The Prose Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, Vol. 1 [of 2]Shelley, Percy Bysshe
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The Prose Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, Vol. 1 [of 2]
Shelley, Percy Bysshe
English prose literature
It was long past midnight when each of the robbers withdrew to repose.
But his mind was too much occupied by the events of the evening to
allow the unhappy Wolfstein to find quiet;--at an early hour he rose
from his sleepless couch, to inhale the morning breeze. The sun had but
just risen; the scene was beautiful; everything was still, and seemed
to favour that reflection, which even propinquity to his abandoned
associates imposed no indefinably insuperable bar to. In spite of his
attempts to think upon other subjects, the image of the fair Megalena
floated in his mind. Her loveliness had made too deep an impression
on it to be easily removed; and the hapless Wolfstein, ever the
victim of impulsive feeling, found himself bound to her by ties, more
lasting than he had now conceived the transitory tyranny of woe could
have imposed. For never had Wolfstein beheld so singularly beautiful
a form;--her figure cast in the mould of most exact symmetry; her
blue and love-beaming eyes, from which occasionally emanated a wild
expression, seemingly almost superhuman; and the auburn hair which hung
in unconfined tresses down her damask cheek--formed a resistless _tout
ensemble_.
Heedless of every external object, Wolfstein long wandered. The
protracted sound of the bandits’ horn struck at last upon his ear, and
aroused him from his reverie. On his return to the cavern, the robbers
were assembled at their meal; the chief regarded him with marked and
jealous surprise as he entered, but made no remark. They then discussed
their uninteresting and monotonous topics, and the meal being ended,
each villain departed on his different business.
Megalena, finding herself alone with Agnes (the only woman, save
herself, who was in the cavern, and who served as an attendant on the
robbers), essayed, by the most humble entreaties and supplications, to
excite pity in her breast: she conjured her to explain the cause for
which she was thus imprisoned, and wildly inquired for her father. The
guilt-bronzed brow of Agnes was contracted by a sullen and malicious
frown: it was the only reply which the inhuman female deigned to
return. After a pause, however, she said, “Thou thinkest thyself my
superior, proud girl; but time may render us equals. Submit to that,
and you may live on the same terms as I do.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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