CHAPTER XXII.

Meanwhile it was necessary that I should make the best of the present

circumstances. My heart was wounded; my spirit was in a manner broken;

but not so utterly withered and destroyed as to make me rest supine in

perpetual imprisonment. I felt with equal conviction and pungency that

my character and my happiness had sustained the deepest injuries; but

I felt it incumbent on me to collect and improve the fragments that

remained. For some days indeed after the conference with Monluc, I

was sunk in the deepest dejection. But, as that dejection subsided, I

began to turn a steady attention upon the future. I recollected that

an eternal and inexhaustible gift deserved to be made the subject

of more than one experiment, before a decision was formed upon its

merits. I shall become wiser, said I, as I go forward. Experience,

however bitter, will teach me sagacity and discrimination. My next

experiment shall be made with more prudence and a soberer gradation.

I will remove to some distant country, where the disadvantages of my

past adventures shall not follow me. I will take a new name. I shall

then enjoy the benefit of a tyro just entering a scene, to all the

personages of which he is wholly unknown. I shall be like a serpent

that has stripped its tarnished and wrinkled skin, and comes forth in

all the gloss and sleekness of youth. Surely, in an unknown land, with

the prejudice of wealth in my favour, and no prejudices against me, I

shall know how to conduct myself so as to obtain honour and respect.

It is impossible that inexhaustible wealth and immortal youth, gifts

so earnestly coveted by every creature that lives, gifts which if I

were known to possess, my whole species from the mere impulses of envy

would probably combine to murder me, as not able to endure the sight of

one so elevated above his brethren,--it is impossible that such gifts

should not be pregnant with variety of joy.

Marguerite greatly contributed to raise me from the dejection, into

which my imprisonment and the conference of Monluc had sunk me. She

was my better genius. I had been so accustomed to receive consolation

from her lips in the most trying circumstances, that now the very

sound of her voice was able to smooth my wrinkled brow, and calm my

agitated spirit. I listened as to the sound of an angelic lyre; I

was all ear; I drank in the accents of her tongue; and, in the dear

delight, my cares were hushed, and my sorrows at an end. She talked to

me of her daughters, whom she represented as about to have no protector

but their father; she urged me to watch over them, and to take such

steps as should most conduce to their future virtue and happiness;

she pointed out the practicability of escape, and recommended to me

to fly to some distant country: the dreams of future prosperity from

the gifts of the stranger were not hers; they were all my own. It was

inexpressibly affecting at this time to receive consolation from her,

who had no consolation in her own breast, who had bid farewell to all

the gay attractions of the world, and talked familiarly of her death as

a thing certain to happen in no very long time. She had lost the purest

gratifications of the domestic scene; she had lost her son; her heart

was broken; yet with her dying accents she sought to dispel retrospect,

and inspire cheerfulness, in the breast of her husband.

The reader may perhaps imagine that I was something too sanguine,

when, surrounded with jailors and all the precautions of a prison, I

planned the nature and scene of my next residence exactly as if I had

been a person at large. But I took it for granted that the power of

money I possessed would easily unlock to me the gates of my captivity.

I believed that, upon the lowest calculation, personal liberty was

clearly included among the gifts of the stranger. Impressed with this

opinion, I fixed upon a negro, a servant of the prison, and who had the

keys of my apartment, as the subject of my pecuniary experiment. The

idea of applying to him had perhaps first occurred to me, from the mere

circumstance of my seeing him more frequently than any other attendant

of the prison. When I thought further of the matter, I judged, from

the meanness of his rank and his apparent poverty, that I could not

have chosen better. So far as related to the sum to be paid as the

price of my liberty, it was indeed indifferent to me, whether it were

large or small. I had however suffered so much from the inconsiderate

lavishing of wealth, that I had no inclination on the present occasion

to make ostentation of more than was necessary. But, what was of most

importance to me, I was desirous that my first experiment should be a

successful one. Though not unaware of the power of gold, I conceived

that, among persons of middling rank and easier circumstances, there

might be varieties of disposition, and I might be mistaken in my

choice. Some might have the whim of integrity, or might place a sturdy

sort of pride in showing that they were content with what they had,

and were too high for a bribe. There might be persons who, though of

plebeian rank, might value reputation as much as ever I had done, and

be of opinion that no advance of station could compensate for the name

or the consciousness of dishonour. These distinctions may seem an idle

and superfluous refinement, when it is considered that I had the power

of raising my bribe to the level of any man’s honesty or pride, be it

as great as it might; and it may be thought that my offer might be so

increased as to be too dazzling for mortal firmness to resist. Be that

as it will, I am merely stating the reflections that passed through my

mind, not entering into their vindication.

Taking the first opportunity then of accosting this man when he was

alone with me, I addressed him thus:--

“My good friend, are not you poor?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Would not you readily do me a kindness?”

“If my master give me leave, I will.”

“You mistake me. Would you be my friend?”

“I do not know what you mean, sir. I have been used to call the man I

love my friend. If you mean that, you know I cannot choose whether I

will be a man’s friend; it comes of itself.”

“Can I not make you my friend?”

“That is, make me love you?”

I was surprised at the propriety of his answers. I am unable at this

distance of time to recall the defects of his language: and I disdain

the mimic toil of inventing a jargon for him suitable to the lowness

of his condition: the sense of what he said I faithfully report. I had

before been struck with a certain correctness of thinking in him; but

I now examined his countenance more attentively than I had ever before

done, and thought I could distinctly trace in it the indications of a

sound understanding and an excellent heart.

“I do not know, sir,” continued he. “If I see that you are a good man,

I believe I shall love you. But if it happened that you were good and

generous to me, I am sure I should love you very much.”

“You are very poor?”

“So they tell me. I never had more than a shilling or two at a time in

my life.”

“It is a very sad thing to be poor?”

“Why, yes, so I have heard, sir. But, for my own part, I am always

merry and gay.”

“My good fellow, I will make you rich.”

“Thank you, sir! But what good will that do me?”

“You are a servant: I will make you a master of servants.”

“Now, that I should not like at all. I am merry, because I am

light-hearted. If I had money, and property to take care of, and

servants to direct, I am afraid they would make me grave and

suspicious, and in every respect unlike what you see me.”

“Is it possible you should be pleased with your present situation,

under the orders of one man in a house, and obliged to play the tyrant

to the rest?”

“Why, as you say, sir, there may be more agreeable situations than the

life of a jail. But, as to being under orders, I have no objection to

that. I never knew any other condition, and therefore I am contented.

It is not pleasant indeed to have a master who is always scolding and

dissatisfied; but the gentleman I serve at present is reasonable; I

know how to content him, and, when I have done that, he leaves me to

please myself. You offer me money: now, sir, that is not what I call

being generous; I count nothing for much, except when a man shows me

has bowels, and convinces me that he thinks justice due even to a

negro. I dare say however you designed it for generosity, and expected

something from me in return. Tell me what it is you want, and whatever

I can do with propriety, you may depend on it I will.”

“Do you approve of a man’s being deprived of his liberty?”

“Will you please to tell me what you mean by liberty? You offered me

just now what you called liberty and independence; and I am content to

be a servant.”

“Would you be pleased, instead of being a turnkey, to have the key

turned on yourself?”

“That I should not. I understand the disagreeableness of that well

enough, for when I first entered this place, it was as a prisoner.”

“If then, my good fellow, you were convinced that I was a man disposed

to be generous to you in your own way, and to deserve your attachment

and love, surely you would not refuse to deliver me from a situation

which you have yourself felt to be so disagreeable and calamitous.”

“I understand you now, sir. I have already a master with whom I am

satisfied, and I do not wish to change my service. When I was a

prisoner, he found out that I was innocent; he got me cleared, and

gave me employment. I am put here for the express purpose of seeing

the prisoners in safe custody. That is the contract between me and my

master. When I took the keys, by that action I pledged myself to be

faithful to my trust; and the nobleness of my master’s behaviour to me

in removing me from being a prisoner to be a free servant, is a double

bond upon my fidelity. I would sooner consent to be torn limb from

limb, than fail in what is expected from me. You may be generous to a

harmless stranger; you have most reason to be generous to a man you

love; but, if you would heap benefits upon me merely because I proved

myself a villain, I can only say it would be disgraceful to be the

object of your favour.”

Thus saying, he quitted me, and withdrew from further parley. The

conversation in which we had engaged, though I had had considerable

experience in the world, was altogether new to me, and overwhelmed

me with astonishment. I found in this trial, that the power of

money was subject to limitations, of which previously I had not been

in the slightest degree aware. I thought that nothing but the most

extraordinary degree of resolution and self-denial could enable a man

to resist its enticements; and I had even been told, though I did

not believe, that every man had his price, and a bribe capable of

indefinite augmentation must be in all cases victorious. Yet here was

a poor creature utterly exempt from its operation. He had no sense of

those attractions, which so often degrade the best, and convert virtue

into the most shameless profligacy. It cost him no effort to be honest,

and he uttered sentiments that would have given lustre to the most

heroic character, without any consciousness of their greatness. What

I had seen, led me also to reflect on another singularity I discerned

in him. In the midst of the admirable, I had almost said the sublime,

integrity he discovered, (for is it not a criterion of the sublime

to be great without an effort?) he was destitute of knowledge, of

intellectual cultivation, and all those exquisite sensations that most

distinguish the man from the brute. He passed on quietly in the road

of ordinary life, and thought not of the ambition to be wise or great,

to be honoured by thousands, or a benefactor to ages yet unborn. Kings

might have confessed their inferiority to this man. But is he to be

regarded as the model of what a human creature should be wished to be?

Oh, no!

But the most memorable feeling impressed upon me by this conversation,

was a conviction of what I had been backward to confess, that knaves

were the persons to whose assistance and concert I must look, and that

I must be upon my guard against an honest man. No one was qualified to

be my coadjutor, till he had proved himself unworthy of all just and

honourable society. The friend I must seek, was a man whose very soul

melted at a bribe, whom money would seduce to perpetrate whatever his

judgment most abhorred. Honour and integrity in the most refined and

the rudest state, Monluc and the negro, both refused. It is impossible

to conceive a sensation more painful and humiliating, than was this

conviction to my mind.

I was not long at leisure for these reflections. In a few minutes the

master of the prison entered my apartment, and with him the negro whom

I had endeavoured to prevail on to assist in restoring me to liberty.

The master began to reproach me in very harsh terms for attempting to

seduce his servant from his duty, and asked me what sort of enjoyment

or satisfaction a man could have in life, if he could not depend

upon the people he put into his employment? To this I answered with

sternness, “that I should hold no debate about right and wrong with a

jailor; that he might depend upon it I would leave no stone unturned to

set myself free, and, what was more, that I would be free; and that,

for his part, it was his business to keep me if he could, but not to

insult me.” I therefore insisted upon his quitting the room.

“What use,” replied the fellow, “do you think now there is in putting

yourself in a passion? If I have not a right to speak to you, I know

what I have a right to do, put you in the strong room, and load you

with irons.”

I turned my back upon him. “And how came you,” said I to the negro, “to

go and betray me? I should have expected better things of you. If you

refused to serve me, at least you needed not have endeavoured to hurt

me.”

“I did nothing but my duty, sir. I have no wish to hurt you: but it is

my business, not merely to take care of my master’s interests myself,

but to see that they are not injured by any body else. If he was not

put on his guard, you might have been more successful with the next

turnkey you endeavoured to bribe.”

“You will find it more to your interest, monsieur,” interposed the

jailor, “to talk to me than to my servant. You are determined to be

free, you say. If that is the case, and it is to happen, who has so

good a right to benefit by your resolution as I have?”

My eyes were opened in a moment. I saw that the knave whose rigour and

sternness could not hold out against the warmth of a bribe, the friend

of whose assistance I was in want, stood before me.

“I do not wonder,” proceeded he, “that you preferred applying to one

of my servants. Their honesty must be expected to be had at a cheaper

market. But, for my part, I am determined that no man shall ever pass

these walls, without my being the richer. If then your escape is a

thing that must happen, let us see what you can afford to give me for

it.”

“Dear master,” interposed the negro, “you surely will not listen to the

gentleman’s offer. When I refused to betray my trust, it is impossible

you should consent to betray yours!”

“Hold your tongue, blockhead!” said the other. “Do not you see that

monsieur is determined to escape? I know he is rich. Though you have

refused a bribe, I am sure that all your fellows will not. The thing

will happen sooner or later in spite of every thing I can do; and there

can be no harm in my helping to bring about, what it is impossible I

should prevent.”

A morality like this seems exactly in its place in the breast of a

jailor. We had already made some progress in adjusting the terms of our

contract, when the keeper of the prison interposed:--

“But, monsieur, you will please to remark, that this is an affair which

will be attended with difficulty. Whatever passes between you and me

must be a secret. Your escape will be a thing open and notorious, and

you must have a confederate, that I may not bear the blame of it. You

must therefore take my black here along with you, that his flight may

cause all the blame to fall upon him.”

“O, pray, master,” said the negro, “do not part with me! I love you,

and will do any thing in the world, if you will let me stay. You saved

my life for aught I know, and made a man of me again; you cannot think

what good it does me to serve a master that has been so kind to me!”

“Get you gone!” replied his owner. “You are of no use to me; you are

not fit for a jail; you are so simple, I cannot tell what to do with

you!”

“Indeed I do not like to go with this gentleman; it will break my

heart. He said he would be generous and kind to me, if I turned a

villain; I shall never be able, and shall never desire to earn his

kindness: but you rewarded me because I was innocent. He said he would

make a master of me; and I am better as I am; I had much rather be a

servant.”

The difficulties of this poor fellow were soon silenced by the

peremptoriness of his master. The jailor told him that he would

do him a great service, by thus giving his master an opportunity

of representing him as the traitor; and, with this consideration,

the negro dried his tears, and with a reluctant heart consented to

accompany me. Thus were his exemplary fidelity and affection rewarded!

So little do some men seem capable of feeling the value of attachment!

The character of the master was a singular one. The meanness and

mercenariness of his spirit were unredeemed by a single virtue. He was

avarice personified. But he had found or imagined an interest in taking

this negro, who had been want only thrown into prison by a former

tyrant, for his servant; and this the poor fellow, in the simplicity of

his heart, had mistaken for an act of exalted generosity. His avarice

had swallowed up all his other passions; and his servants had neither

impatience nor insolence to encounter from him: weighed therefore

in the balance of the negro’s experience, he appeared a miracle of

mildness and benevolence.

Our bargain was at length concluded; and, the next time Marguerite

came to visit me, I announced to her the success of my negotiation.

Before we parted, we sent for the jailor, and discussed with him the

road I should take. My purpose was to pass into Italy; and Marguerite

undertook by midnight to have every thing prepared to convey us to

the foot of the mountains. This point being adjusted, the keeper of

the prison left us; and, tenderly embracing Marguerite, I besought

her to congratulate me upon the recovery of my liberty. She had heard

however of the infamous nature of the charge against me, and, though

she yielded it no credit, I could easily perceive that it rendered

yet heavier the depression under which she laboured. She returned

my embrace; the tears stole down her cheeks; but she was silent.

I endeavoured to divert her thoughts and re-animate her spirits,

by hinting at the new scenes before us, and the distant country to

which we were about to remove; but in vain. “I will not reproach you,

Reginald!” said she; “I will not desert my duty while I have power to

perform it; you may depend upon my doing every thing I am able both

for the children and yourself!”

She left me in a very melancholy frame of mind. I had not expected

to see her thus languid and disconsolate; and upon the eve of my

liberation, I felt it like caprice. Incomparable woman! She was

incapable of giving intentional pain: but, with her exquisitely

susceptible mind, she was unable to support the dreadful reverse in

which I had involved her, or even at times to assume the gestures of

cheerfulness and tranquillity; gestures that, at the best, but ill

disguised the grief within!

I was busily reflecting on what had just occurred, when the keeper of

the prison re-entered my apartment. “I am come, monsieur,” said he, “to

take my leave of you. As I do not at all intend to lose my place, it is

not proper that I should see you any more. You understand me?”

Two days had already elapsed since the conclusion of our contract, and

I had provided myself for this and such other demands as seemed likely

to be immediately impending. I should have preferred indeed to have

delayed this payment till the moment of my departure: but what the

jailor suggested appeared reasonable; and I could not assign, even to

my own mind, any cause why I should be reluctant to comply with it. I

paid to this wretch the price of his villany.

I now began to count the hours, and eagerly to anticipate the arrival

of midnight. Though the moment of my liberty was so near, I yet

contemplated with unspeakable loathing the scene of my confinement,

which was associated with the deepest disgrace and the blackest charges

that are incident to a human creature. I felt as if, in proportion as I

removed from the hated spot, I should at least shake off a part of the

burthen that oppressed me, and grow comparatively young again.

Time was far from moving indeed with the rapidity my impatience

required; but the hour of appointment at last was near, and I expected

every moment the faithful negro to appear, and announce to me my

freedom. The cathedral bell now sounded twelve; I heard the noise of

steps along the gallery; and presently a key was applied to the door

of my apartment. It opened; and three persons, whom I knew for servants

of the prison, entered.

“Come, sir,” said one of them; “you must follow me.”

“Where is my friend the negro?” said I.

“Ask no questions; speak never a word; but come.”

It was strange that the master of the prison, whose temper was so full

of anxiety and caution, should unnecessarily trust three of his people,

who might easily have been kept ignorant of this hazardous secret!

This circumstance however did not strike me at first so strongly as it

ought to have done. I had perfect confidence in his fidelity to his

profligate bargain, and expected every moment to meet the negro who was

to be my guide. My conductors led me by a way which I soon perceived

did not lead to the ordinary entrance of the prison.

“Where are we going?” said I.

“Hold your tongue, or you will spoil all;” replied one of them roughly.

I bethought me that there might be an objection to the dismissing me by

the public gate; I recollected to have heard that there were several

subterranean outlets to the citadel; I judged from the words I had

just heard that my conductors were acquainted with the plan that had

been formed; and for all these reasons I proceeded with tolerable ease

and security. I was not much longer however permitted to doubt. I was

conducted to one of the dungeons of the prison, and told that there I

was to remain. At first I remonstrated loudly, and told them “that I

had been promised my liberty, and not a treatment like this.”

“We know that, sir,” replied they, “and that is the reason you are

brought here. It is our business to teach you that the greatest offence

that can be committed by a man in prison is to attempt to escape.”

The shock and surprise that so unexpected an issue to my adventure

produced, rendered me outrageous. I was no longer able to control my

fury; and, without knowing what I proposed, I knocked down two of my

attendants before they had an opportunity to secure me, and rushed

up the flight of steps by which we had descended. The third however

contrived to intercept me; and, while we struggled, the other two came

to his assistance. They loaded me with fetters and chained me to the

wall. I was then left in utter darkness.

I felt myself sore with the bruises I had received in the contest;

but what was infinitely worse, I found the expectations of freedom I

had so confidently entertained, baffled and disappointed. Marguerite

and my children were at this moment waiting for me to join them. They

would probably wait hour after hour in vain. To what cause would they

attribute my failing of my appointment? To what cause was I myself to

attribute my miscarriage? My hopes in this instance had been in the

utmost degree sanguine; what was I to count upon for the future? Was

money useless in every instance in which mankind agreed to think its

power unquestionable? What was the source of the present catastrophe

and the harsh treatment I endured? Was the keeper of the prison

discovered, and dismissed from his office? Had the negro gone and given

information against him? I formed a thousand conjectures as to what

might have happened; but I was unable to rest in any.

I had remained about twelve hours in this situation, full of angry

and disconsolate thoughts, when the principal jailor entered my

dungeon. I looked at him with astonishment; the cloud vanished from my

understanding, and I began to comprehend the solution of the enigma.

“Are you at large?” cried I, with indignation: “why then am I here?”

“You are here by my orders.”

“Execrable villain!” said I. “Did you not promise me my freedom?

Have you not received the price of it? How dare you show yourself in

my presence?” As I spoke, I shook my chains, I clenched my fists, I

trembled with resentment and rage.

“If you are not perfectly quiet and reasonable,” said he, “I shall

leave you to your fate and return no more.”

Nothing is more singular in a state of great mental effervescence, than

the rapidity with which our ideas succeed each other. At such times we

seem to think more in minutes than at other times in hours. I felt

how miserable a slave a man is, the moment he falls completely into

the power of another. The wretch who stood before me was more vacant

of human affections than any one I ever saw. Yet I was his creature,

to be moulded as he pleased. A thousand injuries he could inflict upon

me, for which neither the institutions of society nor the extraordinary

endowments I derived from the stranger could afford a remedy. He might

so torture my mind and baffle my wishes, as to kill in me every spark

of lofty adventure and generous pride. My liberty might, for aught I

knew, be for years at his disposal. I felt however that my best course

was to regard him with contempt, and use him as I would a spade or

a file, to execute my purposes, without suffering him to awaken my

passions. I immediately grew more calm, and he perceived the revolution

of my sentiments.

“You seem to wonder,” continued he, “that I did not keep my engagement

with you? I pride myself upon being superior to the prejudices, by

which other men are frightened, like children with a bugbear. I have

therefore no rule but my interest: and I did not see how my interest

bound me to keep my engagement with you.”

“And what became of the countess?”

“I neither know nor care. I suppose she stayed all night under the

walls; I knew she durst not disturb the prison.”

I felt I had still emotions to suppress. I curbed my tongue, but they

showed themselves in my eyes.

“How do you intend to dispose of me?”

“Keep you in close custody. I have got your thousand pounds; the next

thing for me to take care of is, that I do not lose my place.”

“And for what purpose do you come to me now?”

“Why to tell you a secret, I have not quite determined what conduct

to pursue, and therefore I came here that I might have a better

opportunity of judging.”

“Are you not afraid that I should inform the government how you have

cheated me?”

“You inform! Have not I got you under lock and key? I warrant you, I

will take care what goes out of these walls to the government.”

“The countess has a licence to visit me.”

“What care I for that? I can keep her at bay as long as I will. She

will not easily go to the government; and she is not such a fool as

not to know, that to lodge a complaint against me, is not the way to

procure the liberty of a man condemned to perpetual imprisonment. I

can at any time trump up a story of your attempting to corrupt the

turnkeys, and be sure, when I do, I will not want for proofs. That will

cover any thing I can do to annoy you, and answer any accusation you

can make against me. Do you think that the word of a jailor will not be

taken, before that of the murderer he has in custody?”

“I can bring your own servants as witnesses, three of whom assaulted me

last night.”

“Dunce, do you think I trusted them with my secret? They have nothing

to tell, and apprehend nothing but a plot between you and my black,

who has been put into the penitentiary for his offence. He is my only

confident; and I trust him, because his stupidity answers to me for his

faith.”

“Suppose I were to double the bribe for which you sold me my liberty,

what security should I have that you would abide by your bargain?”

“Oh, if you were to do that, it would alter the case.”

“Might you not then detain the money, and defy me, as you have done

now?”

“Suppose that a thing which might happen: can you help yourself? can

you do better?”

I saw there was no remedy, and I was constrained to allow the success

of this twofold perfidy. It was with an ill grace, and an attempt at

sullenness and indifference, that the jailor accepted my proposal.

The second thousand however had irresistible charms; and, in spite of

himself, the sensation that made his heart dance, relaxed his muscles,

and played about his mouth. He was puzzled what to think of me. The

facility with which I produced the sums he demanded, with less apparent

effort than they might have come from a duke or a sovereign prince,

startled and staggered him. He had still his qualms, and evidently

doubted whether he should not raise his price a third time. I saw no

safety but in pertinacity and firmness, and had the good fortune

ultimately to check his doubtful, half-formed experiments.

I was led by the accidents which have just been related, into further

and deeper reflections on the power of money, as well as on the nature

of the situation in which I found myself placed by the legacy of the

stranger. My present experiment had been made upon a subject apparently

the most favourable that could have been devised, upon a man whose

breast the love of gold occupied without a rival: yet with this man

I very hardly succeeded. I was not indeed so blinded by the present

dejection of my spirit and sickness of my heart, as to imagine that I

had not a secure game with this base-minded wretch, if I consented to

play it. I had only to enlarge my bribe, to change it from the limited

sum of two thousand pounds to the more brilliant offer of two thousand

per annum, and no doubt I might have led him with me to the extremity

of the globe. However he might have demurred, however he might have

doubted, however curiosity, whetted even to agony by the goadings

of avarice, might have prompted him to an incessant enquiry within

himself as to the solution of my character and my powers, his grasping

spirit would infallibly have chained his tongue, and been surety for

his fidelity. But I could not yet prevail upon myself to endow such

groveling and noxious propensities with so rich a reward. I considered,

in the language of the stranger, that the talent I possessed was of the

most momentous nature, and bestowed by the governor of the universe for

the highest purposes; and I should have held myself unjustifiable in

enriching by its means, however urgent the necessity might appear, the

most worthless of mankind.

The sentiments of my tyrant varied every hour; he was fickle, anxious,

and undetermined; harassed with the double fear of losing the sum

already obtained, and of not securing the whole of what was capable

of being acquired. He parted with me at last with all the pangs of a

lover, who witnesses the ceremony of his mistress’s taking the monastic

veil, and being sundered from him for ever. I was his Fortunatus’s

purse, and this was the last day he was to enjoy the use of it; I was

to him as the buried treasure of some long-forgotten hoarder, and

he feared he should quit his digging before he had carried off every

thing that the field concealed. At length however he began to apprehend

that he had urged the refinement of an unprincipled avarice as far

as it would go; and therefore in a few days, the negro being already

discharged from his penance, he suffered us to escape together.

St. Leon: A Tale of the Sixteenth Century · 第 22 / 47 章