she dashed her head against the floor—she imprecated a thousand curses upon Julia, and swore eternal revenge.
At last, exhausted by their own violence, the warring passions subsided—a calm took possession of her soul—she thought again upon Zastrozzi's advice—Was she now cool? was she now collected?
She was now immersed in a chain of thought; unaccountable, even to herself, was the serenity which had succeeded.
CHAPTER X.
Persevering in the prosecution of her design,
the time passed away slowly to Matilda; for
Verezzi's frame, becoming every day more
emaciated, threatened, to her alarmed imagination,
approaching dissolution—slowly to Verezzi, for he
waited with impatience for the arrival of death, since
nothing but misery was his in this world.
Useless would it be to enumerate the conflicts in Matilda's soul: suffice it to say that they were many, and that their violence progressively increased.
Verezzi's illness at last assumed so dangerous an appearance that Matilda, alarmed, sent for a physician.
The humane man who had attended Verezzi before was from home, but one, skilful in his profession, arrived, who declared that a warmer climate could alone restore Verezzi's health.
Matilda proposed to him to remove to a retired and picturesque spot which she possessed in the Venetian territory. Verezzi, expecting speedy dissolution, and conceiving it to be immaterial where he died, consented; and, indeed, he was unwilling to pain one so kind as Matilda by a refusal.
