the monk(僧侣)-第9章

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three　Months　intended　to　make　his　profession。　　A　sort　of　mystery
enveloped　this　Youth　which　rendered　him　at　once　an　object　of
interest　and　curiosity。　　His　hatred　of　society；　his　profound
melancholy；　his　rigid　observation　of　the　duties　of　his　order；　and
his　voluntary　seclusion　from　the　world　at　his　age　so　unusual；
attracted　the　notice　of　the　whole　fraternity。　　He　seemed　fearful
of　being　recognised；　and　no　one　had　ever　seen　his　face。　His　head
was　continually　muffled　up　in　his　Cowl；　Yet　such　of　his　features
as　accident　discovered；　appeared　the　most　beautiful　and　noble。　
Rosario　was　the　only　name　by　which　He　was　known　in　the　Monastery。

No　one　knew　from　whence　He　came；　and　when　questioned　in　the
subject　He　preserved　a　profound　silence。　　A　Stranger；　whose　rich
habit　and　magnificent　equipage　declared　him　to　be　of
distinguished　rank；　had　engaged　the　Monks　to　receive　a　Novice；
and　had　deposited　the　necessary　sums。　　The　next　day　He　returned
with　Rosario；　and　from　that　time　no　more　had　been　heard　of　him。

The　Youth　had　carefully　avoided　the　company　of　the　Monks：　　He
answered　their　civilities　with　sweetness；　but　reserve；　and
evidently　showed　that　his　inclination　led　him　to　solitude。　　To
this　general　rule　the　Superior　was　the　only　exception。　　To　him　He
looked　up　with　a　respect　approaching　idolatry：　　He　sought　his
company　with　the　most　attentive　assiduity；　and　eagerly　seized
every　means　to　ingratiate　himself　in　his　favour。　　In　the　Abbot's
society　his　Heart　seemed　to　be　at　ease；　and　an　air　of　gaiety
pervaded　his　whole　manners　and　discourse。　　Ambrosio　on　his　side
did　not　feel　less　attracted　towards　the　Youth；　With　him　alone　did
He　lay　aside　his　habitual　severity。　　When　He　spoke　to　him；　He
insensibly　assumed　a　tone　milder　than　was　usual　to　him；　and　no
voice　sounded　so　sweet　to　him　as　did　Rosario's。　　He　repayed　the
Youth's　attentions　by　instructing　him　in　various　sciences；　The
Novice　received　his　lessons　with　docility；　Ambrosio　was　every　day
more　charmed　with　the　vivacity　of　his　Genius；　the　simplicity　of
his　manners；　and　the　rectitude　of　his　heart：　　In　short　He　loved
him　with　all　the　affection　of　a　Father。　　He　could　not　help
sometimes　indulging　a　desire　secretly　to　see　the　face　of　his
Pupil；　But　his　rule　of　self…denial　extended　even　to　curiosity；
and　prevented　him　from　communicating　his　wishes　to　the　Youth。

'Pardon　my　intrusion；　Father；'　said　Rosario；　while　He　placed　his
basket　upon　the　Table；　'I　come　to　you　a　Suppliant。　　Hearing　that
a　dear　Friend　is　dangerously　ill；　I　entreat　your　prayers　for　his
recovery。　　If　supplications　can　prevail　upon　heaven　to　spare　him；
surely　yours　must　be　efficacious。'

'Whatever　depends　upon　me；　my　Son；　you　know　that　you　may　command。

What　is　your　Friend's　name？'

'Vincentio　della　Ronda。'

'　'Tis　sufficient。　　I　will　not　forget　him　in　my　prayers；　and　may
our　thrice…blessed　St。　Francis　deign　to　listen　to　my
intercession！What　have　you　in　your　basket；　Rosario？'

'A　few　of　those　flowers；　reverend　Father；　which　I　have　observed
to　be　most　acceptable　to　you。　　Will　you　permit　my　arranging　them
in　your　chamber？'

'Your　attentions　charm　me；　my　Son。'

While　Rosario　dispersed　the　contents　of　his　Basket　in　small
Vases　placed　for　that　purpose　in　various　parts　of　the　room；　the
Abbot　thus　continued　the　conversation。

'I　saw　you　not　in　the　Church　this　evening；　Rosario。'

'Yet　I　was　present；　Father。　　I　am　too　grateful　for　your
protection　to　lose　an　opportunity　of　witnessing　your　Triumph。'

'Alas！　Rosario；　I　have　but　little　cause　to　triumph：　　The　Saint
spoke　by　my　mouth；　To　him　belongs　all　the　merit。　It　seems　then
you　were　contented　with　my　discourse？'

'Contented；　say　you？　　Oh！　you　surpassed　yourself！　　Never　did　I
hear　such　eloquence　。　。　。　　save　once！'

Here　the　Novice　heaved　an　involuntary　sigh。

'When　was　that　once？'　demanded　the　Abbot。

'When　you　preached　upon　the　sudden　indisposition　of　our　late
Superior。'

'I　remember　it：　　That　is　more　than　two　years　ago。　　And　were　you
present？　　I　knew　you　not　at　that　time；　Rosario。'

'　'Tis　true；　Father；　and　would　to　God！　I　had　expired；　ere　I
beheld　that　day！　　What　sufferings；　what　sorrows　should　I　have
escaped！'

'Sufferings　at　your　age；　Rosario？'

'Aye；　Father；　Sufferings；　which　if　known　to　you；　would　equally
raise　your　anger　and　compassion！　　Sufferings；　which　form　at　once
the　torment　and　pleasure　of　my　existence！　　Yet　in　this　retreat　my
bosom　would　feel　tranquil；　were　it　not　for　the　tortures　of
apprehension。　　Oh　God！　　Oh　God！　how　cruel　is　a　life　of
fear！Father！　I　have　given　up　all；　I　have　abandoned　the　world
and　its　delights　for　ever：　　Nothing　now　remains；　Nothing　now　has
charms　for　me；　but　your　friendship；　but　your　affection。　　If　I
lose　that；　Father！　　Oh！　if　I　lose　that；　tremble　at　the　effects　of
my　despair！'

'You　apprehend　the　loss　of　my　friendship？　　How　has　my　conduct
justified　this　fear？　　Know　me　better；　Rosario；　and　think　me
worthy　of　your　confidence。　　What　are　your　sufferings？　　Reveal
them　to　me；　and　believe　that　if　'tis　in　my　power　to　relieve　them。
。　。　。'

'Ah！　'tis　in　no　one's　power　but　yours。　　Yet　I　must　not　let　you
know　them。　　You　would　hate　me　for　my　avowal！　　You　would　drive　me
from　your　presence　with　scorn　and　ignominy！'

'My　Son；　I　conjure　you！　　I　entreat　you！'

'For　pity's　sake；　enquire　no　further！　　I　must　not　。　。　。　　I　dare
not　。　。　。　　Hark！　　The　Bell　rings　for　Vespers！　　Father；　your
benediction；　and　I　leave　you！'

As　He　said　this；　He　threw　himself　upon　his　knees　and　received
the　blessing　which　He　demanded。　　Then　pressing　the　Abbot's　hand
to　his　lips；　He　started　from　the　ground　and　hastily　quitted　the
apartment。　　Soon　after　Ambrosio　descended　to　Vespers　（which　were
celebrated　in　a　small　chapel　belonging　to　the　Abbey）；　filled　with
surprise　at　the　singularity　of　the　Youth's　behaviour。

Vespers　being　over；　the　Monks　retired　to　their　respective　Cells。　
The　Abbot　alone　remained　in　the　Chapel　to　receive　the　Nuns　of　St。
Clare。　　He　had　not　been　long　seated　in　the　confessional　chair　
before　the　Prioress　made　her　appearance。　　Each　of　the　Nuns　was
heard　in　her　turn；　while　the　Others　waited　with　the　Domina　in　the
adjoining　Vestry。　　Ambrosio　listened　to　the　confessions　with
attention；　made　many　exhortations；　enjoined　penance　proportioned
to　each　offence；　and　for　some　time　every　thing　went　on　as　usual：
till　at　last　one　of　the　Nuns；　conspicuous　from　the　nobleness　of
her　air　and　elegance　of　her　figure；　carelessly　permitted　a　letter
to　fall　from　her　bosom。　　She　was　retiring；　unconscious　of　her
loss。　　Ambrosio　supposed　it　to　have　been　written　by　some　one　of
her　Relations；　and　picked　it　up　intending　to　restore　it　to　her。

'Stay；　Daughter；'　said　He；　'You　have　let　fall。　。　。　。'

At　this　moment；　the　paper　being　already　open；　his　eye
involuntarily　read　the　first　words。　　He　started　back　with
surprise！　　The　Nun　had　turned　round　on　hearing　his　voice：　　She
perceived　her　letter　in　his　hand；　and　uttering　a　shriek　of
terror；　flew　hastily　to　regain　it。

'Hold！'　said　the　Friar　in　a　tone　of　severity；　'Daughter；　I　must
read　this　letter。'

'Then　I　am　lost！'　　She　exclaimed　clasping　her　hands　together
wildly。

All　colour　instantly　faded　from　her　face；　she　trembled　with
agitation；　and　was　obliged　to　fold　her　arms　round　a　Pillar　of　the
Chapel　to　save　herself　from　sinking　upon　the　floor。　　In　the
meanwhile　the　Abbot　read　the　following　lines。

'All　is　ready　for　your　escape；　my　dearest　Agnes。　　At　twelve
tomorrow　night　I　shall　expect　to　find　you　at　the　Garden　door：　　I
have　obtained　the　Key；　and　a　few　hours　will　suffice　to　place　you
in　a　secure　asylum。　　Let　no　mistaken　scruples　induce　you　to
reject　the　certain　means　of　preserving　yourself　and　the　innocent
Creature　whom　you　nourish　in　your　bosom。　　Remember　that　you　had
promised　to　be　mine；　long　ere　you　engaged　yourself　to　the　church；
that　your　situation　will　soon　be　evident　to　the　prying　eyes　of
your　Companions；　and　that　flight　is　the　only　means　of　avoiding
the　effects　of　their　malevolent　resentment。　　Farewell；　my　Agnes！
my　dear　and　destined　Wife！　　Fail　not　to　be　at　the　Garden　door　at
twelve！'

As　soon　as　He　had　finished；　Ambrosio　bent　an　eye　stern　and　angry
upon　the　imprudent　Nun。

'This　letter　must　to　th