Left to indulge reflection in solitude, her mind recurred to the object nearest her heart--to Verezzi. Her bosom was scorched by an ardent and unquenchable fire; and while she thought of him, she even shuddered at the intenseness of her own sensations. “He shall love me--he shall be mine--mine for ever,” mentally ejaculated Matilda. The streets of Passau echoed to La Contessa di Laurentini’s equipage, before, roused from her reverie, she found herself at the place of her destination; and she was seated in her hotel in that city, before she had well arranged her unsettled ideas. She summoned Ferdinand, a trusty servant, to whom she confided everything. “Ferdinand,” said she, “you have many claims on my gratitude. I have never had cause to reproach you with infidelity in executing my purposes--add another debt to that which I already owe you; find Il Conte Verezzi within three days, and you are my best friend.” Ferdinand bowed, and prepared to execute her commands. Two days passed, during which Matilda failed not to make every personal inquiry, even in the suburbs of Passau. Alternately depressed by fear, and revived by hope, for three days was Matilda’s mind in a state of disturbance and fluctuation. The evening of the third day, of the day on which Ferdinand was to return, arrived. Matilda’s mind, wound up to the extreme of impatience, was the scene of conflicting passions. She paced the room rapidly. A servant entered, and announced supper. “Is Ferdinand returned?” hastily inquired Matilda. The domestic answered in the negative. She sighed deeply, and struck her forehead. Footsteps were heard in the ante-chamber without. “There is Ferdinand!” exclaimed Matilda, exultingly, as he entered. “Well, well! have you found Verezzi? Ah! speak quickly! Ease me of this horrible suspense.” “Signora!” said Ferdinand, “it grieves me much to be obliged to declare that all my endeavours have been inefficient to find Il Conte Verezzi----” “Oh, madness! madness!” exclaimed Matilda, “is it for this that I have plunged into the dark abyss of crime?--is it for this that I have despised the delicacy of my sex, and, braving consequences, have offered my love to one who despises me--who shuns me, as does the barbarous Verezzi? But if he is in Passau--if he is in the environs of the city, I will find him.” Thus saying, despising the remonstrances of her domestics, casting off all sense of decorum, she rushed into the streets of Passau. A gloomy silence reigned through the streets of the city; it was past midnight, and every inhabitant seemed to be sunk in sleep--sleep which Matilda was almost a stranger to. Her white robes floated on the night air--her shadowy and dishevelled hair flew over her form, which, as she passed the bridge, seemed to strike the boatmen below with the idea of some supernatural and ethereal form.