man,
you doubtless obeyed her injunctions?'

'I did,' replied the senator; 'but the next evening I revisited the
garden grove, and, as soon as I struck the chords, as if by magic, she
again approached. At this second interview I learned the reason of her
mysterious appearances and departures. Her father, she told me, was
one of a new sect, who imagine--with what reason it is impossible to
comprehend--that they recommend themselves to their Deity by making
their lives one perpetual round of bodily suffering and mental anguish.
Not content with distorting all his own feelings and faculties, this
tyrant perpetrated his insane austerities upon the poor child as well.
He forbade her to enter a theatre, to look on sculpture, to read
poetry, to listen to music. He made her learn long prayers, and attend
to interminable sermons. He allowed her no companions of her own
age--not even girls like herself. The only recreation that she could
obtain was the permission--granted with much reluctance and many
rebukes--to cultivate a little garden which belonged to the house they
lived in, and joined at one point the groves round my palace. There,
while she was engaged over her flowers, she first heard the sound of my
lute for many months before I had discovered her, she had been in the
habit of climbing the enclosure that bounded her garden, and hiding
herself among the trees to listen to the music, whenever her father's
concerns took him abroad. She had been discovered in this occupation
by an old man appointed to watch her in his master's absence. The
attendant, however, on hearing her confession, not only promised to
keep her secret, but permitted her to continue her visits to my grove
whenever I chanced to be playing there on the lute. Now the most
mysterious part of this matter is, that the girl seemed--in spite of
his severity towards her--to have a great affection for her surly; for,
when I offered to deliver her from his custody, she declared that
nothing could induce her to desert him--not even the attraction of
living among fine pictures and hearing beautiful music every hour in
the day. But I see I weary you; and, indeed, it is evident from the
length of the shadows that the hour of my departure is at hand. Let me
then pass from my introductory interviews with Antonina, to the
consequences that had resulted from them when I set forth on my journey
to Ravenna.'

'I think I can imagine the consequences already!' s