She shuddered as she reflected: but smothering the sensations of alarm which she had suffered herself to be surprised by, she asked him what had led him to the forest. “The same which led you here, Matilda,” returned Zastrozzi: “the same influence which actuates us both, has doubtless inspired that congeniality which, in this frightful storm, led us to the same spot.” “Oh!” exclaimed Matilda, “how shall I touch the obdurate Verezzi’s soul? He still despises me--he declares himself to be devoted to the memory of his Julia; and that although she be dead, he is not the less devotedly hers. What can be done?” Matilda paused; and, much agitated, awaited Zastrozzi’s reply. Zastrozzi, meanwhile, stood collected in himself, and firm as the rocky mountain which lifts its summit to heaven. “Matilda,” said he, “to-morrow evening will pave the way for that happiness which your soul has so long panted for; if, indeed, the event which will then occur does not completely conquer Verezzi. But the violence of the tempest increases--let us seek shelter.” “Oh! heed not the tempest,” said Matilda, whose expectations were raised to the extreme of impatience by Zastrozzi’s dark hints; “heed not the tempest, but proceed, if you wish not to see me expiring at your feet.” “You fear not the tumultuous elements--nor do I,” replied Zastrozzi. “I assert again, that if to-morrow evening you lead Verezzi to this spot--if, in the event which will here occur, you display that presence of mind which I believe you to possess, Verezzi is yours.” “Ah! what do you say, Zastrozzi, that Verezzi will be mine?” inquired Matilda, as the anticipation of inconceivable happiness dilated her soul with sudden and excessive delight. “I say again, Matilda,” returned Zastrozzi, “that if you dare to brave the dagger’s point--if you but make Verezzi owe his life to you----” Zastrozzi paused, and Matilda acknowledged her insight of his plan, which her enraptured fancy represented as the basis of her happiness. “Could he, after she had, at the risk of her own life, saved his, unfeelingly reject her? Would those noble sentiments, which the greatest misfortunes were unable to extinguish, suffer that? No.” Full of these ideas, her brain confused by the ecstatic anticipation of happiness which pressed upon it, Matilda retraced her footsteps towards the castella. The violence of the storm which so lately had raged was passed--the thunder, in low and indistinct echoes, now sounded through the chain of rocky mountains, which stretched far to the north--the azure, and almost cloudless ether, was studded with countless stars, as Matilda entered the castella, and, as the hour was late, sought her own apartment. Sleep fled not, as usual, from her pillow; but, overcome by excessive drowsiness, she soon sank to rest.