volume02- 第20部分

Possession；　which　cloys　Man；　only　increases　the　affection　of　Woman。　　Matilda　with　every　succeeding　day　grew　more　attached　to　the　Friar。　　Since　He　had　obtained　her　favours；　He　was　become　dearer　to　her　than　ever；　and　She　felt　grateful　to　him　for　the　pleasures　in　which　they　had　equally　been　Sharers。　　Unfortunately　as　her　passion　grew　ardent；　Ambrosio's　grew　cold；　The　very　marks　of　her　fondness　excited　his　disgust；　and　its　excess　served　to　extinguish　the　flame　which　already　burned　but　feebly　in　his　bosom。　　Matilda　could　not　but　remark　that　her　society　seemed　to　him　daily　less　agreeable：　　He　was　inattentive　while　She　spoke：　her　musical　talents；　which　She　possessed　in　perfection；　had　lost　the　power　of　amusing　him；　Or　if　He　deigned　to　praise　them；　his　compliments　were　evidently　forced　and　cold。　　He　no　longer　gazed　upon　her　with　affection；　or　applauded　her　sentiments　with　a　Lover's　partiality。　　This　Matilda　well　perceived；　and　redoubled　her　efforts　to　revive　those　sentiments　which　He　once　had　felt。　　She　could　not　but　fail；　since　He　considered　as　importunities　the　pains　which　She　took　to　please　him；　and　was　disgusted　by　the　very　means　which　She　used　to　recall　the　Wanderer。　　Still；　however；　their　illicit　Commerce　continued：　　But　it　was　clear　that　He　was　led　to　her　arms；　not　by　love；　but　the　cravings　of　brutal　appetite。　　His　constitution　made　a　Woman　necessary　to　him；　and　Matilda　was　the　only　one　with　whom　He　could　indulge　his　passions　safely：　　In　spite　of　her　beauty；　He　gazed　upon　every　other　Female　with　more　desire；　But　fearing　that　his　Hypocrisy　should　be　made　public；　He　confined　his　inclinations　to　his　own　breast。

It　was　by　no　means　his　nature　to　be　timid：　　But　his　education　had　impressed　his　mind　with　fear　so　strongly；　that　apprehension　was　now　become　part　of　his　character。　Had　his　Youth　been　passed　in　the　world；　He　would　have　shown　himself　possessed　of　many　brilliant　and　manly　qualities。　　He　was　naturally　enterprizing；　firm；　and　fearless：　　He　had　a　Warrior's　heart；　and　He　might　have　shone　with　splendour　at　the　head　of　an　Army。　　There　was　no　want　of　generosity　in　his　nature：　　The　Wretched　never　failed　to　find　in　him　a　compassionate　Auditor：　His　abilities　were　quick　and　shining；　and　his　judgment；　vast；　solid；　and　decisive。　　With　such　qualifications　He　would　have　been　an　ornament　to　his　Country：　　That　He　possessed　them；　He　had　given　proofs　in　his　earliest　infancy；　and　his　Parents　had　beheld　his　dawning　virtues　with　the　fondest　delight　and　admiration。　　Unfortunately；　while　yet　a　Child　He　was　deprived　of　those　Parents。　　He　fell　into　the　power　of　a　Relation　whose　only　wish　about　him　was　never　to　hear　of　him　more；　For　that　purpose　He　gave　him　in　charge　to　his　Friend；　the　former　Superior　of　the　Capuchins。　　The　Abbot；　a　very　Monk；　used　all　his　endeavours　to　persuade　the　Boy　that　happiness　existed　not　without　the　walls　of　a　Convent。　　He　succeeded　fully。　　To　deserve　admittance　into　the　order　of　St。　Francis　was　Ambrosio's　highest　ambition。　　His　Instructors　carefully　repressed　those　virtues　whose　grandeur　and　disinterestedness　were　ill…suited　to　the　Cloister。　　Instead　of　universal　benevolence；　He　adopted　a　selfish　partiality　for　his　own　particular　establishment：　　He　was　taught　to　consider　compassion　for　the　errors　of　Others　as　a　crime　of　the　blackest　dye：　　The　noble　frankness　of　his　temper　was　exchanged　for　servile　humility；　and　in　order　to　break　his　natural　spirit；　the　Monks　terrified　his　young　mind　by　placing　before　him　all　the　horrors　with　which　Superstition　could　furnish　them：　　They　painted　to　him　the　torments　of　the　Damned　in　colours　the　most　dark；　terrible；　and　fantastic；　and　threatened　him　at　the　slightest　fault　with　eternal　perdition。　　No　wonder　that　his　imagination　constantly　dwelling　upon　these　fearful　objects　should　have　rendered　his　character　timid　and　apprehensive。　　Add　to　this；　that　his　long　absence　from　the　great　world；　and　total　unacquaintance　with　the　common　dangers　of　life；　made　him　form　of　them　an　idea　far　more　dismal　than　the　reality。　　While　the　Monks　were　busied　in　rooting　out　his　virtues　and　narrowing　his　sentiments；　they　allowed　every　vice　which　had　fallen　to　his　share　to　arrive　at　full　perfection。　　He　was　suffered　to　be　proud；　vain；　ambitious；　and　disdainful：　　He　was　jealous　of　his　Equals；　and　despised　all　merit　but　his　own：　　He　was　implacable　when　offended；　and　cruel　in　his　revenge。　Still　in　spite　of　the　pains　taken　to　pervert　them；　his　natural　good　qualities　would　occasionally　break　through　the　gloom　cast　over　them　so　carefully：

At　such　times　the　contest　for　superiority　between　his　real　and　acquired　character　was　striking　and　unaccountable　to　those　unacquainted　with　his　original　disposition。　　He　pronounced　the　most　severe　sentences　upon　Offenders；　which；　the　moment　after；　Compassion　induced　him　to　mitigate：　　He　undertook　the　most　daring　enterprizes；　which　the　fear　of　their　consequences　soon　obliged　him　to　abandon：　　His　inborn　genius　darted　a　brilliant　light　upon　subjects　the　most　obscure；　and　almost　instantaneously　his　Superstition　replunged　them　in　darkness　more　profound　than　that　from　which　they　had　just　been　rescued。　　His　Brother　Monks；　regarding　him　as　a　Superior　Being；　remarked　not　this　contradiction　in　their　Idol's　conduct。　　They　were　persuaded　that　what　He　did　must　be　right；　and　supposed　him　to　have　good　reasons　for　changing　his　resolutions。　　The　fact　was；　that　the　different　sentiments　with　which　Education　and　Nature　had　inspired　him　were　combating　in　his　bosom：　　It　remained　for　his　passions；　which　as　yet　no　opportunity　had　called　into　play；　to　decide　the　victory。　　Unfortunately　his　passions　were　the　very　worst　Judges；　to　whom　He　could　possibly　have　applied。　　His　monastic　seclusion　had　till　now　been　in　his　favour；　since　it　gave　him　no　room　for　discovering　his　bad　qualities。　　The　superiority　of　his　talents　raised　him　too　far　above　his　Companions　to　permit　his　being　jealous　of　them：　　His　exemplary　piety；　persuasive　eloquence；　and　pleasing　manners　had　secured　him　universal　Esteem；　and　consequently　He　had　no　injuries　to　revenge：　　His　Ambition　was　justified　by　his　acknowledged　merit；　and　his　pride　considered　as　no　more　than　proper　confidence。　　He　never　saw；　much　less　conversed　with；　the　other　sex：　　He　was　ignorant　of　the　pleasures　in　Woman's　power　to　bestow；　and　if　He　read　in　the　course　of　his　studies

　　　'That　Men　were　fond；　He　smiled；　and　wondered　how！'　

For　a　time；　spare　diet；　frequent　watching；　and　severe　penance　cooled　and　represt　the　natural　warmth　of　his　constitution：　　But　no　sooner　did　opportunity　present　itself；　no　sooner　did　He　catch　a　glimpse　of　joys　to　which　He　was　still　a　Stranger；　than　Religion's　barriers　were　too　feeble　to　resist　the　overwhelming　torrent　of　his　desires。　　All　impediments　yielded　before　the　force　of　his　temperament；　warm；　sanguine；　and　voluptuous　in　the　excess。

As　yet　his　other　passions　lay　dormant；　But　they　only　needed　to　be　once　awakened；　to　display　themselves　with　violence　as　great　and　irresistible。

He　continued　to　be　the　admiration　of　Madrid。　　The　Enthusiasm　created　by　his　eloquence　seemed　rather　to　increase　than　diminish。

Every　Thursday；　which　was　the　only　day　when　He　appeared　in　public；　the　Capuchin　Cathedral　was　crowded　with　Auditors；　and　his　discourse　was　always　received　with　the　same　approbation。　　He　was　named　Confessor　to　all　the　chief　families　in　Madrid；　and　no　one　was　counted　fashionable　who　was　injoined　penance　by　any　other　than　Ambrosio。　　In　his　resolution　of　never　stirring　out　of　his　Convent；　He　still　persisted。　This　circumstance　created　a　still　greater　opinion　of　his　sanctity　and　self…denial。　　Above　all；　the　Women　sang　forth　his　praises　loudly；　less　influenced　by　devotion　than　by　his　noble　countenance；　majestic　air；　and　well…turned；　graceful　figure。　　The　Abbey　door　was　thronged　with　Carriages　from　morning　to　night；　and　the　noblest　and　fairest　Dames　of　Madrid　confessed　to　the　Abbot　their　secret　peccadilloes。

The　eyes　of　the　luxurious　Friar　devoured　their　charms：　　Had　his　Penitents　consulted　those　Interpreters；　He　would　have　needed　no　other　means　of　expressing　his　desires。　　For　his　misfortune；　they　were　so　strongly　persuaded　of　his　continence；　that　the　possibility　of　his　harbouring　indecent　thoughts　never　once　entered　their　imaginations。　　The　climate's　heat；　'tis　well　known；　operates　with　no　small　influence　upon　the　constitutions　of　the　Spanish　Ladies：　　But　the　most　abandoned　would　have　thought　it　an　easier　task　to　inspire　with　passion　the　marble　Statue　of　St。　Francis　than　the　cold　and　rigid　heart　of　the　immaculate　Ambrosio。

On　his　part；　the　Friar　was　little　acquainted　with　the　depravity　of　the　world；　He　suspected　not　that　but　few　of　his　Penitents　would　have　rejected　his　addresses。　　Yet　had　He　been　better　instructed　on　this　head；　the　danger　attending　such　an　attempt　would　have　sealed　up　his　lips　in　silence。　　He　knew　that　it　would　be　difficult　for　a　Woman　to　keep　a　secret　so　strange　and　so　important　as　his　frailty；　and　He　even　trembled　lest　Matilda　should　betray　him。　　Anxious　to　preserve　a　reputation　which　was　infinitely　dear　to　him；　He　saw　all　the　risque　of　committing　it　to　the　power　of　some　vain　giddy　Female；　and　as　the　Beauties　of　Madrid　affected　only　his　senses　without　touching　his　heart；　He　forgot　them　as　soon　as　they　were　out　of　his　sight。　　The　danger　of　discovery；　the　fear　of　being　repulsed；　the　loss　of　reputation；　all　these　considerations　counselled　him　to　stifle　his　desires：　　And　though　He　now　felt　for　it　the　most　perfect　indifference；　He　was　necessitated　to　confine　himself　to　Matilda's　person。

One　morning；　the　confluence　of　Penitents　was　greater　than　usual。　　He　was　detained　in　the　Confessional　Chair　till　a　late　hour。　　At　length　the　crowd　was　dispatched；　and　He　prepared　to　quit　the　Chapel；　when　two　Females　entered　and　drew　near　him　with　humility。　　They　threw　up　their　veils；　and　the　youngest　entreated　him　to　listen　to　her　for　a　few　moments。　　The　melody　of　her　voice；　of　that　voice　to　which　no　Man　ever　listened　without　interest；　immediately　caught　Ambrosio's　attention。　　He　stopped。　　The　Petitioner　seemed　bowed　down　with　affliction：　　Her　cheeks　were　pale；　her　eyes　dimmed　with　tears；　and　her　hair　fell　in　disorder　over　her　face　and　bosom。　　Still　her　countenance　was　so　sweet；　so　innocent；　so　heavenly；　as　might　have　charmed　an　heart　less　susceptible；　than　tha