This speech, which was begun in a kneeling posture and in the softest tone, which a voice so naturally rough could adopt, assumed as it proceeded an air of menace, and was terminated by Gero with a terrible frown and a loud stroke upon the brazen pommel of his sword. Nearly the same discourse was repeated to her in the evening, (though conveyed in much milder language) by Randolf. She delivered such a reply, as circumstances compelled her to give, and trembled, as she listened to some obscure hints and disjointed observations, which fell from the outlaw, but which no solicitations could induce him to explain. However, she had heard enough to excite in her mind the most painful apprehensions, though not enough to certify their being well-grounded.
The preparations for setting out were soon completed: the treasures were packed up; and the Sisters were now informed, that the place of their destination was a narrow valley situated in the heart of the Mountains of Hapsburg. Gero and Randolf took a tender but respectful leave of the fair travellers, who were escorted by a small band of soldiers, composed of such members of this lawless society as were unfitted by advanced years for taking part in that great undertaking, to assist in which, the young and active were detained. The ladies set forward, but not till Ida had made some observations, which rendered her doubly impatient to commence her journey.
—“Oh! my sister,” she said, as soon as she found an opportunity of conversing without being overheard, “did you not observe among Randolf’s followers countenances, which you had seen before? In spite of their change of dress, I am certain, that the two who rode next to Gero were Friars, who often visited the Castle of Torrenburg.”—
—“Alas!” answered Constantia, “it is not now, that I learn for the first time, that a perfect understanding subsists between these robbers and the unworthy members of some religious community. During my confinement in Gero’s tent I frequently observed monks among his visitors; of whose principles you will judge, when I inform you, that they made no scruple to counsel my encouraging the licentious addresses of my jailor, though they were thoroughly persuaded, that I was a dedicated Nun: they offered to release me from my vows, laughed at (what they termed) the absurdity of my prejudices, promised me entire absolution, and advised me to pay no more respect to my veil, than they did to their cowls and scapularies. Conceive, dear Ida, my sufferings, while compelled to listen to such profane suggestions, and to repress the indignation, which they excited in my bosom.”—
—“And have you then no guess,” demanded Ida, “what is the object of an union so singular?—Did they never let fall a syllable, whence you could collect the nature of this mysterious enterprize, on which they are now departed?”—
Constantia declared her perfect ignorance on the subject.
“Alas! alas!” resumed Ida, “dreadful apprehensions force themselves upon my mind! Randolf frequently suffered hints to escape him, which the more that I reflect on them, serve but to confirm my fears the more. The robbers have a private understanding with the false Hilarius.—The Monks, whom I discovered in Randolf’s train, are of the same order with that betrayer!—It’s true, Count Frederick has treated me cruelly and unjustly, and now little merits, that I should feel anxiety on his account. Yet, oh! that I were but near him for one half hour, that I might warn him of the dangers, which hang over him and his, and which I would willingly avert, though the price were the last drop of my blood and the last breath existence.”—
The Sisters had full leisure in the wild solitude to which they were conveyed, to communicate to each other their mutual fears and melancholy forebodings. Ida’s insinuating manners soon rendered her a favourite with her grey-headed guards; and the persuasion of Constantia’s religious vocation made them bow with superstitious reverence at her approach, and hold it an honour to be suffered to kiss the hem of her sanctified garment. In consequence of these prepossessions in their favour, the Sisters had no other reason to complain of their treatment in confinement, than the confinement itself.
The place, in which they now resided, was inaccessible to all, except the robbers, and the rays of the sun. It was a flat spot surrounded by a chain of snow-covered mountains; one narrow footpath hewn in the rock was the only entrance, whose windings were known to none except the ferocious inhabitants of this valley; and which the sudden descent of weights of snow and of ice-splinters[[1]] from the over-hanging rocks frequently rendered for some time impracticable even for them. The Sisters shuddered, as they gazed upon the gigantic masses of rocks of ice, which glittered coldly around them as far as the eye could reach; and they could not conceal their terrors at reflecting, that a single motion of those cloud-covered summits would be sufficient to convert the valley into their inevitable grave. The chief of their guards, however, upon hearing them make this remark assured them, that this never would happen, because it never had happened yet.
[1]. Avalanches.