He is a Carmelite, and must feign this prudence.

He never knew the tyranny of the passions.

The dampness of his cell has chilled the ardor of the heart.

Had he been human, he would have loved; had he loved, he would never have worn a cowl." Father Anselmo receded a pace, like one pricked in conscience, and the paleness of his ascetic features took a deadly hue.

His lips moved as if he would have spoken, but the sounds were smothered by an oppression that denied him utterance.