casting upon the abbot a frantic look, "Hear me," she continued, "man of
a hard heart! Insolent in your yet unshaken virtue, your day of trial
will arrive. Think then upon your cruelty; and despair of pardon!"


_II.--The Abbot's Infatuation_


Leaving the church, Ambrosio bent his steps towards a grotto in the
abbey garden, formed in imitation of a hermitage. On reaching the
grotto, he found it already occupied. Extended upon one of the seats,
lay a man in a melancholy posture, lost in meditation. Ambrosio
recognised him; it was Rosario, his favourite novice, a youth of whose
origin none knew anything, save that his bearing, and such of his
features as accident had discovered--for he seemed fearful of being
recognised, and was continually muffled up in his cowl--proved him to be
of noble birth.

"You must not indulge this disposition to melancholy, Rosario," said
Ambrosio tenderly.

The youth flung himself at Ambrosio's feet.

"Oh, pity me!" he cried. "How willingly would I unveil to you my heart!
But I fear------"

"How shall I reassure you? Reveal to me what afflicts you, and I swear
that your secret shall be safe in my keeping."

"Father," said Rosario, in faltering accents, "I am a woman!"