_Mich._ The same! and-- (_looking round anxiously, and lowering his voice_) and I am no favourite with him. _Ben._ No? that’s very much to your credit. _Mich._ (_acquiring confidence_) Nor am I partial to him. _Ben._ Nor I neither, heaven knows! there’s my hand upon it. Father, you’re a very sensible honest man. _Mich._ You appear to be well acquainted with the prior’s character: but for heaven’s sake do not betray me! _Ben._ I betray you? to be sure one ought not to wish one’s neighbour ill. But if the fire, which lately consumed a wing of your convent, had consumed in it-- you understand me, I wont say no more: but if a certain event had taken place, I dont believe I should have broken my heart for grief, father. _Mich._ The prior was absent at the time of the conflagration; he ran no danger; but that accident may be the source of other dangers to him, of which at present he little dreams. _Ben._ Indeed! as how, pray, as how? as how? dear, I shall be mighty glad to hear how. _Mich._ I dare not explain myself except to your lord. But tell me, good old man, is not the viceroy greatly interested in the fate of young Venoni? _Ben._ Extremely. _Mich._ Is he aware, that tomorrow Venoni will pronounce his vows? _Ben._ Bless my heart! so soon! _Mich._ The victim of despair, looking on the world with horror and disgust, considering as the only good left for him on earth, the permission to inhabit an asylum contiguous to that which contains the ashes of his beloved. (_mysteriously_) For you are aware, that our monastery is only separated from the Ursuline convent by a party-wall. _Ben._ Indeed? the Ursuline convent? it was there, that Josepha breathed her last-- if I remember rightly, it is under father Cœlestino’s direction? _Mich._ (_expressively_) Under his direction? you are right! yes! it is under his direction; and who says that, says every thing. _Ben._ Well, father; and so Venoni-- ? _Mich._ (_with energy_) Assists the superior’s views, and languishes till the hour arrives when he must sacrifice his liberty for ever: when, renouncing the world and himself, he will become subject to the insolent caprice, to the arbitrary commands, to the tyrannical hatred of a man frequently unjust, never to be appeased; and who is himself the prey of all those worldly passions, which he secretly and dearly cherishes in his own heart, but whose slightest indulgence he punishes without mercy upon others. _Ben._ Well, father, this at least I must say for you, you seem to be perfectly well acquainted with the moral characters of your fellows. Dear, dear! and so then it is tomorrow, that this poor gentleman, so amiable-- with talents so brilliant, with a heart so generous and so good--