Chapter 7

As they were now reclining upon a sofa, he threw his arm round her; but she suddenly sprung up, and burst from him: the tear started to her eye, and she gazed upon him with an earnest but yet tender look: 'Is it?' says she--'No sure, it is not the voice of HAMET!' 'O! yes,' said ALMORAN, 'what other voice should call thee to cancel at once the wrongs of HAMET and ALMEIDA; to secure the treasures of thy love from the hand of the robber; to hide, the joys, which if now we lose we may lose for ever, in the sacred and inviolable stores of the past, and place them beyond the power not of ALMORAN only but of fate?' With this wild effusion of desire, he caught her again to his breast, and finding no resistance his heart exulted in his success; but the next moment, to the total disappointment of his hopes, he perceived that she had fainted in his arms. When she recovered, she once more disengaged herself from him, and turning away her face, she burst into tears. When her voice could be heard, she covered herself with her veil, and turning again towards him, 'All but this,' said she, 'I had learnt to bear; and how has this been deserved by ALMEIDA of HAMET? You was my only solace in distress; and when the tears have stolen from my eyes in silence and in solitude, I thought on thee; I thought upon the chaste ardour of thy sacred friendship, which was softened, refined, and exalted into love. This was my hoarded treasure; and the thoughts of possessing this; soothed all my anguish with a miser's happiness, who, blest in the consciousness of hidden wealth, despises cold and hunger, and rejoices in the midst of all the miseries that make poverty dreadful: this was my last retreat; but I am now desolate and forlorn, and my soul looks round, with terror, for that refuge which it can never find.' 'Find that refuge,' said ALMORAN, 'in me.' 'Alas!' said ALMEIDA, 'can he afford me refuge from my sorrows, who, for the guilty pleasures of a transient moment, would forever sully the purity of my mind, and aggravate misfortune by the consciousness of guilt?'

As ALMORAN now perceived, that it was impossible, by any importunity, to induce her to violate her principles; he had nothing more to attempt, but to subvert them. 'When,' said he, 'shall ALMEIDA awake, and these dreams of folly and superstition vanish? That only is virtue, by which happiness is produced; and whatever produces happiness, is therefore virtue; and the forms, and words and rites, which priests have pretended to be required by Heaven, are the fraudful arts only by which they govern mankind.'

ALMEIDA, by this impious insult, was roused from grief to indignation: 'As thou hast now dared,' said she, 'to deride the laws, which thou wouldst first have broken; so hast thou broken for ever the tender bonds, by which my soul was united to thine. Such as I fondly believed thee, thou art not; and what thou art, I have never loved. I have loved a delusive phantom only, which, while I strove to grasp it, has vanished from me.' ALMORAN attempted to reply; but on such a subject, neither her virtue nor her wisdom would permit debate. 'That prodigy,' said she, 'which I thought was the sleight of cunning, or the work of sorcery, I now revere as the voice of Heaven; which, as it knew thy heart, has in mercy saved me from thy arms. To the will of Heaven shall my will be obedient; and my voice also shall pronounce, to ALMORAN ALMEIDA.'

ALMORAN, whose whole soul was now suspended in attention, conceived new hopes of success; and foresaw the certain accomplishment of his purpose, though by an effect directly contrary to that which he had laboured to produce. Thus to have incurred the hatred of ALMEIDA in the form of HAMET, was more fortunate than to have taken advantage of her love; the path that led to his wishes was now clear and open; and his marriage with ALMEIDA in his own person, waited only till he could resume it. He, therefore, instead of soothing, provoked her resentment: 'If thou hast loved a phantom,' said he, 'which existed only in imagination; on such a phantom my love also has been fixed: thou hast, indeed, only the form of what I called ALMEIDA; my love thou hast rejected, because thou hast never loved; the object of thy passion was not HAMET, but a throne; and thou hast made the observance of rituals, in which folly only can suppose there is good or ill, a pretence to violate thy faith, that thou mayst still gratify thy ambition.'

To this injurious reproach, ALMEIDA made no reply; and ALMORAN immediately quitted her apartment, that he might reassume his own figure, take advantage of the disposition which, under the appearance of HAMET, he had produced in favour of himself: But Osmyn, who supposing him to be HAMET, had intercepted and detained him as he was going to ALMEIDA, now intercepted him a second time at his return, having placed himself near the door of the apartment for that purpose.

Osmyn was by no means satisfied with the issue of their last interview: he had perceived a perturbation in the mind of ALMORAN, for which, imagining him to be HAMET, he could not account; and which seemed more extraordinary upon a review, than when it happened; he, therefore, again entered into conversation with him, in which he farther disclosed his sentiments and designs. ALMORAN, notwithstanding the impatience natural to his temper and situation, was thus long detained listening to Osmyn, by the united influence of his curiosity and his fears; his enquiries still alarmed him with new terrors, by discovering new objects of distrust, and new instances of disaffection: still, however, he resolved, not yet to remove Osmyn from his post, that he might give no alarm by any appearance of suspicion, and consequently learn with more ease; and detect with more certainty, any project that might be formed against him.

CHAP. XVI.

ALMEIDA, as soon as she was left alone, began to review the scene that had just past; and was every moment affected with new wonder, grief, and resentment. She now deplored her own misfortune; and now conceived a design to punish the author of it, from whose face she supposed the hand of adversity had torn the mask under which he had deceived her: it appeared to her very easy, to take a severe revenge upon HAMET for the indignity which she supposed he had offered her, by complaining of it to ALMORAN; and telling him, that he had gained admittance to her by bribing the eunuch who kept the door. The thought of thus giving him up, was one moment rejected, as arising from a vindictive spirit; and the next indulged, as an act of justice to ALMORAN, and a punishment due to the hypocrisy of HAMET: to the first she inclined, when her grief, which was still mingled with a tender remembrance of the man she loved, was predominant; and to the last, when her grief gave way to indignation.

Thus are we inclined to consider the same action, either as a virtue, or a vice, by the influence of different passions, which prompt us either to perform or to avoid it. ALMEIDA, from deliberating whether she should accuse HAMET to ALMORAN, or conceal his fault, was led to consider what punishment he would either incur or escape in consequence of her determination; and the images that rushed into her mind, the moment this became the object of her thoughts, at once determined her to be silent: 'Could I bear to see,' said she, 'that hand, which has so often trembled with delight when it enfolded mine, convulsed and black! those eyes, that as often as they gazed upon me were dissolved in tears of tenderness and love, start from the sockets! and those lips that breathed the softest sighs of elegant desire, distorted and gasping in the convulsions of death!'

From this image, her mind recoiled in an agony of terror and pity; her heart sunk within her; her limbs trembled she sunk down upon the sofa, and burst into tears.

By this time, HAMET, on whose form the likeness of ALMORAN was still impressed, had reached the palace. He went instantly towards the apartment of the women. Instead of that chearful alacrity, that mixture of zeal and reverence and affection, which his eye had been used to find where-ever it was turned, he now observed confusion, anxiety and terror; whoever he met, made haste to prostrate themselves before him, and feared to look up till he was past. He went on, however, with a hasty pace; and coming up to the eunuch's guard, he said with an impatient tone; 'To ALMEIDA.' The slave immediately made way before him, and conducted him to the door of the apartment, which he would not otherwise have been able to find, and for which he could not directly enquire.

When he entered, his countenance expressed all the passions that his situation had roused in his mind. He first looked sternly round him, to see whether ALMORAN was not present; and then fetching a deep sigh he turned his eyes, with a look of mournful tenderness, upon ALMEIDA. His first view was to discover, whether ALMORAN had already supplanted him; and for this purpose he collected the whole strength of his mind: he considered that he appeared now, not as HAMET, but as ALMORAN; and that he was to question ALMEIDA concerning ALMORAN, while she had mistaken him for HAMET; he was therefore to maintain the character, at whatever expence, till his doubts were resolved, and his fears either removed or confirmed: he was so firmly persuaded, that ALMORAN had been there before him, that he did not ask the question, but supposed the fact; he restrained alike both his tenderness and his fears; and looking earnestly upon ALMEIDA, who had risen up in his presence with blushes and confusion, 'To me,' says he, 'is ALMEIDA still cold? and has she lavished all her love upon HAMET?'

At the name of HAMET, the blushes and confusion of ALMEIDA increased: her mind was still full of the images, which had risen from the thought of what HAMET might suffer, if ALMORAN should know that he had been with her; and though she feared that their interview was discovered, yet she hoped it might be only suspected, and in that case the removal or confirmation of the suspicions, on which the fate of HAMET depended, would devolve upon her.

In this situation, she, who a few moments before doubted, whether she should not voluntarily give him up, when nothing more was necessary for his safety than to be silent; now determined, with whatever reluctance, to secure him, though it could not he done without dissimulation, and though it was probable that in this dissimulation she would be detected. Instead, therefore, of answering the question, she repeated it: 'On whom said my lord, on HAMET?' HAMET, whose suspicions were increased by the evasion, replied with great emotion, 'Aye, on HAMET; did he not this moment leave you?' 'Leave me this moment?' said ALMEIDA, with yet greater confusion, and deeper blushes. HAMET, in the impatience of his jealousy, concluded, that the passions which he saw expressed in her countenance, and which arose from the struggle between her regard to truth and her tenderness for HAMET, proceeded from the consciousness of what he had most reason to dread, and she to conceal, a breach of virtue, to which she had been betrayed by his own appearance united with the vices of his brother: he, therefore, drew back from her with a look of inexpressible anguish, and stood some time silent. She observed, that in his countenance there was more expression of trouble, than rage; she, therefore, hoped to divert him from persuing his enquiries, by at once removing his jealousy; which she supposed would be at an end, as soon as she should disclose the resolution she had taken in his favour. Addressing him, therefore, as ALMORAN, with a voice which though it was gentle and soothing, was yet mournful and tremulous; 'Do not turn from me,' said she, with those unfriendly and frowning looks; give me now that love which so lately you offered, and with all the future I will atone the past.'

Upon HAMET, whose heart involuntarily answered to the voice of ALMEIDA, these words had irresistible and instantaneous force; but recollecting, in a moment, whose form he bore, and to whom they were addressed, they struck him with new astonishment, and increased the torments of his mind. Supposing what he at first feared had happened, and that ALMORAN had seduced her as HAMET; he could not account for her now addressing him, as ALMORAN, with words of favour and compliance: he, therefore, renewed his enquiries concerning himself, with apprehensions of a different kind. She, who was still solicitous to put an end to the enquiry, as well for the sake of HAMET, as to prevent her own embarrassment, replied with a sigh, 'Let not thy peace be interrupted by one thought of HAMET; for of HAMET ALMEIDA shall think no more.' HAMET, who, though he had fortified himself against whatever might have happened to her person, could not bear the alienation of her mind, cried our, with looks of distraction and a voice scarcely human, 'Not think of HAMET!' ALMEIDA, whose astonishment was every moment increasing, replied, with a tender and interesting enquiry, 'Is ALMORAN then offended, that ALMEIDA mould think of HAMET no more?' HAMET, being thus addressed by the name of his brother, again recollected his situation; and now first conceived the idea, that the alteration of ALMEIDA'S sentiments with respect to himself, might be the effect of some violence offered her by ALMORAN in his likeness; he, therefore, recurred to his first purpose, and determined, by a direct enquiry, to discover whether she had seen him under that appearance. This enquiry he urged with the utmost solemnity and ardour, in terms suitable to his present appearance and situation: 'Tell me,' said he, 'have these doors been open to HAMET? Has he obtained possession of that treasure, which, by the voice of Heaven, has been allotted to me?'

To this double question, ALMEIDA answered by a single negative; and her answer, therefore, was both false and true: it was true that her person was still inviolate, and it was true also that HAMET had not been admitted to her; yet her denial of it was false, for she believed the contrary; ALMORAN only had been admitted, but she had received him as his brother. HAMET, however, was satisfied with the answer, and did not discover its fallacy. He looked up to Heaven, with an expression of gratitude and joy; and then turning to ALMEIDA, 'Swear then,' said he, 'that thou hast granted to HAMET, no pledge of thy love which should be reserved for me.' ALMEIDA, who now thought nothing more than the asseveration necessary to quiet his mind, immediately complied: 'I swear,' said she, 'that to HAMET I have given nothing, which thou wouldst wish me to with-hold: the power that has devoted my person to thee, has disunited my heart from HAMET, whom I renounce in thy presence for ever.'

HAMET, whose fortitude and recollection were again overborne, was thrown into an agitation of mind, which discovered itself by looks and gestures very different from those which ALMEIDA had expected, and overwhelmed her with new confusion and disappointment: that he, who had so lately solicited her love with all the vehemence of a desire impatient to be gratified, should now receive a declaration that she was ready to comply with marks of distress and anger, was a mystery which she could not solve. In the mean time, the struggle in his breast became every moment more violent: 'Where then,' said he, 'is the constancy which you vowed to HAMET; and for what instance of his love is he now forsaken?'

ALMEIDA was now more embarrassed than before; she felt all the force of the reproof, supposing it to have been given by ALMORAN; and she could be justified only by relating the particular, which at the expence of her sincerity she had determined to conceal. ALMORAN was now exalted in her opinion, while his form was animated by the spirit of HAMET; as much as HAMET had been degraded, while his form was animated by the spirit of ALMORAN. In his resentment of her perfidy to his rival, though it favoured his fondest and most ardent wishes, there was an abhorrence of vice, and a generosity of mind, which she supposed to have been incompatible with his character. To his reproach, she could reply only by complaint; and could no otherwise evade his question, than by observing the inconsistency of his own behaviour: 'Your words,' said she, 'are daggers to my heart. You condemn me for a compliance with your own wishes; and for obedience to that voice, which you supposed to have revealed the will of Heaven. Has the caprice of desire already wandered to a new object? and do you now seek a pretence to refuse, when it is freely offered, what so lately you would have taken by force?'

HAMET, who was now fired with resentment against ALMEIDA, whom yet he could not behold without desire; and who, at the same moment, was impatient to revenge his wrongs upon ALMORAN; was suddenly prompted to satisfy all his passions, by taking advantage of the wiles of ALMORAN, and the perfidy of ALMEIDA, to defeat the one and to punish the other. It was now in his power instantly to consummate his marriage, as a priest might be procured without a moment's delay, and as ALMEIDA'S consent was already given; he would then obtain the possession of her person, by the very act in which she perfidiously resigned it to his rival; to whom he would then leave the beauties he had already possessed, and cast from him in disdain, as united with a mind that he could never love. As his imagination was fired with the first conception of this design, he caught her to his breast with a fury, in which all the passions in all their rage were at once concentered: 'Let the priest,' said he, 'instantly unite us. Let us comprize, in one moment, in this instant, NOW, our whole of being, and exclude alike the future and the past!' Then grasping her still in his arms, he looked up to heaven: 'Ye powers,' said he, 'invisible but yet present, who mould my changing and unresisting form; prolong, but for one hour, that mysterious charm, that is now upon me, and I will be ever after subservient to your will!'

ALMEIDA, who was terrified at the furious ardor of this unintelligible address, shrunk from his embrace, pale and trembling, without power to reply. HAMET gazed tenderly upon her; and recollecting the purity and tenderness with which he had loved her, his virtues suddenly recovered their force; he dismissed her from his embrace; and turning from her, he dropped in silence the tear that started to his eye, and expressed, in a low and faultering voice, the thoughts that rushed upon his mind: 'No,' said he; HAMET shall still disdain the joy, which is at once sordid and transient: in the breast of HAMET, lust shall not be the pander of revenge. Shall I, who have languished for the pure delight which can arise only from the interchange of soul with soul, and is endeared by mutual confidence and complacency; shall I snatch under this disguise, which belies my features and degrades my virtue, a casual possession of faithless beauty, which I despise and hate? Let this be the portion of those, that hate me without a cause; but let this be far from me!' At this thought, he felt a sudden elation of mind; and the conscious dignity of virtue, that in such a conflict was victorious, rendered him, in this glorious moment, superior to misfortune: his gesture became calm, and his countenance sedate; he considered the wrongs he suffered, not as a sufferer, but as a judge; and he determined at once to discover himself to ALMEIDA, and to reproach her with her crime. He remarked her confusion without pity, as the effect not of grief but of guilt; and fixing his eyes upon her, with the calm severity of a superior and offended being, 'Such,' said he, 'is the benevolence of the Almighty to the children of the dust, that our misfortunes are, like poisons, antidotes to each other.'

ALMEIDA, whose faculties were now suspended by wonder and expectation, looked earnestly at him, but continued silent. 'Thy looks,' said HAMET, are full of wonder; but as yet thy wonder has no cause, in comparison of that which shall be revealed. Thou knowest the prodigy, which so lately parted HAMET and ALMEIDA: I am that HAMET, thou art that ALMEIDA.' ALMEIDA would now have interrupted him; but HAMET raised his voice, and demanded to be heard: 'At that moment,' said he, 'wretched as I am, the child of error and disobedience, my heart repined in secret at the destiny which had been written upon my head; for I then thought thee faithful and constant: but if our hands had been then united, I should have been more wretched than I am; for I now know that thou art fickle and false. To know thee, though it has pierced my soul with sorrow, has yet healed the wound which was inflicted when I lost thee: and though I am now compelled to wear the form of ALMORAN, whose vices are this moment disgracing mine, yet in the balance I shall be weighed as HAMET, and I shall suffer only as I am found wanting.'

ALMEIDA, whose mind was now in a tumult that bordered upon distraction, bewildered in a labyrinth of doubt and wonder, and alike dreading the consequence of what she heard, whether it was false or true, was yet impatient to confute or confirm it; and as soon as she had recovered her speech, urged him for some token of the prodigy he asserted, which he might easily have given, by relating any of the incidents which themselves only could know. But just at this moment, ALMORAN, having at last disengaged himself from Osmyn, by whom he had been long detained, resumed his own figure: and while the eyes of ALMEIDA were fixed upon HAMET, his powers were suddenly taken from him, and restored in an instant; and she beheld the features of ALMORAN vanish, and gazed with astonishment upon his own: 'Thy features change!' said she, 'and thou indeed art HAMET.' 'The sudden trance,' said he, 'has restored me to myself; and from my wrongs where shalt thou be hidden?' This reproach was more than she could sustain, but he caught her as she was falling, and supported her in his arms. This incident renewed in a moment all the tenderness of his love: while he beheld her distress, and pressed her by the embrace that sustained her to his bosom, he forgot every injury which he supposed she had done him; and perceived her recover with a pleasure, that for a moment suspended the sense of his misfortunes.