the monk(僧侣)-第50章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


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　He　forgot　that　having　pronounced　those　vows；
Incontinence；　in　Laymen　the　most　venial　of　errors；　became　in　his
person　the　most　heinous　of　crimes。

Once　decided　upon　his　future　conduct；　his　mind　became　more　easy。　
He　threw　himself　upon　his　bed；　and　strove　by　sleeping　to　recruit
his　strength　exhausted　by　his　nocturnal　excesses。　　He　awoke
refreshed；　and　eager　for　a　repetition　of　his　pleasures。　　Obedient
to　Matilda's　order；　He　visited　not　her　Cell　during　the　day。　
Father　Pablos　mentioned　in　the　Refectory　that　Rosario　had　at
length　been　prevailed　upon　to　follow　his　prescription；　But　that
the　medicine　had　not　produced　the　slightest　effect；　and　that　He
believed　no　mortal　skill　could　rescue　him　from　the　Grave。　　With
this　opinion　the　Abbot　agreed；　and　affected　to　lament　the
untimely　fate　of　a　Youth；　whose　talents　had　appeared　so
promising。

The　night　arrived。　　Ambrosio　had　taken　care　to　procure　from　the
Porter　the　Key　of　the　low　door　opening　into　the　Cemetery。　
Furnished　with　this；　when　all　was　silent　in　the　Monastery；　He
quitted　his　Cell；　and　hastened　to　Matilda's。　　She　had　left　her
bed；　and　was　drest　before　his　arrival。

'I　have　been　expecting　you　with　impatience；'　said　She；　'My　life
depends　upon　these　moments。　　Have　you　the　Key？'

'I　have。'

'Away　then　to　the　garden。　　We　have　no　time　to　lose。　Follow　me！'

She　took　a　small　covered　Basket　from　the　Table。　Bearing　this　in
one　hand；　and　the　Lamp；　which　was　flaming　upon　the　Hearth；　in　the
other；　She　hastened　from　the　Cell。　　Ambrosio　followed　her。　　Both
maintained　a　profound　silence。　　She　moved　on　with　quick　but
cautious　steps；　passed　through　the　Cloisters；　and　reached　the
Western　side　of　the　Garden。　　Her　eyes　flashed　with　a　fire　and
wildness　which　impressed　the　Monk　at　once　with　awe　and　horror。　
A　determined　desperate　courage　reigned　upon　her　brow。　　She　gave
the　Lamp　to　Ambrosio；　Then　taking　from　him　the　Key；　She　unlocked
the　low　Door；　and　entered　the　Cemetery。　　It　was　a　vast　and
spacious　Square　planted　with　yew　trees：　　Half　of　it　belonged　to
the　Abbey；　The　other　half　was　the　property　of　the　Sisterhood　of
St。　Clare；　and　was　protected　by　a　roof　of　Stone。　　The　Division
was　marked　by　an　iron　railing；　the　wicket　of　which　was　generally
left　unlocked。

Thither　Matilda　bent　her　course。　　She　opened　the　wicket　and
sought　for　the　door　leading　to　the　subterraneous　Vaults；　where
reposed　the　mouldering　Bodies　of　the　Votaries　of　St。　Clare。　　The
night　was　perfectly　dark；　Neither　Moon　or　Stars　were　visible。　
Luckily　there　was　not　a　breath　of　Wind；　and　the　Friar　bore　his
Lamp　in　full　security：　　By　the　assistance　of　its　beams；　the　door
of　the　Sepulchre　was　soon　discovered。　　It　was　sunk　within　the
hollow　of　a　wall；　and　almost　concealed　by　thick　festoons　of　ivy
hanging　over　it。　　Three　steps　of　rough…hewn　Stone　conducted　to
it；　and　Matilda　was　on　the　point　of　descending　t