The marquis started involuntarily at this speech, and
his features underwent a sudden change, but he endeavoured to recover
himself, and to conceal his confusion. He hesitated for a few moments,
uncertain how to act--to desist from violence was to confess himself
conscious of the threatened secret; yet he dreaded to inflame the
resentment of the Abate, whose menaces his own heart too surely
seconded. At length--'All that you have uttered,' said he, 'I despise
as the dastardly subterfuge of monkish cunning. Your new insults add
to the desire of recovering my daughter, that of punishing you. I
would proceed to instant violence, but that would now be an imperfect
revenge. I shall, therefore, withdraw my forces, and appeal to a
higher power. Thus shall you be compelled at once to restore my
daughter and retract your scandalous impeachment of my honor.' Saying
this, the turned his horse from the gates, and his people following
him, quickly withdrew, leaving the Abate exulting in conquest, and
Julia lost in astonishment and doubtful joy. When she recounted to
madame the particulars of the conference, she dwelt with emphasis on
the threats of the Abate; but madame, though her amazement was
heightened at every word, very well understood how the secret,
whatever it was, had been obtained. The confessor of Vincent she had
already observed in the monastery, and there was no doubt that he had
disclosed whatever could be collected from the dying words of Vincent.
She knew, also, that the secret would never be published, unless as a
punishment for immediate violence, it being one of the first
principles of monastic duty, to observe a religious secrecy upon all
matters entrusted to them in confession.
When the first tumult of Julia's emotions subsided, the joy which the
sudden departure of the marquis occasioned yielded to apprehension. He
had threatened to appeal to a higher power, who would compel the
Abate to surrender her. This menace excited a just terror, and there
remained no means of avoiding the tyranny of the marquis but by
quitting the monastery. She therefore requested an audience of the
Abate; and having represented the danger of her present situation,
she intreated his permission to depart in quest of a safer retreat.
The Abate, who well knew the marquis was wholly in his power, smiled
at the repetition of his menaces, and denied her request, under
pretence of his having now become responsible for her to the church.
He bade her be comforted, and promised her his protection; but his
assurances were given in so distant and haughty a manner, that Julia
left him with fears rather increased than subdued. In crossing the
hall, she observed a man hastily enter it, from an opposite door. He
was not in the habit of the order, but was muffled up in a cloak, and
seemed to wish concealment. As she passed he raised his head, and
Julia discovered--her father! He darted at her a look of vengeance;
but before she had time even to think, as if suddenly recollecting
himself, he covered his face, and rushed by her. Her trembling frame
could scarcely support her to the apartment of madame, where she sunk
speechless upon a chair, and the terror of her look alone spoke the
agony of her mind.