The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane, Alain René le Sage [most read books .txt] 📗

were submitted to my gaze. My spirits were all afloat at

the discovery. A sensation of transport and delight came over me;

but however my feelings might harass my own heart, my conviction

of her high birth checked every presumptuous hope, and awe

obtained a complete victory over desire. While I was drinking in

floods of adoration at the shrine of her beauty, the goddess of

my homage awoke.

 

You may well suppose her consternation, at seeing a man, an utter

stranger, in her bedchamber, and at midnight. She was terrified

at this strange appearance, and uttered a loud shriek. I did my

best to restore her composure, and throwing myself on my knees in

the humblest posture, Madam, said I, fear nothing. My business

here is not to hurt you. I was going on, but her alarm was so

great that she was incapable of hearing my excuses. She called

her woman with a most vehement importunity, and as she could get

no answer, she threw over her a thin night-gown at the foot of

the bed, rushed rapidly out of the room, and darted into the

apartments I had crossed, still calling her female establishment

about her, as well as a younger sister whom she had under her

care. I looked for nothing less than a posse of strapping footmen

who were likely, without hearing my defence, to execute summary

justice on so audacious a culprit; but by good luck, at least for

me, her cries were to no purpose; they only roused an old

domestic, who would have been but a sorry knight had any ravisher

or magician invaded her repose. Nevertheless, assuming somewhat

of courage from his presence, she asked me haughtily who I was,

by what inlet and to what purpose I had presumptuously gained

admission into her house. I began then to enter on my

exculpation, and had no sooner declared that the open door of the

summer-house in the garden had invited my entrance, than she

exclaimed as if thunderstruck — Just heaven! what an idea darts

across my mind!

 

As she uttered these words, she caught at the wax light on the

table; then ran through all the apartments one after another,

without finding either her attendants or her sister. She

remarked, too, that all their personals and wardrobe were carried

off. With such a comment on her hasty suspicions, she came up to

me and said, in the hurried accent of suspense and perturbation:

Traitor! add not hypocrisy to your other crimes. Chance has not

brought you hither. You are in the train of Don Ferdinand de

Leyva, and are an accomplice in his guilt. But hope not to

escape, there are still people enough about me to secure you.

Madam, said I, do not confound me with your enemies. Don

Ferdinand de Leyva is a stranger to me; I do not even know who

you are. You see before you an outcast, whom an affair of honour

has compelled to fly from Madrid; and I swear by whatever is most

sacred among men, that had not a storm overtaken me, I should

never have set my foot over your threshold. Entertain, then, a

more favourable opinion of me. So far from suspecting me for an

accomplice in any plot against you, believe me ready to enlist in

your defence, and to revenge your wrongs. These last words, and

still more the sincere tone in which they were delivered,

convinced the lady of my innocence, and she seemed no longer to

look on me as her enemy; but if her anger abated it was only that

her grief might sway more absolutely. She began weeping most

bitterly. Her tears called forth my sympathy, and my affliction

was scarcely less poignant than her own, though the cause of this

contagious sorrow was still to be ascertained. Yet it was not

enough to mingle my tears with hers; in my impatience to become

her defender and avenger, an impulse of terrific fury came over

me. Madam, exclaimed I, what outrage have you sustained? Let me

know it, and your injuries are mine. Would you have me hunt out

Don Ferdinand, and stab him to the heart? Only tell me on whom

your justice would fall, and they shall suffer. You have only to

give the word. Whatever dangers, whatever certain evils may be

attendant on the execution of your orders, the unknown, whom you

thought to be in league with your enemies, will brave them all in

your cause.

 

This enraptured devotion surprised the lady, and stopped the

flowing of her tears, Ah! sir, said she, forgive this suspicion,

and attribute it to the blindness of my cruel fate. A nobility of

sentiment like this speaks at once to the heart of Seraphina: and

while it undeceives, makes me the less repine at a stranger being

witness of an affront offered to my family. Yes, I own my error,

and revolt not, unknown as you are, from your proffered aid. But

the death of Don Ferdinand is not what I require. Well, then,

madam, resumed I, of what nature are the services you would

enjoin me? Sir, replied Seraphina, the ground of my complaint is

this: Don Ferdinand de Leyva is enamoured of my sister Julia,

whom he met with by accident at Toledo, where we for the most

part reside. Three months since, he asked her in marriage of the

Count de Polan, my father, who refused his consent on account of

an old grudge subsisting between the families. My sister is not

yet fifteen, she must have been indiscreet enough to follow the

evil counsels of my woman, whom Don Ferdinand has doubtless

bribed; and this daring ruffian, advertised of our being alone at

our country-house, has taken the opportunity of carrying off

Julia. At least I should like to know what hiding-place he has

chosen to deposit her in, that my father and my brother, who have

been these two months at Madrid, may take their measures

accordingly. For heaven’s sake, added she, give yourself the

trouble of examining the neighbourhood of Toledo, an act so

heinous cannot escape detection, and my family will owe you a

debt of ever lasting gratitude.

 

The lady was little aware how unseasonable an employment she was

thrusting upon me. My escape from Castile could not be too soon

effected; and yet how should such a reflection ever enter into

her head, when it was completely superseded in mine by a more

powerful suggestion? Delighted at finding myself important to the

most lovely creature in the universe, I caught at the commission

with eagerness, and promised to acquit myself of it with equal

zeal and industry. In fact, I did not wait for daybreak, to go

about fulfilling my engagement. A hasty leave of Seraphina gave

me occasion to beg her pardon for the alarm I had caused her, and

to assure her that she should speedily hear some what of my

adventure. I went out as I came in, but so wrapped up in

admiration of the lady, that it was palpable I was completely

caught. My sense of this truth was the more confirmed, by the

eagerness with which I embarked in by the romantic, gaily-coloured bubbles which my passion blew. It struck my fancy that

Seraphina, though engrossed by her affliction, had remarked the

hasty birth of my love, without being displeased at the

discovery. I even flattered myself that if I could furnish her

with any certain intelligence of her sister, and the business

should terminate in any degree to her satisfaction, my part in it

would be remembered to my advantage.

 

Don Alphonso broke the thread of his discourse at this passage,

and said to our aged host: I beg your pardon, father, if the

fullness of my passion should lead me to dilate too long upon

particulars, wearisome and uninteresting to a stranger. No, my

son, replied the hermit, such particulars are not wearisome: I am

interested to know the state and progress of your passion for the

young lady you are speaking of; my counsels will be influenced by

the minute detail you are giving me.

 

With my fancy heated by these seductive images, resumed the young

man, I was two days hunting after Julia’s ravisher: but in vain

were all the inquiries that could be made; by no means I could

devise was the least trace of him to be discovered. Deeply

mortified at the unsuccessful issue of my search, I bent my steps

back to Seraphina, whom I pictured to myself as overwhelmed with

uneasiness. Yet she was in better spirits than might have been

expected. She informed me that her success had been better than

mine; for she had learned how her sister was disposed of. She had

received a letter from Don Ferdinand himself, importing that

after being privately married to Julia, he had placed her in a

convent at Toledo. I have sent his letter to my father, pursued

Seraphina. I hope the affair may be adjusted amicably, and that a

solemn marriage will soon extinguish the feuds which have so long

kept our respective families at variance.

 

When the lady had thus informed me of her sister’s fate, she

began making an apology for the trouble she had given me, as well

as the danger into which she might imprudently have thrown me, by

engaging my services in pursuit of a ravisher, without

recollecting what I had told her, that an affair of honour had

been the occasion of my flight. Her excuses were couched in such

flattering terms, as to convert her very oversight into an

obligation. As rest was desirable for me after my journey, she

conducted me into the saloon, where we sat down together. She

wore an undress gown of white taffety with black stripes, and a

little hat of the same materials with black feathers; which gave

me reason to suppose that she might be a widow. But she looked so

young, that I scarcely knew what to think of it.

 

If I was all impatient to get at her history, she was not less so

to know who I was. She besought me to acquaint her with my name,

not doubting, as she kindly expressed it, by my noble air, and

still more by the generous pity which had made me enter so warmly

into her interests, that I belonged to some considerable family.

The question was not a little perplexing. My colour came and

went, my agitation was extreme: and I must own that, with less

repugnance to the meanness of a falsehood than to the

acknowledgment of a disgraceful truth, I answered that I was the

son of Baron Steinbach, an officer of the German guard. Tell me,

likewise, resumed the lady, why you left Madrid. Before you

answer my question, I will insure you all my father’s credit, as

well as that of my brother Don Gaspard. It is the least mark of

gratitude I can bestow on a gentleman who, for my service, has

neglected the preservation even of his own life. Without further

hesitation, I acquainted her with all the circumstances of my

rencounter: she laid the whole blame on my deceased antagonist,

and engaged to interest all her family in my favour.

 

When I had satisfied her curiosity, it seemed not unreasonable to

plead in favour of my own. I inquired whether she was maid, wife,

or widow. It is three years, answered she, since my father made

me marry Don Diego de Lara; and I have been a widow these fifteen

months. Madam, said I, by what misfortune were your wedded joys

so soon interrupted? I am going to inform you, sir, resumed the

lady, in return for the confidence you have reposed in me.

 

Don Diego de Lara was a very elegant and accomplished gentleman:

but, though