Julia accustomed herself to walk in the fine evenings under the shade
of the high trees that environed the abbey. The dewy coolness of the
air refreshed her. The innumerable roseate tints which the parting
sun-beams reflected on the rocks above, and the fine vermil glow
diffused over the romantic scene beneath, softly fading from the eye,
as the nightshades fell, excited sensations of a sweet and tranquil
nature, and soothed her into a temporary forgetfulness of her sorrows.

The deep solitude of the place subdued her apprehension, and one
evening she ventured with Madame de Menon to lengthen her walk. They
returned to the abbey without having seen a human being, except a
friar of the monastery, who had been to a neighbouring town to order
provision. On the following evening they repeated their walk; and,
engaged in conversation, rambled to a considerable distance from the
abbey. The distant bell of the monastery sounding for vespers,
reminded them of the hour, and looking round, they perceived the
extremity of the wood. They were returning towards the abbey, when
struck by the appearance of some majestic columns which were
distinguishable between the trees, they paused. Curiosity tempted them
to examine to what edifice pillars of such magnificent architecture
could belong, in a scene so rude, and they went on.

There appeared on a point of rock impending over the valley the
reliques of a palace, whose beauty time had impaired only to heighten
its sublimity. An arch of singular magnificence remained almost
entire, beyond which appeared wild cliffs retiring in grand
perspective.