Intoxicated with pleasure, the monk rose from the siren’s luxurious couch. He no longer reflected with shame upon his incontinence, or dreaded the vengeance of offended heaven. His only fear was lest death should rob him of enjoyments, for which his long fast had only given a keener edge to his appetite. Matilda was still under the influence of poison, and the voluptuous monk trembled less for his preserver’s life than his concubine’s. Deprived of her, he would not easily find another mistress with whom he could indulge his passions so fully, and so safely. He therefore pressed her with earnestness to use the means of preservation which she had declared to be in her possession.

“Yes!” replied Matilda; “Since you have made me feel that life is valuable, I will rescue mine at any rate. No dangers shall appall me: I will look upon the consequences of my action boldly, nor shudder at the horrors which they present. I will think my sacrifice scarcely worthy to purchase your possession, and remember that a moment passed in your arms in this world o’er-pays an age of punishment in the next. But before I take this step, Ambrosio, give me your solemn oath never to enquire by what means I shall preserve myself.”