onour: for he knew the haughty resenting Nature
of the Count, and he fear'd some Danger might arrive to the brave
_Rinaldo_, which troubled him very much. At last he resolv'd, that
neither might take any thing ill at his Hands, to lose _Atlante_, and
send her to the Monastery where her Sister was, and compel her to be a
Nun. This he thought would prevent Mischiefs on both sides; and
accordingly, the next Day, (having in the Morning sent Word to the Lady
Abbess what he would have done) he carries _Atlante_, under pretence of
visiting her Sister, (which they often did) to the Monastery, where she
was no sooner come, but she was led into the Inclosure: Her Father had
rather sacrifice her, than she should be the Cause of the Murder of two
such noble Men as _Vernole_ and _Rinaldo_.

The Noise of _Atlante's_ being inclos'd, was soon spread all over the
busy Town, and _Rinaldo_ was not the last to whom the News arriv'd: He
was for a few Days confin'd to his Chamber; where, when alone, he rav'd
like a Man distracted; But his Wounds had so incens'd his Father against
_Atlante_, that he swore he would see his Son die of them, rather than
suffer him to marry _Atlante_; and was extremely overjoy'd to find she
was condemn'd, for ever, to the Monastery. So that the Son thought it
the wisest Course, and most for the advantage of his Love, to say
nothing to contradict his Father; but being almost assur'd _Atlante_
would never consent to be shut up in a Cloyster, and abandon him, he
flatter'd himself with hope, that he should steal her from thence, and
marry her in spite of all Opposition. This he was impatient to put in
practice: He believ'd, if he were not permitted to see _Atlante_, he had
still a kind Advocate in _Charlot_, who was now arriv'd to her
Thirteenth Year, and infinitely advanc'd in Wit and Beauty. _Rinaldo_
therefore often goes to the Monastery, surrounding it, to see what
Possibility there was of accomplishing his Design; if he could get her
Consent, he finds it not impossible, and goes to visit _Charlot_; who
had command not to see him, or speak to him. This was a Cruelty he
look'd not for, and which gave him an unspeakable Trouble, and without
her Aid it was wholly impossible to give _Atlante_ any account of his
Design. In this Perplexity he remain'd many Days, in which he languish'd
almost to Death; he was distracted with Thought, and continually
hovering about the Nunnery-Walls, in hope, at some time or other, to see