volume01-第15节

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iend　to　my　affection？　　May　it　not　be　Man's　natural　instinct　which　informs　him。　。　。　Be　silent；　idle　hopes！　　Let　me　not　encourage　an　idea　which　takes　from　the　brilliance　of　Ambrosio's　virtue。　　'Tis　Religion；　not　Beauty　which　attracts　his　admiration；　'Tis　not　to　the　Woman；　but　the　Divinity　that　He　kneels。　　Would　He　but　address　to　me　the　least　tender　expression　which　He　pours　forth　to　this　Madona！　　Would　He　but　say　that　were　He　not　already　affianced　to　the　Church；　He　would　not　have　despised　Matilda！　　Oh！　　let　me　nourish　that　fond　idea！　　Perhaps　He　may　yet　acknowledge　that　He　feels　for　me　more　than　pity；　and　that　affection　like　mine　might　well　have　deserved　a　return；　Perhaps；　He　may　own　thus　much　when　I　lye　on　my　deathbed！　　He　then　need　not　fear　to　infringe　his　vows；　and　the　confession　of　his　regard　will　soften　the　pangs　of　dying。　　Would　I　were　sure　of　this！　　Oh！　　how　earnestly　should　I　sigh　for　the　moment　of　dissolution！'

Of　this　discourse　the　Abbot　lost　not　a　syllable；　and　the　tone　in　which　She　pronounced　these　last　words　pierced　to　his　heart。　　Involuntarily　He　raised　himself　from　his　pillow。

'Matilda！'　He　said　in　a　troubled　voice；　'Oh！　my　Matilda！'

She　started　at　the　sound；　and　turned　towards　him　hastily。　　The　suddenness　of　her　movement　made　her　Cowl　fall　back　from　her　head；　Her　features　became　visible　to　the　Monk's　enquiring　eye。　　What　was　his　amazement　at　beholding　the　exact　resemblance　of　his　admired　Madona？　　The　same　exquisite　proportion　of　features；　the　same　profusion　of　golden　hair；　the　same　rosy　lips；　heavenly　eyes；　and　majesty　of　countenance　adorned　Matilda！　　Uttering　an　exclamation　of　surprize；　Ambrosio　sank　back　upon　his　pillow；　and　doubted　whether　the　Object　before　him　was　mortal　or　divine。

Matilda　seemed　penetrated　with　confusion。　　She　remained　motionless　in　her　place；　and　supported　herself　upon　her　Instrument。　　Her　eyes　were　bent　upon　the　earth；　and　her　fair　cheeks　overspread　with　blushes。　　On　recovering　herself；　her　first　action　was　to　conceal　her　features。　　She　then　in　an　unsteady　and　troubled　voice　ventured　to　address　these　words　to　the　Friar。

'Accident　has　made　you　Master　of　a　secret；　which　I　never　would　have　revealed　but　on　the　Bed　of　death。　　Yes；　Ambrosio；　In　Matilda　de　Villanegas　you　see　the　original　of　your　beloved　Madona。　　Soon　after　I　conceived　my　unfortunate　passion；　I　formed　the　project　of　conveying　to　you　my　Picture：　　Crowds　of　Admirers　had　persuaded　me　that　I　possessed　some　beauty；　and　I　was　anxious　to　know　what　effect　it　would　produce　upon　you。　　I　caused　my　Portrait　to　be　drawn　by　Martin　Galuppi；　a　celebrated　Venetian　at　that　time　resident　in　Madrid。　　The　resemblance　was　striking：　　I　sent　it　to　the　Capuchin　Abbey　as　if　for　sale；　and　the　Jew　from　whom　you　bought　it　was　one　of　my　Emissaries。　　You　purchased　it。　　Judge　of　my　rapture；　when　informed　that　you　had　gazed　upon　it　with　delight；　or　rather　with　adoration；　that　you　had　suspended　it　in　your　Cell；　and　that　you　addressed　your　supplications　to　no　other　Saint。　　Will　this　discovery　make　me　still　more　regarded　as　an　object　of　suspicion？　　Rather　should　it　convince　you　how　pure　is　my　affection；　and　engage　you　to　suffer　me　in　your　society　and　esteem。　　I　heard　you　daily　extol　the　praises　of　my　Portrait：　　I　was　an　eyewitness　of　the　transports；　which　its　beauty　excited　in　you：　Yet　I　forbore　to　use　against　your　virtue　those　arms；　with　which　yourself　had　furnished　me。　　I　concealed　those　features　from　your　sight；　which　you　loved　unconsciously。　　I　strove　not　to　excite　desire　by　displaying　my　charms；　or　to　make　myself　Mistress　of　your　heart　through　the　medium　of　your　senses。　　To　attract　your　notice　by　studiously　attending　to　religious　duties；　to　endear　myself　to　you　by　convincing　you　that　my　mind　was　virtuous　and　my　attachment　sincere；　such　was　my　only　aim。　　I　succeeded；　I　became　your　companion　and　your　Friend。　　I　concealed　my　sex　from　your　knowledge；　and　had　you　not　pressed　me　to　reveal　my　secret；　had　I　not　been　tormented　by　the　fear　of　a　discovery；　never　had　you　known　me　for　any　other　than　Rosario。　　And　still　are　you　resolved　to　drive　me　from　you？　　The　few　hours　of　life　which　yet　remain　for　me；　may　I　not　pass　them　in　your　presence？　　Oh！　speak；　Ambrosio；　and　tell　me　that　I　may　stay！'

This　speech　gave　the　Abbot　an　opportunity　of　recollecting　himself。　　He　was　conscious　that　in　the　present　disposition　of　his　mind；　avoiding　her　society　was　his　only　refuge　from　the　power　of　this　enchanting　Woman。

'You　declaration　has　so　much　astonished　me；'　said　He；　'that　I　am　at　present　incapable　of　answering　you。　　Do　not　insist　upon　a　reply；　Matilda；　Leave　me　to　myself；　I　have　need　to　be　alone。'

'I　obey　youBut　before　I　go；　promise　not　to　insist　upon　my　quitting　the　Abbey　immediately。'

'Matilda；　reflect　upon　your　situation；　Reflect　upon　the　consequences　of　your　stay。　　Our　separation　is　indispensable；　and　we　must　part。'

'But　not　to…day；　Father！　　Oh！　in　pity　not　today！'

'You　press　me　too　hard；　but　I　cannot　resist　that　tone　of　supplication。　　Since　you　insist　upon　it；　I　yield　to　your　prayer：　　I　consent　to　your　remaining　here　a　sufficient　time　to　prepare　in　some　measure　the　Brethren　for　your　departure。　　Stay　yet　two　days；　But　on　the　third；'　。　。　。　（He　sighed　involuntarily）'Remember；　that　on　the　third　we　must　part　for　ever！'

She　caught　his　hand　eagerly；　and　pressed　it　to　her　lips。

'On　the　third？'　She　exclaimed　with　an　air　of　wild　solemnity；　'You　are　right；　Father！　　You　are　right！　　On　the　third　we　must　part　for　ever！'

There　was　a　dreadful　expression　in　her　eye　as　She　uttered　these　words；　which　penetrated　the　Friar's　soul　with　horror：　　Again　She　kissed　his　hand；　and　then　fled　with　rapidity　from　the　chamber。

Anxious　to　authorise　the　presence　of　his　dangerous　Guest；　yet　conscious　that　her　stay　was　infringing　the　laws　of　his　order；　Ambrosio's　bosom　became　the　Theatre　of　a　thousand　contending　passions。　　At　length　his　attachment　to　the　feigned　Rosario；　aided　by　the　natural　warmth　of　his　temperament；　seemed　likely　to　obtain　the　victory：　The　success　was　assured；　when　that　presumption　which　formed　the　groundwork　of　his　character　came　to　Matilda's　assistance。　　The　Monk　reflected　that　to　vanquish　temptation　was　an　infinitely　greater　merit　than　to　avoid　it：　　He　thought　that　He　ought　rather　to　rejoice　in　the　opportunity　given　him　of　proving　the　firmness　of　his　virtue。　　St。　Anthony　had　withstood　all　seductions　to　lust；　Then　why　should　not　He？　　Besides；　St。　Anthony　was　tempted　by　the　Devil；　who　put　every　art　into　practice　to　excite　his　passions：　　Whereas；　Ambrosio's　danger　proceeded　from　a　mere　mortal　Woman；　fearful　and　modest；　whose　apprehensions　of　his　yielding　were　not　less　violent　than　his　own。

'Yes；'　said　He；　'The　Unfortunate　shall　stay；　I　have　nothing　to　fear　from　her　presence。　　Even　should　my　own　prove　too　weak　to　resist　the　temptation；　I　am　secured　from　danger　by　the　innocence　of　Matilda。'

Ambrosio　was　yet　to　learn；　that　to　an　heart　unacquainted　with　her；　Vice　is　ever　most　dangerous　when　lurking　behind　the　Mask　of　Virtue。

He　found　himself　so　perfectly　recovered；　that　when　Father　Pablos　visited　him　again　at　night；　He　entreated　permission　to　quit　his　chamber　on　the　day　following。　His　request　was　granted。　　Matilda　appeared　no　more　that　evening；　except　in　company　with　the　Monks　when　they　came　in　a　body　to　enquire　after　the　Abbot's　health。　　She　seemed　fearful　of　conversing　with　him　in　private；　and　stayed　but　a　few　minutes　in　his　room。　　The　Friar　slept　well；　But　the　dreams　of　the　former　night　were　repeated；　and　his　sensations　of　voluptuousness　were　yet　more　keen　and　exquisite。　　The　same　lust…exciting　visions　floated　before　his　eyes：　　Matilda；　in　all　the　pomp　of　beauty；　warm；　tender；　and　luxurious；　clasped　him　to　her　bosom；　and　lavished　upon　him　the　most　ardent　caresses。　　He　returned　them　as　eagerly；　and　already　was　on　the　point　of　satisfying　his　desires；　when　the　faithless　form　disappeared；　and　left　him　to　all　the　horrors　of　shame　and　disappointment。

The　Morning　dawned。　　Fatigued；　harassed；　and　exhausted　by　his　provoking　dreams；　He　was　not　disposed　to　quit　his　Bed。　　He　excused　himself　from　appearing　at　Matins：　　It　was　the　first　morning　in　his　life　that　He　had　ever　missed　them。　　He　rose　late。　　During　the　whole　of　the　day　He　had　no　opportunity　of　speaking　to　Matilda　without　witnesses。　　His　Cell　was　thronged　by　the　Monks；　anxious　to　express　their　concern　at　his　illness；　And　He　was　still　occupied　in　receiving　their　compliments　on　his　recovery；　when　the　Bell　summoned　them　to　the　Refectory。

After　dinner　the　Monks　separated；　and　dispersed　themselves　in　various　parts　of　the　Garden；　where　the　shade　of　trees　or　retirement　of　some　Grotto　presented　the　most　agreeable　means　of　enjoying　the　Siesta。　　The　Abbot　bent　his　steps　towards　the　Hermitage：　　A　glance　of　his　eye　invited　Matilda　to　accompany　him。

She　obeyed；　and　followed　him　thither　in　silence。　　They　entered　the　Grotto；　and　seated　themselves。　　Both　seemed　unwilling　to　begin　the　conversation；　and　to　labour　under　the　influence　of　mutual　embarrassment。　　At　length　the　Abbot　spoke：　　He　conversed　only　on　indifferent　topics；　and　Matilda　answered　him　in　the　same　tone。　　She　seemed　anxious　to　make　him　forget　that　the　Person　who　sat　by　him　was　any　other　than　Rosario。　　Neither　of　them　dared；　or　indeed　wished　to　make　an　allusion