The Monk: A Romance
to try; and should an opportunity offer of warning Don Alphonso of his
danger unobserved, I was determined to seize it with avidity. By
Baptiste’s orders I went upstairs to make the Stranger’s Bed: I spread
upon it Sheets in which a Traveller had been murdered but a few nights
before, and which still were stained with blood. I hoped that these
marks would not escape the vigilance of our Guest, and that He would
collect from them the designs of my perfidious Husband. Neither was
this the only step which I took to preserve the Stranger. Theodore was
confined to his bed by illness. I stole into his room unobserved by my
Tyrant, communicated to him my project, and He entered into it with
eagerness. He rose in spite of his malady, and dressed himself with all
speed. I fastened one of the Sheets round his arms, and lowered him
from the Window. He flew to the Stable, took Claude’s Horse, and
hastened to Strasbourg. Had He been accosted by the Banditti, He was to
have declared himself sent upon a message by Baptiste, but fortunately
He reached the Town without meeting any obstacle. Immediately upon his
arrival at Strasbourg, He entreated assistance from the Magistrature:
His Story passed from mouth to mouth, and at length came to the
knowledge of my Lord the Baron. Anxious for the safety of his Lady,
whom He knew would be upon the road that Evening, it struck him that
She might have fallen into the power of the Robbers. He accompanied
Theodore who guided the Soldiers towards the Cottage, and arrived just
in time to save us from falling once more into the hands of our
Enemies.”
Here I interrupted Marguerite to enquire why the sleepy potion had been
presented to me. She said that Baptiste supposed me to have arms about
me, and wished to incapacitate me from making resistance: It was a
precaution which He always took, since as the Travellers had no hopes
of escaping, Despair would have incited them to sell their lives
dearly.
The Baron then desired Marguerite to inform him, what were her present
plans. I joined him in declaring my readiness to show my gratitude to
her for the preservation of my life.
“Disgusted with a world,” She replied, “in which I have met with
nothing but misfortunes, my only wish is to retire into a Convent. But
first I must provide for my Children. I find that my Mother is no more,
probably driven to an untimely grave by my desertion! My Father is
still living; He is not an hard Man; Perhaps, Gentlemen, in spite of my
ingratitude and imprudence, your intercessions may induce him to
forgive me, and to take charge of his unfortunate Grand-sons. If you
obtain this boon for me, you will repay my services a thousand-fold!”
Both the Baron and myself assured Marguerite, that we would spare no
pains to obtain her pardon: and that even should her Father be
inflexible, She need be under no apprehensions respecting the fate of
her Children. I engaged myself to provide for Theodore, and the Baron
promised to take the youngest under his protection.
The grateful Mother thanked us with tears for what She called
generosity, but which in fact was no more than a proper sense of our
obligations to her. She then left the room to put her little Boy to
bed, whom fatigue and sleep had compleatly overpowered.
The Baroness, on recovering and being informed from what dangers I had
rescued her, set no bounds to the expressions of her gratitude. She was
joined so warmly by her Husband in pressing me to accompany them to
their Castle in Bavaria, that I found it impossible to resist their
entreaties. During a week which we passed at Strasbourg, the interests
of Marguerite were not forgotten: In our application to her Father we
succeeded as amply as we could wish. The good old Man had lost his
Wife: He had no Children but this unfortunate Daughter, of whom He had
received no news for almost fourteen years. He was surrounded by
distant Relations, who waited with impatience for his decease in order
to get possession of his money. When therefore Marguerite appeared
again so unexpectedly, He considered her as a gift from heaven: He
received her and her Children with open arms, and insisted upon their
establishing themselves in his House without delay. The disappointed
Cousins were obliged to give place. The old Man would not hear of his
Daughter’s retiring into a Convent: He said that She was too necessary
to his happiness, and She was easily persuaded to relinquish her
design. But no persuasions could induce Theodore to give up the plan
which I had at first marked out for him. He had attached himself to me
most sincerely during my stay at Strasbourg; and when I was on the
point of leaving it, He besought me with tears to take him into my
service: He set forth all his little talents in the most favourable
colours, and tried to convince me that I should find him of infinite
use to me upon the road. I was unwilling to charge myself with a Lad
but scarcely turned of thirteen, whom I knew could only be a burthen to
me: However, I could not resist the entreaties of this affectionate
Youth, who in fact possessed a thousand estimable qualities. With some
difficulty He persuaded his relations to let him follow me, and that
permission once obtained, He was dubbed with the title of my Page.
Having passed a week at Strasbourg, Theodore and myself set out for
Bavaria in company with the Baron and his Lady. These Latter as well as
myself had forced Marguerite to accept several presents of value, both
for herself, and her youngest Son: On leaving her, I promised his
Mother faithfully that I would restore Theodore to her within the year.
I have related this adventure at length, Lorenzo, that you might
understand the means by which “The Adventurer, Alphonso d’Alvarada got
introduced into the Castle of Lindenberg.” Judge from this specimen how
much faith should be given to your Aunt’s assertions!
CHAPTER IV.
Avaunt! and quit my sight! Let the Earth hide thee!
Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold!
Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
Which Thou dost glare with! Hence, horrible shadow!
Unreal mockery hence!
MACBETH.
Continuation of the History of Don Raymond.
My journey was uncommonly agreeable: I found the Baron a Man of some
sense, but little knowledge of the world. He had past a great part of
his life without stirring beyond the precincts of his own domains, and
consequently his manners were far from being the most polished: But He
was hearty, good-humoured, and friendly. His attention to me was all
that I could wish, and I had every reason to be satisfied with his
behaviour. His ruling passion was Hunting, which He had brought himself
to consider as a serious occupation; and when talking over some
remarkable chace, He treated the subject with as much gravity as it had
been a Battle on which the fate of two kingdoms was depending. I
happened to be a tolerable Sportsman: Soon after my arrival at
Lindenberg I gave some proofs of my dexterity. The Baron immediately
marked me down for a Man of Genius, and vowed to me an eternal
friendship.
That friendship was become to me by no means indifferent. At the Castle
of Lindenberg I beheld for the first time your Sister, the lovely
Agnes. For me whose heart was unoccupied, and who grieved at the void,
to see her and to love her were the same. I found in Agnes all that was
requisite to secure my affection. She was then scarcely sixteen; Her
person light and elegant was already formed; She possessed several
talents in perfection, particularly those of Music and drawing: Her
character was gay, open, and good-humoured; and the graceful simplicity
of her dress and manners formed an advantageous contrast to the art and
studied Coquetry of the Parisian Dames, whom I had just quitted. From
the moment that I beheld her, I felt the most lively interest in her
fate. I made many enquiries respecting her of the Baroness.
“She is my Niece,” replied that Lady; “You are still ignorant, Don
Alphonso, that I am your Countrywoman. I am Sister to the Duke of
Medina Celi: Agnes is the Daughter of my second Brother, Don Gaston:
She has been destined to the Convent from her cradle, and will soon
make her profession at Madrid.”
(Here Lorenzo interrupted the Marquis by an exclamation of surprise.
“Intended for the Convent from her cradle?” said He; “By heaven, this
is the first word that I ever heard of such a design!”
“I believe it, my dear Lorenzo,” answered Don Raymond; “But you must
listen to me with patience. You will not be less surprised, when I
relate some particulars of your family still unknown to you, and which
I have learnt from the mouth of Agnes herself.”
He then resumed his narrative as follows.)
You cannot but be aware that your Parents were unfortunately Slaves to
the grossest superstition: When this foible was called into play, their
every other sentiment, their every other passion yielded to its
irresistible strength. While She was big with Agnes, your Mother was
seized by a dangerous illness, and given over by her Physicians. In
this situation, Donna Inesilla vowed, that if She recovered from her
malady, the Child then living in her bosom if a Girl should be
dedicated to St. Clare, if a Boy to St. Benedict. Her prayers were
heard; She got rid of her complaint; Agnes entered the world alive, and
was immediately destined to the service of St. Clare.
Don Gaston readily chimed in with his Lady’s wishes: But knowing the
sentiments of the Duke, his Brother, respecting a Monastic life, it was
determined that your Sister’s destination should be carefully concealed
from him. The better to guard the secret, it was resolved that Agnes
should accompany her Aunt, Donna Rodolpha into Germany, whither that
Lady was on the point of following her new-married Husband, Baron
Lindenberg. On her arrival at that Estate, the young Agnes was put into
a Convent, situated but a few miles from the Castle. The Nuns to whom
her education was confided performed their charge with exactitude: They
made her a perfect Mistress of many talents, and strove to infuse into
her mind a taste for the retirement and tranquil pleasures of a
Convent. But a secret instinct made the young Recluse sensible that She
was not born for solitude: In all the freedom of youth and gaiety, She
scrupled not to treat as ridiculous many ceremonies which the Nuns
regarded with awe; and She was never more happy than when her lively
imagination inspired her with some scheme to plague the stiff Lady
Abbess, or the ugly ill-tempered old Porteress. She looked with disgust
upon the prospect before her: However no alternative was offered to
her, and She submitted to the decree of her Parents, though not without
secret repining.
That repugnance She had not art enough to conceal long: Don Gaston was
informed of it. Alarmed, Lorenzo, lest your affection for her should
oppose itself to his projects, and lest you should positively object to
your Sister’s misery, He resolved to keep the whole affair from _your_
knowledge as well as the Duke’s, till the sacrifice should be
consummated. The season of her taking the veil was fixed for the time
when you should be upon your travels: In the meanwhile no hint was
dropped of Donna Inesilla’s fatal vow. Your Sister was never permitted
to know your direction. All your letters were read before She received
them, and those parts effaced, which were likely to nourish her
inclination for the world: Her answers were dictated either by her
Aunt, or by Dame Cunegonda, her Governess. These particulars I learnt
partly from Agnes, partly from the Baroness herself.
I immediately determined upon rescuing this lovely Girl from a fate so
contrary to her inclinations, and ill-suited to her merit. I
endeavoured to ingratiate myself into her favour: I boasted of my