Eternal Providence! never more will I murmur that you denied me a request, whose consequences were known to you far better than to myself. I besought you to bestow on me a blessing; you granted it by withholding that, which if conferred on me would perhaps have made me miserable for ever.
Adelaide of the Beacon-Tower to Urania Venosta.
Oh! tell me, unhappy wife of my unhappy father; you, whom I would so gladly call my mother, had not she to whom Nature bade me give that valued name, compelled me to blend with it no ideas but those of pain and terror; you, whom I already love, and whose future affection I wish so anxiously to obtain; oh! tell me, Urania, was it but a dream, or have I indeed found at length the friend and sister whom I sought so long in vain, and whose counsels and whose comfort my tortured heart needs so greatly?
Yet alas! what avails it that we have met? Already are we separated, as I feared we should be, and separated (as I now fear) for ever! Yet, much as I grieve for what I lose myself by this event, still more do I grieve to think, that what you lose is greater!
How much do I now reproach myself, that when I stole to your tent at midnight to warn you and the fair partner of your captivity of what was about to happen, I should have been so tardy in acknowledging,—“Count Donat of Carlsheim is a man not to be trusted.”—Yet forgive me, Urania; Donat is my brother; and oh! it is so painful to declare a brother’s disgrace!
I charge you, dear friend, in the name of Heaven and the Holy Virgin I charge you, suffer not yourself to be deceived by his perfidious friendship. On your journey to the Castle seize the first opportunity of escaping; should you be once inclosed within the gates of Sargans, you have nothing to expect but a cruel death or an ignominious prison; and, alas for the damsel of Mayenfield! she has a still more dreadful lot to apprehend!
That hypocritical abbot Guiderius, or whatever be his detested name, who came to my brother’s camp with his monks under pretence of pleading in your behalf, was skilful enough to discover Count Donat’s darling weakness. He promised him the possession of a young beauty, who (according to his account) was entirely at the Abbot’s disposal. My brother, who never confides in the word of ecclesiastics, insisted on the immediate accomplishment of this promise; and the poor Minna was betrayed into the seducer’s hands. You accompanied her, and by your presence increased the ardour with which I had resolved to labour at preserving the innocent girl; a service which I had already rendered to many others, who found themselves enveloped in the same snare.
I saw you, Urania; oh! how strong was the sympathy which attracted my heart towards you, my heart to which at this moment a friend is so necessary! It’s true I have a sister; but she.... But you have already seen Mellusina, and you shall now know her.
Mellusina is privy to the designs of her faithless husband. Nothing but the promise of overlooking all his errors of this nature, and the temptation of her immense wealth, could have induced Donat to bestow on her the title of his wife. She is neither lovely in person, nor amiable in manners; and she bears a mortal hatred to every woman, who possesses those advantages which Nature has denied to herself. I cannot boast much of her good will towards me; yet I am compelled to pay my court to her, that she may not injure me with my brother, of whose powerful help my dear unfortunate husband stands at present but too much in need.