The Monk

  I shuddered involuntarily as Baptiste entered the room. He made many apologies for his long absence, but “he had been detained by affairs impossible to be delayed.” He then entreated permission for his family to sup at the same table with us, without which, respect would not authorize his taking such a liberty. Oh! how in my heart I cursed the hypocrite! how I loathed his presence, who was on the point of depriving me of an existence, at that time infinitely dear! I had every reason to be satisfied with life; I had youth, wealth, rank, and education, and the fairest prospects presented themselves before me. I saw those prospects on the point of closing in the most horrible manner: yet was I obliged to dissimulate, and to receive with a semblance of gratitude the false civilities of him who held the dagger to my bosom.

  The permission which our host demanded was easily obtained. We seated ourselves at the table. The baroness and myself occupied one side; the sons were opposite to us, with their backs to the door. Baptiste took his seat by the baroness, at the upper end; and the place next to him was left for his wife. She soon entered the room, and placed before us a plain but comfortable peasant’s repast. Our host thought it necessary to apologize for the poorness of the supper: “he had not been apprized of our coming; he could only offer us such fare as had been intended for his own family.”

  “But,” added he, “should any accident detain my noble guests longer than they at present intend, I hope to give them a better treatment.”

  The villain! I well knew the accident to which he alluded. I shuddered at the treatment which he taught us to expect.

  My companion in danger seemed entirely to have got rid of her chagrin at being delayed. She laughed, and conversed with the family with infinite gaiety. I strove, but in vain, to follow her example. My spirits were evidently forced, and the constraint which I put upon myself escaped not Baptiste’s observation.

  “Come, come, monsieur, cheer up!” said he; “you seem not quite recovered from your fatigue. To raise your spirits, what say you to a glass of excellent old wine which was left me by my father? God rest his soul, he is in a better world! I seldom produce this wine; but as I am not honoured with such guests every day, this is an occasion which deserves a bottle.”

  He then gave his wife a key, and instructed her where to find the wine of which he spoke. She seemed by no means pleased with the commission; she took the key with an embarrassed air, and hesitated to quit the table.

  “Did you hear me?” said Baptiste in an angry tone.

  Marguerite darted upon him a look of mingled anger and fear, and left the chamber. His eyes followed her suspiciously till she had closed the door.

  She soon returned with a bottle sealed with yellow wax. She placed it upon the table, and gave the key back to her husband. I suspected that this liquor was not presented to us without design, and I watched Marguerite’s movements with inquietude. She was employed in rinsing some small horn goblets. As she placed them before Baptiste, she saw that my eye was fixed upon her; and at the moment when she thought herself unobserved by the banditti, she motioned to me with her head not to taste the liquor. She then resumed her place.

  In the mean while our host had drawn the cork, and, filling two of the goblets, offered them to the lady and myself. She at first made some objections, but the instances of Baptiste were so urgent, that she was obliged to comply. Fearing to excite suspicion, I hesitated not to take the goblet presented to me. By its smell and colour, I guessed it to be champagne; but some grains of powder floating upon the top convinced me that it was not unadulterated. However, I dared not to express my repugnance to drinking it; I lifted it to my lips, and seemed to be swallowing it: suddenly starting from my chair, I made the best of my way towards a vase of water at some distance, in which Marguerite had been rinsing the goblets. I pretended to spit out the wine with disgust, and took an opportunity, unperceived, of emptying the liquor into the vase.

  The banditti seemed alarmed at my action. Jacques half rose from his chair, put his hand into his bosom, and I discovered the haft of a dagger. I returned to my seat with tranquillity, and affected not to have observed their confusion.

  “You have not suited my taste, honest friend,” said I, addressing myself to Baptiste: “I never can drink champagne without its producing a violent illness. I swallowed a few mouthfuls ere I was aware of its quality, and fear that I shall suffer for my imprudence.”

  Baptiste and Jacques exchanged looks of distrust.

  “Perhaps,” said Robert, “the smell may be disagreeable to you?”

  He quitted his chair, and removed the goblet. I observed, that he examined whether it was nearly empty.

  “He must have drank sufficient,” said he to his brother in a low voice, while he re-seated himself.

  Marguerite looked apprehensive that I had tasted the liquor. A glance from my eye re-assured her.

  I waited with anxiety for the effects which the beverage would produce upon the lady. I doubted not but the grains which I had observed were poisonous, and lamented that it had been impossible for me to warn her of the danger. But a few minutes had elapsed, before I perceived her eyes grow heavy; her head sank upon her shoulder, and she fell into a deep sleep. I affected not to attend to this circumstance, and continued my conversation with Baptiste, with all the outward gaiety in my power to assume. But he no longer answered me without constraint. He eyed me with distrust and astonishment, and I saw that the banditti were frequently whispering among themselves. My situation became every moment more painful: I sustained the character of confidence with a worse grace than ever. Equally afraid of the arrival of their accomplices, and of their suspecting my knowledge of their designs, I knew not how to dissipate the distrust which the banditti evidently entertained for me. In this new dilemma the friendly Marguerite again assisted me. She passed behind the chairs of her step-sons, stopped for a moment opposite to me, closed her eyes, and reclined her head upon her shoulder. This hint immediately dispelled my incertitude. It told me, that I ought to imitate the baroness, and pretend that the liquor had taken its full effect upon me. I did so, and in a few minutes seemed perfectly overcome with slumber.

  “So!” cried Baptiste, as I fell back in my chair, “at last he sleeps! I began to think that he had scented our design, and that we should have been forced to dispatch him at all events.”

  “And why not dispatch him at all events?” enquired the ferocious Jacques: “why leave him the possibility of betraying our secret? Marguerite, give me one of my pistols: a single touch of the trigger will finish him at once.”

  “And supposing,” rejoined the father, “supposing that our friends should not arrive to-night, a pretty figure we should make when the servants enquire for him in the morning! No, no, Jacques; we must wait for our associates. If they join us, we are strong enough to dispatch the domestics as well as their masters, and the booty is our own. If Claude does not find the troop, we must take patience, and suffer the prey to slip through our fingers. Ah! boys, boys, had you arrived but five minutes sooner, the Spaniard would have been done for, and two thousand pistoles our own. But you are always out of the way when you are most wanted. You are the most unlucky rogues——”

  “Well, well, father!” answered Jacques; “had you been of my mind, all would have been over by this time. You, Robert, Claude, and myself—why the strangers were but double the number, and I warrant you we might have mastered them. However, Claude is gone; ’Tis too late to think of it now. We must wait patiently for the arrival of the gang; and if the travellers escape us to-night, we must take care to way-lay them to-morrow.”

  “True! true!” said Baptiste; “Marguerite, have you given the sleeping-draught to the waiting-women?”

  She replied in the affirmative.

  “All then is safe. Come, come, boys; whatever falls out, we have no reason to complain of this adventure. We run no danger, may gain much, and can lose nothing.”

  At this moment I heard a trampling of horses. Oh! how dreadful was the sound to my ea
rs! A cold sweat flowed down my forehead, and I felt all the terrors of impending death. I was by no means re-assured by hearing the compassionate Marguerite exclaim, in the accents of despair,

  “Almighty God! they are lost.”

  Luckily the woodman and his sons were too much occupied by the arrival of their associates to attend to me, or the violence of my agitation would have convinced them that my sleep was feigned.

  “Open! open!” exclaimed several voices on the outside of the cottage.

  “Yes! yes!” cried Baptiste joyfully; “they are our friends, sure enough. Now then our booty is certain. Away! lads, away! Lead them to the barn; you know what is to be done there.”

  Robert hastened to open the door of the cottage.

  “But first,” said Jacques, taking up his arms, “first let me dispatch these sleepers.”

  “No, no, no!” replied his father: “Go you to the barn, where your presence is wanted. Leave me to take care of these and the women above.”

  Jacques obeyed, and followed his brother. They seemed to converse with the new-comers for a few minutes; after which I heard the robbers dismount, and, as I conjectured, bend their course towards the barn.

  “So! that is wisely done!” muttered Baptiste; “they have quitted their horses, that they may fall upon the strangers by surprise. Good! good! and now to business.”

  I heard him approach a small cupboard which was fixed up in a distant part of the room, and unlock it. At this moment I felt myself shaken gently.

  “Now! now!” whispered Marguerite.

  I opened my eyes. Baptiste stood with his back towards me. No one else was in the room save Marguerite and the sleeping lady. The villain had taken a dagger from the cupboard, and seemed examining whether it was sufficiently sharp. I had neglected to furnish myself with arms; but I perceived this to be my only chance of escaping, and resolved not to lose the opportunity. I sprang from my seat, darted suddenly upon Baptiste, and, clasping my hands round his throat, pressed it so forcibly as to prevent his uttering a single cry. You may remember, that I was remarkable at Salamanca for the power of my arm. It now rendered me an essential service. Surprised, terrified, and breathless, the villain was by no means an equal antagonist. I threw him upon the ground; I grasped him still tighter; and while I fixed him without motion upon the floor, Marguerite, wresting the dagger from his hand, plunged it repeatedly in his heart till he expired.

  No sooner was this horrible but necessary act perpetrated, than Marguerite called on me to follow her.

  “Flight is our only refuge,” said she, “quick! quick! away!”

  I hesitated not to obey her; but unwilling to leave the baroness a victim to the vengeance of the robbers, I raised her in my arms still sleeping, and hastened after Marguerite. The horses of the banditti were fastened near the door. My conductress sprang upon one of them. I followed her example, placed the baroness before me, and spurred on my horse. Our only hope was to reach Strasbourg, which was much nearer than the perfidious Claude had assured me. Marguerite was well acquainted with the road, and galloped on before me. We were obliged to pass by the barn, where the robbers were slaughtering our domestics. The door was open: we distinguished the shrieks of the dying, and imprecations of the murderers. What I felt at that moment language is unable to describe.

  Jacques heard the trampling of our horses, as we rushed by the barn. He flew to the door with a burning torch in his hand, and easily recognised the fugitives.

  “Betrayed! betrayed!” he shouted to his companions.

  Instantly they left their bloody work, and hastened to regain their horses. We heard no more. I buried my spurs in the sides of my courser, and Marguerite goaded on hers with the poniard which had already rendered us such good service. We flew like lightning, and gained the open plains. Already was Strasbourg’s steeple in sight, when we heard the robbers pursuing us. Marguerite looked back, and distinguished our followers descending a small hill at no great distance. It was in vain that we urged on our horses: the noise approached nearer with every moment.

  “We are lost!” she exclaimed; “the villains gain upon us!”

  “On! on!” replied I; “I hear the trampling of horses coming from the town.”

  We redoubled our exertions, and were soon aware of a numerous band of cavaliers, who came towards us at full speed. They were on the point of passing us.

  “Stay! stay!” shrieked Marguerite; “save us! for God’s sake, save us!”

  The foremost, who seemed to act as guide, immediately reined in his steed.

  “ ’Tis she! ’Tis she!” exclaimed he, springing upon the ground: “Stop, my lord, stop! they are safe! ’Tis my mother!”

  At the same moment Marguerite threw herself from her horse, clasped him in her arms, and covered him with kisses. The other cavaliers stopped at the exclamation.

  “The baroness Lindenberg!” cried another of the strangers eagerly: “Where is she? Is she not with you?”

  He stopped on beholding her lying senseless in my arms. Hastily he caught her from me. The profound sleep in which she was plunged, made him at first tremble for her life; but the beating of her heart soon re-assured him.

  “God be thanked!” said he, “she has escaped unhurt.”

  I interrupted his joy by pointing out the brigands, who continued to approach. No sooner had I mentioned them, than the greatest part of the company, which appeared to be chiefly composed of soldiers, hastened forward to meet them. The villains staid not to receive their attack. Perceiving their danger, they turned the heads of their horses, and fled into the wood, whither they were followed by our preservers. In the mean while the stranger, whom I guessed to be the baron Lindenberg, after thanking me for my care of his lady, proposed our returning with all speed to the town. The baroness, on whom the effects of the opiate had not ceased to operate, was placed before him; Marguerite and her son remounted their horses; the baron’s domestics followed, and we soon arrived at the inn, where he had taken his apartments.

  This was at the Austrian Eagle, where my banker, whom before my quitting Paris I had apprised of my intention to visit Strasbourg, had prepared lodgings for me. I rejoiced at this circumstance. It gave me an opportunity of cultivating the baron’s acquaintance, which I foresaw would be of use to me in Germany. Immediately upon our arrival, the lady was conveyed to bed. A physician was sent for, who prescribed a medicine likely to counteract the effects of the sleepy potion; and after it had been poured down her throat, she was committed to the care of the hostess. The baron then addressed himself to me, and entreated me to recount the particulars of this adventure. I complied with his request instantaneously; for, in pain respecting Stephano’s fate, whom I had been compelled to abandon to the cruelty of the banditti, I found it impossible for me to repose till I had some news of him. I received but too soon the intelligence that my trusty servant had perished. The soldiers who had pursued the brigands, returned while I was employed in relating my adventure to the baron. By their account, I found that the robbers had been overtaken. Guilt and true courage are incompatible: they had thrown themselves at the feet of their pursuers, had surrendered themselves without striking a blow, had discovered their secret retreat, made known their signals by which the rest of the gang might be seized, and, in short, had betrayed every mark of cowardice and baseness. By this means the whole of the band, consisting of near sixty persons, had been made prisoners, bound, and conducted to Strasbourg. Some of the soldiers hastened to the cottage, one of the banditti serving them as guide. Their first visit was to the fatal barn, where they were fortunate enough to find two of the baron’s servants still alive, though desperately wounded. The rest had expired beneath the swords of the robbers, and of these my unhappy Stephano was one.

  Alarmed at our escape, the robbers, in their haste to overtake us, had neglected to visit the cottage; in consequence, the soldiers found the two waiting-women unhurt, and buried in the same death-like slumber which had overpowered their mistress. There was nobody
else found in the cottage, except a child not above four years old, which the soldiers brought away with them. We were busying ourselves with conjectures respecting the birth of this little unfortunate, when Marguerite rushed into the room with the baby in her arms. She fell at the feet of the officer who was making us this report, and blessed him a thousand times for the preservation of her child.

  When the first burst of maternal tenderness was over, I besought her to declare by what means she had been united to a man whose principles seemed so totally discordant with her own. She bent her eyes downwards, and wiped a few tears from her cheek.

  “Gentlemen,” said she, after a silence of some minutes, “I would request a favour of you. You have a right to know on whom you confer an obligation; I will not, therefore, stifle a confession which covers me with shame; but permit me to comprise it in as few words as possible.

  “I was born in Strasbourg, of respectable parents; their names I must at present conceal. My father still lives, and deserves not to be involved in my infamy. If you grant my request, you shall be informed of my family name. A villain made himself master of my affections, and to follow him I quitted my father’s house. Yet, though my passions overpowered my virtue, I sunk not into that degeneracy of vice but too commonly the lot of women who make the first false step. I loved my seducer, dearly loved him! I was true to his bed: this baby, and the youth who warned you, my lord baron, of your lady’s danger, are the pledges of our affection. Even at this moment I lament his loss, though ’Tis to him that I owe all the miseries of my existence.