One morning, the confluence of penitents was greater than usual. He was detained in the confessional chair till a late hour. At length the crowd was dispatched, and he prepared to quit the chapel, when two females entered and drew near him with humility. They threw up their veils, and the youngest entreated him to listen to her for a few moments. The melody of her voice, of that voice to which no man ever listened without interest, immediately caught Ambrosio’s attention. He stopped. The petitioner seemed bowed down with affliction: her cheeks were pale, her eyes dimmed with tears, and her hair fell in disorder over her face and bosom. Still her countenance was so sweet, so innocent, so heavenly, as might have charmed an heart less susceptible, than that which panted in the abbot’s breast. With more than usual softness of manner he desired her to proceed, and heard her speak as follows with an emotion which increased every moment.