Her
bosom panted: She twined her arms voluptuously round him, drew
him towards her, and glewed her lips to his. Ambrosio again
raged with desire: The die was thrown: His vows were already
broken; He had already committed the crime, and why should He
refrain from enjoying its reward? He clasped her to his breast
with redoubled ardour. No longer repressed by the sense of
shame, He gave a loose to his intemperate appetites. While the
fair Wanton put every invention of lust in practice, every
refinement in the art of pleasure which might heighten the bliss
of her possession, and render her Lover's transports still more
exquisite, Ambrosio rioted in delights till then unknown to him:
Swift fled the night, and the Morning blushed to behold him still
clasped in the embraces of Matilda.
Intoxicated with pleasure, the Monk rose from the Syren's
luxurious Couch. He no longer reflected with shame upon his
incontinence, or dreaded the vengeance of offended heaven. His
only fear was lest Death should rob him of enjoyments, for which
his long Fast had only given a keener edge to his appetite.
Matilda was still under the influence of poison, and the
voluptuous Monk trembled less for his Preserver's life than his
Concubine's. Deprived of her, He would not easily find another
Mistress with whom He could indulge his passions so fully, and
so safely. He therefore pressed her with earnestness to use the
means of preservation which She had declared to be in her
possession.
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