the monk(僧侣)-第55节

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whose　coming　was　announced　by　thunder　and　earthquakes。　　He　looked
wildly　round　him；　expecting　that　some　dreadful　Apparition　would
meet　his　eyes；　the　sight　of　which　would　drive　him　mad。　　A　cold
shivering　seized　his　body；　and　He　sank　upon　one　knee；　unable　to
support　himself。

'He　comes！'　exclaimed　Matilda　in　a　joyful　accent。

Ambrosio　started；　and　expected　the　Daemon　with　terror。　　What　was
his　surprize；　when　the　Thunder　ceasing　to　roll；　a　full　strain　of
melodious　Music　sounded　in　the　air。　　At　the　same　time　the　cloud
dispersed；　and　He　beheld　a　Figure　more　beautiful　than　Fancy's
pencil　ever　drew。　　It　was　a　Youth　seemingly　scarce　eighteen；　the
perfection　of　whose　form　and　face　was　unrivalled。　　He　was
perfectly　naked：　　A　bright　Star　sparkled　upon　his　forehead；　Two
crimson　wings　extended　themselves　from　his　shoulders；　and　his
silken　locks　were　confined　by　a　band　of　many…coloured　fires；
which　played　round　his　head；　formed　themselves　into　a　variety　of
figures；　and　shone　with　a　brilliance　far　surpassing　that　of
precious　Stones。　　Circlets　of　Diamonds　were　fastened　round　his
arms　and　ankles；　and　in　his　right　hand　He　bore　a　silver　branch；
imitating　Myrtle。　　His　form　shone　with　dazzling　glory：　　He　was
surrounded　by　clouds　of　rose…coloured　light；　and　at　the　moment
that　He　appeared；　a　refreshing　air　breathed　perfumes　through　the
Cavern。　　Enchanted　at　a　vision　so　contrary　to　his　expectations；
Ambrosio　gazed　upon　the　Spirit　with　delight　and　wonder：　　Yet
however　beautiful　the　Figure；　He　could　not　but　remark　a　wildness
in　the　Daemon's　eyes；　and　a　mysterious　melancholy　impressed　upon
his　features；　betraying　the　Fallen　Angel；　and　inspiring　the
Spectators　with　secret　awe。

The　Music　ceased。　　Matilda　addressed　herself　to　the　Spirit：　　She
spoke　in　a　language　unintelligible　to　the　Monk；　and　was　answered
in　the　same。　　She　seemed　to　insist　upon　something　which　the
Daemon　was　unwilling　to　grant。　　He　frequently　darted　upon
Ambrosio　angry　glances；　and　at　such　times　the　Friar's　heart　sank
within　him。　　Matilda　appeared　to　grow　incensed。　　She　spoke　in　a
loud　and　commanding　tone；　and　her　gestures　declared　that　She　was
threatening　him　with　her　vengeance。　　Her　menaces　had　the　desired
effect：　　The　Spirit　sank　upon　his　knee；　and　with　a　submissive　air
presented　to　her　the　branch　of　Myrtle。　　No　sooner　had　She
received　it；　than　the　Music　was　again　heard；　A　thick　cloud　spread
itself　over　the　Apparition；　The　blue　flames　disappeared；　and
total　obscurity　reigned　through　the　Cave。　　The　Abbot　moved　not
from　his　place：　　His　faculties　were　all　bound　up　in　pleasure；
anxiety；　and　surprize。　　At　length　the　darkness　dispersing；　He
perceived　Matilda　standing　near　him　in　her　religious　habit；　with
the　Myrtle　in　her　hand。　　No　traces　of　the　incantation；　and　the
Vaults　were　only　illuminated　by　the　faint　rays　of　the　sepulchral
Lamp。

'I　have　succeeded；'　said　Matilda；　'though　with　more　difficulty
than　I　expected。　　Lucifer；　whom　I　summoned　to　my　assistance；　was
at　first　unwilling　to　obey　my　commands：　To　enforce　his　compliance
I　was　constrained　to　have　recourse　to　my　strongest　charms。　　They
have　produced　the　desired　effect；　but　I　have　engaged　never　more
to　invoke　his　agency　in　your　favour。　　Beware　then；　how　you　employ
an　opportunity　which　never　will　return。　　My　magic　arts　will　now
be　of　no　use　to　you：　　In　future　you　can　only　hope　for
supernatural　aid　by　invoking　the　Daemons　yourself；　and　accepting
the　conditions　of　their　service。　　This　you　will　never　do：　　You
want　strength　of　mind　to　force　them　to　obedience；　and　unless　you
pay　their　established　price；　they　will　not　be　your　voluntary
Servants。　　In　this　one　instance　they　consent　to　obey　you：　I　offer
you　the　means　of　enjoying　your　Mistress；　and　be　careful　not　to
lose　the　opportunity。　　Receive　this　constellated　Myrtle：　　While
you　bear　this　in　your　hand；　every　door　will　fly　open　to　you。　　It
will　procure　you　access　tomorrow　night　to　Antonia's　chamber：　
Then　breathe　upon　it　thrice；　pronounce　her　name；　and　place　it
upon　her　pillow。　　A　death…like　slumber　will　immediately　seize
upon　her；　and　deprive　her　of　the　power　of　resisting　your
attempts。　　Sleep　will　hold　her　till　break　of　Morning。　　In　this
state　you　may　satisfy　your　desires　without　danger　of　being
discovered；　since　when　daylight　shall　dispel　the　effects　of　the
enchantment；　Antonia　will　perceive　her　dishonour；　but　be　ignorant
of　the　Ravisher。　　Be　happy　then；　my　Ambrosio；　and　let　this
service　convince　you　that　my　friendship　is　disinterested　and
pure。　　The　night　must　be　near　expiring：　　Let　us　return　to　the
Abbey；　lest　our　absence　should　create　surprize。'

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

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

　

　
VOLUME　III

CHAPTER　I

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

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

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

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