volume02-第3章

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；　still　undetermined　whether　I　should　acquaint　her　with　the　declaration　of　the　Baroness。

'Oh！　is　it　only　you？'　said　She；　raising　her　head；　'You　are　no　Stranger；　and　I　shall　continue　my　occupation　without　ceremony。　　Take　a　Chair；　and　seat　yourself　by　me。'

I　obeyed；　and　placed　myself　near　the　Table。　　Unconscious　what　I　was　doing；　and　totally　occupied　by　the　scene　which　had　just　passed；　I　took　up　some　of　the　drawings；　and　cast　my　eye　over　them。　　One　of　the　subjects　struck　me　from　its　singularity。　　It　represented　the　great　Hall　of　the　Castle　of　Lindenberg。　　A　door　conducting　to　a　narrow　staircase　stood　half　open。　　In　the　foreground　appeared　a　Groupe　of　figures；　placed　in　the　most　grotesque　attitudes；　Terror　was　expressed　upon　every　countenance。

Here　was　One　upon　his　knees　with　his　eyes　cast　up　to　heaven；　and　praying　most　devoutly；　There　Another　was　creeping　away　upon　all　fours。　　Some　hid　their　faces　in　their　cloaks　or　the　laps　of　their　Companions；　Some　had　concealed　themselves　beneath　a　Table；　on　which　the　remnants　of　a　feast　were　visible；　While　Others　with　gaping　mouths　and　eyes　wide…stretched　pointed　to　a　Figure；　supposed　to　have　created　this　disturbance。　　It　represented　a　Female　of　more　than　human　stature；　clothed　in　the　habit　of　some　religious　order。　　Her　face　was　veiled；　On　her　arm　hung　a　chaplet　of　beads；　Her　dress　was　in　several　places　stained　with　the　blood　which　trickled　from　a　wound　upon　her　bosom。　In　one　hand　She　held　a　Lamp；　in　the　other　a　large　Knife；　and　She　seemed　advancing　towards　the　iron　gates　of　the　Hall。

'What　does　this　mean；　Agnes？'　said　I；　'Is　this　some　invention　of　your　own？'

She　cast　her　eye　upon　the　drawing。

'Oh！　no；'　She　replied；　'　'Tis　the　invention　of　much　wiser　heads　than　mine。　　But　can　you　possibly　have　lived　at　Lindenberg　for　three　whole　Months　without　hearing　of　the　Bleeding　Nun？'

'You　are　the　first；　who　ever　mentioned　the　name　to　me。　　Pray；　who　may　the　Lady　be？'

'That　is　more　than　I　can　pretend　to　tell　you。　　All　my　knowledge　of　her　History　comes　from　an　old　tradition　in　this　family；　which　has　been　handed　down　from　Father　to　Son；　and　is　firmly　credited　throughout　the　Baron's　domains。　　Nay；　the　Baron　believes　it　himself；　and　as　for　my　Aunt　who　has　a　natural　turn　for　the　marvellous；　She　would　sooner　doubt　the　veracity　of　the　Bible；　than　of　the　Bleeding　Nun。　　Shall　I　tell　you　this　History？'

I　answered　that　She　would　oblige　me　much　by　relating　it：　　She　resumed　her　drawing；　and　then　proceeded　as　follows　in　a　tone　of　burlesqued　gravity。

'It　is　surprising　that　in　all　the　Chronicles　of　past　times；　this　remarkable　Personage　is　never　once　mentioned。　　Fain　would　I　recount　to　you　her　life；　But　unluckily　till　after　her　death　She　was　never　known　to　have　existed。　　Then　first　did　She　think　it　necessary　to　make　some　noise　in　the　world；　and　with　that　intention　She　made　bold　to　seize　upon　the　Castle　of　Lindenberg。　　Having　a　good　taste；　She　took　up　her　abode　in　the　best　room　of　the　House：　　and　once　established　there；　She　began　to　amuse　herself　by　knocking　about　the　tables　and　chairs　in　the　middle　of　the　night。　　Perhaps　She　was　a　bad　Sleeper；　but　this　I　have　never　been　able　to　ascertain。　　According　to　the　tradition；　this　entertainment　commenced　about　a　Century　ago。　　It　was　accompanied　with　shrieking；　howling；　groaning；　swearing；　and　many　other　agreeable　noises　of　the　same　kind。　　But　though　one　particular　room　was　more　especially　honoured　with　her　visits；　She　did　not　entirely　confine　herself　to　it。　　She　occasionally　ventured　into　the　old　Galleries；　paced　up　and　down　the　spacious　Halls；　or　sometimes　stopping　at　the　doors　of　the　Chambers；　She　wept　and　wailed　there　to　the　universal　terror　of　the　Inhabitants。　　In　these　nocturnal　excursions　She　was　seen　by　different　People；　who　all　describe　her　appearance　as　you　behold　it　here；　traced　by　the　hand　of　her　unworthy　Historian。'

The　singularity　of　this　account　insensibly　engaged　my　attention。

'Did　She　never　speak　to　those　who　met　her？'　said　I。

'Not　She。　　The　specimens　indeed；　which　She　gave　nightly　of　her　talents　for　conversation；　were　by　no　means　inviting。　　Sometimes　the　Castle　rung　with　oaths　and　execrations：　　A　Moment　after　She　repeated　her　Paternoster：　Now　She　howled　out　the　most　horrible　blasphemies；　and　then　chaunted　De　Profundis；　as　orderly　as　if　still　in　the　Choir。　　In　short　She　seemed　a　mighty　capricious　Being：　　But　whether　She　prayed　or　cursed；　whether　She　was　impious　or　devout；　She　always　contrived　to　terrify　her　Auditors　out　of　their　senses。　　The　Castle　became　scarcely　habitable；　and　its　Lord　was　so　frightened　by　these　midnight　Revels；　that　one　fine　morning　He　was　found　dead　in　his　bed。　　This　success　seemed　to　please　the　Nun　mightily；　for　now　She　made　more　noise　than　ever。　　But　the　next　Baron　proved　too　cunning　for　her。　　He　made　his　appearance　with　a　celebrated　Exorciser　in　his　hand；　who　feared　not　to　shut　himself　up　for　a　night　in　the　haunted　Chamber。　　There　it　seems　that　He　had　an　hard　battle　with　the　Ghost；　before　She　would　promise　to　be　quiet。　　She　was　obstinate；　but　He　was　more　so；　and　at　length　She　consented　to　let　the　Inhabitants　of　the　Castle　take　a　good　night's　rest。　　For　some　time　after　no　news　was　heard　of　her。　　But　at　the　end　of　five　years　the　Exorciser　died；　and　then　the　Nun　ventured　to　peep　abroad　again。　　However；　She　was　now　grown　much　more　tractable　and　well…behaved。　　She　walked　about　in　silence；　and　never　made　her　appearance　above　once　in　five　years。　　This　custom；　if　you　will　believe　the　Baron；　She　still　continues。　　He　is　fully　persuaded；　that　on　the　fifth　of　May　of　every　fifth　year；　as　soon　as　the　Clock　strikes　One；　the　Door　of　the　haunted　Chamber　opens。　　（Observe；　that　this　room　has　been　shut　up　for　near　a　Century。）　　Then　out　walks　the　Ghostly　Nun　with　her　Lamp　and　dagger：　　She　descends　the　staircase　of　the　Eastern　Tower；　and　crosses　the　great　Hall！　　On　that　night　the　Porter　always　leaves　the　Gates　of　the　Castle　open；　out　of　respect　to　the　Apparition：　　Not　that　this　is　thought　by　any　means　necessary；　since　She　could　easily　whip　through　the　Keyhole　if　She　chose　it；　But　merely　out　of　politeness；　and　to　prevent　her　from　making　her　exit　in　a　way　so　derogatory　to　the　dignity　of　her　Ghost…ship。'

'And　whither　does　She　go　on　quitting　the　Castle？'

'To　Heaven；　I　hope；　But　if　She　does；　the　place　certainly　is　not　to　her　taste；　for　She　always　returns　after　an　hour's　absence。　　The　Lady　then　retires　to　her　chamber；　and　is　quiet　for　another　five　years。'

'And　you　believe　this；　Agnes？'

'How　can　you　ask　such　a　question？　　No；　no；　Alphonso！　I　have　too　much　reason　to　lament　superstition's　influence　to　be　its　Victim　myself。　　However　I　must　not　avow　my　incredulity　to　the　Baroness：　　She　entertains　not　a　doubt　of　the　truth　of　this　History。　　As　to　Dame　Cunegonda；　my　Governess；　She　protests　that　fifteen　years　ago　She　saw　the　Spectre　with　her　own　eyes。　　She　related　to　me　one　evening　how　She　and　several　other　Domestics　had　been　terrified　while　at　Supper　by　the　appearance　of　the　Bleeding　Nun；　as　the　Ghost　is　called　in　the　Castle：　　'Tis　from　her　account　that　I　drew　this　sketch；　and　you　may　be　certain　that　Cunegonda　was　not　omitted。　　There　She　is！　　I　shall　never　forget　what　a　passion　She　was　in；　and　how　ugly　She　looked　while　She　scolded　me　for　having　made　her　picture　so　like　herself！'

Here　She　pointed　to　a　burlesque　figure　of　an　old　Woman　in　an　attitude　of　terror。

In　spite　of　the　melancholy　which　oppressed　me；　I　could　not　help　smiling　at　the　playful　imagination　of　Agnes：　　She　had　perfectly　preserved　Dame　Cunegonda's　resemblance；　but　had　so　much　exaggerated　every　fault；　and　rendered　every　feature　so　irresistibly　laughable；　that　I　could　easily　conceive　the　Duenna's　anger。

'The　figure　is　admirable；　my　dear　Agnes！　I　knew　not　that　you　possessed　such　talents　for　the　ridiculous。'

'Stay　a　moment；'　She　replied；　'I　will　show　you　a　figure　still　more　ridiculous　than　Dame　Cunegonda's。　　If　it　pleases　you；　you　may　dispose　of　it　as　seems　best　to　yourself。'

She　rose；　and　went　to　a　Cabinet　at　some　little　distance。　Unlocking　a　drawer；　She　took　out　a　small　case；　which　She　opened；　and　presented　to　me。

'Do　you　know　the　resemblance？'　said　She　smiling。

It　was　her　own。

Transported　at　the　gift；　I　pressed　the　portrait　to　my　lips　with　passion：