The Governess; Or, The Little Female AcademyFielding, Sarah
General
The Governess; Or, The Little Female Academy
Fielding, Sarah
Didactic fiction; Girls' schools -- Fiction; Governesses -- Fiction; School children -- Fiction; Schools -- Fiction
The giant now no sooner perceived, from the last words of the affrighted
youth, what was most likely to give them the greatest torment, than with
a spiteful grin which made his horrible face yet more horrible, and in
a hollow voice, as loud as thunder, he tauntingly cried out, ‘Ho-hoh!
You’d not be parted, would you? For once I’ll gratify thy will, and thou
shalt follow this thy whimpering fondling down my capatious maw.’ So
saying, he turned his ghastly visage on the trembling Amata who, being
now no longer able to support herself under his cruel threats, fainted
away, and remained in his hand but as a lifeless corpse. When lifting
up his eyes towards the hill on the opposite side, he beheld Benefico
coming hastily towards him. This good giant having been that morning
informed that Barbarico was roaming in the mountains after prey,
left his peaceful castle, in hopes of giving protection to whatever
unfortunate creature should fall into the clutches of this so cruel a
monster.
Barbarico, at the sight of the friendly Benefico, started with fear; for
although in bulk and stature he was, as we have said, the superior: yet
that cowardice, which ever accompanies wickedness, now wrought in him in
such a manner that he could not bear to confront him, well knowing the
courage and fortitude that always attend the good and virtuous; and
therefore instantly putting Fidus into the wallet that hung over his
shoulder, he flung the fainting Amata, whom he took to be quite expired,
into the stream that ran hard by, and fled to his cave, not daring once
to cast his eyes behind him.
The good Benefico perceiving the monster’s flight, and not doubting but
he had been perpetrating some horrid mischief, immediately hastened
to the brook; where he found the half-expiring Amata floating down
the stream, for her clothes had yet borne her up on the surface of the
water. He speedily stepped in and drew her out, and taking her in his
arms, pressed her to his warm bosom; and in a short space perceiving
in her face the visible marks of returning life, his heart swelled with
kind compassion, and he thus bespoke the tender maid: ‘Unhappy damsel,
lift up thy gentle eyes, and tell me by what hard fate thou hast fallen
into the power of that barbarous monster, whose savage nature delights
in nothing but ruin and desolation. Tremble not thus, but without fear
or terror behold one who joys in the thought of having saved thee from
destruction, and will bring thee every comfort his utmost power can
procure.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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