“I have succeeded,” said Matilda, “though with more difficulty than I expected. Lucifer, whom I summoned to my assistance, was at first unwilling to obey my commands: to enforce his compliance I was constrained to have recourse to my strongest charms. They have produced the desired effect, but I have engaged never more to invoke his agency in your favour. Beware then, how you employ an opportunity which never will return. My magic arts will now be of no use to you: in future you can only hope for supernatural aid by invoking the daemons yourself, and accepting the conditions of their service. This you will never do: you want strength of mind to force them to obedience, and unless you pay their established price, they will not be your voluntary servants. In this one instance they consent to obey you: I offer you the means of enjoying your mistress, and be careful not to lose the opportunity. Receive this constellated myrtle: while you bear this in your hand, every door will fly open to you. It will procure you access tomorrow night to Antonia’s chamber: then breathe upon it thrice, pronounce her name, and place it upon her pillow. A deathlike slumber will immediately seize upon her, and deprive her of the power of resisting your attempts. Sleep will hold her till break of morning.

In this state you may satisfy your desires without danger of being discovered; since when daylight shall dispel the effects of the enchantment, Antonia will perceive her dishonour, but be ignorant of the ravisher. Be happy then, my Ambrosio, and let this service convince you that my friendship is disinterested and pure. The night must be near expiring: let us return to the abbey, lest our absence should create surprise.”

The abbot received the talisman with silent gratitude. His ideas were too much bewildered by the adventures of the night to permit his expressing his thanks audibly, or indeed as yet to feel the whole value of her present. Matilda took up her lamp and basket, and guided her companion from the mysterious cavern. She restored the lamp to its former place, and continued her route in darkness, till she reached the foot of the staircase. The first beams of the rising sun darting down it facilitated the ascent. Matilda and the abbot hastened out of the sepulchre, closed the door after them, and soon regained the abbey’s western cloister. No one met them, and they retired unobserved to their respective cells.