by what I have seen.' As this last idea passed through his imagination, a blush spread itself over his cheek.

Alarmed at the sentiments which He was indulging, He betook himself to prayer; He started from his Couch, knelt before the beautiful Madona, and entreated her assistance in stifling such culpable emotions.

He then returned to his Bed, and resigned himself to slumber.
He awoke, heated and unrefreshed.

During his sleep his inflamed imagination had presented him with none but the most voluptuous objects.

Matilda stood before him in his dreams, and his eyes again dwelt upon her naked breast.