The
pleasures which He had just tasted for the first time were still
impressed upon his mind. His brain was bewildered, and presented
a confused Chaos of remorse, voluptuousness, inquietude, and
fear. He looked back with regret to that peace of soul, that
security of virtue, which till then had been his portion. He had
indulged in excesses whose very idea but four and twenty hours
before He had recoiled at with horror. He shuddered at
reflecting that a trifling indiscretion on his part, or on
Matilda's, would overturn that fabric of reputation which it had
cost him thirty years to erect, and render him the abhorrence of
that People of whom He was then the Idol. Conscience painted to
him in glaring colours his perjury and weakness; Apprehension
magnified to him the horrors of punishment, and He already
fancied himself in the prisons of the Inquisition. To these
tormenting ideas succeeded Matilda's beauty, and those delicious
lessons which, once learnt, can never be forgotten. A single
glance thrown upon these reconciled him with himself. He
considered the pleasures of the former night to have been
purchased at an easy price by the sacrifice of innocence and
honour. Their very remembrance filled his soul with ecstacy; He
cursed his foolish vanity, which had induced him to waste in
obscurity the bloom of life, ignorant of the blessings of Love
and Woman. He determined at all events to continue his commerce
with Matilda, and called every argument to his aid which might
confirm his resolution.
Pages:
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274