The spirit which lately animated Julia had vanished with her
words--each moment of silence increased her apprehension; the deep
brooding of his thoughts confirmed her in the apprehension of evil,
and with all the artless eloquence of sorrow she endeavoured to soften
him to pity. He listened to her pleadings in sullen stillness. But
each instant now cooled the fervour of his resentment to her, and
increased his desire of opposing the marquis. At length the
predominant feature of his character resumed its original influence,
and overcame the workings of subordinate passion. Proud of his
religious authority, he determined never to yield the prerogative of
the church to that of the father, and resolved to oppose the violence
of the marquis with equal force.
He therefore condescended to relieve Julia from her terrors, by
assuring her of his protection; but he did this in a manner so
ungracious, as almost to destroy the gratitude which the promise
demanded. She hastened with the joyful intelligence to Madame de
Menon, who wept over her tears of thankfulness.
CHAPTER XI
Near a fortnight had elapsed without producing any appearance of
hostility from the marquis, when one night, long after the hour of
repose, Julia was awakened by the bell of the monastery. She knew it
was not the hour customary for prayer, and she listened to the sounds,
which rolled through the deep silence of the fabric, with strong
surprise and terror. Presently she heard the doors of several cells
creak on their hinges, and the sound of quick footsteps in the
passages--and through the crevices of her door she distinguished
passing lights. The whispering noise of steps increased, and every
person of the monastery seemed to have awakened. Her terror
heightened; it occurred to her that the marquis had surrounded the
abbey with his people, in the design of forcing her from her retreat;
and she arose in haste, with an intention of going to the chamber of
Madame de Menon, when she heard a gentle tap at the door. Her enquiry
of who was there, was answered in the voice of madame, and her fears
were quickly dissipated, for she learned the bell was a summons to
attend a dying nun, who was going to the high altar, there to receive
extreme unction.
She quitted the chamber with madame. In her way to the church, the
gleam of tapers on the walls, and the glimpse which her eye often
caught of the friars in their long black habits, descending silently
through the narrow winding passages, with the solemn toll of the bell,
conspired to kindle imagination, and to impress her heart with sacred
awe. But the church exhibited a scene of solemnity, such as she had
never before witnessed. Its gloomy aisles were imperfectly seen by the
rays of tapers from the high altar, which shed a solitary gleam over
the remote parts of the fabric, and produced large masses of light and
shade, striking and sublime in their effect.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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