The Greatest Gothic Classics of All Time. Эдгар Аллан По

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СКАЧАТЬ and knowing the message he had received, was very curious to hear the result of his visit. She fortunately happened to be alone; he therefore related the whole story, read the papers, and spoke in raptures of Matilda's person, and engaging manners. Nothing could equal the astonishment of the Lady Marcellini. She anticipated the joy of her friends, yet was at a loss how to inform her of an event so entirely unexpected. They knew it must recall to her mind the horrid circumstances of her husband's murder, which neither time nor reason had ever reconciled her to support with any fortitude. 'Yet,' said the Count, 'to recover such a child; to have a hold, a connexion in life so desirable and so unlooked for, must surely greatly overbalance the affliction of a painful remembrance, at least weakened, though not subdued.'

      They went to the apartment of the Countess. She was at her toilet. Her woman, being dismissed, 'Well Count,' asked she, 'have you seen the lady from Tunis, -is she a Turkish woman?' 'No, madam, she was brought up in Germany; she is a charming young creature, and you may be proud of the compliment,' added he, smiling, 'when I assure you she very strongly resembles your ladyship.' 'You are very polite, my good friend,' answered she, in the same tone, 'but I am neither young nor handsome, and you say this lady is both; but, pray, is she acquainted with any of our friends?' 'Yes, but by name only; she has no personal knowledge of any one in Naples; she was very particular in her enquiries after you.' 'Of me!' said the Countess, surprised; 'how could she know any thing of me?' You remember the Chevalier N -, who went abroad so many years since?' 'Ah!' said she, with a sigh, I do indeed remember him; is he alive, -does this lady belong to him?' 'He is not living,' answered the Count, for Matilda permitted him to suppose he was dead, without asserting it; 'this young lady was in some degree related to him, but I think more nearly so to your ladyship.' 'Heavens! my dear Count, you surprise me! I know not of any female relation I can possibly have.' 'She is certainly a near relation, however,' replied the Count, 'and you must prepare yourself for a most agreeable surprise, as I am convinced you will love her dearly.' 'Indeed, my good Count,' exclaimed the Countess, 'you have given me violent emotions; my heart palpitates, and my whole frame trembles; for God s sake, do not keep me in suspense -who can this lady be?' 'Before we answer you, my dear friend,' said the Count's Lady, 'let me persuade you to take a few drops, in water, the agreeable flutter of your spirits will require them.' 'All this preparation terrifies me; I will take any thing, but pray be explicit at once.' 'Then, my dear lady, bear the joyful recital, I am about to give you with resolution.'

      He took up the story, at a French vessel, captured by the Corsair, and a gentleman on board, attempting to destroy himself and a lady, described the subsequent events, and then began the narrative. When in his address to Matilda, he said, 'The Count Berniti was your father,' the Countess started from her chair, 'Gracious God! what do I hear; but no, -I can have no interest in it.' She was silent. He proceeded, whilst she hung her head, drowned in tears at the mention of her husband whose death he slightly passed over, 'till he came to the circumstance of the children. She gave a shriek, and throwing her arms around her friend, 'If this is true, great God! if this is true, I may yet have a child. O! say,' cried she looking wildly at him, 'tell me at once, have I child?' 'You have,' said the Count, approaching her, 'you have a daughter, my dear Countess, whom heaven has preserved to bless the remainder of your days.' ' 'Tis too much, too much, said she, putting her hand to her bosom and instantly fainted in the arms of her friend. Having drops and water at hand, she was soon recovered; and after a few sighs, that removed the oppression from her heart, she said, 'Tell me, if it is the illusion of my senses only, or if indeed I have a child?' 'No, my dear lady, you are not deceived -we have told you truth.' 'Then, where is she?' cried the Countess, eagerly, 'let me see her -I die with impatience!' 'Recover your spirits,' answered the Count; 'collect your fortitude, and I will immediately fetch her to your arms. O, hasten! hasten!' cried she, dissolving in tears, which they were glad to see. And the Count, with joy, flew to the hotel, where poor Matilda waited in all the agonies of suspense. 'The discovery is made, my dear young lady; your mother is impatient to receive and bless you.'

      This intelligence, though so anxiously wished for, gave her inexpressible agitations; she got up and sat down, two or three times, without speaking, or being able to move; and at length, with trembling knees, was conveyed to the carriage, the Captain, at the request of the Count, accompanying them. When arrived at the house, and conducted to a room, she had a glass of wine to raise her spirits, whilst the Count announced her arrival. In a few minutes he returned, and took her hand. The Captain wished not to be present at the first interview. With a tremor through her whole frame she gave her hand; the door opened; she saw a lady, at the top of the room, who appeared to be in tears. Matilda saw no more, she sprung from the Count, threw herself on her knees before her, and without uttering one word, sunk into insensibility. The friends hastened to her relief. The Countess sat stupid, gazing wildly on her, without moving. When Matilda's senses were a little restored she looked up, she exclaimed, 'My mother! O, have I a mother' That word recalled the Countess to sense and feeling; she clasped her in her arms, 'Blessed! blessed sound!' she cried, 'my child, my dearest daughter ! heaven be thanked.' She dropped on her knees and lifted her hands and eyes to heaven, then again embraced her child, whose soft and tender emotions were too powerful to admit of speech, nor is it possible to describe the tumultuous joy of both for many minutes. The unhappy widow, the childless parent, dead to every hope of comfort, to embrace a child, adorned with every grace, to feel those delightful sensations to which her breast had been a stranger, and which mothers only can conceive, -a blessing so great, so unexpected, no language can describe. What then must be the feelings of Matilda, after suffering such a variety of sorrows, to find herself in the arms of a parent? O, sweet and undefinable emotions! when reciprocal between a mother and a child! who can speak the rapture of each tender bosom, when parental and filial love unites!

      After the first transports were a little abated, the Captain was introduced. The Countess welcomed him as the preserver of her child. He was struck with the perfect resemblance between the mother and daughter, and extremely gratified by the affectionate attention of every one present.

      In the evening Matilda promised to relate the particulars of her whole story, and the following day to write to her friends.

      The Count now pursued his voyage to Nice, still doubtful of Matilda's safety, and the sincerity of Mr Weimar's repentance.

      The wind was not favourable to his impatience, and the passage was a tedious one; at last, however, he was landed at Nice, and, after many enquiries, learnt there was a Turkish vessel on the point of sailing. He flew to the ship; the Captain was on board; without reserve the Count acquainted him with his errand, and search after Matilda. 'Indeed, Sir,' said the Captain, 'I pity you; tis peculiarly unfortunate, that they have quitted Nice three days, on their way to Vienna.'

      The poor Count was struck dumb with vexation and disappointment; the Captain, however, related to him the whole story, as he recollected, in Matilda's narrative, he was mentioned as a particular friend. 'When,' added he, 'the Countess was acquainted with the extent of her daughters obligations to the ladies in Germany, she instantly proposed going to Vienna, which being correspondent to Matilda's wishes, their friends consented to accompany them, and the happy party set off three days ago. Me,' said the Captain, 'they have rewarded with unbounded generosity much beyond my wishes or deserts; I shall now return, to live in the bosom of my family, and give up the sea for ever.'

      The Count applauded his resolution; and taking a ring from his finger, of value, 'Wear this, my dear Sir, as a testimony of my esteem for the friend of Matilda, and remember, that in the Count de Bouville you will ever find one, upon any future occasion.'

      The Captain could not refuse so polite a compliment, though he was already amply gratified for the services he had done.

      Thus we see a just and generous action scarcely ever fails of being properly recompensed.

      The Count had now nothing to do but follow his mistress. He remembered Mrs Courtney telling him he was going on a Quixote expedition. What would she say now, thought he, how exult at my disappointed knight errantry? Then, when he thought of the discovery of Matilda's birth, 'Ah!' said he, 'should I no longer be СКАЧАТЬ