CHAPTER III
Oh! could I worship aught beneath the skies That earth hath seen or fancy could devise, Thine altar, sacred Liberty, should stand, Built by no mercenary vulgar hand, With fragrant turf, and flowers as wild and fair, As ever dressed a bank, or scented summer air. Cowper.
His whole attention bent upon bringing to justice the Assassins of hisSister, Lorenzo little thought how severely his interest was sufferingin another quarter. As was before mentioned, He returned not to Madridtill the evening of that day on which Antonia was buried. Signifying tothe Grand Inquisitor the order of the Cardinal-Duke (a ceremony not tobe neglected, when a Member of the Church was to be arrested publicly)communicating his design to his Uncle and Don Ramirez, and assembling atroop of Attendants sufficiently to prevent opposition, furnished himwith full occupation during the few hours preceding midnight.Consequently, He had no opportunity to enquire about his Mistress, andwas perfectly ignorant both of her death and her Mother's.
The Marquis was by no means out of danger: His delirium was gone, buthad left him so much exhausted that the Physicians declined pronouncingupon the consequences likely to ensue. As for Raymond himself, Hewished for nothing more earnestly than to join Agnes in the grave.Existence was hateful to him: He saw nothing in the world deservinghis attention; and He hoped to hear that Agnes was revenged, andhimself given over in the same moment.
Followed by Raymond's ardent prayers for success, Lorenzo was at theGates of St. Clare a full hour before the time appointed by the MotherSt. Ursula. He was accompanied by his Uncle, by Don Ramirez de Mello,and a party of chosen Archers. Though in considerable numbers theirappearance created no surprize: A great Crowd was already assembledbefore the Convent doors, in order to witness the Procession. It wasnaturally supposed that Lorenzo and his Attendants were conductedthither by the same design. The Duke of Medina being recognised, thePeople drew back, and made way for his party to advance. Lorenzoplaced himself opposite to the great Gate, through which the Pilgrimswere to pass. Convinced that the Prioress could not escape him, Hewaited patiently for her appearance, which She was expected to makeexactly at Midnight.
The Nuns were employed in religious duties established in honour of St.Clare, and to which no Prophane was ever admitted. The Chapel windowswere illuminated. As they stood on the outside, the Auditors heard thefull swell of the organ, accompanied by a chorus of female voices, riseupon the stillness of the night. This died away, and was succeeded by asingle strain of harmony: It was the voice of her who was destined tosustain in the procession the character of St. Clare. For this officethe most beautiful Virgin of Madrid was always selected, and She uponwhom the choice fell esteemed it as the highest of honours. Whilelistening to the Music, whose melody distance only seemed to rendersweeter, the Audience was wrapped up in profound attention. Universalsilence prevailed through the Crowd, and every heart was filled withreverence for religion. Every heart but Lorenzo's. Conscious thatamong those who chaunted the praises of their God so sweetly, therewere some who cloaked with devotion the foulest sins, their hymnsinspired him with detestation at their Hypocrisy. He had long observedwith disapprobation and contempt the superstition which governedMadrid's Inhabitants. His good sense had pointed out to him theartifices of the Monks, and the gross absurdity of their miracles,wonders, and supposititious reliques. He blushed to see his Countrymenthe Dupes of deceptions so ridiculous, and only wished for anopportunity to free them from their monkish fetters. That opportunity,so long desired in vain, was at length presented to him. He resolvednot to let it slip, but to set before the People in glaring colours howenormous were the abuses but too frequently practised in Monasteries,and how unjustly public esteem was bestowed indiscriminately upon allwho wore a religious habit. He longed for the moment destined tounmask the Hypocrites, and convince his Countrymen that a sanctifiedexterior does not always hide a virtuous heart.
The service lasted, till Midnight was announced by the Convent Bell.That sound being heard, the Music ceased: The voices died away softly,and soon after the lights disappeared from the Chapel windows.Lorenzo's heart beat high, when He found the execution of his plan tobe at hand. From the natural superstition of the People He hadprepared himself for some resistance. But He trusted that the MotherSt. Ursula would bring good reasons to justify his proceeding. He hadforce with him to repel the first impulse of the Populace, till hisarguments should be heard: His only fear was lest the Domina,suspecting his design, should have spirited away the Nun on whosedeposition every thing depended. Unless the Mother St. Ursula shouldbe present, He could only accuse the Prioress upon suspicion; and thisreflection gave him some little apprehension for the success of hisenterprize. The tranquillity which seemed to reign through the Conventin some degree re-assured him: Still He expected the moment eagerly,when the presence of his Ally should deprive him of the power ofdoubting.
The Abbey of Capuchins was only separated from the Convent by theGarden and Cemetery. The Monks had been invited to assist at thePilgrimage. They now arrived, marching two by two with lighted Torchesin their hands, and chaunting Hymns in honour of St. Clare. FatherPablos was at their head, the Abbot having excused himself fromattending. The people made way for the holy Train, and the Friarsplaced themselves in ranks on either side of the great Gates. A fewminutes sufficed to arrange the order of the Procession. This beingsettled, the Convent doors were thrown open, and again the femaleChorus sounded in full melody. First appeared a Band of Choristers:As soon as they had passed, the Monks fell in two by two, and followedwith steps slow and measured. Next came the Novices; They bore noTapers, as did the Professed, but moved on with eyes bent downwards,and seemed to be occupied by telling their Beads. To them succeeded ayoung and lovely Girl, who represented St. Lucia: She held a goldenbason in which were two eyes: Her own were covered by a velvetbandage, and She was conducted by another Nun habited as an Angel. Shewas followed by St. Catherine, a palm-branch in one hand, a flamingSword in the other: She was robed in white, and her brow wasornamented with a sparkling Diadem. After her appeared St. Genevieve,surrounded by a number of Imps, who putting themselves into grotesqueattitudes, drawing her by the robe, and sporting round her with anticgestures, endeavoured to distract her attention from the Book, on whichher eyes were constantly fixed. These merry Devils greatly entertainedthe Spectators, who testified their pleasure by repeated bursts ofLaughter. The Prioress had been careful to select a Nun whosedisposition was naturally solemn and saturnine. She had every reasonto be satisfied with her choice: The drolleries of the Imps wereentirely thrown away, and St. Genevieve moved on without discomposing amuscle.
Each of these Saints was separated from the Other by a band ofChoristers, exalting her praise in their Hymns, but declaring her to bevery much inferior to St. Clare, the Convent's avowed Patroness. Thesehaving passed, a long train of Nuns appeared, bearing like theChoristers each a burning Taper. Next came the reliques of St. Clare,inclosed in vases equally precious for their materials and workmanship:But they attracted not Lorenzo's attention. The Nun who bore the heartoccupied him entirely. According to Theodore's description, He doubtednot her being the Mother St. Ursula. She seemed to look round withanxiety. As He stood foremost in the rank by which the processionpast, her eye caught Lorenzo's. A flush of joy overspread her tillthen pallid cheek. She turned to her Companion eagerly.
'We are safe!' He heard her whisper; ''tis her Brother!'
His heart being now at ease, Lorenzo gazed with tranquillity upon theremainder of the show. Now appeared its most brilliant ornament. Itwas a Machine fashioned like a throne, rich with jewels and dazzlingwith light. It rolled onwards upon concealed wheels, and was guided byseveral lovely Children, dressed as Seraphs. The summit was coveredwith silver clouds, upon which reclined the most beautiful form thateyes ever witnessed. It was a Damsel representing St. Clare: Her dresswas of inestimable price, and round her head a wreath of Diamondsformed an artificial glory: But all the
se ornaments yielded to thelustre of her charms. As She advanced, a murmur of delight ran throughthe Crowd. Even Lorenzo confessed secretly, that He never beheld moreperfect beauty, and had not his heart been Antonia's, it must havefallen a sacrifice to this enchanting Girl. As it was, He consideredher only as a fine Statue: She obtained from him no tribute save coldadmiration, and when She had passed him, He thought of her no more.
'Who is She?' asked a By-stander in Lorenzo's hearing.
'One whose beauty you must often have heard celebrated. Her name isVirginia de Villa-Franca: She is a Pensioner of St. Clare's Convent, aRelation of the Prioress, and has been selected with justice as theornament of the Procession.'
The Throne moved onwards. It was followed by the Prioress herself:She marched at the head of the remaining Nuns with a devout andsanctified air, and closed the procession. She moved on slowly: Hereyes were raised to heaven: Her countenance calm and tranquil seemedabstracted from all sublunary things, and no feature betrayed hersecret pride at displaying the pomp and opulence of her Convent. Shepassed along, accompanied by the prayers and benedictions of thePopulace: But how great was the general confusion and surprize, whenDon Ramirez starting forward, challenged her as his Prisoner.
For a moment amazement held the Domina silent and immoveable: But nosooner did She recover herself, than She exclaimed against sacrilegeand impiety, and called the People to rescue a Daughter of the Church.They were eagerly preparing to obey her; when Don Ramirez, protected bythe Archers from their rage, commanded them to forbear, and threatenedthem with the severest vengeance of the Inquisition. At that dreadedword every arm fell, every sword shrunk back into its scabbard. ThePrioress herself turned pale, and trembled. The general silenceconvinced her that She had nothing to hope but from innocence, and Shebesought Don Ramirez in a faultering voice, to inform her of what crimeShe was accused.
'That you shall know in time,' replied He; 'But first I must secure theMother St. Ursula.'
'The Mother St. Ursula?' repeated the Domina faintly.
At this moment casting her eyes round, She saw near her Lorenzo and theDuke, who had followed Don Ramirez.
'Ah! great God!' She cried, clasping her hands together with a franticair; 'I am betrayed!'
'Betrayed?' replied St. Ursula, who now arrived conducted by some ofthe Archers, and followed by the Nun her Companion in the procession:'Not betrayed, but discovered. In me recognise your Accuser: You knownot how well I am instructed in your guilt!--Segnor!' She continued,turning to Don Ramirez; 'I commit myself to your custody. I charge thePrioress of St. Clare with murder, and stake my life for the justice ofmy accusation.'
A general cry of surprize was uttered by the whole Audience, and anexplanation was demanded loudly. The trembling Nuns, terrified at thenoise and universal confusion, had dispersed, and fled different ways.Some regained the Convent; Others sought refuge in the dwellings oftheir Relations; and Many, only sensible of their present danger, andanxious to escape from the tumult, ran through the Streets, andwandered, they knew not whither. The lovely Virginia was one of thefirst to fly: And in order that She might be better seen and heard,the People desired that St. Ursula should harangue them from the vacantThrone. The Nun complied; She ascended the glittering Machine, andthen addressed the surrounding multitude as follows.
'However strange and unseemly may appear my conduct, when considered tobe adopted by a Female and a Nun, necessity will justify it most fully.A secret, an horrible secret weighs heavy upon my soul: No rest can bemine till I have revealed it to the world, and satisfied that innocentblood which calls from the Grave for vengeance. Much have I dared togain this opportunity of lightening my conscience. Had I failed in myattempt to reveal the crime, had the Domina but suspected that themystery was none to me, my ruin was inevitable. Angels who watchunceasingly over those who deserve their favour, have enabled me toescape detection: I am now at liberty to relate a Tale, whosecircumstances will freeze every honest soul with horror. Mine is thetask to rend the veil from Hypocrisy, and show misguided Parents towhat dangers the Woman is exposed, who falls under the sway of amonastic Tyrant.
'Among the Votaries of St. Clare, none was more lovely, none moregentle, than Agnes de Medina. I knew her well; She entrusted to meevery secret of her heart; I was her Friend and Confident, and I lovedher with sincere affection. Nor was I singular in my attachment. Herpiety unfeigned, her willingness to oblige, and her angelicdisposition, rendered her the Darling of all that was estimable in theConvent. The Prioress herself, proud, scrupulous and forbidding, couldnot refuse Agnes that tribute of approbation which She bestowed upon noone else. Every one has some fault: Alas! Agnes had her weakness!She violated the laws of our order, and incurred the inveterate hate ofthe unforgiving Domina. St. Clare's rules are severe: But grownantiquated and neglected, many of late years have either beenforgotten, or changed by universal consent into milder punishments.The penance, adjudged to the crime of Agnes, was most cruel, mostinhuman! The law had been long exploded: Alas! It still existed, andthe revengeful Prioress now determined to revive it.
This law decreed that the Offender should be plunged into a privatedungeon, expressly constituted to hide from the world for ever theVictim of Cruelty and tyrannic superstition. In this dreadful abodeShe was to lead a perpetual solitude, deprived of all society, andbelieved to be dead by those whom affection might have prompted toattempt her rescue. Thus was She to languish out the remainder of herdays, with no other food than bread and water, and no other comfortthan the free indulgence of her tears.'
The indignation created by this account was so violent, as for somemoments to interrupt St. Ursula's narrative. When the disturbanceceased, and silence again prevailed through the Assembly, She continuedher discourse, while at every word the Domina's countenance betrayedher increasing terrors.
'A Council of the twelve elder Nuns was called: I was of the number.The Prioress in exaggerated colours described the offence of Agnes, andscrupled not to propose the revival of this almost forgotten law. Tothe shame of our sex be it spoken, that either so absolute was theDomina's will in the Convent, or so much had disappointment, solitude,and self-denial hardened their hearts and sowered their tempers thatthis barbarous proposal was assented to by nine voices out of thetwelve. I was not one of the nine. Frequent opportunities hadconvinced me of the virtues of Agnes, and I loved and pitied her mostsincerely. The Mothers Bertha and Cornelia joined my party: We madethe strongest opposition possible, and the Superior found herselfcompelled to change her intention. In spite of the majority in herfavour, She feared to break with us openly. She knew that supported bythe Medina family, our forces would be too strong for her to cope with:And She also knew that after being once imprisoned and supposed dead,should Agnes be discovered, her ruin would be inevitable. Shetherefore gave up her design, though which much reluctance. Shedemanded some days to reflect upon a mode of punishment which might beagreeable to the whole Community; and She promised, that as soon as herresolution was fixed, the same Council should be again summoned. Twodays passed away: On the Evening of the Third it was announced that onthe next day Agnes should be examined; and that according to herbehaviour on that occasion, her punishment should be eitherstrengthened or mitigated.
'On the night preceding this examination, I stole to the Cell of Agnesat an hour when I supposed the other Nuns to be buried in sleep. Icomforted her to the best of my power: I bad her take courage, toldher to rely upon the support of her friends, and taught her certainsigns, by which I might instruct her to answer the Domina's questionsby an assent or negative. Conscious that her Enemy would strive toconfuse, embarrass, and daunt her, I feared her being ensnared intosome confession prejudicial to her interests. Being anxious to keep myvisit secret, I stayed with Agnes but a short time. I bad her not lether spirits be cast down; I mingled my tears with those which streameddown her cheek, embraced her fondly, and was on the point of retiring,when I heard the sound of steps approaching the
Cell. I started back.A Curtain which veiled a large Crucifix offered me a retreat, and Ihastened to place myself behind it. The door opened. The Prioressentered, followed by four other Nuns. They advanced towards the bed ofAgnes. The Superior reproached her with her errors in the bitterestterms: She told her that She was a disgrace to the Convent, that Shewas resolved to deliver the world and herself from such a Monster, andcommanded her to drink the contents of a Goblet now presented to her byone of the Nuns. Aware of the fatal properties of the liquor, andtrembling to find herself upon the brink of Eternity, the unhappy Girlstrove to excite the Domina's pity by the most affecting prayers.
She sued for life in terms which might have melted the heart of aFiend: She promised to submit patiently to any punishment, to shame,imprisonment, and torture, might She but be permitted to live! Oh!might She but live another month, or week, or day! Her merciless Enemylistened to her complaints unmoved: She told her that at first Shemeant to have spared her life, and that if She had altered herintention, She had to thank the opposition of her Friends. Shecontinued to insist upon her swallowing the poison: She bad herrecommend herself to the Almighty's mercy, not to hers, and assured herthat in an hour She would be numbered with the Dead. Perceiving thatit was vain to implore this unfeeling Woman, She attempted to springfrom her bed, and call for assistance: She hoped, if She could notescape the fate announced to her, at least to have witnesses of theviolence committed. The Prioress guessed her design. She seized herforcibly by the arm, and pushed her back upon her pillow. At the sametime drawing a dagger, and placing it at the breast of the unfortunateAgnes, She protested that if She uttered a single cry, or hesitated asingle moment to drink the poison, She would pierce her heart thatinstant. Already half-dead with fear, She could make no furtherresistance. The Nun approached with the fatal Goblet. The Dominaobliged her to take it, and swallow the contents. She drank, and thehorrid deed was accomplished. The Nuns then seated themselves roundthe Bed. They answered her groans with reproaches; They interruptedwith sarcasms the prayers in which She recommended her parting soul tomercy: They threatened her with heaven's vengeance and eternalperdition: They bad her despair of pardon, and strowed with yet sharperthorns Death's painful pillow. Such were the sufferings of this youngUnfortunate, till released by fate from the malice of her Tormentors.She expired in horror of the past, in fears for the future; and heragonies were such as must have amply gratified the hate and vengeanceof her Enemies. As soon as her Victim ceased to breathe, the Dominaretired, and was followed by her Accomplices.
'It was now that I ventured from my concealment. I dared not to assistmy unhappy Friend, aware that without preserving her, I should onlyhave brought on myself the same destruction. Shocked and terrifiedbeyond expression at this horrid scene, scarcely had I sufficientstrength to regain my Cell. As I reached the door of that of Agnes, Iventured to look towards the bed, on which lay her lifeless body, onceso lovely and so sweet! I breathed a prayer for her departed Spirit,and vowed to revenge her death by the shame and punishment of herAssassins. With danger and difficulty have I kept my oath. I unwarilydropped some words at the funeral of Agnes, while thrown off my guardby excessive grief, which alarmed the guilty conscience of thePrioress. My every action was observed; My every step was traced. Iwas constantly surrounded by the Superior's spies. It was long beforeI could find the means of conveying to the unhappy Girl's Relations anintimation of my secret. It was given out that Agnes had expiredsuddenly: This account was credited not only by her Friends in Madrid,but even by those within the Convent. The poison had left no marksupon her body: No one suspected the true cause of her death, and itremained unknown to all, save the Assassins and Myself.
'I have no more to say: For what I have already said, I will answerwith my life. I repeat that the Prioress is a Murderess; That She hasdriven from the world, perhaps from heaven, an Unfortunate whoseoffence was light and venial; that She has abused the power intrustedto her hands, and has been a Tyrant, a Barbarian, and an Hypocrite. Ialso accuse the four Nuns, Violante, Camilla, Alix, and Mariana, asbeing her Accomplices, and equally criminal.'
Here St. Ursula ended her narrative. It created horror and surprizethroughout: But when She related the inhuman murder of Agnes, theindignation of the Mob was so audibly testified, that it was scarcelypossible to hear the conclusion. This confusion increased with everymoment: At length a multitude of voices exclaimed that the Prioressshould be given up to their fury. To this Don Ramirez refused toconsent positively. Even Lorenzo bad the People remember that She hadundergone no trial, and advised them to leave her punishment to theInquisition. All representations were fruitless: The disturbance grewstill more violent, and the Populace more exasperated. In vain didRamirez attempt to convey his Prisoner out of the Throng. Wherever Heturned, a band of Rioters barred his passage, and demanded her beingdelivered over to them more loudly than before. Ramirez ordered hisAttendants to cut their way through the multitude: Oppressed bynumbers, it was impossible for them to draw their swords. Hethreatened the Mob with the vengeance of the Inquisition: But in thismoment of popular phrenzy even this dreadful name had lost its effect.Though regret for his Sister made him look upon the Prioress withabhorrence, Lorenzo could not help pitying a Woman in a situation soterrible: But in spite of all his exertions, and those of the Duke, ofDon Ramirez, and the Archers, the People continued to press onwards.They forced a passage through the Guards who protected their destinedVictim, dragged her from her shelter, and proceeded to take upon her amost summary and cruel vengeance. Wild with terror, and scarcelyknowing what She said, the wretched Woman shrieked for a moment'smercy: She protested that She was innocent of the death of Agnes, andcould clear herself from the suspicion beyond the power of doubt. TheRioters heeded nothing but the gratification of their barbarousvengeance. They refused to listen to her: They showed her every sortof insult, loaded her with mud and filth, and called her by the mostopprobrious appellations. They tore her one from another, and each newTormentor was more savage than the former. They stifled with howls andexecrations her shrill cries for mercy; and dragged her through theStreets, spurning her, trampling her, and treating her with everyspecies of cruelty which hate or vindictive fury could invent. Atlength a Flint, aimed by some well-directing hand, struck her full uponthe temple. She sank upon the ground bathed in blood, and in a fewminutes terminated her miserable existence. Yet though She no longerfelt their insults, the Rioters still exercised their impotent rageupon her lifeless body. They beat it, trod upon it, and ill-used it,till it became no more than a mass of flesh, unsightly, shapeless, anddisgusting.
Unable to prevent this shocking event, Lorenzo and his Friends hadbeheld it with the utmost horror: But they were rouzed from theircompelled inactivity, on hearing that the Mob was attacking the Conventof St. Clare. The incensed Populace, confounding the innocent with theguilty, had resolved to sacrifice all the Nuns of that order to theirrage, and not to leave one stone of the building upon another. Alarmedat this intelligence, they hastened to the Convent, resolved to defendit if possible, or at least to rescue the Inhabitants from the fury ofthe Rioters. Most of the Nuns had fled, but a few still remained intheir habitation. Their situation was truly dangerous. However, asthey had taken the precaution of fastening the inner Gates, with thisassistance Lorenzo hoped to repel the Mob, till Don Ramirez shouldreturn to him with a more sufficient force.
Having been conducted by the former disturbance to the distance of someStreets from the Convent, He did not immediately reach it: When Hearrived, the throng surrounding it was so excessive as to prevent hisapproaching the Gates. In the interim, the Populace besieged theBuilding with persevering rage: They battered the walls, threw lightedtorches in at the windows, and swore that by break of day not a Nun ofSt. Clare's order should be left alive. Lorenzo had just succeeded inpiercing his way through the Crowd, when one of the Gates was forcedopen. The Rioters poured into the interior part of the Building, wherethey exercised their v
engeance upon every thing which found itself intheir passage. They broke the furniture into pieces, tore down thepictures, destroyed the reliques, and in their hatred of her Servantforgot all respect to the Saint. Some employed themselves in searchingout the Nuns, Others in pulling down parts of the Convent, and Othersagain in setting fire to the pictures and valuable furniture which itcontained. These Latter produced the most decisive desolation: Indeedthe consequences of their action were more sudden than themselves hadexpected or wished. The Flames rising from the burning piles caughtpart of the Building, which being old and dry, the conflagration spreadwith rapidity from room to room. The Walls were soon shaken by thedevouring element: The Columns gave way: The Roofs came tumbling downupon the Rioters, and crushed many of them beneath their weight.Nothing was to be heard but shrieks and groans; The Convent was wrappedin flames, and the whole presented a scene of devastation and horror.
Lorenzo was shocked at having been the cause, however innocent, of thisfrightful disturbance: He endeavoured to repair his fault byprotecting the helpless Inhabitants of the Convent. He entered it withthe Mob, and exerted himself to repress the prevailing Fury, till thesudden and alarming progress of the flames compelled him to provide forhis own safety. The People now hurried out, as eagerly as they hadbefore thronged in; But their numbers clogging up the doorway, and thefire gaining upon them rapidly, many of them perished ere they had timeto effect their escape. Lorenzo's good fortune directed him to a smalldoor in a farther Aisle of the Chapel. The bolt was already undrawn:He opened the door, and found himself at the foot of St. Clare'sSepulchre.
Here He stopped to breathe. The Duke and some of his Attendants hadfollowed him, and thus were in security for the present. They nowconsulted, what steps they should take to escape from this scene ofdisturbance: But their deliberations were considerably interrupted bythe sight of volumes of fire rising from amidst the Convent's massywalls, by the noise of some heavy Arch tumbling down in ruins, or bythe mingled shrieks of the Nuns and Rioters, either suffocating in thepress, perishing in the flames, or crushed beneath the weight of thefalling Mansion.
Lorenzo enquired, whither the Wicket led? He was answered, to theGarden of the Capuchins, and it was resolved to explore an outlet uponthat side. Accordingly the Duke raised the Latch, and passed into theadjoining Cemetery. The Attendants followed without ceremony.Lorenzo, being the last, was also on the point of quitting theColonnade, when He saw the door of the Sepulchre opened softly.Someone looked out, but on perceiving Strangers uttered a loud shriek,started back again, and flew down the marble Stairs.
'What can this mean?' cried Lorenzo; 'Here is some mystery concealed.Follow me without delay!'
Thus saying, He hastened into the Sepulchre, and pursued the person whocontinued to fly before him. The Duke knew not the cause of hisexclamation, but supposing that He had good reasons for it, he followedhim without hesitation. The Others did the same, and the whole Partysoon arrived at the foot of the Stairs.
The upper door having been left open, the neighbouring flames dartedfrom above a sufficient light to enable Lorenzo's catching a glance ofthe Fugitive running through the long passages and distant Vaults: Butwhen a sudden turn deprived him of this assistance, total darknesssucceeded, and He could only trace the object of his enquiry by thefaint echo of retiring feet. The Pursuers were now compelled toproceed with caution: As well as they could judge, the Fugitive alsoseemed to slacken pace, for they heard the steps follow each other atlonger intervals. They at length were bewildered by the Labyrinth ofpassages, and dispersed in various directions. Carried away by hiseagerness to clear up this mystery, and to penetrate into which He wasimpelled by a movement secret and unaccountable, Lorenzo heeded notthis circumstance till He found himself in total solitude. The noise offootsteps had ceased. All was silent around, and no clue offereditself to guide him to the flying Person. He stopped to reflect on themeans most likely to aid his pursuit. He was persuaded that no commoncause would have induced the Fugitive to seek that dreary place at anhour so unusual: The cry which He had heard, seemed uttered in a voiceof terror, and He was convinced that some mystery was attached to thisevent. After some minutes past in hesitation He continued to proceed,feeling his way along the walls of the passage. He had already pastsome time in this slow progress, when He descried a spark of lightglimmering at a distance. Guided by this observation, and having drawnhis sword, He bent his steps towards the place, whence the beam seemedto be emitted.
It proceeded from the Lamp which flamed before St. Clare's Statue.Before it stood several Females, their white Garments streaming in theblast, as it howled along the vaulted dungeons. Curious to know whathad brought them together in this melancholy spot, Lorenzo drew nearwith precaution. The Strangers seemed earnestly engaged inconversation. They heard not Lorenzo's steps, and He approachedunobserved, till He could hear their voices distinctly.
'I protest,' continued She who was speaking when He arrived, and towhom the rest were listening with great attention; 'I protest, that Isaw them with my own eyes. I flew down the steps; They pursued me, andI escaped falling into their hands with difficulty. Had it not beenfor the Lamp, I should never have found you.'
'And what could bring them hither?' said another in a trembling voice;'Do you think that they were looking for us?'
'God grant that my fears may be false,' rejoined the First; 'But Idoubt they are Murderers! If they discover us, we are lost! As for me,my fate is certain: My affinity to the Prioress will be a sufficientcrime to condemn me; and though till now these Vaults have afforded mea retreat.......'
Here looking up, her eye fell upon Lorenzo, who had continued toapproach softly.
'The Murderers!' She cried--
She started away from the Statue's Pedestal on which She had beenseated, and attempted to escape by flight. Her Companions at the samemoment uttered a terrified scream, while Lorenzo arrested the Fugitiveby the arm. Frightened and desperate She sank upon her knees beforehim.
'Spare me!' She exclaimed; 'For Christ's sake, spare me! I aminnocent, indeed, I am!'
While She spoke, her voice was almost choaked with fear. The beams ofthe Lamp darting full upon her face which was unveiled, Lorenzorecognized the beautiful Virginia de Villa-Franca. He hastened toraise her from the ground, and besought her to take courage. Hepromised to protect her from the Rioters, assured her that her retreatwas still a secret, and that She might depend upon his readiness todefend her to the last drop of his blood. During this conversation,the Nuns had thrown themselves into various attitudes: One knelt, andaddressed herself to heaven; Another hid her face in the lap of herNeighbour; Some listened motionless with fear to the discourse of thesupposed Assassin; while Others embraced the Statue of St. Clare, andimplored her protection with frantic cries. On perceiving theirmistake, they crowded round Lorenzo and heaped benedictions on him bydozens. He found that, on hearing the threats of the Mob, andterrified by the cruelties which from the Convent Towers they had seeninflicted on the Superior, many of the Pensioners and Nuns had takenrefuge in the Sepulchre. Among the former was to be reckoned thelovely Virginia. Nearly related to the Prioress, She had more reasonthan the rest to dread the Rioters, and now besought Lorenzo earnestlynot to abandon her to their rage. Her Companions, most of whom wereWomen of noble family, made the same request, which He readily granted.He promised not to quit them, till He had seen each of them safe in thearms of her Relations: But He advised their deferring to quit theSepulchre for some time longer, when the popular fury should besomewhat calmed, and the arrival of military force have dispersed themultitude.
'Would to God!' cried Virginia, 'That I were already safe in myMother's embraces! How say you, Segnor; Will it be long, ere we mayleave this place? Every moment that I pass here, I pass in torture!'
'I hope, not long,' said He; 'But till you can proceed with security,this Sepulchre will prove an impenetrable asylum. Here you run norisque of a discovery, and I would advise your remaining quiet
for thenext two or three hours.'
'Two or three hours?' exclaimed Sister Helena; 'If I stay another hourin these vaults, I shall expire with fear! Not the wealth of worldsshould bribe me to undergo again what I have suffered since my cominghither. Blessed Virgin! To be in this melancholy place in the middleof night, surrounded by the mouldering bodies of my deceasedCompanions, and expecting every moment to be torn in pieces by theirGhosts who wander about me, and complain, and groan, and wail inaccents that make my blood run cold, ..... Christ Jesus! It isenough to drive me to madness!'
'Excuse me,' replied Lorenzo, 'if I am surprized that while menaced byreal woes you are capable of yielding to imaginary dangers. Theseterrors are puerile and groundless: Combat them, holy Sister; I havepromised to guard you from the Rioters, but against the attacks ofsuperstition you must depend for protection upon yourself. The idea ofGhosts is ridiculous in the extreme; And if you continue to be swayedby ideal terrors ...'
'Ideal?' exclaimed the Nuns with one voice; 'Why we heard it ourselves,Segnor! Every one of us heard it! It was frequently repeated, and itsounded every time more melancholy and deep. You will never persuade methat we could all have been deceived. Not we, indeed; No, no; Had thenoise been merely created by fancy ....'
'Hark! Hark!' interrupted Virginia in a voice of terror; 'God preserveus! There it is again!'
The Nuns clasped their hands together, and sank upon their knees.
Lorenzo looked round him eagerly, and was on the point of yielding tothe fears which already had possessed the Women. Universal silenceprevailed. He examined the Vault, but nothing was to be seen. He nowprepared to address the Nuns, and ridicule their childishapprehensions, when his attention was arrested by a deep and long-drawngroan.
'What was that?' He cried, and started.
'There, Segnor!' said Helena; 'Now you must be convinced! You haveheard the noise yourself! Now judge, whether our terrors areimaginary. Since we have been here, that groaning has been repeatedalmost every five minutes. Doubtless, it proceeds from some Soul inpain, who wishes to be prayed out of purgatory: But none of us heredares ask it the question. As for me, were I to see an Apparition, thefright, I am very certain, would kill me out of hand.'
As She said this, a second groan was heard yet more distinctly. TheNuns crossed themselves, and hastened to repeat their prayers againstevil Spirits. Lorenzo listened attentively. He even thought that Hecould distinguish sounds, as of one speaking in complaint; But distancerendered them inarticulate. The noise seemed to come from the midst ofthe small Vault in which He and the Nuns then were, and which amultitude of passages branching out in various directions, formed intoa sort of Star. Lorenzo's curiosity which was ever awake, made himanxious to solve this mystery. He desired that silence might be kept.The Nuns obeyed him. All was hushed, till the general stillness wasagain disturbed by the groaning, which was repeated several timessuccessively. He perceived it to be most audible, when upon followingthe sound He was conducted close to the shrine of St. Clare:
'The noise comes from hence,' said He; 'Whose is this Statue?'
Helena, to whom He addressed the question, paused for a moment.Suddenly She clapped her hands together.
'Aye!' cried She, 'it must be so. I have discovered the meaning ofthese groans.'
The Nuns crowded round her, and besought her eagerly to explainherself. She gravely replied that for time immemorial the Statue hadbeen famous for performing miracles: From this She inferred that theSaint was concerned at the conflagration of a Convent which Sheprotected, and expressed her grief by audible lamentations. Not havingequal faith in the miraculous Saint, Lorenzo did not think thissolution of the mystery quite so satisfactory, as the Nuns, whosubscribed to it without hesitation. In one point, 'tis true, that Heagreed with Helena.
He suspected that the groans proceeded from the Statue: The more Helistened, the more was He confirmed in this idea. He drew nearer tothe Image, designing to inspect it more closely: But perceiving hisintention, the Nuns besought him for God's sake to desist, since if Hetouched the Statue, his death was inevitable.
'And in what consists the danger?' said He.
'Mother of God! In what?' replied Helena, ever eager to relate amiraculous adventure; 'If you had only heard the hundredth part ofthose marvellous Stories about this Statue which the Domina used torecount! She assured us often and often, that if we only dared to laya finger upon it, we might expect the most fatal consequences. Amongother things She told us that a Robber having entered these Vaults bynight, He observed yonder Ruby, whose value is inestimable. Do you seeit, Segnor? It sparkles upon the third finger of the hand, in whichShe holds a crown of Thorns. This Jewel naturally excited theVillain's cupidity. He resolved to make himself Master of it. Forthis purpose He ascended the Pedestal: He supported himself bygrasping the Saint's right arm, and extended his own towards the Ring.What was his surprize, when He saw the Statue's hand raised in aposture of menace, and heard her lips pronounce his eternal perdition!Penetrated with awe and consternation, He desisted from his attempt,and prepared to quit the Sepulchre. In this He also failed. Flightwas denied him. He found it impossible to disengage the hand, whichrested upon the right arm of the Statue. In vain did He struggle: Heremained fixed to the Image, till the insupportable and fiery anguishwhich darted itself through his veins, compelled his shrieking forassistance.
The Sepulchre was now filled with Spectators. The Villain confessedhis sacrilege, and was only released by the separation of his hand fromhis body. It has remained ever since fastened to the Image. TheRobber turned Hermit, and led ever after an exemplary life: But yetthe Saint's decree was performed, and Tradition says that He continuesto haunt this Sepulchre, and implore St. Clare's pardon with groans andlamentations. Now I think of it, those which we have just heard, mayvery possibly have been uttered by the Ghost of this Sinner: But ofthis I will not be positive. All that I can say is, that since thattime no one has ever dared to touch the Statue: Then do not befoolhardy, good Segnor! For the love of heaven, give up your design,nor expose yourself unnecessarily to certain destruction.'
Not being convinced that his destruction would be so certain as Helenaseemed to think it, Lorenzo persisted in his resolution. The Nunsbesought him to desist in piteous terms, and even pointed out theRobber's hand, which in effect was still visible upon the arm of theStatue. This proof, as they imagined, must convince him. It was veryfar from doing so; and they were greatly scandalized when he declaredhis suspicion that the dried and shrivelled fingers had been placedthere by order of the Prioress. In spite of their prayers and threatsHe approached the Statue. He sprang over the iron Rails which defendedit, and the Saint underwent a thorough examination. The Image at firstappeared to be of Stone, but proved on further inspection to be formedof no more solid materials than coloured Wood. He shook it, andattempted to move it; But it appeared to be of a piece with the Basewhich it stood upon. He examined it over and over: Still no clueguided him to the solution of this mystery, for which the Nuns werebecome equally solicitous, when they saw that He touched the Statuewith impunity. He paused, and listened: The groans were repeated atintervals, and He was convinced of being in the spot nearest to them.He mused upon this singular event, and ran over the Statue withenquiring eyes. Suddenly they rested upon the shrivelled hand. Itstruck him, that so particular an injunction was not given withoutcause, not to touch the arm of the Image. He again ascended thePedestal; He examined the object of his attention, and discovered asmall knob of iron concealed between the Saint's shoulder and what wassupposed to have been the hand of the Robber. This observationdelighted him. He applied his fingers to the knob, and pressed it downforcibly. Immediately a rumbling noise was heard within the Statue, asif a chain tightly stretched was flying back. Startled at the sound thetimid Nuns started away, prepared to hasten from the Vault at the firstappearance of danger. All remaining quiet and still, they againgathered round Lorenzo, and beheld his proceedings with anxious
curiosity.
Finding that nothing followed this discovery, He descended. As He tookhis hand from the Saint, She trembled beneath his touch. This creatednew terrors in the Spectators, who believed the Statue to be animated.Lorenzo's ideas upon the subject were widely different. He easilycomprehended that the noise which He had heard, was occasioned by hishaving loosened a chain which attached the Image to its Pedestal. Heonce more attempted to move it, and succeeded without much exertion.He placed it upon the ground, and then perceived the Pedestal to behollow, and covered at the opening with an heavy iron grate.
This excited such general curiosity that the Sisters forgot both theirreal and imaginary dangers. Lorenzo proceeded to raise the Grate, inwhich the Nuns assisted him to the utmost of their strength. Theattempt was accomplished with little difficulty. A deep abyss nowpresented itself before them, whose thick obscurity the eye strove invain to pierce. The rays of the Lamp were too feeble to be of muchassistance. Nothing was discernible, save a flight of rough unshapensteps which sank into the yawning Gulph and were soon lost in darkness.The groans were heard no more; But All believed them to have ascendedfrom this Cavern. As He bent over it, Lorenzo fancied that Hedistinguished something bright twinkling through the gloom. He gazedattentively upon the spot where it showed itself, and was convincedthat He saw a small spark of light, now visible, now disappearing. Hecommunicated this circumstance to the Nuns: They also perceived thespark; But when He declared his intention to descend into the Cave,they united to oppose his resolution. All their remonstrances could notprevail on him to alter it. None of them had courage enough toaccompany him; neither could He think of depriving them of the Lamp.Alone therefore, and in darkness, He prepared to pursue his design,while the Nuns were contented to offer up prayers for his success andsafety.
The steps were so narrow and uneven, that to descend them was likewalking down the side of a precipice. The obscurity by which He wassurrounded rendered his footing insecure. He was obliged to proceedwith great caution, lest He should miss the steps and fall into theGulph below him. This He was several times on the point of doing.However, He arrived sooner upon solid ground than He had expected: Henow found that the thick darkness and impenetrable mists which reignedthrough the Cavern had deceived him into the belief of its being muchmore profound than it proved upon inspection. He reached the foot ofthe Stairs unhurt: He now stopped, and looked round for the sparkwhich had before caught his attention. He sought it in vain: All wasdark and gloomy. He listened for the groans; But his ear caught nosound, except the distant murmur of the Nuns above, as in low voicesthey repeated their Ave-Marias. He stood irresolute to which side Heshould address his steps. At all events He determined to proceed: Hedid so, but slowly, fearing lest instead of approaching, He should beretiring from the object of his search. The groans seemed to announceone in pain, or at least in sorrow, and He hoped to have the power ofrelieving the Mourner's calamities. A plaintive tone, sounding at nogreat distance, at length reached his hearing; He bent his coursejoyfully towards it. It became more audible as He advanced; and Hesoon beheld again the spark of light, which a low projecting Wall hadhitherto concealed from him.
It proceeded from a small Lamp which was placed upon an heap of stones,and whose faint and melancholy rays served rather to point out, thandispell the horrors of a narrow gloomy dungeon formed in one side ofthe Cavern; It also showed several other recesses of similarconstruction, but whose depth was buried in obscurity. Coldly playedthe light upon the damp walls, whose dew-stained surface gave back afeeble reflection. A thick and pestilential fog clouded the height ofthe vaulted dungeon. As Lorenzo advanced, He felt a piercing chillnessspread itself through his veins. The frequent groans still engaged himto move forwards. He turned towards them, and by the Lamp's glimmeringbeams beheld in a corner of this loathsome abode, a Creature stretchedupon a bed of straw, so wretched, so emaciated, so pale, that Hedoubted to think her Woman. She was half-naked: Her long dishevelledhair fell in disorder over her face, and almost entirely concealed it.One wasted Arm hung listlessly upon a tattered rug which covered herconvulsed and shivering limbs: The Other was wrapped round a smallbundle, and held it closely to her bosom. A large Rosary lay near her:Opposite to her was a Crucifix, on which She bent her sunk eyesfixedly, and by her side stood a Basket and a small Earthen Pitcher.
Lorenzo stopped: He was petrified with horror. He gazed upon themiserable Object with disgust and pity. He trembled at the spectacle;He grew sick at heart: His strength failed him, and his limbs wereunable to support his weight. He was obliged to lean against the lowWall which was near him, unable to go forward, or to address theSufferer. She cast her eyes towards the Staircase: The Wall concealedLorenzo, and She observed him not.
'No one comes!' She at length murmured.
As She spoke, her voice was hollow, and rattled in her throat: Shesighed bitterly.
'No one comes!' She repeated; 'No! They have forgotten me! They willcome no more!'
She paused for a moment: Then continued mournfully.
'Two days! Two long, long days, and yet no food! And yet no hope, nocomfort! Foolish Woman! How can I wish to lengthen a life sowretched! Yet such a death! O! God! To perish by such a death! Tolinger out such ages in torture! Till now, I knew not what it was tohunger! Hark! No. No one comes! They will come no more!'
She was silent. She shivered, and drew the rug over her nakedshoulders.
'I am very cold! I am still unused to the damps of this dungeon!
'Tis strange: But no matter. Colder shall I soon be, and yet not feelit--I shall be cold, cold as Thou art!'
She looked at the bundle which lay upon her breast. She bent over it,and kissed it: Then drew back hastily, and shuddered with disgust.
'It was once so sweet! It would have been so lovely, so like him! Ihave lost it for ever! How a few days have changed it! I should notknow it again myself! Yet it is dear to me! God! how dear! I willforget what it is: I will only remember what it was, and love it aswell, as when it was so sweet! so lovely! so like him! I thought thatI had wept away all my tears, but here is one still lingering.'
She wiped her eyes with a tress of her hair. She put out her hand forthe Pitcher, and reached it with difficulty. She cast into it a lookof hopeless enquiry. She sighed, and replaced it upon the ground.
'Quite a void! Not a drop! Not one drop left to cool my scorched-upburning palate! Now would I give treasures for a draught of water!And they are God's Servants, who make me suffer thus! They thinkthemselves holy, while they torture me like Fiends! They are cruel andunfeeling; And 'tis they who bid me repent; And 'tis they, who threatenme with eternal perdition! Saviour, Saviour! You think not so!'
She again fixed her eyes upon the Crucifix, took her Rosary, and whileShe told her beads, the quick motion of her lips declared her to bepraying with fervency.
While He listened to her melancholy accents, Lorenzo's sensibilitybecame yet more violently affected. The first sight of such misery hadgiven a sensible shock to his feelings: But that being past, He nowadvanced towards the Captive. She heard his steps, and uttering a cryof joy, dropped the Rosary.
'Hark! Hark! Hark!' She cried: 'Some one comes!'
She strove to raise herself, but her strength was unequal to theattempt: She fell back, and as She sank again upon the bed of straw,Lorenzo heard the rattling of heavy chains. He still approached, whilethe Prisoner thus continued.
'Is it you, Camilla? You are come then at last? Oh! it was time! Ithought that you had forsaken me; that I was doomed to perish ofhunger. Give me to drink, Camilla, for pity's sake! I am faint withlong fasting, and grown so weak that I cannot raise myself from theground. Good Camilla, give me to drink, lest I expire before you!'
Fearing that surprize in her enfeebled state might be fatal, Lorenzowas at a loss how to address her.
'It is not Camilla,' said He at length, speaking in a slow and gentlevoice.
'Who is it then
?' replied the Sufferer: 'Alix, perhaps, or Violante.My eyes are grown so dim and feeble that I cannot distinguish yourfeatures. But whichever it is, if your breast is sensible of the leastcompassion, if you are not more cruel than Wolves and Tigers, take pityon my sufferings. You know that I am dying for want of sustenance.This is the third day, since these lips have received nourishment. Doyou bring me food? Or come you only to announce my death, and learnhow long I have yet to exist in agony?'
'You mistake my business,' replied Lorenzo; 'I am no Emissary of thecruel Prioress. I pity your sorrows, and come hither to relieve them.'
'To relieve them?' repeated the Captive; 'Said you, to relieve them?'
At the same time starting from the ground, and supporting herself uponher hands, She gazed upon the Stranger earnestly.
'Great God! It is no illusion! A Man! Speak! Who are you? Whatbrings you hither? Come you to save me, to restore me to liberty, tolife and light? Oh! speak, speak quickly, lest I encourage an hopewhose disappointment will destroy me.'
'Be calm!' replied Lorenzo in a voice soothing and compassionate; 'TheDomina of whose cruelty you complain, has already paid the forfeit ofher offences: You have nothing more to fear from her.
A few minutes will restore you to liberty, and the embraces of yourFriends from whom you have been secluded. You may rely upon myprotection. Give me your hand, and be not fearful. Let me conduct youwhere you may receive those attentions which your feeble staterequires.'
'Oh! Yes! Yes! Yes!' cried the Prisoner with an exulting shriek;'There is a God then, and a just one! Joy! Joy! I shall once morebreath the fresh air, and view the light of the glorious sunbeams! Iwill go with you! Stranger, I will go with you! Oh! Heaven will blessyou for pitying an Unfortunate! But this too must go with me,' Sheadded pointing to the small bundle which She still clasped to herbosom; 'I cannot part with this. I will bear it away: It shallconvince the world how dreadful are the abodes so falsely termedreligious. Good Stranger, lend me your hand to rise: I am faint withwant, and sorrow, and sickness, and my forces have quite forsaken me!So, that is well!'
As Lorenzo stooped to raise her, the beams of the Lamp struck full uponhis face.
'Almighty God!' She exclaimed; 'Is it possible! That look! Thosefeatures! Oh! Yes, it is, it is .....'
She extended her arms to throw them round him; But her enfeebled framewas unable to sustain the emotions which agitated her bosom. Shefainted, and again sank upon the bed of straw.
Lorenzo was surprized at her last exclamation. He thought that He hadbefore heard such accents as her hollow voice had just formed, butwhere He could not remember. He saw that in her dangerous situationimmediate physical aid was absolutely necessary, and He hastened toconvey her from the dungeon. He was at first prevented from doing soby a strong chain fastened round the prisoner's body, and fixing her tothe neighbouring Wall. However, his natural strength being aided byanxiety to relieve the Unfortunate, He soon forced out the Staple towhich one end of the Chain was attached. Then taking the Captive in hisarms, He bent his course towards the Staircase. The rays of the Lampabove, as well as the murmur of female voices, guided his steps. Hegained the Stairs, and in a few minutes after arrived at the iron-grate.
The Nuns during his absence had been terribly tormented by curiosityand apprehension: They were equally surprized and delighted on seeinghim suddenly emerge from the Cave. Every heart was filled withcompassion for the miserable Creature whom He bore in his arms. Whilethe Nuns, and Virginia in particular, employed themselves in strivingto recall her to her senses, Lorenzo related in few words the manner ofhis finding her. He then observed to them that by this time the tumultmust have been quelled, and that He could now conduct them to theirFriends without danger. All were eager to quit the Sepulchre: Stillto prevent all possibility of ill-usage, they besought Lorenzo toventure out first alone, and examine whether the Coast was clear. Withthis request He complied. Helena offered to conduct him to theStaircase, and they were on the point of departing, when a strong lightflashed from several passages upon the adjacent walls. At the sametime Steps were heard of people approaching hastily, and whose numberseemed to be considerable. The Nuns were greatly alarmed at thiscircumstance: They supposed their retreat to be discovered, and theRioters to be advancing in pursuit of them. Hastily quitting thePrisoner who remained insensible, they crowded round Lorenzo, andclaimed his promise to protect them. Virginia alone forgot her owndanger by striving to relieve the sorrows of Another. She supportedthe Sufferer's head upon her knees, bathing her temples withrose-water, chafing her cold hands, and sprinkling her face with tearswhich were drawn from her by compassion. The Strangers approachingnearer, Lorenzo was enabled to dispel the fears of the Suppliants. Hisname, pronounced by a number of voices among which He distinguished theDuke's, pealed along the Vaults, and convinced him that He was theobject of their search. He communicated this intelligence to the Nuns,who received it with rapture. A few moments after confirmed his idea.Don Ramirez, as well as the Duke, appeared, followed by Attendants withTorches. They had been seeking him through the Vaults, in order to lethim know that the Mob was dispersed, and the riot entirely over.Lorenzo recounted briefly his adventure in the Cavern, and explainedhow much the Unknown was in want of medical assistance. He besoughtthe Duke to take charge of her, as well as of the Nuns and Pensioners.
'As for me,' said He, 'Other cares demand my attention. While you withone half of the Archers convey these Ladies to their respective homes,I wish the other half to be left with me. I will examine the Cavernbelow, and pervade the most secret recesses of the Sepulchre. I cannotrest till convinced that yonder wretched Victim was the only oneconfined by Superstition in these vaults.'
The Duke applauded his intention. Don Ramirez offered to assist him inhis enquiry, and his proposal was accepted with gratitude.
The Nuns having made their acknowledgments to Lorenzo, committedthemselves to the care of his Uncle, and were conducted from theSepulchre. Virginia requested that the Unknown might be given to herin charge, and promised to let Lorenzo know whenever She wassufficiently recovered to accept his visits. In truth, She made thispromise more from consideration for herself than for either Lorenzo orthe Captive. She had witnessed his politeness, gentleness, andintrepidity with sensible emotion. She wished earnestly to preservehis acquaintance; and in addition to the sentiments of pity which thePrisoner excited, She hoped that her attention to this Unfortunatewould raise her a degree in the esteem of Lorenzo. She had no occasionto trouble herself upon this head. The kindness already displayed byher and the tender concern which She had shown for the Sufferer hadgained her an exalted place in his good graces. While occupied inalleviating the Captive's sorrows, the nature of her employment adornedher with new charms, and rendered her beauty a thousand times moreinteresting. Lorenzo viewed her with admiration and delight: Heconsidered her as a ministering Angel descended to the aid of afflictedinnocence; nor could his heart have resisted her attractions, had itnot been steeled by the remembrance of Antonia.
The Duke now conveyed the Nuns in safety to the Dwellings of theirrespective Friends. The rescued Prisoner was still insensible and gaveno signs of life, except by occasional groans. She was borne upon asort of litter; Virginia, who was constantly by the side of it, wasapprehensive that exhausted by long abstinence, and shaken by thesudden change from bonds and darkness to liberty and light, her framewould never get the better of the shock. Lorenzo and Don Ramirez stillremained in the Sepulchre. After deliberating upon their proceedings,it was resolved that to prevent losing time, the Archers should bedivided into two Bodies: That with one Don Ramirez should examine thecavern, while Lorenzo with the other might penetrate into the furtherVaults. This being arranged, and his Followers being provided withTorches, Don Ramirez advanced to the Cavern. He had already descendedsome steps when He heard People approaching hastily from the interiorpart of the Sepulchre. This surprized him, and He quitted the Caveprecipitately.
<
br /> 'Do you hear footsteps?' said Lorenzo; 'Let us bend our course towardsthem. 'Tis from this side that they seem to proceed.'
At that moment a loud and piercing shriek induced him to quicken hissteps.
'Help! Help, for God's sake! cried a voice, whose melodious tonepenetrated Lorenzo's heart with terror.
He flew towards the cry with the rapidity of lightning, and wasfollowed by Don Ramirez with equal swiftness.