'Go then, Barbarian! But this resource is still left me.'

As She said this, She suddenly drew a poignard: She rent open
her garment, and placed the weapon's point against her bosom.

'Father, I will never quit these Walls alive!'

'Hold! Hold, Matilda! What would you do?'

'You are determined, so am I: The Moment that you leave me, I
plunge this Steel in my heart.'

'Holy St. Francis! Matilda, have you your senses? Do you know
the consequences of your action? That Suicide is the greatest of
crimes? That you destroy your Soul? That you lose your claim to
salvation? That you prepare for yourself everlasting torments?'

'I care not! I care not!' She replied passionately; 'Either your
hand guides me to Paradise, or my own dooms me to perdition!
Speak to me, Ambrosio! Tell me that you will conceal my story,
that I shall remain your Friend and your Companion, or this
poignard drinks my blood!'

As She uttered these last words, She lifted her arm, and made a
motion as if to stab herself. The Friar's eyes followed with
dread the course of the dagger. She had torn open her habit, and
her bosom was half exposed. The weapon's point rested upon her
left breast: And Oh! that was such a breast! The Moonbeams
darting full upon it enabled the Monk to observe its dazzling
whiteness. His eye dwelt with insatiable avidity upon the