'How, Rosario? When we last conversed, you spoke in a different
tone. Is my friendship then become of such little consequence?
Had you never seen these Abbey walls, you never had seen me:
Can that really be your wish?'

'Had never seen you?' repeated the Novice, starting from the
Bank, and grasping the Friar's hand with a frantic air; 'You?
You? Would to God, that lightning had blasted them, before you
ever met my eyes! Would to God! that I were never to see you
more, and could forget that I had ever seen you!'

With these words He flew hastily from the Grotto. Ambrosio
remained in his former attitude, reflecting on the Youth's
unaccountable behaviour. He was inclined to suspect the
derangement of his senses: yet the general tenor of his conduct,
the connexion of his ideas, and calmness of his demeanour till
the moment of his quitting the Grotto, seemed to discountenance
this conjecture. After a few minutes Rosario returned. He again
seated himself upon the Bank: He reclined his cheek upon one
hand, and with the other wiped away the tears which trickled from
his eyes at intervals.

The Monk looked upon him with compassion, and forbore to
interrupt his meditations. Both observed for some time a
profound silence. The Nightingale had now taken her station upon
an Orange Tree fronting the Hermitage, and poured forth a strain
the most melancholy and melodious. Rosario raised his head, and
listened to her with attention.