circumstances of your case forbid me to consider you as an
Enemy. The temptation was too great to be resisted. 'Tis the
superstition of my Relations which has occasioned these
misfortunes, and they are more the Offenders than yourself and
Agnes. What has past between you cannot be recalled, but may yet
be repaired by uniting you to my Sister. You have ever been, you
still continue to be, my dearest and indeed my only Friend. I
feel for Agnes the truest affection, and there is no one on whom
I would bestow her more willingly than on yourself. Pursue then
your design. I will accompany you tomorrow night, and conduct
her myself to the House of the Cardinal. My presence will be a
sanction for her conduct, and prevent her incurring blame by her
flight from the Convent.'
The Monk - A Romance Page 21
