—“Liberty?” she repeated; “no, Luprian; at your price it would be too dearly purchased. Urge me no more to be the partner of your flight: could I have ever stooped to disgrace, I need not have languished so long in this dreary dungeon. If I have no choice left but death or infamy, I prefer the former; leave me, and let me die!—And yet.... Oh! God in Heaven! To part with even the most miserable existence is so bitter.... Oh! it is still so bitter!”
“I saw, that it would be vain for me to labour any more at making myself understood; and the faint tone, in which these last words were uttered, alarmed me. Yet I spoke once again, but no answer was returned; I doubted not, that the unfortunate had fainted.
“How I might effect her delivery with the utmost celerity, I knew not; yet in my anguish and uncertainty I accidentally struck upon that, which was most prudent: I hastened to the small temporary building inhabited by Abbot John and his Monks; I related in a few words what had happened, and requested their advice.
“The Fraternity one and all hastened with me to the vault, every one bearing a mattock, a pick-axe, or some such instrument. They were holy benevolent men, resembling the original founders of their Order, and had escaped as it were by a miracle from the flames, in which their guilty brethren had perished. They were eager to redeem by their own conduct the slur, which the crimes of others had brought upon their Convent, and were as greedy of good actions, as most other Monks are of rich legacies and well-stored cellars.
“We were now near the vault, and already the beams of the distant lamp struck our eyes; but on our entrance, those among us who were best-sighted were aware, that the vault was not so totally unoccupied, as I had left it. By the glimmerings of a small lanthorn a tall dark figure was descried, kneeling on the before-mentioned grating. I sprang forward. The stranger heard my steps, started from the ground, and rushed by me so suddenly, that I attempted to stop him in vain. I called to the approaching Monks not to let him pass; but before they could reach him, his foot stumbled, and he fell prostrate on the ground.
“Totally engrossed by their impatience to rescue the prisoner, my companions were hastening forwards without paying any attention to the stranger; but a thought, which passed through my mind like a flash of light, made me conceive, how important it was to examine him. I flattered myself, that I should discover in him that same Luprian, whom the unfortunate had mentioned, and who in all probability was her gaoler. Should my conjecture prove correct, I considered this meeting as a great step towards her deliverance: I therefore grasped him firmly by the arm, and dragged him towards the lamp, in order that I might examine my prize.
“I beheld a miserable creature, enveloped in the ragged habit of a monk, and whose bloodless cheeks, sunk eyes, and emaciated limbs would have excited my deepest compassion, had I not had good cause to harbour suspicions, that compassion was a sentiment, of which he was but little deserving.
—“Art thou Luprian?” said I in a thundering voice.
“He sank at my feet, and stammered out an avowal.
—“Wretch!” I continued; “what motive could induce thee to confine an unfortunate woman in yonder subterraneous dungeon?”—