The Monk - Matthew Gregory Lewis [142]
“And so, your reverence,” said she, after relating Elvira’s death and burial, with all their circumstances——“and so, your reverence, upon hearing the shriek, I put away my work, and away posted I to Donna Antonia’s chamber. Finding nobody there, I passed on to the next: but I must own I was a little timorous at going in; for this was the very room where Donna Elvira used to sleep. However in I went, and sure enough there lay the young lady at full length upon the floor, as cold as a stone, and as white as a sheet. I was surprised at this, as your holiness may well suppose: but, oh me! how I shook when I saw a great tall figure at my elbow, whose head touched the ceiling! The face was Donna Elvira’s, I must confess; but out of its mouth came clouds of fire; its arms were loaded with heavy chains, which it rattled piteously; and every hair on its head was a serpent as big as my arm. At this I was frightened enough, and began to say my ave-maria: but the ghost interrupting me uttered three loud groans, and roared out in a terrible voice, ‘Oh! that chicken’s wing! my poor soul suffers for it.’ As soon as she had said this, the ground opened, the spectre sank down; I heard a clap of thunder, and the room was filled with a smell of brimstone. When I recovered from my fright, and had brought Donna Antonia to herself, who told me that she had cried out upon seeing her mother’s ghost (and well might she cry, poor soul! had I been in her place, I should have cried ten times louder), it directly came into my head, that if any one had power to quiet this spectre, it must be your reverence. So hither I came in all diligence, to beg that you will sprinkle my house with holy water, and lay the apparition in the Red Sea.”
Ambrosio stared at this strange story, which he could not credit.
“Did Donna Antonia also see the ghost?” said he.
“As plain as I see you, reverend father.”
Ambrosio paused for a moment. Here was an opportunity offered him of gaining access to Antonia, but he hesitated to employ it. The reputation which he enjoyed in Madrid was still dear to him; and since he had lost the reality of virtue, it appeared as if its semblance was become more valuable. He was conscious that publicly to break through the rule never to quit the abbey-precincts would derogate much from his supposed austerity. In visiting Elvira, he had always taken care to keep his features concealed from the domestics. Except by the lady, her daughter, and the faithful Flora, he was known in the family by no other name than that of father Jerome. Should he comply with Jacintha’s request, and accompany her to her house, he knew that the violation of his rule could not be kept a secret. However, his eagerness to see Antonia obtained the victory. He even hoped that the singularity of this adventure would justify him in the eyes of Madrid. But whatever might be the consequences, he resolved to profit by the opportunity which chance had presented to him. An expressive look from Matilda confirmed him in this resolution.
“Good woman,” said he to Jacintha, “what you tell me is so extraordinary that I can scarcely credit your assertions. However, I will comply with your request. Tomorrow, after matins, you may expect me at your house: I will then examine into what I can do for you; and if it is in my power, will free you from this unwelcome visitor. Now then go home, and peace be with you!”
“Home!” exclaimed Jacintha; “I go home? Not I, by my troth!—except under your protection, I set no foot of mine within the threshold. God help me! the ghost may meet me upon the stairs, and whisk me away with her to the devil! Oh! that I had accepted young Melchior Basco’s offer! then I would have had somebody to protect me; but now I am a lone woman, and meet with nothing but crosses and misfortunes. Thank Heaven it is not yet too late to repent. There is Simon Gonzalez will have me any day of the week; and if I live till day-break, I will marry him out of hand: an husband I will have, that is determined;