The youth flung himself at Ambrosio's feet.
"Oh, pity me!" he cried. "How willingly would I unveil to you my heart! But I fear------"
"How shall I reassure you? Reveal to me what afflicts you, and I swear that your secret shall be safe in my keeping."
"Father," said Rosario, in faltering accents, "I am a woman!"
The abbot stood still for a moment in astonishment, then turned hastily to go. But the suppliant clasped his knees.
"Do not fly me!" she cried. "You are my beloved; but far is it from Matilda's wish to draw you from the paths of virtue. All I ask is to see you, to converse with you, to adore you!"
Confusion and resentment mingled in Ambrosio's mind with secret pleasure that a young and lovely woman had thus for his sake abandoned the world. But he recognised the need for austerity.
"Matilda," he said, "you must leave the abbey to-morrow."
"Cruel, cruel!" she exclaimed, wringing her hands in agony. "Farewell, my friend! And yet, methinks, I would fain bear with me some token of your regard."
"What shall I give you?"