the monk(僧侣)-第9节

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As　soon　as　He　had　finished；　Ambrosio　bent　an　eye　stern　and　angry
upon　the　imprudent　Nun。

'This　letter　must　to　the　Prioress！'　said　He；　and　passed　her。

His　words　sounded　like　thunder　to　her　ears：　　She　awoke　from　her
torpidity　only　to　be　sensible　of　the　dangers　of　her　situation。　
She　followed　him　hastily；　and　detained　him　by　his　garment。

'Stay！　　Oh！　stay！'　She　cried　in　the　accents　of　despair；　while　She
threw　herself　at　the　Friar's　feet；　and　bathed　them　with　her
tears。　　'Father；　compassionate　my　youth！　　Look　with　indulgence　on
a　Woman's　weakness；　and　deign　to　conceal　my　frailty！　　The
remainder　of　my　life　shall　be　employed　in　expiating　this　single
fault；　and　your　lenity　will　bring　back　a　soul　to　heaven！'

'Amazing　confidence！　　What！　　Shall　St。　Clare's　Convent　become　the
retreat　of　Prostitutes？　　Shall　I　suffer　the　Church　of　Christ　to
cherish　in　its　bosom　debauchery　and　shame？　　Unworthy　Wretch！　such
lenity　would　make　me　your　accomplice。　　Mercy　would　here　be
criminal。　　You　have　abandoned　yourself　to　a　Seducer's　lust；　You
have　defiled　the　sacred　habit　by　your　impurity；　and　still　dare
you　think　yourself　deserving　my　compassion？　　Hence；　nor　detain　me
longer！　　Where　is　the　Lady　Prioress？'　He　added；　raising　his
voice。

'Hold！　Father；　Hold！　　Hear　me　but　for　one　moment！　Tax　me　not　with
impurity；　nor　think　that　I　have　erred　from　the　warmth　of
temperament。　　Long　before　I　took　the　veil；　Raymond　was　Master　of
my　heart：　　He　inspired　me　with　the　purest；　the　most
irreproachable　passion；　and　was　on　the　point　of　becoming　my
lawful　husband。　　An　horrible　adventure；　and　the　treachery　of　a
Relation；　separated　us　from　each　other：　　I　believed　him　for　ever
lost　to　me；　and　threw　myself　into　a　Convent　from　motives　of
despair。　　Accident　again　united　us；　I　could　not　refuse　myself　the
melancholy　pleasure　of　mingling　my　tears　with　his：　　We　met
nightly　in　the　Gardens　of　St。　Clare；　and　in　an　unguarded　moment　I
violated　my　vows　of　Chastity。　　I　shall　soon　become　a　Mother：　
Reverend　Ambrosio；　take　compassion　on　me；　take　compassion　on　the
innocent　Being　whose　existence　is　attached　to　mine。　If　you
discover　my　imprudence　to　the　Domina；　both　of　us　are　lost：　　The
punishment　which　the　laws　of　St。　Clare　assign　to　Unfortunates
like　myself　is　most　severe　and　cruel。　　Worthy；　worthy　Father！　
Let　not　your　own　untainted　conscience　render　you　unfeeling
towards　those　less　able　to　withstand　temptation！　　Let　not　mercy
be　the　only　virtue　of　which　your　heart　is　unsusceptible！　　Pity
me；　most　reverend！　　Restore　my　letter；　nor　doom　me　to　inevitable
destruction！'

'Your　boldness　confounds　me！　　Shall　I　conceal　your　crime；　I　whom
you　have　deceived　by　your　feigned　confession？　　No；　Daughter；　no！　
I　will　render　you　a　more　essential　service。　　I　will　rescue　you
from　perdition　in　spite　of　yourself；　Penance　and　mortification
shall　expiate　your　offence；　and　Severity　force　you　back　to　the
paths　of　holiness。　　What；　Ho！　　Mother　St。　Agatha！'

'Father！　　By　all　that　is　sacred；　by　all　that　is　most　dear　to　you；
I　supplicate；　I　entreat。　。　。　。'

'Release　me！　　I　will　not　hear　you。　　Where　is　the　Domina？　　Mother
St。　Agatha；　where　are　you？'

The　door　of　the　Vestry　opened；　and　the　Prioress　entered　the
Chapel；　followed　by　her　Nuns。

'Cruel！　　Cruel！'　exclaimed　Agnes；　relinquishing　her　hold。

Wild　and　desperate；　She　threw　herself　upon　the　ground；　beating
her　bosom　and　rending　her　veil　in　all　the　delirium　of　despair。　
The　Nuns　gazed　with　astonishment　upon　the　scene　before　them。　　The
Friar　now　presented　the　fatal　paper　to　the　Prioress；　informed　her
of　the　manner　in　which　he　had　found　it；　and　added；　that　it　was
her　business　to　decide；　what　penance　the　delinquent　merited。

While　She　perused　the　letter；　the　Domina's　countenance　grew
inflamed　with　passion。　　What！　　Such　a　crime　committed　in　her
Convent；　and　made　known　to　Ambrosio；　to　the　Idol　of　Madrid；　to
the　Man　whom　She　was　most　anxious　to　impress　with　the　opinion　of
the　strictness　and　regularity　of　her　House！　　Words　were
inadequate　to　express　her　fury。　　She　was　silent；　and　darted　upon
the　prostrate　Nun　looks　of　menace　and　malignity。

'Away　with　her　to　the　Convent！'　said　She　at　length　to　some　of　her
Attendants。

Two　of　the　oldest　Nuns　now　approaching　Agnes；　raised　her　forcibly
from　the　ground；　and　prepared　to　conduct　her　from　the　Chapel。

'What！'　She　exclaimed　suddenly　shaking　off　their　hold　with
distracted　gestures；　'Is　all　hope　then　lost？　　Already　do　you　drag
me　to　punishment？　　Where　are　you；　Raymond？　　Oh！　save　me！　save
me！'　

Then　casting　upon　the　Abbot　a　frantic　look；　'Hear　me！'　She
continued；　'Man　of　an　hard　heart！　　Hear　me；　Proud；　Stern；　and
Cruel！　　You　could　have　saved　me；　you　could　have　restored　me　to
happiness　and　virtue；　but　would　not！　　You　are　the　destroyer　of　my
Soul；　You　are　my　Murderer；　and　on　you　fall　the　curse　of　my　death
and　my　unborn　Infant's！　　Insolent　in　your　yet…unshaken　virtue；
you　disdained　the　prayers　of　a　Penitent；　But　God　will　show　mercy；
though　you　show　none。　　And　where　is　the　merit　of　your　boasted
virtue？　　What　temptations　have　you　vanquished？　　Coward！　you　have
fled　from　it；　not　opposed　seduction。　　But　the　day　of　Trial　will
arrive！　　Oh！　then　when　you　yield　to　impetuous　passions！　when　you
feel　that　Man　is　weak；　and　born　to　err；　When　shuddering　you　look
back　upon　your　crimes；　and　solicit　with　terror　the　mercy　of　your
God；　Oh！　in　that　fearful　moment　think　upon　me！　　Think　upon　your
Cruelty！　　Think　upon　Agnes；　and　despair　of　pardon！'

As　She　uttered　these　last　words；　her　strength　was　exhausted；　and
She　sank　inanimate　upon　the　bosom　of　a　Nun　who　stood　near　her。　
She　was　immediately　conveyed　from　the　Chapel；　and　her　Companions
followed　her。

Ambrosio　had　not　listened　to　her　reproaches　without　emotion。　　A
secret　pang　at　his　heart　made　him　feel；　that　He　had　treated　this
Unfortunate　with　too　great　severity。　He　therefore　detained　the
Prioress　and　ventured　to　pronounce　some　words　in　favour　of　the
Delinquent。

'The　violence　of　her　despair；'　said　He；　'proves；　that　at　least
Vice　is　not　become　familiar　to　her。　　Perhaps　by　treating　her　with
somewhat　less　rigour　than　is　generally　practised；　and　mitigating
in　some　degree　the　accustomed　penance。　。　。　。'

'Mitigate　it；　Father？'　interrupted　the　Lady　Prioress；　'Not　I；
believe　me。　　The　laws　of　our　order　are　strict　and　severe；　they
have　fallen　into　disuse　of　late；　But　the　crime　of　Agnes　shows　me
the　necessity　of　their　revival。　　I　go　to　signify　my　intention　to
the　Convent；　and　Agnes　shall　be　the　first　to　feel　the　rigour　of
those　laws；　which　shall　be　obeyed　to　the　very　letter。　　Father；
Farewell。'

Thus　saying；　She　hastened　out　of　the　Chapel。

'I　have　done　my　duty；'　said　Ambrosio　to　himself。

Still　did　He　not　feel　perfectly　satisfied　by　this　reflection。　　To
dissipate　the　unpleasant　ideas　which　this　scene　had　excited　in
him；　upon　quitting　the　Chapel　He　descended　into　the　Abbey　Garden。

In　all　Madrid　there　was　no　spot　more　beautiful　or　better
regulated。　　It　was　laid　out　with　the　most　exquisite　taste；　The
choicest　flowers　adorned　it　in　the　height　of　luxuriance；　and
though　artfully　arranged；　seemed　only　planted　by　the　hand　of
Nature：　Fountains；　springing　from　basons　of　white　Marble；　cooled
the　air　with　perpetual　showers；　and　the　Walls　were　entirely
covered　by　Jessamine；　vines；　and　Honeysuckles。　　The　hour　now
added　to　the　beauty　of　the　scene。　　The　full　Moon；　ranging　through
a　blue　and　cloudless　sky；　shed　upon　the　trees　a　trembling　lustre；
and　the　waters　of　the　fountains　sparkled　in　the　silver　beam：　　A
gentle　breeze　breathed　the　fragrance　of　Orange…blossoms　along　the
Alleys；　and　the　Nightingale　poured　forth　her　melodious　murmur
from　the　shelter　of　an　artificial　wilderness。　　Thither　the　Abbot
bent　his　steps。

In　the　bosom　of　this　little　Grove　stood　a　rustic　Grotto；　formed
in　imitation　of　an　Hermitage。　　The　walls　were　constructed　of
roots　of　trees；　and　the　interstices　filled　up　with　Moss　and　Ivy。　
Seats　of　Turf　were　placed　on　either　side；　and　a　natural　Cascade
fell　from　the　Rock　above。　　Buried　in　himself　the　Monk　approached
the　spot。　　The　universal　calm　had　communicated　itself　to　his
bosom；　and　a　voluptuous　tranquillity　spread　languor　through　his
soul。

He　reached　the　Hermitage；　and　was　entering　to　repose　himself；
when　He　stopped　on　perceiving　it　to　be　already　occupied。　
Extended　upon　one　of　the　Banks　lay　a　man　in　a　melancholy　posture。

His　head　was　supported　upon　his　arm；　and　He　seemed　lost　in
mediation。　　The　Monk　drew　nearer；　and　recognised　Rosario：　　He
watched　him　in　silence；　and　entered　not　the　Hermitage。　　After
some　minutes　the　Youth　raised　his　eyes；　and　fixed　them　mournfully
upon　the　opposite　Wall。

'Yes！'　said　He　with　a　deep　and　plaintive　sigh；　'I　feel　all　the
happiness　of　thy　situation；　all　the　misery　of　my　own！　　Happy　were
I；　could　I　think　like　Thee！　　Could　I　look　like　Thee　with　disgust
upon　Mankind；　could　bury　myself　for　ever　in　some　impenetrable
solitude；　and　forget　that　the　world　holds　Beings　deserving　to　be
loved！　　Oh　God！　　What　a　blessing　would　Misanthropy　be　to　me！'

'That　is　a　singular　thought；　Rosario；'　said　the　Abbot；　entering
the　Grotto。

'You　here；　reverend　Father？'　cried　the　Novice。

At　the　same　time　starting　from　his　place　in　confus