The Monk: A Romance
made a litter of boughs and prepared to convey me to the neighbouring
Town. I enquired its name. It proved to be Ratisbon, and I could
scarcely persuade myself that I had travelled to such a distance in a
single night. I told the Countrymen that at one o’clock that morning I
had past through the Village of Rosenwald. They shook their heads
wistfully, and made signs to each other that I must certainly be
delirious. I was conveyed to a decent Inn and immediately put to bed. A
Physician was sent for, who set my arm with success. He then examined
my other hurts, and told me that I need be under no apprehension of the
consequences of any of them; But ordered me to keep myself quiet, and
be prepared for a tedious and painful cure. I answered him that if He
hoped to keep me quiet, He must first endeavour to procure me some news
of a Lady who had quitted Rosenwald in my company the night before, and
had been with me at the moment when the Coach broke down. He smiled,
and only replied by advising me to make myself easy, for that all
proper care should be taken of me. As He quitted me, the Hostess met
him at the door of the room.
“The Gentleman is not quite in his right senses;” I heard him say to
her in a low voice; “’Tis the natural consequence of his fall, but that
will soon be over.”
One after another the Peasants returned to the Inn, and informed me
that no traces had been discovered of my unfortunate Mistress.
Uneasiness now became despair. I entreated them to renew their search
in the most urgent terms, doubling the promises which I had already
made them. My wild and frantic manner confirmed the bye-standers in the
idea of my being delirious. No signs of the Lady having appeared, they
believed her to be a creature fabricated by my over-heated brain, and
paid no attention to my entreaties. However, the Hostess assured me
that a fresh enquiry should be made, but I found afterwards that her
promise was only given to quiet me. No further steps were taken in the
business.
Though my Baggage was left at Munich under the care of my French
Servant, having prepared myself for a long journey, my purse was amply
furnished: Besides my equipage proved me to be of distinction, and in
consequence all possible attention was paid me at the Inn. The day
passed away: Still no news arrived of Agnes. The anxiety of fear now
gave place to despondency. I ceased to rave about her and was plunged
in the depth of melancholy reflections. Perceiving me to be silent and
tranquil, my Attendants believed my delirium to have abated, and that
my malady had taken a favourable turn. According to the Physician’s
order I swallowed a composing medicine; and as soon as the night shut
in, my attendants withdrew and left me to repose.
That repose I wooed in vain. The agitation of my bosom chased away
sleep. Restless in my mind, in spite of the fatigue of my body, I
continued to toss about from side to side, till the Clock in a
neighbouring Steeple struck “One.” As I listened to the mournful hollow
sound, and heard it die away in the wind, I felt a sudden chillness
spread itself over my body. I shuddered without knowing wherefore; Cold
dews poured down my forehead, and my hair stood bristling with alarm.
Suddenly I heard slow and heavy steps ascending the staircase. By an
involuntary movement I started up in my bed, and drew back the curtain.
A single rush-light which glimmered upon the hearth shed a faint gleam
through the apartment, which was hung with tapestry. The door was
thrown open with violence. A figure entered, and drew near my Bed with
solemn measured steps. With trembling apprehension I examined this
midnight Visitor. God Almighty! It was the Bleeding Nun! It was my lost
Companion! Her face was still veiled, but She no longer held her Lamp
and dagger. She lifted up her veil slowly. What a sight presented
itself to my startled eyes! I beheld before me an animated Corse. Her
countenance was long and haggard; Her cheeks and lips were bloodless;
The paleness of death was spread over her features, and her eyeballs
fixed stedfastly upon me were lustreless and hollow.
I gazed upon the Spectre with horror too great to be described. My
blood was frozen in my veins. I would have called for aid, but the
sound expired ere it could pass my lips. My nerves were bound up in
impotence, and I remained in the same attitude inanimate as a Statue.
The visionary Nun looked upon me for some minutes in silence: There was
something petrifying in her regard. At length in a low sepulchral voice
She pronounced the following words:
‘Raymond! Raymond! Thou art mine!
Raymond! Raymond! I am thine!
In thy veins while blood shall roll,
I am thine!
Thou art mine!
Mine thy body! Mine thy soul!——’
Breathless with fear, I listened while She repeated my own expressions.
The Apparition seated herself opposite to me at the foot of the Bed,
and was silent. Her eyes were fixed earnestly upon mine: They seemed
endowed with the property of the Rattlesnake’s, for I strove in vain to
look off her. My eyes were fascinated, and I had not the power of
withdrawing them from the Spectre’s.
In this attitude She remained for a whole long hour without speaking or
moving; nor was I able to do either. At length the Clock struck two.
The Apparition rose from her seat, and approached the side of the bed.
She grasped with her icy fingers my hand which hung lifeless upon the
Coverture, and pressing her cold lips to mine, again repeated,
‘Raymond! Raymond! Thou art mine!
Raymond! Raymond! I am thine! &c.—’
She then dropped my hand, quitted the chamber with slow steps, and the
Door closed after her. Till that moment the faculties of my body had
been all suspended; Those of my mind had alone been waking. The charm
now ceased to operate: The blood which had been frozen in my veins
rushed back to my heart with violence: I uttered a deep groan, and sank
lifeless upon my pillow.
The adjoining room was only separated from mine by a thin partition: It
was occupied by the Host and his Wife: The Former was rouzed by my
groan, and immediately hastened to my chamber: The Hostess soon
followed him. With some difficulty they succeeded in restoring me to my
senses, and immediately sent for the Physician, who arrived in all
diligence. He declared my fever to be very much increased, and that if
I continued to suffer such violent agitation, He would not take upon
him to ensure my life. Some medicines which He gave me in some degree
tranquillized my spirits. I fell into a sort of slumber towards
daybreak; But fearful dreams prevented me from deriving any benefit
from my repose. Agnes and the Bleeding Nun presented themselves by
turns to my fancy, and combined to harass and torment me. I awoke
fatigued and unrefreshed. My fever seemed rather augmented than
diminished; The agitation of my mind impeded my fractured bones from
knitting: I had frequent fainting fits, and during the whole day the
Physician judged it expedient not to quit me for two hours together.
The singularity of my adventure made me determine to conceal it from
every one, since I could not expect that a circumstance so strange
should gain credit. I was very uneasy about Agnes. I knew not what She
would think at not finding me at the rendezvous, and dreaded her
entertaining suspicions of my fidelity. However, I depended upon
Theodore’s discretion, and trusted that my letter to the Baroness would
convince her of the rectitude of my intentions. These considerations
somewhat lightened my inquietude upon her account: But the impression
left upon my mind by my nocturnal Visitor grew stronger with every
succeeding moment. The night drew near; I dreaded its arrival. Yet I
strove to persuade myself that the Ghost would appear no more, and at
all events I desired that a Servant might sit up in my chamber.
The fatigue of my body from not having slept on the former night,
co-operating with the strong opiates administered to me in profusion,
at length procured me that repose of which I was so much in need. I
sank into a profound and tranquil slumber, and had already slept for
some hours, when the neighbouring Clock rouzed me by striking “One”.
Its sound brought with it to my memory all the horrors of the night
before. The same cold shivering seized me. I started up in my bed, and
perceived the Servant fast asleep in an armed-Chair near me. I called
him by his name: He made no answer. I shook him forcibly by the arm,
and strove in vain to wake him. He was perfectly insensible to my
efforts. I now heard the heavy steps ascending the staircase; The Door
was thrown open, and again the Bleeding Nun stood before me. Once more
my limbs were chained in second infancy. Once more I heard those fatal
words repeated,
‘Raymond! Raymond! Thou art mine!
Raymond! Raymond! I am thine! &c.——’
The scene which had shocked me so sensibly on the former night, was
again presented. The Spectre again pressed her lips to mine, again
touched me with her rotting fingers, and as on her first appearance,
quitted the chamber as soon as the Clock told “Two.”
Even night was this repeated. Far from growing accustomed to the Ghost,
every succeeding visit inspired me with greater horror. Her idea
pursued me continually, and I became the prey of habitual melancholy.
The constant agitation of my mind naturally retarded the
re-establishment of my health. Several months elapsed before I was able
to quit my bed; and when at length I was moved to a Sopha, I was so
faint, spiritless, and emaciated, that I could not cross the room
without assistance. The looks of my Attendants sufficiently denoted the
little hope, which they entertained of my recovery. The profound
sadness, which oppressed me without remission made the Physician
consider me to be an Hypochondriac. The cause of my distress I
carefully concealed in my own bosom, for I knew that no one could give
me relief: The Ghost was not even visible to any eye but mine. I had
frequently caused Attendants to sit up in my room: But the moment that
the Clock struck “One,” irresistible slumber seized them, nor left them
till the departure of the Ghost.
You may be surprized that during this time I made no enquiries after
your Sister. Theodore, who with difficulty had discovered my abode, had
quieted my apprehensions for her safety: At the same time He convinced
me that all attempts to release her from captivity must be fruitless
till I should be in a condition to return to Spain. The particulars of
her adventure which I shall now relate to you, were partly communicated
to me by Theodore, and partly by Agnes herself.
On the fatal night when her elopement was to have taken place, accident
had not permitted her to quit her chamber at the appointed time. At
length She ventured into the haunted room, descended the staircase
leading into the Hall, found the Gates open as She expected, and left
the Castle unobserved. What was her surprize at not finding me ready to
receive her! She examined the Cavern, ranged through every Alley of the
neighbouring wood, and passed two full hours in this fruitless enquiry.
She could discover no traces either of me or of the Carriage. Alarmed
and disappointed, her only resource was to return to the Castle before
the Baroness missed her: But here She found herself in a fresh
embarrassment. The Bell had already tolled “Two:” The Ghostly hour was
past, and the careful Porter had locked the folding gates. After much
irresolution She ventured to knock softly. Luckily for her, Conrad was
still awake: He heard the noise and rose, murmuring at being called up
a second time. No sooner had He opened one of the Doors, and beheld the
supposed Apparition waiting there for admittance, than He uttered a
loud cry, and sank upon his knees. Agnes profited by his terror. She