 chance conducted me to the cathedral of the Capuchins. Oh! surely
on that day my guardian angel slumbered, neglectful of his charge! Then was it
that I first beheld you: you supplied the superior's place, absent from illness.
- You cannot but remember the lively enthusiasm which your discourse created.
Oh! how I drank your words! how your eloquence seemed to steal me from myself! I
scarcely dared to breathe, fearing to lose a syllable; and while you spoke,
me-thought a radiant glory beamed round your head, and your countenance shone
with the majesty of a god. I retired from the church, glowing with admiration.
From that moment you became the idol of my heart; the never-changing object of
my meditations. I enquired respecting you. The reports which were made me of
your mode of life, of your knowledge, piety, and self-denial, riveted the chains
imposed on me by your eloquence. I was conscious that there was no longer a void
in my heart; that I had found the man whom I had sought till then in vain. In
expectation of hearing you again, every day I visited your cathedral: you
remained secluded within the abbey walls, and I always withdrew, wretched and
disappointed. The night was more propitious to me, for then you stood before me
in my dreams; you vowed to me eternal friendship; you led me through the paths
of virtue, and assisted me to support the vexations of life. The morning
dispelled these pleasing visions: I awoke, and found myself separated from you
by barriers which appeared insurmountable. Time seemed only to increase the
strength of my passion: I grew melancholy and despondent; I fled from society,
and my health declined daily. At length, no longer able to exist in this state
of torture, I resolved to assume the disguise in which you see me. My artifice
was fortunate; I was received into the monastery, and succeeded in gaining your
esteem.
    Now, then, I should have felt completely happy, had not my quiet been
disturbed by the fear of detection. The pleasure which I received from your
society was embittered by the idea, that perhaps I should soon be deprived of
it: and my heart throbbed so rapturously at obtaining the marks of your
friendship, as to convince me that I never should survive its loss. I resolved,
therefore, not to leave the discovery of my sex to chance - to confess the whole
to you, and throw myself entirely on your mercy and indulgence. Ah! Ambrosio,
can I have been deceived?
