"
Hastily swallowing it, Marie gazed wildly in his face.--The
habiliments of the familiar had been changed for those of a
Benedictine monk; his cowl thrown back, and the now well remembered
countenance of her uncle Julien was beaming over her. In an instant,
the arm she could still use was thrown round him, and her head buried
in his bosom; every pulse throbbing with the inexpressible joy of
finding, when most desolate, one relative to love and save her still.
Julien left not his work of healing and of security incomplete;
gradually he decreased, by the constant application of linen bathed
in some cooling fluid, the scorching fire which still seemed to burn
within the maimed and shrivelled limb; parted the thick masses of
dishevelled hair from her burning temples, and bathed them with some
cooling and reviving essence; gently removed the sable robes, and
replaced them, with the dress of a young novice which he had
provided; concealed her hair beneath the white linen hood, and then,
administering a potion which he knew would produce deep and refreshing
sleep, and so effectually calm the fevered nerves, she sunk down on
the soft moss and heath which formed her couch, and slept calmly and
sweetly as an infant for many hours.
Julien Morales had entered Segovia in his monkish garb, as was
frequently his custom, on the evening of the trial.
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