the monk(僧侣)-第85节

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suspicion　of　the　Monk's　having　dealt　in　Magic：　　It　was　even
supposed　that　his　former　influence　over　the　minds　of　the　People
was　entirely　to　be　ascribed　to　witchcraft。

Determined　to　make　him　confess　not　only　the　crimes　which　He　had
committed；　but　those　also　of　which　He　was　innocent；　the
Inquisitors　began　their　examination。　Though　dreading　the
tortures；　as　He　dreaded　death　still　more　which　would　consign　him
to　eternal　torments；　the　Abbot　asserted　his　purity　in　a　voice
bold　and　resolute。　　Matilda　followed　his　example；　but　spoke　with
fear　and　trembling。　　Having　in　vain　exhorted　him　to　confess；　the
Inquisitors　ordered　the　Monk　to　be　put　to　the　question。　　The
Decree　was　immediately　executed。　　Ambrosio　suffered　the　most
excruciating　pangs　that　ever　were　invented　by　human　cruelty：　
Yet　so　dreadful　is　Death　when　guilt　accompanies　it；　that　He　had
sufficient　fortitude　to　persist　in　his　disavowal。　　His　agonies
were　redoubled　in　consequence：　　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　of　the　Friar's　sufferings；　her　courage　totally　deserted
her。　　She　sank　upon　her　knees；　acknowledged　her　corresponding
with　infernal　Spirits；　and　that　She　had　witnessed　the　Monk's
assassination　of　Antonia：　　But　as　to　the　crime　of　Sorcery；　She
declared　herself　the　sole　criminal；　and　Ambrosio　perfectly
innocent。　　The　latter　assertion　met　with　no　credit。　　The　Abbot
had　recovered　his　senses　in　time　to　hear　the　confession　of　his
Accomplice：　But　He　was　too　much　enfeebled　by　what　He　had　already
undergone　to　be　capable　at　that　time　of　sustaining　new　torments。

He　was　commanded　back　to　his　Cell；　but　first　informed　that　as
soon　as　He　had　gained　strength　sufficient；　He　must　prepare
himself　for　a　second　examination。　　The　Inquisitors　hoped　that　He
would　then　be　less　hardened　and　obstinate。　　To　Matilda　it　was
announced　that　She　must　expiate　her　crime　in　fire　on　the
approaching　Auto　da　Fe。　　All　her　tears　and　entreaties　could
procure　no　mitigation　of　her　doom；　and　She　was　dragged　by　force
from　the　Hall　of　Trial。

Returned　to　his　dungeon；　the　sufferings　of　Ambrosio's　body　were
far　more　supportable　than　those　of　his　mind。　　His　dislocated
limbs；　the　nails　torn　from　his　hands　and　feet；　and　his　fingers
mashed　and　broken　by　the　pressure　of　screws；　were　far　surpassed
in　anguish　by　the　agitation　of　his　soul　and　vehemence　of　his
terrors。　　He　saw　that；　guilty　or　innocent；　his　Judges　were　bent
upon　condemning　him：　　The　remembrance　of　what　his　denial　had
already　cost　him　terrified　him　at　the　idea　of　being　again
applied　to　the　question；　and　almost　engaged　him　to　confess　his
crimes。　　Then　again　the　consequences　of　his　confession　flashed
before　him；　and　rendered　him　once　more　irresolute。　　His　death
would　be　inevitable；　and　that　a　death　the　most　dreadful：　　He　had
listened　to　Matilda's　doom；　and　doubted　not　that　a　similar　was
reserved　for　him。　　He　shuddered　at　the　approaching　Auto　da　Fe；　at
the　idea　of　perishing　in　flames；　and　only　escaping　from　indurable
torments　to　pass　into　others　more　subtile　and　ever…lasting！　With
affright　did　He　bend　his　mind's　eye　on　the　space　beyond　the
grave；　nor　could　hide　from　himself　how　justly　he　ought　to　dread
Heaven's　vengeance。　　In　this　Labyrinth　of　terrors；　fain　would　He
have　taken　his　refuge　in　the　gloom　of　Atheism：　　Fain　would　He
have　denied　the　soul's　immortality；　have　persuaded　himself　that
when　his　eyes　once　closed；　they　would　never　more　open；　and　that
the　same　moment　would　annihilate　his　soul　and　body。　　Even　this
resource　was　refused　to　him。　　To　permit　his　being　blind　to　the
fallacy　of　this　belief；　his　knowledge　was　too　extensive；　his
understanding　too　solid　and　just。　　He　could　not　help　feeling　the
existence　of　a　God。　　Those　truths；　once　his　comfort；　now
presented　themselves　before　him　in　the　clearest　light；　But　they
only　served　to　drive　him　to　distraction。　　They　destroyed　his
ill…grounded　hopes　of　escaping　punishment；　and　dispelled　by　the
irresistible　brightness　of　Truth　and　convinction；　Philosophy's
deceitful　vapours　faded　away　like　a　dream。

In　anguish　almost　too　great　for　mortal　frame　to　bear；　He　expected
the　time　when　He　was　again　to　be　examined。　He　busied　himself　in
planning　ineffectual　schemes　for　escaping　both　present　and　future
punishment。　　Of　the　first　there　was　no　possibility；　Of　the　second
Despair　made　him　neglect　the　only　means。　　While　Reason　forced　him
to　acknowledge　a　God's　existence；　Conscience　made　him　doubt　the
infinity　of　his　goodness。　　He　disbelieved　that　a　Sinner　like　him
could　find　mercy。　　He　had　not　been　deceived　into　error：　
Ignorance　could　furnish　him　with　no　excuse。　　He　had　seen　vice　in
her　true　colours；　Before　He　committed　his　crimes；　He　had　computed
every　scruple　of　their　weight；　and　yet　he　had　committed　them。

'Pardon？'　He　would　cry　in　an　access　of　phrenzy　'Oh！　there　can　be
none　for　me！'

Persuaded　of　this；　instead　of　humbling　himself　in　penitence；　of
deploring　his　guilt；　and　employing　his　few　remaining　hours　in
deprecating　Heaven's　wrath；　He　abandoned　himself　to　the
transports　of　desperate　rage；　He　sorrowed　for　the　punishment　of
his　crimes；　not　their　commission；　and　exhaled　his　bosom's　anguish
in　idle　sighs；　in　vain　lamentations；　in　blasphemy　and　despair。　
As　the　few　beams　of　day　which　pierced　through　the　bars　of　his
prison　window　gradually　disappeared；　and　their　place　was
supplied　by　the　pale　and　glimmering　Lamp；　He　felt　his　terrors
redouble；　and　his　ideas　become　more　gloomy；　more　solemn；　more
despondent。　　He　dreaded　the　approach　of　sleep：　　No　sooner　did　his
eyes　close；　wearied　with　tears　and　watching；　than　the　dreadful
visions　seemed　to　be　realised　on　which　his　mind　had　dwelt　during
the　day。　He　found　himself　in　sulphurous　realms　and　burning
Caverns；　surrounded　by　Fiends　appointed　his　Tormentors；　and　who
drove　him　through　a　variety　of　tortures；　each　of　which　was　more
dreadful　than　the　former。　　Amidst　these　dismal　scenes　wandered
the　Ghosts　of　Elvira　and　her　Daughter。　　They　reproached　him　with
their　deaths；　recounted　his　crimes　to　the　Daemons；　and　urged　them
to　inflict　torments　of　cruelty　yet　more　refined。　　Such　were　the
pictures　which　floated　before　his　eyes　in　sleep：　　They　vanished
not　till　his　repose　was　disturbed　by　excess　of　agony。　　Then　would
He　start　from　the　ground　on　which　He　had　stretched　himself；　his
brows　running　down　with　cold　sweat；　his　eyes　wild　and　phrenzied；
and　He　only　exchanged　the　terrible　certainty　for　surmizes
scarcely　more　supportable。　　He　paced　his　dungeon　with　disordered
steps；　He　gazed　with　terror　upon　the　surrounding　darkness；　and
often　did　He　cry；

'Oh！　fearful　is　night　to　the　Guilty！'

The　day　of　his　second　examination　was　at　hand。　　He　had　been
compelled　to　swallow　cordials；　whose　virtues　were　calculated　to
restore　his　bodily　strength；　and　enable　him　to　support　the
question　longer。　　On　the　night　preceding　this　dreaded　day；　his
fears　for　the　morrow　permitted　him　not　to　sleep。　　His　terrors
were　so　violent；　as　nearly　to　annihilate　his　mental　powers。　　He
sat　like　one　stupefied　near　the　Table　on　which　his　Lamp　was
burning　dimly。　Despair　chained　up　his　faculties　in　Idiotism；　and
He　remained　for　some　hours；　unable　to　speak　or　move；　or　indeed　to
think。

'Look　up；　Ambrosio！'　said　a　Voice　in　accents　well…known　to　him

The　Monk　started；　and　raised　his　melancholy　eyes。　Matilda　stood
before　him。　　She　had　quitted　her　religious　habit。　　She　now　wore　a
female　dress；　at　once　elegant　and　splendid：　　A　profusion　of
diamonds　blazed　upon　her　robes；　and　her　hair　was　confined　by　a
coronet　of　Roses。　　In　her　right　hand　She　held　a　small　Book：　　A
lively　expression　of　pleasure　beamed　upon　her　countenance；　But
still　it　was　mingled　with　a　wild　imperious　majesty　which
inspired　the　Monk　with　awe；　and　represt　in　some　measure　his
transports　at　seeing　her。　　

'You　here；　Matilda？'　He　at　length　exclaimed；　'How　have　you　gained
entrance？　　Where　are　your　Chains？　　What　means　this　magnificence；
and　the　joy　which　sparkles　in　your　eyes？　　Have　our　Judges
relented？　　Is　there　a　chance　of　my　escaping？　　Answer　me　for　pity；
and　tell　me；　what　I　have　to　hope；　or　fear。'

'Ambrosio！'　She　replied　with　an　air　of　commanding　dignity；　'I
have　baffled　the　Inquisition's　fury。　　I　am　free：　A　few　moments
will　place　kingdoms　between　these　dungeons　and　me。　　Yet　I
purchase　my　liberty　at　a　dear；　at　a　dreadful　price！　　Dare　you　pay
the　same；　Ambrosio？　　Dare　you　spring　without　fear　over　the
bounds　which　separate　Men　from　Angels？You　are　silent。You
look　upon　me　with　eyes　of　suspicion　and　alarmI　read　your
thoughts　and　confess　their　justice。　　Yes；　Ambrosio　；　I　have
sacrificed　all　for　life　and　liberty。　　I　am　no　longer　a　candidate
for　heaven！　　I　have　renounced　God's　service；　and　am　enlisted
beneath　the　banners　of　his　Foes。　　The　deed　is　past　recall：　Yet
were　it　in　my　power　to　go　back；　I　would　not。　　Oh！　my　Friend；　to
expire　in　such　torments！　　To　die　amidst　curses　and　execrations！　
To　bear　the　insults　of　an　exasperated　Mob！　　To　be　exposed　to　all
the　mortifications　of　shame　and　infamy！　　Who　can　reflect　without
horror　on　such　a　doom？　　Let　me　then　exult　in　my　exchange。　　I　have
sold　distant