entered with her Companion, closed it again after them.

Matilda now asked, who was this Agnes with whom the Prioress was
thus incensed, and what connexion She could have with Ambrosio.
He related her adventure; and He added, that since that time his
ideas having undergone a thorough revolution, He now felt much
compassion for the unfortunate Nun.

'I design,' said He, 'to request an audience of the Domina
tomorrow, and use every means of obtaining a mitigation of her
sentence.'

'Beware of what you do!' interrupted Matilda; 'Your sudden change
of sentiment may naturally create surprize, and may give birth to
suspicions which it is most our interest to avoid. Rather,
redouble your outward austerity, and thunder out menaces against
the errors of others, the better to conceal your own. Abandon
the Nun to her fate. Your interfering might be dangerous, and
her imprudence merits to be punished: She is unworthy to enjoy
Love's pleasures, who has not wit enough to conceal them. But in
discussing this trifling subject I waste moments which are
precious. The night flies apace, and much must be done before
morning. The Nuns are retired; All is safe. Give me the Lamp,
Ambrosio. I must descend alone into these Caverns: Wait here,
and if any one approaches, warn me by your voice; But as you
value your existence, presume not to follow me. Your life would
fall a victim to your imprudent curiosity.'

Thus saying She advanced towards the Sepulchre, still holding her
Lamp in one hand, and her little Basket in the other. She