St. Helena’s festival arrived. All those, whom Elizabeth had invited, failed not to attend at the appointed place and hour; among them were the Heiresses of Torrenburg, Count Henry of Montfort, Count Oswald of March (Elizabeth’s brother) Richard of Ulmenhorst, the Bishop of Coira, and myself. It is the pious and laudable custom of our days (a custom, which I hope will be preserved even to the latest posterity) that all our most distinguished festivities should commence by offering an homage of adoration to the Supreme: it was therefore natural, that immediately on our arrival we should be conducted to the church belonging to the Convent of Zurich. Yet we could not help feeling some surprize, that Elizabeth as our hostess did not welcome us at the church-door, and place herself at the head of our procession, while it moved through the cloisters towards the chapel; that being the established custom on such occasions. However, we had scarcely time to make any reflections, before we found ourselves within the chapel. It was most gorgeously adorned, as if set out for some great solemnity. The walls were decorated with wreaths of flowers; the reliques were exposed, the pictures were uncovered: the whole wealth of the Convent was displayed, and blazed on every side; innumerable tapers in chandeliers of gold, intermingled with silver lamps, dispelled the gloom of the long aisles; and clouds of incense rolled along the fretted roof, which echoed back the melodious sounds of lutes and voices, as they swelled in full chorus from the adjoining choir. At that moment our knowledge of church-customs naturally made the Bishop and myself conceive a suspicion of the purpose, for which we had been conducted thither: perhaps too, the same thought suggested itself to Constantia, for on a sudden her tears began to flow. The situation of Richard of Ulmenhorst was most distressing: he ceased not to enquire, why Elizabeth did not appear; and it was with difficulty, that Montfort, Ida, and Count Oswald (who preserved their presence of mind better than the rest) could persuade him to observe that silence, which was necessary in so holy a place. Unhappy Richard! for many weeks past had his friends conspired to buoy him up with hopes, which this single moment was destined to destroy for ever: for now the curtain, which concealed from us the chapel’s sanctuary, was withdrawn, and all our worst fears were confirmed. Elizabeth, adorned with all the pomp and splendour of wealth, and still more with all the charms, which nature had bestowed upon her superior to her whole sex, knelt before the altar, and offered up at the footstool of the Almighty’s throne the greatest sacrifice, which a mortal can ever make; the sacrifice of youth, love, beauty, liberty, and life!