ghts of Magic: Like you I had
formed a terrible idea of the consequences of raising a daemon. To
preserve that life which your love had taught me to prize, I had
recourse to means which I trembled at employing. You remember that
night which I past in St. Clare's Sepulchre? Then was it that,
surrounded by mouldering bodies, I dared to perform those mystic rites
which summoned to my aid a fallen Angel. Judge what must have been my
joy at discovering that my terrors were imaginary: I saw the Daemon
obedient to my orders, I saw him trembling at my frown, and found that,
instead of selling my soul to a Master, my courage had purchased for
myself a Slave.'

'Rash Matilda! What have you done? You have doomed yourself to
endless perdition; You have bartered for momentary power eternal
happiness! If on witchcraft depends the fruition of my desires, I
renounce your aid most absolutely. The consequences are too horrible:
I doat upon Antonia, but am not so blinded by lust as to sacrifice for
her enjoyment my existence both in this world and the next.'

'Ridiculous prejudices! Oh! blush, Ambrosio, blush at being subjected
to their dominion. Where is the risque of accepting my offers? What
should induce my persuading you to this step, except the wish of
restoring you to happiness and quiet. If there is danger, it must fall
upon me: It is I who invoke the ministry of the Spirits; Mine
therefore will be the crime, and yours the profit. But danger there is
none: The Enemy of Mankind is my Slave, not my Sovereign. Is there no
difference between giving and receiving laws, between serving and
commanding? Awake from your idle dreams, Ambrosio! Throw from you
these terrors so ill-suited to a soul like yours; Leave them for common
Men, and dare to be happy! Accompany me this night to St. Clare's
Sepulchre, witness my incantations, and Antonia is your own.'

'To obtain her by such means I neither can, or will. Cease then to
persuade me, for I dare not employ Hell's agency.

'You DARE not? How have you deceived me! That mind which I esteemed
so great and valiant, proves to be feeble, puerile, and grovelling, a
slave to vulgar errors, and weaker than a Woman's.'

'What? Though conscious of the danger, wilfully shall I expose myself
to the Seducer's arts? Shall I renounce for ever my title to
salvation? Shall my eyes seek a sight which I know will blast them?
No, no, Matilda; I will not ally myself with God's Enemy.