_Ben._ The marchioness, my lord, is still inconsolable; and in truth, she has good cause to be so. The marquis wished his daughter to be married immediately; my lady chose to defer it for a year, and my lady was obstinate. The marquis wished to take his daughter with him to Naples; my lady chose she should remain in a convent; and my lady was obstinate. Her daughter fell ill there, and died; my lady says, that she shall never recover her death, and it is but fair that my lady should be now as obstinate on this point, as she has formerly been on every other. _Vice._ Beloved unfortunate Josepha!-- and Venoni----? _Ben._ Good lack, poor gentleman! he was absent, when this sad event took place: for you must know, my lord, that when after the departure of her parents he went to visit his betrothed at the convent-grate, the sour-faced old abbess would’nt suffer him to see the lady Josepha. Nay, what is the strangest circumstance of all, she produced a letter from the marchioness commanding positively, that during her absence no person whatever should have access to her daughter. _Vice._ Most unaccountable! _Ben._ The poor signor was almost frantic with surprise and grief: away he flew for Naples; contrary winds for awhile delayed his arrival; but at length he did arrive, and hastened to plead his cause to the parents of his mistress. _Vice._ And was the marquis aware of his lady’s strange orders to the abbess? _Ben._ Oh, no! and Venoni returned to Messina, authorized to see Josepha as often and for as long as he pleased. Alas, he was destined never to see her more! the report had reached me, that a contagious disorder had broken out in the Ursuline convent. I hastened thither. I inquired for the dear lady; “she was ill!” I implored permission to see her; the marchioness’s commands excluded me. I returned the next day; “she was worse.” Another four-and-twenty hours elapsed and-- merciful heaven! she was dead! _Vice._ (_concealing his tears_) Josepha! thou wert dear to me as my own child, Josepha! (_after a moment’s silence, recovering himself_) And where is Venoni now? _Ben._ In the monastery of St. Mark, of which your sister’s confessor is now the superior. _Vice._ What! the father Cœlestino? _Ben._ Even he-- Venoni’s grief brought him to the brink of the grave. They say, that his senses were disordered for a time. But it is certain that he only exchanged the bed of sickness for a cell in St. Mark’s monastery, where he shortly means to pronounce his vows. _Vice._ What! so early in life will he quit the world? his immense wealth too----