The Monk - Matthew Gregory Lewis [126]
“But at least,” said the old porteress, “take care not to sing any thing profane.”
“You may depend upon my discretion,” replied Theodore; “you shall hear how dangerous it is for young women to abandon themselves to their passions, illustrated by the adventure of a damsel, who fell suddenly in love with an unknown knight.”
“But is the adventure true?” enquired the porteress.
“Every word of it. It happened in Denmark; and the heroine was thought so beautiful, that she was known by no other name but that of ‘the lovely maid.’ ”
“In Denmark, say you?” mumbled an old nun: “Are not the people all blacks in Denmark?”
“By no means, reverend lady; they are of a delicate pea-green, with flame-coloured hair and whiskers.”
“Mother of God! Pea-green?” exclaimed sister Helena: “Oh! ’Tis impossible!”
“Impossible!” said the porteress, with a look of contempt and exultation: “Not at all: when I was a young woman, I remember seeing several of them myself.”
Theodore now put his instrument in proper order. He had read the story of a king of England, whose prison was discovered by a minstrel; and he hoped that the same scheme would enable him to discover Agnes, should she be in the convent. He chose a ballad, which she had taught him herself in the castle of Lindenberg: she might possibly catch the sound, and he hoped to hear her replying to some of the stanzas. His guitar was now in tune, and he prepared to strike it.
“But, before I begin,” said he, “it is necessary to inform you, ladies, that this same Denmark is terribly infested by sorcerers, witches, and evil spirits. Every element possesses its appropriate dæmons. The woods are haunted by a malignant power, called ‘The Erl, or Oak-King:’ he it is who blights the trees, spoils the harvest, and commands the imps and goblins. He appears in the form of an old man of majestic figure, with a golden crown, and long white beard. His principal amusement is to entice young children from their parents; and as soon as he gets them into his cave, he tears them into a thousand pieces. The rivers are governed by another fiend, called ‘The Water-King:’ his province is to agitate the deep, occasion shipwrecks, and drag the drowning sailors beneath the waves. He wears the appearance of a warrior, and employs himself in luring young virgins into his snare: what he does with them, when he catches them in the water, reverend ladies, I leave for you to imagine. ‘The Fire-King’ seems to be a man all formed of flames: he raises the meteors and wandering lights, which beguile travellers into ponds and marshes, and he directs the lightning where it may do most mischief. The last of these elementary dæmons is called ‘The Cloud-King:’ his figure is that of a beautiful youth, and he is distinguished by two large sable wings: though his outside is so enchanting, he is not a bit better disposed than the others. He is continually employed in raising storms, tearing up forests by the roots, and blowing castles and convents about the ears of their inhabitants. The first has a daughter, who is queen of the elves and fairies: the second has a mother, who is a powerful enchantress. Neither of these ladies are worth more than the gentlemen. I do not remember to have heard any family assigned to the two other dæmons, but at present I have no business with any of them except the fiend of the waters. He is the hero of my ballad; but I thought it necessary, before I began, to give you some account of his proceedings.”
Theodore then played a short symphony; after which, stretching his voice to its utmost extent, to facilitate its reaching the ear