the monk(僧侣)-第86章

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no　better　success　than　the　former。　　On　the　contrary；　taking
advantage　of　her　situation；　the　Ravisher　threw　himself　by　her
side：　　He　clasped　her　to　his　bosom　almost　lifeless　with　terror；
and　faint　with　struggling。　　He　stifled　her　cries　with　kisses；
treated　her　with　the　rudeness　of　an　unprincipled　Barbarian；
proceeded　from　freedom　to　freedom；　and　in　the　violence　of　his
lustful　delirium；　wounded　and　bruised　her　tender　limbs。　　Heedless
of　her　tears；　cries　and　entreaties；　He　gradually　made　himself
Master　of　her　person；　and　desisted　not　from　his　prey；　till　He　had
accomplished　his　crime　and　the　dishonour　of　Antonia。

Scarcely　had　He　succeeded　in　his　design　than　He　shuddered　at
himself　and　the　means　by　which　it　was　effected。　　The　very　excess
of　his　former　eagerness　to　possess　Antonia　now　contributed　to
inspire　him　with　disgust；　and　a　secret　impulse　made　him　feel　how
base　and　unmanly　was　the　crime　which　He　had　just　committed。　　He
started　hastily　from　her　arms。　　She；　who　so　lately　had　been　the
object　of　his　adoration；　now　raised　no　other　sentiment　in　his
heart　than　aversion　and　rage。　　He　turned　away　from　her；　or　if　his
eyes　rested　upon　her　figure　involuntarily；　it　was　only　to　dart
upon　her　looks　of　hate。　　The　Unfortunate　had　fainted　ere　the
completion　of　her　disgrace：　She　only　recovered　life　to　be
sensible　of　her　misfortune。　She　remained　stretched　upon　the　earth
in　silent　despair：　　The　tears　chased　each　other　slowly　down　her
cheeks；　and　her　bosom　heaved　with　frequent　sobs。　　Oppressed　with
grief；　She　continued　for　some　time　in　this　state　of　torpidity。　
At　length　She　rose　with　difficulty；　and　dragging　her　feeble　steps
towards　the　door；　prepared　to　quit　the　dungeon。

The　sound　of　her　footsteps　rouzed　the　Monk　from　his　sullen
apathy。　　Starting　from　the　Tomb　against　which　He　reclined；　while
his　eyes　wandered　over　the　images　of　corruption　contained　in　it；
He　pursued　the　Victim　of　his　brutality；　and　soon　overtook　her。　
He　seized　her　by　the　arm；　and　violently　forced　her　back　into　the
dungeon。

'Whither　go　you？'　He　cried　in　a　stern　voice；　'Return　this
instant！'

Antonia　trembled　at　the　fury　of　his　countenance。

'What；　would　you　more？'　She　said　with　timidity：　'Is　not　my　ruin
compleated？　　Am　I　not　undone；　undone　for　ever？　　Is　not　your
cruelty　contented；　or　have　I　yet　more　to　suffer？　　Let　me　depart。　
Let　me　return　to　my　home；　and　weep　unrestrained　my　shame　and　my
affliction！'　

'Return　to　your　home？'　repeated　the　Monk；　with　bitter　and
contemptuous　mockery；　Then　suddenly　his　eyes　flaming　with
passion；　'What？　That　you　may　denounce　me　to　the　world？　　That
you　may　proclaim　me　an　Hypocrite；　a　Ravisher；　a　Betrayer；　a
Monster　of　cruelty；　lust；　and　ingratitude？　　No；　no；　no！　　I　know
well　the　whole　weight　of　my　offences；　Well　that　your　complaints
would　be　too　just；　and　my　crimes　too　notorious！　　You　shall　not
from　hence　to　tell　Madrid　that　I　am　a　Villain；　that　my　conscience
is　loaded　with　sins　which　make　me　despair　of　Heaven's　pardon。　
Wretched　Girl；　you　must　stay　here　with　me！　　Here　amidst　these
lonely　Tombs；　these　images　of　Death；　these　rotting　loathsome
corrupted　bodies！　　Here　shall　you　stay；　and　witness　my
sufferings；　witness　what　it　is　to　die　in　the　horrors　of
despondency；　and　breathe　the　last　groan　in　blasphemy　and　curses！　
And　who　am　I　to　thank　for　this？　　What　seduced　me　into　crimes；
whose　bare　remembrance　makes　me　shudder？　　Fatal　Witch！　was　it　not
thy　beauty？　　Have　you　not　plunged　my　soul　into　infamy？　　Have　you
not　made　me　a　perjured　Hypocrite；　a　Ravisher；　an　Assassin！　　Nay；
at　this　moment；　does　not　that　angel　look　bid　me　despair　of　God's
forgiveness？　　Oh！　when　I　stand　before　his　judgment…throne；　that
look　will　suffice　to　damn　me！　　You　will　tell　my　Judge　that　you
were　happy；　till　I　saw　you；　that　you　were　innocent；　till　I
polluted　you！　　You　will　come　with　those　tearful　eyes；　those
cheeks　pale　and　ghastly；　those　hands　lifted　in　supplication；　as
when　you　sought　from　me　that　mercy　which　I　gave　not！　　Then　will
my　perdition　be　certain！　　Then　will　come　your　Mother's　Ghost；　and
hurl　me　down　into　the　dwellings　of　Fiends；　and　flames；　and
Furies；　and　everlasting　torments！　　And　'tis　you；　who　will　accuse
me！　　'Tis　you；　who　will　cause　my　eternal　anguish！　　You；　wretched
Girl！　　You！　　You！'

As　He　thundered　out　these　words；　He　violently　grasped　Antonia's
arm；　and　spurned　the　earth　with　delirious　fury。

Supposing　his　brain　to　be　turned；　Antonia　sank　in　terror　upon　her
knees：　　She　lifted　up　her　hands；　and　her　voice　almost　died　away；
ere　She　could　give　it　utterance。

'Spare　me！　　Spare　me！'　She　murmured　with　difficulty。

'Silence！'　cried　the　Friar　madly；　and　dashed　her　upon　the
ground

He　quitted　her；　and　paced　the　dungeon　with　a　wild　and　disordered
air。　　His　eyes　rolled　fearfully：　　Antonia　trembled　whenever　She
met　their　gaze。　　He　seemed　to　meditate　on　something　horrible；　and
She　gave　up　all　hopes　of　escaping　from　the　Sepulchre　with　life。　
Yet　in　harbouring　this　idea；　She　did　him　injustice。　　Amidst　the
horror　and　disgust　to　which　his　soul　was　a　prey；　pity　for　his
Victim　still　held　a　place　in　it。　　The　storm　of　passion　once　over；
He　would　have　given　worlds　had　He　possest　them；　to　have　restored
to　her　that　innocence　of　which　his　unbridled　lust　had　deprived
her。　　Of　the　desires　which　had　urged　him　to　the　crime；　no　trace
was　left　in　his　bosom：　　The　wealth　of　India　would　not　have
tempted　him　to　a　second　enjoyment　of　her　person。　　His　nature
seemed　to　revolt　at　the　very　idea；　and　fain　would　He　have　wiped
from　his　memory　the　scene　which　had　just　past。　　As　his　gloomy
rage　abated；　in　proportion　did　his　compassion　augment　for
Antonia。　　He　stopped；　and　would　have　spoken　to　her　words　of
comfort；　But　He　knew　not　from　whence　to　draw　them；　and　remained
gazing　upon　her　with　mournful　wildness。　　Her　situation　seemed　so
hopeless；　so　woebegone；　as　to　baffle　mortal　power　to　relieve
her。　　What　could　He　do　for　her？　　Her　peace　of　mind　was　lost；　her
honour　irreparably　ruined。　　She　was　cut　off　for　ever　from
society；　nor　dared　He　give　her　back　to　it。　　He　was　conscious
that　were　She　to　appear　in　the　world　again；　his　guilt　would　be
revealed；　and　his　punishment　inevitable。　　To　one　so　laden　with
crimes；　Death　came　armed　with　double　terrors。　　Yet　should　He
restore　Antonia　to　light；　and　stand　the　chance　of　her　betraying
him；　how　miserable　a　prospect　would　present　itself　before　her。　
She　could　never　hope　to　be　creditably　established；　She　would　be
marked　with　infamy；　and　condemned　to　sorrow　and　solitude　for　the
remainder　of　her　existence。　　What　was　the　alternative？　　A
resolution　far　more　terrible　for　Antonia；　but　which　at　least
would　insure　the　Abbot's　safety。　　He　determined　to　leave　the
world　persuaded　of　her　death；　and　to　retain　her　a　captive　in　this
gloomy　prison：　　There　He　proposed　to　visit　her　every　night；　to
bring　her　food；　to　profess　his　penitence；　and　mingle　his　tears
with　hers。　　The　Monk　felt　that　this　resolution　was　unjust　and
cruel；　but　it　was　his　only　means　to　prevent　Antonia　from
publishing　his　guilt　and　her　own　infamy。　　Should　He　release　her；
He　could　not　depend　upon　her　silence：　　His　offence　was　too
flagrant　to　permit　his　hoping　for　her　forgiveness。　　Besides；　her
reappearing　would　excite　universal　curiosity；　and　the　violence
of　her　affliction　would　prevent　her　from　concealing　its　cause。　
He　determined　therefore；　that　Antonia　should　remain　a　Prisoner　in
the　dungeon。

He　approached　her　with　confusion　painted　on　his　countenance。　　He
raised　her　from　the　ground。　　Her　hand　trembled；　as　He　took　it；
and　He　dropped　it　again　as　if　He　had　touched　a　Serpent。　　Nature
seemed　to　recoil　at　the　touch。　　He　felt　himself　at　once　repulsed
from　and　attracted　towards　her；　yet　could　account　for　neither
sentiment。　　There　was　something　in　her　look　which　penetrated　him
with　horror；　and　though　his　understanding　was　still　ignorant　of
it；　Conscience　pointed　out　to　him　the　whole　extent　of　his　crime。　
In　hurried　accents　yet　the　gentlest　He　could　find；　while　his　eye
was　averted；　and　his　voice　scarcely　audible；　He　strove　to　console
her　under　a　misfortune　which　now　could　not　be　avoided。　　He
declared　himself　sincerely　penitent；　and　that　He　would　gladly
shed　a　drop　of　his　blood；　for　every　tear