THE ORPHAN OF THE RHINE
PART 23
Chapter 5
Can such things be?
And overcome us like a summer's cloud.
Without our special wonder!
Blood will have blood;
Stones have been made to move, and trees to speak:
Augurs and understood relations have.
By magpies, and by choughs and rooks, brought forth
The secret man of blood.
--SHAKESPEARE
Anselmo's
mind not being harassed with such a variety of strange surmises as his
master's, he sunk into a quiet slumber, from which he did not awake till it was
light; when, having forgotten the reality of his situation in the visions of
his fancy, he could not forbear uttering an exclamation of astonishment; but
soon recollecting the past, he turned round to inquire of Enrico in what manner
Maschero was to be disposed of, who would probably soon become sensible to his
confinement, when he beheld with amazement that his master had quitted his
side. Starting instantly from the bed, he hastened into the gallery, where he
soon discovered him taking a general survey of the building; endeavouring by
these means to beguile the tedious moments that must elapse before Laurette
would again admit him into the interior of her prison.
As they
passed along one of the apartments, whose barred casements looked into the
court, they perceived a board to shake under their feet, which, on examination,
was found to be loose and unfixed.
'This is
surely a trap-door,' cried Anselmo, with evident astonishment, 'which leads
into some strange, and still more dreary, place. Let us explore it, Signor; who
knows but we may find some hidden treasure.'
Enrico
made no reply; but desirous of being convinced whether it was really a door,
and if so, to what part of the ruin it led, attempted to unclose it. He was not
long unsuccessful, and on heaving up the board, discovered that it opened upon a
flight of steps, which being steep, broken, and decayed, perfectly corresponded
with the rest. These they immediately descended, and soon found themselves in a
dismal old chamber, which contained, amongst a considerable quantity of lumber,
a large oak chest.
This, on
opening, they perceived to be empty; but the lid was no sooner closed, than it
occurred to Enrico, that, from its external appearance, it probably contained a
false bottom. Having communicated his thoughts to Anselmo, the chest was again
examined, and the suspicion ascertained not to have been groundless. The
artfully-contrived board was speedily removed, and our travellers beheld, to
their mutual astonishment, the plumed helmet of a warrior, a military habit,
with several other articles of dress, stained with blood; an unsheathed sword
rusted by time, and a cross of the order of St Julias. Enrico started with an
emotion of horror as he surveyed them, whilst Anselmo observed, with a
shuddering sensation, accompanied by an expressive shake of the head, that
there had been some foul play there.
'Gracious
Heaven!' exclaimed Enrico, recovering from the stupor of amazement into which
he had been plunged, 'What do these garments mean, and with whose blood are
they stained?'
Anselmo,
who had been examining them severally as his master spoke, took up a piece of
linen, which seemed to be connected with the rest of the apparel; this was
literally dyed in gore, and as he extended his arm to display it to Enrico, it
dropped into pieces with age.
'The unfortunate
being who owned these things' cried Anselmo, piteously, 'has long since been at
rest. Can you conjecture, Signor, whose they could have been?'
'Your
question is a strange one,' returned Enrico, 'since I cannot possibly ascertain
to whom the ruin belongs, much less can I form any idea of its present
possessor; and even could that be discovered, I should still be as far from the
point as to the murder committed in it.'
'But one
may form some kind of a notion about it, Signor?'
'Indeed!
then you have more penetration than I have, who am unable to form any judgment
upon the subject.'
'I do not
mean to insinuate that I have more penetration than you, Signor. Do not mistake
me; but it is reduced to a certainty that blood has been spilled-ah! and in this
very place; the garments are here to attest the truth of the assertion.'
'There is
sufficient testimony of that,' returned Enrico; 'but I thought you was
endeavouring to discover the authors of this assassination, and was applying to
me for assistance.'
'That was
not the case, Signor; you never will understand me without I speak directly to
the purpose. The whole of the affair then is this: If you think as I do, you
will from these evidences believe, that this old building belongs to some great
man, who keeps it as a kind of slaughter-house, that when any one offends him,
or stands in the way of his advancement, he may send him to an eternal sleep
without making any one the wiser.'
Enrico
appeared thoughtful, but made no reply; and Anselmo, having replaced the bloody
garments in the chest, disposing them in the same manner as before, followed
him up the steps. Scarcely had they reached the trap-door leading into the
chamber, before a loud knocking at the outer gate filled them with new
astonishment.
'Mercy
upon us!' cried Anselmo, 'the ghost is surely coming to revenge himself upon us
for disturbing his old clothes; for what human being would think of coming to
such a place as this? If it is man, I can soon do for him; for I have a weapon
here,' resumed he, taking the rusty dagger from his girdle, 'that will do his
business quickly--ah! and one too that, by the appearance of the blade, seems
to have been well employed; but, if it should be a spirit, Oh Sancta Maria!
Signor! what can we do with that?'
Enrico,
without waiting till Anselmo had concluded his harangue, walked towards the
window which opened into the court, and beheld, to his unspeakable surprise,
four armed men taking a survey of the edifice. At first he imagined them to
have been banditti, who infested the woods in the night, and were accustomed to
inhabit a part of the building during the day; but the appearance of him who
seemed to direct the motions of the rest, indicated nothing of the kind.
The alarm
was now repeated, which being aided by the yells of Maschero, who had just
discovered his confinement, had altogether a dreadful effect. Afraid that
Laurette, from being ignorant of the cause, might be disturbed and affrighted,
Enrico ran hastily to her room. She was just awake, and seemed better. The
knocking still continuing, she inquired the cause; and on his assuring her that
nothing was the matter, and that he would speedily return to her, she consented
to be left.
Not
knowing whether the intentions of the strangers were hostile or otherwise,
Anselmo took the dagger from beneath his cloak, whilst Enrico, clapping his
hand upon the hilt of his sword, in an attitude of defence, proceeded towards
the door.
The
person, who appeared to be the leader, advanced first with a stately and
dignified air. He seemed to have passed the autumn of life, for locks of grey
shaded his forehead, and his face was marked with the lines of age. Struck with
the benignity of his aspect, Enrico raised his hand involuntarily from his
sword, and courteously bowing, offered him admittance. The stranger, after
surveying him a moment in silence, turned to the men, and said, 'There must be
some mistake; this is not the person we were taught to expect.'
'May I be
allowed to understand the motive of this visit?' cried Enrico, addressing
himself to him who was evidently the superior, 'possibly I may be enabled to
solve this difficulty.'
The
stranger gave an assenting nod; and then desiring the men, who had accompanied
him, to await his orders in the wood, followed his conductor into the hall; not
without frequently turning an inquiring eye towards the place from whence the
cries of Maschero proceeded.
'I will
unravel this mysterious affair immediately,' resumed Enrico, finding his new
acquaintance was much interested in these expressions of distress, 'when we
have reached a place convenient for the purpose.' His guest again bowed, and
continued to follow him.
The only
seats they were able to find, were two large stones which had fallen from the
ceiling at the farther end of the hall, but by these they were tolerably well
accommodated; and the stranger having again fixed his eyes upon the intelligent
countenance of our hero with new astonishment, requested to be made acquainted
with his name; and since it was impossible that neglected solitude could be his
residence, by what strange combination of circumstances he had been directed
thither.
Enrico did
not keep him in suspense. He related his name, at least the only one he had
ever known, that of Chamont, and informed him briefly of the most interesting
events of his past life, as far as was connected with the subject upon which
they had touched; including the mysterious manner in which his mother had
disappeared, Laurette's residence with the Marchese, her precipitate retreat
from the castle, though in what manner had not been investigated, and how
strangely, how miraculously she had been discovered in the prison of the ruin;
which little narrative he concluded, by declaring the means that had been
employed to intoxicate the assassin, who, he had every reason to believe,
meditated her death, though he had at present taken no desperate method to
accomplish it.
The
stranger could scarcely wait for the conclusion; but throwing his arms round
the neck of Enrico, he exclaimed, in an agony of joy, 'Are you then the son of
Madame Chamont, the noblest, the most amiable of women? And shall I, by
presenting you to her after this long, this hopeless absence, be enabled to
discharge some part of that vast debt of gratitude which I owe her. Behold in
me the Conte della Croisse, the once wretched La Roque, who, but for her
interference, must have perished in a dungeon.'
Enrico's
amazement increased; he had never heard the name of Della Croisse uttered by
any one except Father Benedicta; and the little he had been able to gain from
what that Monk had inadvertently dropped, was so wrapped in obscurity, that no
opinion could be formed upon the subject. But as the Conte's exclamation
indicated that he was not only formerly known to his mother, but was actually
acquainted with her present place of residence, his raptures could not be
repressed; and falling at the feet of his venerable guest, he besought him with
tears to inform him immediately where his revered parent was removed, and
whether he could not instantly be with her. Della Croisse's heart melted within
him when he beheld these effusions of affection; and so much was the
sensibility of his nature excited, that it was some time before he could
command his feelings sufficiently to comply with the request. But finding his
auditor could no longer endure a state of suspense and anxiety, he informed him
that Madame Chamont was in a place of security not many leagues distant from
the wood; and that he might soon have an opportunity of being introduced to
her, and of bestowing upon this excellent parent that unexpected and exalted
happiness which his presence would inevitably confer.
'Having
been recently apprized,' continued the Conte, 'of the alarming situation of the
lovely young captive, with whose fate I find you are already acquainted, I
brought a carriage to convey her from this place to the convent in which Madame
Chamont has found a secure asylum.'
'My mother
is then safe in a convent,' repeated Enrico, rapturously.
'She is,'
returned the Conte; 'and not having remained resident there long enough to have
commenced Nun, according to the established rules of the Institution, will have
no objection to remove from it.
'I have
many circumstances to unfold,' continued Della Croisse, 'in which you are
materially interested, and must therefore request you will allow me a patient
hearing.'
Enrico
bowed assent; but fearing lest Laurette should be uneasy at his absence,
excused himself for a moment before the Conte began his recital, and hastened to
her apartment. She had been expecting him for some time with a degree of
painful anxiety; but his presence soon relieved her from uneasy apprehension,
and after having taken, at his desire, a small portion more of the wine and
cake, which had been left on the preceding night, he again quitted the room,
with an assurance that he would return to her as soon as suitable arrangements
were made relative to their intended departure.
The cries
of Maschero still continuing to resound through the edifice, producing a
melancholy and dreadful effect, Enrico found it necessary to silence him, by
asserting that, since his criminal intentions were discovered, his only hopes
of obtaining that mercy he had so little reason to expect, rested upon the
compassion of his judges, and the purity of his future conduct.
This had
the desired effect, and Enrico, being anxious to hear the important incidents
which were shortly to be unfolded by the Conte della Croisse, again seated
himself upon the stone by his side, and besought him to proceed.
'As it is
necessary,' replied the venerable guest, 'that we should remove from this place
as speedily as possible, I shall relate all briefly. You are, doubtless,
informed that your birth is supposed by all, even by your mother, who is, notwithstanding,
Virtue herself, to have been illegitimate.' Enrico shuddered, and looked
surprised.
'You are,
I say,' added the Conte, 'universally considered as the illegal offspring of
the Marchese de Montferrat.'
'Impossible!'
returned Enrico impetuously. 'Who dares to asperse the character of my mother?'
'None,
none,' replied the Conte, 'can cast a shade upon her spotless reputation: I
would myself defend her with my life from the shafts of calumny and malice;
grant me but patience, and you shall hear the whole. The Marchese de Montferrat
is your father; you are his lawful child, and consequently the next heir to his
title and possessions.
'Great
Heaven, is it possible!' cried Enrico, lifting up hands and eyes in
astonishment; 'and is this mystery but just unravelled?'
'The death
of a wretch,' returned the Conte, 'who has been long initiated in all the arts
of cunning, and who has long secretly sought my destruction, could only have
unravelled it. The monster to whom I allude, is the Marchese's steward; you are
assuredly acquainted with his character?'
'Is Paoli
then dead?' interrupted Enrico.
'The
same,' replied Della Croisse. 'That death, he so long meditated against me, he
received at my hands: I met with him by accident, or rather by the direction of
an interposing Providence; for to attribute such events to blind chance is
impious. He attacked me; I was fortunately armed, and being aware of his
infamous design, before he could disengage the stiletto from his cloak, plunged
mine into his heart. He groaned, and fell; but his breathing convinced me he
was still alive. Little as he merited compassion, I found my breast was not
steeled against its influence; and ordering my servants, who were not far
behind, to convey the assassin to an inn, I followed him, and sent for
assistance. The wound was pronounced mortal; but the effect was not
instantaneous, as it allowed time for the confession of his crimes. He informed
me that Madame Chamont was placed in a convent, whither she was to have remained
for life; in which seclusion more than ordinary restrictions were exercised
over her. That, by the express orders of the Marchese, she was not permitted to
write from the cloister; and the more effectually to prevent the circulation of
letters between her and her son, she was taught to believe that he had been
killed in an engagement, and that Laurette, her adopted daughter, was already
united to a young Nobleman, selected for her by her guardian.
'He then
informed me,' resumed the Conte, 'that this fair young creaturewas the daughter
of the Conte Della Caro, whose father was murdered in a wood by a wretch hired
for the purpose by order of the Marchese de Montferrat, who, if he died
childless, was the next heir to his estates; but as the Contessa brought forth
an infant soon afterwards, it was necessary that this also should be removed.
Some qualms of conscience seizing upon the Marchese at this time, prevented him
from sacrificing the child; but as to secrete it was indispensably requisite,
he found means of doing this so efficaciously, that no one suspected his
design, every body supposing that the infant expired with its mother, who lived
only to give it birth. Some peculiar circumstances had, he added, induced the
Marchese to believe the mysteries respecting her origin had been unfolded to
Laurette; but who the person was who had obtained and conveyed this
intelligence could not be ascertained, as no one, he had imagined, had gained
any certain information upon the subject. This, together with her beauty and
inimitable accomplishments, instigated him to offer her his hand, as a means of
securing the secret to themselves; but, contrary to his expectation, this was
resolutely refused, and finding from another conversation with her, and the
discovery of a picture, bearing the resemblance of her mother, the Contessa
della Caro, that she had been previously made acquainted with the secret of her
birth, he had at last determined upon her death.
'He then
declared to me,' continued the Conte, 'whither she was conveyed; at the same
time giving me so minute a description of the assassin employed, as to render a
mistake impossible. Not expecting, therefore, to meet any other being than the
forlorn and guilty wretch I was in search of, you may easily conceive my astonishment
when I beheld you, apparently an inhabitant of the ruin, at the time of my
arrival.'--Here the Conte remained silent, and Enrico, after acknowledging his
gratitude for the active part he had taken, and expressing his surprise at the
interesting events that had been recounted, demanded in what convent Madame
Chamont was now resident, and how the legality of her marriage with the
Marchese de Montferrat was to be proved, since the person, by whom the
confession had been made, was removed by death.
'The
convent in which your mother is placed is not far from this place,' returned
the Conte; 'she is in a society of reformed Benedictine Nuns, of the
congregation of Mount Calvary, and has probably before this time entered into
her noviciate state. As to the priest who officiated at the marriage, being
already acquainted with his name and place of abode, there will be no
difficulty in securing him as an evidence, who will bring undeniable proofs of
the truth of the assertion.
'As to the
murder committed on the body of the Conte della Caro,' resumed the Conte, 'it
must, if possible, be consigned to oblivion, the offender being not only the
husband of Madame Chamont, but your father; and as the fair orphan may easily
assert the justice of her claim, without making so dreadful a disclosure,
through the evidence of the woman who acted in the capacity of nurse, the wife
of Paoli, whose testimony will be sufficient to vindicate the proceeding, and
who will be ready to appear in case of necessity.'
Enrico
shuddered at the idea of the Marchese de Montferrat, who, he was now convinced
was his father, being brought to justice, and inquired eagerly if it could not
be prevented.
'Easily,'
replied Della Croisse, 'if the offender will criminate himself in a private
confession, and restore Laurette to her rights, by bestowing her upon you, and
by investing you in his possessions, at least the principal part of his
property, on your nuptials, and in the rest on his decease. But from what I was
enabled to gather from the last words of Pauli,' continued the Conte, 'the
Marchese does not consider your mother as his lawful wife; the steward having
expressly received orders from him to procure a person under the assumed habit
of an ecclesiastic to solemnize the marriage, instead of which, from some
secret motive, he applied to a secular priest, probably from this
consideration, that should the Marchese be induced to deny him pecuniary
assistance, he might, by disclosing the affair to him after his union with the
lady whom he afterwards married, procure large sums by keeping the important
secret. But this never happening in the course of his stewardship, the
Marchese, he confessed, was yet ignorant of the truth; but the priest being yet
alive, to whom I might instantly apply, the fact would easily be proved. The
unfortunate wretch also acknowledged,' resumed the Conte, 'that he had artfully
instigated the Marchese to the murder of Laurette for some time before the
measure was adopted, fearing lest he should succeed in gaining her affections,
and by another connexion involve him in new difficulties, as he had, he
declared, suffered continual fear and apprehension during the lifetime of the
reputed Marchesa, lest the former marriage, through the confession of the
priest who united them, should be publicly attested. The person, he likewise
informed me, who was employed to assassinate Laurette, was his brother, a
native of Italy, who had consented to execute the bloody business, according to
his engagement, in consideration of a splendid reward. That it was their
intention to have murdered her, as she slept, on the night of their arrival at
the wood, but that grief and terror had prevented her from yielding to repose;
and being each unwilling to undertake the task allotted to them, during his
continuance with Maschero, they had mutually agreed to leave her to perish by
famine, having previously determined in what manner the body was to be disposed
of, which was to be entombed in an obscure part of the forest. The wretch, who
was necessary to the crime, whom he had acknowledged for his brother, he
commended to my mercy; and having particularly directed me to this place, soon
afterwards expired in inexpressible agony and horror.'
Enrico,
who had listened with increasing amazement, now arose from his seat, and stood
for some time transfixed in astonishment. The scenes of complicated guilt and
depravity, which had been thus wonderfully unfolded, quite overpowered him; and
when he connected the tender name of father with these enormities, the blood crept
cold through his veins, and a chilling sensation disordered his whole frame.
But as soon as his thoughts glanced upon Laurette and his mother, dwelling upon
the rapture the latter would experience on seeing him, tears of affection and
tenderness fell fast from his eyes; and requesting that the Conte would
liberate Maschero, and deal with him as he thought proper, being in haste to
depart, he flew again to Laurette, who had been long impatiently awaiting his
return.
Lost in
doubt and perplexity, her spirits were now nearly exhausted; and unable to form
any conjecture concerning the person below, from what she had heard, besought
him to acquaint her who he was, and what was his business. Unwilling that she
should suffer even a transient suspense, Enrico, after some little preparation,
informed her all that he deemed necessary for her to know, concealing every
thing for the present which could excite uneasiness, and even disclosing the
joyful part of the intelligence with the utmost circumspection. But when she
was convinced that her dear-lamented friend was in safety, and that there was a
probability of her soon being with her, joy could no longer be restrained, and
tears of tenderness and affection flowed fast upon her cheek.
Fearing
the effect of these indulged transports upon so delicate a frame, Enrico
endeavoured to calm them by an assurance, that nothing should prevail upon him
to remove her immediately, but a promise on her part to become more tranquil.
Whilst
Enrico remained in the prison with Laurette, Maschero was released from his
confinement by the Conte della Croisse, on his solemnly declaring that he would
never again participate in a crime of such magnitude. The punishment for
capital offences by the German laws, being so much worse than death itself, was
held in utter abhorrence by his lenient accuser, the wretch who has committed
them being doomed to wear that external brand of infamy which precludes,
through a miserable existence, the possibility of a return to virtue; that
probably, had he been instigated by no primary consideration, he might have
been tempted to have declined a prosecution without reflecting that by this
clemency he would be espousing the cause of vice, and violating the laws of
justice.
Enrico had
hitherto mentioned nothing to the Conte of the strange discovery made in the
old chamber previous to his arrival; and having now every reason to believe
that the Marchese, his father, was materially concerned in the murder,
evidently committed either in or near that place, determined to avoid it. The
bloody clothes found in the chest were once, he imagined, the property of the
Conte della Caro, who was said to have been massacred in a wood, and whose body
was either buried or concealed in some part of the ruin. But Anselmo, not being
aware of his master's intention, and being anxious to disclose to the stranger
all the wonders of the place, conducted Della Croisse, in his absence, through
the trap-door leading to the apartment, and displayed to him the object of
their mutual surprise.
The Conte
examined the sword, helmet, and garments severally, without being able to
ascertain the unfortunate possessor; but he no sooner discovered the cross of
the military order of knighthood, than he was convinced that they originally
belonged to the Conte della Caro, who, he recollected, from Paoli's confession,
was declared to have been assassinated in a wood or forest. Deeming it
imprudent, however, to give Anselmo admission into the secret, he ascended the
steps, observing that the person, to whom those bloody garments had belonged,
was probably murdered by banditti, who, after having interred the body in some
adjacent place, had secured the clothes of the deceased to prevent detection.
Anselmo
appeared not perfectly satisfied with the conclusion, but made no reply; and
Della Croisse having returned again into the hall, desired he would inform his
master that the carriage had been waiting for a considerable time at the skirts
of the wood; and since all preliminaries were adjusted, he was in readiness to
depart.
Enrico,
attended by the beautiful Laurette, soon entered the room; and as she leaned
gently upon his arm for support, there was something so lovely, so interesting,
in her appearance, that as Della Croisse continued to gaze upon her with a
mixture of pity and admiration, his eyes were suddenly filled with tears; and
scarcely could he subdue his feelings sufficiently to answer the meek effusions
of her gratitude, which she bestowed upon him.
The party
now quitted the ruin, and the armed men, who had attended the Conte for the
purpose of securing the assassin, were discharged without executing their
design. Enrico remembering the ducats he had mentioned to Maschero as the price
of their admission, on a promise, solemnly delivered before them all, that he
would quit his present residence immediately, and endeavour to become an useful
member of society, did not withhold them. Laurette being supported, or rather
carried through the wood, was placed in the carriage with the Conte and Enrico;
the horses were consigned to the care of Anselmo, and the whole party, thus
relieved from fear and anxiety, commenced their journey.
They
travelled leisurely through the day, frequently stopping for refreshment, as
Laurette's weak state required the most strict care and attention. In the
evening they arrived at a small inn on the road, not more than two leagues from
the convent, where they were enabled to procure a suitable person to attend
upon Laurette, and comfortable accommodations for the night.--During their
continuance in this place, Della Croisse acquainted Enrico with the melancholy
incidents of his past life. He also related the manner of his having met with
Madame Chamont at an inn, as she was travelling from the hills of Mount Jura
into Germany; expatiated with gratitude upon her amiable conduct towards him
and his daughter; the still greater obligations she had conferred on him
afterwards by saving him from a miserable death; which little recital he
concluded with a relation of that part of her story which was immediately
connected with his own.
Enrico
listened to all with a painful concern, and thought every moment an age till he
could throw himself at the feet of that beloved parent, from whom he had been
so long, so strangely separated.
Chapter 6
Bring the rath primrose that forsaken dies.
The tufted crow-toe and pale jessamine.
The white pink, and the pancy freaked with jet.
The glowing violet.
The musk-rose, and the well-attir'd woodbine.
With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head.
And every flower that sad embroidery wears.
--MILTON
Rest and
nourishment had so happy an effect upon Laurette, that she was enabled to
prosecute her journey on the ensuing morning without much apparent fatigue. The
vehicle which had conveyed them thither, was stationed at an early hour near
the door of the inn, and our travellers felt their hearts bound with new
sensations of pleasure when they entered it.
As soon as
they were seated, Enrico besought Laurette to acquaint them with all that had
happened to her previous to her quitting the castle; and also by what chance
the letter which he had written to her, remained unanswered.
The
epistle he alluded to, she assured him, was never received; and as letters very
rarely miscarried, they were both internally convinced that it had been
intercepted. She then proceeded to inform him of the strange events which had
taken place during his absence; what she had suffered from the unremitting
assiduities of the Marchese, his cruelty, his threats, when she repeated her
resolution of rejecting him; the conference overheard in the pavilion, and the
unaccountable manner in which she had been forced from the chamber.
Enrico
listened with the most earnest attention as she continued her little affecting
narrative, which was frequently interrupted by her auditors with exclamations
of surprise and horror, particularly in that part of it which treated of the
conversation supported between the Marchese and Paoli in the room of state.
When the
steward had conveyed her, she added, about a league from the mansion, he
endeavoured to dissipate her fears by an assurance of protection, solemnly
declaring that the Marchese had no intention of sacrificing her life; but had
determined to place her in a convent till he could think of some other method
of disposing of her more congenial to his inclinations.--This, she
acknowledged, had the desired effect, as she now imagined that a new plan had
been adopted, less terrible than her former surmises had suggested, and the circumstance
of being confined for life in a cloister, since she now believed herself
separated for ever from her earliest and tenderest connexions, produced
reflections unattended with regret: but her late sufferings occasioned such
languor and indisposition, that they were obliged to alight at a small inn upon
the road. A fever was the consequence of these repeated alarms, which confined
her for some days to the place, during which time she was attended only by a
woman of a very unpromising aspect; a surgeon, resident in an adjacent village,
and Paoli, who expressing the utmost impatience for her recovery, seldom
quitted the room.
'Ah
Laurette!' interrupted Enrico, 'how providential was this illness! But for such
an event, the benevolent exertions of the Conte della Croisse, as well as my
own efforts, to inform myself of your situation, might have been fruitless.'
The fair narrator directed a look of gratitude towards Heaven, and then
continued her recital.
'As soon
as I was able,' resumed Laurette, 'to leave this inn, which presented very
indifferent accommodations, we pursued our journey; and firmly assured, from
what Paoli had advanced, that I was going to be secluded in some religious
retirement, I made no farther attempt to interest his compassion, or obstruct
the prosecution of his purpose.
'On the
evening of the second day after our departure from the inn, he informed me,
that I should be at the end of my journey that night. Again my fears began to
take alarm; I looked wistfully around, but no convent appeared. Night hung her
glooms upon the landscape, but still no hospitable asylum was to be seen. I now
began to imagine I had been deceived; apprehension succeeded to hope, and a
thrilling sensation of horror almost deprived me of reason. We then entered the
precincts of the wood, whose wildness and extent appeared dreadful. The sterile
sublimity of the rocks, which I had hitherto contemplated with awful
admiration, receded from my view. The deafening sound of the cataract softened
in a sad murmur; the wind moaned among the trees, and the hollow sighs, that it
sometimes uttered, seemed to lament my approaching fate. As we entered the
wood, the moon threw a pale, uncertain light upon the eminences; but no sooner
had we arrived near the centre, than her beams were entirely excluded; briars
and entangled thickets frequently intercepted the path, rendering it not more
dreary than dangerous, and voices, heard at intervals in the silence of night,
filled me with new terrors. At length a light was seen streaming through the
trees, proceeding from a distant window. I inquired to whom it belonged, and
was informed it was a house not far from the convent, which would accommodate
us with lodgings for the night. Thither, incapable of making resistance, I
suffered myself to be conveyed. Maschero gave us admittance; and having
conducted us to the liabitable part of the ruin, brought some food. I attempted
to eat, but could not; and pleading lassitude and indisposition, requested to
be directed to my room. Maschero led me to an apartment, and after eyeing me
with a malignant kind of curiosity, withdrew, leaving me, at my desire, the
lamp he had carried, which I considered as an invaluable treasure. As soon as
he had retired, I began to examine the door, in hopes of discovering some
possible means of fastening it; but none appearing, I yielded without restraint
to the impulse of my feelings, which were now too violent to be subdued. When I
had indulged the first paroxysms of my sorrow, I advanced towards the window,
to take a minute survey of my situation, and to ascertain if there was any
apparent possibility of escaping from it, should I be deserted by my artful
conductor, and left in the power of Maschero, whose unprepossessing appearance
had given me justly the idea of an assassin.
'After a
night passed in the utmost distress and anxiety, I was again visited by this
emaciated figure, whose aspect had excited at once pity and terror. He entered
without seeming to recollect that the room contained any other inhabitant, and
after setting a pitcher of water and a cake upon the floor, would have
instantly withdrawn; but I prevented his design by inquiring whether Paoli was
arisen; and being answered in the affirmative, ventured to ask if he had
mentioned any thing relative to our intended departure?'
"You
are at the end of your journey, I believe," replied Maschero, with a
malignant smile; "and since the person who brought you has thought proper
to leave you, must make yourself contented where you are."
'What I
suffered from this intelligence cannot be easily imagined, or rather what I
suffered a short time afterwards; for having fainted, I was not immediately
conscious of what had passed. As soon as I recovered, I found myself again
alone. The door was fastened, and the pitcher and the barley-cake were placed
by the side of the mattress upon which I had fallen. My distress now admitted
of no increase, death appeared unavoidable, and I now began to consider in what
manner it was likely to be executed. Sometimes I conceived it probable that
Paoli had only absented himself for a few days, for the purpose of transacting
some business in that part of the province, and meant to return at the
expiration of that time, and to fulfil his intention. At other times, I
imagined it likely that I was designedly left to perish, either by poison or
famine; and that the steward intended to wait at a convenient distance, till
after my decease, that he might have the satisfaction of conveying the
intelligence to his Lord.
'Two whole
days passed in this manner without any material event, in which time no
creature approached the melancholy chamber selected for my apartment. Hunger
had obliged me to take a small portion of the cake, with which my inhospitable
host had supplied me; it was coarse and unpalatable; but being ready to sink
for want of food, I was compelled to have recourse to it. The next day this
pittance was exhausted, and I soon discovered that it was not the intention of
my gaoler to present me with more, who having closed the door upon me when I
was in a state of insensibility, meant never more to break in upon my solitude
with a repetition of his services.
'As night
advanced, I felt my indisposition considerably augmented; a death-like
faintness was communicated to my heart, and placing myself again upon the
mattress, I endeavoured to resign myself to my lot. At last a loud knocking at
the outer door roused me from my seat. I started, and proceeded towards the
grate; but the gloom prevented me from distinguishing any object, though I had
no remaining doubt but that it was Paoli, who was come to witness the
completion of his dreadful purpose.
'Some
hours passed in the utmost solicitude, till wearied Nature could no longer
resist the attacks of sleep. With what succeeded this period,' resumed
Laurette, 'you are already acquainted; but the extent of my gratitude you
cannot easily comprehend.'
The look,
which accompanied the conclusion of the narrative, was perhaps more expressive
of her feelings than any thing she could have uttered: and those bestowed upon
her by Enrico displayed more of compassion, affection, and tender concern, than
the most forcible language could have conveyed.
The spires
of the convent were now discovered above the tops of the trees, and the most
pleasurable emotions succeeded. It was a stately Gothic edifice, inclosing an
extensive area. The walls, which were at a considerable distance, were
strengthened at the angles by small square towers, which were partly in ruins;
and these, together with the whole of the out-works, though formed of the most
ponderous materials, were crumbling into dust, and were overrun with mosses, lickens,
and other weedy incrustations, which gave it rather the appearance of a
deserted than an inhabited mansion.
When the
party had arrived at a large stone arch, leading into the grounds, they
alighted from the carriage; and having crossed the lawn, were met by a Friar at
the gate, who came forwards to receive them. Of him the Conte della Croisse
made an inquiry concerning the Superior of the convent, and learned from him
that the greatest part of the building was inhabited by a society of Monks, who
were also Benedictines. This he considered was no unfavourable circumstance, as
Enrico and himself might easily gain admission into their order, should their
enterprize not be conducted with the facility they desired: whilst Laurette
might remain resident in the convent till Madame Chamont had obtained
permission to leave it, and could do it without a breach of propriety.
Whilst the
Conte continued in conversation with the Friar, the tolling of a bell,
proceeding from the chapel, which was situated somewhat remote, fixed the
attention of the travellers. Della Croisse inquired the occasion of it, and was
told that a Nun was going to be professed.
'You will
find some difficulty in gaining an introduction to the Superior,' resumed the
Monk, 'till the ceremony is performed. Would it not be better to defer the
execution of your intention till afterwards; and in the meantime, by mixing
with the multitude, you may be gratified with a view of the solemnities. Some
of the sisters are already proceeding towards the chapel, and if you will grant
me permission, I will accompany you thither.'
From what
the Monk had declared, it appeared probable that the Abbess would not indulge
them with an audience till the profession was over; and after thanking him for
his courtesy, they agreed to the proposition.
The
congregation was not at present assembled, and the Friar having conducted them
along the eastern aisle, placed them on a bench of black marble, which was
fixed near the altar, and then left them to join a procession of Monks, who
were commissioned to attend.
As soon as
this religious had retired, the party contemplated, with surprise, the
magnificence and beauty of the chapel. It was supported by pillars of Carara
marble, of the most exquisite workmanship. The niches of the walls were adorned
with images of the saints and martyrs, the performances of the most celebrated
artists, and taste and greatness of design were every where evident.
The organ
was loftily situated in a gallery built for the purpose: it was composed chiefly
of ebony, and ornamented with curtains of crimson velvet, which were curiously
wrought with flowers of gold and purple. The altar was decorated with a
profusion of wax-tapers, interspersed with vases, containing frankincense, and
other costly perfumes. The table was covered with an embroidered cloth, which
was worked by the ingenious hands of the vestals in the most chaste and sacred
devices. A large crucifix was erected in the centre, which was supported on one
side by an image of the Virgin, and on the other by that of Saint Agatha. The
altar-piece was the last supper, by Michael Angelo, which was surrounded by a
number of large medallion-paintings, by the most admired artists, representing
the deaths and sufferings of the martyrs.
When they
had paused for some minutes, to take a general survey of these splendid
decorations, they observed two of the Friars hastening towards the aisle, to
which they had been con-ducted on their arrival. They were habited as
Benedictines; but their garments being made of coarser materials, bespoke
inferiority of rank.
One of
these religious spread a carpet, which he had brought for the purpose, in the
centre of the chapel, whilst the other laid a pall at the steps of the altar.
Soon after this preparation was over, a multitude of spectators assembled,
which curiosity, or some not less active principle of their natures, had
directed thither, who, having placed themselves in the most eligible
situations, awaited the commencement of the sacred rites.
The
funeral-bell, which had been for some time tolling, now ceased, and the loud
peals of the organ were heard in its stead. A train of Monks, attended by their
Superior, then advanced, who moved slowly along the aisle; and the ceremony of
the entrance, which was not more striking than impressive, began. First came
the novices, strewing the floor with the most beautiful evergreens, preserved
and reared for the purpose; then the Lady of the convent, Iattended by the
Nuns, according to their order, with her mitre, and in robes of state; and
lastly, the fair devotee, who was come to take the sacred, the indissoluble
vow, which was to seal her inevitable doom. She was conducted, or rather
supported, by two of the sisterhood, who, with a slow and solemn pace, led her
towards the centre of the chapel, each bearing a lighted taper in her hand. The
music now ceased. A buz of indistinct voices was heard for the moment, which
gradually grew fainter, and then died into silence. Our travellers, having eyed
the procession with a kind of painful curiosity, now left the place on which
they had been seated, and mingled with the throng. In vain did Enrico endeavour
to recognize the features of his mother; for the veils of the novices were so
artfully folded, that their faces were entirely concealed.
As soon as
the procession had reached the steps of the altar, the Superior of the
monastery addressed the devotee in an exhortation replete with unaffected grace
and eloquence, to which she gave the most fixed and earnest attention. The easy
dignity of his manners, the deep pathos of his voice, and above all, the
sublimity of his doctrines, so affected his audience, that the whole
congregation listened to him with devout astonishment.
As soon as
this was delivered, the sister, who was to take the veil, advanced between two
others of the Nuns, to make her profession. Her voice was at first tremulous;
but as she proceeded, it naturally regained its powers; and having answered
some questions which were proposed by the priest, respecting the time of her
initiation, she knelt before him, and made her profession, which was delivered
with the most admirable articulation, and classical elegance.
The
prayers appointed for the occasion were then read, in which the Abbess and the
rest of the Nuns, as well as the Monks who attended, joined with much fervency,
and apparent devotion. As soon as these were concluded, the officiating priest
came forward, and having laid the proper dress of the order upon a small marble
table erected on one side of the altar, began to assort them; whilst the Lady
Abbess took the noviciate veil from the fair devotee, and prepared to enrobe
her in black.--When this covering was removed, the eyes of the spectators were
withdrawn from the priest, and fixed with a gaze of curiosity on the sister. It
discovered a very lovely face, full of the most interesting expression. It was
pale, but it was beautiful, and received lustre and character from a pair of
dark blue eyes, whose fringed lids shaded a complexion of the most dazzling
whiteness; whilst the extreme delicacy of her form was rendered infinitely more
attractive from being finely contrasted with the long sable robe descending far
beneath the feet, the garb, in which the reformed Benedictine Nuns of the
congregation of Mount Calvary are clad.
As soon as
the eternal veil was substituted in the room of the noviciate one, and the
broad belt and the rosary were adjusted, the priest dipped the consecrated
brush in the holy water, and, after having repeatedly crossed himself,
sprinkled the devotee, who being then reconducted to that part of the chapel
where the rest of the sisterhood were assembled, remained for some time at her
devotions. Whilst this ceremony continued, the most solemn breathing strains
issued from the organ, which seemed to wrap the souls of all present in a
divine enthusiasm. These were succeeded by the choral voices of the Monks,
whose deep tones were softened and harmonized by the sweet sound of female
strains occasionally joining in and improving the melody.--These rites being over,
the professed arose from the place in which she had been kneeling, to undergo
that part of the solemnity which appeared to the spectators more awfully
impressive than the rest. She was attended as before by two of the sisters, who
having led her into the centre, receded a few paces back, whilst she threw
herself, with a degree of collected earnestness, upon the carpet. Thus humbled
to the dust, she imprinted a kiss upon the earth, to express her humility and
lowliness of heart, as well as to signify that she had now totally relinquished
the pomps and vanities of the world, to whose follies she was henceforth dead.
The body of the fair votarist was now covered with a pall, as if the spark of
life, which had animated it, was extinguished for ever; whilst the burial
service was chaunted to the notes of the organ, assisted by the vocal powers of
the Nuns, Priests, and Friars, whose wrapt souls seemed to be as much elevated
above the world, and its trifling concerns, as if they had already shaken off
the gross mould that inclosed them.
As soon as
these lofty strains had ceased, the vestal was reconducted to her place; and
after some time spent in prayer, in which she was devoutly joined by the
Priests, Sisters, and whole fraternity of Monks, the consecrated wafer was
administered, and the awful solemnities of the church in the rites of the
Sacrament began. The devotee having received it with an aspect of collected
meekness almost angelic, arose, and having kissed the robes of the officiating
Priest, she bowed herself, with inimitable grace, before the crucifix,
breathing at the same time a repetition of her vow. She then embraced the rest
of the sisterhood, and was conducted by them to the Lady Abbess, who saluted
her with a maternal smile, and afterwards to the novices, who received her with
the most cordial affection; while a number of rose-lipped girls, fair and
beautiful as angels, who were resident for a convent education, strewed flowers
over them as they passed along to the last ceremony, that of the coronation,
emblematic of that crown of glory, which is promised as a reward to those who,
after suffering continual trials and mortifications, are admitted into the
regions of felicity.
When this
was over, the bleeding cross of Mount Calvary was hung in her bosom, whilst the
chaunted hymn, which seemed to utter forth celestial sounds, rose into deep and
choral harmony. All present, being wrapped in undivided attention, appeared to
have forgotten that they were among the inhabitants of that world, above which
they felt so strangely elevated. As the strains died into cadence, which seemed
to have proceeded from no mortal touch, the procession of Nuns and Friars,
attended by their Superiors, retired in the same order in which they had
entered; and our travellers, who during these ceremonies had secluded
themselves as much as possible among the crowd of spectators, emerged from
obscurity. As the novices, who followed in the rear, moved slowly from the
chapel, Enrico observed them with peculiar attention, endeavouring to discover
Madame Chamont, but without success. Many were tall and graceful like her; but
there appeared so great a similarity, from being dressed exactly the same, that
one was scarcely to be distinguished from another.
Delay now
became painful, and the whole party being anxious to obtain some information
relative to the best manner of proceeding, walked rapidly from the chapel; and
having reached the great gate leading to the principal court belonging to the
brotherhood, soon beheld, to their satisfaction, the Friar who had given them
admittance on their arrival, standing with two of the Fathers of the
Benedictine order in the portico of the monastery.
The Conte
instantly advanced to them, and after politely interrogating them concerning
their rules and institutions, repeated his foriner inquiry respecting the
Abbess. The Monk received him as before with the most easy courtesy of manner;
but on his requesting to know if there would be any impropriety in desiring an
immediate audience with the Superior, was advised to defer it till she had
given her charge to the sisterhood--a ceremony never dispensed with.
'If you
have any thing important to learn from, or to disclose to the Abbess,' resumed
the Monk, 'your arrival this day may be termed unfortunate; as when the
solemnities of our church are over, the day is uniformly dedicated to innocent
festivity, in which the Superior herself condescends to join. A feast is always
prepared on this occasion in the refectoire of the convent, at which she also
presides, and a number of Friars, particularly those of the Benedictine
fraternity, and pilgrims are admitted. No business of any kind is allowed to be
transacted this day, which is rendered not only sacred, but glorious, from its
having entitled a beautiful spirit to that eternal reward, which will be
conferred upon those, who, from motives of piety, resign the follies and
vanities of the world.'
'But if I
only interpose in the cause of oppressed innocence,' returned the Conte, 'and
endeavour to steal some hours of sorrow from the heart which has too long felt
its influence; if my business is to bestow comfort upon those, from whom it has
been long withheld, surely this cannot be called an intrusion upon the rites of
their festivity.'
'These
arguments will have but little weight on the present occasion, I fear,' replied
the Monk, thoughtfully; 'and, perhaps, if your request is forwarded with so
little discretion, it may meet with a refusal, or, if otherwise, not with that
degree of attention which it may merit. If you will take my advice, you will
remain here to-night. In this monastery the stranger and the pilgrim are always
received with hospitality; and, although the mode of life we have embraced
excludes us from what are generally esteemed the comforts of life, we have at
least the power of bestowing them upon others. And as to the Lady,' continued
the Friar, turning a look of inquiry towards Laurette, 'I will introduce her to
the convent, where she will be allowed to remain till the morrow.'
Laurette
courtesied meekly, and having thanked the Father for his attention with that
elegance of expression peculiar to herself, awaited the result of the
conference. Upon mature deliberation, the plan, which was marked out for them
by the Friar, was adhered to; and the carriage being stationed at the outer
gate, it was mutually agreed, that the party should remove to some inn, or
cottage, capable of affording them accommodations till the evening, when they
proposed to accept the kind invitation of the Monk, who promised to introduce
them on their return to his Abbot, a man of exemplary goodness and piety.
Doomed a little longer to suffer the pangs of procrastinated happiness, our
travellers again entered the carriage, and soon arrived at a small, but
cleanly, hotel, in which comfortable situation they obtained the rest and
refreshment they required.
Laurette
being much fatigued, at the joint request of Enrico and the Conte della
Croisse, consented to retire, and to endeavour, at least, to obtain some
repose; but the exquisite sensibility of her nature prevented the approach of
sleep; the idea of Madame Chamont, and the scene she had just witnessed, which
called forth all the soft, as well as all the sublime emotions of her soul,
pressed too much upon her thoughts; and though she wished to steal into a
transient forgetfulness, that by salutary rest she might be better enabled to
meet, with becoming fortitude and composure, the tender scene that awaited her,
she found it could not be effected; and when informed that the carriage was in
readiness to convey them to the convent, she arose without having once yielded
to repose, and prepared to obey the summons.
Having
satisfied the master of the hotel, they drove from the door, and arrived at the
gate of the monastery just as vespers were concluded.
The
benevolent Friar, who had been some time in waiting to receive his guests,
advanced forwards to meet them, and having conducted them into a lofty
apartment adjoining the refectoire, introduced them to the Abbot. By him they
were welcomed with that superior kind of courtesy, which is not always attached
to the manners of the recluse; offering them at the same time an asylum in his
monastery till the business which had directed them thither was accomplished;
and also to conduct Laurette to that part of the convent inhabited by the Nuns,
where, he assured her, she would meet with all due respect and attention,
which, he observed, alluding to her languid appearance, seemed to be necessary.
Laurette, who considered that if she prolonged her stay at the monastery after
what the holy Father had said, she might be looked upon by the fraternity as an
intruder, after many acknowledgments of gratitude, consented to accompany him.
As they crossed the spacious area, which directed her so near to her long-lost
friend, all composure forsook her; and she looked round with solicitude, in
hopes of being able to distinguish her among a party of novices, who, with
their veils partly drawn aside, were walking, as if in earnest conversation,
along the winding paths of the shrubberies.
As soon as
she had gained admittance into the interior of the cloister, a message was sent
from the Abbot to the Superior, requesting that she would take a female
stranger under her protection till the ensuing morning. An answer was
immediately returned expressive of the most hearty welcome, which was delivered
by one of the pensioners, who, attended by a Nun, came to conduct her into the
parlour of the convent.
Music,
heard from a distant part of the edifice, convinced Laurette that the
festivities were not over; and being unwilling to detain those who were
constrained by situation to endure a life of austerity and mortification from
the means of occasional enjoyment, she besought them to leave her alone;
assuring the Nun, who was the most assiduously attentive to her, that she
should be enabled to procure a sufficient degree of amusement from the novelty
of the objects.
As it had
been previously determined, that the Conte della Croisse, after having gained
an audience with the Abbess, should unfold his welcome intelligence to Madame
Chamont with all imaginable care and circumspection, Laurette resolved to
conceal herself as much as possible from the rest of the Nuns; and having
failed in her design of dismissing the sister, whose office it was more particularly
to attend upon strangers, she pleaded weariness and indisposition, and
requested to be conveyed to her apartment.
To be continued
