Ambrosio, and tell me that I may stay!” This speech gave the Abbot an opportunity of recollecting himself. He was conscious that in the present disposition of his mind, avoiding her society was his only refuge from the power of this enchanting Woman. “You declaration has so much astonished me,” said He, “that I am at present incapable of answering you. Do not insist upon a reply, Matilda; Leave me to myself; I have need to be alone.” “I obey you—But before I go, promise not to insist upon my quitting the Abbey immediately.” “Matilda, reflect upon your situation; Reflect upon the consequences of your stay. Our separation is indispensable, and we must part.” “But not to-day, Father! Oh! in pity not today!” “You press me too hard, but I cannot resist that tone of supplication. Since you insist upon it, I yield to your prayer: I consent to your remaining here a sufficient time to prepare in some measure the Brethren for your departure. Stay yet two days; But on the third,” ... (He sighed involuntarily)—“Remember, that on the third we must part for ever!” She caught his hand eagerly, and pressed it to her lips. “On the third?” She exclaimed with an air of wild solemnity; “You are right, Father! You are right! On the third we must part for ever!” There was a dreadful expression in her eye as She uttered these words, which penetrated the Friar’s soul with horror: Again She kissed his hand, and then fled with rapidity from the chamber. Anxious to authorise the presence of his dangerous Guest, yet conscious that her stay was infringing the laws of his order, Ambrosio’s bosom became the Theatre of a thousand contending passions. At length his attachment to the feigned Rosario, aided by the natural warmth of his temperament, seemed likely to obtain the victory: The success was assured, when that presumption which formed the groundwork of his character came to Matilda’s assistance. The Monk reflected that to vanquish temptation was an infinitely greater merit than to avoid it: He thought that He ought rather to rejoice in the opportunity given him of proving the firmness of his virtue. St. Anthony had withstood all seductions to lust; Then why should not He? Besides, St. Anthony was tempted by the Devil, who put every art into practice to excite his passions: Whereas, Ambrosio’s danger proceeded from a mere mortal Woman, fearful and modest, whose apprehensions of his yielding were not less violent than his own. “Yes,” said He; “The Unfortunate shall stay; I have nothing to fear from her presence. Even should my own prove too weak to resist the temptation, I am secured from danger by the innocence of Matilda.” Ambrosio was yet to learn, that to an heart unacquainted with her, Vice is ever most dangerous when lurking behind the Mask of Virtue.