 his mistress in tranquillity, and, perceiving his frailty
unsuspected, abandoned himself to his passions in full security. Shame and
remorse no longer tormented him. Frequent repetitions made him familiar with
sin, and his bosom became proof against the stings of conscience. In these
sentiments he was encouraged by Matilda; but she soon was aware that she had
satiated her lover by the unbounded freedom of her caresses. Her charms becoming
accustomed to him, they ceased to excite the same desires which at first they
had inspired. The delirium of passion being past, he had leisure to observe
every trifling defect; where none were to be found, satiety made him fancy them.
The monk was glutted with the fullness of pleasure. A week had scarcely elapsed,
before he was wearied of his paramour: his warm constitution still made him seek
in her arms the gratification of his lust. But when the moment of passion was
over, he quitted her with disgust, and his humour, naturally inconstant, made
him sigh impatiently for variety.
    Possession, which cloys man, only increases the affection of women. Matilda
with every succeeding day grew more attached to the friar. Since he had obtained
her favours, he was become dearer to her than ever, and she felt grateful to him
for the pleasures in which they had equally been sharers. Unfortunately as her
passion grew ardent, Ambrosio's grew cold; the very marks of her fondness
excited his disgust, and its excess served to extinguish the flame which already
burned but feebly in his bosom. Matilda could not but remark that her society
seemed to him daily less agreeable; he was inattentive while she spoke; her
musical talents, which she possessed in perfection, had lost the power of
amusing him; or if he deigned to praise them, his compliments were evidently
forced and cold. He no longer gazed upon her with affection, or applauded her
sentiments with a lover's partiality. This Matilda well perceived, and redoubled
her efforts to revive those sentiments which he once had felt. She could not but
fail, since he considered as importunities, the pains which she took to please
him, and was disgusted by the very means which she used to recall the wanderer.
Still, however, their illicit commerce continued; but it was clear that he was
led to her arms, not by love, but the cravings of brutal appetite. His
constitution made a woman necessary to him, and Matilda was the only one with
whom he could indulge his passions safely. In spite of her beauty, he gazed upon
every other female with more desire; but fearing that his
