The physician declared that Antonia might quit her chamber the next day with perfect safety. He recommended her following the same prescription which, on the night before, had procured her a refreshing sleep: Flora replied that the draught stood ready upon the table: he advised the patient to take it without delay, and then retired. Flora poured the medicine into a cup and presented it to her mistress. At that moment Ambrosio’s courage failed him. Might not Matilda have deceived him? Might not jealousy have persuaded her to destroy her rival, and substitute poison in the room of an opiate? This idea appeared so reasonable that he was on the point of preventing her from swallowing the medicine. His resolution was adopted too late: the cup was already emptied, and Antonia restored it into Flora’s hands. No remedy was now to be found: Ambrosio could only expect the moment impatiently, destined to decide upon Antonia’s life or death, upon his own happiness or despair.