That repugnance she had not art enough to conceal long: Don Gaston was informed of it. Alarmed, Lorenzo, lest your affection for her should oppose itself to his projects, and lest you should positively object to your sister’s misery, he resolved to keep the whole affair from your knowledge as well as the duke’s, till the sacrifice should be consummated. The season of her taking the veil was fixed for the time when you should be upon your travels: in the meanwhile no hint was dropped of Donna Inesilla’s fatal vow. Your sister was never permitted to know your direction. All your letters were read before she received them, and those parts effaced, which were likely to nourish her inclination for the world: her answers were dictated either by her aunt, or by dame Cunegonda, her governess. These particulars I learnt partly from Agnes, partly from the Baroness herself.
I immediately determined upon rescuing this lovely girl from a fate so contrary to her inclinations, and ill-suited to her merit. I endeavoured to ingratiate myself into her favour: I boasted of my friendship and intimacy with you. She listened to me with avidity; she seemed to devour my words while I spoke in your praise, and her eyes thanked me for my affection to her brother. My constant and unremitted attention at length gained me her heart, and with difficulty I obliged her to confess that she loved me. When however, I proposed her quitting the castle of Lindenberg, she rejected the idea in positive terms.
“Be generous, Alphonso,” she said; “You possess my heart, but use not the gift ignobly. Employ not your ascendancy over me in persuading me to take a step, at which I should hereafter have to blush. I am young and deserted: my brother, my only friend, is separated from me, and my other relations act with me as my enemies. Take pity on my unprotected situation. Instead of seducing me to an action which would cover me with shame, strive rather to gain the affections of those who govern me. The Baron esteems you. My aunt, to others ever harsh proud and contemptuous, remembers that you rescued her from the hands of murderers, and wears with you alone the appearance of kindness and benignity. Try then your influence over my guardians. If they consent to our union my hand is yours: from your account of my brother, I cannot doubt your obtaining his approbation: and when they find the impossibility of executing their design, I trust that my parents will excuse my disobedience, and expiate by some other sacrifice my mother’s fatal vow.”
From the first moment that I beheld Agnes, I had endeavoured to conciliate the favour of her relations. Authorised by the confession of her regard, I redoubled my exertions. My principal battery was directed against the Baroness; it was easy to discover that her word was law in the castle: her husband paid her the most absolute submission, and considered her as a superior being. She was about forty: in her youth she had been a beauty; but her charms had been upon that large scale which can but ill sustain the shock of years: however she still possessed some remains of them. Her understanding was strong and excellent when not obscured by prejudice, which unluckily was but seldom the case. Her passions were violent: she spared no pains to gratify them, and pursued with unremitting vengeance those who opposed themselves to her wishes. The warmest of friends, the most inveterate of enemies, such was the Baroness Lindenberg.
I laboured incessantly to please her: unluckily I succeeded but too well. She seemed gratified by my attention, and treated me with a distinction accorded by her to no one else. One of my daily occupations was reading to her for several hours: those hours I should much rather have passed with Agnes; but as I was conscious that complaisance for her aunt would advance our union, I submitted with a good grace to the penance imposed upon me. Donna Rodolpha’s library was principally composed of old Spanish romances: these were her favourite studies, and once a day one of these unmerciful volumes was put regularly into my hands. I read the wearisome adventures of Perceforest, Tirante the White, Palmerin of England, and The Knight of the Sun, till the book was on the point of falling from my hands through ennui. However, the increasing pleasure which the Baroness seemed to take in my society, encouraged me to persevere; and latterly she showed for me a partiality so marked, that Agnes advised me to seize the first opportunity of declaring our mutual passion to her aunt.
One evening, I was alone with Donna Rodolpha in her own apartment. As our readings generally treated of love, Agnes was never permitted to assist at them. I was just congratulating myself on having finished The Loves of Tristan and the Queen Iseult—
“Ah! The unfortunates!” cried the Baroness; “How say you, señor? Do you think it possible for man to feel an attachment so disinterested and sincere?”
“I cannot doubt it,” replied I; “My own heart furnishes me with the certainty. Ah! Donna Rodolpha, might I but hope for your approbation of my love! Might I but confess the name of my mistress without incurring your resentment!”
She interrupted me.
“Suppose I were to spare you that confession? Suppose I were to acknowledge that the object of your desires
