But sympathy and congeniality of sentiment, however necessary to that love which calms every fierce emotion, fills the soul with a melting tenderness, and, without disturbing it, continually possesses the soul, was by no means consonant to the ferocious emotions, the unconquerable and ardent passion which revelled through Matilda’s every vein. When enjoying the society of him she loved, calm delight, unruffled serenity, possessed not her soul. No--but, inattentive to every object but him, even her proximity to him agitated her with almost uncontrollable emotion. Whilst watching his look, her pulse beat with unwonted violence, her breast palpitated, and, unconscious of it herself, an ardent and voluptuous fire darted from her eyes. Her passion too, controlled as it was in the presence of Verezzi, agitated her soul with progressively increasing fervour. Nursed by solitude, and wound up, perhaps, beyond any pitch which another’s soul might be capable of, it sometimes almost maddened her. Still, surprised at her own forbearance, yet strongly perceiving the necessity of it, she spoke not again of her passion to Verezzi. CHAPTER XI. At last the day arrived when Matilda expected Ferdinand’s return. Punctual to his time, Ferdinand returned, and told Matilda that Zastrozzi had, for the present, taken up his abode at a cottage not far from thence, and that he there awaited her arrival. Matilda was much surprised that Zastrozzi preferred a cottage to her castella; but, dismissing that from her mind, hastily prepared to attend him. She soon arrived at the cottage. Zastrozzi met her--he quickened his pace towards her. “Well, Zastrozzi,” exclaimed Matilda, inquiringly. “Oh!” said Zastrozzi, “our schemes have all, as yet, been unsuccessful. Julia yet lives, and, surrounded by wealth and power, yet defies our vengeance. I was planning her destruction, when, obedient to your commands, I came here.” “Alas!” exclaimed Matilda, “I fear it must be ever thus: but, Zastrozzi, much I need your advice--your assistance. Long have I languished in hopeless love: often have I expected, and as often have my eager expectations been blighted by disappointment.” A deep sigh of impatience burst from Matilda’s bosom, as, unable to utter more, she ceased. “’Tis but the image of that accursed Julia,” replied Zastrozzi, “revelling in his breast, which prevents him from becoming instantly yours. Could you but efface that!”