She lay, her head reclining upon Lorenzo’s bosom, and her lips still murmuring to him words of comfort. She was interrupted by the convent bell, as tolling at a distance, it struck the hour. Suddenly Antonia’s eyes sparkled with celestial brightness: her frame seemed to have received new strength and animation. She started from her lover’s arms.

“Three o’clock!” she cried; “Mother, I come!”

She clasped her hands, and sank lifeless upon the ground. Lorenzo in agony threw himself beside her: he tore his hair, beat his breast, and refused to be separated from the corse. At length his force being exhausted, he suffered himself to be led from the vault, and was conveyed to the Palace de Medina scarcely more alive than the unfortunate Antonia.