the monk(僧侣)-第39章

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Religion's　barriers　were　too　feeble　to　resist　the　overwhelming
torrent　of　his　desires。　　All　impediments　yielded　before　the　force
of　his　temperament；　warm；　sanguine；　and　voluptuous　in　the　excess。

As　yet　his　other　passions　lay　dormant；　But　they　only　needed　to　be
once　awakened；　to　display　themselves　with　violence　as　great　and
irresistible。

He　continued　to　be　the　admiration　of　Madrid。　　The　Enthusiasm
created　by　his　eloquence　seemed　rather　to　increase　than　diminish。

Every　Thursday；　which　was　the　only　day　when　He　appeared　in
public；　the　Capuchin　Cathedral　was　crowded　with　Auditors；　and
his　discourse　was　always　received　with　the　same　approbation。　　He
was　named　Confessor　to　all　the　chief　families　in　Madrid；　and　no
one　was　counted　fashionable　who　was　injoined　penance　by　any
other　than　Ambrosio。　　In　his　resolution　of　never　stirring　out　of
his　Convent；　He　still　persisted。　This　circumstance　created　a
still　greater　opinion　of　his　sanctity　and　self…denial。　　Above
all；　the　Women　sang　forth　his　praises　loudly；　less　influenced　by
devotion　than　by　his　noble　countenance；　majestic　air；　and
well…turned；　graceful　figure。　　The　Abbey　door　was　thronged　with
Carriages　from　morning　to　night；　and　the　noblest　and　fairest
Dames　of　Madrid　confessed　to　the　Abbot　their　secret　peccadilloes。

The　eyes　of　the　luxurious　Friar　devoured　their　charms：　　Had　his
Penitents　consulted　those　Interpreters；　He　would　have　needed　no
other　means　of　expressing　his　desires。　　For　his　misfortune；　they
were　so　strongly　persuaded　of　his　continence；　that　the
possibility　of　his　harbouring　indecent　thoughts　never　once
entered　their　imaginations。　　The　climate's　heat；　'tis　well　known；
operates　with　no　small　influence　upon　the　constitutions　of　the
Spanish　Ladies：　　But　the　most　abandoned　would　have　thought　it　an
easier　task　to　inspire　with　passion　the　marble　Statue　of　St。
Francis　than　the　cold　and　rigid　heart　of　the　immaculate　Ambrosio。

On　his　part；　the　Friar　was　little　acquainted　with　the　depravity
of　the　world；　He　suspected　not　that　but　few　of　his　Penitents
would　have　rejected　his　addresses。　　Yet　had　He　been　better
instructed　on　this　head；　the　danger　attending　such　an　attempt
would　have　sealed　up　his　lips　in　silence。　　He　knew　that　it　would
be　difficult　for　a　Woman　to　keep　a　secret　so　strange　and　so
important　as　his　frailty；　and　He　even　trembled　lest　Matilda
should　betray　him。　　Anxious　to　preserve　a　reputation　which　was
infinitely　dear　to　him；　He　saw　all　the　risque　of　committing　it　to
the　power　of　some　vain　giddy　Female；　and　as　the　Beauties　of
Madrid　affected　only　his　senses　without　touching　his　heart；　He
forgot　them　as　soon　as　they　were　out　of　his　sight。　　The　danger　of
discovery；　the　fear　of　being　repulsed；　the　loss　of　reputation；
all　these　considerations　counselled　him　to　stifle　his　desires：　
And　though　He　now　felt　for　it　the　most　perfect　indifference；　He
was　necessitated　to　confine　himself　to　Matilda's　person。

One　morning；　the　confluence　of　Penitents　was　greater　than　usual。　
He　was　detained　in　the　Confessional　Chair　till　a　late　hour。　　At
length　the　crowd　was　dispatched；　and　He　prepared　to　quit　the
Chapel；　when　two　Females　entered　and　drew　near　him　with
humility。　　They　threw　up　their　veils；　and　the　youngest　entreated
him　to　listen　to　her　for　a　few　moments。　　The　melody　of　her　voice；
of　that　voice　to　which　no　Man　ever　listened　without　interest；
immediately　caught　Ambrosio's　attention。　　He　stopped。　　The
Petitioner　seemed　bowed　down　with　affliction：　　Her　cheeks　were
pale；　her　eyes　dimmed　with　tears；　and　her　hair　fell　in　disorder
over　her　face　and　bosom。　　Still　her　countenance　was　so　sweet；　so
innocent；　so　heavenly；　as　might　have　charmed　an　heart　less
susceptible；　than　that　which　panted　in　the　Abbot's　breast。　　With
more　than　usual　softness　of　manner　He　desired　her　to　proceed；　and
heard　her　speak　as　follows　with　an　emotion　which　increased　every
moment。

'Reverend　Father；　you　see　an　Unfortunate；　threatened　with　the
loss　of　her　dearest；　of　almost　her　only　Friend！　　My　Mother；　my
excellent　Mother　lies　upon　the　bed　of　sickness。　　A　sudden　and
dreadful　malady　seized　her　last　night；　and　so　rapid　has　been　its
progress；　that　the　Physicians　despair　of　her　life。　　Human　aid
fails　me；　Nothing　remains　for　me　but　to　implore　the　mercy　of
Heaven。　　Father；　all　Madrid　rings　with　the　report　of　your　piety
and　virtue。　　Deign　to　remember　my　Mother　in　your　prayers：　
Perhaps　they　may　prevail　on　the　Almighty　to　spare　her；　and　should
that　be　the　case；　I　engage　myself　every　Thursday　in　the　next
three　Months　to　illuminate　the　Shrine　of　St。　Francis　in　his
honour。'

'So！'　thought　the　Monk；　'Here　we　have　a　second　Vincentio　della
Ronda。　　Rosario's　adventure　began　thus；'　and　He　wished　secretly
that　this　might　have　the　same　conclusion。

He　acceded　to　the　request。　　The　Petitioner　returned　him　thanks
with　every　mark　of　gratitude；　and　then　continued。

'I　have　yet　another　favour　to　ask。　　We　are　Strangers　in　Madrid；
My　Mother　needs　a　Confessor；　and　knows　not　to　whom　She　should
apply。　　We　understand　that　you　never　quit　the　Abbey；　and　Alas！　my
poor　Mother　is　unable　to　come　hither！　　If　you　would　have　the
goodness；　reverend　Father；　to　name　a　proper　person；　whose　wise
and　pious　consolations　may　soften　the　agonies　of　my　Parent's
deathbed；　you　will　confer　an　everlasting　favour　upon　hearts　not
ungrateful。'

With　this　petition　also　the　Monk　complied。　　Indeed；　what　petition
would　He　have　refused；　if　urged　in　such　enchanting　accents？　　The
suppliant　was　so　interesting！　　Her　voice　was　so　sweet；　so
harmonious！　　Her　very　tears　became　her；　and　her　affliction　seemed
to　add　new　lustre　to　her　charms。　　He　promised　to　send　to　her　a
Confessor　that　same　Evening；　and　begged　her　to　leave　her　address。
The　Companion　presented　him　with　a　Card　on　which　it　was　written；
and　then　withdrew　with　the　fair　Petitioner；　who　pronounced
before　her　departure　a　thousand　benedictions　on　the　Abbot's
goodness。　　His　eyes　followed　her　out　of　the　Chapel。　　It　was　not
till　She　was　out　of　sight　that　He　examined　the　Card；　on　which　He
read　the　following　words。

'Donna　Elvira　Dalfa；　Strada　di　San　Iago；　four　doors　from　the
Palace　d'Albornos。'

The　Suppliant　was　no　other　than　Antonia；　and　Leonella　was　her
Companion。　　The　Latter　had　not　consented　without　difficulty　to
accompany　her　Niece　to　the　Abbey：　　Ambrosio　had　inspired　her　with
such　awe　that　She　trembled　at　the　very　sight　of　him。　　Her　fears
had　conquered　even　her　natural　loquacity；　and　while　in　his
presence　She　uttered　not　a　single　syllable。

The　Monk　retired　to　his　Cell；　whither　He　was　pursued　by　Antonia's
image。　　He　felt　a　thousand　new　emotions　springing　in　his　bosom；
and　He　trembled　to　examine　into　the　cause　which　gave　them　birth。　
They　were　totally　different　from　those　inspired　by　Matilda；　when
She　first　declared　her　sex　and　her　affection。　　He　felt　not　the
provocation　of　lust；　No　voluptuous　desires　rioted　in　his　bosom；
Nor　did　a　burning　imagination　picture　to　him　the　charms　which
Modesty　had　veiled　from　his　eyes。　　On　the　contrary；　what　He　now
felt　was　a　mingled　sentiment　of　tenderness；　admiration；　and
respect。　　A　soft　and　delicious　melancholy　infused　itself　into　his
soul；　and　He　would　not　have　exchanged　it　for　the　most　lively
transports　of　joy。　　Society　now　disgusted　him：　　He　delighted　in
solitude；　which　permitted　his　indulging　the　visions　of　Fancy：　
His　thoughts　were　all　gentle；　sad；　and　soothing；　and　the　whole
wide　world　presented　him　with　no　other　object　than　Antonia。

'Happy　Man！'　He　exclaimed　in　his　romantic　enthusiasm；　'Happy　Man；
who　is　destined　to　possess　the　heart　of　that　lovely　Girl！　　What
delicacy　in　her　features！　　What　elegance　in　her　form！　　How
enchanting　was　the　timid　innocence　of　her　eyes；　and　how　different
from　the　wanton　expression；　the　wild　luxurious　fire　which
sparkles　in　Matilda's！　　Oh！　sweeter　must　one　kiss　be　snatched
from　the　rosy　lips　of　the　First；　than　all　the　full　and　lustful
favours　bestowed　so　freely　by　the　Second。　　Matilda　gluts　me　with
enjoyment　even　to　loathing；　forces　me　to　her　arms；　apes　the
Harlot；　and　glories　in　her　prostitution。　　Disgusting！　　Did　She
know　the　inexpressible　charm　of　Modesty；　how　irresistibly　it
enthralls　the　heart　of　Man；　how　firmly　it　chains　him　to　the
Throne　of　Beauty；　She　never　would　have　thrown　it　off。　　What　would
be　too　dear　a　price　for　this　lovely　Girl's　affections？　　What
would　I　refuse　to　sacrifice；　could　I　be　released　from　my　vows；
and　permitted　to　declare　my　love　in　the　sight　of　earth　and
heaven？　　While　I　strove　to　inspire　her　with　tenderness；　with
friendship　and　esteem；　how　tranquil　and　undisturbed　would　the
hours　roll　away！　　Gracious　God！　　To　see　her　blue　downcast　eyes
beam　upon　mine　with　timid　fondness！　　To　sit　for　days；　for　years
listening　to　that　gentle　voice！　　To　acquire　the　right　of　obliging
her；　and　hear　the　artless　expressions　of　her　gratitude！　　To　watch
the　emotions　of　her　spotless　heart！　　To　encourage　each　dawning
virtue！　　To　share　in　her　joy　when　happy；　to　kiss　away　her　tears
when　distrest；　and　to　see　her　fly　to　my　arms　for　comfort　and
support！　　Yes；　If　there　is　perfect　bliss　on　earth；　'tis　his　lot
alone；　who　becomes　that　Angel's　Husband。'

While　his　fancy　coined　these　ideas；　He　paced　his　Cell　with　a
disordered　air。　　His　eyes　were　fixed　upon　vacancy：　His　head
reclined　upon　his　shoulder；　A　tear　rolled　down　his　cheek；　while
He　reflected　that　the　vision　of　happiness　for　him　could　never　be
realized。

'She　is　lost　to　me！'　He　continued；　'By　marriage　She　cannot　be
mine：　　And　to　seduce　such　innocence；　to　use　the　confidence
reposed　in　me　to　work　her　ruin。　。　。　。　　Oh！　it　would　be　a　crime；
blacker　than　yet　the　world　ever　witnessed！　　Fear　not；　lovely
Girl！　　Your　virtue　runs　no　risque　from　me。　　Not　for　Indies　would
I　make　that　gentle　bosom　know　the　tortures　of　remorse。'

Again　He　paced　his　chamber　hastily。　　Then　stopping；　his　eye　fell
upon　the　picture　of　his　once…admired　Madona。　He　tore　it　with
indignation　from　the　wall：　　He　threw　it　on　the　ground；　and
spurned　it　from　him　with　his　foot。

'The　Prostitute！'

Unfortunate　Matilda！　Her　Paramour　forgot　that　for　his　sake　alone
She　had　forfeited　her　claim　to　virtue；　and　his　only　reason　for
despising　her　was　that　She　had　loved　him　much　too　well。

He　threw　himself　into　a　Chair　which　stood　near　the　Table。　　He
saw　the　card　with　Elvira's　address。　　He　took　it　up；　and　it
brought　to　his　recollection　his　promise　respecting　a　Confessor。　
He　passed　a　few　minutes　in　doubt：　　But　Antonia's　Empire　over　him
was　already　too　much　decided　to　permit　his　making　a　long
resistance　to　the　idea　which　struck　him。　　He　resolved　to　be　the
Confessor　himself。　　He　could　leave　the　Abbey　unobserved　without
difficulty：　　By　wrapping　up　his　head　in　his　Cowl　He　hoped　to　pass
through　the　Streets　without　being　recognised：　By　taking　these
precautions；　and　by　recommending　secrecy　to　Elvira's　family；　He
doubted　not　to　keep　Madrid　in　ignorance　that　He　had　broken　his
vow　never　to　see　the　outside　of　the　Abbey　walls。　　Matilda　was　the
only　person　whose　vigilance　He　dreaded：　　But　by　informing　her　at
the　Refectory　that　during　the　whole　of　that　day；　Business　would
confine　him　to　his　Cell；　He　thought　himself　secure　from　her
wakeful　jealousy。　　Accordingly；　at　the　hours　when　the　Spaniards
are　ge