I thanked him, and when he was going to leave me, asked him, “how does our royal hermit do?”
“He——is well, and you shall hear from him as soon as the Duke of B——a shall have dispossessed the King of Sp---n of the throne of P---t------.”
“But my old friend------”
“Will soon press you again to his bosom.”
“And Amelia?”
“Considering the terms on which you already are with her, you will not be in want of the assistance of my power.” So saying, he took, a friendly leave of me.
It was indeed high time that the Irishman released me from my engagement, for my stay at Mad---d began so grow extremely irksome to me. An irresistible power urged me to return to her who had inthralled me with magic bonds. My separation from her, and the letters I received from the dear woman, had heated my passion to the highest degree. Her letters, breathing nothing but tenderness and affection, were indeed entirely destitute of that fiery impetuosity of love which characterised mine; however, this was just adding fuel to the flame, which consumed me. I felt that I could not live without her. She did not indeed encourage my hope of getting possession of her hand, yet she did not repel it entirely, and several hints which Lady Delier had given me, served to support it. I was already computing with rapture the effect which my unexpected arrival would produce on Amelia, and made the necessary preparation, for my return to her without apprising her of it; however, my soul preceded these preparations, and only the lesser part of it was remaining at Mad---d; no wonder therefore, that the letters of my father, and the Marquis of Ferei*a, which recalled me to Port——l, had no effect upon me.
“I cannot divine,” the Marquis wrote to me, “what may have induced your father to return this year to the capital much earlier than usual. However, I can tell you that you will scarcely know him again when you shall see him. Ever since he pretends to have seen the ghost of Count Santeval, he is changed most wonderfully. He is in a state of utter apathy, gloomy and reserved, and I may truly say, superstitious. He avoids, since his late illness, as much as decency will permit, all conversation, even mine. There is but one person who has free access to him, and seems to have possessed himself entirely of his confidence. Let me give you a description of that man.
“Imagine to yourself an elderly man above the middle size, with a long, thin face, a yellow complexion, a strongly-furrowed brow, hollow, small, and red eyes, and staring, almost deadened features, which, when he smiles, changes into a kind of grinning. This physiognomy, of which no faithful verbal description can be given, and which has been stamped in a most unfavourable manner by nature’s forming hand, is softened by an affected air of piety; however, if examined minutely and narrowly, peeps with increased horrors through the borrowed veil. This countenance appears to me like a dreadful mystery, and I cannot behold it without secret terror. The tout ensemble of that man exactly fits this head---a sneaking gait—a stooping neck—a grey coat---but you must and will see him yourself. I hate him from the bottom of my soul, and think that he is not capable of a good action, and that his mere presence must be sufficient to dispel even from the hearts of others every noble sentiment. It would be a mystery to me, how your father can converse with him, if I did not know that he has been blinded by his hypocrisy and devout discourses. That man (he calls himself Alumbrado) pretends to be regenerated, and talks a great deal of the gifts of supernatural light. Your father, who takes for sterling truth whatever comes from his lips, seems to be more charmed with him every day. O hasten, my friend, to deliver your father from this ignoble, and, as I fear, dangerous enchantment. I think that an emotion like that which the sight of you after so long a separation, must cause in the mind of your father will be necessary to rouse from his apathy, &c. &c. &c.”
My situation rendered this letter, as I have already mentioned, ineffectual. The apprehensions of the Marquis appeared to me exaggerated; his unfavourable judgment of Alumbrado, originating from physiognomical reasons, unjust, and uncharitable, and my father old and sensible enough to see and avoid the danger, if any should be existing. I deemed the return to the Countess much more pressing than the journey to P————l, took leave of Oliva*z and Suma*ez, assuring them that the affair concerning the Duke of B——a had been pushed to a point where it soon would come to a crisis without our assistance. They were of the same opinion, and dismissed me in a very obliging manner.