eted the minutes of his devotion.

His heart being thus disburdened, and his impatience gratified, he became
so calm and composed, that Don Diego was equally pleased and astonished
at the air of serenity with which he came forth, and embraced him with
warm acknowledgments of his goodness and attachment. He frankly owned,
that his mind was now more at ease than he had ever found it, since he
first received the fatal intimation of his loss; that a few such feasts
would entirely moderate the keen appetite of his sorrow, which he would
afterwards feed with less precipitation.

He also imparted to the Castilian the plan of a monument, which he had
designed for the incomparable Monimia; and Don Diego was so much struck
with the description, that he solicited his advice in projecting another,
of a different nature, to be erected to the memory of his own ill-fated
wife and daughter, should he ever be able to re-establish himself in
Spain.

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

HE RENEWS THE RITES OF SORROW, AND IS ENTRANCED.

While they amused themselves with this sort of conversation, the
physician returned with the coach, and accompanied them back to their
inn, where he left them to their repose, after having promised to call
again at noon, and conduct Renaldo to the house of Madam Clement, the
benefactress of Monimia, to whom he eagerly desired to be introduced.

The appointment was observed with all imaginable punctuality on both
sides. Melvil had arrayed himself in a suit of deep mourning, and he
found the good lady in the like habit, assumed upon the same occasion.
The goodness of her heart was manifest in her countenance; the
sensibility of the youth discovered itself in a flood of tears, which he
shed at her appearance. His sensations were too full for utterance; nor
was she, for some time, able to give him welcome. While she led him by
the hand to a seat, the drops of sympathy rushed into either eye; and at
length she broke silence, saying, "Count, we must acquiesce in the
dispensations of Providence; and quiet the transports of our grief, with
a full assurance that Monimia is happy."

This name was the key that unlocked the faculty of his speech. "I must
strive," said he, "to ease the anguish of my heart with that consolation.
But say, humane, benevolent lady, to whose compassion and generosity that
hapless orphan was indebted for the last peaceful moment she enjoyed upon
earth; say, in all your acquaintance with h