The Adventures of Ferdinand Count Fathom — Complete
make himself perfectly easy with regard to the death of Count Trebasi,
for he would take care to represent him in such a light to the
empress-queen, as would screen him from any danger or prosecution on
that account. His highness, moreover, appointed the following day for
performing the promise he had made of presenting him to that august
princess, and in the meantime prepossessed her so much in his favour,
that when he approached her presence, and was announced by his noble
introductor, she eyed him with a look of peculiar complacency, saying,
“I am glad to see you returned to my dominions. Your father was a
gallant officer, who served our house with equal courage and fidelity;
and as I understand you tread in his footsteps, you may depend upon my
favour and protection.”
He was so much overwhelmed with this gracious reception, that, while he
bowed in silence, the drops of gratitude trickled from his eyes; and
her imperial majesty was so well pleased with this manifestation of his
heart, that she immediately gave directions for promoting him to the
command of a troop of horse. Thus fortune seemed willing, and indeed
eager to discharge the debt she owed him for the different calamities
he had undergone. And as he looked upon the generous Hebrew to be the
sole source of his success, he did not fail to make him acquainted with
the happy effects of his recommendation and friendship, and to express,
in the warmest terms, the deep sense he had of his uncommon
benevolence, which, by the bye, was still greater, with regard to
Renaldo, than the reader as yet imagines; for he not only furnished him
with money for his present occasions, but also gave him an unlimited
credit on a banker in Vienna, to whom one of his letters was directed.
The ceremony of the nun’s admission being now performed, and the
convent restored to its former quiet, Melvil hastened thither on the
wings of brotherly affection, and presented his letter to the abbess,
who having perused the contents, by which she learned that the family
disquiets of Count Trebasi no longer subsisted, and that the bearer was
the brother of Mademoiselle, she received him with great politeness,
congratulated him on this happy event, and, begging he would excuse her
staying with him in the parlour, on pretence of business, withdrew,
saying, she would immediately send in a young lady who would console
him for her absence. In a few minutes he was joined by his sister, who,
expecting nothing less than to see Renaldo, no sooner distinguished his
features, than she shrieked aloud with surprise, and would have sunk
upon the floor, had not he supported her in his embrace.
Such a sudden apparition of her brother at any time, or in any place,
after their long separation, would have strongly affected this sensible
young lady; but to find him so abruptly in a place where she thought
herself buried from the knowledge of all her relations, occasioned such
commotions in her spirits as had well-nigh endangered her reason. For
it was not till after a considerable pause, that she could talk to him
with connexion or coherence. However, as those transports subsided,
they entered into a more deliberate and agreeable conversation; in the
course of which, he gradually informed her of what had passed at the
castle; and inexpressible was the pleasure she felt in learning that
her mother was released from captivity, herself restored to freedom,
and her brother to the possession of his inheritance, by the only means
to which she had always prayed these blessings might be owing.
As she had been treated with uncommon humanity by the abbess, she would
not consent to leave the convent until he should be ready to set out
for Presburg; so that they dined together with that good lady, and
passed the afternoon in that mutual communication with which a brother
and sister may be supposed to entertain themselves on such an occasion.
She gave him a detail of the insults and mortifications she had
suffered from the brutality of her father-in-law, and told him, that
her confinement in this monastery was owing to Trebasi having
intercepted a letter to her from Renaldo, signifying his intention to
return to the empire, in order to assert his own right, and redress his
grievances. Then turning the discourse upon the incidents of his
peregrinations, she in a particular manner inquired about that
exquisite beauty who had been the innocent source of all his
distresses, and upon whose perfections he had often, in his letters to
his sister, expatiated with indications of rapture and delight.
This inquiry in a moment blew up that scorching flame which had been
well-nigh stifled by other necessary avocations. His eyes gleamed, his
cheeks glowed and grew pale alternately, and his whole frame underwent
an immediate agitation; which being perceived by Mademoiselle, she
concluded that some new calamity was annexed to the name of Monimia,
and, dreading to rip up a wound which she saw was so ineffectually
closed, she for the present suppressed her curiosity and concern, and
industriously endeavoured to introduce some less affecting subject of
conversation. He saw her aim, approved of her discretion, and, joining
her endeavours, expressed his surprise at her having omitted to signify
the least remembrance of her old favourite, Fathom, whom he had left in
England. He had no sooner pronounced this name, than she suffered some
confusion in her turn; from which, however, recollecting herself,
“Brother,” said she, “you must endeavour to forget that wretch, who is
altogether unworthy of retaining the smallest share of your regard.”
Astonished, and indeed angry, at this expression, which he considered
as the effect of malicious misrepresentation, he gently chid her for
her credulity in believing the envious aspersion of some person, who
repined at the superior virtue of Fathom, whom he affirmed to be an
honour to the human species.
“Nothing is more easy,” replied the young lady, “than to impose upon a
person, who, being himself unconscious of guile, suspects no deceit.
You have been a dupe, dear brother, not to the finesse of Fathom, but
to the sincerity of your own heart. For my own part, I assume no honour
to my own penetration in having comprehended the villany of that
impostor, which was discovered, in more than one instance, by accidents
I could not possibly foresee.
“You must know, that Teresa, who attended me from my childhood, and in
whose honesty I reposed such confidence, having disobliged some of the
inferior servants, was so narrowly watched in all her transactions, as
to be at last detected in the very act of conveying a piece of plate,
which was actually found concealed among her clothes.
“You may guess how much I was astonished when I understood this
circumstance. I could not trust to the evidence of my own senses, and
should have still believed her innocent, in spite of ocular
demonstration, had not she, in the terrors of being tried for felony,
promised to make a very material discovery to the Countess, provided
she would take such measures as would save her life.
“This request being complied with, she, in my hearing, opened up such
an amazing scene of iniquity, baseness, and ingratitude, which had been
acted by her and Fathom, in order to defraud the family to which they
were so much indebted, that I could not have believed the human mind
capable of such degeneracy, or that traitor endowed with such
pernicious cunning and dissimulation, had not her tale been congruous,
consistent, and distinct, and fraught with circumstances that left no
room to doubt the least article of her confession; on consideration of
which she was permitted to go into voluntary exile.”
She then explained their combination in all the particulars, as we have
already recounted them in their proper place, and finally observed,
that the opinion she had hence conceived of Fathom’s character, was
confirmed by what she had since learned of his perfidious conduct
towards that very nun who had lately taken the veil.
Perceiving her brother struck dumb with astonishment, and gaping with
the most eager attention, she proceeded to relate the incidents of his
double intrigue with the jeweller’s wife and daughter, as they were
communicated to her by the nun, who was no other than the individual
Wilhelmina. After those rivals had been forsaken by their gallant,
their mutual animosities and chagrin served to whet the attention and
invention of each; so that in a little time the whole mystery stood
disclosed to both. The mother had discovered the daughter’s
correspondence with Fathom, as we have formerly observed, by means of
that unfortunate letter which he unwittingly committed to the charge of
the old beldame; and, as soon as she understood he was without the
reach of all solicitation or prosecution, imparted this billet to her
husband, whose fury was so ungovernable, that he had almost sacrificed
Wilhelmina with his own hands, especially when, terrified by his
threats and imprecations, she owned that she had bestowed the chain on
this perfidious lover. However, this dreadful purpose was prevented,
partly by the interposition of his wife, whose aim was not the death
but immurement of his daughter, and partly by the tears and
supplication of the young gentlewoman herself, who protested, that,
although the ceremony of the church had not been performed, she was
contracted to Fathom by the most solemn vows, to witness which he
invoked all the saints in heaven.
The jeweller, upon cooler consideration, was unwilling to lose the last
spark of hope that glittered among the ruins of his despair, and
resisted all the importunities of his wife, who pressed him to consult
the welfare of his daughter’s soul, in the fond expectation of finding
some expedient to lure back the chain and its possessor. In the
meantime Wilhelmina was daily and hourly exposed to the mortifying
animadversions of her mamma, who, with all the insolence of virtue,
incessantly upbraided her with the backslidings of her vicious life,
and exhorted her to reformation and repentance. This continual triumph
lasted for many months, till at length, a quarrel happening between the
mother and the gossip at whose house she used to give the rendezvous to
her admirers, that incensed confidante, in the precipitation of her
anger, promulgated the history of those secret meetings; and, among the
rest, her interviews with Fathom were brought to light.
The first people who hear news of this sort are generally those to whom
they are most unwelcome. The German was soon apprised of his wife’s
frailty, and considered the two females of his house as a couple of
devils incarnate, sent from hell to exercise his patience. Yet, in the
midst of his displeasure, he found matter of consolation, in being
furnished with a sufficient reason for parting with his helpmate, who
had for many years kept his family in disquiet. He therefore, without
hazarding a personal conference, sent proposals to her by a friend,
which she did not think proper to reject; and seeing himself restored
to the dominion of his own house, exerted his sway so tyrannically,
that Wilhelmina became weary of her life, and had recourse to the
comforts of religion, of which she soon became enamoured, and begged
her father’s permission to dedicate the rest of her life to the duties
of devotion. She was accordingly received in this convent, the
regulations of which were so much to her liking, that she performed the
task of probation with pleasure, and voluntarily excluded herself from
the vanities of this life. It was here she had contracted an
acquaintance with Mademoiselle de Melvil, to whom she communicated her
complaints of Fathom, on the supposition that he was related to the
Count, as he himself had often declared.