The cottager acceded, with much good humour, to the request; and leaving the room for a few minutes, presented them on her return with some newly-gathered grapes, which her husband, she added, had just brought from the vineyard. These, in consideration of the fruits and other provisions which they had conveyed thither, were politely refused; and the baskets being opened, some of the most delicious sweetmeats were offered to the cottager, of which she modestly consented to partake; some wine was then produced by the hostess, which, more from courtesy than inclination, was accepted.
This simple repast being concluded, the Signora desired her young companions would leave her to the care of her humane entertainer and the female domestics who had accompanied them, and continue their ramble.
At first Laurette objected to the proposal, being unwilling to leave her friend in a state of indisposition; but her arguments were overruled by those of the Signora and Enrico, who could not forbear joining in the request.
As they were retiring from the cottage, the entrance of the mountaineer, who was its possessor, prevented their design; not being prepared to expect visitors, his looks expressed surprise and pleasure, but without making any enquiries, he drew chairs for his young guests, and desired they would be seated. They obeyed, and the peasant addressing himself to his wife, desired her to prepare some refreshment. The Signora, who understood his meaning rather from his gestures than his words, not being perfectly conversant in the German tongue, informed him they had just been regaling themselves with some fruits, and concluded with thanking him for his attention and hospitality.
The party then alternately explained the occasion of their visit; expatiating, at the same time, on the neatness and simplicity of the cottage, the fineness of its situation, and the pure and exalted felicities of rural life.
Enrico beheld, with an equal degree of curiosity and pleasure, the peculiar form and countenance of the mountaineer: from some lines in his face, his long beard, which characterizes the inhabitants of Saltzburg, and the silver hairs which were thinly scattered among his fine chestnut locks, he might have been supposed to have been upwards of fifty, did not his light carriage, his glowing complexion, and his fine dark speaking eyes, seem to contradict the supposition. An inexpressible serenity of soul was pictured upon his brow, whilst the whole contour of his face, which was regular, exhibited a certain dignity of mind inseparable from a virtuous character. There was indeed something altogether in his figure and deportment not easy to describe; and our hero regretted his want of sufficient skill in the provincial dialect, which prevented the agreeable communication with him that this circumstance would have afforded.
Enrico having reminded Laurette of their intended ramble, they arose to depart; and informing the Signora that they would call on her again before they returned to the castle, they repeated their acknowledgments to the host and his benevolent companion, and ascended the summit of the mountain.
The prospect from this eminence was more extensive and picturesque than they had ventured to imagine; and as they gazed alternately on the surrounding objects, and on each other, they yielded to the exquisite sensations of the moment; forgetting in the happiness of the present, the unpromising aspect of the future, the approaching separation, and the despondency they had so lately indulged.
The village consisted of a number of cottages, built of stone, and straggled amid the rocks, without the appearance of design or order; a few wooden huts, inhabited chiefly by shepherds and vine-dressers, with the ruins of an abbey, standing lonely and solitary nearly at the foot of the mountain, and what had formerly been the conventual church, but was now left open for the devout accommodations of the unlettered rustics.
The extremity of the eminence commanded, on one side, the wide part of the valley which ran between two beautiful hills, parts of which were cultivated to their summits with the vine and pomegranate, and other parts covered with rich dark woods, encircled with lakes, whose effect was not less singular than charming; on the other side were large masses of yellow granite, rising in the most grotesque forms, and the deep glen through which they had at first ascended, whose rocky points were yet sparkling in the rays of the sun, whilst the depth below was veiled in perpetual shade and obscurity. A vast chain of hills bounded the horizon, which were scarcely to be distinguished from the clouds which rested upon them, and which gave grandeur and sublimity to the landscape.
Being somewhat fatigued with traversing the mountain, Enrico and Laurette seated themselves upon a rock, and in cheerful unrestrained conversation, disregarded the lapse of time, and even the unequalled magnificence of scenery which was every way presented.
As Enrico fixed his eyes tenderly upon Laurette, he thought she never before appeared so beautiful as at that moment; her dress was more than ordinarily negligent, and the wind, which had disordered her fine hair, had given a soft bloom to her complexion, which no vermilion could emulate. Whilst he continued to regard her elegant form, which for grace and proportion might have been taken as a model for perfection, and listened to the sweet accents of her voice, his soul was resigned to the fascinating influence of love and beauty; but when he reflected upon the Marchese, who, he was assured, could not behold such inimitable perfections with indifference, he fell suddenly from the most animated discourse into fits of musing and dejection, to which a mind, less interested in his happiness than Laurette's, could not be insensible.
She recollected what had passed in the pavilion, and also the conversation of the preceding evening, when he mentioned having had another conference with the venerable Carthusian, but was prevented from acquainting her with the result by the appearance of the Signora.
The person from whom he had obtained information concerning the Marchese, she believed could be no other than the Father Benedicta, who, from his looks and manners when she presented him with the letter previous to her quitting her former abode, and from some hints he had then dropped, was evidently concerned on her account; and it was equally certain that he was not much prejudiced either in favour of the epistle or the writer.
Anxious to be acquainted with the extent of his fears, that she might administer all possible consolation, yet fearful of increasing the uneasiness of Enrico by reverting to the cause of it, she at last ventured to ask how long Anselmo's indisposition had detained him at the monastery? and whether the Monk had mentioned any thing in which they were materially interested?
Enrico did not instantly reply; for it was difficult to command his feelings, and the eyes of Laurette being fixed upon his with an expression of earnest and tender solicitude, tended to heighten his distress.—Finding, at length, that suspense was becoming painful, be assumed an appearance of composure, and then began as follows.
CHAPTER IV
Love only feels the marvellous of pain.
Opens new veins of torture in the heart.
And wakes the nerve where agonies are born.
-YOUNG
"My first visit to the father was short, for it was long past midnight when I entered his cell. What happened at that interview I have already related. He appeared at first much affected, but afterwards became more tranquil; and a message from the Superior, who politely accommodated me with a bed, put an end to all farther discourse.
"I was then conducted to my apartment by one of the lay brothers, whose office it is to attend upon pilgrims, and being weary and exhausted with grief and fatigue, obtained a transient forgetfulness in repose. I had not slept long, before I was alarmed by the tolling of a bell, whose hollow and heavy sound vibrating through the buildings, produced a melancholy and solemn effect. Knowing that this was not the usual summons to the early matins, I conceived it portended some extraordinary event, and being desirous of learning the occasion of it, arose and dressed myself in haste. These suspicions were confirmed by the shutting and opening of doors, the murmur of distant voices, and of the number of footsteps which were heard passing and repassing the cloisters.
"I endeavoured, for a considerable
time, to arrest the attention of some of the Friars by calling at the door of my apartment, but without success, and was retiring to my bed without being acquainted with the cause of this alarm, when one of the brotherhood, whom I afterwards discovered to be the same who had given me admittance on my arrival, entered the chamber, and informed me that the bell I had heard announced the departure of a soul that was just fled to its eternal home.
"I started, and without giving myself time for reflection, demanded whether the person he alluded to was Father Benedicta. The answer was a negative; it was Father Marco, who had been long ill, and whose death had been some time expected. Thanking him for his attention, he withdrew; and, glad to find my fears respecting the worthy Monk were not realized, I endeavoured to compose myself to rest.
"In the morning I was introduced to the Prior, who received me with much cordiality and friendship. We conversed for some time over the morning's repast upon different subjects, which he discussed with much ease and fluency, though it was not without reluctance that I entered into a conversation, which, however animated on the part of the Superior, was in my present tone of spirits, tedious and uninteresting.
"Having obtained his permission to revisit Father Benedicta, who I was assured was in a state of convalescence, though not sufficiently recovered to attend prayers in the chapel, I availed myself of the indulgence, and repaired to his cell.
"On opening the door, I observed this devout Monk, being newly arisen, was engaged in the performance of his devotions. He was kneeling at a square stone table on the eastern side of the room, that was covered with a black cloth, on which were placed a human scull, and other mementos of mortality; a small ivory crucifix stood in the centre, over which was suspended a painting, representing the resurrection of Lazarus.
"Fearing I had obtruded myself into his presence at an improper hour, I apologized for my intrusion, and would have retired, but he prevented my design, and leading me to a seat, "You are welcome, my son," said he, with his accustomed mildness; "a visit from you can never be unseasonable; it is a gratification which I have long anxiously desired, and for which I have waited perhaps too impatiently."
"Here he hesitated; and, on looking up, I thought I discovered something more in his countenance than its usual expression: the fire of devotion was still in his eyes; his face, which was marked with the lines of penitence and sorrow, was animated with a faint glow that crossed his cheek and disappeared, leaving upon the features it thus transiently illumined, that kind of dignified tenderness which we generally attribute to beings of a superior order.
"You are doubtless acquainted with some unfortunate events that have taken place since you last joined your regiment," resumed the Father, "but possibly have not been able to ascertain the cause of the compulsive and arbitrary measures employed; or to form any conception as to what part of the Continent Madame Chamont, your excellent parent, is conveyed."
"After assuring him that I had but recently received this unwelcome intelligence, and was unable to form any conjecture concerning it, I demanded eagerly why the castle was deserted; and whither you and the rest of its inhabitants were removed?
"They are removed, I think," returned the Monk, meekly, "to a castle in the principality of Saltzburg."
"Think, Father!" I replied, "gracious heaven! do you then only think? If you are not certain they are there, or in some place of security, I shall suspect that there remains another calamity to be unfolded, another attack upon my peace, perhaps severer than the last."
"You are impetuous, my son," returned the Monk, "but these are trials that put our virtues to the proof, and frequently render ineffectual the most vigorous efforts of reason and fortitude. Though we must endeavour to endure as christians, we must feel as men; nor can we expect to see always the warm affections of youth corrected and regulated by the calmness of discretion. Laurette, the subject of your enquiry, is still under the protection of the Marchese de Montferrat, though not under his eye; the Marchese being still resident at the Castello St Aubin, in the neighbourhood of Turin.
"You have at last relieved me, holy Father, I replied, from a state of perplexity and suspense that was becoming almost insupportable; and which, I hope, will, in some measure, excuse that extreme impetuosity of which you have justly accused me, and which the most perfect esteem for your character would, on any common occasion, have prevented me from discovering."
"Father Benedicta bowed; then asked if I had been introduced to my patron, and, if not, whether he had never intimated a desire, either by message or letter, of being personally known to me? On my convincing him of the contrary, he was evidently much amazed; and enquired, with some appearance of confusion, if I was acquainted with the nature of the connexion which had so long subsisted between the Marchese and Madame Chamont?
"I informed him that I was not; for every thing that could lead to the subject had been as much as possible avoided, and that whenever I had ventured to introduce any thing likely to have this tendency, my mother appeared chagrined and unhappy; that she never on any account mentioned my father, and scrupulously concealed every circumstance of her past life; that the name of the Marchese seldom escaped her lips, though I was compelled to believe, from the earliest period of my existence, that my only dependance was upon him; and that, from the native generosity of his disposition, he had sent to the protection of my mother a lovely little girl, who was supposed to be the orphan daughter of a deceased friend: from which circumstance, as well as from the conversation of his steward, I was taught to reverence him as a father, to respect him as a friend, and to consider him as a man of stainless honour and unblemished reputation, to whom only I could look as to the patron of my future days.
"Would to heaven you was not mistaken, my son!" returned the Monk, mournfully, "perhaps I am not justified in advancing any thing which may serve to counteract principles so heedfully instilled into your mind in early youth, but I fear you have been miserably deceived. Is it possible that you are unacquainted with the unfortunate story of the Conte della Croisse?" resumed he, sighing deeply, and pausing to await my answer. You have not, I think, been stationary at the Castle of Elfinbach since a certain strange and, I may say, providential discovery."
"On my requesting to know what was the discovery he alluded to, he betrayed many symptoms of astonishment, and then added, "You are, I find, designedly kept ignorant of the affair; and since, by extending your knowledge, I might possibly injure your repose, an explanation would be unpardonable.
"Indeed," continued the Monk, seeming to recollect himself, "I may have been too uncandid in my conjectures; we are apt to reflect upon our own frailties and imperfections with partiality, and to judge too unfavourably of the conduct of others. The Marchese may have some virtues."
"Here the father was silent; and, being anxious to comprehend the extent of his suspicions, I acknowledged myself much interested in what had already been recited, and besought him to indulge me with an explanation, and inform me who was the Conte della Croisse, and with whom his story was connected. A violent emotion seemed to agitate his frame as I repeated this request, and, without answering me, he arose and paced the room for some time with quick and perturbed steps; and then, after regarding me with a look of fixed and earnest attention—
"My son," cried he, "this subject is too painful; neither my health nor my spirits will allow me to continue it; and, since it will inevitably endanger our mutual peace, we will defer it till some future period, when, should an explanation be necessary, whatever torment it may inflict upon myself, I will give it you."
"Watch over Laurette with the tender solicitude of a brother; for she is young, artless, and beautiful, and may have need of a disinterested protector. I wished to have had some conversation with that dear child, but she was taken suddenly from the castle, and every precaution I had formed for her future welfare was, by this means, rendered ineffectual."
"Having thanked him for the zeal he had discovered in your cause with the ardour natur
al to my disposition, the Monk cast upon me a look of tenderness, and continued—
"It is needless to exhort you to exert your most strenuous endeavours to inform yourself of the destiny of your unfortunate parent; but let me request, nay command, that, should every effort prove inefficacious, you will not allow yourself to sink into despondency; but remember the duty you owe to your God, to yourself, and to your country. Recollect that wherever she is, she is equally under the protection of heaven, who never abandons the virtuous; and that your utmost exertions are necessary as well for your own preservation and advancement, as to support the unprotected innocence of your adopted sister."
"Here the father remained silent; and the entrance of a Monk, who came to enquire into the state of his health, put an end to all farther discourse upon the subject. Having no hopes of renewing it, I took my leave; and, with a mind but ill at ease, repaired to the cottage to fulfil my engagement with Anselmo.
"I found him considerably better, and much more cheerful than on the preceding evening. He told me he was in readiness to accompany me, though his looks did not agree with the assertion, for he still appeared pale and enervated.
"Having continued with him some hours, I availed myself of the Prior's invitation to return to, and remain in, the monastery, till Anselmo was in a situation to travel. During this period, my time was chiefly devoted to the society of Father Benedicta; but nothing could prevail on him to renew the discourse. He seemed to repent having touched upon it at all, and we parted mutually dissatisfied; he regretting that he had said so much, and I that he had explained so little.
"The rest of the narrative may be concluded in a few words: I left him considerably recovered, and received his heavenly benediction, mingled with tears and gentle remonstrances; and, having obtained a direction to the Castle of Lunenburg, set forwards, attended by Anselmo, for Saltzburg. No material incident happened on my journey, and with the rest you are acquainted.
The Complete Northanger Horrid Novel Collection (9 Books of Gothic Romance and Horror) Page 355