the monk(僧侣)-第11章

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protestations　of　eternal　love；　threw　her　arms　round　his　neck；　and
loaded　him　with　kisses：　　He　returned　them；　He　clasped　her
passionately　to　his　bosom；　and　。　。　。　the　vision　was　dissolved。
Sometimes　his　dreams　presented　the　image　of　his　favourite　Madona；
and　He　fancied　that　He　was　kneeling　before　her：　　As　He　offered　up
his　vows　to　her；　the　eyes　of　the　Figure　seemed　to　beam　on　him
with　inexpressible　sweetness。　　He　pressed　his　lips　to　hers；　and
found　them　warm：　　The　animated　form　started　from　the　Canvas；
embraced　him　affectionately；　and　his　senses　were　unable　to
support　delight　so　exquisite。　　Such　were　the　scenes；　on　which　his
thoughts　were　employed　while　sleeping：　　His　unsatisfied　Desires
placed　before　him　the　most　lustful　and　provoking　Images；　and　he
rioted　in　joys　till　then　unknown　to　him。

He　started　from　his　Couch；　filled　with　confusion　at　the
remembrance　of　his　dreams。　　Scarcely　was　He　less　ashamed；　when　He
reflected　on　his　reasons　of　the　former　night　which　induced　him
to　authorize　Matilda's　stay。　The　cloud　was　now　dissipated　which
had　obscured　his　judgment：　　He　shuddered　when　He　beheld　his
arguments　blazoned　in　their　proper　colours；　and　found　that　He　had
been　a　slave　to　flattery；　to　avarice；　and　self…love。　　If　in　one
hour's　conversation　Matilda　had　produced　a　change　so　remarkable
in　his　sentiments；　what　had　He　not　to　dread　from　her　remaining　in
the　Abbey？　　Become　sensible　of　his　danger；　awakened　from　his
dream　of　confidence；　He　resolved　to　insist　on　her　departing
without　delay。　　He　began　to　feel　that　He　was　not　proof　against
temptation；　and　that　however　Matilda　might　restrain　herself
within　the　bounds　of　modesty；　He　was　unable　to　contend　with　those
passions；　from　which　He　falsely　thought　himself　exempted。

'Agnes！　　Agnes！'　He　exclaimed；　while　reflecting　on　his
embarrassments；　'I　already　feel　thy　curse！'

He　quitted　his　Cell；　determined　upon　dismissing　the　feigned
Rosario。　　He　appeared　at　Matins；　But　his　thoughts　were　absent；
and　He　paid　them　but　little　attention。　　His　heart　and　brain　were
both　of　them　filled　with　worldly　objects；　and　He　prayed　without
devotion。　The　service　over；　He　descended　into　the　Garden。　　He
bent　his　steps　towards　the　same　spot　where；　on　the　preceding
night；　He　had　made　this　embarrassing　discovery。　　He　doubted　not
but　that　Matilda　would　seek　him　there：　　He　was　not　deceived。　　She
soon　entered　the　Hermitage；　and　approached　the　Monk　with　a　timid
air。　　After　a　few　minutes　during　which　both　were　silent；　She
appeared　as　if　on　the　point　of　speaking；　But　the　Abbot；　who
during　this　time　had　been　summoning　up　all　his　resolution；
hastily　interrupted　her。　　Though　still　unconscious　how　extensive
was　its　influence；　He　dreaded　the　melodious　seduction　of　her
voice。

'Seat　yourself　by　my　side；　Matilda；'　said　He；　assuming　a　look　of
firmness；　though　carefully　avoiding　the　least　mixture　of
severity；　'Listen　to　me　patiently；　and　believe；　that　in　what　I
shall　say；　I　am　not　more　influenced　by　my　own　interest　than　by
yours：　　Believe；　that　I　feel　for　you　the　warmest　friendship；　the
truest　compassion；　and　that　you　cannot　feel　more　grieved　than　I
do；　when　I　declare　to　you　that　we　must　never　meet　again。'

'Ambrosio！'　She　cried；　in　a　voice　at　once　expressive　of　surprise
and　sorrow。

'Be　calm；　my　Friend！　　My　Rosario！　　Still　let　me　call　you　by　that
name　so　dear　to　me！　　Our　separation　is　unavoidable；　I　blush　to
own；　how　sensibly　it　affects　me。　But　yet　it　must　be　so。　　I　feel
myself　incapable　of　treating　you　with　indifference；　and　that　very
conviction　obliges　me　to　insist　upon　your　departure。　　Matilda；
you　must　stay　here　no　longer。'

'Oh！　where　shall　I　now　seek　for　probity？　　Disgusted　with　a
perfidious　world；　in　what　happy　region　does　Truth　conceal
herself？　　Father；　I　hoped　that　She　resided　here；　I　thought　that
your　bosom　had　been　her　favourite　shrine。　　And　you　too　prove
false？　　Oh　God！　　And　you　too　can　betray　me？'

'Matilda！'

'Yes；　Father；　Yes！　'Tis　with　justice　that　I　reproach　you。　　Oh！
where　are　your　promises？　　My　Noviciate　is　not　expired；　and　yet
will　you　compell　me　to　quit　the　Monastery？　　Can　you　have　the
heart　to　drive　me　from　you？　　And　have　I　not　received　your　solemn
oath　to　the　contrary？'

'I　will　not　compell　you　to　quit　the　Monastery：　　You　have　received
my　solemn　oath　to　the　contrary。　　But　yet　when　I　throw　myself　upon
your　generosity；　when　I　declare　to　you　the　embarrassments　in
which　your　presence　involves　me；　will　you　not　release　me　from
that　oath？　　Reflect　upon　the　danger　of　a　discovery；　upon　the
opprobrium　in　which　such　an　event　would　plunge　me：　Reflect　that
my　honour　and　reputation　are　at　stake；　and　that　my　peace　of　mind
depends　on　your　compliance。　　As　yet　my　heart　is　free；　I　shall
separate　from　you　with　regret；　but　not　with　despair。　　Stay　here；
and　a　few　weeks　will　sacrifice　my　happiness　on　the　altar　of　your
charms。　　You　are　but　too　interesting；　too　amiable！　　I　should　love
you；　I　should　doat　on　you！　　My　bosom　would　become　the　prey　of
desires　which　Honour　and　my　profession　forbid　me　to　gratify。　　If
I　resisted　them；　the　impetuosity　of　my　wishes　unsatisfied　would
drive　me　to　madness：　　If　I　yielded　to　the　temptation；　I　should
sacrifice　to　one　moment　of　guilty　pleasure　my　reputation　in　this
world；　my　salvation　in　the　next。　　To　you　then　I　fly　for　defence
against　myself。　　Preserve　me　from　losing　the　reward　of　thirty
years　of　sufferings！　　Preserve　me　from　becoming　the　Victim　of
Remorse！　　YOUR　heart　has　already　felt　the　anguish　of　hopeless
love；　Oh！　then　if　you　really　value　me；　spare　mine　that　anguish！　
Give　me　back　my　promise；　Fly　from　these　walls。　　Go；　and　you　bear
with　you　my　warmest　prayers　for　your　happiness；　my　friendship；　my
esteem　and　admiration：　　Stay；　and　you　become　to　me　the　source　of
danger；　of　sufferings；　of　despair！　　Answer　me；　Matilda；　What　is
your　resolve？'She　was　silent'Will　you　not　speak；　Matilda？　
Will　you　not　name　your　choice？'

'Cruel！　Cruel！'　She　exclaimed；　wringing　her　hands　in　agony；　'You
know　too　well　that　you　offer　me　no　choice！　You　know　too　well　that
I　can　have　no　will　but　yours！'

'I　was　not　then　deceived！　　Matilda's　generosity　equals　my
expectations。'

'Yes；　I　will　prove　the　truth　of　my　affection　by　submitting　to　a
decree　which　cuts　me　to　the　very　heart。　　Take　back　your　promise。　
I　will　quit　the　Monastery　this　very　day。　　I　have　a　Relation；
Abbess　of　a　Covent　in　Estramadura：　　To　her　will　I　bend　my　steps；
and　shut　myself　from　the　world　for　ever。　　Yet　tell　me；　Father；
Shall　I　bear　your　good　wishes　with　me　to　my　solitude？　　Will　you
sometimes　abstract　your　attention　from　heavenly　objects　to　bestow
a　thought　upon　me？'

'Ah！　Matilda；　I　fear　that　I　shall　think　on　you　but　too　often　for
my　repose！'

'Then　I　have　nothing　more　to　wish　for；　save　that　we　may　meet　in
heaven。　　Farewell；　my　Friend！　my　Ambrosio！　And　yet　methinks；　I
would　fain　bear　with　me　some　token　of　your　regard！'

'What　shall　I　give　you？'

'Something。Any　thing。One　of　those　flowers　will　be
sufficient。'　（Here　She　pointed　to　a　bush　of　Roses；　planted　at　the
door　of　the　Grotto。）　　'I　will　hide　it　in　my　bosom；　and　when　I　am
dead；　the　Nuns　shall　find　it　withered　upon　my　heart。'

The　Friar　was　unable　to　reply：　　With　slow　steps；　and　a　soul　heavy
with　affliction；　He　quitted　the　Hermitage。　　He　approached　the
Bush；　and　stooped　to　pluck　one　of　the　Roses。　　Suddenly　He　uttered
a　piercing　cry；　started　back　hastily；　and　let　the　flower；　which
He　already　held；　fall　from　his　hand。　　Matilda　heard　the　shriek；
and　flew　anxiously　towards　him。

'What　is　the　matter？'　She　cried；　'Answer　me；　for　God's　sake！　
What　has　happened？'

'I　have　received　my　death！'　He　replied　in　a　faint　voice；
'Concealed　among　the　Roses　。　。　。　　A　Serpent。　。　。　。'

Here　the　pain　of　his　wound　became　so　exquisite；　that　Nature　was
unable　to　bear　it：　　His　senses　abandoned　him；　and　He　sank
inanimate　into　Matilda's　arms。

Her　distress　was　beyond　the　power　of　description。　　She　rent　her
hair；　beat　her　bosom；　and　not　daring　to　quit　Ambrosio；
endeavoured　by　loud　cries　to　summon　the　Monks　to　her　assistance。　
She　at　length　succeeded。　　Alarmed　by　her　shrieks；　Several　of　the
Brothers　hastened　to　the　spot；　and　the　Superior　was　conveyed　back
to　the　Abbey。　　He　was　immediately　put　to　bed；　and　the　Monk　who
officiated　as　Surgeon　to　the　Fraternity　prepared　to　examine　the
wound。　　By　this　time　Ambrosio's　hand　had　swelled　to　an
extraordinary　size；　The　remedies　which　had　been　administered　to
him；　'tis　true；　restored　him　to　life；　but　not　to　his　senses；　He
raved　in　all　the　horrors　of　delirium；　foamed　at　the　mouth；　and
four　of　the　strongest　Monks　were　scarcely　able　to　hold　him　in　his
bed。

Father　Pablos；　such　was　the　Surgeon's　name；　hastened　to　examine
the　wounded　hand。　　The　Monks　surrounded　the　Bed；　anxiously
waiting　for　the　decision：　　Among　these　the　feigned　Rosario
appeared　not　the　most　insensible　to　the　Friar's　calamity。　　He
gazed　upon　the　Sufferer　with　inexpressible　anguish；　and　the
groans　which　every　moment　escaped　from　his　bosom　sufficiently
betrayed　the　violence　of　his　affliction。

Father　Pablos　probed　the　wound。　　As　He　drew　out　his　Lancet；　its
point　was　tinged　with　a　greenish　hue。　　He　shook　his　head
mournfully；　and　quitted　the　bedside。

'　'Tis　as　I　feared！'　said　He；　'There　is　no　hope。'

'No　hope？'　exclaimed　the　Monks　with　one　voice；　'Say　you；　no
hope？'

'From　the　sudden　effects；　I　suspected　that　the　Abbot　was　stung　by
a　Cientipedoro：　The　venom　which　you　see　upon　my　Lancet
confirms　my　idea：　　He　cannot　live　three　days。'

'And　can　no　possible　remedy　be　found？'　enquired　Rosario。

'Without　extracting　the　poison；　He　cannot　recover；　and　how　to
extract　it　is　to　me　still　a　secret。　　All　that　I　can　do　is　to
apply　such　herbs　to　the　wound　as　will　relieve　the　anguish：　　The
Patient　will　be　restored　to　his　senses；　But　the　venom　will
corrupt　the　whole　mass　of　his　blood；　and　in　three　days　He　will
exist　no　longer。'

Excessive　was　the　universal　grief　at　hearing　this　decision。　
Pablos；　as　He　had　promised；　dressed　the　wound；　and　then　retired；
followed　by　his　Companions：　　Rosario　alone　remained　in　the　Cell；
the　Abbot　at　his　urgent　entreaty　having　been　committed　to　his
care。　　Ambrosio's　strength　worn　out　by　the　violence　of　his
exertions；　He　had　by　this　time　fallen　into　a　profound　sleep。　　So
totally　was　He　overcome　by　weariness；　that　He　scarcely　gave　any
signs　of　life；　He　was　still　in　this　situation；　when　the　Monks
returned　to　enquire　whether　any　change　had　taken　place。　　Pablos
loosened　the　bandage　which　concealed　the　wound；　more　from　a
principle　of　curiosity　than　from　indulging　the　hope　of
discovering　any　favourable　symptoms。　　What　was　his　astonishment
at　finding；　that　the　inflammation　had　totally　subsided！　　He
probed　the　hand；　His　Lancet　came　out　pure　and　unsullied；　No
traces　of　the　venom　were　perceptible；　and　had　not　the　orifice
still　been　visible；　Pablos　might　have　doubted　that　there　had　ever
been　a　wound。

He　communicated　this　intelligence　to　his　Brethren；　their　delight
was　only　equalled　by　their　surprize。　　From　the　latter　sentiment；
however；　they　were　soon　released　by　explaining　the　circumstance
according　to　their　own　ideas：　　They　were　perfectly　convinced　that
their　Superior　was　a　Saint；　and　thought；　that　nothing　could　be
more　natural　than　for　S