had really seen her Mother's Ghost, had heard the period of her
dissolution announced and declared that She never should quit
her bed alive. Ambrosio advised her against encouraging these
sentiments, and then quitted her chamber, having promised to
repeat his visit on the morrow. Antonia received this assurance
with every mark of joy: But the Monk easily perceived that He
was not equally acceptable to her Attendant. Flora obeyed
Elvira's injunctions with the most scrupulous observance. She
examined every circumstance with an anxious eye likely in the
least to prejudice her young Mistress, to whom She had been
attached for many years. She was a Native of Cuba, had followed
Elvira to Spain, and loved the young Antonia with a Mother's
affection. Flora quitted not the room for a moment while the
Abbot remained there: She watched his every word, his every
look, his every action. He saw that her suspicious eye was
always fixed upon him, and conscious that his designs would not
bear inspection so minute, He felt frequently confused and
disconcerted. He was aware that She doubted the purity of his
intentions; that She would never leave him alone with Antonia,
and his Mistress defended by the presence of this vigilant
Observer, He despaired of finding the means to gratify his
passion.
As He quitted the House, Jacintha met him, and begged that some
Masses might be sung for the repose of Elvira's soul, which She
doubted not was suffering in Purgatory. He promised not to
forget her request; But He perfectly gained the old Woman's
heart by engaging to watch during the whole of the approaching
night in the haunted chamber. Jacintha could find no terms
sufficiently strong to express her gratitude, and the Monk
departed loaded with her benedictions.
It was broad day when He returned to the Abbey. His first care
was to communicate what had past to his Confident. He felt too
sincere a passion for Antonia to have heard unmoved the
prediction of her speedy death, and He shuddered at the idea of
losing an object so dear to him. Upon this head Matilda
reassured him. She confirmed the arguments which Himself had
already used: She declared Antonia to have been deceived by the
wandering of her brain, by the Spleen which opprest her at the
moment, and by the natural turn of her mind to superstition, and
the marvellous. As to Jacintha's account, the absurdity refuted
itself; The Abbot hesitated not to believe that She had
fabricated the whole story, either confused by terror, or hoping
to make him comply more readily with her request. Having
overruled the Monk's apprehensions, Matilda continued thus.
'The prediction and the Ghost are equally false; But it must be
your care, Ambrosio, to verify the first. Antonia within three
days must indeed be dead to the world; But She must live for you.
Her present illness, and this fancy which She has taken into her
head, will colour a plan which I have long meditated, but which
was impracticable without your procuring access to Antonia. She
shall be yours, not for a single night, but for ever. All the
vigilance of her Duenna shall not avail her: You shall riot
unrestrained in the charms of your Mistress. This very day must
the scheme be put in execution, for you have no time to lose.
The Nephew of the Duke of Medina Celi prepares to demand Antonia
for his Bride: In a few days She will be removed to the Palace
of her Relation, the Marquis de las Cisternas, and there She will
be secure from your attempts. Thus during your absence have I
been informed by my Spies, who are ever employed in bringing me
intelligence for your service. Now then listen to me. There is
a juice extracted from certain herbs, known but to few, which
brings on the Person who drinks it the exact image of Death. Let
this be administered to Antonia: You may easily find means to
pour a few drops into her medicine. The effect will be throwing
her into strong convulsions for an hour: After which her blood
will gradually cease to flow, and heart to beat; A mortal
paleness will spread itself over her features, and She will
appear a Corse to every eye. She has no Friends about her: You
may charge yourself unsuspected with the superintendence of her
funeral, and cause her to be buried in the Vaults of St. Clare.
Their solitude and easy access render these Caverns favourable to
your designs. Give Antonia the soporific draught this Evening:
Eight and forty hours after She has drank it, Life will revive to
her bosom. She will then be absolutely in your power: She will
find all resistance unavailing, and necessity will compel her to
receive you in her arms.'
'Antonia will be in my power!' exclaimed the Monk; 'Matilda, you
transport me! At length then, happiness will be mine, and that
happiness will be Matilda's gift, will be the gift of friendship!
I shall clasp Antonia in my arms, far from every prying eye, from
every tormenting Intruder! I shall sigh out my soul upon her
bosom; Shall teach her young heart the first rudiments of
pleasure, and revel uncontrouled in the endless variety of her
charms! And shall this delight indeed by mine? Shall I give the
reins to my desires, and gratify every wild tumultuous wish? Oh!
Matilda, how can I express to you my gratitude?'
'By profiting by my counsels. Ambrosio, I live but to serve you:
Your interest and happiness are equally mine. Be your person
Antonia's, but to your friendship and your heart I still assert
my claim. Contributing to yours forms now my only pleasure.
Should my exertions procure the gratification of your wishes, I
shall consider my trouble to be amply repaid. But let us lose no
time. The liquor of which I spoke is only to be found in St.
Clare's Laboratory. Hasten then to the Prioress; Request of her
admission to the Laboratory, and it will not be denied. There is
a Closet at the lower end of the great Room, filled with liquids
of different colours and qualities. The Bottle in question
stands by itself upon the third shelf on the left. It contains a
greenish liquor: Fill a small phial with it when you are
unobserved, and Antonia is your own.'
The Monk hesitated not to adopt this infamous plan. His desires,
but too violent before, had acquired fresh vigour from the sight
of Antonia. As He sat by her bedside, accident had discovered to
him some of those charms which till then had been concealed from
him: He found them even more perfect, than his ardent imagination
had pictured them. Sometimes her white and polished arm was
displayed in arranging the pillow: Sometimes a sudden movement
discovered part of her swelling bosom: But whereever the
new-found charm presented itself, there rested the Friar's
gloting eyes. Scarcely could He master himself sufficiently to
conceal his desires from Antonia and her vigilant Duenna.
Inflamed by the remembrance of these beauties, He entered into
Matilda's scheme w
ithout hesitation.
No sooner were Matins over than He bent his course towards the
Convent of St. Clare: His arrival threw the whole Sisterhood
into the utmost amazement. The Prioress was sensible of the
honour done her Convent by his paying it his first visit, and
strove to express her gratitude by every possible attention. He
was paraded through the Garden, shown all the reliques of Saints
and Martyrs, and treated with as much respect and distinction as
had He been the Pope himself. On his part, Ambrosio received the
Domina's civilities very graciously, and strove to remove her
surprize at his having broken through his resolution. He stated,
that among his penitents, illness prevented many from quitting
their Houses. These were exactly the People who most needed his
advice and the comforts of Religion: Many representations had
been made to him upon this account, and though highly repugnant
to his own wishes, He had found it absolutely necessary for the
service of heaven to change his determination, and quit his
beloved retirement. The Prioress applauded his zeal in his
profession and his charity towards Mankind: She declared that
Madrid was happy in possessing a Man so perfect and
irreproachable. In such discourse, the Friar at length reached
the Laboratory. He found the Closet: The Bottle stood in the
place which Matilda had described, and the Monk seized an
opportunity to fill his phial unobserved with the soporific
liquor. Then having partaken of a Collation in the Refectory, He
retired from the Convent pleased with the success of his visit,
and leaving the Nuns delighted by the honour conferred upon them.
He waited till Evening before He took the road to Antonia's
dwelling. Jacintha welcomed him with transport, and besought him
not to forget his promise to pass the night in the haunted
Chamber: That promise He now repeated. He found Antonia
tolerably well, but still harping upon the Ghost's prediction.
Flora moved not from her Lady's Bed, and by symptoms yet stronger
than on the former night testified her dislike to the Abbot's
presence. Still Ambrosio affected not to observe them. The
Physician arrived, while He was conversing with Antonia. It was
dark already; Lights were called for, and Flora was compelled to
descend for them herself. However, as She left a third Person in
the room, and expected to be absent but a few minutes, She
believed that She risqued nothing in quitting her post. No
sooner had She left the room, than Ambrosio moved towards the
Table, on which stood Antonia's medicine: It was placed in a
recess of the window. The Physician seated in an armed-chair,
and employed in questioning his Patient, paid no attention to the
proceedings of the Monk. Ambrosio seized the opportunity: He
drew out the fatal Phial, and let a few drops fall into the
medicine. He then hastily left the Table, and returned to the
seat which He had quitted. When Flora made her appearance with
lights, every thing seemed to be exactly as She had left it.
The Physician declared that Antonia might quit her chamber the
next day with perfect safety. He recommended her following the
same prescription which, on the night before, had procured her a
refreshing sleep: Flora replied that the draught stood ready
upon the Table: He advised the Patient to take it without delay,
and then retired. Flora poured the medicine into a Cup and
presented it to her Mistress. At that moment Ambrosio's courage
failed him. Might not Matilda have deceived him? Might not
Jealousy have persuaded her to destroy her Rival, and substitute
poison in the room of an opiate? This idea appeared so
reasonable that He was on the point of preventing her from
swallowing the medicine. His resolution was adopted too late:
The Cup was already emptied, and Antonia restored it into Flora's
hands. No remedy was now to be found: Ambrosio could only
expect the moment impatiently, destined to decide upon Antonia's
life or death, upon his own happiness or despair.
Dreading to create suspicion by his stay, or betray himself by
his mind's agitation, He took leave of his Victim, and withdrew
from the room. Antonia parted from him with less cordiality than
on the former night. Flora had represented to her Mistress that
to admit his visits was to disobey her Mother's orders: She
described to her his emotion on entering the room, and the fire
which sparkled in his eyes while He gazed upon her. This had
escaped Antonia's observation, but not her Attendant's; Who
explaining the Monk's designs and their probable consequences in
terms much clearer than Elvira's, though not quite so delicate,
had succeeded in alarming her young Lady, and persuading her to
treat him more distantly than She had done hitherto. The idea of
obeying her Mother's will at once determined Antonia. Though She
grieved at losing his society, She conquered herself sufficiently
to receive the Monk with some degree of reserve and coldness.
She thanked him with respect and gratitude for his former visits,
but did not invite his repeating them in future. It now was not
the Friar's interest to solicit admission to her presence, and He
took leave of her as if not designing to return. Fully
persuaded that the acquaintance which She dreaded was now at an
end, Flora was so much worked upon by his easy compliance that
She began to doubt the justice of her suspicions. As She lighted
him down Stairs, She thanked him for having endeavoured to root
out from Antonia's mind her superstitious terrors of the
Spectre's prediction: She added, that as He seemed interested in
Donna Antonia's welfare, should any change take place in her
situation, She would be careful to let him know it. The Monk in
replying took pains to raise his voice, hoping that Jacintha
would hear it. In this He succeeded; As He reached the foot of
the Stairs with his Conductress, the Landlady failed not to make
her appearance.
'Why surely you are not going away, reverend Father?' cried She;
'Did you not promise to pass the night in the haunted Chamber?
Christ Jesus! I shall be left alone with the Ghost, and a fine
pickle I shall be in by morning! Do all I could, say all I
could, that obstinate old Brute, Simon Gonzalez, refused to marry
me today; And before tomorrow comes, I suppose, I shall be torn
to pieces, by the Ghosts, and Goblins, and Devils, and what not!
For God's sake, your Holiness, do not leave me in such a woeful
condition! On my bended knees I beseech you to keep your
promise: Watch this night in the haunted chamber; Lay the
Apparition in the Red Sea, and Jacintha remembers you in her
prayers to the last day of her existence!'
This request Ambrosio expected and desired; Yet He affected to
raise objections, and to seem unwilling to keep his word. He
told Jacintha that the Ghost existed nowhere but in her own
brain, and that her insisting upon his staying all night in the
House wa
s ridiculous and useless. Jacintha was obstinate: She
was not to be convinced, and pressed him so urgently not to leave
her a prey to the Devil, that at length He granted her request.
All this show of resistance imposed not upon Flora, who was
naturally of a suspicious temper. She suspected the Monk to be
acting a part very contrary to his own inclinations, and that He
wished for no better than to remain where He was. She even went
so far as to believe that Jacintha was in his interest; and the
poor old Woman was immediately set down, as no better than a
Procuress. While She applauded herself for having penetrated
into this plot against her Lady's honour, She resolved in secret
to render it fruitless.
'So then,' said She to the Abbot with a look half-satirical and
half indignant; 'So then you mean to stay here tonight? Do so,
in God's name! Nobody will prevent you. Sit up to watch for the
Ghost's arrival: I shall sit up too, and the Lord grant that I
may see nothing worse than a Ghost! I quit not Donna Antonia's
Bedside during this blessed night: Let me see any one dare to
enter the room, and be He mortal or immortal, be He Ghost, Devil,
or Man, I warrant his repenting that ever He crossed the
threshold!'
This hint was sufficiently strong, and Ambrosio understood its
meaning. But instead of showing that He perceived her
suspicions; He replied mildly that He approved the Duenna's
precautions, and advised her to persevere in her intention.
This, She assured him faithfully that He might depend upon her
doing. Jacintha then conducted him into the chamber where the
Ghost had appeared, and Flora returned to her Lady's.
Jacintha opened the door of the haunted room with a trembling
hand: She ventured to peep in; But the wealth of India would not
have tempted her to cross the threshold. She gave the Taper to
the Monk, wished him well through the adventure, and hastened to
be gone. Ambrosio entered. He bolted the door, placed the light
upon the Table, and seated himself in the Chair which on the
former night had sustained Antonia. In spite of Matilda's
assurances that the Spectre was a mere creation of fancy, his
mind was impressed with a certain mysterious horror. He in vain
endeavoured to shake it off. The silence of the night, the story
of the Apparition, the chamber wainscotted with dark oak
The Monk - A Romance Page 37