light. It rolled onwards upon concealed wheels, and was guided by
several lovely Children, dressed as Seraphs. The summit was covered
with silver clouds, upon which reclined the most beautiful form that
eyes ever witnessed. It was a Damsel representing St. Clare: Her dress
was of inestimable price, and round her head a wreath of Diamonds
formed an artificial glory: But all these ornaments yielded to the
lustre of her charms. As She advanced, a murmur of delight ran through
the Crowd. Even Lorenzo confessed secretly, that He never beheld more
perfect beauty, and had not his heart been Antonia's, it must have
fallen a sacrifice to this enchanting Girl. As it was, He considered
her only as a fine Statue: She obtained from him no tribute save cold
admiration, and when She had passed him, He thought of her no more.

'Who is She?' asked a By-stander in Lorenzo's hearing.

'One whose beauty you must often have heard celebrated. Her name is
Virginia de Villa-Franca: She is a Pensioner of St. Clare's Convent, a
Relation of the Prioress, and has been selected with justice as the
ornament of the Procession.'

The Throne moved onwards. It was followed by the Prioress herself:
She marched at the head of the remaining Nuns with a devout and
sanctified air, and closed the procession. She moved on slowly: Her
eyes were raised to heaven: Her countenance calm and tranquil seemed
abstracted from all sublunary things, and no feature betrayed her
secret pride at displaying the pomp and opulence of her Convent. She
passed along, accompanied by the prayers and benedictions of the
Populace: But how great was the general confusion and surprize, when
Don Ramirez starting forward, challenged her as his Prisoner.

For a moment amazement held the Domina silent and immoveable: But no
sooner did She recover herself, than She exclaimed against sacrilege
and impiety, and called the People to rescue a Daughter of the Church.
They were eagerly preparing to obey her; when Don Ramirez, protected by
the Archers from their rage, commanded them to forbear, and threatened
them with the severest vengeance of the Inquisition. At that dreaded
word every arm fell, every sword shrunk back into its scabbard. The
Prioress herself turned pale, and trembled. The general silence
convinced her that She had nothing to hope but from innocence, and She
besought Don Ramirez in a faultering voice, to inform her of what crime
She was accused.

'That you