"'Impossible!' cried Geraldine, whilst the deadly paleness of her cheek proved that her heart felt not the doubt her tongue implied.
"'He raves,' said the Earl.
"'Alas! (exclaimed the monk) I fear he utters a fatal truth. Be explicit (continued he, laying his hand upon my head), and sport not with the feelings of your friends.'
"He raised me to a seat. He again urged me to speak; and in faltering accents I began my tale of horror. As I ended it, Geraldine dropped, to all appearance lifeless, at my feet. I threw myself beside her. 'Oh, Philippe! (I cried) is the life of my wife required as an expiation of my crime?'
"Her wretched father hung over her.—'She dies! (said he); childless and forlorn I am doomed to descend to the grave!'
"The monk was alone collected; he raised her from the ground, and chafed her hands and temples; in a few minutes she showed signs of returning life. At length she opened her eyes: I was the first object they fell upon. 'Unhappy man! (she sighed) how could you doubt me?'
"Thus humbly kneeling, let me implore forgiveness for doing so (said I). Oh! amply, amply shall you be avenged; I fly this instant to throw myself into the arms of offended justice; and, by an ignominious death, atone for my wrongs to you and Philippe."
"'And destroy your wife and her unborn infant,' cried she.
"This was the first time I had heard there was a prospect of my becoming a father; an idea of the felicity which but a few days before I should have received from such an intimation rushed upon my mind; and I sunk groaning to the earth at the contrast I now drew between it and my present feelings.
"'Do not, by yielding to this wretchedness (said the monk), aggravate the misery of your wife and her father; 'tis the guilty heart, not the guilty hand, my son (proceeded he, trying to compose my mind), which merits the vengeance of heaven; your hand, not your heart, is guilty: the vilest arts could alone have turned it against your brother; and upon the contriver of such diabolical schemes, his blood must certainly rest; compose yourself, therefore, and you may again experience some degree of happiness.'
"I started up; 'repeat that word no more (cried I with fierceness); happiness and I must henceforth be as distant from each other as heaven and hell.'
"'Promise (said Geraldine kneeling before me, and laying her cold and trembling hands upon me), promise that you will be guided by the holy father, and try to save a life upon which mine depends.'
"I snatched her to my breast. And can you wish to have the being saved (I asked), who doubted your purity?—Ah! surely the severest punishment is not more than he merits for having done so: yet, as you desire, he will act; here my friends (I continued, relinquishing her), I stand, the veriest wretch upon earth; death would be a release from torture; but do with me as you please; as you wish, I will either try to live, or prepare to die.'
"'My son (said the monk), you must retire immediately to your chamber: night draws on apace; as soon as it is dark, I will repair to you, and inform you of the plan I have conceived for your avoiding the treachery by which I fear you are surrounded.'
"'May I not accompany him?' said Geraldine, catching my hand as he was leading me from the room.
"'No; I wish for your presence in order to consult with you as to the best mode of securing his safety.' This reason for preventing her attendance conquered all opposition.
"I shall not dwell upon the minutes I passed alone. The monk came according to his promise as soon as it was dark; he opened the door softly, and held a glimmering lamp in his hand. 'Follow me, my son,' said he.
"I implicitly obeyed, and pursued his cautious steps through winding passages, and down innumerable descents of steps. At length we stopped, and I found myself in a spacious and gloomy vault.
"'Have you changed your mind (demanded I, after looking round me for a minute); have you at last thought me deserving of punishment, and brought me hither as to a prison.'
"'You wrong me by the supposition (said he); I have brought you to this vault but to secure you from danger; your destruction I have no doubt was intended as well as your brother's; the motive for such an intention I cannot conceive, nor perhaps may never be able to discover. Blanche has disappeared: I have every reason to believe she has joined that villain Claude. The moment I returned from your chamber, I sent for her, determined on trying to extort from her a confession of her guilt, but she was just gone out. On hearing this, I directly repaired to her father, a simple shepherd, long known to me, and one whom I have ever found conscientiously just in all his dealings. I enquired for his daughter; he had not seen her the whole day he said. I then in a careless manner asked him if he knew a person of the name of Claude?—No, he instantly replied.
"'From his cottage I hastened to the valley where you said your brother had fallen; but the body was gone. Struck by a circumstance so strange, I stood as it were transfixed to the spot for a few minutes; at last I was turning away, when deep groans pierced my ear, and made me again pause.'
"As the monk uttered those words, I shrieked aloud—'Oh, God! (I cried), is it possible?—could I be mistaken?—does Philippe live?'
"The monk shook his head; 'would to heaven he did! (said he). But to proceed; the shades of night fell thick around me, and prevented my seeing to any distance; the groans still continued;—in the name of God (cried I), I conjure you, whoever you are, from whom those groans proceed, to speak, and direct me to your assistance.'
"'Ah! father (said a voice, which I instantly recollected to be that of Lafroy, your brother's valet) heaven surely sent you hither.'
"Directed by his voice, I went up to him and found him sitting behind a low mound at a little distance from the spot on which I had first heard him. I enquired into the cause of his present situation; he burst into tears—'Ah! father (said he), do you not know what has happened? do you not know of the horrid murder that has been committed?—Ah! who could have thought that the hand of a brother could have perpetrated so cruel a deed!'
"'I was wounded to the heart (said the monk) at hearing he was acquainted with the dreadful affair. I asked him what he knew concerning it.'
"'I left the castle (answered he), a considerable time before my Lord, in order to apprise the nurse of his intended visit to the child. Tired at last of waiting for him, or rather apprehensive, from his long stay, that he was taken ill, and could not come, I was returning to the castle to terminate my suspense, when, in this very spot, I was suddenly stopped by surprise at seeing Monsieur Lausane a few yards before me, with a dagger in his hand, and an expression of the most violent rage in his face. I will not deny that I was panic-struck and unable to move even when I saw my Lord approaching. Oh! never shall I cease to regret my want of courage; though, alas! nothing but the greatest, the quickest exertion of it could have saved his life; for scarcely had his brother cast his eyes upon him, ere he stabbed him to the heart! Horror overcame me at that instant, and I fainted away, nor recovered my senses till a few minutes ago: when I recovered, I had not however power, or rather resolution to move; I feared beholding or stumbling over the body of my dear and murdered Lord.'
"'I dreaded Lafroy's testimony against you (continued the monk); I therefore endeavoured to extenuate your conduct, and excite his pity by relating the artifices which had been practised on you. What I said had the desired effect; he no longer, he declared, considered you guilty, and, of his own accord, took a solemn oath never to give information against you.
"'I asked him whether he had any knowledge of Claude, and also whether he did not think his brother in league with him? He had no personal knowledge of the villain, he replied; all he knew concerning him was that he was a vine-dresser, who lived a little way from his brother's cottage. As to his brother, in the most impassioned manner he protested a heart more noble, more humane than his never lodged within a breast; consequently it could not be supposed he had entered into so horrible a plot.
"'I enquired whether he could form any conjecture about the first contrivers of it? None, he replied in a solemn
manner. I then told him of my not being able to find the body: this renewed his grief, and by the first dawn of day, he said he would endeavour to discover it. As to Claude, he agreed with me there was little probability of any search after him being successful.
"'I bid him return to the cottage, nor come to the castle unless sent for. I think his fidelity may be depended on; but I shall not put it to the test by entrusting him with your situation.
"'The domestics are at present ignorant of the cause of your disorder, as well as of the death of your brother; there is no doubt but what they will soon be acquainted with the latter—they may then perhaps suspect the former; there is no knowing how they would act. I shall therefore, as soon as I leave you, inform them that you have been compelled to quit the castle, in order to attend a most particular friend to Italy; this will change the search, should one be made after you.'
"'But think you not (cried I), that death would be preferable to a confinement here, which will deprive me of the society of all I love?'
"'Your confinement here will not subject you to such a loss (he replied); a constant intercourse can easily be kept up between you and your Geraldine; and every thing that can possibly be brought hither for the purpose of adding to your comfort, shall be conveyed by me; the castle-vaults communicate with those belonging to the monastery—I shall therefore have free access at all times to you.'
"I shall no longer dwell upon the conversation that passed between us, neither upon the agonies I fell into on being left alone; pity for Geraldine only prevented me from dashing my desperate brains out.
"The next day the monk came to me sooner than I expected. 'Alas! (exclaimed he as he advanced), the unhappy father of your wife has not yet drained the cup of misery!' I thought of no sorrow but that which the death of Geraldine could occasion. Starting, therefore, I wrung my hands, and cried—'She is dead! my wife is dead, and I have murdered her!'
"'No (replied he), 'tis not his Geraldine, but the babe of his departed Elenora he has lost.
"'On coming to the castle this morning, I was surprised to see Lafroy just entering the hall before me. I accosted him in rather an angry tone, and asked what had brought him to it without my permission? He soon assigned a sufficient reason for his unexpected appearance. On returning to the cottage, he said he had thrown himself across a bed, where, overcome by grief and fatigue, towards morning he had fallen asleep. 'From my repose (he continued), I was soon roused by piercing shrieks; I instantly jumped up, and darted into the outside room, from whence they proceeded. Here I found the woman of the house alone, and almost in a state of distraction. It was some time ere she could speak and explain the cause of her disorder: at length she said the infant she had received from the castle was stolen whilst she was out milking her goats. That Claude was the author of this new misfortune I could not doubt; and I deemed it my duty to lose no time in informing the Earl of what had happened.'
"'Alas! (resumed the monk) it was a heavy stroke to him; through the child he hoped to have received some little consolation for the death of the mother. This very day it was his intention to have written to the Marquis of Montmorenci to acquaint him with the marriage of his son, and implore his protection for the offspring of it; an intention he has now laid aside as unnecessary, except the child is found, to search for whom I have dispatched some agents I can depend upon. The death of your brother is now known throughout the castle; I invented a plausible story for Lafroy to repeat, which he did with little hesitation; and it is believed that your brother fell by the hand of a ruffian belonging to one of the numerous gangs of banditti which infest these mountains. Lafroy sets out this day for the castle of Montmorenci; and has solemnly promised to adhere to my instructions in announcing the death of his lamented master.'
"I asked the monk whether the body of the unfortunate Philippe had been discovered?—he replied in the negative.
"What he told me, if possible, increased my anguish. I then enquired when I should behold my Geraldine?—'At night,' he replied. I counted the tedious moments till she appeared. Ah! how pale, how languid, how different from the Geraldine I had left! She wept bitterly in my arms. 'Oh! my love, (I exclaimed), your tears distract me: yet I cannot wonder at your shedding them; you have reason indeed to weep the hard fate which united you to a murderer!'
"'Ah! never, Lausane (said she), shall I lament the fate which bound me to you. Exclusive of your misfortunes, have I not reason to weep for the loss of my Elenora—the sister of my love—the sweet play-fellow of my infancy—the dear, the inestimable friend of my youth? Oh! Lausane, the most exalted prosperity with you could not have silenced my grief on her account.'
"A month passed away without any incident occurring to alarm my friends, and without any determination being formed relative to my future destiny. At the expiration of that time, the monk came to me one night at a very late hour; his countenance was disordered, and for a few minutes he could not speak.
"'My son (said he at length), 'tis well that we took the precautions we did.'
"What has happened?" demanded I eagerly.
"'To-night (resumed he), as I was returning to the monastery, I heard, from behind a low rock which lies at a little distance from the castle, a low murmur of voices. I paused and listened, for I thought I distinguished your name: I was not mistaken; in about a minute after I stopped, it was repeated. I then crept to the spot determined to run every risk rather than not try to discover any plot that might be forming against you. As I approached, I beheld two men, from whom a projection of the rock concealed me.
"'To Italy (said one of them), you say he is gone.'—''Tis so reported,' replied the other. 'Well, it shall be my business (again spoke the first), to discover what foundation there is for that report;—earth shall be searched for Lausane; for, whilst he lives, my wishes can never be accomplished.'
"'They then walked away (continued the monk), and I hastened back to the castle to consult with your wife and her father about you. We soon agreed that a report of your death could alone, in all probability, save your life. I shall therefore send a young man, whom I can depend upon, to-morrow to the castle, for the purpose of declaring that you are no more. He shall say that in a small town in Italy, from whence he is just returned, he met you; that shortly after that meeting, you were taken ill; and, knowing whither he was bound, in your last moments had requested him to call upon your family, and inform them of your fate.
"'This report will put a stop to all enquiries; and, as soon as your Geraldine has lain in, I will assist you in escaping with her to a part of the world where there can be no fear of your ever being discovered. To prevent any suspicion, Geraldine is to declare a resolution of renouncing the world as soon as her child is born; and, under the pretext of entering a cloister, she is to quit the castle: when settled in the manner you wish, the Earl and the infant are to follow.'
"I attempted not to oppose the scheme of the monk; any scheme, indeed, which flattered me with a hope of again enjoying the company of my Geraldine without interruption, was to me acceptable. 'Tis unnecessary to say the anxiety with which she longed for my release from confinement—a confinement which she endeavoured to soften by the most unremitting attentions. Oh! with what agony have I gazed upon this matchless woman in my dreary dungeon! pale, weeping, emaciated, sinking with horror, yet trying to conceal it! Oh! surely the wretch extended upon the rack could not have felt greater tortures than I at those moments experienced.
"The period now arrived for making me a father: my Geraldine did not come near me one entire day, and my heart throbbed with tumultuous fears on her account. The monk came at night; with an eagerness which shook my frame, I enquired for her. 'She is well (said he), but the Earl is indisposed; and, without exciting suspicion in the servants, she could not leave him:'—this excuse pacified me. Another day arrived without bringing her; two more followed, and still I saw her not. I then again began to be alarmed: 'I have been deceived I fear (said I); if Geraldine was well, she would surely have con
trived some method for seeing me: to-night, though I rush into the arms of destruction by doing so, I will terminate my suspense.'
"Accordingly as soon as the monk came, I told him my determination of seeing her; he looked shocked, and endeavoured to oppose it; I hastily interrupted him—'No (cried I), I am resolved this night to know whether or not I have been deceived.' As I spoke, I rushed by him; and, with a velocity which mocked pursuit, fled through the intricate passages of the castle, nor stopped till I reached the chamber of Geraldine, which I gained without meeting with a being. I flung open the door—Ah, heavens what a sight presented itself! on the bed lay the lifeless body of Geraldine, already prepared for the grave, and bending over it the almost equally lifeless form of her father! For a minute I stood motionless; then shivering, shrieking with despair, I sprung to the bed, and fell fainting upon the clay-cold bosom of my love!—Short was the privation of my misery. When I revived, I found myself supported by the monk. I shall not attempt to describe the extravagancy of my grief, nor repeat the frantic reproaches I uttered at the deception practised on me. 'Oh! cruel, cruel (I cried), to deny me a last embrace! had the last beam of her eye fallen upon me—had her last sigh been breathed in my arms, I should not have been so wretched!'
"'Mistaken idea! (said the monk); your wretchedness must have been augmented by witnessing the agonies of a creature so beloved. It was by her command alone any deception was practised on you. She knew her danger from the moment she lay in; and she knew, if acquainted with it, you would have insisted on seeing her. She charged me, therefore, not to acquaint you with her fate till her interment had taken place. And she charged me also to tell you, that if the love you professed for her was sincere, you would endeavour to combat your affliction, in order to support her father, and supply to her infant the loss she would sustain by her death.'
"'Does my child then live?' said I.
"'Yes (replied the monk); Providence is kind, and still reserves some blessings for you; forfeit them not by murmuring at its decrees. Look at that miserable old man (continued he, pointing to the Earl), and learn from him a lesson of submission to the will of the Almighty. Think you the anguish which wrings the heart of a husband can exceed that which rends the bosom of a parent? no—believe me it cannot: and yet, notwithstanding his deprivation, no loud complaint, no impious murmur, breaks from him; he bends before the stroke without repining, confident that it proceeds from a hand which cannot err.'
The Complete Northanger Horrid Novel Collection (9 Books of Gothic Romance and Horror) Page 318
