_Venoni._ Whom, whom? _Mi._ The father Cœlestino. _Venoni._ (_in the greatest horror_) He? the prior? powers of mercy!-- (_then with decision_) away! it cannot be. _Mi._ You doubt me? be convinced then. Some months are past since a tremendous fire broke out in this convent at midnight. The prior was absent; his apartment was in flames; I burst the door, and rescued such articles as appeared to be of most importance; a crucifix of value; his casket; his papers-- _Venoni._ Go on, go on! _Mi._ Among these papers one letter was half open: unintentionally the first words caught my eye, and their import compelled me to read the rest. It was from the abbess of the Ursulines, whose chapel is only separated from ours by a party-wall. It informed me, that a communication exists between the two convents, unknown to all but the prior and his confidants; that the most scandalous abuses-- _Venoni._ (_frantic with impatience_) Josepha, Josepha-- oh! speak to me of Josepha! _Mi._ Other letters leave no doubt, that the prior’s motive for secluding her in the Ursuline convent was a licentious passion for your bride. In that convent every art was employed to corrupt her heart, but every art was employed in vain. She endeavoured to escape; she was watched and closely confined. Your return was expected daily-- Josepha threatened her tyrants with disclosure of this atrocious secret-- the prior and his accomplice stood on the brink of an abyss, and, to prevent it, she was precipitated into an untimely grave. _Venoni._ (_leaning against a tree_) My brain turns around. _Mi._ Nay, sink not beneath the blow; think upon Josepha’s murder, and hasten to avenge it-- think upon the dreadful fate which awaits yourself. I come hither to rescue you, and-- _Venoni._ Stay, stay! my brain-- my ideas-- oh, God! oh, God! can there be men so cruel-- can there be hearts so hard! he, he who supported my aching head on his bosom-- who wept with me-- who pitied me-- rage! distraction!-- but no! (_shuddering_) this crime is too horrible, nature revolts at it, this crime is impossible! _Mi._ Impossible? then read this. (_taking out a letter_) I have seen the prior show you notes from the abbess, in which she affected to pity your situation, and lament the loss of Josepha-- you recollect her writing? _Venoni._ Recollect it? oh heaven, too well!-- let me look on the letter! (_father Michael opens the lantern and throws a light upon the paper, at the same time shading it with his habit to prevent its being observed at the convent_) Yes, this is her hand; I should know it among a thousand others. _Mi._ Read! read, and be convinced.