I knew innocence hovering on the brink of destruction for my sake.
I now went to my mother's late mansion, where on my approach, the escutcheon hung out in its front, painfully convinced me of its being deserted by its respected and beloved tenant, I knocked; a strange servant opened the door, and having enquired after Don Antonio, was informed that he was up stairs.
I desired the man to announce immediately to his master the arrival of Don Carlos de Grandez, his friend, who was supposed to have been murdered. The fellow walked up and I followed him gently to the very door of the apartment. I heard him deliver his message, on which I prepared to enter, when my friend prevented me by eagerly flying to the door and rushing into my arms. The circumstances and sensations attending such a meeting are better passed over in silence, as they beggar all the powers of language. Having remained for some time in mute rapture, I did all I could to rouze him from his astonishment, by relating every particular of
