The Lamps were not yet lighted.

The faint beams of the rising Moon scarcely could pierce through the gothic obscurity of the Church.

Lorenzo found himself unable to quit the Spot.

The void left in his bosom by Antonia's absence, and his Sister's sacrifice which Don Christoval had just recalled to his imagination, created that melancholy of mind which accorded but too well with the religious gloom surrounding him.

He was still leaning against the seventh column from the Pulpit.