BLTC Press Titles


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Vanity Fair

William Thackery


The Secret Doctrine, Volume I Cosmogenesis

H. P. Blavatsky


The Characters of Theophrastus

Theophrastus


The Fairy Tale of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Thomas Carlyle, Rudolf Steiner


Montalbert Volume III

by Charlotte Smith

Excerpt:

MONTALBERT.

CHAPTER XXV.

T' appears as if the fears, which had distressed Rosalie, had in some degree subsided when she thus proceeded with her narrative, or rather journal:—

" April nth, 1783.

*' It is now above a fortnight since I have been here. Every day has appeared more melancholy than that which preceded it; for every day and every hour diminishes my hope that Montalbert is

Vol. III. a engaged engaged in seeking me Alas ! could

his vigilant love be deceived, or would not Signora Belcastro betray herself, had she been questioned?—Ah! fool that I am! 1 recollect that he could not question her; that he certainly could never know from her that Rosalie exists—Alozzi too is interested in deceiving him—perhaps we

shall never meet again Montalbert.'

perhaps I am doomed to pass here, in this dreadsul solitude, a long and wretched life. It is now four days since 1 prevailed on Cattina to let me wander over the deserted grounds that were once a garden; she sinds I make no attempt to abuse this indulgence, and she does not now interdict the woods that surround the enclosure, or even the sea shore, though it is there only that I am likely to meet any of the few human beings who inhabit this depopulated region. I have been down to the sands, and on the wave-worn remains of a marble column, once, perhaps, the ornament of the port; I have been sitting to look at the sea. A very few

days

days since I should not have ventured hither, for then my imagination was filled with the fears that Cattina had so recently taught me, of Corsairs and Turks. By habit, and from having assured myself, by subsequent conversations, that Cattina had exaggerated and misdated her accounts, I had appeased those apprehensions, or learned to think of them with more steadiness : nor, indeed, could my walks increase, whatever real danger there might be, since, during the day time, any vessel would be discerned from the coast long before it could land its crew. I saw today a group of peasant girls picking up the small fish along the sand; they were gay and sportive, and seemed to have no fear of such visits as Cattina has described to me as frequently happening. I wished to have spoken to them; but, perhaps, I ought to consider it as a part of my convention with Cattina, not to enter into conversation with any of the persons I may chance to meet.—Alas! these poor B 2 Calabrese

Calabrese could be of no iise to me: they seemed to have no ideas beyond the: little circle of their 6wn necessities"'Of pleasures J for though they must have known me to be a stranger, I excited no' curiosity. Theirhappy indifference brought to my mind days when I was as thoughtless and as light-hearted as' these simple peasants! That reflection was followed by the recollection of the circumstances that have: happened to me within these last two years,' and the chain of events, which, from ones of the happiest, had reduced me to one of the most miserable of women. My waking dream lasted till the sun was set; the' waves, as well as the whole horizon, as-' fumed that rosy hue which mocks alike the pencil and the pen ; I had heard that the exhalations from the marshes were unwholesome after a warm day, and I returned to my melancholy residence lest my child should suffer. Now, Montalbert, that he is fleeping by me, I relate on paper the fad employment of my solitary

day-—' day—alai! how many more may pass irt the fame manner—what a prospect is mine! ' ' ,

'" ft is night.—I go to my window and look at the stars, which, in this clear atmosphere, are singularly brilliant. I seek the north star, because, Montalbert, I believe that you are in England—an idea that sometimes torments-and sometimes' sooths rrie';'yet I' encourage it even when I am most'pained by it, for you have returned thither, perhaps, if not to seek your Rosalie, to weep with her mother for her supposed <ieath; ... .That dear mother!— ah! Jiowma'fty tears have I already cost her—how many will she shed over my imaginary grave ; while I, buried yet livkig, call on her name—on yours, Montalb&rt;'Mf vain! '» ' " <-< ' ;" i.J


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