Her fears
had conquered even her natural loquacity, and while in his
presence She uttered not a single syllable.
The Monk retired to his Cell, whither He was pursued by Antonia's
image. He felt a thousand new emotions springing in his bosom,
and He trembled to examine into the cause which gave them birth.
They were totally different from those inspired by Matilda, when
She first declared her sex and her affection. He felt not the
provocation of lust; No voluptuous desires rioted in his bosom;
Nor did a burning imagination picture to him the charms which
Modesty had veiled from his eyes. On the contrary, what He now
felt was a mingled sentiment of tenderness, admiration, and
respect. A soft and delicious melancholy infused itself into his
soul, and He would not have exchanged it for the most lively
transports of joy. Society now disgusted him: He delighted in
solitude, which permitted his indulging the visions of Fancy:
His thoughts were all gentle, sad, and soothing, and the whole
wide world presented him with no other object than Antonia.
'Happy Man!' He exclaimed in his romantic enthusiasm; 'Happy Man,
who is destined to possess the heart of that lovely Girl! What
delicacy in her features! What elegance in her form! How
enchanting was the timid innocence of her eyes, and how different
from the wanton expression, the wild luxurious fire which
sparkles in Matilda's! Oh! sweeter must one kiss be snatched
from the rosy lips of the First, than all the full and lustful
favours bestowed so freely by the Second.
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