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The Monk; a romance by M. G. (Matthew Gregory) Lewis
page 261 of 516 (50%)
Clare: But She has forfeited my affection in a manner yet more
culpable. Her crimes were great, and when you know the cause of
her death, you will doubtless rejoice, Don Lorenzo, that such a
Wretch is no longer in existence. She was taken ill on Thursday
last on returning from confession in the Capuchin Chapel. Her
malady seemed attended with strange circumstances; But She
persisted in concealing its cause: Thanks to the Virgin, we were
too ignorant to suspect it! Judge then what must have been our
consternation, our horror, when She was delivered the next day of
a stillborn Child, whom She immediately followed to the Grave.
How, Segnor? Is it possible that your countenance expresses no
surprize, no indignation? Is it possible that your Sister's
infamy was known to you, and that still She possessed your
affection? In that case, you have no need of my compassion. I
can say nothing more, except repeat my inability of obeying the
orders of his Holiness. Agnes is no more, and to convince you
that what I say is true, I swear by our blessed Saviour, that
three days have past since She was buried.'

Here She kissed a small crucifix which hung at her girdle. She
then rose from her chair, and quitted the Parlour. As She
withdrew, She cast upon Lorenzo a scornful smile.

'Farewell, Segnor,' said She; 'I know no remedy for this
accident: I fear that even a second Bull from the Pope will not
procure your Sister's resurrection.'

Lorenzo also retired, penetrated with affliction: But Don
Raymond's at the news of this event amounted to Madness. He
would not be convinced that Agnes was really dead, and continued
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