 would he
have refused, if urged in such enchanting accents? The suppliant was so
interesting! Her voice was so sweet, so harmonious! Her very tears became her,
and her affliction seemed to add new lustre to her charms. He promised to send
to her a confessor that same evening, and begged her to leave her address. The
companion presented him with a card on which it was written, and then withdrew
with the fair petitioner, who pronounced before her departure a thousand
benedictions on the abbot's goodness. His eyes followed her out of the chapel.
It was not till she was out of sight that he examined the card, on which he read
the following words:
    »Donna Elvira Dalfa, strada di San Iago, four doors from the palace
d'Albornos.«
    The suppliant was no other than Antonia, and Leonella was her companion. The
latter had not consented without difficulty to accompany her niece to the abbey:
Ambrosio had inspired her with such awe, that she trembled at the very sight of
him. Her fears had conquered even her natural loquacity, and while in his
presence she uttered not a single syllable.
    The monk retired to his cell, whither he was pursued by Antonia's image. He
felt a thousand new emotions springing in his bosom, and he trembled to examine
into the cause which gave them birth. They were totally different from those
inspired by Matilda, when she first declared her sex and her affection. He felt
not the provocation of lust; no voluptuous desires rioted in his bosom; nor did
a burning imagination picture to him the charms which modesty had veiled from
his eyes. On the contrary, what he now felt was a mingled sentiment of
tenderness, admiration, and respect. A soft and delicious melancholy infused
itself into his soul, and he would not have exchanged it for the most lively
transports of joy. Society now disgusted him: he delighted in solitude, which
permitted his indulging the visions of fancy: his thoughts were all gentle, sad,
and soothing; and the whole wide world presented him with no other object than
Antonia.
    »Happy man!« he exclaimed in his romantic enthusiasm, »happy man, who is
destined to possess the heart of that lovely girl! what delicacy in her
features! what elegance in her form! how enchanting was the timid innocence of
her eyes! and how different from the wanton expression, the wild luxurious fire,
which sparkles in Matilda's! Oh! sweeter must one kiss be, snatched from the
rosy lips of the first, than all the full and lustful favours
