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The Monk; a romance by M. G. (Matthew Gregory) Lewis
page 72 of 516 (13%)
chance conducted me to the Cathedral of the Capuchins. Oh!
surely on that day my Guardian Angel slumbered neglectful of his
charge! Then was it that I first beheld you: You supplied the
Superior's place, absent from illness. You cannot but remember
the lively enthusiasm which your discourse created. Oh! how I
drank your words! How your eloquence seemed to steal me from
myself! I scarcely dared to breathe, fearing to lose a syllable;
and while you spoke, Methought a radiant glory beamed round your
head, and your countenance shone with the majesty of a God. I
retired from the Church, glowing with admiration. From that
moment you became the idol of my heart, the never-changing object
of my Meditations. I enquired respecting you. The reports which
were made me of your mode of life, of your knowledge, piety, and
self-denial riveted the chains imposed on me by your eloquence.
I was conscious that there was no longer a void in my heart; That
I had found the Man whom I had sought till then in vain. In
expectation of hearing you again, every day I visited your
Cathedral: You remained secluded within the Abbey walls, and I
always withdrew, wretched and disappointed. The Night was more
propitious to me, for then you stood before me in my dreams; You
vowed to me eternal friendship; You led me through the paths of
virtue, and assisted me to support the vexations of life. The
Morning dispelled these pleasing visions; I woke, and found
myself separated from you by Barriers which appeared
insurmountable. Time seemed only to increase the strength of my
passion: I grew melancholy and despondent; I fled from society,
and my health declined daily. At length no longer able to exist
in this state of torture, I resolved to assume the disguise in
which you see me. My artifice was fortunate: I was received
into the Monastery, and succeeded in gaining your esteem.
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