towards her, nestled its head between her breasts, and
nibbled them in wanton play. The smiling Antonia strove in vain to
shake off the Bird, and at length raised her hands to drive it from its
delightful harbour. Ambrosio could bear no more: His desires were
worked up to phrenzy.

'I yield!' He cried, dashing the mirror upon the ground: 'Matilda, I
follow you! Do with me what you will!'

She waited not to hear his consent repeated. It was already midnight.
She flew to her Cell, and soon returned with her little basket and the
Key of the Cemetery, which had remained in her possession since her
first visit to the Vaults. She gave the Monk no time for reflection.

'Come!' She said, and took his hand; 'Follow me, and witness the
effects of your resolve!'

This said, She drew him hastily along. They passed into the
Burying-ground unobserved, opened the door of the Sepulchre, and found
themselves at the head of the subterraneous Staircase. As yet the
beams of the full Moon had guided their steps, but that resource now
failed them. Matilda had neglected to provide herself with a Lamp.
Still holding Ambrosio's hand She descended the marble steps; But the
profound obscurity with which they were overspread obliged them to walk
slow and cautiously.

'You tremble!' said Matilda to her Companion; 'Fear not; The destined
spot is near.'

They reached the foot of the Staircase, and continued to proceed,
feeling their way along the Walls. On turning a corner suddenly, they
descried faint gleams of light which seemed burning at a distance.
Thither they bent their steps: The rays proceeded from a small
sepulchral Lamp which flamed unceasingly before the Statue of St.
Clare. It tinged with dim and cheerless beams the massy Columns which
supported the Roof, but was too feeble to dissipate the thick gloom in
which the Vaults above were buried.

Matilda took the Lamp.

'Wait for me!' said She to the Friar; 'In a few moments I am here
again.'

With these words She hastened into one of the passages which branched
in various directions from this spot, and formed a sort of Labyrinth.
Ambrosio was now left alone: Darkness the most profound surrounded him,
and encouraged the doubts which began to revive in his bosom. He had
been hurried away by the delirium of the moment: The shame of
betraying his terrors, while in Matilda's presence, had induced him to
repress them; But now that he was abandoned to himself, they resumed