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unacquainted with his original disposition。 He pronounced the
most severe sentences upon Offenders； which； the moment after；
Compassion induced him to mitigate： He undertook the most daring
enterprizes； which the fear of their consequences soon obliged
him to abandon： His inborn genius darted a brilliant light upon
subjects the most obscure； and almost instantaneously his
Superstition replunged them in darkness more profound than that
from which they had just been rescued。 His Brother Monks；
regarding him as a Superior Being； remarked not this
contradiction in their Idol's conduct。 They were persuaded that
what He did must be right； and supposed him to have good reasons
for changing his resolutions。 The fact was； that the different
sentiments with which Education and Nature had inspired him
were combating in his bosom： It remained for his passions； which
as yet no opportunity had called into play； to decide the
victory。 Unfortunately his passions were the very worst Judges；
to whom He could possibly have applied。 His monastic seclusion
had till now been in his favour； since it gave him no room for
discovering his bad qualities。 The superiority of his talents
raised him too far above his Companions to permit his being
jealous of them： His exemplary piety； persuasive eloquence； and
pleasing manners had secured him universal Esteem； and
consequently He had no injuries to revenge： His Ambition was
justified by his acknowledged merit； and his pride considered as
no more than proper confidence。 He never saw； much less
conversed with； the other sex： He was ignorant of the pleasures
in Woman's power to bestow； and if He read in the course of his
studies
'That Men were fond； He smiled； and wondered how！'
For a time； spare diet； frequent watching； and severe penance
cooled and represt the natural warmth of his constitution： But
no sooner did opportunity present itself； no sooner did He catch
a glimpse of joys to which He was still a Stranger； than
Religion's barriers were too feeble to resist the overwhelming
torrent of his desires。 All impediments yielded before the force
of his temperament； warm； sanguine； and voluptuous in the excess。
As yet his other passions lay dormant； But they only needed to be
once awakened； to display themselves with violence as great and
irresistible。
He continued to be the admiration of Madrid。 The Enthusiasm
created by his eloquence seemed rather to increase than diminish。
Every Thursday； which was the only day when He appeared in
public； the Capuchin Cathedral was crowded with Auditors； and
his discourse was always received with the same approbation。 He
was named Confessor to all the chief families in Madrid； and no
one was counted fashionable who was injoined penance by any
other than Ambrosio。 In his resolution of never stirring out of
his Convent； He still persisted。 This circumstance created a
still greater opinion of his sanctity and self…denial。 Above
all； the Women sang forth his praises loudly； less influenced by
devotion than by his noble countenance； majestic air； and
well…turned； graceful figure。 The Abbey door was thronged with
Carriages from morning to night； and the noblest and fairest
Dames of Madrid confessed to the Abbot their secret peccadilloes。
The eyes of the luxurious Friar devoured their charms： Had his
Penitents consulted those Interpreters； He would have needed no
other means of expressing his desires。 For his misfortune； they
were so strongly persuaded of his continence； that the
possibility of his harbouring indecent thoughts never once
entered their imaginations。 The climate's heat； 'tis well known；
operates with no small influence upon the constitutions of the
Spanish Ladies： But the most abandoned would have thought it an
easier task to inspire with passion the marble Statue of St。
Francis than the cold and rigid heart of the immaculate Ambrosio。
On his part； the Friar was little acquainted with the depravity
of the world； He suspected not that but few of his Penitents
would have rejected his addresses。 Yet had He been better
instructed on this head； the danger attending such an attempt
would have sealed up his lips in silence。 He knew that it would
be difficult for a Woman to keep a secret so strange and so
important as his frailty； and He even trembled lest Matilda
should betray him。 Anxious to preserve a reputation which was
infinitely dear to him； He saw all the risque of committing it to
the power of some vain giddy Female； and as the Beauties of
Madrid affected only his senses without touching his heart； He
forgot them as soon as they were out of his sight。 The danger of
discovery； the fear of being repulsed； the loss of reputation；
all these considerations counselled him to stifle his desires：
And though He now felt for it the most perfect indifference； He
was necessitated to confine himself to Matilda's person。
One morning； the confluence of Penitents was greater than usual。
He was detained in the Confessional Chair till a late hour。 At
length the crowd was dispatched； and He prepared to quit the
Chapel； when two Females entered and drew near him with
humility。 They threw up their veils； and the youngest entreated
him to listen to her for a few moments。 The melody of her voice；
of that voice to which no Man ever listened without interest；
immediately caught Ambrosio's attention。 He stopped。 The
Petitioner seemed bowed down with affliction： Her cheeks were
pale； her eyes dimmed with tears； and her hair fell in disorder
over her face and bosom。 Still her countenance was so sweet； so
innocent； so heavenly； as might have charmed an heart less
susceptible； than that which panted in the Abbot's breast。 With
more than usual softness of manner He desired her to proceed； and
heard her speak as follows with an emotion which increased every
moment。
'Reverend Father； you see an Unfortunate； threatened with the
loss of her dearest； of almost her only Friend！ My Mother； my
excellent Mother lies upon the bed of sickness。 A sudden and
dreadful malady seized her last night； and so rapid has been its
progress； that the Physicians despair of her life。 Human aid
fails me； Nothing remains for me but to implore the mercy of
Heaven。 Father； all Madrid rings with the report of your piety
and virtue。 Deign to remember my Mother in your prayers：
Perhaps they may prevail on the Almighty to spare her； and should
that be the case； I engage myself every Thursday in the next
three Months to illuminate the Shrine of St。 Francis in his
honour。'
'So！' thought the Monk； 'Here we have a second Vincentio della
Ronda。 Rosario's adventure began thus；' and He wished secretly
that this might have the same conclusion。
He acceded to the request。 The Petitioner returned him thanks
with every mark of gratitude； and then continued。
'I have yet another favour to ask。 We are Strangers in Madrid；
My Mother needs a Confessor； and knows not to whom She should
apply。 We understand that you never quit the Abbey； and Alas！ my
poor Mother is unable to come hither！ If you would have the
goodness； reverend Father； to name a proper person； whose wise
and pious consolations may soften the agonies of my Parent's
deathbed； you will confer an everlasting favour upon hearts not
ungrateful。'
With this petition also the Monk complied。 Indeed； what petition
would He have refused； if urged in such enchanting accents？ The
suppliant was so interesting！ Her voice was so sweet； so
harmonious！ Her very tears became her； and her affliction seemed
to add new lustre to her charms。 He promised to send to her a
Confessor that same Evening； and begged her to leave her address。
The Companion presented him with a Card on which it was written；
and then withdrew with the fair Petitioner； who pronounced
before her departure a thousand benedictions on the Abbot's
goodness。 His eyes followed her out of the Chapel。 It was not
till She was out of sight that He examined the Card； on which He
read the following words。
'Donna Elvira Dalfa； Strada di San Iago； four doors from the
Palace d'Albornos。'
The Suppliant was no other than Antonia； and