unless he
engages to collect my mouldering bones, and deposit them in the family vault of
his Andalusian castle. Then let thirty masses be said for the repose of my
spirit, and I trouble this world no more. Now let me depart. Those flames are
scorching!«
    He let the hand drop slowly which held the crucifix, and which till then he
had pointed towards her. The apparition bowed her head, and her form melted into
air. The exorciser led me out of the circle. He replaced the bible, &c. in
the chest, and then addressed himself to me, who stood near him speechless from
astonishment.
    »Don Raymond, you have heard the conditions on which repose is promised you.
Be it your business to fulfil them to the letter. For me, nothing more remains
than to clear up the darkness still spread over the spectre's history, and
inform you, that when living Beatrice bore the name of las Cisternas. She was
the great aunt of your grandfather. In quality of your relation, her ashes
demand respect from you, though the enormity of her crimes must excite your
abhorrence. The nature of those crimes no one is more capable of explaining to
you than myself. I was personally acquainted with the holy man who proscribed
her nocturnal riots in the castle of Lindenberg, and I hold this narrative from
his own lips.
    Beatrice de las Cisternas took the veil at an early age, not by her own
choice, but at the express command of her parents. She was then too young to
regret the pleasures of which her profession deprived her: but no sooner did her
warm and voluptuous character begin to be developed, than she abandoned herself
freely to the impulse of her passions, and seized the first opportunity to
procure their gratification. This opportunity was at length presented, after
many obstacles which only added new force to her desires. She contrived to elope
from the convent, and fled to Germany with the baron Lindenberg. She lived at
his castle several months as his avowed concubine. All Bavaria was scandalized
by her impudent and abandoned conduct. Her feasts vied in luxury with
Cleopatra's, and Lindenberg became the theatre of the most unbridled debauchery.
Not satisfied with displaying the incontinence of a prostitute, she professed
herself an atheist: she took every opportunity to scoff at her monastic vows,
and loaded with ridicule the most sacred ceremonies of religion.
    Possessed of a character so depraved, she did not long confine her
affections to one object. Soon after her arrival at the castle, the baron's
younger brother attracted her notice by his