volume02-第22章

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d；　and　trembled　at　the　consequences　of　a　discovery。　　He　looked　forward　with　horror；　His　heart　was　despondent；　and　became　the　abode　of　satiety　and　disgust。　　He　avoided　the　eyes　of　his　Partner　in　frailty；　A　melancholy　silence　prevailed；　during　which　Both　seemed　busied　with　disagreable　reflections。

Matilda　was　the　first　to　break　it。　　She　took　his　hand　gently；　and　pressed　it　to　her　burning　lips。

'Ambrosio！'　　She　murmured　in　a　soft　and　trembling　voice。

The　Abbot　started　at　the　sound。　　He　turned　his　eyes　upon　Matilda's：　　They　were　filled　with　tears；　Her　cheeks　were　covered　with　blushes；　and　her　supplicating　looks　seemed　to　solicit　his　compassion。

'Dangerous　Woman！'　said　He；　'Into　what　an　abyss　of　misery　have　you　plunged　me！　　Should　your　sex　be　discovered；　my　honour；　nay　my　life；　must　pay　for　the　pleasure　of　a　few　moments。　　Fool　that　I　was；　to　trust　myself　to　your　seductions！　　What　can　now　be　done？　　How　can　my　offence　be　expiated？　　What　atonement　can　purchase　the　pardon　of　my　crime？　　Wretched　Matilda；　you　have　destroyed　my　quiet　for　ever！'

'To　me　these　reproaches；　Ambrosio？　　To　me；　who　have　sacrificed　for　you　the　world's　pleasures；　the　luxury　of　wealth；　the　delicacy　of　sex；　my　Friends；　my　fortune；　and　my　fame？　　What　have　you　lost；　which　I　preserved？　　Have　_I_　not　shared　in　YOUR　guilt？　　Have　YOU　not　shared　in　MY　pleasure？　　Guilt；　did　I　say？　　In　what　consists　ours；　unless　in　the　opinion　of　an　ill…judging　World？　　Let　that　World　be　ignorant　of　them；　and　our　joys　become　divine　and　blameless！　　Unnatural　were　your　vows　of　Celibacy；　Man　was　not　created　for　such　a　state；　And　were　Love　a　crime；　God　never　would　have　made　it　so　sweet；　so　irresistible！　　Then　banish　those　clouds　from　your　brow；　my　Ambrosio！　　Indulge　in　those　pleasures　freely；　without　which　life　is　a　worthless　gift：　　Cease　to　reproach　me　with　having　taught　you　what　is　bliss；　and　feel　equal　transports　with　the　Woman　who　adores　you！'

As　She　spoke；　her　eyes　were　filled　with　a　delicious　languor。　　Her　bosom　panted：　　She　twined　her　arms　voluptuously　round　him；　drew　him　towards　her；　and　glewed　her　lips　to　his。　　Ambrosio　again　raged　with　desire：　　The　die　was　thrown：　　His　vows　were　already　broken；　He　had　already　committed　the　crime；　and　why　should　He　refrain　from　enjoying　its　reward？　　He　clasped　her　to　his　breast　with　redoubled　ardour。　　No　longer　repressed　by　the　sense　of　shame；　He　gave　a　loose　to　his　intemperate　appetites。　　While　the　fair　Wanton　put　every　invention　of　lust　in　practice；　every　refinement　in　the　art　of　pleasure　which　might　heighten　the　bliss　of　her　possession；　and　render　her　Lover's　transports　still　more　exquisite；　Ambrosio　rioted　in　delights　till　then　unknown　to　him：　　Swift　fled　the　night；　and　the　Morning　blushed　to　behold　him　still　clasped　in　the　embraces　of　Matilda。

Intoxicated　with　pleasure；　the　Monk　rose　from　the　Syren's　luxurious　Couch。　　He　no　longer　reflected　with　shame　upon　his　incontinence；　or　dreaded　the　vengeance　of　offended　heaven。　　His　only　fear　was　lest　Death　should　rob　him　of　enjoyments；　for　which　his　long　Fast　had　only　given　a　keener　edge　to　his　appetite。　　Matilda　was　still　under　the　influence　of　poison；　and　the　voluptuous　Monk　trembled　less　for　his　Preserver's　life　than　his　Concubine's。　　Deprived　of　her；　He　would　not　easily　find　another　Mistress　with　whom　He　could　indulge　his　passions　so　fully；　and　so　safely。　　He　therefore　pressed　her　with　earnestness　to　use　the　means　of　preservation　which　She　had　declared　to　be　in　her　possession。

'Yes！'　replied　Matilda；　'Since　you　have　made　me　feel　that　Life　is　valuable；　I　will　rescue　mine　at　any　rate。　　No　dangers　shall　appall　me：　　I　will　look　upon　the　consequences　of　my　action　boldly；　nor　shudder　at　the　horrors　which　they　present。　　I　will　think　my　sacrifice　scarcely　worthy　to　purchase　your　possession；　and　remember　that　a　moment　past　in　your　arms　in　this　world　o'er…pays　an　age　of　punishment　in　the　next。　　But　before　I　take　this　step；　Ambrosio；　give　me　your　solemn　oath　never　to　enquire　by　what　means　I　shall　preserve　myself。'

He　did　so　in　a　manner　the　most　binding。

'I　thank　you；　my　Beloved。　　This　precaution　is　necessary；　for　though　you　know　it　not；　you　are　under　the　command　of　vulgar　prejudices：　　The　Business　on　which　I　must　be　employed　this　night；　might　startle　you　from　its　singularity；　and　lower　me　in　your　opinion。　　Tell　me；　Are　you　possessed　of　the　Key　of　the　low　door　on　the　western　side　of　the　Garden？'

'The　Door　which　opens　into　the　burying…ground　common　to　us　and　the　Sisterhood　of　St。　Clare？　　I　have　not　the　Key；　but　can　easily　procure　it。'

'You　have　only　this　to　do。　　Admit　me　into　the　burying…ground　at　midnight；　Watch　while　I　descend　into　the　vaults　of　St。　Clare；　lest　some　prying　eye　should　observe　my　actions；　Leave　me　there　alone　for　an　hour；　and　that　life　is　safe　which　I　dedicate　to　your　pleasures。　　To　prevent　creating　suspicion；　do　not　visit　me　during　the　day。　Remember　the　Key；　and　that　I　expect　you　before　twelve。　　Hark！　　I　hear　steps　approaching！　　Leave　me；　I　will　pretend　to　sleep。'

The　Friar　obeyed；　and　left　the　Cell。　　As　He　opened　the　door；　Father　Pablos　made　his　appearance。

'I　come；'　said　the　Latter；　'to　enquire　after　the　health　of　my　young　Patient。'

'Hush！'　replied　Ambrosio；　laying　his　finger　upon　his　lip；　'Speak　softly；　I　am　just　come　from　him。　　He　has　fallen　into　a　profound　slumber；　which　doubtless　will　be　of　service　to　him。　　Do　not　disturb　him　at　present；　for　He　wishes　to　repose。'

Father　Pablos　obeyed；　and　hearing　the　Bell　ring；　accompanied　the　Abbot　to　Matins。　　Ambrosio　felt　embarrassed　as　He　entered　the　Chapel。　　Guilt　was　new　to　him；　and　He　fancied　that　every　eye　could　read　the　transactions　of　the　night　upon　his　countenance。　　He　strove　to　pray；　His　bosom　no　longer　glowed　with　devotion；　His　thoughts　insensibly　wandered　to　Matilda's　secret　charms。　　But　what　He　wanted　in　purity　of　heart；　He　supplied　by　exterior　sanctity。　　The　better　to　cloak　his　transgression；　He　redoubled　his　pretensions　to　the　semblance　of　virtue；　and　never　appeared　more　devoted　to　Heaven　as　since　He　had　broken　through　his　engagements。　　Thus　did　He　unconsciously　add　Hypocrisy　to　perjury　and　incontinence；　He　had　fallen　into　the　latter　errors　from　yielding　to　seduction　almost　irresistible；　But　he　was　now　guilty　of　a　voluntary　fault　by　endeavouring　to　conceal　those　into　which　Another　had　betrayed　him。

The　Matins　concluded；　Ambrosio　retired　to　his　Cell。　　The　pleasures　which　He　had　just　tasted　for　the　first　time　were　still　impressed　upon　his　mind。　　His　brain　was　bewildered；　and　presented　a　confused　Chaos　of　remorse；　voluptuousness；　inquietude；　and　fear。　　He　looked　back　with　regret　to　that　peace　of　soul；　that　security　of　virtue；　which　till　then　had　been　his　portion。　　He　had　indulged　in　excesses　whose　very　idea　but　four　and　twenty　hours　before　He　had　recoiled　at　with　horror。　　He　shuddered　at　reflecting　that　a　trifling　indiscretion　on　his　part；　or　on　Matilda's；　would　overturn　that　fabric　of　reputation　which　it　had　cost　him　thirty　years　to　erect；　and　render　him　the　abhorrence　of　that　People　of　whom　He　was　then　the　Idol。　　Conscience　painted　to　him　in　glaring　colours　his　perjury　and　weakness；　Apprehension　magnified　to　him　the　horrors　of　punishment；　and　He　already　fancied　himself　in　the　prisons　of　the　Inquisition。　　To　these　tormenting　ideas　succeeded　Matilda's　beauty；　and　those　delicious　lessons　which；　once　learnt；　can　never　be　forgotten。　　A　single　glance　thrown　upon　these　reconciled　him　with　himself。　　He　considered　the　pleasures　of　the　former　night　to　have　been　purchased　at　an　easy　price　by　the　sacrifice　of　innocence　and　honour。　　Their　very　remembrance　filled　his　soul　with　ecstacy；　He　cursed　his　foolish　vanity；　which　had　induced　him　to　waste　in　obscurity　the　bloom　of　life；　ignorant　of　the　blessings　of　Love　and　Woman。　　He　determined　at　all　events　to　continue　his　commerce　with　Matilda；　and　called　every　argument　to　his　aid　which　might　confirm　his　resolution。　He　asked　himself；　provided　his　irregularity　was　unknown；　in　what　would　his　fault　consist；　and　what　consequences　He　had　to　apprehend？　　By　adhering　strictly　to　every　rule　of　his　order　save　Chastity；　He　doubted　not　to　retain　the　esteem　of　Men；　and　even　the　protection　of　heaven。　　He　trusted　easily　to　be　forgiven　so　slight　and　natural　a　deviation　from　his　vows：　　But