any
parent. When Leocadia fainted in his arms, he had bandaged her eyes, in
order that she might not notice the streets through which she passed, or
the house into which he took her; and before she recovered her senses,
he effected his guilty purpose.

Apathy and disgust commonly follow satiated lust. Rodolfo was now
impatient to get rid of Leocadia, and made up his mind to lay her in
the street, insensible as she was. He had set to work with that
intention, when she came to herself, saying, "Where am I? Woe is me!
What darkness is this? Am I in the limbo of my innocence, or the hell of
my sins? Who touches me? Am I in bed? Mother! dear father! do you hear
me? Alas, too well I perceive that you cannot hear me, and that I am in
the hands of enemies. Well would it be for me if this darkness were to
last for ever, and my eyes were never more to see the light! Whoever
thou art," She exclaimed, suddenly seizing Rodolfo's hand, "if thy soul
is capable of pity, grant me one prayer: having deprived me of honour,
now deprive me of life. Let me not survive my disgrace! In mercy kill me
this moment! It is the only amends I ask of you for the wrong you have
done me."

Confused by the vehemence of her reproaches, Rodolfo knew not what to
say or do, and answered not a word. This silence so astonished Leocadia,
that she began to fancy she was dreaming, or haunted by a phantom; but
the hands she grasped were of flesh and blood. She remembered the
violence with which she had been torn from her parents, and she became
but too well aware of the real nature of her calamity. After a
passionate burst of tears and groans, "Inhuman youth!" she continued,
"for your deeds assure me that your years are few, I will forgive the
outrage you have done me, on the sole condition that you promise and vow
to conceal your crime in perpetual silence, as profound as this darkness
in which you have perpetrated it. This is but a small recompense for so
grievous a wrong; but it is the greatest which I can ask, or you can
grant me. I have never seen your face, nor ever desire to see it. It is
enough for me to remember the injury I have sustained, without having
before my mind's eye the image of my ravisher. My complaints shall be
addressed only to Heaven: I would not have them heard by the world,
which judges not according to the circumstances of each case, but
according to its own preconceived notions. You may wonder to hear me
speak thus, being so young. I