Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. He ventured to the great gates, and by inserting his gimblets into the wood at intervals, so as to form points upon which he could rest his foot, he contrived, to ascend them; and when at the top, having fastened a portion of his dress to the spikes, he managed, not without considerable risk, to draw up his female companion. Thinking of Mantua, she wandered to the courtyard. Their subsequent conversation is outside the scope of our story. Since then he has persistently annoyed me. I’m a man, and I know what I mean. She had found the mausoleum underneath a broken monument. To many in that crowded solitude it came as an extraordinary relief.
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