Hippolitus, who had languished under a long and dangerous illness
occasioned by his wounds, but heightened and prolonged by the distress
of his mind, was detained in a small town in the coast of Calabria,
and was yet ignorant of the death of Cornelia. He scarcely doubted
that Julia was now devoted to the duke, and this thought was at times
poison to his heart. After his arrival in Calabria, immediately on the
recovery of his senses, he dispatched a servant back to the castle of
Mazzini, to gain secret intelligence of what had passed after his
departure.
The eagerness with which we endeavour to escape from
misery, taught him to encourage a remote and romantic hope that Julia
yet lived for him. Yet even this hope at length languished into
despair, as the time elapsed which should have brought his servant
from Sicily. Days and weeks passed away in the utmost anxiety to
Hippolitus, for still his emissary did not appear; and at last,
concluding that he had been either seized by robbers, or discovered
and detained by the marquis, the Count sent off a second emissary to
the castle of Mazzini. By him he learned the news of Julia's flight,
and his heart dilated with joy; but it was suddenly checked when he
heard the marquis had discovered her retreat in the abbey of St
Augustin. The wounds which still detained him in confinement, now
became intolerable. Julia might yet be lost to him for ever. But even
his present state of fear and uncertainty was bliss compared with the
anguish of despair, which his mind had long endured.
As soon as he was sufficiently recovered, he quitted Italy for Sicily,
in the design of visiting the monastery of St Augustin, where it was
possible Julia might yet remain. That he might pass with the secrecy
necessary to his plan, and escape the attacks of the marquis, he left
his servants in Calabria, and embarked alone.
It was morning when he landed at a small port of Sicily, and proceeded
towards the abbey of St Augustin. As he travelled, his imagination
revolved the scenes of his early love, the distress of Julia, and the
sufferings of Ferdinand, and his heart melted at the retrospect. He
considered the probabilities of Julia having found protection from her
father in the pity of the Padre Abate; and even ventured to indulge
himself in a flattering, fond anticipation of the moment when Julia
should again be restored to his sight.
He arrived at the monastery, and his grief may easily be imagined,
when he was informed of the death of his beloved sister, and of the
flight of Julia. He quitted St Augustin's immediately, without even
knowing that Madame de Menon was there, and set out for a town at some
leagues distance, where he designed to pass the night.