tocherish the persecutor of our holy religion, in the persons of her mostfaithful servants; if thou still wilt refuse to receive the fathers ofthe Order of Jesus into thy palace, and trustest to the vain words andcounsels of the pampered and false sons of our Church, then will aspeedy vengeance fall on thy head. Even now is thy name registeredamong those doomed to die, who will not repent of their sins: even nowhas the fiat of thy fate gone forth, which naught but the prayers of thefaithful can turn aside. Be warned, then, O King! in time. Repent! andbe saved from destruction. If not, before many suns have set, thyhaughty head shall be brought low, and thou shalt mingle with the dustfrom whence thou sprangest. Ah! thy dying groans now ring upon mineear. I see thy blood-stained corpse upon the ground, while the demonsof hell rejoice that they have gained another victim. Thy proud raceshall cease, and thy name shall be held in abhorrence by all thefaithful followers of our holy religion."
"Cease, cease, whoever thou art, mysterious man," exclaimed the King,interrupting him, and trembling with agitation. "We tarried not to hearwords like these. We fancied that thou earnest to inform us of someplot against our throne and life. Speak, who art thou? that we may knowhow much credence to give to thy words."
"I am one whom thou hast persecuted--I am the Father Malagrida!"
"Ah! why, then, this strange garb? and how darest thou to approach ourroyal person?" cried the King.
"I dare do all that is commanded me; and for this peasant garb, itenabled me, unperceived, to enter this domain, where, living on theberries of the trees, and roots from the earth, have I long waited tomeet thee thus. Wilt thou then promise to amend and turn from thywickedness?"
"Silence! daring Priest!" cried the King. "Begone to the town appointedfor thy residence, or I will command my attendants to seize thee, andcommit thee to the lowest dungeon in our prisons."
"I fear thee not, and dare thy vengeance! Thou hast set the seal uponthine own fate. From henceforth no warning voice shall meet thine ear;and rapidly shalt thou run thy course unto destruction. I would havesaved thee, but thou wouldest not be saved. Wretched Monarch, we meetno more!"
Joseph, who wanted not personal courage, (indeed cowardice has neverbeen a failing of his race,) and was above the vulgar superstitions ofhis country, enraged more than terrified by these daring threats, madean attempt to seize the mad Jesuit; but Malagrida, perceiving hisintention, eluded his grasp, and uttering a loud laugh of derision,plunged among the rocks and brushwood, whither it was impossible for theKing to follow on horseback.
In vain the Monarch attempted to cut off his retreat. After searchingfor him for a considerable time, he was obliged to desist; and then setoff at full speed, in the hopes of quickly finding the Minister and hisnobles, and despatching people to apprehend the daring Jesuit.
The Duke and his attendant watched eagerly for his approach; everyinstant they expected to triumph in his destruction; at last they beheldhim galloping towards them through the wood, when the loud shouts ofmen, the sound of horses, and the barking of the hounds, broke on theirears, nearer approaching the spot where they were concealed. Onwardcame the King, when, as he was within a few yards of them, a wolf,closely pursued by the most active dogs, dashed by, his eyes straining,and his mouth covered with foam from rage and terror. The King,forgetful of the scene in which he had just engaged, and of everythingexcept the excitement of the sport, turned his horse's head, and gavechase after the wolf. The savage animal, already almost spent withfatigue, was quickly overtaken, and ere he could stand at bay, the spearof the King had pinned him to the ground, when the dogs setting on him,had almost torn him to pieces, before a party of the noble hunters, withCarvalho at their head, could come up. What was their surprise onfinding their sovereign in at the death, when it was supposed that hehad followed another quarry in a different direction. All, of course,were loud in praise of his skill and address; none more so than the Dukeof Aveiro, who soon rode up as if he had never harboured a thought oftreachery.
At last Joseph recollected Malagrida, and calling the Minister to him,he recounted all that he had said. Carvalho, inwardly cursing hismaster's supineness, in not having at once informed him of thecircumstance, advised him to summon all the party to aid in apprehendinghim. Leaving, therefore, all thoughts of further sport for wild beasts,they eagerly joined in what was, after all, far more exciting, andsuited to their natures--the hunting down a fellow-creature, though nonewere told who was the person. They searched everywhere; not a bush inthe neighbourhood was left unbeaten; but Malagrida had escaped, and, atlast, in despair, they were obliged to desist, when fatigue warned theKing that it was time to return home, and Carvalho immediately set offon his return to the city.
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Note. This is the same worthy noble Mr Beckford so frequentlymentions, and with whom he was residing while at Lisbon.
Volume 3, Chapter IV.
We have just discovered that we have written five chapters of ourhistory without once mentioning the name of one who played soconspicuous a part in the commencement: we mean our most particularfriend, Don Luis d'Almeida; and, lest any of our readers should begin tosuspect that we have laid him on the shelf altogether, and should, inconsequence, throw down our book as of no further interest, we willagain return to the narration of his fortunes.
He was seated by the bedside of his father, the old Count d'Almeida, inthe country-house we have before described, near Coimbra. His eyes weredirected towards the invalid, with a glance of filial affection and deepsorrow; for on his countenance too clearly had the stern hand of deathset his seal to claim his victim. A great change had come over Luis;disappointment, grief, and illness, had done their cruel work on him; hewas no longer the sanguine and gay youth who laughed at misfortunes asthings which might strike, but could not injure him; he was now thegrave and thoughtful man: he had learned the great lesson--that sorrowsmust visit all but the few, and those few not to be the most envied,perhaps; but he had also learned to face disappointment with fortitudeand resignation. The many months which he had spent in retirement, bythe side of his dying parent, he had devoted, when not in actualattendance on him, to severe study. He had discarded all frivolous orlight reading, drawing his ideas alone from the pure springs ofknowledge and of truth, among the authors of antiquity; and truly did hefind his mind strengthened by the invigorating draughts he had imbibed.For several weeks his father had not risen from his sick couch, and bothwere aware that they must soon part, though the son imagined not howsoon.
The old Count had been sorely afflicted at the thoughts of leaving theson in whom all his affections centred, his pride and boast, soill-provided with a worldly inheritance. He left him his honoured name,and his title; but beyond that, except the small Quinta on which heresided, all the residue of his fortune had been lost by the earthquake.The merchant who managed his affairs, and held possession of all hismonied property, had failed, owing to that dreadful event, when severalhouses, from which he drew a considerable portion of his revenue, werealso entirely destroyed; so that Luis would, with the greatest economy,be but barely able to support the character even of a private gentleman.For this he cared but little. Of what use now to him was wealth andrank, since she for whom alone he valued either was lost to him forever? His ambition lay buried in that living tomb which now enclosedhis Clara--now doubly lost; for, had he not been supposed to be thedestroyer of her brother, and should he ever find means to clear himselffrom that imputation, yet would her father never consent to give her toone destitute of fortune. He had long banished from his mind allthoughts of happiness through the tender sympathies of our nature. Awife's sweet smile, issuing from her heart of hearts, he should neverknow; the name of father, uttered by the lips of his first-born, heshould never hear: cold and solitary must be his course--yet both lovingand beloved--but apart from his soul's idol--he knew her love wouldendure, and that consciousness would prevent his from ever changing.Since his return from Lisbon, h
e had once only quitted his father'shouse: it was to pay a short visit to Oporto, in the faint hopes ofgaining an interview with Donna Clara. He saw her, as we shallhereafter describe; but, alas! little was gained to either, except aconfirmation of their mutual constancy.
The old Count had been sleeping. As his eyes languidly opened, they metthe earnest gaze of his son. "Luis," he said, in a feeble voice, "Imust deceive you no longer. I know that I have not many hours to live.Before the sun again rises, I shall be taken from you; but yet, my boy,I die contented; for, though small is the share you will possess of thisworld's wealth, I leave you rich in all the endowments which conduce totrue happiness. I dreamed, too, just now, that all your wishes werefulfilled--that she on whom you have set your heart was restored to you,and that wealth from an unexpected source flowed in upon you. Such, Iknow, are vain thoughts for one