The Monk (19 page)
The fifth of May arrived, a period by me never to be forgotten! Before the clock struck twelve, I betook myself to the scene of action. Theodore followed me on horseback. I concealed the carriage in a spacious cavern of the hill on whose brow the castle was situated. This cavern was of considerable depth, and, among the peasants, was known by the name of Lindenberg Hole. The night was calm and beautiful: the moon-beams fell upon the ancient towers of the castle, and shed upon their summits a silver light. All was still around me: nothing was to be heard except the night-breeze sighing among the leaves, the distant barking of village dogs, or the owl who had established herself in a nook of the deserted eastern turret. I heard her melancholy shriek, and looked upwards: she sat upon the ridge of a window, which I recognized to be that of the haunted room. This brought to my remembrance the story of the bleeding nun, and I sighed while I reflected on the influence of superstition, and weakness of human reason. Suddenly I heard a faint chorus steal upon the silence of the night.
“What can occasion that noise, Theodore?”
“A stranger of distinction,” replied he, “passed through the village to-day in his way to the castle: he is reported to be the father of Donna Agnes. Doubtless the baron has given an entertainment to celebrate his arrival.”
The castle bell announced the hour of midnight. This was the usual signal for the family to retire to bed. Soon after I perceived lights in the castle, moving backwards and forwards in different directions. I conjectured the company to be separating. I could hear the heavy doors grate as they opened with difficulty; and as they closed again, the rotten casements rattled in their frames. The chamber of Agnes was on the other side of the castle. I trembled lest she should have failed in obtaining the key of the haunted room. Through this it was necessary for her to pass, in order to reach the narrow stair-case by which the ghost was supposed to descend into the great hall. Agitated by this apprehension, I kept my eyes constantly fixed upon the window, where I hoped to perceive the friendly glare of a lamp borne by Agnes. I now heard the massy gates unbarred. By the candle in his hand, I distinguished old Conrad, the porter. He set the portal doors wide open, and retired. The lights in the castle gradually disappeared, and at length the whole building was wrapt in darkness.
While I sat upon a broken ridge of the hill, the stillness of the scene inspired me with melancholy ideas not altogether unpleasing. The castle, which stood full in my sight, formed an object equally awful and picturesque. Its ponderous walls, tinged by the moon with solemn brightness; its old and partly ruined towers, lifting themselves into the clouds, and seeming to frown on the plains around them; its lofty battlements, overgrown with ivy; and folding gates, expanding in honour of the visionary inhabitant, made me sensible of a sad and reverential horror. Yet did not these sensations occupy me so fully as to prevent me from witnessing with impatience the slow progress of time. I approached the castle, and ventured to walk round it. A few rays of light still glimmered in the chamber of Agnes. I observed them with joy. I was still gazing upon them, when I perceived a figure draw near the window, and the curtain was carefully closed to conceal the lamp which burned there. Convinced by this observation that Agnes had not abandoned our plan, I returned with a light heart to my former station.
The half-hour struck! The three-quarters struck! My bosom beat high with hope and expectation. At length, the wished-for sound was heard. The bell tolled “one,” and the mansion echoed with the noise loud and solemn. I looked up to the casement of the haunted chamber. Scarcely had five minutes elapsed when the expected light appeared. I was now close to the tower. The window was not so far from the ground, but that I fancied I perceived a female figure with a lamp in her hand moving slowly along the apartment. The light soon faded away, and all was again dark and gloomy.
Occasional gleams of brightness darted from the stair-case windows as the lovely ghost passed by them. I traced the light through the hall: it reached the portal, and at length I beheld Agnes pass through the folding gates. She was habited exactly as she had described the spectre. A chaplet of beads hung upon her arm; her head was enveloped in a long white veil; her nun’s dress was stained with blood; and she had taken care to provide herself with a lamp and dagger. She advanced towards the spot where I stood. I flew to meet her, and clasped her in my arms.
“Agnes!” said I, while I pressed her to my bosom,
“Agnes! Agnes! thou art mine!
“Agnes! Agnes! I am thine!
“In my veins while blood shall roll,
“Thou art mine!
“I am thine!
“Thine my body! thine my soul!”
Terrified and breathless, she was unable to speak. She dropped her lamp and dagger, and sunk upon my bosom in silence. I raised her in my arms, and conveyed her to the carriage. Theodore remained behind in order to release dame Cunegonda. I also charged him with a letter to the baroness, explaining the whole affair, and entreating her good offices in reconciling Don Gaston to my union with his daughter. I discovered to her my real name. I proved to her that my birth and expectations justified my pretending to her niece; and assured her, though it was out of my power to return her love, that I would strive unceasingly to obtain her esteem and friendship.
I stepped into the carriage, where Agnes was already seated. Theodore closed the door, and the postillions drove away. At first I was delighted with the rapidity of our progress; but as soon as we were in no danger of pursuit, I called to the drivers, and bade them moderate their pace. They strove in vain to obey me; the horses refused to answer the rein, and continued to rush on with astonishing swiftness. The postillions redoubled their efforts to stop them; but, by kicking and plunging, the beasts soon released themselves from this restraint. Uttering a loud shriek, the drivers were hurled upon the ground. Immediately thick clouds obscured the sky: the winds howled around us, the lightning flashed, and the thunder roared tremendously. Never did I behold so frightful a tempest! Terrified by the jar of contending elements, the horses seemed every moment to increase their speed. Nothing could interrupt their career; they dragged the carriage through hedges and ditches, dashed down the most dangerous precipices, and seemed to vie in swiftness with the rapidity of the winds.
All this while my companion lay motionless in my arms. Truly alarmed by the magnitude of the danger, I was in vain attempting to recall her to her senses, when a loud crash announced that a stop was put to our progress in the most disagreeable manner. The carriage was shattered to pieces. In falling, I struck my temple against a flint. The pain of the wound, the violence of the shock, and apprehension for the safety of Agnes, combined to overpower me so completely, that my senses forsook me, and I lay without animation on the ground.
I probably remained for some time in this situation, since, when I opened my eyes, it was broad day-light. Several peasants were standing round me, and seemed disputing whether my recovery was possible. I spoke German tolerably well. As soon as I could utter an articulate sound, I enquired after Agnes. What was my surprise and distress, when assured by the peasants that nobody had been seen answering the description which I gave of her! They told me, that in going to their daily labour they had been alarmed by observing the fragments of my carriage, and by hearing the groans of an horse, the only one of the four which remained alive: the other three lay dead by my side. Nobody was near me when they came up, and much time had been lost before they succeeded in recovering me. Uneasy beyond expression respecting the fate of my companion, I besought the peasants to disperse themselves in search of her. I described her dress, and promised immense rewards to whoever brought me any intelligence. As for myself, it was impossible for me to join in the pursuit: I had broken two of my ribs in the fall, my arm being dislocated hung useless by my side; and my left leg was shattered so terribly, that I never expected to recover its use.
The peasants complied with my request; all left me except four, who made a litter of boughs, and prepared to convey me to the neighbouring town. I enquired its name: it proved to be Ratisbon, and I could scarcely persuade myself that I had travelled to such a distance in a single night. I told the countrymen, that at one o’clock that morning I had passed through the village of Rosenwald. They shook their heads wistfully, and made signs to each other that I must certainly be delirious. I was conveyed to a decent inn, and immediately put to bed. A physician was sent for, who set my arm with success: he then examined my other hurts, and told me that I need be under no apprehension of the consequences of any of them, but ordered me to keep myself quiet, and be prepared for a tedious and painful cure. I answered him, that if he hoped to keep me quiet, he must first endeavour to procure me some news of a lady who had quitted Rosenwald in my company the night before, and had been with me at the moment when the coach broke down. He smiled, and only replied by advising me to make myself easy, for that all proper care should be taken of me. As he quitted me, the hostess met him at the door of the room.
“The gentleman is not quite in his right senses,” I heard him say to her in a low voice; “ ’Tis the natural consequence of his fall, but that will soon be over.”
One after another the peasants returned to the inn, and informed me that no traces had been discovered of my unfortunate mistress. Uneasiness now became despair: I entreated them to renew their search in the most urgent terms, doubling the promises which I had already made them. My wild and frantic manner confirmed the bystanders in the idea of my being delirious. No signs of the lady having appeared, they believed her to be a creature fabricated by my over-heated brain, and paid no attention to my entreaties. However, the hostess assured me, that a fresh enquiry should be made; but I found afterwards that her promise was only given to quiet me. No further steps were taken in the business.
Though my baggage was left at Munich under the care of my French servant, having prepared myself for a long journey, my purse was amply furnished: besides, my equipage proved me to be of distinction, and in consequence all possible attention was paid me at the inn. The day passed away: still no news arrived of Agnes. The anxiety of fear now gave place to despondency. I ceased to rave about her, and was plunged in the depth of melancholy reflections. Perceiving me to be silent and tranquil, my attendants believed my delirium to have abated, and that my malady had taken a favourable turn. According to the physician’s order, I swallowed a composing medicine; and as soon as the night shut in, my attendants withdrew, and left me to repose.
That repose I wooed in vain. The agitation of my bosom chased away sleep. Restless in my mind, in spite of the fatigue of my body, I continued to toss about from side to side, till the clock in a neighbouring steeple struck “one.” As I listened to the mournful hollow sound, and heard it die away in the wind, I felt a sudden chillness spread itself over my body. I shuddered without knowing wherefore; cold dews poured down my forehead, and my hair stood bristling with alarm. Suddenly I heard slow and heavy steps ascending the stair-case. By an involuntary movement I started up in my bed, and drew back the curtain. A single rush-light, which glimmered upon the hearth, shed a faint gleam through the apartment, which was hung with tapestry. The door was thrown open with violence. A figure entered, and drew near my bed with solemn measured steps. With trembling apprehension I examined this midnight visitor. God Almighty! it was the bleeding nun! It was my lost companion! Her face was still veiled, but she no longer held her lamp and dagger. She lifted up her veil slowly. What a sight presented itself to my startled eyes! I beheld before me an animated corse. Her countenance was long and haggard; her cheeks and lips were bloodless; the paleness of death was spread over her features; and her eye-balls, fixed stedfastly upon me, were lustreless and hollow.
I gazed upon the spectre with horror too great to be described. My blood was frozen in my veins. I would have called for aid, but the sound expired ere it could pass my lips. My nerves were bound up in impotence, and I remained in the same attitude inanimate as a statue.
The visionary nun looked upon me for some minutes in silence: there was something petrifying in her regard. At length, in a low sepulchral voice, she pronounced the following words:
“Raymond! Raymond! Thou art mine!
“Raymond! Raymond! I am thine!
“In thy veins while blood shall roll,
“I am thine!
“Thou art mine!
“Mine thy body! Mine thy soul!”——
Breathless with fear, I listened while she repeated my own expressions. The apparition seated herself opposite to me at the foot of the bed, and was silent. Her eyes were fixed earnestly upon mine: they seemed endowed with the property of the rattle-snake’s, for I strove in vain to look off her. My eyes were fascinated, and I had not the power of withdrawing them from the spectre’s.
In this attitude she remained for a whole long hour without speaking or moving; nor was I able to do either. At length the clock struck two. The apparition rose from her seat, and approached the side of the bed. She grasped with her icy fingers my hand, which hung lifeless upon the coverture, and, pressing her cold lips to mine, again repeated,
“Raymond! Raymond! Thou art mine!
“Raymond! Raymond! I am thine!” &c.—
She then dropped my hand, quitted the chamber with slow steps, and the door closed after her. Till that moment the faculties of my body had been all suspended; those of my mind had alone been waking. The charm now ceased to operate; the blood which had been frozen in my veins rushed back to my heart with violence; I uttered a deep groan, and sunk lifeless upon my pillow.