Ambrosio ventured to open his eyes, and to cast them upon her fearfully.

Her face was turned from him.

She rested her head in a melancholy posture upon her Harp, and gazed on the picture which hung opposite to the Bed.
'Happy, happy Image!' Thus did She address the beautiful Madona; ''Tis to you that He offers his prayers! 'Tis on you that He gazes with admiration! I thought you would have lightened my sorrows; You have only served to increase their weight: You have made me feel that had I known him ere his vows were pronounced, Ambrosio and happiness might have been mine.

With what pleasure He views this picture! With what fervour He addresses his prayers to the insensible Image! Ah! may not his sentiments be inspired by some kind and secret Genius, Friend to my affection?
May it not be Man's natural instinct which informs him...
Be silent, idle hopes! Let me not encourage an idea which takes from the brilliance of Ambrosio's virtue.

'Tis Religion, not Beauty which attracts his admiration; 'Tis not to the Woman, but the Divinity that He kneels.