The Monk - Matthew Gregory Lewis [66]
Agnes reclined her head mournfully upon my shoulder, and, by the light of the moon, I saw tears flowing down her cheek. I strove to dissipate her melancholy, and encouraged her to look forward to the prospect of happiness. I protested in the most solemn terms that her virtue and innocence would be safe in my keeping; and that, till the church had made her my lawful wife, her honour should be held by me as sacred as a sister’s. I told her, that my first care should be to find you out, Lorenzo, and reconcile you to our union; and I was continuing to speak in the same strain, when a noise without alarmed me. Suddenly the door of the pavilion was thrown open, and Cunegonda stood before us. She had heard Agnes steal out of her chamber, followed her into the garden, and perceived her entering the pavilion. Favoured by the trees which shaded it, and unperceived by Theodore, who waited at a little distance, she had approached in silence, and overheard our whole conversation.
“Admirable!” cried Cunegonda, in a voice shrill with passion, while Agnes uttered a loud shriek. “By St. Barbara, young lady, you have an excellent invention! You must personate the bleeding nun, truly? What impiety! What incredulity! Marry, I have a good mind to let you pursue your plan. When the real ghost met you, I warrant you would be in a pretty condition! Don Alphonso, you ought to be ashamed of yourself for seducing a young, ignorant creature to leave her family and friends. However, for this time, at least, I shall mar your wicked designs. The noble lady shall be informed of the whole affair, and Agnes must defer playing the spectre till a better opportunity. Farewell, Segnor.—Donna Agnes, let me have the honour of conducting your ghostship back to your apartment.”
She approached the sopha on which her trembling pupil was seated, took her by the hand, and prepared to lead her from the pavilion.
I detained her, and strove by entreaties, soothing, promises, and flattery to win her to my party; but, finding all that I could say of no avail, I abandoned the vain attempt.
“Your obstinacy must be its own punishment,” said I; “but one resource remains to save Agnes and myself, and I shall not hesitate to employ it.”
Terrified at this menace, she again endeavoured to quit the pavilion; but I seized her by the wrist, and detained her forcibly. At the same moment Theodore, who had followed her into the room, closed the door, and prevented her escape. I took the veil of Agnes; I threw it round the duenna’s head, who uttered such piercing shrieks that, in spite of our distance from the castle, I dreaded their being heard. At length I succeeded in gagging her so completely, that she could not produce a single sound. Theodore and myself, with some difficulty, next contrived to bind her hands and feet with our handkerchiefs; and I advised Agnes to regain her chamber with all diligence. I promised that no harm should happen to Cunegonda; bade her remember that, on the fifth of May, I should be in waiting at the great gate of the castle, and took of her an affectionate farewell. Trembling and uneasy, she had scarce power enough to signify her consent to my plans, and fled back to her apartment in disorder and confusion.
In the mean while Theodore assisted me in carrying off my antiquated prize. She was hoisted over the wall, placed before me upon my horse, like a portmanteau, and I galloped away with her from the castle of Lindenberg. The unlucky duenna never had made a more disagreeable journey in her life. She was jolted and shaken till she was become little more than an animated mummy; not to mention her fright, when we waded through a small river, through which it was necessary to pass in order to regain the village. Before we reached the inn, I had already determined how to dispose of the troublesome