work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
6506,"",Reading,2013-06-04 20:35:13 UTC,"The latter part of the speech was delivered in a low voice, as if the stranger feared to be overheard. Vivaldi remained silent, while he examined, with closer attention, the countenance of his visitor. It was of the utmost importance to him, that his family should be made acquainted with his situation; yet he knew not exactly how to interpret, or to confide in this offer. Vivaldi had heard that informers sometimes visited the prisoners, and, under the affectation of kindness and sympathy, drew from them a confession of opinions, which were afterwards urged against them; and obtained discoveries relative to their connections and friends, who were, by these insidious means, frequently involved in their destruction. Vivaldi, conscious of his own innocence, had, on his first examination, acquainted the inquisitor with the names and residence of his family; he had, therefore, nothing new to apprehend from revealing them to this stranger; but he perceived that if it should be known he had attempted to convey a message, however concise and harmless, the discovery would irritate the jealous inquisitors against him, and might be urged as a new presumption of his guilt. These considerations, together with the distrust which the inconsistency of his visitor's assertions, and the occasional embarrassment of his manner, had excited, determined Vivaldi to resist the temptation now offered to him; and the stranger, having received his thanks, reluctantly withdrew, observing, however, that should any unforeseen circumstance detain him in the Inquisition longer than he had reason to expect, he should beg leave to pay him another visit. In reply to this, Vivaldi only bowed, but he remarked that the stranger's countenance altered, and that some dark brooding appeared to cloud his mind, as he quitted the chamber.
(III.v, pp. 356-7)",,20360,"","""In reply to this, Vivaldi only bowed, but he remarked that the stranger's countenance altered, and that some dark brooding appeared to cloud his mind, as he quitted the chamber.""","",2013-06-04 20:35:13 UTC,"Vol. III, Chap. v"
6506,"",Reading,2013-06-04 20:36:47 UTC,"Some particulars, also, of the stranger's conduct did not agree with what might have been expected from Schedoni, even though the Confessor had really been Vivaldi's enemy; a circumstance which the latter was no longer permitted to doubt. Nor did those particular circumstances accord, as he was inclined to believe, with the manner of a being of this world; and, when Vivaldi considered the suddenness and mystery with which the stranger had always appeared and retired, he felt disposed to adopt again one of his earliest conjectures, which undoubtedly the horrors of his present abode disposed his imagination to admit, as those of his former situation in the vaults of Paluzzi, together with a youthful glow of curiosity concerning the marvellous, had before contributed to impress them upon his mind.
(III.v, p. 367)",,20361,"","""Nor did those particular circumstances accord, as he was inclined to believe, with the manner of a being of this world; and, when Vivaldi considered the suddenness and mystery with which the stranger had always appeared and retired, he felt disposed to adopt again one of his earliest conjectures, which undoubtedly the horrors of his present abode disposed his imagination to admit, as those of his former situation in the vaults of Paluzzi, together with a youthful glow of curiosity concerning the marvellous, had before contributed to impress them upon his mind.""",Impressions,2013-06-04 20:36:47 UTC,"Vol. III, Chap. v"
6506,"",Reading,2013-06-04 20:37:58 UTC,"Satisfied with this conclusion, he again laid his head on his pillow of straw, and soon sunk into a slumber. The subject of his waking thoughts still haunted his imagination, and the stranger, whose voice he had this night recognized as that of the prophet of Paluzzi, appeared before him. Vivaldi, on perceiving the figure of this unknown, felt, perhaps, nearly the same degrees of awe, curiosity, and impatience, that he would have suffered, had he beheld the substance of this shadow. The monk, whose face was still shrouded, he thought advanced, till, having come within a few paces of Vivaldi, he paused, and, lifting the awful cowl that had hitherto concealed him, disclosed - not the countenance of Schedoni, but one which Vivaldi did not recollect ever having seen before! It was not less interesting to curiosity than striking to the feelings. Vivaldi at the first glance shrunk back; - something of that strange and indescribable air, which we attach to the idea of a supernatural being, prevailed over the features; and the intense and fiery eyes resembled those of an evil spirit rather than of a human character. He drew a poniard from beneath a fold of his garment, and, as he displayed it, pointed with a stern frown to the spots which discoloured the blade; Vivaldi perceived they were of blood! He turned away his eyes in horror, and, when he again looked round in his dream, the figure was gone.
(III.v, pp. 367-8)",,20362,"","""The subject of his waking thoughts still haunted his imagination, and the stranger, whose voice he had this night recognized as that of the prophet of Paluzzi, appeared before him.""","",2013-06-04 20:37:58 UTC,"Vol. III, Chap. v"
6506,"",Reading,2013-06-04 20:39:20 UTC,"A groan awakened him, but what were his feelings, when, on looking up, he perceived the same figure standing before him! It was not, however, immediately that he could convince himself the appearance was more than the phantom of his dream, strongly impressed upon an alarmed fancy. The voice of the monk, for his face was as usual concealed, recalled Vivaldi from his error; but his emotion cannot easily be conceived, when the stranger, slowly lifting that mysterious cowl, discovered to him the same awful countenance, which had characterised the vision in his slumber. Unable to inquire the occasion of this appearance, Vivaldi gazed in astonishment and terror, and did not immediately observe, that, instead of a dagger, the monk held a lamp, which gleamed over every deep furrow of his features, yet left their shadowy markings to hint the passions and the history of an extraordinary life.
(III.v, p. 368)",,20363,"","""It was not, however, immediately that he could convince himself the appearance was more than the phantom of his dream, strongly impressed upon an alarmed fancy.""",Impressions,2013-06-04 20:39:20 UTC,"Vol. III, Chap. v"
6506,"",Reading,2013-06-04 20:40:31 UTC,"'""I have been through life,"" said the penitent, ""the slave of my passions, and they have led me into horrible excesses. I had once a brother."" - He stopped, and deep groans again told the agony of his soul; at length, he added - ""That brother had a wife! - Now listen, father, and say, whether guilt like mine may hope for absolution! She was beautiful - I loved her; she was virtuous, and I despaired. You, father,"" he continued in a frightful tone, ""never knew the fury of despair! It overcame or communicated its own force to every other passion of my soul, and I sought to release myself from its tortures by any means. My brother died!"" - The penitent paused again,' continued Ansaldo, 'I trembled while I listened; my lips were sealed. At length, I bade him proceed, and he spoke as follows. - ""My brother died at a distance from home."" - Again the penitent paused, and the silence continued so long, that I thought it proper to inquire of what disorder the brother had expired. ""Father, I was his murderer!"" said the penitent in a voice which I never can forget; it sunk into my heart.'
(III.vii, p. 393)",,20364,"","""'I have been through life,' said the penitent, 'the slave of my passions, and they have led me into horrible excesses.""",Fetters,2013-06-04 20:40:31 UTC,"Vol. III, Chap. vii"
6506,"",Reading,2013-06-04 20:42:08 UTC,"I was silent,' said Ansaldo; 'but at length I bade the penitent go on. ""I contrived,"" said he, ""that my brother should die at a distance from home, and I so conducted the affair, that his widow never suspected the cause of his death. It was not till long after the usual time of mourning had expired, that I ventured to solicit her hand: but she had not yet forgotten my brother, and she rejected me. My passion would no longer be trifled with. I caused her to be carried from her house, and she was afterwards willing to retrieve her honour by the marriage vow. I had sacrificed my conscience, without having found happiness;--she did not even condescend to conceal her disdain. Mortified, exasperated by her conduct, I begun to suspect that some other emotion than resentment occasioned this disdain; and last of all jealousy--jealousy came to crown my misery--to light up all my passions into madness!""
(III.vii, pp. 393-4)",,20365,"","""Mortified, exasperated by her conduct, I begun to suspect that some other emotion than resentment occasioned this disdain; and last of all jealousy--jealousy came to crown my misery--to light up all my passions into madness!""","",2013-06-04 20:42:08 UTC,"Vol. III, Chap. vii"
6506,"",Reading,2013-06-04 20:43:15 UTC,"It appeared, that about the year 1742, the late Count di Bruno had passed over into Greece, a journey which his brother, the present Confessor, having long expected, had meditated to take advantage of. Though a lawless passion had first suggested to the dark mind of Schedoni the atrocious act, which should destroy a brother, many circumstances and considerations had conspired to urge him towards its accomplishment. Among these was the condct of the late Count towards himself, which, however reasonable, as it had contradicted his own selfish gratifications, and added strong reproof to opposition, had excited his most inveterate hatred. Schedoni, who, as a younger brother of his family, bore, at that time, the title of Count di Marinella, had dissipated his small patrimony at a very early age; but, though suffering might then have taught him prudence, it had only encouraged him in duplicity, and rendered him more eager to seek a temporary refuge in the same habits of extravagance which had led to it. The Count di Bruno, though his fortune was very limited, had afforded frequent supplies to his brother; till, finding that he was incorrigible, and that the sums which he himself spared with difficulty from his family were lavished, without remorse, by Marinella, instead of being applied with economy to his support, he refused further aid than was sufficient for his absolute necessities.
(III.viii, p. 416)",,20366,"","""Though a lawless passion had first suggested to the dark mind of Schedoni the atrocious act, which should destroy a brother, many circumstances and considerations had conspired to urge him towards its accomplishment.""","",2013-06-04 20:43:15 UTC,"Vol. III, Chap. viii"
6506,"",Reading,2013-06-04 20:44:30 UTC,"The emotion betrayed by Schedoni, on the appearance of the last witness, and during the delivery of the evidence, disappeared when his fate became certain, and when the dreadful sentence of the law was pronounced, it made no visible impression on his mind. From that moment, his firmness, or his hardihood, never forsook him.
(III.viii, p. 421)",,20367,"","""The emotion betrayed by Schedoni, on the appearance of the last witness, and during the delivery of the evidence, disappeared when his fate became certain, and when the dreadful sentence of the law was pronounced, it made no visible impression on his mind.""",Impressions,2013-06-04 20:44:30 UTC,"Vol. III, Chap. viii"
6506,"",Reading,2013-06-04 20:45:31 UTC,"Whether he had done so in his first assertion was a question, which had raised in Vivaldi's mind a tempest of conjecture and of horror; for, while the subject of it was too astonishing to be fully believed, it was also too dreadful, not to be apprehended even as a possibility.
(III.viii, p. 424)",,20368,"","""Whether he had done so in his first assertion was a question, which had raised in Vivaldi's mind a tempest of conjecture and of horror; for, while the subject of it was too astonishing to be fully believed, it was also too dreadful, not to be apprehended even as a possibility.""","",2013-06-04 20:45:31 UTC,"Vol. III, Chap. viii"
6506,"",Reading,2013-06-04 20:46:49 UTC,"Yet, while she uttered this self-reproach, the tears she shed contradicted the pride which had suggested it; and a conviction lurking in her heart that Vivaldi could not so resign her, soon dissipated those tears. But other conjectures recalled them; it was possible that he was ill - that he was dead. In such vague and gloomy surmise her days passed away; employment could no longer withdraw her from herself, nor music, even for a moment, charm away the sense of sorrow. Yet she regularly partook of the various occupations of the nuns; and was so far from permitting herself to indulge in any useless expression of anxiety, that she had never once disclosed the sacred subject of it; so that, though she could not assume an air of cheerfulness, she never appeared otherwise than tranquil. Her most soothing, though perhaps most melancholy hour, was when about sun-set she could withdraw unnoticed, to the terrace among the rocks that overlooked the convent, and formed a part of its domain. There, alone and relieved from all the ceremonial restraints of the society, her very thoughts seemed more at liberty. As, from beneath the light foliage of the accacias, or the more majestic shade of the plane-trees that waved their branches over the many-coloured cliffs of this terrace, Ellena looked down upon the magnificent scenery of the bay; it brought back to memory, in sad yet pleasing detail, the many happy days she had passed on those blue waters, or on the shores, in the society of Vivaldi and her departed relative Bianchi; and every point of the prospect marked by such remembrance, which the veiling distance stole, was rescued by affection and pictured by imagination, in tints more animated than those of brightest nature.
(III.ix, pp. 425-6)",,20369,"","""As, from beneath the light foliage of the accacias, or the more majestic shade of the plane-trees that waved their branches over the many-coloured cliffs of this terrace, Ellena looked down upon the magnificent scenery of the bay; it brought back to memory, in sad yet pleasing detail, the many happy days she had passed on those blue waters, or on the shores, in the society of Vivaldi and her departed relative Bianchi; and every point of the prospect marked by such remembrance, which the veiling distance stole, was rescued by affection and pictured by imagination, in tints more animated than those of brightest nature.""","",2013-06-04 20:46:49 UTC,"Vol. III, Chap. ix"