The Monk - Matthew Gregory Lewis [96]
“But one question more, Segnora, and I leave you. Should the duke of Medina approve my love, would my addresses be unacceptable to yourself and the fair Antonia?”
“I will be open with you, Don Lorenzo: there being little probability of such an union taking place, I fear that it is desired but too ardently by my daughter. You have made an impression upon her young heart which gives me the most serious alarm: to prevent that impression from growing stronger, I am obliged to decline your acquaintance. For me, you may be sure that I should rejoice at establishing my child so advantageously. Conscious that my constitution, impaired by grief and illness, forbids me to expect a long continuance in this world, I tremble at the thought of leaving her under the protection of a perfect stranger. The marquis de las Cisternas is totally unknown to me. He will marry: his lady may look upon Antonia with an eye of displeasure, and deprive her of her only friend. Should the duke, your uncle, give his consent, you need not doubt obtaining mine and my daughter’s; but, without his, hope not for ours. At all events, whatever steps you may take, whatever may be the duke’s decision, till you know it, let me beg your forbearing to strengthen, by your presence, Antonia’s prepossession. If the sanction of your relations authorises your addressing her as your wife, my doors fly open to you. If that sanction is refused, be satisfied to possess my esteem and gratitude, but remember that we must meet no more.”
Lorenzo promised reluctantly to conform to this decree: but he added, that he hoped soon to obtain that consent, which would give him a claim to the renewal of their acquaintance. He then explained to her why the marquis had not called in person; and made no scruple of confiding to her his sister’s history. He concluded by saying, “that he hoped to set Agnes at liberty the next day; and that, as soon as Don Raymond’s fears were quieted upon this subject, he would lose no time in assuring Donna Elvira of his friendship and protection.”
The lady shook her head.
“I tremble for your sister,” said she; “I have heard many traits of the domina of St. Clare’s character from a friend who was educated in the same convent with her: she reported her to be haughty, inflexible, superstitious, and revengeful. I have since heard, that she is infatuated with the idea of rendering her convent the most regular in Madrid, and never forgave those whose imprudence threw upon it the slightest stain. Though naturally violent and severe, when her interests require it, she well knows how to assume an appearance of benignity. She leaves no means untried to persuade young women of rank to become members of her community: she is implacable when once incensed, and has too much intrepidity to shrink at taking the most rigorous measures for punishing the offender. Doubtless, she will consider your sister’s quitting the convent as a disgrace thrown upon it: she will use every artifice to avoid obeying the mandate of his holiness; and I shudder to think that Donna Agnes is in the hands of this dangerous woman.”
Lorenzo now rose to take leave. Elvira gave him her hand at parting, which he kissed respectfully; and, telling her that he soon hoped for the permission to salute that of Antonia, he returned to his hotel. The lady was perfectly satisfied with the conversation which had passed between them: she looked forward with satisfaction to the prospect of his becoming her son-in-law; but prudence bade her conceal from her daughter’s knowledge the flattering hopes which herself now ventured to entertain.
Scarcely was it day, and already Lorenzo was at the convent of St. Clare, furnished with the necessary mandate. The nuns were at matins. He waited impatiently for the conclusion of the service; and at length the prioress appeared at the parlour-grate. Agnes was demanded. The old lady replied with a melancholy air, that the dear child’s situation grew