much exhausted that the Physicians declined pronouncing
upon the consequences likely to ensue. As for Raymond himself, He
wished for nothing more earnestly than to join Agnes in the grave.
Existence was hateful to him: He saw nothing in the world deserving
his attention; and He hoped to hear that Agnes was revenged, and
himself given over in the same moment.

Followed by Raymond's ardent prayers for success, Lorenzo was at the
Gates of St. Clare a full hour before the time appointed by the Mother
St. Ursula. He was accompanied by his Uncle, by Don Ramirez de Mello,
and a party of chosen Archers. Though in considerable numbers their
appearance created no surprize: A great Crowd was already assembled
before the Convent doors, in order to witness the Procession. It was
naturally supposed that Lorenzo and his Attendants were conducted
thither by the same design. The Duke of Medina being recognised, the
People drew back, and made way for his party to advance. Lorenzo
placed himself opposite to the great Gate, through which the Pilgrims
were to pass. Convinced that the Prioress could not escape him, He
waited patiently for her appearance, which She was expected to make
exactly at Midnight.

The Nuns were employed in religious duties established in honour of St.
Clare, and to which no Prophane was ever admitted. The Chapel windows
were illuminated. As they stood on the outside, the Auditors heard the
full swell of the organ, accompanied by a chorus of female voices, rise
upon the stillness of the night. This died away, and was succeeded by a
single strain of harmony: It was the voice of her who was destined to
sustain in the procession the character of St. Clare. For this office
the most beautiful Virgin of Madrid was always selected, and She upon
whom the choice fell esteemed it as the highest of honours. While
listening to the Music, whose melody distance only seemed to render
sweeter, the Audience was wrapped up in profound attention. Universal
silence prevailed through the Crowd, and every heart was filled with
reverence for religion. Every heart but Lorenzo's. Conscious that
among those who chaunted the praises of their God so sweetly, there
were some who cloaked with devotion the foulest sins, their hymns
inspired him with detestation at their Hypocrisy. He had long observed
with disapprobation and contempt the superstition which governed
Madrid's Inhabitants. His good sense had pointed out to him the