Hastily he mounted the steps; when a figure dressed in white started from the alcove, and gliding by him, made with precipitation towards the closet. Madness and despair now supplied the monk with that courage, of which he had till then been destitute. He flew down the steps, pursued the apparition, and attempted to grasp it.

“Ghost, or devil, I hold you!” he exclaimed, and seized the spectre by the arm.

“Oh! Christ Jesus!” cried a shrill voice; “Holy father, how you grip me! I protest that I meant no harm!”

This address, as well as the arm which he held, convinced the abbot that the supposed ghost was substantial flesh and blood. He drew the intruder towards the table, and holding up the light, discovered the features of⁠ ⁠… Madonna Flora!

Incensed at having been betrayed by this trifling cause into fears so ridiculous, he asked her sternly, what business had brought her to that chamber. Flora, ashamed at being found out, and terrified at the severity of Ambrosio’s looks, fell upon her knees, and promised to make a full confession.