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But in this same castle was one who could not sleep: after having

quitted Lucy, and given orders for her supper, he had visited the

posts of his fortress; but her image remained stamped on his

mind, her words still resounded in his ears. He retired to his

chamber, and threw himself on his bed; but in the stillness

around this same image of Lucy in her desolation and anguish took

possession still more absolutely of his thoughts, and rendered

sleep hopeless. "What new feelings are these?" thought he.

"Nibbio was right; but what is there in a woman's tears to unman

me thus? Did I never see a woman weep before? Ay, and how often

have I beheld their deepest agonies unmoved? But now--"