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the reward of his daring： He inflamed his imagination by
enumerating her charms。 He persuaded himself that （as Matilda
had observed）； He always should have time sufficient for
repentance； and that as He employed HER assistance； not that of
the Daemons； the crime of Sorcery could not be laid to his
charge。 He had read much respecting witchcraft： He understood
that unless a formal Act was signed renouncing his claim to
salvation； Satan would have no power over him。 He was fully
determined not to execute any such act； whatever threats might be
used； or advantages held out to him。
Such were his meditations while waiting for Matilda。 They were
interrupted by a low murmur which seemed at no great distance
from him。 He was startled。 He listened。 Some minutes past in
silence； after which the murmur was repeated。 It appeared to be
the groaning of one in pain。 In any other situation； this
circumstance would only have excited his attention and curiosity：
In the present； his predominant sensation was that of terror。 His
imagination totally engrossed by the ideas of sorcery and
Spirits； He fancied that some unquiet Ghost was wandering near
him； or else that Matilda had fallen a Victim to her presumption；
and was perishing under the cruel fangs of the Daemons。 The
noise seemed not to approach； but continued to be heard at
intervals。 Sometimes it became more audible； doubtless as the
sufferings of the person who uttered the groans became
more acute and insupportable。 Ambrosio now and then thought
that He could distinguish accents； and once in particular He was
almost convinced that He heard a faint voice exclaim；
'God！ Oh！ God！ No hope！ No succour！'
Yet deeper groans followed these words。 They died away
gradually； and universal silence again prevailed。
'What can this mean？' thought the bewildered Monk。
At that moment an idea which flashed into his mind； almost
petrified him with horror。 He started； and shuddered at himself。
'Should it be possible！' He groaned involuntarily； 'Should it but
be possible； Oh！ what a Monster am I！'
He wished to resolve his doubts； and to repair his fault； if it
were not too late already： But these generous and compassionate
sentiments were soon put to flight by the return of Matilda。 He
forgot the groaning Sufferer； and remembered nothing but the
danger and embarrassment of his own situation。 The light of the
returning Lamp gilded the walls； and in a few moments after
Matilda stood beside him。 She had quitted her religious habit：
She was now cloathed in a long sable Robe； on which was traced in
gold embroidery a variety of unknown characters： It was fastened
by a girdle of precious stones； in which was fixed a poignard。
Her neck and arms were uncovered。 In her hand She bore a golden
wand。 Her hair was loose and flowed wildly upon her shoulders；
Her eyes sparkled with terrific expression； and her whole
Demeanour was calculated to inspire the beholder with awe and
admiration。
'Follow me！' She said to the Monk in a low and solemn voice； 'All
is ready！'
His limbs trembled； while He obeyed her。 She led him through
various narrow passages； and on every side as they past along；
the beams of the Lamp displayed none but the most revolting
objects； Skulls； Bones； Graves； and Images whose eyes seemed to
glare on them with horror and surprize。 At length they reached a
spacious Cavern； whose lofty roof the eye sought in vain to
discover。 A profound obscurity hovered through the void。 Damp
vapours struck cold to the Friar's heart； and He listened sadly
to the blast while it howled along the lonely Vaults。 Here
Matilda stopped。 She turned to Ambrosio。 His cheeks and lips
were pale with apprehension。 By a glance of mingled scorn and
anger She reproved his pusillanimity； but She spoke not。 She
placed the Lamp upon the ground； near the Basket。 She motioned
that Ambrosio should be silent； and began the mysterious rites。
She drew a circle round him； another round herself； and then
taking a small Phial from the Basket； poured a few drops upon the
ground before her。 She bent over the place； muttered some
indistinct sentences； and immediately a pale sulphurous flame
arose from the ground。 It increased by degrees； and at length
spread its waves over the whole surface； the circles alone
excepted in which stood Matilda and the Monk。 It then ascended
the huge Columns of unhewn stone； glided along the roof； and
formed the Cavern into an immense chamber totally covered with
blue trembling fire。 It emitted no heat： On the contrary； the
extreme chillness of the place seemed to augment with every
moment。 Matilda continued her incantations： At intervals She
took various articles from the Basket； the nature and name of
most of which were unknown to the Friar： But among the few which
He distinguished； He particularly observed three human fingers；
and an Agnus Dei which She broke in pieces。 She threw them all
into the flames which burned before her； and they were instantly
consumed。
The Monk beheld her with anxious curiosity。 Suddenly She uttered
a loud and piercing shriek。 She appeared to be seized with an
access of delirium； She tore her hair； beat her bosom； used the
most frantic gestures； and drawing the poignard from her girdle
plunged it into her left arm。 The blood gushed out plentifully；
and as She stood on the brink of the circle； She took care that
it should fall on the outside。 The flames retired from the spot
on which the blood was pouring。 A volume of dark clouds rose
slowly from the ensanguined earth； and ascended gradually； till
it reached the vault of the Cavern。 At the same time a clap of
thunder was heard： The echo pealed fearfully along the
subterraneous passages； and the ground shook beneath the feet of
the Enchantress。
It was now that Ambrosio repented of his rashness。 The solemn
singularity of the charm had prepared him for something strange
and horrible。 He waited with fear for the Spirit's appearance；
whose coming was announced by thunder and earthquakes。 He looked
wildly round him； expecting that some dreadful Apparition would
meet his eyes； the sight of which would drive him mad。 A cold
shivering seized his body； and He sank upon one knee； unable to
support himself。
'He comes！' exclaimed Matilda in a joyful accent。
Ambrosio started； and expected the Daemon with terror。 What was
his surprize； when the Thunder ceasing to roll； a full strain of
melodious Music sounded in the air。 At the same time the cloud
dispersed； and He beheld a Figure more beautiful than Fancy's
pencil ever drew。 It was a Youth seemingly scarce eighteen； the
perfection of whose form and face was unrivalled。 He was
perfectly naked： A bright Star sparkled upon his forehead； Two
crimson wings extended themselves from his shoulders； and his
silken locks were confined by a band of many…coloured fires；
which played round his head； formed themselves into a variety of
figures； and shone with a brilliance far surpassing that of
precious Stones。 Circlets of Diamonds were fastened round his
arms and ankles； and in his right hand He bore a silver branch；
imitating Myrtle。 His form shone with dazzling glory： He was
surrounded by clouds of rose…coloured light； and at the moment
that He appeared； a refreshing air breathed perfumes through the
Cavern。 Enchanted at a vision so contrary to his expectations；
Ambrosio gazed upon the Spirit with delight and wonder： Yet
however beautiful the Figure； He could not but remark a wildness
in the Daemon's eyes； and a mysterious melancholy impressed upon
his features； betraying the Fallen Angel； and inspiring the
Spectators with secret awe。
The Music ceased。 Matilda addressed herself to the Spirit： She
spoke in a language unintelligible to the Monk； and was answered
in the same。 She seemed to insist upon something which the
Daemon was unwilling to grant。 He frequently darted upon
Ambrosio angry glances； and at such times the Friar's heart sank
within him。 Matilda appeared to grow incensed。 She spoke in a
loud and commanding tone； and her gestures declared that She was
threatening him with her vengeance。 He