the monk(僧侣)-第46节

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convinced　him　of　the　astonishing　powers　of　her　mind：　　But　what
She　gained　in　the　opinion　of　the　Man；　She　lost　with　interest　in
the　affection　of　the　Lover。　　He　regretted　Rosario；　the　fond；　the
gentle；　and　submissive：　　He　grieved　that　Matilda　preferred　the
virtues　of　his　sex　to　those　of　her　own；　and　when　He　thought　of
her　expressions　respecting　the　devoted　Nun；　He　could　not　help
blaming　them　as　cruel　and　unfeminine。　　Pity　is　a　sentiment　so
natural；　so　appropriate　to　the　female　character；　that　it　is
scarcely　a　merit　for　a　Woman　to　possess　it；　but　to　be　without　it
is　a　grievous　crime。　　Ambrosio　could　not　easily　forgive　his
Mistress　for　being　deficient　in　this　amiable　quality。　　However；
though　he　blamed　her　insensibility；　He　felt　the　truth　of　her
observations；　and　though　He　pitied　sincerely　the　unfortunate
Agnes；　He　resolved　to　drop　the　idea　of　interposing　in　her　behalf。

Near　an　hour　had　elapsed；　since　Matilda　descended　into　the
Caverns；　Still　She　returned　not。　　Ambrosio's　curiosity　was
excited。　　He　drew　near　the　Staircase。　　He　listened。　　All　was
silent；　except　that　at　intervals　He　caught　the　sound　of　Matilda's
voice；　as　it　wound　along　the　subteraneous　passages；　and　was
re…echoed　by　the　Sepulchre's　vaulted　roofs。　　She　was　at　too　great
a　distance　for　him　to　distinguish　her　words；　and　ere　they　reached
him　they　were　deadened　into　a　low　murmur。　　He　longed　to　penetrate
into　this　mystery。　　He　resolved　to　disobey　her　injunctions　and
follow　her　into　the　Cavern。　　He　advanced　to　the　Staircase；　He
had　already　descended　some　steps　when　his　courage　failed　him。　
He　remembered　Matilda's　menaces　if　He　infringed　her　orders；　and
his　bosom　was　filled　with　a　secret　unaccountable　awe。　　He
returned　up　the　stairs；　resumed　his　former　station；　and　waited
impatiently　for　the　conclusion　of　this　adventure。

Suddenly　He　was　sensible　of　a　violent　shock：　　An　earthquake
rocked　the　ground。　　The　Columns　which　supported　the　roof　under
which　He　stood　were　so　strongly　shaken；　that　every　moment
menaced　him　with　its　fall；　and　at　the　same　moment　He　heard　a　loud
and　tremendous　burst　of　thunder。　　It　ceased；　and　his　eyes　being
fixed　upon　the　Staircase；　He　saw　a　bright　column　of　light　flash
along　the　Caverns　beneath。　　It　was　seen　but　for　an　instant。　　No
sooner　did　it　disappear；　than　all　was　once　more　quiet　and
obscure。　　Profound　Darkness　again　surrounded　him；　and　the　silence
of　night　was　only　broken　by　the　whirring　Bat；　as　She　flitted
slowly　by　him。

With　every　instant　Ambrosio's　amazement　increased。　　Another　hour
elapsed；　after　which　the　same　light　again　appeared　and　was　lost
again　as　suddenly。　　It　was　accompanied　by　a　strain　of　sweet　but
solemn　Music；　which　as　it　stole　through　the　Vaults　below；
inspired　the　Monk　with　mingled　delight　and　terror。　　It　had　not
long　been　hushed；　when　He　heard　Matilda's　steps　upon　the
Staircase。　　She　ascended　from　the　Cavern；　The　most　lively　joy
animated　her　beautiful　features。

'Did　you　see　any　thing？'　She　asked。

'Twice　I　saw　a　column　of　light　flash　up　the　Staircase。'

'Nothing　else？'

'Nothing。'

'The　Morning　is　on　the　point　of　breaking。　　Let　us　retire　to　the
Abbey；　lest　daylight　should　betray　us。'

With　a　light　step　She　hastened　from　the　burying…ground。　　She
regained　her　Cell；　and　the　curious　Abbot　still　accompanied　her。　
She　closed　the　door；　and　disembarrassed　herself　of　her　Lamp　and
Basket。

'I　have　succeeded！'　She　cried；　throwing　herself　upon　his　bosom：　
'Succeeded　beyond　my　fondest　hopes！　　I　shall　live；　Ambrosio；
shall　live　for　you！　　The　step　which　I　shuddered　at　taking
proves　to　me　a　source　of　joys　inexpressible！　　Oh！　that　I　dared
communicate　those　joys　to　you！　　Oh！　that　I　were　permitted　to
share　with　you　my　power；　and　raise　you　as　high　above　the　level　of
your　sex；　as　one　bold　deed　has　exalted　me　above　mine！'

'And　what　prevents　you；　Matilda？'　interrupted　the　Friar；　'Why　is
your　business　in　the　Cavern　made　a　secret？　　Do　you　think　me
undeserving　of　your　confidence？　　Matilda；　I　must　doubt　the　truth
of　your　affection；　while　you　have　joys　in　which　I　am　forbidden　to
share。'

'You　reproach　me　with　injustice。　　I　grieve　sincerely　that　I　am
obliged　to　conceal　from　you　my　happiness。　　But　I　am　not　to　blame：
The　fault　lies　not　in　me；　but　in　yourself；　my　Ambrosio！　　You　are
still　too　much　the　Monk。　　Your　mind　is　enslaved　by　the　prejudices
of　Education；　And　Superstition　might　make　you　shudder　at　the　idea
of　that　which　experience　has　taught　me　to　prize　and　value。　　At
present　you　are　unfit　to　be　trusted　with　a　secret　of　such
importance：　　But　the　strength　of　your　judgment；　and　the　curiosity
which　I　rejoice　to　see　sparkling　in　your　eyes；　makes　me　hope
that　you　will　one　day　deserve　my　confidence。　　Till　that　period
arrives；　restrain　your　impatience。　　Remember　that　you　have　given
me　your　solemn　oath　never　to　enquire　into　this　night's
adventures。　　I　insist　upon　your　keeping　this　oath：　For　though'
She　added　smiling；　while　She　sealed　his　lips　with　a　wanton　kiss；
'Though　I　forgive　your　breaking　your　vows　to　heaven；　I　expect　you
to　keep　your　vows　to　me。'

The　Friar　returned　the　embrace　which　had　set　his　blood　on　fire。　
The　luxurious　and　unbounded　excesses　of　the　former　night　were
renewed；　and　they　separated　not　till　the　Bell　rang　for　Matins。

The　same　pleasures　were　frequently　repeated。　　The　Monks　rejoiced
in　the　feigned　Rosario's　unexpected　recovery；　and　none　of　them
suspected　his　real　sex。　　The　Abbot　possessed　his　Mistress　in
tranquillity；　and　perceiving　his　frailty　unsuspected；　abandoned
himself　to　his　passions　in　full　security。　　Shame　and　remorse　no
longer　tormented　him。　　Frequent　repetitions　made　him　familiar
with　sin；　and　his　bosom　became　proof　against　the　stings　of
Conscience。　　In　these　sentiments　He　was　encouraged　by　Matilda；
But　She　soon　was　aware　that　She　had　satiated　her　Lover　by　the
unbounded　freedom　of　her　caresses。　　Her　charms　becoming
accustomed　to　him；　they　ceased　to　excite　the　same　desires　which
at　first　they　had　inspired。　　The　delirium　of　passion　being　past；
He　had　leisure　to　observe　every　trifling　defect：　　Where　none　were
to　be　found；　Satiety　made　him　fancy　them。　　The　Monk　was　glutted
with　the　fullness　of　pleasure：　　A　Week　had　scarcely　elapsed
before　He　was　wearied　of　his　Paramour：　His　warm　constitution
still　made　him　seek　in　her　arms　the　gratification　of　his　lust：　
But　when　the　moment　of　passion　was　over；　He　quitted　her　with
disgust；　and　his　humour；　naturally　inconstant；　made　him　sigh
impatiently　for　variety。

Possession；　which　cloys　Man；　only　increases　the　affection　of
Woman。　　Matilda　with　every　succeeding　day　grew　more　attached　to
the　Friar。　　Since　He　had　obtained　her　favours；　He　was　become
dearer　to　her　than　ever；　and　She　felt　grateful　to　him　for　the
pleasures　in　which　they　had　equally　been　Sharers。　　Unfortunately
as　her　passion　grew　ardent；　Ambrosio's　grew　cold；　The　very　marks
of　her　fondness　excited　his　disgust；　and　its　excess　served　to
extinguish　the　flame　which　already　burned　but　feebly　in　his
bosom。　　Matilda　could　not　but　remark　that　her　society　seemed　to
him　daily　less　agreeable：　　He　was　inattentive　while　She　spoke：
her　musical　talents；　which　She　possessed　in　perfection；　had　lost
the　power　of　amusing　him；　Or　if　He　deigned　to　praise　them；　his
compliments　were　evidently　forced　and　cold。　　He　no　longer　gazed
upon　her　with　affection；　or　applauded　her　sentiments　with　a
Lover's　partiality。　　This　Matilda　well　perceived；　and　redoubled
her　efforts　to　revive　those　sentiments　which　He　once　had　felt。　
She　could　not　but　fail；　since　He　considered　as　importunities　the
pains　which　She　took　to　please　him；　and　was　disgusted　by　the　very
means　which　She　used　to　recall　the　Wanderer。　　Still；　however；
their　illicit　Commerce　continued：　　But　it　was　clear　that　He　was
led　to　her　arms；　not　by　love；　but　the　cravings　of　brutal
appetite。　　His　constitution　made　a　Woman　necessary　to　him；　and
Matilda　was　the　only　one　with　whom　He　could　indulge　his　passions
safely：　　In　spite　of　her　beauty；　He　gazed　upon　every　other　Female
with　more　desire；　But　fearing　that　his　Hypocrisy　should　be　made
public；　He　confined　his　inclinations　to　his　own　breast。

It　was　by　no　means　his　nature　to　be　timid：　　But　his　education　had
impressed　his　mind　with　fear　so　strongly；　that　apprehension　was
now　become　part　of　his　character。　Had　his　Youth　been　passed　in
the　world；　He　would　have　shown　himself　possessed　of　many
brilliant　and　manly　qualities。　　He　was　naturally　enterprizing；
firm；　and　fearless：　　He　had　a　Warrior's　heart；　and　He　might　have
shone　with　splendour　at　the　head　of　an　Army。　　There　was　no　want
of　generosity　in　his　nature：　　The　Wretched　never　failed　to　find
in　him　a　compassionate　Auditor：　His　abilities　were　quick　and
shining；　and　his　judgment；　vast；　solid；　and　decisive。　　With　such
qualifications　He　would　have　been　an　ornament　to　his　Country：　
That　He　possessed　them；　He　had　given　proofs　in　his　earliest
infancy；　and　his　Parents　had　beheld　his　dawning　virtues　with　the
fondest　delight　and　admiration。　　Unfortunately；　while　yet　a　Child
He　was　deprived　of　those　Parents。　　He　fell　into　the　power　of　a
Relation　whose　only　wish　about　him　was　never　to　hear　of　him
more；　For　that　purpose　He　gave　him　in　charge　to　his　Friend；　the
former　Superior　of　the