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THE ABBESS 
 
J. Darling, Printer, Leadenhall Street, London. 
 
THE ABBESS 
 
 A ROMANCE. 
 
 By W. H. IRELAND, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 BRUNO, OR THE SEPULCHRAL SUMMONS; GONDEZ THE MONK; 
 
 RIMUALDO, OR THE CASTLE OF BADAJOS ; 
 
 THE CATHOLIC, &C. &C. 
 
 Let modest matrons at thy mention start. 
 
 And blushing virgins, when they read our annals. 
 
 Skip o'er the guilty page. Shakspeare. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR A. K. NEWMAN AND CO. 
 
 1834. 
 

 PROLOGUE 
 
 . ; HIGH on a rock that rears its rugged steep, 
 '^^ Frowning defiance on the threat'ning deep, 
 ^ 't An hostile band of critics I descry, 
 ^ Who view the stripling author's vessel fly ; 
 Sable their garb, with faces long and dire. 
 While from their eyes flash beams of angry fire. 
 ^' And dares this youth his fragile bark assay ? 
 -^ And can he hope for an auspicious day ?" 
 ^ Vain insolence and pride, man's fatal snare ! 
 ^' He sinks, indeed, who thus can boldly dare. 
 <* One, more terrific than the rest, appears, 
 -, At whose dread sight the band seems aw'd with fears. 
 ^ " Silence !" — the word : they tremble at his nod, 
 <^ As well they may — he is a demi-god ! — 
 M A lord of lords !— -of critics ranking king, 
 •^ And trembling myriads feel his potent sting. 
 Q:i VOL. I. B A gloomy 
 
 1 
 
A gloomy silence reigns, more dreadful far 
 Than bellowing tempests, or the din of war. 
 '' Hear me/' the sallow envious monarch cries; 
 " He feels no pang who in a moment dies. 
 Ev'n Death himself, in all his terrors drest, 
 Becomes most welcome to that languid breast. 
 Where pale disease hath held her aching throne. 
 And anguish followed each succeeding groan. 
 'Twere charity to crush this youth in's prime : 
 No ; he shall live to be the gaze o'th' time. 
 Like monster-race of strange and uncouth form. 
 To be the butt and finger-mark of scorn. 
 Thus shall his days in endless torture glide, 
 TUl from Time's glass its latest sand shall slide." 
 The hero stops, and with conceited smile 
 Receives the plaudits of his vot'ries vile. 
 Meantime, the youth amid the ocean steers. 
 And views th' impending storm o'ercome with fears : 
 The billows rise, the critic's ire prevails. 
 The keen blast rends the unresisting sails. 
 Shivers the mast, and leaves the deck forlorn. 
 The sport of Neptune, and the critic's scorn. 
 To Heav'n the youth his suppliant eye uprears, 
 From which in torrents flow his contrite tears ; 
 
 Vainly 
 
lU 
 
 Vainly his voice and trembling hands imploi 
 The plaint is lost in the deep thunder's roar. 
 The yawning surge rears high its curl-tipp'd waves, 
 And 'midst dun clouds its frothy bosom laves : — 
 A dreadful crash now echoes to the skies; 
 Against a rock the wave-toss'd vessel hies : 
 She splits, and to the bottom sinks the chest; 
 The spurious papers are consign'd to rest. 
 To save a wretched life the youth yet strives. 
 And in the bosom of the ocean dives ; 
 Against his breast the furious surges beat ; 
 In vain he tries the wished-for shores retreat; 
 His languid limbs their wonted aid deny. 
 All hope is fled, and he's prepar'd to die : 
 But God, in whom all virtues are combin'd. 
 Who sees the workings of the human mind. 
 Whose word is justice, and whose will is law. 
 Whose wide creation is without one flaw. 
 That mighty God, who, from his mercy-seat. 
 Can awe the monarch, and his pow'r defeat. 
 Can shed contentment o'er the peasant's cot. 
 And render poverty a happy lot, 
 He saw. He stretch'd his arm the youth to sgve, 
 Oppressed, and sinking to a liquid grave. 
 
 b2^ The 
 
The flowing tide now casts him on the shore ; 
 The waves retreat, the storm is heard no more ; 
 O'erjoy'd he greets the land, and prostrate falls^ 
 Kisses the earth, and on his Maker calls. 
 Sleep, balmy sleep, his senses now entrance ; 
 In fancy's ken, the pleasing visions dance ; 
 He dreams not of Elysium, or that God, 
 Who on Boetia's mountain sways his rod ; 
 Nor of the Heliconian Damsels Nine ; 
 Nor of that stream inspiring thoughts divine ; 
 Nor of that blood-born steed, that horse which sprung^ 
 From fam'd Medusa's gore ; he, who hath flung 
 Those critics, that to mount him dar'd aspire. 
 Without one ray of his poetic fire. 
 His dreams are not disturb'd by fleeting souls. 
 By Suckling playing at a game of bowls ; 
 Nor are his slumbers hush'd by heav'nly gales. 
 By Chaucer's Surry's song, or little Hales ; 
 Nor Spenser, Dryden, nor big-bellied Ben, 
 Nor Shakspear, greatest, most divine of men. 
 Whose heav'n-born genius, like the blazing sun,. 
 lUumin'd ev'ry theme, left nought undone ; 
 He, who before Apollo makes his moans. 
 Who fills Parnassus with his tears and groans. 
 
 Beseeching 
 
Beseeching Jove to hurl his rattling thunders. 
 And scourge th' author of Hibernian blunders ; 
 For, sure, that mortal, so bereft of wit. 
 That dares to criticise our Shakspear's writ. 
 Should pangs of Ixion bear, or Tantalus, 
 Or roll the pond'rous stone of Sisyphus. 
 Such fancies did not soothe the author's brain : 
 He wander'd not amidst the Muses' train. 
 But views a British female bland and fair. 
 Who, smiling, offers him her fost'ring care : 
 *^ Hear me, oh youth," she cries ; " my counsels keep ; 
 Or better hadst thou perish'd in the deep. 
 No longer tread that dang'rous path for fame ; 
 Never again assume another's name : 
 As your works merit, let them stand or fall. 
 Be either pitied or admir'd by all. 
 Critics excepted, they whose envious spleen 
 Would crush the plant, and let it die unseen : 
 Their praise or friendship you can never gain : 
 They are the offspring of th' invet'rate Cain ; 
 Nor would they spare a brother in their ire. 
 For persecution is their lov'd desire. 
 Change, then, your note, quit the dramatic throng, 
 And to Romance attune your early song. 
 b3 
 
VI 
 
 The British fair will shield you from alarm : 
 They will attempt the critic to disarm ; 
 But, should they fail, Britons have souls of dew. 
 Souls that will melt, forgive, and pity you." 
 
THE ABBESS 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright ! 
 Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of Night, 
 Like a rich jewel in an iEthiop's ear ; 
 Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear ! 
 So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, 
 As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. 
 The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, 
 And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. 
 Did my heart love till now ? forswear it, sight ! 
 For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. 
 
 Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 It was the convent of Santa Maria del 
 Nova at Florence, that contained the 
 lovely Maddalena Rosa ; and it was to 
 the churcli of that convent that .the 
 B 4 conte 
 
S THE ABBESS. 
 
 conte Marcello Porta repaired, on the 
 morning of the Annunciation of the 
 blessed Virgin, in order to witness the 
 pomp and grandeur with which it was 
 to be solemnized. There being but few 
 persons yet present, he took his station 
 opposite the grate, that he might at the 
 same time have a more perfect view of 
 the nuns, and be better enabled to hear 
 the melody of their voices, than he 
 would have done in any other part of 
 the edifice. 
 
 "^he grand altar was splendidly illu- 
 minated ; and the numerous relics en- 
 shrined in gold and silver, ornamented 
 with precious stones, which displayed 
 the wealth of the convent, were arranged 
 to create wonder and inspire religious 
 awe in the beholders. 
 
 The most conspicuous figure was that 
 of the Virgin, in massive silver, support- 
 ing on her left arm the Infant Redeemer, 
 
 and> 
 
THE ABBESS. 9 
 
 and, in her right hand, holding a small 
 sphere of gold, said to contain three 
 drops of her precious milk. Her head 
 was encircled with a rich diadem of im- 
 mense value, and her neck decorated 
 with a string of diamonds, from which 
 hung pendent a cross of gold, rendered 
 invaluable as containing a piece of the 
 true Cross. 
 
 The surrounding chapels, dedicated to 
 various saints, presented a magnificent 
 appearance, blazing with innumerable 
 tapers, whose rays beautifully gleamed 
 on wreaths of fancy flowers, formed by 
 the fair hands of the sisterhood. 
 
 The grand works of Cimabue, one 
 of the first Italian painters, though de- 
 prived by time of the brilliancy of their 
 colouring, still showed the excellency 
 and superior genius of that great artist. 
 
 Before the grate was drawn a curtain 
 B 5 of 
 
$0 THE ABBESS. 
 
 of crimson velvet, parted in the middle, 
 on one side of which was curiously em- 
 broidered in gold, the Virgin's flight 
 from Herod's cruelty ; the other dis- 
 playing her glorious Assumption. The 
 grate was of bright iron, curiously 
 wrought in open work, and beautifully 
 ornamented with figures of the twelve 
 Apostles, of polished brass. 
 
 While occupied in the contemplation 
 of these objects, the conte Marcello had 
 not observed the concourse of people who 
 had entered the church, and was asto- 
 nished, on turning, to behold it crowded 
 in every part. Shortly after, the padre 
 Ignazio, who was that day the officiating 
 ecclesiastic, approached the altar, fol- 
 lowed by several monks. A youth in 
 scarlet robes bore a silver cross, being 
 surrounded by many others of his own 
 age and stature, in white vestments, who 
 were perfuming the air with incense. 
 
 The 
 
THE ABBESS. 11 
 
 The curtain was immediately drawn 
 from before the grate, when the conte 
 beheld the lady abbess and the nume- 
 rous sisterhood of the convent A strain 
 of heavenly harmony floated on the air ; 
 not a sigh was heard within the church ; 
 every ear was charmed ; it seemed as if 
 religion's voice sang in plaintive notes 
 the praises of the Almighty. 
 
 The conte yielded to the general 
 charm, and, with eyes bent on the 
 ground, remained buried in a pleasing 
 melancholy, till roused by the bass 
 voices of the monks, when, recollecting 
 himself, he turned towards the grate, 
 anxious to examine the persons of those 
 whose sweet notes had so strongly ope- 
 rated on his senses. 
 
 In the madre Vittoria Bracciano, who 
 
 was seated on a throne elevated above 
 
 the rest of the sisterhood, he beheld a 
 
 woman of beautiful and commanding 
 
 B 6 features. 
 
12 THE ABBESS. 
 
 features. She appeared about thirty, 
 was descended from one of the noblest 
 families in Italy, and, being the youngest 
 of several daughters, her father's interest 
 procured her the station of lady abbess 
 of this convent. She wore indeed a re- 
 ligious habit, but was ill calculated to 
 adorn it, every worldly feeling predo- 
 minating in her heart. Benignity, meek- 
 ness, patience, and charity, such heavenly 
 attributes, were not the inmates of her 
 breast ; no — pride, cruelty, malice, and 
 revenge, such were the passions that 
 reigned triumphant o'er her mind ; while 
 her desires were licentious, and with dif- 
 ficulty bridled, even by the situation 
 she held. 
 
 Such was the character of the madre 
 Bracciano, before whom were seated the 
 nuns, one side being occupied by the 
 novices, while on the other were sta- 
 tioned the boarders of the convent, 
 among whom was Maddalena Rosa, 
 
 daughter 
 
THE ABBESS. 13 
 
 daughter of the duea Bertocci. It was 
 her lovely form that attracted the conte's 
 gaze ; it was her beauty that excited in 
 his bosom a sensation hitherto unknown, 
 pain and pleasure alternately predomi- 
 nating o*er his mind — dread, at behold- 
 ing her the inhabitant of a convent, and 
 joy, that she was no other than one of 
 its hoarders. 
 
 She appeared about eighteen ; her 
 stature rather tall, and perfectly elegant ; 
 her face was of the Grecian outline, and 
 transparently fair, which was rendered 
 more beautiful by the addition of two 
 full dark eyes, whose dazzling lustre, 
 like a tear on Diana's cheek, beamed 
 nought but chastity : her auburn ringlets 
 gently wantoned round her lily neck, yet 
 dared not touch it, fearful of wounding 
 its snowy modesty. But, if nature might 
 be deemed lavish in the exterior forma- 
 tion of Maddalena Rosa, what were 
 those gifts, when put in competition 
 
 with 
 
14r THE ABBESS. 
 
 with the superior endowments of her 
 mind, which was replete with every 
 virtue ! 
 
 The conte's eyes remained ri vetted on 
 her face, when, chancing to catch his 
 glance, she blushed, and instantly bent 
 hers to the ground. He became desirous 
 of knowing her name and family, and, 
 for that purpose, turned to inquire of 
 one of the monks who stood near him; 
 but his eagerness was immediately check- 
 ed, on beholding at his side a tall pallid 
 figure, clad in the monastic habit, whose 
 eyes were directed towards him with 
 particular earnestness. 
 
 There was something in his manner 
 which struck the conte with horror : he 
 again fixed his gaze on Maddalena Rosa, 
 whose regard a second time met his, 
 when confused, she hastily averted her 
 glance. 
 
 At 
 
THE ABBESS. ]^ 
 
 At the conclusion of the mass, the 
 nuns chanted a hymn to the Blessed 
 Virgin, and then, with the lady abbess 
 at their head, slowly withdrew into the 
 convent. On the beautiful Maddalena 
 passing the grate, the conte eagerly 
 traced her steps until she disappeared, 
 when he felt unhappy ; the world and 
 all its pleasures vanished ; it seemed as 
 if he was bereaved of every earthly joy, 
 and for some moments he indulged this 
 melancholy train of ideas, when suddenly 
 the recollection of the monk obtruded 
 on his thoughts. Unwillingly, he turned 
 his head ; again the figure struck his 
 sight, the same penetrating eye being 
 rivetted on his countenance, as if anxious 
 to pierce the inmost recesses of his soul. 
 The friar, rising with slow and measured 
 steps, quitted the church, and passed 
 into the convent by a door that commu- 
 nicated with the cloisters. 
 
 " 'Tis strange !" said the conte, rising. 
 
 -His 
 
16 THE ABBESS. 
 
 " His manner, the sternness of his aspect, 
 too — what could they portend ? Had I 
 before seen him, his extraordinary figure 
 would never have been obliterated from 
 my memory : yet I may resemble a friend 
 he once esteemed, if such a feeling was 
 ever the inmate of his bosom." 
 
 The conte proceeded, musing, to the 
 door of the church; and, gaining the 
 strada, soon arrived at the palace of Mar- 
 cello Porta. 
 
 'Tvvas then the form of Maddalena 
 came fresh to his mind. With what en- 
 thusiastic pleasure did he retrace those 
 lovely features, and picture to his ima- 
 gination, in glowing colours, the virtues 
 which must inhabit such a frame ! — like 
 the sweet bird, whose delicate form and 
 exquisitely-pencilled plumage, delights 
 the eye, but whose plaintive melody fills 
 the soul with rapture. 
 
 The 
 
THE ABBESS. 17 
 
 The cooler voice of reason sometimes 
 intervened, to check this youthful en- 
 thusiasm ; but the conte instantly stifled 
 its dictates, as inimical to his happiness. 
 Thus hurried on, he felt a flame within 
 his breast, but did not dare confess its 
 influence. He determined, therefore, on 
 visiting the church at evening vespers, 
 in the hope of again beholding the lovely 
 Maddalena, and the intervening time 
 was spent in anxious expectation. 
 
 The wished-for moment at length ar- 
 rived, when he hastily repaired to the 
 convent of Santa Maria, where he pro- 
 cured nearly the same situation he had 
 occupied in the morning. In a short 
 time the curtain was again undrawn — 
 eagerly his eyes sought the beloved ob- 
 ject, who appeared more beautiful and 
 interesting than before. 
 
 Again the conte gazed on her with 
 increased transport ; the roseate tinge of 
 
 youth 
 
18 THE ABBESS. 
 
 youth illumed his manly countenance : 
 no longer he denied the tender impulse. 
 Love fired his breast, and he gloried in 
 becoming one of his votaries. Absorbed 
 in pleasing thoughts, he pictured to his 
 imagination scenes of future happiness ; 
 his enthusiastic mind strewed life's path 
 with violets. Foolish youth ! thou didst 
 not observe the glided snake, that, un- 
 perceived, sprang to sting thy budding 
 felicity. 
 
 It was long ere the conte withdrew 
 his regard from the lovely Maddalena; 
 his eye, at length, caught that of the 
 domina: her scrutinizing glance in- 
 stantly struck him ; he fancied that she 
 had read the workings of his soul ; he 
 felt uneasy, and blamed himself for ha- 
 ving so long rivetted his attention on 
 the beautiful boarder. 
 
 He determined to be cautious, and, 
 by his guarded conduct, no more risk 
 
 the 
 
THE ABBESS. 19 
 
 the betraying of his passion. He re- 
 garded the numerous assemblage of per- 
 sons in the church ; but it was the gaze 
 of vacancy. His mind was wholly oc- 
 cupied in the contemplation of a differ- 
 ent object ; involuntarily his eyes wan- 
 dered to the grate — but again met those 
 of the lady abbess, when hastily turning, 
 he beheld at his side the stern-featured 
 monk, who had before excited such 
 strange sensations in his bosom : sin- 
 gular emotions were again pervading the 
 conte's mind ; but he suddenly checked 
 them; having never consciously injured, 
 he had no cause to fear any man. As 
 he bent his eyes upon the father, the 
 faint rays of the declining sun, falling 
 on the opposite wdndow, richly adorned 
 with painted glass, reflected on his sal- 
 low visage a gleam of purple light, that 
 rendered his appearance even more re- 
 pugnant than before. 
 
 A confused train of ideas occupied 
 
 the 
 
20 THE ABBESS. 
 
 the conte's mind, till the conclusion of 
 vespers, when he again beheld the sister- 
 hood depart. He rose to quit the 
 church, but found himself detained, and 
 turning hastily, to his astonishment, 
 found it was the monk that grasped his 
 arm. — " What would you with me, holy 
 father ?" cried the conte. 
 
 " That which I have to impart must 
 be in private," replied the monk, in a 
 hollow tone: "say, therefore, will you 
 meet me?" 
 
 « When, good father?" 
 
 " This night, at twelve," continued 
 the monk. 
 
 " At twelve !" exclaimed the conte ; 
 " and where?" 
 
 " Without the little gate, that opens 
 to the cloisters." 
 
 The conte paused. 
 
 " Wherefore hesitate you, signor ?" 
 The monk's request had so much as- 
 tonished 
 
THE ABBESS. 21 
 
 tonished the conte, that he could not 
 immediately reply. The time and place 
 contributed to heighten his wonder, and 
 he was on the point of giving an abso- 
 lute refusal, when an irresistible impulse 
 urged his acquiescence with the father's 
 demand. — ** Of what nature, father, is 
 the subject that requires such secresy ?" 
 
 " Meet me, signor, and you shall 
 know," replied the monk, looking stern- 
 ly at the conte, as if displeased at his 
 interrogatory ; " but if your timidity," 
 continued the monk, assuming a smile 
 of contempt, " predominates over your 
 curiosity, you must remain in igno- 
 rance." 
 
 The conte, stung to the soul at this 
 supposition, hastily answered — " Beware 
 
 how you " But checking himself, 
 
 replied, after a moment's pause — " I 
 shall meet you, father." 
 
 The monk bowing, slowly retired ; 
 and the conte returned to his palace, 
 
 ruminating 
 
22 THE ABBESS. 
 
 ruminating on the strangeness of the 
 adventure. 
 
 After some time spent in vainly per- 
 plexing his imagination with supposi- 
 tions, which, when maturely considered, 
 bore not the smallest appearance of pro- 
 bability, he determined to wait the 
 event with patience; and the remainder 
 of the evening was spent in study. 
 
 As the clock struck eleven, the conte 
 rose, and was on the point of quitting 
 his palace unarmed, when he stooped, 
 and, after a moment's consideration, 
 deemed such a step highly imprudent; 
 returning, therefore, to his chamber, he 
 concealed a poniard beneath his vest, 
 and taking his sword, left the palace, 
 muffled up in his cloak. 
 
 It was one of those nights, when the 
 moon is visible at intervals only, as the 
 
 dark 
 
THE ABBESS. 23 
 
 dark clouds, driven by the howling wind, 
 continually obscured its pallid light. 
 
 The conte arrived at the convent, and 
 soon gained the door which the monk 
 had mentioned; but no one was there. 
 After w^aiting some minutes, he ad- 
 vanced, and applying his hand, found 
 it was unlocked ; pushing it open, he 
 descended by three steps into the clois- 
 ters — at that moment the abbey-clock 
 tolled twelve. 
 
 The conte, closing the door after him, 
 proceeded up the cloisters ; he thought 
 he heard the sound of footsteps, and 
 stopped; when turning, he perceived 
 the monk, who advanced slowly towards 
 him. — " So, signor, you have kept your 
 appointment," said he, with a slight in- 
 clination of the head. 
 
 " I had no cause, father, to shun a 
 meeting with any man ; though i\\e time, 
 
 place, 
 
24 THE ABBESS. 
 
 place, and singularity of this, nnight 
 have deterred some persons." 
 
 The monk seemed not to notice this 
 remark of the conte ; but, proceeding 
 slowly along the cloisters, motioned 
 him to follow. 
 
 They advanced to the opposite side; 
 and on arriving at a small door, which, 
 from its situation, appeared to commu- 
 nicate with the monastery, the monk 
 stopped, and, having opened it, entered 
 a dark narrow passage, whither he was 
 followed by the conte.—" Here, signor, 
 I must leave you for a few minutes," 
 said the father, as he withdrew the key 
 from without, and carefully relocked the 
 door. 
 
 The conte ironically answered — " Your 
 caution, in thus having secured the door, 
 has insured your finding me on your re- 
 turn." 
 
 The 
 
THE ABBESS. 25 
 
 The monk quitted him, without ut- 
 tering a word, and as he retreated, the 
 returning echo from his footsteps, borne 
 upon the sullen wind, was all that broke 
 the dreary stillness: they grew fainter, 
 and soon died on the ear. 
 
 The dampness of the passage chilled 
 the conte ; he wrapped his cloak round 
 him, and remained for some minutes 
 rivetted to the spot. Something seemed 
 to pass near him; he listened, but all 
 was silent. — '* Should this prove a 
 snare !" thought the conte. He un- 
 sheathed his poniard ; again a sound 
 floated by him, and a faint gleam il- 
 lumed the damp green walls : it was 
 the monk who approached, bearing a 
 lamp. 
 
 *' Now, signor," said he, " you may 
 follow me." 
 
 The conte obeyed the summons, and 
 advanced up the passage, which was 
 long and winding, ultimately terminat- 
 
 voL. I. c ing 
 
26 THE ABBESS. 
 
 ing in a descending staircase. At the 
 bottom was a narrow door, which the 
 father having opened, they entered a 
 spacious vault, and crossing to the oppo- 
 site side, gained a second door, similar 
 to that by which they had entered. This 
 opened into other chambers equally spa- 
 cious, when suddenly the monk stopped, 
 and turning to the conte, thus addressed 
 him : — " Yon passage, signor, leads to 
 the vault which we must enter; there 
 will your curiosity be gratified, and my 
 errand fulfilled ; but you must stand un- 
 covered." 
 
 The conte, without making a reply, 
 took off his bonnet. They then pro- 
 ceeded to the passage, at the entrance 
 of which, within a niche, rested a stone 
 figure of the Virgin. The monk placed 
 the lamp on the ground, and, having 
 bared his left shoulder, knelt before the 
 image, seeming to offer up a prayer ; 
 then loosening the knotted rope that 
 
 girded 
 
THB ABBESS. 27 
 
 girded his loins, struck himself several 
 times with violence. The conte turned 
 from the sight with disgust. The monk, 
 rising, replaced his vestment, and pro- 
 ceeded up the passage ; he then drew 
 from his bosom a key, and, on the door's 
 being thrown open, the conte's sight 
 was overpowered by a strong glare of 
 light issuing from within. 
 
 As soon as he could discern the va- 
 rious surrounding objects, his astonish- 
 ment is not to be described, as he found 
 himself in a small, but magnificent cha- 
 pel, filled with innumerable riches. On 
 the altar, which was decorated with the 
 rehcs he had beheld in the morning, in 
 the grand church, stood the same figure 
 of the Virgin, when he instantly con- 
 jectured that this must be the private 
 chapel, dedicated to our Lady, where all 
 the relics and immense wealth of the 
 convent were deposited. He had heard 
 of the extraordinary beauty of this sanc- 
 c 2 tified 
 
28 THE ABBESS. 
 
 tified spot, and of the few persons, ex- 
 cept those who were inmates of the con- 
 vent, that had ever been permitted to 
 enter it. 
 
 The monk advanced to the altar, and 
 motioned the conte to approach. — 
 " Now, signor," said he, " are you 
 the man your outward appearance be- 
 speaks you ?" 
 
 " What mean you, father?" said the 
 conte. 
 
 " Can you be silent as the grave ?" 
 continued the monk. ** Would torture 
 draw forth a secret entrusted to your 
 charge ?" 
 
 *' So it were not a tale burthen some 
 to my soul, by my hopes of mercy, no 
 rack should make me waver in a reso- 
 lution once solemnly made." 
 
 The monk then took from the altar 
 a small missal, magnificently bound in 
 crimson velvet. — " I will trust you, 
 signor," said he, at the same time pre- 
 senting 
 
THE ABBESS. 29 
 
 sen ting it to him. " Now, swear that 
 you will for ever conceal that which I 
 am going to impart." 
 
 " Hold, father ! ere I will bind my* 
 self by such an oath, I must first inter- 
 rogate." 
 
 The monk fixed his eyes on the 
 conte. 
 
 " Is it murder, or any criminal act ? 
 Is it a tale that would injure the help- 
 less or unfortunate ? Is it " 
 
 " Lose not your time, signor, by thus 
 enumerating a catalogue of deeds, the 
 bare thought of which never tainted 
 our minds." 
 
 " Now, signor, let me, in my turn, 
 interrogate. — Are you susceptible of 
 love ?" 
 
 " Of love !" exclaimed the conte, as- 
 tonished. 
 
 " Ay ; or do you bear the form of 
 youth, without its attendant passions?" 
 c 3 The 
 
30 THE ABBESS. 
 
 The recollection of Maddalena flashed 
 across his mind. — " Perhaps," thought 
 the conte, " the secret appertains to her; 
 and if so, 'twere madness to refuse." 
 
 " Well," continued the monk, ** are 
 you determined ?" 
 
 " I am !" cried the conte hastily, " and 
 solemnly swear——" 
 
 As he pronounced these words, a 
 deep-toned bell struck his ear. 
 
 " By heavens !'* cried the monk, 
 " your scruples have delayed us too 
 long — we must away." 
 
 He hastily took the missal from the 
 conte's hand, and, opening the door by 
 which they had entered the chapel, left 
 it with precipitation, followed by the 
 conte. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
THE ABBESS. 31 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Thou, Julia, thou hast raetamorphos'd me; 
 Made me neglect my studies, lose my time. 
 War with good counsel, set the world at nought ; 
 Marie wit with musing weak ; heart-sick with thought. 
 Two Gentlemen of Verona. 
 
 -But you, oh you. 
 
 So perfect and so peerless, are created 
 
 Of every creature's best. Tempests 
 
 The monk, having carefully locked the 
 door, took up the lamp which he had 
 left burning ; and, having led the conte, 
 without uttering a word, through the 
 same vaults he had before done, they 
 soon gained the cloisters. — " For the 
 present, signor, I must leave you," said 
 the monk ; " but will meet you again, 
 to-morrow night, at this spot." 
 
 " You may depend on my punctu- 
 c 4 ality," 
 
32 THE ABBESS. 
 
 ality," returned the eonte : " but at what 
 hour, good father?" 
 
 " Why, eleven/' answered the monk, 
 after a short pause. 
 
 The conte auitted the cloisters ; and 
 the monk closed the door after him. 
 He proceeded to his palace; and, throw- 
 ing himself on a couch, sought that re- 
 pose which the events of the night 
 prevented his enjoying. The more he 
 sought to develope this mystery, the 
 more his mind became entangled. One 
 dear enchanting thought he wished to 
 cherish — " Oh !" he exclaimed, " should 
 the lovely form that attracted my regard 
 have divined my feelings; should she 
 entertain but pity for me, that tender 
 sentiment may perhaps nurture a warmer 
 passion. 
 
 " The monk must be well acquainted 
 with the convent of Santa Maria. By 
 his habit, I know him to be one of the 
 fathers belonging to the monastery of 
 
 Santa 
 
THE ABBESS. 33 
 
 Santa Croce ; and some chosen brothers 
 of that fraternity are confessors to the 
 sisterhood of Santa Maria. If so, may 
 he not have spoken to the beautiful 
 boarder, during the hours that intervened 
 between mass and vespers ? 'Tis not 
 improbable ; or why should this monk 
 a second time take his station near me 
 in the church ? why fix his eyes on me 
 with such earnestness, if not to pene- 
 trate the workings of my soul ? Ah, I 
 have wronged this man : he may, per- 
 haps, prove my greatest friend. Though 
 his aspect is forbidding, yet may he pos- 
 sess a heart susceptible of tender feel- 
 ings. How cautious we should be, ere 
 we pronounce the face to be the index 
 of the mind!" 
 
 Thus the conte continued to indulge 
 his dearest wishes, adding fuel to the 
 flame that was already kindled in his 
 breast. 
 
 c 5 At 
 
M THE ABBESS. 
 
 At a late hour he arose, and was soon 
 after joined by his friend, the signor 
 Viviani, son of an Italian nobleman. 
 He had been the schoolfellow, and was 
 now the bosom friend of the conte. 
 They were of the same age, but differed 
 widely in their opinions. Viviani was 
 gay and dissipated, yet, in every sense 
 of the word, a man of honour, while 
 Marcello was lively, and fond of rational 
 pleasures. He could not, like his friend, 
 find amusement in scenes of riot and 
 debauchery, which excited in his breast 
 no other sensation save that of disgust. 
 He was endowed by nature with an ex- 
 cellent understanding, which he had 
 cultivated with assiduity. In infancy 
 he lost an amiable mother, and, ere the 
 attainment of his eighteenth year, be- 
 came possessed of the title and estates 
 of the conte Porta, by the decease of 
 his father. 
 
 " My dear friend," exclaimed Viviani, 
 
 as 
 
THE ABBESS. 35 
 
 as he, on entering, presented his hand 
 to the conte, " why were you not with 
 us yesternight ? You know we all ex- 
 pected you at the palace of the mar- 
 chesa. I assure you, I was never so 
 well entertained ; for, by all the saints 
 in Christendom, I really think that I 
 have lost my heart. But it was most 
 cruel of you to be absent : the lovely 
 donna Clara inquired for you. Now 
 tell me, conte, how do you think she 
 looked r 
 
 " Nay, Viviani, I must be indebted 
 to your sprightly wit for a simile." 
 
 " Why then, she looked just as me- 
 lancholy and woe-begone as you do now. 
 But, prithee tell me, what is the matter, 
 don Dismallo ? Has some fair nymph 
 fired thy adamantine breast ? has some 
 distressed virgin sued to thee for pro- 
 tection ? or art thou really indisposed ? 
 for, by heavens ! in that case, I will lay 
 aside all gaiety, and be thy watchful 
 c 6 and 
 
S6 THE ABBESS. 
 
 and attentive nurse ; thou knowest T 
 am calculated for any employment." 
 
 " I thank you, Viviani," said the 
 conte ; " but you have at present no 
 need to undergo that transformation. 
 Something very extraordinary has oc- 
 curred, I confess; and, were you not 
 such a mad-brain, I might be inclined 
 to trust you." 
 
 " Tell me," cried Viviani, interrupt- 
 ing the conte, " is there a woman in 
 the case ? are you inspired with the 
 tender passion ? If so, music must be 
 your food ; and, by the blessed Santa 
 CeciHa, I can this evening feast your 
 soul. But, prithee, keep me not in sus- 
 pense by a tedious preamble : you know 
 I hate prolixity, therefore tell me, have 
 I or not divined the truth ?" 
 
 " Can you be serious ?" answered the 
 conte. 
 
 " Why, yes, upon an occasion," re- 
 turned Viviani. 
 
 " And 
 
THE ABBESS. 37 
 
 " And will you stand my friend, if I 
 should need your assistance ?" 
 
 " Will I ! nay, conte, do you doubt 
 me then?" said Viviani, somewhat pi- 
 qued. 
 
 " I have wounded your feelings by 
 the suggestion, and own my fault. Yes, 
 Viviani, your thoughts are just : I have 
 seen an object my heart approves — I 
 am, indeed, in love !" 
 
 These words were uttered by the 
 conte with great emotion. 
 
 " You have trusted in my honour, 
 and your confidence shall not be abused. 
 No, conte, by my soul, I swear I will 
 assist you, at the hazard of my life." 
 
 The conte's arms were open, and Vi- 
 viani received the friendly embrace. 
 
 " But say, who is this goddess that 
 
 has 
 
38 THE ABBESS. 
 
 has charmed you ? for more than mortal 
 I am sure she must be." 
 
 '* Nay, Viviani, that I know not : her 
 name I am totally unacquainted with; 
 and when I saw her, it was at a dis- 
 tance." 
 
 " AVhat !" exclaimed Viviani, " has 
 all your philosophy availed you so little, 
 that you should bestow your heart with- 
 out a knowledge of either the name or 
 mind of your mistress?" 
 
 " Yes, yes, my friend, it is even so ; 
 but do not, I entreat, attempt to raise 
 unpleasant thoughts within my breast. 
 My philosophy, my reason, all have va- 
 nished before the charm. She must be 
 gentle, innocent, chaste; she must be 
 every thing that is amiable. The span- 
 gled firmament proclaims not more om- 
 niscient greatness, than do her eyes ra- 
 diate the stamp of virtue." 
 
 " But when saw you this angelic crea- 
 ture?" inquired Viviani. 
 
 ** That, for the present, must remain 
 
 a secret. 
 
THE ABBESS. 39 
 
 a secret, which, when I divulge, your 
 breast shall be its depository." 
 
 " I am silent," said Viviani; " but tell 
 me, conte, will you, this evening, ac- 
 company me to the palace of the mar- 
 chese Galetti ? He holds a concert there, 
 and you will be delighted with some en- 
 chanting music. All the first families of 
 the city will be present. Well, conte, 
 what say you ?'* 
 
 " I should be happy to accompany 
 you," said he, " but must to-night forego 
 that pleasure ; I have an engagement." 
 
 " 'Tis unlucky !" returned Viviani : 
 " I had flattered myself that you would 
 have accompanied me thither. Is your 
 engagement then of such consequence ?" 
 
 " Well," said the conte, " if I yield 
 to yOur entreaty, will you suffer me to 
 depairt before eleven ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I promise not to detain you 
 after that hour." 
 
 " You may then depend on me," said 
 the conte. 
 
 " Will 
 
40 THE ABBESS. 
 
 " Will you call for me at my hotel ?" 
 returned Viviani. 
 
 " Yes ; and you shall take part of my 
 carriage." 
 
 " I accept your offer; and for the 
 present must bid you adieu." 
 
 The conte, as soon as Viviani had left 
 him, fell into the same train of ideas that 
 had occupied him on his restless couch. 
 He took up a book — but Maddalena was 
 before his eyes : he began a letter — but 
 ere he had written ten words, threw 
 down the pen, w^eary and discontented. 
 It was the lovely boarder that wholly 
 occupied his thoughts; and, while her 
 beauties came fresh upon his mind, he 
 composed the following stanzas : — 
 
 Oh ! had I but Apollo's golden lyre. 
 Or, glow'd my breast with half his frenzied fire ; 
 Or, had I seen sweet Venus' lovely face. 
 On which resplendent shone each heav'nly grace. 
 As rising from the glorious liquid plain. 
 With nymphs and tritons singing in her train ; 
 
 Or, 
 
THE ABBESS. ^1 
 
 Or, had I gaz'd on that soft golden hair. 
 That wav'd around her neck divinely fair. 
 On which the liquid diamonds trembling stood, 
 ReadjTto mingle with their native flood ; 
 Then could I paint each graceful line 
 That marks my mistress* face divine. 
 
 But since th' omniscient gods ordain'd it so. 
 That man should taste no heav'nly bliss below, 
 I will attempt, in wild untutor'd note. 
 To sing those charms on which my soul doth doat ; 
 Aiid, as I warble forth my native strain, 
 Judge you the pleasure, / must bear the pain. 
 Let your warm fancy first her figure trace. 
 Majestic and adom'd with ev'ry grace, 
 A look that fills the soul with tender fire. 
 Yet checks the very wish it does inspire — 
 Yet, soft ; one sigh may ease my breast. 
 And lull my troubled soul to rest. 
 
 A polished front, white as the mountain snow. 
 And eyebrows, curv'd like chaste Diana's bow. 
 Crowning two lustrous gems more brilliant far 
 Than the clear radiance of the morning star ; 
 A nose of Grecian form ; lips that outvie 
 The nectar's sweetness and carnation's die; 
 Teeth like the ivory her mouth discloses. 
 Or lilies planted 'midst a bed of roses ; 
 
 A well- 
 
42 THE ABBESS. 
 
 A well-tum*d neck as silky swansdown fair ; 
 
 Like Neptune's foam her breast — No more I 
 dare- 
 Love drops the curtain ; and I sigh— 
 The rest is veil'd from mortal eye. 
 
 In the evening, the conte prepared to 
 visit his friend ; and on his arrival at the 
 hotel, found signor Viviani ready to ac- 
 company him. They soon arrived at the 
 Galetti palace, where most of the com- 
 pany were already assembled. Having 
 paid their respects to the noble owners 
 of the mansion, Viviani drew his friend 
 towards the couch where donna Laura 
 was seated. As they approached, her 
 agitation was visible, and her cheeks 
 wore the rose-tinctured hue. The conte 
 and his friend seated themselves at her 
 side. 
 
 " By Heaven !" said Viviani, in a 
 whisper, ** I am astonished that you 
 should so long be insensible to her 
 
 charms ; 
 
THE ABBESS. 48 
 
 charms ; and since you have no serious 
 intentions, I will endeavour myself to 
 gain an interest in her heart." 
 
 The conte wished him success; and 
 after a few minutes' conversation with 
 donna Laura, removed to a seat at some 
 distance from them. 
 
 The signora felt chagrined at the 
 conte's thus deserting her; while Vivi- 
 ani endeavoured to rally her into good 
 humour; and at length, in a gre^t ^nev 
 sure succeeded. 
 
 Donna Laura possessed much beauty, 
 a good understanding, and a proportion- 
 ate share of wit. Accustomed from io- 
 fancy to have her wishes indulged, she 
 could ill brook disappointment. The 
 first time she saw the conte was at the 
 house of a friend: the elegance of his 
 person, and his agreeable and interesting 
 manners, particularly attracted her no- 
 tice. 
 
44 THE ABBESS. 
 
 tice. The frequent opportunities she 
 afterwards had of conversing with him, 
 strengthened her prepossession into an 
 attachment, and the conte's assiduities, 
 in the mean time, induced her to believe 
 that she was not indifferent to him ; in- 
 deed he had never seen a woman more 
 calculated to inspire him with the tender 
 emotions of love, until he beheld the 
 enchanting boarder of Santa Maria. 
 
 The conte, during the evening, amus- 
 ed himself with making observations on 
 the manners of the persons present. One, 
 whose name he was unacquainted with, 
 particularly attracted his notice. As he 
 contemplated his features, he thought 
 he had beheld a face that bore a strong 
 resemblance to that before him. The 
 more he gazed, the more he became 
 satisfied that his conjecture was well 
 founded. It was a countenance expres- 
 sive of every noble and generous senti- 
 ment; while his figure, which was tall, 
 
 possessed 
 
THE ABBESS. 4)5 
 
 possessed that graceful dignity, which 
 never fails to charm the beholder. 
 
 The conte turning, beheld the signor 
 Patelli close to him, of whom he in- 
 quired concerning the stranger that had 
 so much engaged his attention. 
 
 " Is it possible, conte, that you can be 
 a stranger to the duca Bertocci ? 
 
 " I have frequently heard his name 
 mentioned, " replied the conte, " but do 
 not recollect ever before being in his 
 company." 
 
 " If you have no objection, conte, I 
 will make you better acquainted with 
 his character." 
 
 ** I shall esteem myself much obliged, 
 signor, by the communication." 
 
 " The duca," continued Patelli, " who 
 is descended from an illustrious family, 
 is a man of the nicest honour. To great 
 natural strength of mind is added an 
 extensive knowledge of the world, and 
 
 he 
 
46 THE ABBESS. 
 
 he possesses a heart overflowing with 
 benevolence. There is a mingled dig- 
 nity and sweetness in his manners, that 
 endears him to all who are honoured 
 with his friendship. 
 
 " In his youth, he became acquainted 
 with the daughter of the marchese di 
 Carnaro, who added to an exquisitely- 
 beautiful form, an understanding the 
 most refined and delicate. She soon 
 gained the entire possession of his heart : 
 the duca made an offer of his hand and 
 fortune, which were accepted; and he, 
 for some years, enjoyed the purest state 
 of felicity this life can afford. By his 
 charming wife he had two children at a 
 birth, a son and daughter. Would he 
 had had no offspring ! But transitory 
 are all earthly joys ! — his happiness ter- 
 minated in the death of this beloved 
 wife, w^ho expired a few hours after 
 bringing her progeny into the world ! 
 
 " It was long ere the duca recovered 
 from the dreadful shock which this loss 
 
 occasioned ; 
 
THE ABBESS. tf 
 
 occasioned; and his naind is still tinc- 
 tured with a degree of melancholy. At 
 an early age, Maddalena Rosa was placed 
 in the convent of Santa Maria in this 
 city " 
 
 At the mention of that w^ell-known 
 community, the conte's countenance ex- 
 hibited the strongest emotions. 
 
 "Are you indisposed, conte?" said 
 the signor Patelli, eyeing him with at- 
 tention. 
 
 " No ; I am perfectly well, signor : 
 pray proceed." 
 
 . " Some months after this event," con- 
 tinued he, '* the duca quitted Florence, 
 with an intention of visiting the person 
 to whose care he had consigned his male 
 infant : but imagine his feelings, conte, 
 at receiving an express on the road, 
 whereby he learned that his son had ex- 
 pired the preceding day, of a malignant 
 
 fever, 
 
48 THE ABBESS. 
 
 fever, which proved fatal in twenty -four 
 hours after its commencement ! 
 
 " The unhappy duca instantly re- 
 turned to Florence, and yielded himself 
 a prey to despair, which, in a few days, 
 confined him to his chamber. The phy- 
 sicians who attended him entertained 
 little hopes of his recovery, and his life 
 was, for a period, in imminent danger : 
 it was the recollection of his remaining 
 child that alone soothed his anguish, and 
 he at length, though slowly, recovered. 
 
 " Maddalena Rosa's form is lovely, 
 and bears the most perfect resemblance 
 to that of her angelic mother. Being 
 sole heiress to the duca's immense pos- 
 sessions, her hand has been sought by 
 men of the highest rank." 
 
 " And, doubtless, she has selected one 
 from the number, whom she intends to 
 honour!" exclaimed the con te, with agi- 
 tation. 
 
 The description of the duca's daugh- 
 ter 
 
THE ABBESS. 4§ 
 
 ter coincided so well with the lovely 
 boarder that had inflamed his breast, and 
 Maddelena Rosa being likewise an in- 
 mate of the convent of Santa Maria, the 
 conte did not for a moment doubt that 
 she must be the beautiful object, whose 
 name and family he had been so desirous 
 to ascertain. 
 
 " Here, conte, you are mistaken," 
 said signor Patelli, gazing on him with 
 surprise, " as she has hitherto rejected 
 every offer. The marchese Menzini, 
 one of her admirers, on receiving her 
 refusal, yielded himself a prey to me- 
 lancholy, and has ever since secluded 
 himself from society ; insomuch so, that 
 even his dearest friends are not permit, 
 ted to see him. But the violence of his 
 passion is not to be wondered at ; she is 
 indeed the most beautiful creature I 
 ever beheld ! 
 
 " The sweetness of her disposition 
 produces a charming effect on her ex- 
 
 VOL. I. D pressive 
 
50 THE ABBESS. 
 
 pressive features. Indeed, conte, it has? 
 ever been my opinion, that an amiable 
 temper renders even an ordinary coun- 
 tenance pleasing. 
 
 " Though donna Maddalena possesses 
 vivacity, it is mingled with a dignity 
 and frankness, that evince the sunerio- 
 rity of her mind over that of any other 
 woman. She suppresses, in the most 
 daring, all idea of bold familiarity. I 
 could add much more in praise of this 
 charming creature; but I fear, conte, 
 lest your heart should become too much 
 interested in my description." 
 
 " Nay, signor," said the conte, smi- 
 ling; " why should you fear such an 
 event? Can you then believe me so ro- 
 mantic, as to fall in love with a female 
 w4iom I perhaps never saw ?" 
 
 " Even in that case, conte, you would 
 not be singular; and, to convince you 
 of the truth of my assertion, I will re- 
 late an anecdote of a friend of mine, 
 who was invited to the house of an ac- 
 quaintance, 
 
THE ABBESS. 51 
 
 quaintance, where a large company were 
 assembled. The conversation, during 
 the evening, turned on the general 
 character of females. A signor, who 
 was present, used the most bitter invec- 
 tives against the whole sex, declaring 
 them to be deceitful — preferring pleasure 
 to honourable pursuits ; and concluded 
 with pitying every man who was weak 
 enough to subject himself to their capri- 
 cious whims. 
 
 " A lady who was present under- 
 took the defence of her sex, with a great 
 degree of spirit; and concluded with 
 assuring the signor, that there existed, 
 at least, one virtuous woman; and, in 
 the hope of eradicating his unjust opi- 
 nion, she determined, notwithstanding 
 the pain which the recital would cause 
 her, briefly to relate her friend's adven- 
 tures. 
 
 " She then informed him, that signo- 
 
 ra Ottavia was of noble parents, who 
 
 had also two sons, both older than her- 
 
 D 2 self; 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF IIUNO!?? 
 
52 THE ABBESS. 
 
 self; that she was, at an early age, placed 
 in a convent, where it was intended she 
 should pass the remainder of her days. 
 In this sacred abode, whither the signora 
 who related the story was also sent for 
 her education, she first became acquain- 
 ted with Ottavia, and soon possessed so 
 entirely her affection, that she entreated 
 her father would suffer her to reside in 
 the convent until her friend had taken 
 the veil. She was young, and inexpe- 
 rienced in the ways of the world — an 
 honour to her family, and that commu- 
 nity of which she was soon to become a 
 member. In her was blended a pure 
 love of religion, with that becoming dig- 
 nity, the uniform concomitant of un- 
 sullied virtue. As the time approached 
 which was to part them for ever, the 
 signora's grief became so poignant, that 
 she could no longer conceal it. Her 
 friend endeavoured by every argument 
 to reconcile her to their approaching se- 
 paration, when the signora was asto- 
 nished 
 
THE ABBESS. 53 
 
 nished at the happy temperament of her 
 mind, which so well accorded with those 
 vows she was destined to take. 
 
 " A few weeks previous to the time 
 when the signora was to forfeit the 
 pleasing serenity which used to gild her 
 tranquil days in the society of donna 
 Ottavia, she was summoned to the grated 
 parlour, whither she went, accompanied 
 by her friend. She there found her bro- 
 ther, who came with a letter from the 
 signor her father. Finding it necessary 
 to return a written answer, she begged 
 that donna Ottavia would be kind 
 enough to wait at the grate, and quitted 
 the parlour. 
 
 " At the signora's return, she found 
 her brother gazing on the features of her 
 friend with particular earnestness: donna 
 Ottavia's figure was indeed most inte- 
 resting, and every way calculated to ar- 
 rest the attention. 
 
 " The signora," said Patelli, " then 
 
 described her features. Her eyes were 
 
 D 3 black. 
 
54> THE ABBESS. 
 
 black, and possessed a captivating sweet- 
 ness, being crowned with eyebrows nar- 
 row and beautifully arched. Her fore- 
 head was fair and open, over which her 
 dark brown hair fell in natural ringlets. 
 Indeed, conte, her description was that 
 of a second Venus ! The signora's bro- 
 ther, for some time, delayed his depar- 
 ture from the convent ; and, on quitting 
 them, she observed her friend's features 
 alternately vary, and during the re- 
 mainder of the day, she was absent and 
 restless. 
 
 " As they were, a few mornings after, 
 distributing alms to some poor people at 
 the grate, the signora's brother again 
 made his appearance. At sight of him, 
 blushes suffused the fair face of her 
 friend donna Ottavia, and she retired 
 with precipitation. 
 
 " The signora's brother immediately 
 began questioning her minutely concern- 
 ins: her friend. She demanded the mo- 
 tive of his interrogatory ; and the an- 
 swer 
 
THE ABBESS. 55 
 
 swer was, what she had expected, an 
 avowal of his passion for her friend Ot- 
 tavia. 
 
 " It was a justice she ow^ed her bro- 
 ther, and, though painful the truth must 
 prove to him, she determined, for his 
 sake, not to conceal it. The signora in- 
 stantly made him acquainted with her 
 friend's being destined by her parents 
 to take the veil. The intelligence threw 
 him into despair, and he exclaimed bit- 
 terly against the cruelty of the measure. 
 
 " The signora was prevailing on him 
 to moderate his passion, when turning 
 her head, she beheld her friend Ottavia 
 gazing at him with a look of astonish- 
 ment. Recovering herself, she deliver- 
 ed a message from the lady abbess to 
 the signora, who immediately rose to 
 obey the summons. Donna Ottavia 
 was also quitting the parlour; but the 
 signora's brother caught her hand through 
 the grate. The signora heard not what 
 passed between them, for she proceeded 
 D 4 instantly 
 
56 THE ABBESS. 
 
 instantly to the superior's chamber, se- 
 cretly wishing that her brother's entrea- 
 ties might touch her friend, though her 
 own had proved ineffectual. 
 
 " On quitting the lady abbess, the 
 signora returned to the parlour; but her 
 brother was gone, and her friend Otta- 
 via had left the grate. She hurried to 
 her chamber, and found her kneeling at 
 her devotion. 
 
 " As she rose, her features wore their 
 wonted serenity, and they proceeded to 
 the garden, where the signora pleaded 
 her brother's cause, and attempted to 
 prevail on her to accept her parents' 
 mansion as an asylum ; adding, that they 
 would be proud to receive her as their 
 daughter. 
 
 ' Cease your vain endeavours,' said 
 donna Ottavia ; * I have determined to 
 act in unison with my father's will.' 
 
 " In vain the signora argued, that, if 
 parents were unjust, and strove to check 
 their children's happiness, their authority 
 
 was 
 
THE ABBESS. fff 
 
 was no longer valid. Donna Ottavia 
 replied, by telling her, that when her 
 advice coincided with her duty, she 
 would with pleasure listen to her. 
 
 " As the signora, after several con- 
 versations, could not prevail with her to 
 yield to her entreaties, she at length 
 wrote to her brother, advising him to 
 make his passion known to his father, 
 and request of him to solicit donna Otta- 
 via's hand of her parents. Two days 
 after receiving this letter, the signora's 
 brother paid a visit to the convent. His 
 looks sufficiently bespoke the unpleasing 
 intelligence he had to communicate. He 
 informed her that proposals had been 
 made to donna Ottavia's father, which 
 were instantly rejected. The signora's 
 brother then gave her a letter, which 
 he begged she would deliver to her 
 friend. 
 
 " As soon as he had quitted the con- 
 vent, the signora found an opportunity 
 of presenting it to donna Ottavia, who 
 D 5 received 
 
58 THE ABBESS. 
 
 received it with great emotion, and 
 having perused the contents, exclaimed 
 — * No ; amiable as you are, your argu- 
 ments are fallacious ; nor will I yield to 
 them.' 
 
 * Ah!' cried the signora, ' why de- 
 cline my brother's hand and heart? 
 Why consent to be immured for ever? 
 He is handsome, he is amiable, and he 
 loves you.' 
 
 " The tear glittered in Ottavia's eye; 
 she attempted to speak, but could not, 
 and abruptly quitted the signora, who, 
 finding her thus fixed in her resolve, 
 felt the greatest uneasiness on her bro- 
 ther's account. She likewise observed 
 the alteration in the appearance of her 
 friend, who, notwithstanding, was calm, 
 and resigned to her destiny. Ottavia 
 had ever been strict in her religious du- 
 ties ; but she now became more devout 
 than ever. The signora was convinced 
 how much she loved her brother, though 
 
 she 
 
THE ABBESS. 59 
 
 she perceived that her friend was igno- 
 rant of the truth. 
 
 " Shortly after the signora received a 
 letter from her unhappy brother, v^herein 
 he acquainted her, that, despairing of 
 ever gaining Ottavia's consent to a pri- 
 vate union, he had accepted a post in 
 the army, vs^here he hoped to lose that 
 life which was now become a burthen to 
 him. He then requested an interview 
 with his sister ere he left Florence, and 
 entreated that she would prevail on her 
 friend to be present. 
 
 " The signora made known to Ottavia 
 her brother's request, and she, in t e 
 innocence of her heart, yielded to the 
 entreaty. 
 
 " The day arrived wlien the signora 
 was to bid a beloved brother an ever- 
 lasting farewell. The parting was so- 
 lemnly affecting: he took his sister's 
 and her friend's hands — he pressed them 
 to his heart; again he entreated Ottavia 
 to comply with his ardent request. 
 
 d6 *Ohr 
 
60 THE ABBESS. 
 
 * Oh !' cried she, ' do not lessen your- 
 self in my esteem, for I can bear with 
 resignation any ill but the sting of con- 
 science.' 
 
 " He then knelt — he kissed their 
 hands; then suddenly rising, pressed 
 his sister to his palpitating heart, and 
 in an agony of grief, exclaimed — ' Fare- 
 well for ever !' He then cast a look of 
 anguish on Ottavia, and precipitately 
 left the apartment. 
 
 " Shortly after the departure of the 
 signora's unhappy brother, a messenger 
 arrived at the convent, with orders for 
 Ottavia's being conveyed to her father's 
 palace, her two brothers having sudden- 
 ly died of a malignant fever. 
 
 " Ottavia being now the only remain- 
 ing child, her father looked up to her 
 for the support of his house and title. 
 The signora accompanied her to her fa- 
 ther's residence, where she remained for 
 some weeks ; and soon after her return 
 home, her parents received the unwel- 
 come 
 
THE ABBESS. 6l 
 
 come news of her brother's death. The 
 melancholy tidings were augmented by 
 the knowledge of his having willingly 
 sought his fate. 
 
 " Here, conte, the signora paused; 
 the painful recollection claimed the tri- 
 butary tear." 
 
 Signor Patelli then informed the conte, 
 " that his friend, who had attentively 
 listened to the narrative, became highly 
 interested in the fate of the beautiful 
 donna Ottavia; and from that moment 
 (strange as it may appear) felt a violent 
 passion for her. Joy became a stranger 
 to him — sleep fled from his pillow — his 
 mind was restless and unhappy. 
 
 " This unaccountable attachment," 
 continued the signor Patelli, " origi- 
 nated in the signora's glowing descrip- 
 tion of her friend ; she was the only 
 woman, he thought, that could render 
 him happy. 
 
 " I persuaded him to apply to her 
 father, as I was convinced his overtures 
 
 would 
 
^^ THE ABBESS. 
 
 would not be rejected, his family being 
 noble, and his possessions large. He 
 did not hesitate, but immediately fol- 
 lowed my advice; and, as I expected, 
 his proposals were favourably received. 
 
 " My friend seemed to exist only in 
 the company of her who, in description 
 alone, had thus strangely captivated him. 
 This affection daily increased ; and, by 
 his unremitting attentions, he strove to 
 inspire her with sentiments congenial to 
 his own ; but he failed in the attempt — 
 her heart was still fixed on the signora's 
 brother, though she had learnt his death, 
 and strove to conquer the predilection in 
 his favour. 
 
 " She, one day, informed my friend 
 that his assiduities had insured him her 
 everlasting esteem. She told him how 
 much she pitied his passion, for it could 
 never be returned ; and concluded by 
 assuring him, that notwithstanding, if it 
 was his desire, she would obey her fa- 
 ther's commands, and become his wife. 
 
 " My 
 
THE ABBESS. 6S 
 
 " My friend," continued Patelli, " had 
 a soul too generous to purchase his own 
 happiness at the expence of another's 
 misery — too much honour to marry a 
 woman whose affection he did not pos- 
 sess. After such a declaration, therefore, 
 he discontinued his addresses. I ap- 
 plauded his resolution, and repaired with 
 him the same evening to the mansion of 
 her father, who, though mortified at my 
 friend's rejecting his alliance, did not 
 condescend to inquire into the cause of 
 his conduct. 
 
 " Thus, in the bloom of youth, my 
 friend became a prey to sorrow. I forced 
 him into company, and never left him 
 but when indispensable business required 
 my absence. I formed small parties of 
 pleasure — I courted gaiety, the dance, 
 and music; but every effort failed; he 
 partook not of the pleasures that sur- 
 rounded him. His grief was silent, and, 
 canker-like, preyed on his wounded 
 
 heart ; 
 
61 THE ABBESS. 
 
 heart; for, in a few months, I had to 
 mourn his loss." 
 
 The signor Patelli turned his head, 
 and the big tear coursed down his cheek. 
 The conte was much affected ; but per- 
 ceiving that the recollection greatly agi- 
 tated him, changed the subject, by 
 inquiring what became of the unhappy 
 Ottavia. Signor Patelli then informed 
 him, " that her father dying two years 
 after his friend's decease, left her at li- 
 berty to follow the bent of her own in- 
 clination ; when she immediately retired 
 to the convent where she had been edu- 
 cated, and soon after took the veil." 
 
 The conte thanked the signor for the 
 recital, and soon after the duca Bertocci 
 advanced towards them. 
 
 Signor Patelli, rising, introduced the 
 conte, with whose conversation the duca 
 was charmed, while the vivacity and 
 
 grace 
 
THE ABBESS. ffb 
 
 grace with which he delivered his opi- 
 nions on the various topics of their con- 
 versation, completely fascinated him. 
 
 The duca sometimes yielded for a mo- 
 ment to melancholy reflections. His 
 son, he thought, had he lived, might 
 have proved as handsome and as amiable 
 as the conte Marcello. 
 
 Ere he departed, he gave the conte a 
 general invitation to his palace, which 
 was joyfully accepted, both on account 
 of the respect he felt for the duca, and 
 the belief that he was father of the en- 
 chanting boarder of Santa Maria. 
 
 CHAP- 
 
66 THE ABBESS. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 The time presses now, and we cannot use the circum- 
 stances necessary to persuade you ; but whatever ap- 
 pears strange at this time to you, a few days will ren- 
 der most familiar. Sedley. 
 
 Descend, ye Nine, descend and sing ; 
 
 The breathing instrument inspire ; 
 Wake into voice each silent string. 
 
 And sweep the sounding lyre; 
 In a sadly-pleasing strain, 
 
 Let the warbling lute complain. Pope. 
 
 The conte was roused at hearing the 
 clock strike eleven. He took a hasty 
 leave of his friend Viviani, and, quitting 
 the company, immediately proceeded 
 towards the convent of Santa Maria. 
 
 As he gained the great entrance of the 
 church, which he had to pass in his way 
 
 to 
 
THE ABBESS. 67 
 
 to the door by which he entered the 
 cloisters, he was surprised at hearing a 
 shrill whistle issue from behind him. He 
 turned his head, and saw three men 
 come forth from the archway ; they 
 were muffled in their cloaks, and their 
 broad-rimmed bonnets concealed their 
 features. 
 
 The conte continued his pace, and 
 heard their footsteps not far behind him. 
 The spot was dreary, it being a remote 
 and unfrequented part of the city — still 
 they followed, and the conte distin- 
 guished these words : — " It must be 
 him ; I know his person too well to be 
 mistaken." 
 
 He now approached the door through 
 which he was to enter, when they 
 quickened their pace, and soon were 
 close upon him : he turned ; and at that 
 instant, three naked rapiers were opposed 
 against his body. The conte instantly 
 
 drew 
 
68 THE ABBESS. 
 
 drew his sword, and placing his back 
 against the convent-wall, determined at 
 least to sell his life dearly. The over- 
 eagerness of the first villain put him off 
 his guard, and the conte, at one thrust, 
 laid him dead at his feet. At that in- 
 stant, he felt one of the rapiers pierce 
 his left arm, and saw the other directed 
 at his breast : he had sufficient presence 
 of mind to drop on one knee ; and the 
 weapon, which was meant to pierce his 
 body, struck against the wall with 
 such violence, that it instantly snapped 
 short off, leaving nothing but the hilt 
 within the villain's grasp The conte 
 quickly made a thrust; the aggressor 
 staggered, and with a groan fell to the 
 ground. The third, from whom he had 
 received the wound, either through fear, 
 or thinking himself unable to cope with 
 the superior skill of the conte, imme- 
 diately effected his escape. 
 
 The conte proceeded to the door of 
 
 the 
 
THE ABBESS. 69 
 
 the cloisters, which he found open, as 
 he had done on the preceding night. 
 He descended, and closing again the 
 door, seated himself on the same step. 
 The wound which he had received be- 
 came painful, and he felt the blood 
 trickling fast down his arm : he tore 
 open the sleeve of his dress, and bound 
 his handkerchief round the wound : this, 
 in a great measure, prevented the farther 
 effusion of blood. 
 
 The conte now recollected the two 
 villains, who had, ere this time, in all 
 probability, breathed their last. He de- 
 termined on examining their faces, in 
 the hope of discovering who they were, 
 or, if either of them was yet living, to 
 extort from him a confession of the mo- 
 tives that had instigated this bold at- 
 tempt on his life. He quitted the clois- 
 ters, and proceeded to the spot ; but his 
 astonishment is not to be described, on 
 finding that both the bodies had disap- 
 peared. 
 
70 THE ABBESS. 
 
 peared. He was returning to the clois- 
 ters, when the naoon threw her silver 
 light full upon the place where the con- 
 gealed blood was visible. Something 
 glittering attracted the conte's eye : he 
 advanced, and found it to be a diamond 
 cross of most beautiful workmanship. — 
 " This," thought the conte, placing it in 
 his vest, " may one day lead to a deve- 
 lopement of the mystery." 
 
 He returned to the cloisters, where he 
 found the monk, with folded arms, pacing 
 quickly to and fro. — " You are then at 
 length arrived, signor," said he to the 
 conte. " I must tell you that I began to 
 doubt you." 
 
 " Half-an-hour is not elapsed, good 
 father, since I myself believed it impos- 
 sible that we should ever meet again." 
 
 " Indeed ! and is this your boasted 
 firmness, signor?" returned the friar, 
 with an air of disdain. 
 
 " Judge not thus meanly of me, fa- 
 ther ; 
 
THE ABBESS. 71 
 
 ther; neither condemn me hastily," an- 
 swered the conte. " I came at the ap- 
 pointed hour, and was in these cloisters 
 ere you yourself appeared ; but my life 
 has been basely attempted." 
 
 " Your life attempted !" hastily re- 
 peated the friar, while an air of astonish- 
 ment marked his haggard visage. 
 
 The conte then briefly related what 
 had happened ; while the monk, with 
 folded arms and eyes bent to the earth, 
 listened to the recital. He remained in 
 this position for a considerable length of 
 time after the conte had finished speak- 
 ing : the mysterious workings of his 
 soul were visible in his dark counte- 
 nance : at length, raising his head, and 
 darting a look at the conte that petrified 
 him, muttered — " 'Tis most strange !" 
 Then suddenly recollecting himself as 
 from a dream, cried — " Tell me, signor, 
 are you determined to take the oath ?" 
 
 ** I am, father," replied the conte. 
 
 The 
 
72 THE ABBESS. 
 
 The monk led the way through the 
 same vaults he had traversed on the pre- 
 ceding night, and they soon entered the 
 chapel; but it was not illuminated as 
 before ; one large silver lamp, suspended 
 opposite to the image of the Virgin, 
 threw but an imperfect light around. 
 
 The monk ascended the steps of the 
 altar, and presented the same missal to 
 the conte. — " Now, swear," said he, in a 
 sepulchral voice, " that the name of the 
 female whom you shall this night behold, 
 or any circumstance relating to the con- 
 versation that passes between you, shall 
 for ever remain locked in your own 
 breast. Swear that you will neither by 
 writing nor any other method, divulge 
 the secret, though tortures should urge 
 you to betray the mystery. Swear, in 
 the name of the Lord God, his Blessed 
 Son, and the immaculate Virgin, whose 
 sainted image you now behold !" 
 
 The monk paused, and the conte, in 
 
 a firm 
 
THE ABBESS. 73 
 
 a firm tone, replied — " I do swear to 
 keep the secret inviolable ; and when I 
 falter in my resolution, may the wrath 
 of offended Heaven at that moment an- 
 nihilate me ! — Yes, I swear by the Fa- 
 ther Omnipotent, his martyred Son, and 
 the pure Virgin, before whose altar I 
 stand, never to violate my oath, though 
 the rack should lacerate my body, though 
 death in the most appalling shape should 
 threaten me." 
 
 He pressed the missal to his lips, and 
 again returned it into the monk's hands, 
 who muttered forth a Latin prayer, and 
 again replaced it on the altar. 
 
 The conte's heart beat high. — ** Yes," 
 thought he, " it is — it must be the lovely 
 boarder." 
 
 The monk then opened a small door, 
 which was well concealed on one side of 
 the altar, and bad the count follow him. 
 
 VOL. I. E They 
 
74 THE ABBESS. 
 
 They entered a passage ; but it was un- 
 like those which they had passed in their 
 way from the cloisters to the chapel, be- 
 ing illuminated by small lamps placed at 
 equal distances, and the pavement co- 
 vered with a thick matting. 
 
 They soon gained a narrow flight of 
 steps, and ascended the same : here they 
 pushed back a sliding door, which the 
 conte had no sooner passed, than he 
 found himself in a spacious gallery, a 
 large lamp being suspended from the 
 centre, around the same hanging several 
 ancient pictures of saints and scriptural 
 subjects. There were also portraits of 
 nuns as large as life, and amongst them, 
 one that particularly struck the conte's 
 attention. It represented a most beau- 
 tiful woman, clad in monastic vestments: 
 she was kneeling, and supported in her 
 arms a knight arrayed in complete ar- 
 mour ; his helmet lay by him ; from his 
 neck ran a stream of blood ; and a deadly 
 
 paleness 
 
THE ABBESS. 75 
 
 paleness marked his countenance : the 
 nun, with streaming eyes turned towards 
 Heaven, seemed supplicating the Al- 
 mighty's aid ; and on the shield of the 
 knight, which seemed falling from his 
 unnerved arm, were these words : 
 
 Bloody and cruel — yet most brave. 
 By whose dread arm I found a grave ; 
 Yet, in my seat thou'rt not secure. 
 Time, creeping time, works slow and sure. 
 
 Emotions of pity agitated the conte's 
 breast on beholding the female repre- 
 sented in this picture, and the ashy coun- 
 tenance of the knight had something in 
 it that enchained his regard. At length, 
 recollecting his situation, he turned to 
 look for the monk, but he had disap- 
 peared. He proceeded to examine the 
 door by which he had entered the gal- 
 lery, but could not perceive it. The 
 conte applied his hand; but the old 
 brown wainscot was compact, and yielded 
 not in the least to his pressure. 
 
 E 2 « This 
 
76 THE ABBESS. 
 
 ^' This is most extraordinary !'* ex- 
 claimed the conte. 
 
 He then proceeded to the further end 
 of the gallery, where he found a large 
 folding door ; but it was well secured on 
 the other side.—" What can this mean ?" 
 thought he, as he slowly returned along 
 the gallery, and involuntarily stopped 
 before the same picture, which again in- 
 spired him with the most unaccountable 
 sensations. Unconsciously, the tears 
 flowed from his eyes, and fell upon the 
 hand which rested on his bosom, to ease 
 the pain which he felt from the wound 
 in his arm. At that instant, a voice, 
 accompanied by a lute, struck his ear. 
 He listened attentively, and heard these 
 words ; — 
 
 Hail, blessed Mary ! at thy shrine 
 
 My fervent orisons incline : 
 To thee my trembling notes ascend ; 
 To thee my willing knee I bend ; 
 
THE ABBESS. 7T 
 
 To praise thy name I sing. 
 And touch the plaintive string, 
 While chaste desire 
 My lays inspire. 
 My bosom glows with holy fire. 
 
 As the last note died upon the ear, the 
 conte could scarcely believe a human 
 voice capable of uttering such melodious 
 sounds. He for some minutes thought 
 it a delusion ; but reflection soon con- 
 vinced him of his error. He advanced 
 towards the casement, which appeared 
 nearest to the spot whence the tones had 
 issued. His course was arrested ere he 
 gained it, by the same voice, which con- 
 tinued as follows : — 
 
 Methinks I view that pitying eye. 
 In which enthroned sits Chastity ; 
 That meek, that melancholy mien. 
 Beaming a heav'nly smile serene ; 
 Where, line for line, I trace 
 My lov'd Redeemer's face. 
 His look benign. 
 His air divine, 
 Where mingled love and mercy shine. 
 
 e3 He 
 
78 THE ABBESS. 
 
 He remained transfixed to the spot 
 with wondering admiration. He listen- 
 ed, in the hope of hearing a repetition 
 of the strain : but all was silent as the 
 grave. Suddenly, the abbey - clock 
 struck four: amazed at the hour, he 
 again advanced to the casement, which 
 commanded the view of an extensive 
 garden, on which the moon threw a par- 
 tial light. He beheld the dark trees 
 wave graceful in the wind, and the grey 
 mist of night dispersing at the first ap- 
 proach of Aurora's smiling face. 
 
 ** How still, how sublime is this 
 scene!" exclaimed the conte, struck 
 with awful admiration. " How won- 
 derful are thy works, oh Nature ! What 
 soul is there can behold, and not adore 
 thee? Why should dull sleep, at this 
 calm hour, formed only for contem- 
 plation, enfold within its arms so many 
 millions of souls, that might enjoy a bliss 
 unclouded ? Yet surely some there are 
 
 that 
 
THE ABBESS. 79 
 
 that own thy charms, whose minds con- 
 fess thy powerful influence ! Yes, with- 
 in these sacred walls, a spotless being 
 dwells! Oh! it must be so! no form 
 but that which hath subdued my soul 
 could half so sweetly sing !" 
 
 The conte stood musing for some 
 tiine : a sigh floated by him : he turned, 
 but no one was near him. — " Surely," 
 cried he, " I was not deceived." He 
 listened attentively, and soon after heard 
 a noise at the farther end of the gallery. 
 He looked round, and beheld the monk 
 approach. — ^' What means this beha- 
 viour, father?" said the conte, angrily. 
 " Why was I left here in suspense ? 
 You could harbour suspicions of my 
 honour : in what light can I view your 
 conduct ?" 
 
 " Signor," replied the monk, hastily, 
 
 ** throw not your shafts of reproach at 
 
 me ; I am not to blame, nor bound to 
 
 answer for the feults of others. You 
 
 £ 4 cannot 
 
80 THE ABBESS. 
 
 cannot this night see the signora ; a cir- 
 cumstance the most unexpected has pre- 
 vented her fulfilling the engagement 
 which I made on leaving you. I thought 
 you would have been immediately sum- 
 moned hence into her presence; nor 
 have many minutes elapsed since I be- 
 came acquainted with the circumstance 
 which has occasioned the breach of pro- 
 mise. This night you must not come ; 
 but to-morrow, if you will meet me at 
 the same hour as usual, I solemnly 
 pledge my word that you shall not be 
 disappointed." 
 
 " I accept the apology, father, and 
 will not fail." 
 
 The conte would willingly have con- 
 versed longer ; but the forbidding looks 
 of the monk checked his desire. He 
 was then led through the folding door 
 which he had noticed soon after his en- 
 trance into the gallery. Having de- 
 scended a wide staircase, and traversed 
 
 several 
 
THE ABBESS. ^^J 
 
 several passages and spacious chambers 
 which bore an air of desertion, he open- 
 ed a small gate, the upper part of which 
 was latticed, and the conte again found 
 himself in the cloisters. The monk, as 
 on the preceding night, attended him 
 to the door, and bowing his head, closed 
 and locked it after him. 
 
 When the conte gained the spot where 
 he had been attacked the preceding 
 night, he saw^ the blood and the shatter- 
 ed blade of the sword yet lying on the 
 pavement. As he passed, he inwardly 
 returned thanks to Heaven for his pre- 
 servation, and offered a prayer for those 
 whom he had, in all probability, slain in 
 his own defence. On regaining his pa- 
 lace, he found the servants, by whom 
 he was adored, and who, for the most 
 part, had grown old in his father's ser- 
 vice, assembled in the hall, full of ap- 
 prehensions for his personal safety; it 
 being the first time he had ever for a 
 £ 5 whole 
 
82 THE ABBESS. 
 
 whole night absented himself from the 
 palace. As he passed, they could not 
 help testifying their joy in audible 
 terms. He was affected at this proof 
 of their regard, and hastily proceeded 
 to his chamber, followed by his trusty 
 Gerardo, who unable to keep silence, 
 thus began — " Dear maestro, we have 
 all been frightened to death ; each of 
 us, by turns, strove to form some plau- 
 sible excuse for your absence ; but as 
 we knew that you never before slept 
 from the palace, they were too trifling 
 to satisfy our minds. Tomaso then told 
 us a terrible story of a young nobleman 
 at Naples, who one night quitted his 
 palace to visit a friend, and has never 
 since been heard of. This terrified us 
 more than ever; and falling upon our 
 knees, we began to pray for your safety ; 
 and by the Madona de Loretto, we 
 found ourselves more courageous. I 
 then said that I would go forth to seek 
 you. Tomaso joined me; and I verily 
 
 believe 
 
THE ABBESS. t% 
 
 believe we traversed every place, street, 
 and alley in Florence ; nor is it an hour 
 since we returned. But, my dear mae- 
 stro, you look pale ! and your arm ! Oh, 
 St. Jeronimo, what has happened ?" 
 
 " Be not alarmed," said the conte, 
 smiling; ** it is but a slight wound I 
 have received." 
 
 " Oh, my dear lord, but I will fetch 
 the surgeon." 
 
 " There is no occasion, Gerardo." 
 
 " So you say, maestro; but he will 
 be the best judge of that." 
 
 Without waiting for a reply, he flew 
 out of the apartment, and, heedless of 
 the servants' inquiries, who all stood in 
 the hall ready to receive him, he ran 
 like a madman into the street, and was 
 out of sight in a moment. 
 
 At this early hour, for it was scarcely 
 
 five o'clock, neither the surgeon nor any 
 
 of the family was stirring ; but Gerardo, 
 
 E 6 whose 
 
84 THE ABBESS. 
 
 whose impatience on the present occa- 
 sion could ill brook delay, began thun- 
 dering at the portal, with all the vehe- 
 ment strength of which he was master. 
 The surgeon was not the only person 
 that answered the summons : the inha- 
 bitants of some of the adjoining houses 
 felt the effects of his powerful blows; 
 and the windows exhibited a most ludi- 
 crous assortment of affrighted faces of 
 both sexes, who, screaming, inquired 
 the cause of the disturbance. Gerardo, 
 deaf and dumb to every interrogatory, 
 save that of the surgeon, instantly made 
 him acquainted with the necessity there 
 was for his immediate attendance on his 
 dear maestro. 
 
 " I will speedily be with him," said 
 the surgeon, closing the window. 
 
 This answer was not satisfactory 
 enough for Gerardo, who began a se- 
 cond time lustily handling the knocker. 
 
 The 
 
THE ABBESS. 8# 
 
 The surgeon opened the window, and 
 demanded what he would have. 
 
 " You must come immediately, and 
 just as you are,*' returned Gerardo. 
 
 " I cannot," replied the surgeon ; ** I 
 am not yet dressed." 
 , . '" Then will I continue knocking." 
 
 " Hold, hold !" cried the surgeon ; " if 
 your maestro is really so ill, I will go 
 immediately." 
 
 He descended, without farther hesi- 
 tation, his stockings hanging over his 
 ancles, his vest unbuttoned, and his 
 cloak, fastened only at one shoulder, 
 trailing on the ground. Gerardo in- 
 stantly set to his heels ; but the surgeon, 
 who was not, through age, quite so swift 
 of foot, thought a nimble walk would 
 be sufficient : he was, however, mis- 
 taken ; for Gerardo, perceiving his in- 
 tention, returned, and, catching hold of 
 his arm, fairly dragged him to the pa- 
 lace 
 
86 THE ABBESS. 
 
 lace of Marcello Porta. He immedi- 
 ately led the way to his maestro's apart- 
 ment, where the surgeon naturally 
 thought that he should find the conte 
 at the point of death ; but his astonish- 
 ment, on entering, to behold him dress- 
 ed, and sitting at the table, is not to be 
 described. He made an awkward bow, 
 and, turning to Gerardo, who stood at 
 the door, gave him a look more expres- 
 sive than language can paint. The 
 conte with difficulty suppressed his 
 laughter at the singular appearance 
 of the wonder-struck doctor. He rose, 
 and begged that he would be seated. 
 This motion of the conte contributed, if 
 possible, to heighten the astonishment 
 of the practitioner, who, hesitating, beg- 
 ged to know if his presence had not 
 been required? The conte motioned 
 Gerardo to withdraw, which order he 
 obeyed with reluctance, when the conte 
 made the surgeon acquainted with the 
 reason and manner of Gerardo's quit- 
 ting 
 
THE ABBESS. 87 
 
 ting him ; adding, that he was sorry he 
 should have disturbed him at such an 
 early hour. The doctor, in his turn, 
 related what had passed between him 
 and Gerardo, at which the conte could 
 not forbear smiling, but hoped he would 
 impute it to the love he bore his master; 
 not forgetting to tell him at the same 
 time, that his extraordinary trouble on 
 the present occasion should not go un- 
 rewarded. Well satisfied with this con- 
 clusion of the conte's sentence, the sur- 
 geon made a low bow, and returning 
 him many thanks, begged he might be 
 permitted to look at his arm. The 
 handkerchief, with which the conte had 
 bound it, being taken off, he immedi- 
 ately declared that the wound was of 
 little consequence ; and, dressing it, told 
 the conte, that he had a slight fever, 
 usually attendant in such cases, and 
 must remain quiet during the day. He 
 then took his leave, promising to return 
 early in the evening.- 
 
 In 
 
SB THE ABBESS. 
 
 In the course of the day, signor Vi- 
 vian! called on the conte, who was much 
 astonished at the base attempt made 
 upon his life, when the conte produced 
 the diamond cross he had found. They 
 both minutely inspected it, in the hope 
 of finding some name or cypher, which 
 might lead to the developement ; but 
 the search was fruitless. They, by 
 turns, named every person they knew, 
 and examined their different characters, 
 as far as they were enabled, from their 
 knowledge ; but they were all on such 
 terms of friendship with the conte, as to 
 preclude the possibility of attaching 
 guilt to any one. Viviani, smiling, 
 asked the conte, if he had not been en- 
 gaged in an amour — " For, in that case," 
 continued he, " you may have received 
 the wound from some rival, whose name 
 and person you are equally unacquainted 
 with." 
 
 The conte assured him he was in- 
 volved in no such adventure, at least 
 
 none 
 
THE ABBESS. 89 
 
 none that could endanger his safety — 
 " No one is acquainted with the object 
 of my affections : I never yet conversed 
 with, or was in her company ; it is there- 
 fore impossible that any one should form 
 a supposition of her name, or the place 
 of her residence, the secret being vested 
 solely in my own bosom." 
 
 " But may there not be some mis- 
 take ?" said Viviani : " your person per- 
 haps resembles that of the signor whose 
 life the villains sought." 
 
 " It cannot be," returned the conte ; 
 " the sentence I overheard, sufficiently 
 proves that one of them, at least, was 
 acquainted with me. But we will give 
 up the fruitless search, and leave the 
 discovery to time and chance." 
 
 The conte having invited Viviani to 
 spend the day with him, they amused 
 themselves with conversing on various 
 topics, among which donna Laura was 
 not forgotten. Viviani was desirous to 
 
 learn 
 
9d THE ABBESS. 
 
 learn more of his friend's love-afFair ; but 
 the conte assured him, that he could not 
 yet, in the smallest degree, gratify his 
 curiosity. In the evening, the surgeon 
 called, and dressed the conte's wound, 
 which, he said, was in a fair way ; and at 
 a late hour Viviani left the palace. 
 
 The following morning, the conte 
 was occupied in bringing to his me- 
 mory the conversation which had passed 
 between him and signor Patelli, con- 
 cerning the duca di Bertocci, whose cha- 
 racter he admired, but whose extraordi- 
 dinary conduct, in so mysteriously re- 
 placing his daughter in the convent of 
 Santa Maria, after having experienced 
 her filial tenderness, he could by no 
 means account for. Suddenly, an idea 
 struck him, and he exclaimed — " Good 
 heavens ! the duca cannot surely design 
 his child for a monastic life!" The 
 mere suggestion inflicted agony on his 
 mind.—" No! rather than Maddalena 
 
 Rosa 
 
THE ABBESS. Jt 
 
 Rosa shall become a victim against her 
 inclinations, I will hazard life and for- 
 tune to release her! Ah, fool that I 
 am ! I possess no legal power over her, 
 nor dare I dispute her father's will ; yet 
 wherefore do I thus torment myself 
 with these suppositions? Should a life 
 of celibacy be her choice, should she 
 wish to become a sister in the convent 
 of Santa Maria, I sicken at the very 
 idea; my hopes, my happiness, which I 
 have staked, are then lost for ever ! yet 
 there is a beam of comfort ; to-night I 
 am to see and converse with this myste- 
 rious female. Ah, would not Madda- 
 lena herself be thus cautious ? Yes, it 
 must be so ! — delightful thought ! I will 
 hug thee to my breast !" 
 
 Thus did the conte indulge his re- 
 flections, and the tedious hours dragged 
 heavily away : with joy he greeted the 
 sombre veil of night, when, arming him- 
 self, he quitted the palace, and arrived 
 
 in 
 
92 THE ABBESS, 
 
 in safety at the appointed spot. The 
 clock struck eleven as he closed the 
 well-known door, and descended into 
 the cloisters. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
THE ABBESS. 9* 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 ■" But with true prayers, 
 
 That shall be up at heav'n, and enter there 
 Ere sunrise — prayers from preserved souls, 
 From fasting maids, whose minds are delicate 
 To nothing temporal." 
 
 The sisterhood of Santa Maria were 
 very numerous : its wealth had conferred 
 a superiority over all the convents of 
 Florence and its environs. The daugh- 
 ters of most of the nobility were for- 
 warded thither for their education, many 
 of whom became so fascinated with the 
 charms of religion, that they preferred 
 the silence of the cloister to the noisy 
 and tumultuous scenes of life. There 
 is a sacred charm in solitude — there is 
 an indescribable enthusiasm, that cap- 
 tivates the cultivated mind; eagle-pi- 
 nioned. 
 
94 THE ABBESS. 
 
 nioned, the aerial soul ascends the up- 
 per heaven ; there the warmed brain en- 
 genders thoughts divine; and man's cor- 
 poreal substance, like a thick nauseous 
 vapour of deep night, melts before the 
 pure aether of the brain. 'Tis then man 
 pictures to himself the boundless space 
 of eternity ; 'tis then he feels, 'tis then 
 he owns, a power incomprehensible ; 
 swift as the hot bolt of heaven, it strikes 
 his mind ; the radiant sun of pleasure 
 beams on him, as, bowing, he confesses 
 the glorious truth ; o'ercome with joy, 
 in ecstacy he dies, to live again immor- 
 tal. 
 
 On Maddalena's entrance into the 
 convent of Santa Maria, she found a 
 soul congenial with her own ; the gen- 
 tle donna Orsini possessed a spirit dig- 
 nified and virtuous. She had none of 
 that frivolity of character, the common 
 attendant on youth. An innate love of 
 virtue, and a contempt for every thing 
 
 that 
 
THE ABBESS. 95 
 
 that appeared mean, was the basis on 
 which she reared her mind. Those pur- 
 suits which mankind disdain, her genius 
 cultivated with the utmost avidity. Her 
 parents mistook that rigid virtue for 
 pride, and the giddy throng condemned 
 her, because incapable of judging of her 
 worth. She was banished from society, 
 to make room for a younger sister, more 
 calculated to adorn it. 
 
 Without a pang, she quitted that 
 world, for which she felt no other sensa- 
 tion than that of pity. 
 
 It was not till after her second en- 
 trance into the convent, that donna Or- 
 sini took the veil. They soon felt a 
 strong regard for each other. 
 
 Congenial passions souls together bind. 
 And every calling mingles with its kind. 
 
 Their days were spent in cultivating 
 this friendship, and mutually affording 
 
 instruction 
 
9Q THE ABBESS. 
 
 instruction to each other's mind. In 
 the morning, they would together offer 
 up their prayers to Heaven, and after- 
 wards contemplate the glorious scene 
 before them. 
 
 The chamber in which Maddalena 
 Rosa slept was elevated, and on the side 
 of the convent overlooking the sur- 
 rounding country, whence the prospect 
 w^as sublimely beautiful. To the left, 
 arose a chain of hills, interspersed with 
 small villages, verdant meadows, lofty 
 forests, and noble palaces, forming a 
 variegated scene, that displayed at once 
 the population, industry, and riches of 
 the country. To the right, a rich plain 
 presented itself, intersected by the river 
 Arno, that wound its transluscent wa- 
 ters, reflecting the dazzling beams of the 
 sun, resembling a stream of liquid gold, 
 terminating in the azure distance. 
 
 Such was the view that for hours at- 
 tracted 
 
THE ABBESS. 9t 
 
 tracted their regard, and instilled more 
 forcibly into their minds the purest love 
 of nature. How many glorious reflec- 
 tions did not these scenes produce — ideas, 
 that would have graced the sage's 
 tongue, and adorned the lips of grey phi- 
 losophy ! At night, the lovely Madda- 
 lena would chant the hymn of praise, 
 and watch alone the glorious orb of 
 night. How often, at this solemn hour, 
 would she regret the absence of her 
 friend Orsini, whose rigid duty, since 
 she had assumed the veil, obliged her to 
 sleep in a different part of the convent ! 
 
 Those myriads of scintillating stars, 
 on which Maddalena fixed her pensive 
 looks, inspired her with boundless 
 thoughts of Omniscient greatness. The 
 silver moon, that floated in the vast ex- 
 panse of heaven, threw her pallid beams 
 on the dark sheet of water beneath. 
 Sometimes, a vessel would stilly glide 
 along its surface, aided by the gentle 
 
 VOL. I. F breeze, 
 
98 THE ABBESS. 
 
 breeze, that, kissing, swelled its broad 
 white sails. Sometimes the sound of 
 oars would strike upon the ear, and, 
 plunging in the silvery deep, ruffled her 
 glassy bosom. Oft-times would she lis- 
 ten to the peasant's song, as he, with 
 folded arms, proceeded along its margin. 
 The mourning willow waved graceful in 
 the air, which, gently kissing, seemed 
 to partake its sorrows. Unconsciously, 
 the liquid gem would grace Maddalena 
 Rosa's eye, and falling on her ivory 
 neck, resembled a glittering dew-drop 
 on the milk-tinctured lily. 'Twas then, 
 when her soul o'erflowed with ecstacy 
 divine, that her hand caught the lute; 
 'twas then her fingers struck the trem- 
 bling chords, which, in unison with 
 her melodious voice, breathed a strain 
 of sweetest harmony. Such were Mad- 
 dalena Rosa's sensations, at the silent 
 hour of midnight. 
 
 There were many of the nuns and 
 
 boarder* 
 
THE ABBESS. 99^ 
 
 boarders that possessed her esteem ; but 
 the sisterly affection which she felt for 
 the beautiful Orsini, whose titular name 
 in the convent was Marietta, no one 
 shared but herself. Maddalena had stu- 
 died most of their dispositions, but found 
 no other so congenial to her own. The 
 madre Vittoria Bracciano had a forbid- 
 ding stateliness in her deportment, which 
 inspired sensations of fear rather than of 
 esteem. Whenever she appeared among 
 the sisterhood, a silent awe was depicted 
 on every countenance : her will was 
 obeyed through fear, rather than com- 
 plied to with cheerfulness. If she con- 
 versed, it was in a haughty tone, that 
 bespoke her conscious superiority, and 
 the honour which she conferred on her 
 auditors. Such manners could not fail 
 to attract the attention of Maddalena, 
 who wished to examine the mind framed 
 to adopt such conduct. On acquiring 
 the knowledge, she did not find that 
 F 2 aversion 
 
100 THE ABBESS. 
 
 aversion diminish she first entertained 
 for the superior of the convent. 
 
 Sister Beatrice, the chosen friend of 
 her bosom, was despised and hated by 
 the community. She was of a malig- 
 nant disposition ; holding that virtue in 
 seeming contempt, which she had not 
 power to imitate, though inwardly con- 
 fessing its worth. Soon after Madda- 
 lena Rosa's return to the convent, she 
 had, with several others, for some un- 
 known reason, incurred this nun's ha- 
 tred. Not a day passed, but some comn 
 plaints respecting her conduct were pre- 
 ferred before the lady abbess, who never 
 failed inflicting penance for the alleged 
 fault. Sister Beatrice was the only 
 daughter of a family of distinction in 
 Naples ; and though her education had 
 been attended to with the most unre- 
 mitting attention, yet that untoward 
 disposition, which in her infancy betray- 
 ed itself, ripened till she attained years 
 
 of 
 
THE ABBESS. 101 
 
 of maturity. Her hand had been sought 
 by men of distinction, on account of the 
 immense wealth of which she would be 
 possessed at her father's death. She 
 seemingly encouraged their addresses, 
 though predetermined in her own heart 
 never to connect herself with any of 
 them. At length, she became the real 
 slave of that passion, so many had only 
 pretended to feel for her. A young and 
 amiable nobleman of Naples, possessing 
 an elegant person, was the object of her 
 attachment; but his heart was pre-en- 
 gaged to a being equally amiable with 
 himself Ere long, she made her senti- 
 ments known ; when she had the morti- 
 fication to find that another possessed his 
 affections. His parents, dazzled by the 
 splendour of her fortune, would have 
 sacrificed their son's happiness at the 
 shrine of ambition; but he remained 
 firm to his attachment, and resisted all 
 their importunities. She dissembled her 
 resentment, but a rancour corroded her 
 F 3 heart, 
 
102 THE ABBESS. 
 
 heart, and she retired to meditate on 
 some stratagem that might for ever de- 
 stroy his peace, and that of the woman 
 whom he loved. 
 
 Her parents too soon acertained the 
 state of her heart. With pain they saw 
 the strong workings of her passions ; her 
 friends tried to comfort her : she treated 
 them with contempt; she spurned their 
 kindness, which she deemed insolence. 
 Society became odious to her, because 
 she supposed each breast acquainted with 
 her disappointment. For many days 
 she sat alone, brooding on schemes of 
 revenge. Her prolific brain, at last, sug- 
 gested a plan — suddenly she wore the 
 feigned appearance of cheerfulness. Her 
 credulous parents, deceived by this cloak, 
 fondly hoped that she had conquered 
 her passion; her every wish was com- 
 plied v/ith, and she enjoyed unlimit- 
 ed indulgence. Again she mingled 
 with the gay throngs of Naples : her 
 
 former 
 
THE ABBESS. 
 
 m 
 
 former lovers fluttered around her, and 
 she once more beheld a train of suitors 
 
 awaiting on her smiles. 
 
 For some time her parents enjoyed a 
 happiness unclouded. Suddenly, the 
 youth who had rejected her hand was 
 missing; every search was made after 
 him, but without success. A few days 
 after, a stranger arrived at her father's 
 house, who after being closeted with 
 him for some time, departed, and she 
 was instantly summoned into her father's 
 presence, where she remained during 
 the whole of the day. At night, ac- 
 companied only by him, she quitted Na- 
 ples, and, taking a circuitous route, they 
 travelled to Florence, where she was im- 
 mediately conveyed to the convent of 
 Santa Maria. All her entreaties were oif 
 no avail; a large sum of money was 
 given to the convent ; several relics were 
 purchased, at an enormous expence, to 
 adorn the chapel of the Virgin ; and a 
 F 4 rich 
 
104 THE ABBESS. 
 
 rich casket of jewels was presented to 
 the madre Bracciano. Her father quit- 
 ted her, without shedding a tear. She 
 immediately commenced her noviciate; 
 and at the expiration of the limited 
 term, notwithstanding her reluctance, 
 she was compelled to take the veil, 
 which circumstance occurred shortly atfi^ 
 ter Maddalena Rosa's entrance into the 
 convent. 
 
 Such was Beatrice's character — such, 
 was the person that possessed, unrivalled, 
 the domina's esteem. 
 
 In this manner months glided on, till 
 the approach of the grand festival of the 
 Annunciation. The convent w^as then 
 all confusion ; nothing was to be seen 
 but preparations for the solemn occasion. 
 Maddalena's mind partook not in the 
 hurry of this scene ; she beheld it with 
 calm indifference. 
 
 On 
 
THE ABBESS. 105 
 
 On the eve of the sainted day, the 
 lady abbess, attended by all the sister- 
 hood and boarders of the convent, de- 
 scended into the private chapel dedicated 
 to the Virgin. Having read prayers, 
 she gave into the hands of the younger 
 nuns of the convent, the various relics 
 there deposited. The sacred image of the 
 Virgin was placed on a small pedestal, 
 which was borne by the oldest sisters of 
 the convent, who ascended to the church 
 in the following order: — first, the no- 
 vices, clad in loose white vestments, pen- 
 dent to the ground, slowly proceeded, 
 chanting a hymn of praise to their im- 
 maculate patroness ; next, proceeded 
 those sisters honoured with the care of 
 the numerous relics; then, the elder 
 nuns, bearing the pedestal on which 
 rested the sainted image ; behind those, 
 the lady abbess appeared, stately and 
 proud in her demeanour ; after her, fol- 
 lowed sister Beatrice, bearing on a damask 
 cushion, beautifully embroidered with 
 F 5 gold. 
 
106 THE ABBESS. 
 
 gold, a missal bound in crimson velvet ; 
 then came the rest of the nuns, telling 
 their beads; and lastly, the numerous 
 boarders of the convent. 
 
 Having placed the various relics on 
 the grand altar, the sisterhood, kneeling, 
 chanted a second hymn. In the mean 
 time, the madre Bracciano, followed by 
 sister Beatrice, approached the lower step 
 of the altar, and, taking from her the 
 missal, which she presented on her knee, 
 read a prayer ; then falling prostrate on 
 the pavement, remained for some time 
 in that position : rising, she ascended the 
 steps of the altar, and there depositing 
 the missal, she kissed the garments of 
 the holy image, and then descended. 
 Followed by the nuns, she proceed- 
 ed to the smaller chapels, and pla- 
 cing on their altars those relics in- 
 tended to adorn them, the ceremony 
 ended, and they returned to the mo- 
 nastery. 
 
 The 
 
THE ABBESS. 
 
 lot 
 
 The ensuing morning, at the ap- 
 pointed hour, the sisterhood took their 
 seats behind the grate ; and as the peal- 
 ing organ loud echoed through the 
 vaulted choir, the curtain was drawn 
 aside, and the nuns chanted their hymn 
 of praise. 
 
 Maddalena Rosa, during some time, 
 fixed her eyes on the ground. She 
 raised them at length, and beheld the 
 most engaging object her fancy had ever 
 painted ; it was, indeed, no other than 
 the conte Marcello Porta. She saw him 
 but for an instant, his eyes being also 
 bent upon her face. She withdrew her 
 regard, a thousand contending ideas 
 crowding on her agitated mind. She ex- 
 perienced a pleasure till then unknown ; 
 she forgot the sacred ceremony then per- 
 forming; she pictured to her imagination 
 nothing but the enchanting figure of the 
 stranger in the church. " Surely," thought 
 Maddalena, " he possesses a noble mind ; 
 F 6 that 
 
108 THE ABBESS. 
 
 that countenance proclaims him endowed 
 with every virtuous qualification." A 
 second time she raised her eyes, and still 
 his gaze was fixed upon her: a deep 
 glow overspread her cheek, as she bent 
 them to the ground. 
 
 At the conclusion of mass, she re- 
 tired with the sisterhood into the con- 
 vent, and gaining her chamber, indulged 
 those emotions that agitated her bosom. 
 She wished for evening vespers. — ** Per- 
 haps," thought she, " he may again be 
 present, and I shall once more behold 
 him." She was interrupted in the train 
 of her ideas, on hearing the bell summon 
 the sisterhood to the refectory. She de- 
 scended ; but her appetite was fled ; she 
 paid no attention to the sumptuous en- 
 tertainment that day prepared, nor to 
 the lady abbess, who honoured them 
 with her presence. After the repast, 
 she was desirous of speaking with her 
 friend Marietta, but was denied the sa- 
 tisfaction. 
 
THE ABBESS. 109 
 
 tisfaction, it being the rule of the con- 
 vent of Santa Maria, that the nuns, on 
 the feast of the Annunciation, should 
 hold no conversation but with sisters 
 who had also assumed the veil. 
 
 The knell at length proclaimed the 
 approach of vespers ; she counted each 
 heavy stroke, as it vibrated on the ear. 
 Again she took her station behind the 
 grate, and, as the curtain was gradually 
 undrawn, beheld the same prepossessing 
 figure. Her mind experienced a similar 
 confused train of ideas to those that had 
 before occupied it. Again she quitted 
 the church, and passed into the convent. 
 
 She immediately proceeded to the gar- 
 den ; all there was tranquillity : not one 
 of the sisterhood or boarders was visible. 
 Maddalena enjoyed this solitude : she 
 strolled along her favourite path ; she 
 entered the bower wherein she had ex- 
 perienced with Marietta so many tran- 
 quil. 
 
110 THE ABBESS. 
 
 quil, SO many happy hours ; but it seemed 
 altered— she no longer felt the same 
 pleasing emotions. She quitted it dissa- 
 tisfied, and continued along the path. 
 She stopped to view the tender violet, 
 which had flourished beneath her foster- 
 ing hand ; it seemed to droop its azure 
 head. Fain would she have wept be- 
 fore, but lacked excuse. She now burst 
 into tears, and again returned to the 
 bower. Throwing herself on the seat, 
 she fell into a state of torpitude, whence 
 she was at length awakened by Marietta, 
 who, in spite of the penance that would 
 await her, should she be observed con» 
 versing with any body but a sister, had 
 ventured to seek her friend, whose at- 
 tendance in the convent was required 
 to warn her of the necessity there was 
 for her immediate return. She left her, 
 and proceeded to the convent by a dif- 
 ferent path from that which Maddalena 
 pursued. 
 
 The 
 
THE ABBESS. Ill 
 
 The nuns were nearly all assembled, 
 to attend the lady abbess to the private 
 chapel ; and in the way to her chamber, 
 Maddalena met many of the novices 
 running hastily to the small corridor, 
 where they were ordered to meet the 
 madre Bracciano. 
 
 Having arranged her dress, she took 
 her beads and crucifix, and soon joined 
 the rest of the sisters. Luckily for her, 
 the lady abbess was still absent : she 
 looked for her friend Marietta, and felt 
 uneasy at not finding her yet returned. 
 — " Ah !" thought Maddalena, " how 
 much am 1 to blame ! should the madre 
 or sister Beatrice appear, she will suf- 
 fer for my fault." 
 
 Her fears were soon quieted ; for her 
 friend at that moment entered the gal- 
 lery. She cast around her an inquiring 
 look, but seeing Maddalena, smiled, 
 and immediately took her station. In 
 
 a few 
 
112 THE ABBESS. 
 
 a few minutes the lady abbess appeared, 
 who immediately proceeded at the head 
 of the sisterhood into the grand church. 
 Having as before given the various 
 relics into the hands of the nuns, the 
 image of the Virgin was again placed 
 on the pedestal. In the same order as 
 on the preceding day, the procession 
 slowly passed into the convent, and 
 thence to the private chapel, which was 
 splendidly illuminated. Each precious 
 relic being replaced in its situation, the 
 lady abbess read prayers, and then com- 
 menced an exhortative discourse, where- 
 in she expatiated largely on the sainted 
 character of the immaculate Virgin. 
 She represented in glowing colours, the 
 joys which must await those, who, curb- 
 ing their worldly desires, devoted them- 
 selves wholly to the service of their 
 God ; and lastly, touched upon the so- 
 lemn festival they had been commemo- 
 rating. At the conclusion of this ha- 
 rangue, the nuns chanted a short hymn 
 
 to 
 
THE ABBESS. IIS 
 
 to the Virgin, and retired into the con- 
 vent. 
 
 Maddalena slowly withdrew to her 
 chamber, on which the moon reflected 
 her silvery light. She proceeded to the 
 window — all nature was silent. She 
 felt the cooling breeze that exhaled the 
 odoriferous scent of flowers — the calm- 
 ness of the scene, in some measure, pa- 
 cified her troubled breast. She threw 
 herself on her bed — sleep lay heavy on 
 her eyelids, and she yielded to the pow- 
 erful charm, death's counterfeit. 
 
 As she slept, a vision floated before 
 her fancy : she thought that she again 
 saw the amiable stranger in the church. 
 His air was dignified, and he seemed 
 more interesting, if possible, than when 
 she had first beheld him. Suddenly, 
 the grate which separated them mould- 
 ered away. He flew towards her, and 
 knelt at her feet. At that instant, Mad- 
 dalena 
 
114 THE ABBESS. 
 
 dalena imagined some one held her arm : 
 turning, she thought the ghastly and 
 forbidding figure of padre Ubaldo stood 
 at her side. The youth then vanished, 
 and in his place stood the madre Vic- 
 toria. Rage marked every feature : in 
 her uplifted hand she grasped a naked 
 poniard, when the form of her friend 
 Marietta, pale and emaciated, glided 
 before her. Casting on her a look of 
 ineffable pity, she disappeared ; and 
 suddenly the scene faded before her. 
 She then found herself in a spacious 
 apartment, the walls of which were hung 
 with black velvet, and in the middle 
 stood a bier. Maddalena thought she 
 surveyed the chamber, but no one was 
 present ; and then proceeded to view the 
 face of the deceased. She advanced to 
 the spot where the coffin rested ; but, 
 as she bent over, and raised the pall, 
 the earth opened and received it. A 
 female figure seemed to glide along, 
 who, smiling, appeared to approach her. 
 
 It 
 
THE ABBESS. 115 
 
 It was again the nun Marietta. Mad- 
 dalena thought she flew to meet her; 
 but the figure changed to that of a liand- 
 some youth. She eyed him with atten- 
 tion, but had no recollection of his per- 
 son. He clasped her to his breast in 
 transport, and at that moment, Madda- 
 lena awoke. 
 
 She recollected the vision : every cir- 
 cumstance came fresh to her mind — she 
 recurred to every incident with horror. 
 Half rising, she looked around the apart- 
 ment, on which the moon still faintly 
 beamed. The abbey-clock struck three 
 — again she dropped her head upon the 
 pillow, but could not sleep. A secret 
 dread stole over her senses. — " What 
 can this mean?" she exclaimed, as, quit- 
 ting her couch, she hastily covered her- 
 self with her garments. 
 
 Maddalena seated herself at the win- 
 dow ; she beheld the accustomed scene. 
 
 Now 
 
116 THE ABBESS. 
 
 Now she recurred to the figure of the 
 stranger in the church — every circum- 
 stance of her extraordinary dream fol- 
 lowed. The pallid figure of her friend 
 Marietta — the lady abbess — the monk 
 Ubaldo — the sable chamber — the un- 
 known youth who had pressed her in 
 his arms — every one, by turns, occupied 
 her bewildered mind. Thus the mi- 
 nutes passed, till the first dawn of day. 
 Maddalena took up a book ; it was cal- 
 culated to fortify her mind against those 
 idle fears that will at times intrude them- 
 selves on our fancies. She read a prayer, 
 and felt composed ; she placed it on the 
 table, and, reclining her head upon her 
 ivory hand, sat watching the approach 
 of the blessed orb of day. 
 
 The morning was unclouded; the 
 scintillating stars no longer glittered in 
 the azure vault of heaven, but faded at 
 the coming of the glorious charioteer. 
 The eastern hills, from whose summits 
 
 the 
 
THE ABBESS. 117 
 
 the nightly mists ascended, were tipped 
 with gold refulgent. The shrill gorged 
 cock, with clarion note, sang to the 
 drowsy race of men. Now, from the 
 frothy bosom of the ocean, mount the 
 fiery steeds ; neighing, they shake their 
 ample manes, from which the dew am- 
 brosial falls. The blazing chariot, borne 
 on wheels of fire, next rises to the world, 
 diffusing a smile of joy over Nature's 
 blissful face. Now, the busy gondoliers 
 unmoor their vessels, which move upon 
 the spangled surface of the Arno. Now, 
 the peasant, bearing on his sturdy shoul- 
 ders the implements of labour, is seen 
 crossing from the humble village that 
 gave him birth, where his joys are all 
 centered, to the rich vineyard, or the 
 tufted forest. His ruddy countenance 
 bears the stamp of happiness ; as he turns, 
 perhaps, to view the well-known spire, 
 with pleasure he looks forward to the 
 return of eve. A frugal wife prepares 
 the wholesome meal, and prattling chil- 
 dren 
 
lis THE ABBESS. 
 
 dren kiss the sun-burnt hand that earns 
 their daily food. This scene, combining 
 at once a glorious thought of heaven 
 and the more simple pleasure that springs 
 from the contemplation of earthly joys, 
 restored tranquillity to Maddalena Ro- 
 sa's bosom. 
 
 In the morning, she was joined by 
 sister Marietta. As she entered her 
 apartment, the recollection of that part 
 of the vision which related to her, struck 
 forcibly on Maddalena's mind, and, not- 
 withstanding her efforts to restrain them, 
 her tears found a passage. The tender 
 caresses of her friend served bat to in- 
 crease her dejection. Marietta wished 
 to be made acquainted with its source. 
 After many entreaties, Maddalena re- 
 lated her dream, leaving out every cir- 
 cumstance that concerned her friend. 
 Marietta listened attentively to the re- 
 lation, and, though she smiled, yet an 
 apparent uneasiness was visible in her 
 
 countenance. 
 
THE ABBESS. D19 
 
 countenance. By her caresses, Madda- 
 lena was soon restored to her usual tran- 
 quillity. Marietta then required to 
 know who the stranger was, that she had 
 in reality seen in the church the pre- 
 ceding day. Maddalena, blushing, then 
 gave her friend a description of his cap- 
 tivating person. She confessed to her 
 the various emotions that had since agi- 
 tated her breast. Marietta listened to 
 the relation with pity and surprise, and 
 she perceived her friend's confusion du- 
 ring the recital. She saw the stifled 
 tear again burst forth, and, as she con- 
 cluded, Maddalena covered with both 
 her hands her lovely face, rendered still 
 more interesting by the translucent drop 
 that graced it. Marietta gently pressed 
 her to her bosom ; she soothed, then of- 
 fered her friendly counsel, the justness 
 of which, though Maddalena could not 
 deny, yet her love-sick mind had not 
 sufficient resolution to adopt. — " Oh, 
 tell me," cried she, " that I may per- 
 haps 
 
120 THE ABBESS. 
 
 haps once more behold him ! Tell me, 
 my friend, that, from my description of 
 his person, you think him virtuous ; say 
 that, were you Maddalena Rosa, similar 
 emotions would pervade your breast, on 
 beholding such an object. Converse but 
 in this strain, my Marietta, and I will 
 listen to your enchanting words. Yes ; 
 by day I will feast on them, and at 
 night the recollection shall occupy my 
 airy fancies." 
 
 During the day Maddalena was never 
 absent from her friend ; they strolled to- 
 gether in the garden ; they entered the 
 interwoven bower, sacred to friendship, 
 which diffused the woodbine's rich per- 
 fume. They visited the tender violet — 
 no longer it appeared to droop its head. 
 Maddalena smiled. — " Ah !" thought 
 she, " may this but prove the emblem of 
 my wishes ! may my drooping thoughts, 
 like this sweet flower, be cheered by the 
 radiant sun of happiness." 
 
 When 
 
THE ABBESS. 121 
 
 When night obliged Maddalena to 
 quit her friend, she retired to her cham- 
 ber. Ere dawn, she rose; her mind, 
 glowing with enthusiasm, gave full vent 
 to its feelings. She courted music's 
 powerful aid, and drew the angelic 
 choir from heaven to listen to her song. 
 
 These were the enchanting notes that 
 struck the ravished conte's ear, when 
 left by the monk Ubaldo in the antique 
 gallery. These were the sounds which 
 he justly attributed to this our lovely 
 boarder. 
 
 Maddalena then, kneeling, offered to 
 Heaven her suppliant orisons, relying 
 on its fostering care for protection. 
 
 VOL. I. G CHAP. 
 
122 THE ABBESS. 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 This outward sainted deputy. 
 Whose settled visage and deliberate word, 
 Nips youth in th' head, and follies doth emmew. 
 As falcon doth the fowl, is yet a devil. 
 
 Measurejor Meuiure. 
 
 I have begun, 
 And now I give my sensual race the rein : 
 Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite ; 
 Lay by all nicety, and prolixious blushes, 
 That banish what they sue for. 
 
 Measure for Measure. 
 
 The conte looked around — the monk 
 was not arrived. He slowly proceed- 
 ed along the cloisters, on which the 
 moon beamed in full splendour. As he 
 entered that angle which he had not 
 passed on the preceding night, he per- 
 ceived several objects which forcibly ar- 
 rested his attention. He advanced; they 
 
 were 
 
THE ABBESS. 123 
 
 were the noble effigies of bodies long 
 inurned : one, of grey marble, represented 
 a venerable figure in the pontifical habit, 
 whose beard hung low upon his breast ; 
 the mitre adorned his forehead, and his 
 hand held the pastoral crosier. Around 
 the base of the monument were images 
 of the twelve apostles, in alabaster of va- 
 rious colours : under these were placed 
 the escutcheons, whereon were embla- 
 zoned the prelate's arms. The conte 
 looked around the tomb, but no inscrip- 
 tion was remaining. A little farther, 
 upon a most magnificent structure of 
 black marble, rested the gigantic statue 
 of a knight in his coat armour. On his 
 left arm was buckled a large shield, 
 whereon were quartered his armorial 
 bearings. His unclosed beaver presented 
 a countenance fierce and commanding; 
 the cushion whereon his head reclined, 
 being supported by two angels on either 
 side, and at his feet was a lion couchant, 
 all of alabaster, most curiously wrought. 
 G 2 Over 
 
124 THE ABBESS. 
 
 Over the effigy was a stone canopy of 
 beautiful fret-work, from which rose 
 Gothic spires, on whose points were sculp- 
 tured numerous images — this sumptuous 
 roof being supported by serpentine pil- 
 lars of the richest porphyry. The conte 
 examined the inscription, in the hope of 
 finding the name of the person whose 
 effigies were here represented ; but his 
 curiosity was not gratified ; some monk- 
 ish lines in Latin verse, recorded only 
 the noble feats which, living, he had 
 achieved, and concluded with naming 
 him one of the chief patrons of the con- 
 vent. There were several other inferior 
 tombs, which merely attracted the conte's 
 momentary gaze. " Ah," thought he, 
 " what noble dust lies mouldering here ! 
 Where is now the pomp and pageantry, 
 which, living, you enjoyed? Where is 
 now the arm that bore yon stately 
 crosier ? Where the front that was en- 
 circled by that sacred mitre ? And where 
 the manly figure that was once cloathed 
 
 in 
 
THE ABBESS. 125 
 
 in yon cumbrous suit of mail? — All 
 mouldered, and become the food of 
 loathsome worms ! How humbled now 
 your pride! You occupy no more space 
 than that poor menial wretch, who once 
 waited humbly on your smiles. 
 
 Long would the conte have indulged 
 this train of moral reflections, but he 
 was suddenly awakened from his melan- 
 choly reverie, at hearing some person 
 open a door not far distant. He pro- 
 ceeded to the spot; it was the monk 
 who entered the cloisters. On perceiving 
 the conte, he beckoned him to approach, 
 and entering the latticed door which he 
 had passed on his quitting the convent, 
 Ubaldo conducted him through the 
 same suit of chambers. Again he was 
 shown into the Gothic gallery, and left 
 by the monk to indulge his meditations. 
 Ere many minutes had elapsed, one of 
 the nuns appeared, bearing in her hand 
 a lamp, her face being covered with a 
 G 3 long 
 
126 THE ABBESS. 
 
 long black veil : she approached the 
 conte, and in a low voice, requested that 
 he would follow her, when she led him 
 from the gallery by the same folding 
 door he had entered, and after traversing 
 some of the chambers which he had be- 
 fore passed, she struck into a narrow 
 passage, at the end of which was a long 
 corridor; this they crossed. The nun 
 then entered a spacious and well-fur- 
 nished apartment, at the farther end of 
 which they gained a door ; this his con- 
 ductress opened, and by her action in- 
 vited him to enter. She bowed her 
 head as he passed, and, closing the door 
 upon him, disappeared. 
 
 The conte found himself in a most 
 sumptuous apartment, the cornices of 
 which were gilt and highly burnished ; 
 the panels were of light green, latticed 
 with gold. Several Venice looking- 
 glasses, of large dimensions, were so dis- 
 posed as to heighten the magnificence of 
 
 this 
 
THE ABBESS. 127 
 
 this enchanting scene, by reflecting to 
 each other its numerous beauties. Rich 
 curtains of green silk, with a broad fringe 
 of gold, were suspended before the re- 
 cesses of the windows. A magnificent 
 sofa, supported on golden pillars, richly- 
 carved, and small couches, with trim- 
 mings correspondent to the curtains, 
 were ranged around. Two rich cabinets 
 of highly-polished steel, beautifully in- 
 laid with gold and silver, were placed in 
 two niches, on pedestals of similar work- 
 manship. A rich Persian carpet of 
 various dies caught the beholder's atten- 
 tion, upon which an ebony table, wrought 
 with tortoiseshell and ivory, stood in an 
 alcove between the cabinets, spread with 
 rich Florence wines and the choicest 
 fruits. Elegant girandoles of cut glass 
 held innumerable tapers, which threw a 
 strong light on some of the most won- 
 derful productions of the pencil. 
 
 In a large painting of the cruci- 
 G 4 fixion. 
 
128 THE ABBESS 
 
 fixion, were to be traced the divine 
 touches of that sublime genius, Raphael. 
 How exquisitely fine was the expression 
 in the Madona's countenance! what sen- 
 sations of pity did it not excite ! — how 
 great were the emotions that agitated 
 the soul, at beholding the resigned, the 
 melancholy face of the Saviour of man- 
 kind, as, languid, pale, and bloodless, 
 it reclined on his shoulder! — what hor- 
 ror chilled the frame, as you fixed your 
 regard upon the gaping wound, made 
 in his holy side, from which his life's 
 blood seemed distilling! 
 
 A grand performance of Michael 
 Angelo, father of the Florentine paint- 
 ers, next astonished you for the correct- 
 ness of its design — the subject was, the 
 last supper; the figures and drapery 
 were well disposed, and executed in a 
 peculiar style of grandeur. The archi- 
 tectural part was chastely beautiful. 
 
 The 
 
THE ABBESS. 129 
 
 The exquisite colouring of that won- 
 derful master, Leonardo da Vinci, whose 
 cultivated genius, strong imagination, 
 and correctness in the disposition of his 
 figures, are not to be surpassed, was 
 finely displayed in a performance of the 
 last judgment. What divine majesty 
 beamed in the Almighty's face ! — what 
 bliss was expressed in the countenances 
 of those whose virtues insured them 
 eternal happiness! — on the contrary, 
 what agony, horror, and dismay, mark- 
 ed those, who, conscious of their evil 
 deeds, awaited trembling, the justice of 
 offended Heaven ! 
 
 Several other fine pictures adorned 
 this apartment. Having alternately ex- 
 amined each of them, the conte seated 
 himself, and gazed on the surrounding 
 scene with astonishment. 
 
 Suddenly his thoughts recurred to 
 
 Maddalena Rosa. This sumptuous 
 
 G 5 apartment 
 
130 THE ABBESS. 
 
 apartment instantly vanished from be- 
 fore his sight, and his mind's eye be- 
 held nothing but her fascinating person : 
 like a lovely vision, she floated before 
 his warm fancy, and he painted to his 
 imagination nothing but scenes of future 
 bliss. 
 
 A panel of the chamber now shift- 
 ed. Surprised, the conte directed his 
 eyes to the spot. An elegant female, 
 most sumptuously habited, entered the 
 apartment, her face being concealed 
 by a long veil. The aperture seemed 
 to close after her, without human assis- 
 tance. She gracefully advanced to the 
 sofa, and seating herself with easy ele- 
 gance, reclined her cheek upon her left 
 hand, and with the other, courteously 
 encouraged the conte to approach her. 
 He arose, and was in an instant seated 
 at her side. — "To whom am I indebted," 
 exclaimed he, " for this unlooked-for 
 
 honour ? 
 
THE ABBESS. 181 
 
 honour? do I behold the charming ob- 
 ject now before me ?" 
 
 " Yes, signor, I am that female, who 
 beheld the conte Marcello, and, seeing, 
 could not choose but admire him." 
 
 The voice that uttered these words 
 was enchantingly sweet ; the figure be- 
 fore him, tall and graceful. The conte 
 for an instant felt surprised that she 
 should have acquired the knowledge of 
 his name: but this thought soon van- 
 ished. 
 
 " Art thou then the object of my 
 fervent adoration?" did he exclaim. 
 " Yes ; it must be so." 
 
 He was in a moment at her feet. 
 Stretching forth her lovely hand, she 
 desired him to rise. He seized and 
 pressed it — he could not refrain, but 
 raised it to his lips. — Again he resumed 
 his situation on the sofa. 
 
 G 6 " Conte, 
 
132 THE ABBESS. 
 
 " Conte, restrain the violence of your 
 transports, and hear me," said the beau- 
 tiful stranger. He was silent, and she 
 thus continued: — 
 
 ^' Did not padre Ubaldo, that faith- 
 ful monk of the convent of Santa Croce, 
 administer to you an oath of secresy ?" 
 
 " Signora, a holy father, whose name 
 1 was till now unacquainted with, did 
 propose to me an oath : I swore, and 
 will be secret." 
 
 " Conte," said the female, " that oath 
 concerns me : I am the stranger whose 
 name you are bound never to reveal ; 
 and learn from me, that I am noble as 
 yourself, my birth being in every way 
 equal to your own." 
 
 The conte, now fully convinced that 
 it must be the duca Bertocci's daugh- 
 ter, exclaimed — "Oh! name it not: 
 birth, titles, are but air; your love on 
 earth is all I would aspire to." 
 
 " Then, conte," answered the female, 
 
 in 
 
THE ABBESS. 138 
 
 in a confused, yet tender voice, " that is 
 yours already." 
 
 At that moment her beautiful hand 
 pressed that of the conte. What a de- 
 licious thrill ran through his feverish 
 veins ! Conceive the most delicate, small, 
 and transparent hand, that ever nature 
 formed, through which the branching 
 streaks of blue were plainly visible. 
 Imagine fingers pulpy, round, and taper, 
 each joint of which was an opening rose- 
 bud ; and, to complete the picture, add 
 nails long and beautifully formed, at the 
 extremity of which appeared a tinge of 
 the carnation. Such was the hand, 
 which, pressing that of the conte, gently 
 raised it to her breast. 
 
 " Feel you my heart ?" cried she, in 
 a melting tone : " is not its motion vio- 
 lent? tell me, conte, does it not bespeak 
 a glowing passion ? does it not betray 
 how much I love ? Ah ! beats yours with 
 
 such 
 
134 THE ABBESS. 
 
 such velocity? feel you the exquisite 
 thrill of passion ? retreats your blood 
 beneath my touch ? no, no ! your heart 
 is cold — insensible to my pressure." 
 
 At each word her voice grew fainter ; 
 yet her tones were enchantingly sweet. 
 
 " Lovely creature," cried the enrap- 
 tured conte, " you wrong my love !" 
 
 Involuntarily he conveyed that be- 
 witching hand to his bosom ; he placed 
 it on his heart ; he held it there with 
 fervour. Tumultuous boiled his youth- 
 ful blood — his passions were on fire. 
 
 " Yes, oh yes !" cried she, " I feel the 
 fluttering prisoner: but say, conte, is 
 he then mine ? beats he for me alone ? 
 does my breast from henceforth hold 
 him captive ?" 
 
 As 
 
THE ABBESS. 135 
 
 As she pronounced these words, her 
 head sunk on his shoulder. 
 
 " Yes, yes, dear fascinating creature," 
 returned the conte, " your lovely bosom 
 shall be his eternal prison." 
 
 These words were spoken with diffi- 
 culty — passion nearly stifled their utter- 
 ance. 
 
 " But let me seal my bond of faith 
 upon those lips," cried he. 
 
 As the conte spoke, he grasped the 
 veil ; she caught his arm, and bade him 
 desist, on pain of her displeasure. The 
 conte, dropping on his knee, intreated 
 her pardon for his presumption ; she 
 kindly, and with the sweetest compla- 
 cency, yielded him her forgiveness. 
 Again he seized her unresisting hand — 
 his feverish lips impressed on it a thou- 
 sand burning kisses. Rising, he again 
 threw himself at her side. 
 
 « Ah ! 
 
1S6 THE ABBESS. 
 
 " Ah ! it must be so," cried the 
 stranger. 
 
 " What mean you, my angel?" hastily 
 inquired the conte. 
 
 u; " Why, I must, for the present, check 
 the wildness of your passion," continued 
 she. 
 
 A soft sigh at that moment escaped 
 her lips. His hand still held one of hers ; 
 the other resting on her lap, glowed be- 
 neath the bewitching touch of her ivory 
 fingers. Again he raised hers to his 
 breast — again he placed it on his heart, 
 pressing with fervour that which lay 
 upon her lap; she also guided his to her 
 bosom. Her dress was thin ; he felt the 
 firm and beauteous breast that heaved 
 beneath : the warmth communicated to 
 his touch ; his blood more fiercely boil- 
 ed ; with difficulty he contained his pas- 
 sion. She sunk — she dropped her head 
 upon his shoulder. His face met that 
 part of the veil which covered hers; 
 
 he 
 
THE ABBESS. 137 
 
 he felt her breathe ; no fragrant flower 
 that ever kissed the zephyrs of the morn 
 was half so sweet. Overcome by her soft 
 emotions, she, powerless, dropped his 
 hand ; it gradually encircled her well- 
 turned waist. The moisture of her qui- 
 vering lips now damped the gauze, 
 through which he could perceive their 
 Vermillion tint. The brilliancy of her 
 full dark eyes, like the radiant star of 
 morn, appearing through the fleeting 
 mist, pierced the thin veil that half ob- 
 scured their lustre, and rendered them 
 more meltingly beautiful. Unable to 
 resist, the conte's lips met hers, and 
 their mouths were joined, copiously 
 draining the rich nectar. — " Now," cried 
 the conte, " I seal my bond of faith." 
 
 She gently repulsed him, and, rising 
 from the couch, exclaimed, in a confused 
 voice — " 'Tis time you should refresh 
 yourself." 
 
 Hastily rising from the couch, she 
 
 advanced 
 
138 THE ABBESS. 
 
 advanced to the table. The conte flew 
 there before her ; seizing a large goblet 
 of pure embossed gold, he filled it to 
 the brim with sparkling wine. On his 
 knee, presenting it to her, he entreated 
 that she would drink. 
 
 Her trembling hand took the cup. — 
 " From you, my love," said she, " I 
 can refuse nothing." With her left 
 hand partly raising the veil, she but 
 moistened her lips with the liquor, and 
 again returned it to his hand. — " Now, 
 conte, pledge me in your turn." 
 
 The dew of her lip yet glittered on 
 its brim ; he eagerly caught, and drank 
 the contents. 
 
 She took a large cluster of grapes, on 
 which the purple bloom appeared. She 
 divided it with the conte, and again re- 
 turned to the sofa. 
 
 "Oh, 
 
THE ABBESS. 139 
 
 " Oh, may I not then behold those 
 lovely features?" did he passionately ex- 
 claim, as, advancing towards her, he 
 threw himself at her side ? " Am I to be 
 consumed with this secret desire? May I 
 not gaze on that angelic countenance ?" 
 
 " Conte, I will no longer check your 
 ardent wish : you are bound to secresy — 
 you have sworn that you love me — that 
 heart, which palpitates within^ your bo- 
 som, beats but for me — this breast is its 
 eternal prison. Yes, you shall behold 
 those features you have subdued — those 
 lips on which you have ratified your 
 oath, and where you shall yet seal it a 
 thousand times." 
 
 She gradually raised the veil. The 
 conte's soul spoke in his eyes : he be- 
 held a lovely countenance ; but it was 
 not the boarder's — the supposed Madda- 
 lena Rosa ! He examined the features ; 
 but what was his astonishment, his hor- 
 ror, at tracing, notwithstanding the dis- 
 guise 
 
140 THE ABBESS. 
 
 guise in which her present dress enve- 
 loped her, the well-remembered traits 
 of the abbess of the convent — the sancti- 
 fied mad re Vittoria Bracciano, superior 
 of the immaculate sisterhoo.l of Santa 
 iMaria. — " Merciful Heaven !" was the 
 exclamation that burst involuntarily 
 from his lips. 
 
 The madre caught his hand, and ex- 
 claimed — "What mean you, conte? 
 Why this astonishment? Why that 
 exclamation of surprise?" 
 
 " Are my senses deceived?" continued 
 the conte, without noticing her ques- 
 tion. His eye, at that moment, fixed 
 on the face of the Madona, in the en- 
 chanting picture of Raphael. He 
 thought her features were the exact 
 counterpart of the beautiful boarder. 
 Her eyes, from which crystal tears dis- 
 tilled, seemed bent on his countenance, 
 with a look of mingled reproach and 
 pity. — " Ah, purest excellence, how 
 have my bewildered thoughts injured 
 
 thy 
 
THE ABBESS. 141 
 
 thy spotless virtue ! How could I be 
 
 deceived, lovely " 
 
 He was going to utter Maddalena 
 Rosa's name; but the nnadre interrupt- 
 ing him, exclaimed, with vehemence — 
 " Where is this pure, this lovely excel- 
 lence? Traitor! am I then deceived? 
 Have you vowed eternal love, supposing 
 me to be another ?" 
 
 The conte, roused by the question, 
 withdrew his eyes, which had till then 
 been rivetted on the picture, and fixed 
 them on the madre's countenance; but 
 how changed were her looks! a thou- 
 sand contending passions now marked 
 her features A malignant fire darted 
 from those eyes which beamed before 
 the languid rays of love; a deadly hue 
 o'erspread those cheeks, which were be- 
 fore suffused with the warm glow of 
 passion; and those lips were now pale 
 and quivering, which had resembled the 
 blooming moss-rose. The conte, con- 
 fused, 
 
142 THE ABBESS. 
 
 fused, was unable to answer her inter- 
 rogatory. This silence seeming to give 
 a tacit confirmation to what she had ut- 
 tered, heightened her rage to madness, 
 and she thus continued : — " But this 
 rival, this loved, this adored excellence, 
 shall not escape my vigilance. No, no, 
 deceitful, vile, dissembling man, I 
 will discover her: no scheme, no plan, 
 shall be left untried. I have friends — I 
 have dependants, who exist but on my 
 bounty. To them will I unburthen my 
 complaints, and on their honest zeal 
 place my dependence of revenge. But 
 mark me, conte, should that resource 
 fail, I am a woman of courage — one 
 that will not suffer such an injury with 
 impunity, but will myself seek revenge; 
 and, should circumstances require, this 
 hand can deal the blow of death." 
 
 The conte had at first determined on 
 expressing openly the abhorrence he had 
 conceived of her character ; but this ter- 
 rible threat awakened all his fears for 
 
 the 
 
THE ABBESS. 14S 
 
 the real object of his passion ; and he re- 
 solved (though he held deception in the 
 most despicable light) to have recourse 
 to it on the present occasion, urged by 
 the voice of prudence, and in justice to 
 the innocent, who might be involved in 
 his confession. With great presence of 
 mind, he caught the madre's hand. — 
 ** And is it then possible !" exclaimed 
 the conte. " Can the lovely object be- 
 fore me suspect my passion? What 
 could lead me to take an oath so sacred? 
 what brought me to this convent ? and 
 why should I betray such transports in 
 your presence ?" 
 
 The madre's features relaxed — " Then, 
 why was that expression uttered? — to 
 whom addressed ? — and whence proceed- 
 ed that mute astonishment, when I un- 
 veiled my features?" 
 
 " Charming woman !" cried the conte, 
 " I will satisfy these doubts, which in- 
 deed argue so strongly against me. While 
 those bright eyes, while that enchanting 
 
 countenance 
 
144 THE ABBESS. 
 
 countenance was veiled, hurried on by 
 the excess of my tender passion, 1 forgot 
 your holy character; but, at the fatal 
 moment which discovered your features, 
 I remembered the madre of this sacred 
 mansion. My eyes caught those of the 
 Madona, in that sublime performance of 
 Raphael : methought she darted at me a 
 look of anger, that petrified me ; that it 
 was which caused the sudden exclama- 
 tion. I stood confessed of my fault; 
 the crime rested solely in my breast. 
 'Twas I that so assiduously sought you; 
 'twas I that filled your breast with an 
 irreligious fire. Oh, madre ! I blush at 
 myself; let me fly you; let my future 
 penitence absolve the load of guilt that 
 weighs upon my conscience." 
 
 " Noble youth !" exclaimed the ma- 
 dre, " how have 1 then wronged your 
 love! But forgive me, conte; and let 
 the violence of my anger, at supposing 
 you false, prove the sincerity, the strength 
 of my attachment. You are — you shall 
 
 be 
 
THE ABBESS. 145 
 
 be mine: 'tis true, the whining priest 
 can never join us; but that will render 
 our loves even more permanent. Love 
 must be free as the rose-kissing zephyr, 
 unshackled by any tie but that which 
 flows voluntarily from its own bosom. 
 The strongest chain cannot withhold 
 him ; he will escape alike the gloomy 
 dungeon or the lofty turret. 'Tis the 
 silken cord that alone secures his flight ; 
 'tis the tender wreath with which he has 
 entwined our hearts, that ensures a bliss 
 unclouded. What ! though my parents 
 procured me this exalted station, I can- 
 not thank their care ; they consulted but 
 their own ambition, and not my happi- 
 ness. Did they not rear me from my 
 tenderest infancy ? and could they not 
 perceive that I possessed those glowing 
 passions inherent in the human mind? 
 Could they blindly imagine, that I 
 should in an instant smother them? 
 Are those warm emotions of the soul to 
 be chilled by the damp gloom of a clois- 
 voL. I. H ter? 
 
146 THE ABBESS. 
 
 ter ? Oh, never ! confinement may, for 
 a time, conceal the flame, which, not- 
 withstanding, works in secret, to blaze 
 more unquenchable. This life of celi- 
 bacy was a human ordinance ; pure na- 
 ture shuddered at the dreadful act. It 
 was a law, instituted perhaps by some 
 great, some wretched man, who, satiated 
 with the improper enjoyment of his vi- 
 cious desires, retired, gloomy and dis- 
 contented, to plan the wretchedness of 
 thousands. But these human laws shall 
 not influence me\ my soul abhors this 
 cheat, reared and concealed beneath the 
 mask of piety." 
 
 The conte stood astonished at hearing 
 such bold assertions proceed from the 
 mad re's lips. 
 
 ** Nay, conte," continued she, per- 
 ceiving his surprise, " this is perhaps 
 the first time such language ever struck 
 your ear from the inhabitant of a con- 
 vent. 
 
THE ABBESS. 147 
 
 vent. But think not, because the tongue 
 is silent, the mind is tranquil also. 
 Others, in private, to themselves confess, 
 that which to you I have thus boldly 
 dared to utter." 
 
 The conte acknowledged to himself 
 the justness of her remarks, though he 
 wished they had not issued from the 
 mouth of a female. — " Tell me, lovely 
 madre " 
 
 He was going to proceed, but she 
 suddenly checked him. — " Address me 
 not, I pray you, by that detested name. 
 Title me Vittoria — call me what I am 
 — your love. I cannot hear the hated 
 name with pleasure, even from your lips." 
 
 " Oh, tell me, Vittoria," answered 
 the conte, " should my visit here be 
 
 discovered You have confided in the 
 
 padre Ubaldo ; you have also entrusted 
 the secret to that nun who conducted 
 me from the gallery. May there not be 
 danger ?" 
 
 H 2 " Fear 
 
148 THE ABBESS. 
 
 " Fear them not, dear conte," re- 
 turned the madre ; " they are as strongly 
 secured to me by interest, as you by 
 love. They will not speak ; and if they 
 did, who would dare believe them ? 
 Have I not power to punish ? and are 
 they not my inferiors ? Taint not your 
 mind with idle fears, dear conte; we 
 are secure, and will be happy. For the 
 present, however, we must part: the 
 dawn approaches ; I will myself conduct 
 you hence. 
 
 She caught his hand — she pressed it : 
 her head inclined towards him. The 
 conte could not but impress the parting 
 kiss. They rose, and proceeded to the 
 cloisters. Again he received the ma- 
 dre's warm embrace, and quitted her, 
 having first promised to return, accord- 
 ing to her desire, on the Thursday fol- 
 lowing. 
 
 The conte proceeded mechanically to 
 
 his 
 
THE ABBESS. 149 
 
 his palace. He entered his chamber, 
 and, throwing himself upon his couch, 
 gave way to those reflections which the 
 late scene inspired. — " Good Heavens !" 
 thought he, " how could I be so blinded 
 by passion, as for one moment to sup- 
 pose, that the lovely innocent boarder 
 would follow such a line of conduct ? or, 
 had it been really Maddalena, how could 
 I yield my soul to any sensation but dis- 
 gust? What have I done in my deli- 
 rium ? Vowed eternal love to an object 
 I can never esteem — been guilty of a 
 detestable artifice, which I must in all 
 probability continue to practise ! Oh, 
 how can I ever again think of the 
 chaste, the adorable Rosa? for that, 
 I am convinced, must be the name of 
 the enchanting boarder of Santa Maria; 
 'tis she alone that can answer to the sig- 
 ner Patelli's glowing description. Yet, 
 if I had confessed my love for another, 
 what miorht not have been the conse- 
 quence? The innocent Maddalena, who, 
 H 3 perhaps, 
 
150 THE ABBESS. 
 
 perhaps, does not even now remember 
 me, would have fallen a sacrifice to the 
 madre's implacable and cruel revenge ; 
 for, violent must be the passions which 
 inhabit her bosom. What should I not 
 have to dread from the monk Ubaldo ! 
 Yes, yes, she has friends, she has de- 
 pendants, who would, doubtless, rouse 
 themselves to action at her call. I shud- 
 der at the bare idea of that which might 
 have happened. What a mind must 
 this monk possess? What deceit must 
 inhabit the bosom of him, who while 
 employed in fulfilhng the most con- 
 temptuous office, could, in my presence, 
 kneel before the image of the Virgin, 
 and offer up his hypocritical prayers !" 
 
 The conte revolved in his mind every 
 circumstance that had occurred, from 
 his first interview with the monk, to the 
 conclusion of that with the madre Vit- 
 toria. The sun beamed above the ho- 
 rizon, 
 
THE ABBESS. 151 
 
 rizon, ere sleep threw over his senses her 
 oblivious veil, and calmed, for a timej 
 this tumultuous train of ideas. 
 
 H 4 CHAP. 
 
152 THE ABBESS. 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 •Tis but to die ! 
 
 Tis but to do, what, at this very moment, 
 In many nations of the peopled earth, 
 A thousand and a thousand shall do with me r 
 Tis but to close ray eyes, and shut out daylight. 
 To view no more the wicked ways of men, 
 And be a weeping witness of their woes. 
 
 Row£» 
 
 " Thy fire alone, religion, death disarms, 
 Breaks all his darts, and ev'ry viper charms : 
 Softened by thee, the grisly form appears, 
 No more the horrid object of our fears. 
 We, undismay'd, this awful power obey, 
 That guides us thro' the safe, tho' gloomy way. 
 Which leads to life, and to that blest abode. 
 Where ravish'd minds enjoy, what here they own'd — 
 a God." 
 
 Maddalena's mind was still occupied 
 by the remembrance of the conte ; her 
 bosom became the seat of passion ; for 
 
 love 
 
THE ABBESS. 153 
 
 love triumphant held dominion over her 
 heart. Marietta was her sole confidant ; 
 her breast was the repository of Maddale- 
 na's most secret thoughts. The garden, 
 the bower, and the chamber, formerly wit- 
 nesses of their conversations, proceeding 
 only from the pleasure which the contem- 
 plation of all-lovely nature, and the 
 sweet voice of friendship afforded, were 
 now alternately filled with the soft strains 
 of love. Marietta, in pity to her friend, 
 no longer attempted to check her fond 
 hopes. 
 
 Thus glided their hours in happiness ; 
 but short were their duration : a sudden 
 melancholy took possession of Marietta's 
 mind ; the colour faded from her cheeks, 
 and her eyes lost their lustre and sere- 
 nity. A slow fever preyed on her con- 
 stitution ; her strength soon yielded to 
 the ravages of sickness, and she seemed 
 hastening to her native heaven. Unable 
 to quit her cell, she was soon confined 
 H 5 to 
 
154 THE ABBESS. 
 
 to that bed, from which she was never 
 again to rise. Maddalena was her 
 constant attendant ; and by every in- 
 ducement that the tenderest and most 
 sincere friendship could suggest, endea- 
 voured to soothe and animate her droop- 
 ing spirits. With anxious solicitude, 
 she watched Marietta's broken slum- 
 bers, and administered those draughts 
 which were ordered by the padre Igna- 
 zio of the convent of Santa Croce. 
 Love no longer animated Maddalena's 
 heart ; for she beheld her gentle friend 
 wasting beneath the morbid hand 
 of pale disease ; and, ere three days had 
 elapsed, she was become a skeleton. 
 Early on the evening of the fourth, 
 she fell into a profound sleep. Madda- 
 lena, with her friend's hand locked within 
 hers, knelt by her side in fervent prayer. 
 She slept for some hours, and, on awak- 
 ing, cast her hollow eyes on Maddalena's, 
 from which the tears distilled in abun- 
 dance. She pressed her hand to her 
 
 ashy 
 
THE ABBESS. 155 
 
 ashy lips, and kissing it with all the fer- 
 vour that her languid state would admit 
 — " 'Tis done, my Maddalena. I wake 
 to this world for the last time ; my next 
 sleep will be eternal. But tell me, are 
 we alone, my friend ?" 
 
 The nuns who had alternately at- 
 tended Marietta, were then at vespers. 
 
 " 'Tis well. Now, listen to me, Mad- 
 dalena, and hear the latest counsel that 
 ever will escape thy Marietta's lips. 
 With sisterly fondness we have che- 
 rished each other ; our affections have 
 been pure as the loves of angels ; even 
 so shall they prove lasting. We were 
 both young, and alike inexperienced in 
 the ways of the world : you have still 
 your race to run, Maddalena. You 
 must enter that treacherous garden, 
 strewed with roses — those flowery paths, 
 beneath whose fragrant sweets lie beds 
 of thorns. You must mingle with the 
 H 6 syco- 
 
156 THE ABBESS. 
 
 sycophantic throng, with the base deceit- 
 ful sons of men : but my journey, Mad- 
 dalena, is short; I shall escape those 
 dangers which threaten you. Death 
 snatches me — the yawning grave gapes 
 wide to receive me. Gladly I quit this 
 scene of misery. I thank my Maker, 
 who takes me from temptation. But, 
 oh, my friend, strengthen your mind 
 against those very trials, for many are 
 the worldly difficulties you will have to 
 encounter! Bear courageously every ill 
 that may befall you ; let no temptation 
 draw you from the rugged path of virtue. 
 Place no dependance on mortal aid ; 
 there is but one in whom all power is 
 vested — the God of Nature, the Lord 
 Omnipotent, around whose throne no 
 courtly throng is ranged to bar the 
 humble suppliant's petition. He needs 
 no studied oration, no pompous prayer; 
 he requires the genuine language of the 
 heart — a contrite sigh — a soul-emitting 
 tear — a gentle hand for charity, that 
 
 greatest 
 
THE ABBESS. 157 
 
 greatest attribute, that makes man kin- 
 dred with his God, that raises him above 
 the brute, that tells him he has a soul. 
 I know not how it is, my Maddalena ; 
 and yet, I think, the object on whom 
 thy soul doats is worthy of thy affection. 
 Yes, there is a sympathy in virtuous 
 minds, that irresistibly inclines them to 
 each other." 
 
 After a short pause. Marietta conti- 
 nued — " Should those difficulties assail 
 thee, which my mind forebodes, resist 
 them with steady fortitude. Shouldst 
 thou for a moment waver, that weak- 
 ness which is inherent in the human 
 mind, will then predominate, and thou 
 art irrevocably lost. It is by regulating 
 each action of my life, according to the 
 dictates of virtue, that I feel no horror 
 at the near approach of death. My soul 
 pants for eternity ; eagerly it seeks to 
 quit this outward frame, and fly into the 
 bosom of its God, where it can be sus- 
 ceptible 
 
158 THE ABBESS. 
 
 ceptible of no pain, can feel no sorrow, 
 nor be subject to any contending pas- 
 sions. Oh, my Maddalena ! such, I am 
 convinced, will be thy last moments. 
 Dry those tears, my friend, which flow 
 in such abundance ; we part but for a 
 time : be then thyself, nor let thy sighs 
 embitter my dying moments." 
 
 Maddalena's heart overflowed. She 
 fixed her streaming eyes on heaven, in 
 speechless agony. — " And must we then 
 part ?" was all she uttered. 
 
 With angelic pity, she bent them on 
 Marietta's wasted countenance. She 
 caught her hand, and, sinking on her 
 knees, covered it with her lovely cheek, 
 rendered more beautiful by the tears 
 that moistened it. 
 
 " Oh, curb this excess of grief!" con- 
 tinued Marietta ; " and yet for a little 
 hear me." 
 
 Maddalena 
 
THE ABBESS. 159 
 
 Maddalena rose, and again seated her- 
 self by the bed-side. 
 
 " Here is a small crucifix of gold, 
 which I have ever worn within my bo- 
 som ; it was the gift of my mother when 
 I entered this convent : keep it, Madda- 
 lena, in remembrance of me." 
 
 Marietta loosened the ribband whereby 
 it was suspended to her neck, and kiss- 
 ing, presented it to Maddalena. 
 
 " And at the silent hour of midnight, 
 when thou art wont to chant thy hymn 
 of praise, look upon it ; for, if departed 
 spirits ever visit those they loved on 
 earth, I will, at that solemn hour, be 
 with thee ; or, if thou shouldst expe- 
 rience any untov/ard calamity, fix thine 
 eyes upon this cross ; think on the in- 
 dignities, the excruciating pangs, w^hich 
 were patiently borne by Christ, the di- 
 vine original, and learn to bear thy 
 
 own 
 
160 THE ABBESS. 
 
 own sorrows with calm resignation. Re- 
 member too, it was thy friend, the dying 
 Marietta, who thus counselled thee." 
 
 As she concluded these words, the 
 door of the cell opened, and the padre 
 Ignazio entered, accompanied by two of 
 the nuns. He approached the bed, and 
 taking Marietta's hand, observed her for 
 some time in silence. — " Sister," he at 
 length exclaimed, " I cannot give you 
 comfort ; all hope is fled ; therefore, pre- 
 pare for what must shortly happen. No 
 human skill, no drug is potent enough 
 to counteract the fell disease that in- 
 wardly consumes you." 
 
 " Father, 1 am resigned," returned 
 Marietta ; " yet I would my confessor 
 were here." 
 
 " Ere an hour hath elapsed, he shall 
 attend you ; for so he promised me."' 
 
 The padre shortly after quitted Ma- 
 rietta's cell : the two nuns knelt on either 
 
 side 
 
THE ABBESS. I6l 
 
 side the bed, and told their beads. Mad- 
 dalena's face was covered with her hands, 
 to conceal the tears which plenteously 
 flowed. 
 
 As the abbey-clock struck nine, the 
 padre Ubaldo entered, bearing the Host. 
 He approached the bed : Marietta was 
 with difficulty raised. The padre then 
 ordered every one from the cell. Mad- 
 dalena quitted it with reluctance. 
 
 When half-an-hour had elapsed, the 
 nuns were aorain admitted, one of whom 
 was immediately dispatched to summon 
 the lady abbess. She soon after appeared, 
 followed by most of the sisterhood. She 
 seated herself by Marietta's bed, and 
 ordered every one present to kneel. 
 The monk then delivered a short oration, 
 at the conclusion of which the bell sound- 
 ed. Everv face was covered : the padre 
 approached the bed, and administered 
 the sacrament to Marietta. 
 
 Not- 
 
162 THE ABBESS. 
 
 Notwithstanding the fervency with 
 which Maddalena prayed, she could not 
 behold the scene before her, without re- 
 curring to her extraordinary dream. — 
 " Good Heaven !" thought she, my 
 friend appeared such as I now behold 
 her, pale and emaciated : that dreadful 
 part of the mysterious vision is too truly 
 verified." The threatening look of the 
 abbess then came to her recollection, 
 and the padre's dreadful countenance, 
 who, she fancied, on the present occasion, 
 regarded her with scrutinizing attention, 
 awakened in her mind all the sensations 
 of terror she had felt on that occasion. 
 
 The madre Bracciano rose, and, be- 
 stowing a benediction on the dying Ma- 
 rietta, quitted the cell. Every one fol- 
 lowed, except Maddalena and the two 
 nuns. Shortly after, she received a mes- 
 sage from the lady abbess, which sum- 
 moned her to the refectory. She ap- 
 proached the bed, and, taking Marietta's 
 
 hand, 
 
THE ABBESS. 163 
 
 hand, pressed it to her lips in an agony 
 of sorrow. She attempted to speak, but 
 could not; she fixed her eyes, dimmed 
 with tears, on those of her friend ; then 
 audibly sobbed. Marietta faintly pressed 
 her hand, and, fixing her regard for a 
 moment on Maddalena, raised her eyes 
 to heaven ; her lips moved, as if uttering 
 a prayer; now her hand became cold 
 and clammy ; her fingers were agitated; 
 her eyelids fell ; she sighed, and dropped 
 lifeless on the pillow. Maddalena cast a 
 look of anguish on the pale corse of her 
 friend, and, turning from the sight, 
 raised her hand to her forehead, and 
 quitted the cell. She proceeded slowly 
 to the refectory, where she was severely 
 reprimanded by sister Beatrice, for not 
 having quitted Marietta's cell with the 
 rest of the boarders. Her mind was so 
 oppressed with sorrow, that she paid no 
 attention to these illiberal invectives. 
 Shortly after, the sisterhood retired to 
 rest. 
 
 When 
 
164 THE ABBESS. 
 
 When in her chamber, Maddalena in- 
 dulged the poignancy of her grief. How 
 often, during the night, which was pass- 
 ed without once closing her eyes, did 
 she wish to visit the remains of her friend ! 
 how did she envy those sisters who were 
 deputed to watch beside Marietta's 
 breathless corse ! She rose early the fol- 
 lowing morning, and proceeded with 
 trembling steps towards Marietta's cell. 
 She gained the door, and, listening, 
 found all within was silent. — " Ah !" 
 thought Maddalena, " how the scene is 
 changed ! Often, at this hour, has the 
 well-known door been open to admit 
 me, and the spread arms of my friend 
 been ready to clasp me to her beloved 
 bosom. How still, how dreary now is 
 every surrounding object !" She tapped 
 gently, and was admitted. 
 
 " You must not continue long in this 
 chamber," said the nun who opened the 
 door: " it was the express command of 
 the superior, that no one should enter 
 
 here; 
 
THE ABBESS. 165 
 
 here; but, knowing your attachment to 
 our deceased sister, we have infringed 
 her commands." 
 
 Maddalena returned her warmest 
 thanks for this considerate mark of her 
 affection. She approached the bed on 
 which the body of Marietta was laid. 
 Having been dressed during the night 
 in the habit of the order, according to 
 the rule of the convent, her arms were 
 crossed upon her breast, on which was 
 laid a large wooden crucifix ; the veil 
 was thrown back, and her feet were bare. 
 Maddalena fixed her eyes upon the life- 
 less countenance of her friend, but never 
 did death appear so amiable. A sweet 
 serenity marked every feature ; her skin 
 partook not of the sallow hue, but was 
 transparently clear ; her lips were pale, 
 but the blood had revisited her cheeks, 
 and spread a faint rosy tinge that ren- 
 dered her delicately beautiful. Madda- 
 lena's tears fell plenteously, as she press- 
 ed Marietta's damp icy lips. — " Alas !" 
 
 cried 
 
166 THE ABBESS. 
 
 cried she, " is this all that remains of 
 my beloved friend ? — this frame, which, 
 like a beauteous marble sepulchre, covers 
 the meagre form of death? Oh, thou 
 ghastly monarch ! could st thou not spare 
 this lovely innocent? — would nothing 
 but this fair frame satiate thy cruel ap- 
 petite ? Thou hast cropped a budding 
 lily I — hungry, thou pressest it to thy 
 bosom, ere the world hath smelt its odo- 
 riferous sweets ! — now I have lost thee, 
 in what tender bosom shall I incline my 
 drooping head ? — what pitying heart 
 will sympathize in my grief? — none. I 
 must drink these tears, waft my sighs 
 upon the bosom of the air, and feast 
 upon my own sorrows. And wilt thou 
 not smile then. Marietta ? — are those 
 sweet features for ever fixed immutable? 
 Yes, yes; it must be so, for Maddalena's 
 prayer avails not. Oh, thou aerial spirit, 
 if yet thou hoverest round thine earthly 
 mansion — if thou art not so totally trans- 
 formed, that every emotion of the hu- 
 man 
 
THE ABBESS. 167 
 
 man mind is fled, hear her for whom 
 thou didst once feel a pure friendship, 
 such as mortals think must glow within 
 the breasts of angels ! Remember the 
 promise uttered with thy latest breath ; 
 remember the solemn hour of midnight, 
 when I shall fix my tearful eyes on the 
 sacred token which thou gavest me. Be 
 with me in the day of trial — strengthen 
 my mind in adversity, and guard me 
 from impending dangers." 
 
 Again Maddalena kissed her lips, and, 
 with a composure which seemed newly 
 to animate her breast, quitted this scene 
 of death — this cell, which contained 
 one, who had in life been her friend, 
 and was in death most dear to her. 
 
 During the day the nuns were occu- 
 pied in preparing the various ornaments 
 which were to decorate the parlour be- 
 hind the grate, it being customary that 
 a deceased nun should lay there exposed 
 
 for 
 
168 THE ABBESS. 
 
 for a certain time: all light was shut 
 out from the apartment, the sides of 
 which were covered with black cloth. 
 In the middle stood the coffin, on a bier 
 hung with black: the lid open, disco- 
 vered the departed nun, completely 
 habited, with her face bare. At the 
 head of the coffin was a tall crucifix, and 
 on the right side was placed an image 
 of the patroness. Funeral torches of 
 green wax, in black candlesticks, were 
 ranged on either side, and two large 
 censers burning incense perfumed the 
 chamber. 
 
 Maddalena quitted this scene of pre- 
 paration, that gave her infinite pain. 
 She wished to enjoy solitude; she wan- 
 dered to those spots which reminded 
 her of her lost friend. The day wore 
 tediously away : immediately after sup- 
 per she retired from the refectory to her 
 chamber. She drew from her bosom 
 the golden cross ; she kissed it ; she con- 
 versed 
 
THE ABBESS. 169 
 
 versed with it, as if Marietta had been 
 present. She continued thus pleasingly 
 dehiding herself, and at length sunk to 
 rest; nor did she wake, till the clarion 
 note of the bird of morn proclaimed the 
 approach of rosy Aurora. Maddalena 
 arose, and descended, with the rest of 
 the boarders and sisterhood, into the 
 grated chamber, where mass was per- 
 formed. As soon as they had retired, 
 the curtain was withdrawn from before 
 the grate, and the body exposed to 
 those persons whose curiosity might 
 lead them to the church to behold the 
 sight. The corse lay in state during 
 this and the succeeding day, the third 
 morning being appointed for its inter- 
 ment. The madre and all the sister- 
 hood attended to hear mass ; a requiem 
 was sung, during which the sisters, by 
 turns, approached the coffin, and strew- 
 ed flowers round the bier: the body 
 was then borne away to the vault, fol- 
 lowed by the nuns, completely covered 
 VOL. I. I with 
 
170 THE ABBESS. 
 
 with their veils, singing a solemn dirge. 
 As the coffin was consigned to earth, 
 Maddalena with difficulty stifled her 
 emotions. The moment that the cere- 
 mony was ended she hastened to her 
 chamber, and throwing herself on her 
 knees, exclaimed in agony — " Oh Hea- 
 vens! must I then never more behold 
 my loved Marietta ?" 
 
 Her feelings overpowered her, and she 
 sunk on the floor. In this situation she 
 remained, till one of the boarders, who 
 came to summon her to breakfast, raised 
 her, and by applying water to her tem- 
 ples, at length restored her to animation. 
 She descended with her to the refectory ; 
 but was languid and stupified during 
 the rest of the day. Night came ; the 
 sisterhood retired to rest. Maddalena's 
 weary eyes yielded to the potent power 
 of sleep : the convent was hushed ; when 
 suddenly a violent knocking was heard 
 at the front gate, that made every cham- 
 ber 
 
THE ABBESS. 171 
 
 her re-echo. The affrighted sisters arose, 
 and flew towards the madre Bracciano's 
 apartment, who, also alarmed at this un- 
 common disturbance, was dressed, and 
 in the corridor adjoining. Soon after 
 the portress appeared, who informed the 
 abbess, that a female was just arrived, 
 who desired to speak with her in pri- 
 vate : she was ordered into the madre's 
 room, who, after a short conference, 
 came out, and desired that a chamber 
 might be instantly prepared for the 
 stranger. Every one instantly retired 
 to their respective cells, greatly surprised 
 at the singularity of this visit, and form- 
 ing conjectures as to who the intruder 
 might be. 
 
 1 2 CHAP. 
 
172 THE ABBESS. 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 2'A' Avvocato had long suppress'd 
 Enflaraed rage in glowing breast ; 
 Which now began to rage and burn as 
 Implacably as flame in furnace. 
 He trembled and look'd pale with ire, 
 Like ashes first, then red as fire. 
 At this the youth grew high in wrath, 
 And lifting hands and eyes up both, 
 Three times be smote on stomach stout. 
 
 Butler. 
 
 The conte rose at a late hour, and 
 immediately proceeded to the hotel of 
 his friend Viviani, whom he found at 
 home, and in a most pitiable condition. 
 He was wrapped in a long dressing- 
 gown, and reclining in a large elbow- 
 chair, with his face completely muffled. 
 
 On the conte's entrance into the apart- 
 ment, the signor was unable to turn ; 
 
 but. 
 
THE ABBESS. 173 
 
 but, in a voice that indicated bodily pain, 
 desired he would be seated. Astonish- 
 ed at beholding him in this situation, 
 the conte immediately inquired the 
 cause. 
 
 " My dear friend," cried Viviani, " I 
 have been most cursedly duped. As 
 to your rencontre with the ruffians, it 
 was a mere bagatelle, compared with the 
 pains I have endured since last we 
 parted." 
 
 " I beseech you, Viviani, explain 
 yourself," returned the conte. 
 
 " Trust me, Marcello, I mean so to 
 do," returned the invalid; " but hear 
 the relation with temper, I beseech you ; 
 for my bones have sufficiently suffered, 
 without my being subject to your ridi- 
 cule. 
 
 " I dined yesterday with some gay 
 young friends: we rose early, most of 
 them having engagements for the even- 
 ing. I determined on a walk towards 
 I 3 the 
 
174 THE ABBESS. 
 
 the banks of the Arno, whither I was 
 accompanied by two of the party. We 
 found a number of the middling class 
 of persons ; but among them two of the 
 most beautiful creatures I ever beheld. 
 We followed them for a considerable 
 time, and, at length, accosted them. 
 They remained silent; and my two 
 companions, wearied with the fruitless 
 attempt of drawing them into conversa- 
 tion, entreated that I would accompany 
 them back to the city; but I yielded 
 not to their request, (curse on my ob- 
 stinacy !) and they shortly after quitted 
 me. 
 
 " I continued with my two syrens; 
 and, after saying a thousand ridiculous 
 things, at length succeeded in rallying 
 them into good humour. 
 
 " We prolonged the walk till dusk: I 
 was enchanted with their persons, and 
 no less so with the acuteness of their 
 wit. During the conversation, I learnt 
 that they were sisters; but all my en- 
 deavours 
 
THE ABBESS. 175 
 
 deavours to draw from them a confession 
 of the place of their residence proved in- 
 effectual. They at last informed me, 
 that it was absolutely necessary they 
 should return ; and I accompanied them 
 back to Florence, 
 
 " On our entrance into the city, they 
 entreated that I would quit them ; but, 
 being unwilling to comply with this re- 
 quest, I informed them, that they were 
 certainly in possession of a talisman, 
 that rivetted me to their enchanting so- 
 ciety ; and that I could not quit them, 
 till I became acquainted with the place 
 of their residence. 
 
 " On this point they would by no 
 means satisfy me; till, finding that I 
 obstinately persisted in my resolution, 
 they began to hesitate : this I thought a 
 favourable omen, and again more ur- 
 gently pressed their compliance. They, 
 at length, requested that I would suffer 
 them to converse for a few minutes in 
 private: bowing, I permitted them to 
 I 4 proceed 
 
176 THE ABBESS. 
 
 proceed along the Strada. They soon 
 turned, and beckoned me towards them. 
 After acquainting me with their fears, 
 their father's impetuosity of temper, and 
 the strict character and religious princi- 
 ples of their mother, they told me, in 
 seeming agitation, that they resided in 
 the Strada di San Marino. I instantly 
 urged a meeting ; and they consented, 
 with well-feigned reluctance, to admit me 
 that night at ten o'clock. I requested 
 to be made acquainted with their name ; 
 they informed me it was Fetti ; that 
 their father was an avvocato, and well 
 known in the neighbourhood. I was 
 then instructed to knock gently twice 
 at the door ; but that in case their father 
 should admit me, I was to inquire for 
 donna Teresa Fetti. 
 
 * I shall be instantly summoned,' con- 
 tinued the artful little devil, * and will 
 clear every thing : he will retire with 
 my mother, at an early hour, to rest, and 
 
 you 
 
THE ABBESS. 177 
 
 you will then be left alone with me and 
 my sister.' 
 
 " Transported with their unexpected 
 compliance, I kissed their hands, and 
 quitted them, exulting in my good for- 
 tune. Anxiously I waited the appoint- 
 ed moment. I flew to the Strada di 
 San Marino, and soon found the avvo- 
 cato's house. I tapped twice at the 
 door, according to my instructions ; it 
 was soon opened by a very tall, bony 
 gentleman, in a long rusty black robe. 
 He fixed his eyes on me, and, in a voice 
 equally prepossessing with his person, 
 demanded my business. I, bowing, in- 
 formed him, that I wished to see donna 
 Teresa Fetti. 
 
 ' Donna Teresa !' exclaimed he. 
 * What ! my daughter ? And pray 
 what may your business be with her?' 
 
 ' I called here, signor, by her own 
 appointment.' 
 
 " After a moment's pause, the avvo- 
 
 cato desired that I would enter. He 
 
 I 5 closed 
 
178 THE ABBESS. 
 
 closed the door, which he locked after 
 him, and conducting me through a 
 long passage, I was ushered into a small 
 apartment, well stocked with musty 
 deeds and ponderous folios. He then 
 desired I would be seated. The lamp, 
 which was burning on the chimney- 
 piece, gave but a dim light. The avvo- 
 cato trimmed it, and taking his seat op- 
 site to me, rivetted his eyes on my 
 countenance, for some time, without 
 uttering a syllable. 
 
 " I confess this reception tended to 
 damp my ardour; and I would rather 
 have been enclosed in a cemetery, than 
 in this cursed avvocato's mansion. 
 
 " After having sufficiently scrutinized 
 me, he opened a desk, and taking from 
 thence a large bell, began to sound it 
 with violence. I, shortly after, heard 
 the approach of footsteps; this, I con- 
 cluded, must be donna Teresa. The 
 door opened; when, to my astonish- 
 ment, I beheld a diminutive thin old 
 
 woman. 
 
THE ABBESS. 179 
 
 woman, who, with a shrill voice, in- 
 quired the commands of her caro sposo, 
 
 * Look at this signor,' said the avvo- 
 cato; ' do you remember to have ever 
 before seen his person ?' 
 
 " The old lady, with great composure, 
 drew from her pocket a large pair of 
 spectacles. Having placed them on her 
 little thin pug nose, she leisurely ap- 
 proached me, and stretched out her 
 scraggy neck, till her face nearly met 
 mine, when my nose was assailed with 
 the most nauseous fume, that issued 
 from a mouth adorned with two rotten 
 rows of ebony. 
 
 " After having kept me in torture 
 for the space of five minutes, she turned 
 from me, and, beckoning her husband, 
 they both went out of the room. What 
 passed between them I know not; but 
 I shortly after heard him exclaim — 
 * Well, well, no matter; send her 
 down: if the jade has been faulty, I 
 I 6 shall 
 
180 THE ABBESS. 
 
 shall ascertain the fact; if not, why, 
 leave the affair to me.' 
 
 " The avvocato again entered the 
 apartment, and resumed his seat. I, 
 shortly after, heard a person descending 
 the stairs, who presently tapped at the 
 door. — * You may enter, Teresa,' cried 
 the avvocato. 
 
 '* I thought, at length, that I should 
 be relieved from purgatory. The door 
 opened, and the damsel entered. 
 
 " I stared at her person in amaze- 
 ment; for instead of the lovely crea- 
 ture I expected to behold, she was, on 
 the contrary, every thing that can be 
 conceived of ugliness. She appeared to 
 be about five and thirty : her figure was 
 tall: but she was her mother's own 
 child for leanness. Her eye, for she 
 had but one, was small, and void of 
 lustre. Her skin, which resembled 
 tanned leather, or the autumnal leaf, 
 hung about her face, as if warped from 
 her large sharp bones ; and the tresses 
 
 which 
 
THE ABBESS. 18l 
 
 which played around her swarthy neck, 
 were straight, and of the raven dye — in 
 short, she was a child worthy of her 
 lovely parents. 
 
 * What is your will, father?' cried 
 she, opening a large mouth, that emit- 
 ted a sound loud and dissonant. 
 
 * Be seated, my child,' cried the av- 
 vocato. 
 
 " I now plainly perceived that I had 
 been duped. I would have spoke; but 
 he insisted on my remaining silent, and 
 I was obliged to submit. In an autho- 
 ritative tone, he thus began — * Donna 
 Teresa Fetti, I charge you to answer 
 briefly the interrogatories I shall now 
 put to you. Do you know this signor 
 —or did you ever appoint a meeting 
 with him at my house?' 
 
 'What! I? Holy Virgin forbid!' 
 cried she, affecting to blush. 
 
 * And did you never before see him ?* 
 continued the avvocato. She replied 
 in the negative. 
 
 •And 
 
1§8 THE ABBESS. 
 
 * And to this you solemnly vouch ?' 
 
 ' I do, most solemnly,' cried the ugly 
 witch, rolling her eye with fury. 
 
 " Her father then turning, inquired 
 my name and place of abode ? To this 
 interrogatory I did not think fit to reply, 
 and began to expostulate, but in vain. 
 I at length gave myself the appellation 
 of Tomaso Orazzi, and told him that I 
 resided in the Strada Nova. 
 
 ' And when and where did you see 
 donna Teresa Fetti ?' 
 
 * This is the first time, signor, that I 
 ever beheld your daughter, if that lady 
 answers to the name of Fetti.' 
 
 ' How did you, then, learn the place 
 of her residence — and for what purpose 
 came you here ?' 
 
 " I then briefly acquainted the av- 
 vocato with my rencontre on the banks 
 of the Arno, with the appointment of 
 the two damsels to meet me at his house, 
 and their having told me that their name 
 was Fetti. 
 
 . " The 
 
THE ABBESS. 18? 
 
 " The signer, then, turning to his 
 desk, began to write, and afterwards 
 gave into my hands the paper, which 
 contained a naost sacred asseveration on 
 my part, that I had never seen his 
 daughter, and that my visit to his man- 
 sion originated in what I had heard from 
 two infamous women, for such he term- 
 ed the ladies whom I had met. To this 
 paper he desired I would affix my 
 name. I, without hesitation, signed my- 
 self Tomazo Orazzi. — * Go, my child, 
 continued he, * and quiet your fond mo- 
 ther's fears ; vou are as innocent and 
 spotless as ever.' Teresa rose and in- 
 stantly left the chamber. I could not 
 refrain my laughter, at the conclusion 
 of the avvocato's sentence. He frowned, 
 and desired to know if I had not suffi- 
 ciently insulted him, and why I should 
 still turn him into ridicule. The man- 
 ner in which he asked this question add- 
 ed to my risibility. The avvocato, en- 
 raged, began to harangue me, using the 
 
 most 
 
184 THE ABBESS. 
 
 most opprobrious language; he cursed 
 those wretches, into whose vile company 
 I had thrust myself; then, striking the 
 floor vehemently with his foot, exclaim- 
 ed — ' But you shall presently rue this 
 conduct ;' and, in a second, a tall fellow 
 entered the apartment. 
 
 * Brother,' cried the avvocato, ' you 
 have doubtless heard the story.' 
 
 * I have learnt it,' returned the other, 
 * from donna Teresa.' 
 
 ' And you have, I suppose, considered 
 the affront.' 
 
 ' I have,' said the signor, his brother, 
 ' and the insult cannot be forgiven.' 
 
 " The avvocato then continued, in 
 the same furious strain — * Signor, you 
 are young, and will doubtless soon for- 
 get the lesson I not long since gave you. 
 But should your memory ever serve, it 
 will only be to turn me again into ridi- 
 cule. To obviate this, I have deter- 
 mined to fix my counsels irrevocably in 
 
 your 
 
THE ABBESS. 185 
 
 your remembrance. Brother, you know 
 my meaning.' 
 
 * I do,* returned the other, who im- 
 mediately rose from his seat, and secured 
 my arms. I struggled, but he over- 
 powered and pinioned me. In the mean 
 time, the avvocato had summoned his 
 daughter, who entered the chamber, 
 bearing a thin cane ; he approached, and 
 gave me several stripes on the back. 
 
 " He was interrupted by his lovely 
 Teresa, who begged me to describe the 
 persons and dress of the females whom 
 I had met. Having satisfied her in that 
 point, she soon recollected the real name 
 of the sisters, and reminded her father, 
 that they had formerly been her most 
 intimate friends ; but, perceiving the 
 levity of their characters, she had bro- 
 ken off all connection with them. She 
 then exclaimed, that this was a wicked 
 plan to rob her of her spotless reputation, 
 and pretended to be touched, even to 
 tears. The avvocato's face kindled with 
 
 rage. 
 
186 THE ABBESS. 
 
 rage, and he raved against the vileness 
 of the act. His daughter left the cham- 
 ber, while I attempted to extenuate my 
 conduct. 
 
 ' We have heard enough,' cried the 
 lawyer, who a second time applied the 
 bastinado with his utmost strength. I 
 begged, I swore, but to no effect; he 
 ceased not till he reduced me to the situ- 
 ation in which you now behold me. I 
 was then hurried into the passage; the 
 door was unbolted by the avvocato's 
 brother; I boiled with rage: it stood 
 half open ; I turned unexpectedly, and, 
 aiming a violent blow at the awocato, 
 laid him at full length. The signor, his 
 brother, was behind the door, to which 
 I immediately applied my back, and, 
 placing my feet against the opposite wall, 
 I pressed him with all the strength I 
 was able. He bellowed in a convulsed 
 tone, and I was fearful lest he should be 
 stifled. The moment 1 quitted my po- 
 sition, he fell, groaning, along the pas- 
 sage. 
 
THE ABBESS. 187 
 
 sage. The avvoeato had recovered from 
 his prostrate situation ; but, by the ap- 
 plication of another blow, I a second 
 time felled him, and instantly quitted 
 his mansion. 
 
 " I soon experienced the effect of the 
 stripes I had received, and, with diffi- 
 culty, gained my hotel ; nor do I believe 
 there is one inch of me but bears some 
 mark of the cursed avvocato's resent- 
 ment." 
 
 The conte, smiling, rallied him upon 
 this ludicrous adventure. — " I have 
 often been astonished," said he, " at 
 your singular good fortune. No man 
 has been engaged in more affairs of gal- 
 lantry than yourself, yet none ever 
 escaped so well. This, however, may 
 perhaps serve to deter you for the fu- 
 ture." 
 
 " There, conte, you are mistaken," 
 returned Viviani : " it has but height- 
 ened my propensity for intrigue. I will 
 yet be revenged on the avvoeato and his 
 
 brother ; 
 
188 THE ABBESS. 
 
 brother; nor shall the sisters reap any 
 advantage from their deceptions con- 
 duct. But tell me, conte, how goes on 
 your inamorata ? have you already made 
 a confession of your love? and does she 
 return your ardent passion ?" 
 
 " Indeed, Viviani, I have not since 
 beheld her — nay, be not surprised, for 
 when I acquaint you with the place of 
 her residence, you will no longer be 
 astonished at my apparent neglect." 
 
 The conte; knowing that the solemn 
 oath which he had taken did not in the 
 least appertain to Maddalena Rosa, was 
 at liberty to divulge every thing which 
 related to his passion. He therefore 
 made Viviani acquainted with his having 
 first beheld the boarder on the feast of 
 the Annunciation. He also repeated his 
 conversation with the signor Patelli, and 
 his being introduced, through his means, 
 to the duca Bertocci. In short, he 
 omitted not a single circumstance which 
 
 he 
 
THE ABBESS. 189 
 
 lie had heard, relating to the object of 
 his adoration. Viviani then assured him, 
 that he was convinced the boarder must 
 be Maddalena Rosa — '' For I was once 
 in her company ; she answers the most 
 finished description of beauty you can 
 give, and her mind is indeed the seat of 
 every virtue. But you shall this day 
 dine with me, conte ; and, if my aching 
 limbs permit, I will accompany you in 
 the evening to vespers at Santa Maria, 
 and you shall then be fully satisfied as to 
 the name of your mistress." 
 
 The conte joyfully accepted the invi- 
 tation. In the evening, Viviani dressed 
 himself with difficulty, and they pro- 
 ceeded together to the grand church of 
 the convent. The conte was unwilling 
 to place himself directly opposite to the 
 grate, as the madre, in that case, would 
 not fail to observe him ; he therefore 
 took his station behind a pillar of the 
 opposite aisle of the church. At the 
 
 commence- 
 
190 THE ABBESS. 
 
 commencement of vespers, the conte 
 anxiously requested his friend to point 
 out the duca's daughter ; when Viviani 
 soon convinced him, that the object of 
 his love was, indeed, no other than Mad- 
 dalena Rosa, daughter of the duca Ber- 
 tocci. They remained in their situation 
 unobserved ; Viviani repeatedly urged 
 his friend to approach the grate, but the 
 conte constantly objected. 
 
 At the conclusion of the service, they 
 returned together to the hotel ; and the 
 conte, at a late hour in the evening, 
 quitted his friend Viviani, and returned 
 to the palace of Marcello Porta. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
THE ABBESS. 191 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 We'll mock the time with fairest show : 
 False face must hide what the false heart doth know. 
 
 Shakspeare, 
 
 Sink me to death, plunge me in streaming fire, 
 
 Heap mountains on my head, and bury my disgrace : 
 
 I to this earth will grow, 
 
 Out-rave the winter sea, out-rage the northern wind, 
 
 And with my loud complaints alarm the gods, 
 
 Till they resent my wrongs. Tate. 
 
 The appointed evening was arrived, and 
 the unwilling conte prepared to fulfil 
 his engagement with the madre Vitto- 
 ria. He proceeded, as usual, to the 
 cloisters, but no padre Ubaldo this night 
 made his appearance. The same nun 
 that had conducted him from the gallery, 
 on his last visit, was now anxiously wait- 
 ing his arrival* Having led him to the 
 
 same 
 
192 THE ABBESS. 
 
 same sumptuous apartment, she again 
 quitted him, and the madre soon after 
 entered by the same shifting panel. A 
 glow of pleasure was depictured on 
 every feature; her dark expressive eyes 
 irradiated the love that animated her 
 soul. She flew towards him, and fondly 
 seizing his hand, pressed it to her bo- 
 som. — "Ah! how lingering have the 
 moments passed since last we parted ! 
 but the source of joy, of life, returns! 
 he flies to my longing arms, borne on 
 Love's downy pinions !" 
 
 Thus situated, the conte could not 
 but embrace her. 
 
 " Oh !" continued the madre, " what 
 ecstacy this, to press the bosom we 
 adore, and feel its glowing palpitation ! 
 Such pleasures repay an age of living 
 suspense. Yes, life is precious, since it 
 affords such heavenly sensations. But 
 tell me, conte, have you by day watched 
 
 the 
 
THE ABBESS. 193 
 
 the sun*s bright course ? have you, like 
 me, chided the immortal charioteer, that 
 he lashed not his fiery steeds more 
 swiftly to their immortal bed ? have you 
 by night sat sighing to the pallid moon, 
 and, as the fleeting clouds by chance 
 obscured her faint lustre, blushing, pro- 
 nounced your mistress's name ? Oh ! 
 tell me — for this and much more have I 
 endured for you." 
 
 " Yes," exclaimed the conte, " I have 
 breathed forth her name ; and. Heaven 
 witness, how true, how ardent, is my 
 passion !" 
 
 " Noble conte, I glory in avowing 
 that you alone possess my unrivalled af- 
 fection ; but why seem you thoughtful ? 
 oh ! let me share your grief, if any doth 
 oppress you ; for who should partake 
 your sorrows, save her that holds domi- 
 nion in your heart ?" 
 
 The conte's asseveration had brought 
 
 her, to whom it was really addressed, so 
 
 VOL. I. K strongly 
 
194 THE ABBESS. 
 
 Strongly to his imagination, that he 
 found it impossible any longer to carry 
 on the deception. He flew to the table, 
 and hastily seizing a goblet, filled it to 
 the brim, and, raising it to his lips, ex- 
 claimed — " 'Tvvas bringing to my re- 
 collection the tedious hours that have 
 elapsed since last I saw my love ; but I 
 will rally my spirits, and drown the 
 sluggish thought. Here's to her my 
 soul adores !" 
 
 He quaffed the rich liquor, and, re- 
 plenishing the goblet, presented it to 
 the madre. She received it from his 
 hands, and repeating the words, " To 
 him my soul adores r drank sparingly 
 of its contents. He again took back 
 the cup, which he emptied without he- 
 sitation. The wine soon operated on 
 his senses ; he unconsciously threw him- 
 self on the couch, where the madre was 
 already seated ; her ivory arm imme- 
 diately encircled his neck ; the conte's 
 
 head 
 
THE ABBESS. 195 
 
 head sunk, unresisting, on her snowy 
 and palpitating bosom. The drugged 
 wine, which he had imprudently drank, 
 had it been taken in moderation, might 
 have served to exhilarate his spirits ; 
 but he had outstepped the bounds of 
 prudence, and youthful passion gained 
 the better of his reason. What can be 
 said ? the madre was beautiful, and the 
 conte but a man. 
 
 The abbey-clock struck four, as Mar- 
 cello Porta awoke from a deep sleep, 
 into which he had fallen. 
 
 " We must part," cried the madre, as 
 she impressed a kiss upon his lips. 
 
 The conte, stupified, arose from the 
 couch. He gazed around the chamber, 
 on which the wasted lights beamed 
 dimly. He turned his head, and beheld 
 the abbess at his side ; still he thought 
 that all was but a dream ; he could not 
 K 2! credit 
 
196 THE ABBESS, 
 
 credit his bewildered senses, and stood 
 speechless and astonished. 
 
 The madre approached him, bearing 
 a light. — " Come, come, my love, arouse 
 yourself, for soon will the morning 
 dawn." 
 
 She took his hand — he made not the 
 smallest resistance, and she led him in 
 silence from the apartment. 
 
 As they entered the corridor, the 
 damp air struck chillingly through his 
 veins, and at that moment he became 
 sensible that all was indeed a reality. 
 They gained the long avenue, when the 
 madre stopped, and directing the conte 
 to continue to the end, and then cross 
 the uninhabited apartments, she desired 
 him to enter the ancient gallery, where 
 padre Ubaldo, she said, was in waiting 
 to conduct him from the convent. 
 
 Having 
 
THE ABBESS. 197 
 
 Having lavished the most affectionate 
 caresses on a being who now loathed 
 himself, and was insensible to her pas- 
 sion, she presented the taper to the 
 conte, who received it without uttering 
 a syllable. 
 
 t The abbess left him, and after a few 
 minutes' pause, the conte proceeded to 
 the end of the passage. He traversed 
 one of the apartments; but, on entering 
 the second, the strong current of wind 
 extinguished the light, and left him in 
 utter darkness. He held the madre in 
 too much detestation to return again to 
 that chamber, where he had spent the 
 night ; nay, he had predetermined in 
 his own mind never more to enter it. 
 He therefore resolved to find out the 
 door, if possible; but should his endea- 
 vours prove unsuccessful, he doubted 
 not but padre Ubaldo would come to 
 seek, and safely conduct him from the 
 monastery. 
 
 K3 He 
 
198 THE ABBESS. 
 
 He crossed to the opposite side of the 
 apartment, and, with some difficulty, 
 found a door; he forced it open, and 
 proceeded onwards; but it did not com- 
 municate with any other chamber, as 
 he found himself in a damp, narrow 
 passage. The conte determined to con- 
 tinue ; " for, at least," thought he, " I 
 can but return. He slowly moved for- 
 wards for a considerable time, when he 
 gained a stone staircase, which he de- 
 scended ; but was soon arrested in his 
 course by a large iron grate. The conte, 
 after some labour, unfastened the bolt — 
 it creaked on its rusty hinges. He en- 
 tered a stone hall, which appeared to be 
 of large dimension : this he traversed, 
 and, on the opposite side, found a door. 
 As he opened it, a voice struck his ear ; 
 he listened attentively, and heard the 
 most melodious sounds. After some 
 minutes, he determined to proceed. 
 Now the strain died away, and all re- 
 mained drear and silent. — " Whence 
 
 could 
 
THE ABBESS. 199 
 
 could issue those notes," exclaimed the 
 conte, " at this early hour?" 
 
 He continued onwards for some time, 
 unconscious whither his steps would 
 lead him. Again the same heavenly 
 harmony floated on the air ; it appeared 
 at no great distance : he proceeded with 
 caution towards that side of the cham- 
 ber ; now he distinguished words. His 
 eye caught a crevice in the wainscot 
 near the floor, which emitted a faint 
 gleam of light ; he approached, and 
 found it to be a moving panel, which 
 communicated with another chamber: 
 still the same voice continued; he listen- 
 ed attentively, and distinctly heard the 
 stanza of a solemn hymn, chanted with 
 pathetic sweetness. He cautiously shift- 
 ed the panel, and found a black cloth 
 suspended, which nearly reached the 
 ground. He stooped to raise it, when 
 it suddenly gave way and fell. The 
 conte was fearful, lest that incident 
 K 4 should 
 
200 THE ABBESS. 
 
 should alarm the person within ; never- 
 theless, to his infinite surprise, the voice 
 still went on, without the least inter- 
 ruption. He then found himself in a 
 large apartment, the wainscot of which 
 was covered with black hangings. From 
 the centre of the cieling was suspended 
 a lamp, that diffused a dim light, disco- 
 vering to the astonished conte a female 
 on her knees, from whose lips the har- 
 monious strains he had heard still con- 
 tinued to flow. He could not at that 
 distance discern her countenance; his 
 mind became inspired with a secret awe 
 — the gloomy scene before him, con- 
 trasted with the luxurious apartment he 
 had so lately quitted, struck him forcibly, 
 with a painful sense of his past folly. 
 As he continued to gaze on the mourn- 
 ful object before him, he felt a secret in- 
 spiration, and, yielding to the divine 
 glow of religion, remained rivetted to 
 the spot. The female at length arose, 
 and slowly paced to and fro the cham- 
 ber. 
 
THE ABBESS. 201 
 
 ber, waving her hand, as in the act of 
 strewing flowers. As she passed be- 
 neath the lamp, its faint gleam struck 
 upon her face. — " Good heavens !" ex- 
 claimed the conte, " I cannot be mis- 
 taken r 
 
 He advanced a few paces — it was no 
 delusion — the female was indeed Mad- 
 dalena Rosa. She was habited in a loose 
 flowing garment; her glossy hair par- 
 tially concealed beneath a white silk net ; 
 on her right arm w^as suspended by a 
 ribband a small gold cross, which she 
 frequently pressed to her roseate lips. 
 The conte continued to advance; he mi- 
 nutely observed her features, but his as- 
 tonishment is not to be conceived, when 
 she appeared unconscious of his pre- 
 sence, being wholly occupied in her own 
 meditations. Maddalena paused ; when 
 the conte, advancing still nearer, per- 
 ceived that she was in a profound sleep. 
 Ah ! how he wished he could, without 
 K 5 alarming 
 
202 THE ABBESS. 
 
 alarming her, behold those beauteous 
 eyes unclosed! Still she continued to 
 wave her delicate hand : the conte could 
 no longer refrain — he gently seized and 
 pressed it to his lips. She started from 
 his touch, and, uttering a faint scream, 
 fell senseless into his arms. He gazed 
 on her with the tenderest solicitude. 
 Some minutes elapsed ere she recovered ; 
 her soft expressive eyes opening, met 
 those of the conte, whose looks betrayed 
 the anxious emotion of his breast : blush- 
 ing, with her hand she hid her face. 
 The conte, dropping on his knee, ex- 
 claimed — " Oh, pardon me, thou sainted 
 excellence! see at thy feet the presump- 
 tuous man that dares adore thee ! yes, 
 angelic Maddalena, view the wretched 
 mortal, whose happiness vanished on 
 beholding thee, whose breast has never 
 since resumed its wonted calmness. 
 Oh ! let thine eye be tempered with a 
 gentle ray of pity ! doom me not at one 
 glance to eternal misery ! This intru- 
 sion 
 
THE ABBESS. 203 
 
 sion was not concerted — chance led me 
 to the spot ; yet can I not arraign the 
 accident, that has thus afforded me the 
 pleasing opportunity of confessing my 
 pure and unalterable love." 
 
 Maddalena, confused, withdrew her 
 hand, which the conte had pressed be- 
 tween his. — " I beseech you, signor, rise 
 from this suppliant posture, and instant- 
 ly leave me." 
 
 " Never," cried the conte, " till I ob- 
 tain your forgiveness, for thus unde- 
 signedly breaking upon your medita- 
 tion. Benignity marks that counte- 
 nance divine — Charity, that godlike at- 
 tribute, which immortalizes weak man, 
 sits enthroned within that breast. Pity 
 holds her crystal seat within that hea- 
 venly eye — she bids thee melt — she 
 wills thee to forgive my fault, and alle- 
 viate my misery." 
 
 " If your intrusion, signor, was unin- 
 tentional, why should you entreat my 
 pardon ? but, to convince me it was 
 K 6 really 
 
204 THE ABBESS. 
 
 really so, I request that you will in- 
 stantly retire." 
 
 " Ob, stern and cruel Virtue, how 
 my soul adores thee for the very pangs 
 thou dost inflict ! Yes, Maddalena, I 
 will instantly obey you ; for I, alas ! 
 have no claim on your affection. The 
 presumption rather merits your resent- 
 ment. Farewell ! To your keeping I 
 entrust my heart, my life. ■" 
 
 The conte was proceeding towards 
 the door by which he had entered ; he 
 heard a noise — he stopped — but all was 
 silent. Turning towards Maddalena, 
 he beheld her pale and trembling ; he 
 could not withstand the sight, but flew 
 to her relief — " Be not alarmed," said 
 he, " 'twas nought but the wind, that 
 howled along the gallery, or closed some 
 distant door. Oh ! calm your perturbed 
 feelings, lovely Maddalena." 
 
 " It was the sound of footsteps, sig- 
 ner. Gracious Heaven ! should I be 
 
 discovered 
 
THE ABBESS. 205 
 
 discovered at this unseasonable hour, 
 and in your company, what have I not 
 to dread from the madre Vittoria's ven- 
 geance ! what from " 
 
 " The madre !" interrupted the conte. 
 
 Her name had brought the late 
 shameful scene full to his recollection : 
 the colour forsook his cheek, he bent his 
 eyes to the ground, as unworthy to gaze 
 on the chaste object before him. 
 
 " Yet," continued he, after a pause, 
 " answer me one question. Has the 
 madre more power over you than on 
 any boarder in the convent ?" 
 
 " What mean you, signor, by this 
 interrogatory ?" returned Maddalena. 
 
 " Does the duca Bertocci destine you 
 to embrace a monastic life ?" 
 
 " Signor, my father's intentions re- 
 specting myself I am totally unac- 
 quainted with ; but, whatsoever they 
 
 be, 
 
206 THE ABBESS. 
 
 be, his daughter, I trust, will never 
 scruple to obey them." 
 
 At that moment the abbey-clock tol- 
 led five. Again the sound of footsteps 
 was heard ; a faint light gleaming at a 
 distance seemed to discover, through 
 the doorway, the ghastly features of the 
 padre Ubaldo. Maddalena was petrified 
 with fear, and the conte's soul agitated 
 with a thousand contending emotions — 
 he stood mute and motionless. The 
 light glided away, the countenance dis- 
 appeared, and all was hushed. 
 
 Maddalena soon regained her forti- 
 tude, and was quitting the chamber, 
 when the entrance of the madre Vitto- 
 ria, followed by the monk Ubaldo, ar- 
 rested her course ! The conte retired a 
 few paces, and Maddalena was rivetted 
 to the spot ! 
 
 The abbess slowly advanced, with 
 
 haughty 
 
THE ABBESS. 207 
 
 haughty and measured step. She alter- 
 nately gazed on them, while a dreadful 
 expression of disappointment, malignity, 
 and revenge, marked every feature. — 
 " Who are you, signor ?" said she, in 
 an imperious tone; " and how have you 
 gained admittance here ? Know you 
 the sacred spot on which your unhal- 
 lowed feet have dared to tread ?" 
 
 The conte, at this interrogatory, eyed 
 her with a look of contempt, and then 
 bent his regard to the ground. 
 
 " Tell me," continued the madre, in a 
 commanding voice, " how did you en- 
 ter ?" She paused awhile. " Signor, 
 you shall repent and tremble for this 
 contemptuous silence. Know, that I 
 am the lady abbess of the convent of 
 Santa Maria, the superior of this holy 
 mansion, which you have dared to pro- 
 fane; and learn, too, that your kind 
 portress shall not escape my insulted 
 
 dignity. 
 
208 THE ABBESS. 
 
 dignity. You, Maddalena Rosa — you, 
 who have infringed every law of this 
 spot, devoted only to purity — you, guilty 
 wretch, shall feel the punishment due to 
 your heinous crime." 
 
 " 'Tis too much," cried the conte : 
 " dare you to brand this pure innocent 
 with the name of guilt? — she, who is 
 spotless as the saint to whom your con- 
 vent is devoted ? I gained admittance 
 here myself — I had no assistant." 
 
 " Hold, signor !" cried the madre, ex- 
 ultingly — " swear to me by the Most 
 High, that no one was concerned with 
 you, and I will instantly pardon the of- 
 fence." 
 
 The conte was confounded ; his dread- 
 ful oath compelled his silence, though 
 he beheld the very persons who had in- 
 volved him in this dilemma. 
 
 " How, signor !" continued the ma- 
 dre, with a sneer, " are you then mute? 
 
 have 
 
THE ABBESS. 209 
 
 have you not one word to say in your 
 behalf?" 
 
 " Yes, I could recount a volume," ex- 
 claimed the conte, with vehemence; 
 when, lowering his voice, and fixing his 
 penetrating eyes on the madre, he con- 
 tinued — " but that this place is ill cal- 
 culated for the recital. Know, that I, 
 the conte Marcello Porta, urged on by 
 love, have been guilty of duplicity, 
 which my soul shudders to avow. I 
 have been compelled to prostitute my 
 noblest feelings to the gratification of a 
 vicious appetite, and to blind a furious 
 woman." 
 
 The madre stifled her feelings be- 
 neath a feigned smile of contempt. 
 
 " Signor, prudence should have taught 
 you to be silent. You may retire to 
 your chamber, donna Maddalena — do 
 you, padre Ubaldo, conduct her thither." 
 She bowed her head to the madre, and 
 
 as 
 
210 THE ABBESS. 
 
 as she quitted the chamber, cast a look 
 of inexpressible tenderness and anxiety 
 towards the conte, which did not escape 
 the enraged madre. 
 
 The conte's eyes were fixed upon her, 
 till she disappeared; when the abbess 
 approached, and seized his arm, exclaim- 
 ing — " Vile hypocrite ! let her form still 
 dance before your love-sick fancy — learn 
 from me, that Maddalena Rosa is lost to 
 you for ever." 
 
 " You will excuse me, madre, if I 
 doubt you in this particular. I shall 
 make known my passion for Maddalena 
 to the duca Bertocci. I am her equal, 
 and if she reject me not, spite of your 
 machinations, she shall be mine." 
 
 " Vain man, how I pity thy imbeci- 
 lity! how I despise myself for having 
 ever stooped to debase my affections, by 
 placing them on a being so contempt- 
 ible ! but every tender sentiment now is 
 fled — you have wounded my pride — you 
 have stung me to the quick, and shall 
 
 feel 
 
THE ABBESS. 211 
 
 feel the power of my vengeance. Every 
 scheme that hell can suggest to an in- 
 jured and despised woman, shall be put 
 in practice to destroy you ; and, know, 
 I have you in my power, and her, whose 
 existence you prize beyond your own. 
 Should even my plots fail to separate 
 you and your detested love, I will cite 
 you before the Holy Inquisition, that 
 terrible tribunal ! I will myself appear 
 against you, and tax you with sacrile- 
 giously entering the convent, with in- 
 tent to carry off one of its inhabitants. 
 I will name your Maddalena as an ac- 
 complice ; nor shall your profanation be 
 forgot, in daring to style her as imma- 
 culate as the sainted patroness of this 
 community. I will behold your tor- 
 tures — I will enjoy them — for well I 
 know you dare not violate your sacred 
 oath. For the present, I shall mock 
 you with a show of liberty, like some 
 poor harmless bird, whose prison-door is 
 open wide, but cannot 'scape, his wings 
 
 being 
 
212 THE ABBESS. 
 
 being clipped. Now, signer, I leave 
 you to your meditations. The padre 
 Ubaldo approaches — he will conduct 
 you hence." 
 
 " Yet, hear me for a moment," cried 
 the conte. 
 
 The madre paused. 
 
 " Oh ! let your vengeance fall on me; 
 but spare, oh, spare the guiltless Mad- 
 dalena !" 
 
 The madre, with an ironical sneer, 
 turned to the monk, who had by this 
 time entered. — " You will conduct the 
 signor hence." 
 
 The conte would have resumed his 
 petition, but the madre quitted the 
 chamber without paying him the least 
 attention. The padre then informed 
 him that he waited his pleasure. The 
 conte followed in silence, and was soon 
 conducted without the convent walls. 
 With a heavy heart he proceeded to the 
 
 palace 
 
THE ABBESS. 213 
 
 palace of M arcello Porta, and throwing 
 himself on a couch, yielded to the ago- 
 nizing feelings that agitated his troubled 
 mind. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
214 THE ABBESS. 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 ' Oh, drive me from that traitor, Man ! 
 
 So I might 'scape that monster, let me dwell 
 In lions' haunts, or in some tiger's den ! 
 Place me on some steep, craggy, ruin'd rock. 
 That bellies out, just dropping in the ocean : 
 Bury me in the hollow of its womb, 
 Where, starving on my cold and flinty bed, 
 I may, from far, with giddy apprehension, 
 See infinite fathoms down the rumbling deep : 
 Yet not e'en there, in that vast whirl of death, 
 Can there be found so terrible a ruin. 
 As Man, false Man ! smiling, destructive Man ! 
 
 Lee. 
 
 Maddalena's heavy sleep was not dis- 
 turbed by the bustle which the female's 
 arrival had occasioned in the convent, 
 and she woke not the following morning 
 till after her usual hour. She descended 
 to prayers, where the madre was not 
 present ; and at their conclusion went 
 
 with 
 
THE ABBESS. 215 
 
 with one of the boarders into the 
 garden, from whom she learnt the 
 disturbance which had happened the 
 preceding night, and of the stranger's 
 arrival. The bell soon summoned them 
 to the refectory, and the l.dy abbess 
 shortly appeared, followed by a beau- 
 tiful young woman, whom she intro- 
 duced to the sisterhood, as a female who 
 sought in that convent a temporary asy- 
 lum from the persecutions of the world. 
 She was of the middle stature, her 
 complexion inclining to the brunette. 
 Her eyes were large and expressive ; her 
 dark brown hair flowed in natural ring- 
 lets, and partially obscured her well- 
 turned neck. Her deportment was easy 
 and graceful ; there was, besides, a me- 
 lancholy cast in her features, that ren- 
 dered her appearance peculiarly inte- 
 resting. 
 
 The first moment she beheld her, 
 Maddalena felt a strong prepossession in 
 
 her 
 
216 THE ABBESS. 
 
 her favour. She sighed, and the big 
 tear stole down her cheek, as she recol- 
 lected her deceased friend, Marietta. 
 Perhaps, thought she, the all-bounteous 
 Creator has sent a pitying soul, that will 
 patiently lend an ear to nay sorrows, and 
 sympathize with me. 
 
 The madre approached the table, 
 where the boarders were ranged in their 
 places, and desired Giacinta (for such 
 was the stranger's name) to be seated ; 
 and the abbess soon after quitted the re- 
 fectory. The stranger had, from her 
 entrance, excited the gaze of the 
 sisterhood, and every eye was turned 
 towards her. Maddalena sat nearly op- 
 posite the place which she had taken. 
 Giacinta soon caught her gaze, and 
 was also struck with her appearance. 
 At the conclusion of the repast, as 
 Maddalena quitted the refectory, the 
 stranger passed her, and bent on her a 
 look of inexpressible tenderness. Mad- 
 dalena 
 
THE ABBESS. 217 
 
 dalena proceeded to the garden, whither 
 she was followed by the new comer, 
 who soon after accosted her, and they 
 entered into conversation. There was a 
 plaintive nnelody in her voice, that 
 charmed the hearer, and, added to the 
 interesting expression of her features, 
 insured Maddalena's regard, who, during 
 the discourse, ventured to inquire if 
 she meant to take up her abode in the 
 convent for any length of time. 
 
 Giacinta, with a sigh, replied, while a 
 tear started from her eye, that her resi- 
 dence there depended on circumstances ; 
 but that, in all probability, it would be 
 her fate to make that monastery her re- 
 sidence for ever. 
 
 Maddalena gazed on her with a look 
 of tender solicitude — " Ah," thought 
 she, " my mind whispers that thou art 
 unfortunate; alas! what pity it is that 
 a flower so fair and tender should droop 
 
 VOL. I. L its 
 
218 THE ABBESS. 
 
 its head beneath the untoward blast of 
 affliction !" 
 
 " Signora," cried Giacinta, pressing 
 Maddalena's hand, " you seem to pos- 
 sess a heart that will sympathize in 
 another's woes ! yes, if I augur true, I 
 have found one soul that will patiently 
 hear the voice of sorrow. My griefs in- 
 deed are many ; nay, they are sufficient 
 to overwhelm a frame so weak as mine." 
 She paused ; and her overcharged bosom 
 unburthened its affliction in a flood of 
 tears. Maddalena mingled the dew of 
 pity with hers. — " Yes," continued Gia- 
 cinta, " those gentle drops proclaim the 
 tenderness of your heart. I will confide 
 to you my sorrowful tale : my weary 
 head shall seek repose on your kind 
 breast." 
 
 " Oh that my feeble efforts may lull 
 your cares to rest, and for ever steep 
 them in oblivion! Yes, Giacinta, my 
 ear is open to receive thy sorrowing re- 
 lation — my heart is ready to pity it; 
 
 and. 
 
THE ABBESS. 219 
 
 and, to my utmost, I will joyfully en- 
 deavour to mitigate thy sufferings." 
 
 " Then meet me, my friend," hastily 
 replied Giacinta, " for by that tender 
 appellation I shall henceforth call you, 
 at this spot attend me, ere we retire to 
 rest. I cannot myself bear to relate my 
 own misfortunes — in your hands I will 
 entrust the manuscript which contains 
 the sad recital." 
 
 Maddalena promised to be punctual ; 
 and they shortly after separated, with 
 mutual professions of friendship : Mad- 
 dalena retired to her chamber, where 
 she continued during the day. The 
 gaudy sun now sunk behind the distant 
 hills — the grey mist of evening threw 
 a gloomy tint on the surrounding sce- 
 nery, and silence proclaimed the ap- 
 proach of night. She descended to the 
 garden, where she found Giacinta wait- 
 ing her arrival. — " This is most kind," 
 said she ; " this is the first proof of friend- 
 L 2 ship, 
 
220 THE ABBESS. 
 
 ship, for your punctuality shows that I 
 have, in some measure, occupied your 
 thoughts during the short term of our 
 absence. Here, Maddalena, are the 
 sheets which contain the relation, and 
 have been oftentimes blotted with my 
 tears; take them, my friend, and peruse 
 their sad contents; they will instruct 
 you how I have suffered, and with what 
 resignation I have supported my sor- 
 rows: when you have read them, you 
 will find me, I trust, not unworthy of 
 the regard you have bestowed upon me; 
 and, should you also have felt the nip- 
 ping blast of misfortune, they will teach 
 you to bear your ills with calmness and 
 resignation." 
 
 At the conclusion of these words, 
 Giacinta hastily retired, and Maddalena 
 returned to her chamber. She seated 
 herself, and placing the manuscript on 
 the table, exclaimed — " How unaccount- 
 able are the ways of Providence ! how 
 bountiful is the all-powerful God to us 
 
 his 
 
THE ABBESS. 221 
 
 his frail creatures ! 'Tvvas but yesterday 
 that the remains of a loved friend were 
 consigned to their nriother earth, and 
 this day's sun has lighted me to a second 
 object, whose appearance vouches for 
 the purity of her heart, who places her 
 sole confidence in me, and whose sor- 
 rows I am bound to soothe. Yes, thou 
 art beneficent, Almighty Creator! thy 
 power is supreme — thy works are in- 
 comprehensible! thou comfortest those 
 who seek the shadow of thy mercy — 
 thou art father to the friendless — the 
 orphan's tears, the widow's sighs, the 
 captive's moan, and the guilty man's 
 repentant prayer, all ascend to thy 
 mercy-seat! Yes, Marietta, thy coun- 
 sels were just." Maddalena drew from 
 her bosom the golden cross — ** Oh ! may 
 I have found a second female, who imi- 
 tates thy angelic virtues ! may she pos- 
 sess thy piety, fortitude, and charity! 
 may her counsels be just as thine were, 
 and may thy Maddalena comfort her 
 L 3 afflicted 
 
222 THE ABBESS. 
 
 afflicted spirit ! Yes, thou art now, 
 perhaps, with me ; perchance thy winged 
 spirit hath left its blissful mansion, and 
 now hovers round thy Maddalena. Hark, 
 that sound, perchance, is not the nightly 
 breeze, but the sighs of my Marietta ! 
 and yet the pale orb of night now throws 
 her silvery gleam upon my chamber, 
 and I see thee not. Why remain'st 
 thou invisible? Must I then never 
 more behold thy form ?" 
 
 Maddalena continued this melancholy 
 strain, till all was hushed within the 
 convent. She forgot Giacinta's manu- 
 script, and, at a late hour, without un- 
 dressing, threw herself on the couch. 
 The downy balm of sleep soon stole 
 upon her senses, and in her dreams, she 
 still thought of Marietta. Delusive 
 fancy painted to her wandering imagi- 
 nation the form of her friend, still ex- 
 posed in the grated chamber, as on the 
 preceding day. She thought the sister- 
 hood 
 
THE ABBESS. 223 
 
 hood strewed flowers over the pale corse 
 — unconsciously she arose, and descended 
 to the very apartment where she had 
 been discovered by the conte. 
 
 The padre Ubaldo, in compliance 
 with the command of the lady abbess, 
 conducted Maddalena in silence to her 
 chamber. As she entered, the ray of 
 light from the lamp which she bore, re- 
 fleeted full upon the monk's counte- 
 nance, and she observed that his scowling 
 eyes were bent full upon her. He closed 
 the door without uttering a word, and 
 retired. She instantly fell on her knees, 
 and recommending herself to the pro- 
 tection of the Almighty, continued in 
 earnest prayer, till the entrance of sister 
 Beatrice, who came to summon her into 
 the madre's presence. 
 
 The blushing east proclaimed the sun's 
 
 approach, as she quitted her chamber ; 
 
 Maddalena followed the nun, who si- 
 
 L 4 lently 
 
224 THE ABBESS. 
 
 lently led her into the chamber of the 
 lady abbess, who was there to receive 
 her. She, for some time, eyed Madda- 
 lena malignantly, whilst every moment 
 heightened the rage that already marked 
 her countenance. The madre, in a pe- 
 remptory tone, at length addressed her 
 as follows: — " You cannot be unac- 
 quainted, Maddalena Rosa, with the 
 reasons that have induced me to sum- 
 mon you into my presence. Tell me, 
 how could you thus presumptuously 
 dare to infringe the rules of this man- 
 sion, sacred to chastity? Where did 
 you first behold the conte Marcello 
 Porta, whose sacrilegious person has pro- 
 faned the convent ? and how did he ob- 
 tain admission ?" 
 
 She was silent. Maddalena then re- 
 lated her having first seen him in the 
 church, on the Feast of the Annuncia- 
 tion. She described, in lively colours, 
 the strict friendship that had subsisted 
 between herself and Marietta ; her emo- 
 
 tions 
 
THE ABBESS. 225 
 
 tions at that nun's funeral, which, she 
 afterwards found, had so totally occupied 
 her senses in the night, as, during her 
 sleep, to lead her to the grated chamber, 
 where she was awakened by the conte 
 Marcello Porta, if such was the signor's 
 name — and solemnly protested her total 
 ignorance, as to every circumstance of 
 his gaining admittance. The abbess 
 smiled disdainfully, and turning to sis- 
 ter Beatrice, who was seated and writing 
 beside her, exclaimed—" Have vou no- 
 ted this most romantic story ?" 
 
 The nun answered in the affirmative; 
 when the madre again addressed herself 
 to Maddalena — '* And have you then 
 such daring effrontery? or are you so 
 hardened as thus to attempt to cover 
 your wickedness with a detested false- 
 hood ? Do you imagine that I possess 
 an understanding so weak, as to give 
 credence to this tale, devoid of every 
 thing like truth or probability. It is 
 an insult, young woman, I can scarcely 
 L 5 brook. 
 
226 THE ABBESS. 
 
 brook. If you had really been sleeping, 
 you would have quitted the chamber 
 with precipitation, as soon as the conte 
 had awakened you. But this was not 
 the case ; you could remain there, and 
 hold forbidden converse with him; and 
 you could hear his professions of love. 
 Oh, this is a most plausible tale ! you 
 were conveniently habited for the occa- 
 sion ! Shame ! shame ! that these holy 
 walls should harbour a creature so lost 
 to virtue ! Confess your crime — fall on 
 your knees — and beg forgiveness of of- 
 fended Heaven ; you may then, perhaps, 
 experience my lenity." 
 
 Maddalena, in a solemn voice, replied 
 — " I have no sin of that nature to con- 
 fess — I am guiltless of the charge al- 
 leged against me. Before the throne of 
 the Almighty, I offer up my cause ; for 
 He whose judgment is unerring, will 
 doubtless vindicate my injured inno- 
 cence." 
 
 The concluding words were uttered 
 
 with 
 
THE ABBESS. 227 
 
 with peculiar emphasis; the madre 
 could not resist their force, but remained 
 pensive for some minutes. At length, 
 suddenly arising, she exclaimed — " I 
 have heard enough ; reconduct her, Bea- 
 trice, to her apartment ; nor, at your 
 peril, suffer any one to approach her." 
 
 The madre was quitting the chamber. 
 — " Hold, madam," cried Maddalena, 
 with dignity ; " why should I thus be 
 debarred society ? — why is the daughter 
 of the duca Bertocci to be thus indig- 
 nantly treated ?" 
 
 " When a daughter of the duca," 
 retorted the abbess, " degrades herself 
 by adopting such mean deceptions con- 
 duct, she merits the most rigorous chas- 
 tisement." 
 
 " You are right, madam," continued 
 Maddalena ; " but till I am conscious 
 of such deceptions conduct, I shall not 
 patiently submit." 
 
 The madre was astonished at the spi- 
 L 6 rited 
 
 r 
 
228 THE ABBESS. 
 
 rited resolution that marked her deport- 
 ment. In a transport of rage, she quit- 
 ted the apartment, a thousand horrid 
 schemes of revenge boiHng in her bo- 
 som. The mahcious Beatrice instantly 
 led the devoted Maddalena to her cham- 
 ber. Having locked the door upon her, 
 the madre's orders were issued through- 
 out the convent, that no nun or boarder 
 whatever should dare approach her apart- 
 ment, on pain of the severest punish- 
 ment ; but the abbess thouocht it neces- 
 sary to conceal her motives for these 
 harsh measures. 
 
 Left to her own reflections, Madda- 
 lena gave vent to the tears she had so 
 long restrained. Though her mind dic- 
 tated how much appearances were a- 
 gainst her, yet she could not but think 
 the whole was a premeditated plot a- 
 gainst her, in which the lady abbess 
 was principally concerned. As she re- 
 collected the conte, this idea vanished ; 
 
 his 
 
THE ABBESS. 229 
 
 his manner was sincere — yes, she was 
 convinced he really adored her. How 
 then could he submit to be the agent of 
 so much baseness ? Yet his appearance 
 in the convent greatly astonished her. — 
 " It was not," said she to herself, " in 
 the hope of seeing me, that he gained 
 admittance here; for his intrusion, he 
 had asserted, was positively uninten- 
 tional ? What, then, could be the mo- 
 tive of his visit? Why was the padre 
 Ubaldo absent from the monastery of 
 Santa Croce at that unusual hour?" 
 She revolved in her mind every occur- 
 rence, the result of which was nothing 
 but doubt and perplexity. 
 
 On quitting Maddalena, the madre 
 had retired to her own apartment, where 
 she found the monk Ubaldo in waiting. 
 Having related the conference that had 
 so recently taken place, she required his 
 assistance in the plans of revenge requi- 
 site to be adopted. The padre appro- 
 ved 
 
230 THE ABBESS. 
 
 ved of the abbess's interrogatories, and 
 of her carefully noting Maddalena's an- 
 swers; and after pacing the chamber 
 for some time, with disturbed gesture, 
 the monk reseated himself — " An idea 
 has struck me, how you may give ven- 
 geance its full scope. Maddalena must 
 instantly depart this convent." 
 
 " And what will that avail ?" hastily 
 returned the abbess ; " she may then 
 defy my power." 
 
 " Hear me, madam," cried the sul- 
 len friar ; " Maddalena Rosa is daughter 
 to a duca; she is, besides, a boarder 
 here, and your authority over her is but 
 limited. Had she, indeed, been a pro- 
 fessed, you might have exercised your 
 authority to its fullest extent, though 
 she had derived her birth from the 
 greatest monarch; but now we must 
 proceed with caution. I will, this very 
 morning, visit the duca Bertocci, and 
 make him acquainted with our disco- 
 very. I will induce him to believe that 
 
 you 
 
THE ABBESS. tfl 
 
 you hold the act in such abhorrence, 
 that it is absolutely necessary, for the 
 honour of this sacred mansion, that his 
 daughter should instantly quit the walls. 
 I will then so far insinuate myself, that 
 he shall require my counsel; and I, 
 with seeming reluctance, will yield to 
 his entreaty. The duca possesses a cas- 
 tle at some distance from Florence ; thi- 
 ther will I advise him to send Madda- 
 lena Rosa, and there hold her in close 
 confinement. Yes, madam," cried the 
 monk, raising his eyes, which, till that 
 moment, had been rivetted to the earth, 
 " you shall then judge of my fidelity. 
 Your injured feelings shall be satiated 
 with vengeance ; you may then, in se- 
 cret, pursue your plans. I will be your 
 agent : through me you may inflict on 
 her the greatest curse — her father's ha- 
 tred ; for the duca is nice in honour, and 
 a most severe judge, in every point that 
 concerns the breach of female delicacy." 
 " Padre, your advice is just, and 
 
 must 
 
232 THE ABBESS. 
 
 must be pursued; nor shall the zeal 
 which you evince in this affair sleep in 
 my remembrance." 
 
 The monk arose, and, bowing his 
 head, departed for the palace of the 
 duca Bertocci, musing, as he went, on 
 the best method of imposing on his cre- 
 dulity, and infusing throughout the tale 
 he contemplated the most evident signs 
 of probability. Every man practising 
 deceit, how plausible soever his tale 
 may appear, always fears detection ; nor 
 was Ubaldo utterly free from this se- 
 cret dread, the constant attendant on 
 guilty actions. 
 
 On gaining the palace, he was con- 
 ducted to an apartment, where he 
 waited the duca's arrival. On his en- 
 trance, he observed the monk's counte- 
 nance, and thought his features not un- 
 familiar to him ; but the idea was tran- 
 sitory, and quickly vanished. When 
 
 they 
 
THE ABBESS. 233 
 
 they were seated, the duca requested to 
 know the business which had brought 
 him to his palace. 
 
 The padre remained silent for some 
 minutes ; an air of well-feigned grief 
 w^as depictured on his countenance, and 
 his eyes w^ere bent to the ground in 
 seeming dejection — " Noble duca," he 
 at length exclaimed, " I am deputed on 
 a business most painful to myself, and 
 heart-rending to your grace — an affair 
 which concerns you in the nicest point." 
 
 ** Concerns me !" interrupted the du- 
 ca, hastily. 
 
 " Yes, monsignor, it stains the honour 
 of your family, disgraces the holy vota- 
 ries of religion, and sacrilegiously offends 
 the Deity — 'tis from the madre Vittoria 
 I come, and of your daughter Madda- 
 lena I am compelled to speak." 
 
 " Of my child ! proceed, good father, 
 I beseech you." 
 
 The 
 
234 THE ABBESS. 
 
 The monk then, with dissembled sor- 
 row, related the suspicious interview 
 between Maddalena and the conte, with 
 every exaggeration that malice could 
 dictate. At this dreadful recital, a chiU 
 ling horror ran through the duca's veins 
 —a livid paleness o'erspread his counte- 
 nance — his lips quivered, and his whole 
 frame was in violent agitation. He 
 fixed his penetrating eyes on the visage 
 of the monk — he liked not his sombre 
 countenance. There appeared a some- 
 thing in the general character of his 
 features that inspired mistrust. — " Yet, 
 why should he impose upon me ?" said 
 the duca to himself; " what interest can 
 he have in vilifying Maddalena ?" 
 
 Conviction flashed upon his mind, 
 which conveyed inexpressible anguish 
 to his soul. He determined, notwith- 
 standing, to appear doubtful of the 
 truth, and thereby detect the falsehood, 
 if any had been practised. Drawing 
 
 his 
 
THE ABBESS. 235 
 
 his chair opposite the monk, and still 
 continuing to fix his eyes upon him, he 
 addressed him as follows : — " When the 
 reputation of a daughter is called in 
 question, a parent cannot be too minute 
 in his investigations. I pray you, father, 
 acquaint me with the means by which 
 my daughter obtained the keys of the 
 convent of Santa Maria." 
 
 The monk was not entirely prepared 
 for this interrogatory ; but his fertile 
 invention soon suggested a reply. 
 
 " Monsignor, had I not been acquaint- 
 ed with that circumstance, I should not 
 have presented myself before you. The 
 portress was bribed by the lady Madda- 
 lena ; and this morning, when the ma- 
 dre and myself discovered the conte> she 
 disappeared." 
 
 The duca rose from his seat, and tra- 
 versed the chamber with visible emotion. 
 
 "By 
 
236 THE ABBESS. 
 
 " By your interrogatory, monsignor, 
 I perceive that my veracity is question- 
 ed — it was never before called to ac- 
 count. But I am a poor monk — my 
 vows instruct me to bear insult patient- 
 ly, and I must submit." 
 
 The padre uttered these words with 
 such seeming humility, that the duca 
 relaxed in his suspicions. The monk, 
 observing this change, well knew the 
 conduct he should adopt, and artfully 
 rising from his seat, bowed, and pro- 
 ceeded to quit the apartment. 
 
 '' Stay, father," cried the duca, « I 
 have been over- hasty ; but excuse, I 
 beseech you, a fond parent's emotions." 
 
 The monk resumed his seat, while 
 the duca continued to pace the chamber, 
 often pressing his hand to his forehead, 
 and easing his o'ercharged bosom by ut- 
 tering convulsed groans. 
 
 " Monsignor, 
 
THE ABBESS. 237 
 
 " Monsignor, we are all prone to er- 
 ror — regard, I pray you, this fault of 
 the lady Maddalena with less passion ; 
 perchance the blame lies wholly with 
 the conte." 
 
 " And what if it proves so ?" ex- 
 claimed the duca ; " her conduct has, 
 nevertheless, been culpable in the ex- 
 treme. She was discovered in his com- 
 pany, at an improper hour; but she 
 shall repent the shameful step. If she 
 really loves the conte, why not rely on 
 my affection ? Have I been other than 
 an indulgent father ? Have I not told 
 her that I would never check her affec- 
 tions, provided they were placed on a 
 meritorious object ? and to return my 
 love with such base ingratitude, is not 
 to be borne with any degree of patience. 
 Did you not say further that she must 
 leave the convent ?" 
 
 " Yes, monsignor, it is the madre*s 
 particular desire." 
 
 " And shall be instantly complied 
 
 with," 
 
238 THE ABBESS. 
 
 with," continued the duea. " Yes, I 
 will immediately convey her to some 
 far-distant monastery, where the conte 
 shall never trace her." 
 
 " Excuse me, monsignor," said the 
 monk, '* but youth is indefatigable in 
 pursuit of the object it is desirous to at- 
 tain. Marcello is a nobleman, and rich ; 
 were his researches to prove effectual, 
 gold has powerful attractions ; and by 
 its means, he might perhaps counteract 
 your prudent designs. Have you no 
 servants in whom you can confide ? no 
 distant castello on any of your estates, 
 where your daughter may safely remain 
 concealed ?" 
 
 The duca stood musing for some mi- 
 nutes, and at length exclaimed — " Yes, 
 yes, it shall be so ! I thank you, padre, 
 for the counsel. This night she shall 
 depart the convent of Santa Maria ; 
 therefore, if it so please you, return in- 
 stantly to the lady abbess, and notify 
 my intention. Bid her prepare every 
 
 thing 
 
THE ABBESS. 239 
 
 thing for my daughter's speedy journey ; 
 by twelve this night a carriage shall be 
 in waiting to receive her at the convent 
 gate." 
 
 The padre bowed his head in token 
 of assent, and immediately quitted the 
 palace. 
 
 On his departure, the duca yielded 
 himself to those agonizing feelings, which 
 every susceptible parent must experience 
 on such an occasion. 
 
 " And have I then borne with resig- 
 nation the loss of an adored wife ? — Did 
 I survive an only son, to whom I look- 
 ed forward as the supporter of my dig- 
 nities, and whose virtues I fondly ima- 
 gined would add to the lustre of his no- 
 ble progenitors? — Did I bear all this 
 with fortitude, to find at length a daugh- 
 ter, who possessed my whole esteem, 
 unworthy of my affections?" 
 
 These 
 
240 THE ABBESS. 
 
 These were the thoughts that tore the 
 heart of the most amiable of men, 
 through the malicious fabrications of the 
 guilty abbess and her detestable abettor, 
 the monk Ubaldo. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
THE ABBESS. 241 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 ** I love thee with so strange a purity, 
 
 That the bless'd gods, angry with ray devotions, 
 
 More bright in zeal than that I pay their altars, 
 
 Will take thee from ray sight. 
 
 We've not an hour allow'd for taking leave ; 
 
 Ev'n that's bereft us too : our envious fates 
 
 Justle betwixt, and part the dear adieus." 
 
 The reflections of Maddalena were in- 
 terrupted by a gentle tap at the door. 
 On her inquiring who was without, she 
 was answered by the gentle Giacinta. 
 
 " Alas, my friend," cried Maddalena, 
 " I cannot admit you. I am a prisoner 
 in my chamber, on a false accusation." 
 
 Giacinta was astonished at this intel- 
 ligence, being in her private cell at the 
 time the madre's command was issued. 
 
 VOL. I. M Hear- 
 
M2 THE ABBESS. 
 
 Hearing the approach of footsteps, she 
 hastened from the door ; which was, 
 shortly after, opened by sister Beatrice, 
 who entered with some refreshment. 
 Having placed it on the table, she re- 
 tired, cautiously securing the door after 
 her. 
 
 Maddalena passed the remaining part 
 of the day in the most dreadful state of 
 disquietude. Wearied at length by the 
 conflicting emotions of her breast, she 
 yielded to the potency of sleep, that 
 kindly stole upon her perturbed senses. 
 
 As the clock struck one, she was awa- 
 kened by a loud knocking at her door, 
 accompanied by the voice of sister Bea- 
 trice, who bade her instantly arise, and 
 prepare for a journey. The astonish- 
 ment which this summons occasioned, 
 prevented her from obeying, for some 
 time, the hasty command ; and it was 
 not till Beatrice had a second time ap- 
 peared, 
 
THE ABBESS. 243 
 
 peared, that she was ready to attend her. 
 Maddalena tremblingly followed her 
 steps to the outward parlour of the con- 
 vent. She wished to have seen Giacin- 
 ta, ere she departed, but knew that this 
 was wholly impracticable. Beatrice, it 
 is true, might have rendered her this 
 service ; but she disdained to solicit a 
 favour from a person she had so little 
 cause to esteem. 
 
 On entering the apartment, she be- 
 held two strangers, who, she learned, 
 were to attend her on the Journey. A 
 lay-sister then brought in a collation, of 
 which Maddalena declined partaking, 
 and addressing herself to the strangers, she 
 requested to know by whose command 
 she was compelled to quit the convent, 
 and whither they intended to convey 
 her. She received for answer, that it 
 was her father's command ; but the place 
 of her destination they were not at li- 
 berty to disclose. Maddalena instantly 
 M 2 con- 
 
^44 THE ABBESS. 
 
 conjectured the cause of this journey, 
 and conscious how vain it would be to 
 dispute the duca's commands, she re- 
 mained silent. 
 
 As her conductors were preparing to 
 lead her to the carriage, the door of the 
 apartment was thrown open, and Gia- 
 cinta appeared. The chamber of this 
 boarder being but at a small distance 
 from Maddalena's, she had heard Bea- 
 trice's last summons, and instantly dress- 
 ing herself, prepared to bid her adieu — 
 " For perhaps," thought she, this may 
 be the last time I shall behold her." On 
 entering, Beatrice rose, and ordered her 
 immediately to retire. Giacinta paid 
 no attention to this haughty mandate : 
 her arms were open, and Maddalena 
 flew to receive her embrace. — " I shall 
 now," said she, " quit these venerable 
 walls in peace, since Heaven has blessed 
 me with thy wished-for presence." 
 
 She paused, while dewy tears coursed 
 
 down 
 
THE ABBESS. 245 
 
 down each lovely cheek. — " Oh, tell 
 me," cried Giacinta, " why are you thus 
 torn from me ? why am I denied the 
 comfort of your sympathizing friend- 
 ship ? why am I bereaved of you, my 
 only remaining consolation ? how many 
 days of tranquil happiness did I flatter 
 myself we should enjoy together ! yet 
 I once more wake from these delusive 
 dreams to wretchedness and grief Yes, 
 Giacinta is the child of endless sorrow!" 
 
 " Judge not so rashly," cried Madda- 
 lena: " the Almighty is just: arraign 
 not his infinite goodness — he has hidden 
 joys for thee : cast thy cares on him, 
 and happiness shall yet be thine." 
 
 " That is indeed my only comfort," 
 exclaimed Giacinta ; " there is a world 
 to come, unchequered by misfortune, 
 where 1 sliall enjoy a bliss unclouded." 
 
 Beatrice sullenly remarked, that time 
 wore apace, and it was absolutely ne- 
 cessary that Maddalena should be gone. 
 Giacinta, being as yet unacquainted with 
 M 3 this 
 
246 THE ABBESS. 
 
 this nun's character, viewed her with 
 astonishment; while Maddalena, glan- 
 cing towards her a look of contempt, 
 replied — " It is not the first time, sister 
 Beatrice, that I have experienced your 
 kindness." Then turning to Giacinta, 
 she continued — " But we must part, 
 my friend ; yet, ere I leave these walls 
 for ever, one thing I have to tell thee. 
 Whatever thou shalt hereafter learn re- 
 specting the cause of my departure, be- 
 lieve it not : I quit this venerable man- 
 sion, innocent of the base charges al- 
 leged against me ; nor would I survive 
 the indelible stain such a proceeding 
 would have heaped upon my name." 
 
 " Fear not, Maddalena; I can cre- 
 dit no tale to thy detriment ; and though 
 calumny may, for a time, brand thy vir- 
 tuous character with shame, yet, in the 
 end, be sure it will burst forth with re- 
 doubled lustre, and blast the infamous 
 defamer. Farewell then ; take with 
 thee thy Giacinta's unalterable regard." 
 
 The 
 
THE ABBESS. 247 
 
 The trembling drop of sorrow glit- 
 tered on her polished cheek, as she pres- 
 sed Maddalena to her throbbing bosom. 
 Again they bade each other a tender 
 adieu, when she was conducted to the 
 carriage, which immediately drove off 
 with the utmost velocity. 
 
 As she caught a last glimpse of the 
 abode of her former happiness, the poig- 
 nancy of her feelings quite overpowered 
 her, and she gave way to a flood of tears. 
 The vehicle continued to proceed at this 
 swift pace during the remainder of the 
 night, the horses being several times 
 changed ; and during this period a va- 
 riety of painful ideas crowded on Mad- 
 dalena's brain. 
 
 As the first grey tint of morning 
 rose above the horizon, she experienced 
 a sensation of mingled pleasure and 
 melancholy. She saluted with a smile 
 this forerunner of day. Now the faint 
 M 4 rosy 
 
MS THE ABBESS. 
 
 rosy tinge appears, which gradually 
 increases, till the azure vault is laced 
 with crimson streaks. These recede 
 before the saffron carpet, that widely 
 spreads itself throughout the east. A 
 ray of gold next rears its glittering 
 point. Swiftly it rises, diffusing a bright 
 gleam of light. The resplendent sun 
 now shows his front magnificent ; the 
 fiery globe immense rolls through the 
 wide expanse, before whose radiance 
 the dew that hangs at heaven's wide 
 portal melts, diffusing sweets ambrosial. 
 — Such was the glorious scene that 
 wholly occupied Maddalena's attention. 
 What ideas of Omniscient Greatness did 
 they not inspire ! — " Ah [" thought she, 
 " if the Almighty suffers weak man to 
 view such sights as these, what must the 
 virtuous spirits enjoy under his imme- 
 diate protection ? They must reside in 
 yon azure heaven, where golden groves, 
 gently agitated by the perfumed air, 
 strew pearls transparent on the aerial 
 
 path 
 
THE ABBESS. !2^ 
 
 path they tread. They must bathe in 
 crystal streams, more sweet than dew 
 upon the bosom of the blushing rose — 
 translucent streams, whose channels gHt- 
 ter with the diamond's blaze. They 
 must repose on beds delicate as their ce- 
 lestial forms, on new-plucked leaves of 
 lily and carnation, whose varied tints 
 accord with their complexion." 
 
 Thus did Maddalena's warm imagi- 
 nation wander to scenes for ever veiled 
 from mortal eyes. The carriage at 
 length stopped, and one of her con- 
 ductors rode up, and informed her that 
 it was necessary she should take some 
 refreshment, ere they proceeded on their 
 route. She declined alighting, and one 
 of the attendants entered the house be- 
 fore which they had stopped. When 
 she inquired of his companion, who 
 stood at the door of the carriage, con- 
 cerning the duration of their journey, 
 he informed her, that they must use dis- 
 patch, to attain the place of their desti- 
 nation before the close of day. 
 
 The 
 
250 THE ABBESS. 
 
 The domestic returned, when Mad- 
 dalena having sparingly partaken of the 
 offered refreshment, the door was closed, 
 when her conductors instantly mounted, 
 and recommenced their route. 
 
 Maddalena's thoughts now wandered 
 to Marietta. She retraced every scene 
 of joy they had experienced together. — 
 She recurred to her dying words. — 
 " Yes," thought she, " thy foreboding 
 was just: thy Maddalena must undergo 
 many afflictions ; yet will she remember 
 thy counsels." That moment, drawing 
 the cross from her bosom, she kissed and 
 bedewed it with her tears. 
 
 Now, the recollection of Giacinta 
 crossed her mind : she was desirous to 
 peruse the manuscript, but in her hurry, 
 had inclosed it, with many other papers, 
 in her portmanteau. The conte, next, 
 occupied her fancy : again she pictured 
 to herself his elegant person, as he ap- 
 peared in the church of Santa Maria ; 
 again, she beheld him on his knees be- 
 fore her, pleading the ardency of his 
 
 affection. 
 
THE ABBESS. ^51 
 
 affection. She recalled his every word, 
 his every look, and was surprised, as 
 inwardly she turned her thoughts, to 
 perceive that he had so much engrossed 
 her attention, and blushed to feel how 
 much she loved him. Now the vindic- 
 tive abbess, and the treacherous monk 
 Ubaldo, rose before her. See portrayed 
 to her imagination the exaggerated tale 
 of designing malice, which must have 
 poisoned her father's mind against her. 
 
 Thus the day passed, till the sun was 
 fast sinking into the bosom of the west. 
 A warm tinge coloured the leafy trees, 
 the birds no longer carolled forth their 
 cheerful notes : they were retired to 
 their moss-wove beds; for, with the sun 
 they rose, and with it sunk to rest. — 
 The carriage moved slowly onwards, and 
 ascended a steep acclivity. On attaining 
 its summit, the drivers halted to give 
 their horses breath. Maddalena beheld 
 from this eminence a gloomy scene be- 
 fore her. 
 
 The last rays of the setting sun gleam- 
 ed 
 
252 THE ABBESS. 
 
 ed faintly on a most extensive forest, 
 whither the winding road, by which 
 they were to descend, seemed to lead. 
 The rest was a barren waste, that ex- 
 tended as far as the eye could discern, 
 and the distance was involved in the grey 
 tint of evening. Maddalena distinguish- 
 ed what appeared to her the lofty turrets 
 of a castello, that seemed to lord it over 
 this dreary scene. The wind was bleak ; 
 Maddalena felt its infliience, and drew 
 up the window of the carriage, which 
 again moved swiftly forward. 
 
 As they entered the tufted forest, all 
 was darkness; for when the sun was in 
 his noontide splendour, its radiant beams 
 with difficulty pierced the thick branches 
 which had fantastically woven them- 
 selves, and formed a roof almost impe- 
 netrable. They journeyed on for a con- 
 siderable time, when Maddalena sud- 
 denly started, at hearing a clock, at no 
 great distance, strike the hour. The 
 Knell was dismal; and between each 
 
 stroke. 
 
THE ABBESS. 253 
 
 stroke, there was a solemn pause, that 
 conveyed an inexpressible sensation to 
 Maddalena's bosom. 
 
 The vehicle, shortly after, stopped be- 
 fore the gate of an antiquated castello, 
 on which the moon, at that moment, 
 threw her silvery beams. The surround- 
 ing moat was broad, and amply supplied 
 with water, which reflected the black 
 shade of the half-raised drawbridge. 
 One of the domestics attempted to 
 sound the bell, but rust had rendered it 
 immoveable. Havino: no other means 
 of making their arrival known to the 
 inhabitants of this mansion, the two 
 domestics, the drivers, and another ser- 
 vant, who had also followed the carriage 
 on horseback, called lustily to the por- 
 ter. The echo of their voices rever- 
 berated, and made the solemn stillness 
 that succeeded truly awful. After a 
 few seconds they were answered from 
 within : the drawbridge was lowered, 
 and the carriage moved slowly into the 
 
 first 
 
254 THE ABBESS. 
 
 first court of the castello. Maddalena 
 alighted, and was conducted by a young 
 woman into an apartment where re- 
 freshments were already arranged, and 
 every thing seemingly prepared for her 
 arrival. 
 
 " You were apprized, young woman, 
 of my journey hither," said Maddalena, 
 addressing her. 
 
 ** Yes, my lady, a messenger from the 
 duca arrived here some five hours since; 
 he was so jaded with hard riding, that, 
 having delivered our master's orders, he 
 begged that he might retire to rest ; 
 and though we pressed him to take 
 some refreshment, he would not listen 
 to our entreaties." 
 
 " Are there many domestics in the 
 castello ?" 
 
 " No, my lady, there is none, save 
 my father and myself." 
 
 Maddalena then motioned her to quit 
 the chamber. When alone, she ex- 
 claimed — " Here then I must remain a 
 
 solitary 
 
THE ABBESS. 255 
 
 solitary outcast, debarred from all social 
 intercourse, without one friend to en- 
 liven the dull monotony of the scene. 
 If I wish to converse, to these antiqua- 
 ted portraits of my ancestors 1 must 
 address myself, that grace, in all proba- 
 bility, every apartment of this gloomy 
 abode. How culpable must my belov- 
 ed parent deem his injured child, to 
 doom her, unheard, to this dreary soli- 
 tude ! What pangs, too, must the idea 
 of my guilt inflict on his susceptible 
 heart ! Has he not already experienced 
 sufficient calamity, without receiving 
 this last stab to his happiness, which 
 may prove fatal to him as if I had really 
 erred ? Why did he not see me ? I 
 would have convinced him, and incon- 
 trovertibly proved my innocence. How 
 artfully must the charge have been sup- 
 ported against me, or he would never 
 have condemned me thus unpitied, for 
 he loves his Maddalena with parental 
 affection." 
 
 In 
 
256 THE ABBESS. 
 
 In this train of reflection did Madda- 
 lena continue, till the melancholy clock 
 proclaimed tlie hour of midnight. She 
 arose, and summoning the female atten- 
 dant, desired to be conducted to her 
 bedchamber. After traversing the ad- 
 joining hall, and several inner apart- 
 ments, she at length entered that which 
 was prepared for her, and found her 
 trunks, and every thing as convenient 
 as the place would admit. Maria, for 
 that was the young woman's name, re- 
 ceived Maddalena's thanks for her care ; 
 and having informed her that she had 
 no further occasion for her services, bad 
 her retire to rest. Having offered up a 
 fervent prayer to the Almighty, she 
 yielded her senses to sleep's all-potent 
 charm. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 Printed by J. Darling, Leadenhall-street, London. 
 
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UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 823IR25A C001 w.1 
 Abbess : A romance. / 
 
 3 0112 088986036