The sun, which was now setting, threw a trembling lustre
upon the ruins, and gave a finishing effect to the scene. They gazed
in mute wonder upon the view; but the fast fading light, and the dewy
chillness of the air, warned them to return. As Julia gave a last
look to the scene, she perceived two men leaning upon a part of the
ruin at some distance, in earnest conversation. As they spoke, their
looks were so attentively bent on her, that she could have no doubt
she was the subject of their discourse. Alarmed at this circumstance,
madame and Julia immediately retreated towards the abbey. They walked
swiftly through the woods, whose shades, deepened by the gloom of
evening, prevented their distinguishing whether they were pursued.
They were surprized to observe the distance to which they had strayed
from the monastery, whose dark towers were now obscurely seen rising
among the trees that closed the perspective. They had almost reached
the gates, when on looking back, they perceived the same men slowly
advancing, without any appearance of pursuit, but clearly as if
observing the place of their retreat.

This incident occasioned Julia much alarm. She could not but believe
that the men whom she had seen were spies of the marquis;--if so, her
asylum was discovered, and she had every thing to apprehend. Madame
now judged it necessary to the safety of Julia, that the Abate
should be informed of her story, and of the sanctuary she had sought
in his monastery, and also that he should be solicited to protect her
from parental tyranny. This was a hazardous, but a necessary step, to
provide against the certain danger which must ensue, should the
marquis, if he demanded his daughter of the Abate, be the first to
acquaint him with her story. If she acted otherwise, she feared that
the Abate, in whose generosity she had not confided, and whose pity
she had not solicited, would, in the pride of his resentment, deliver
her up, and thus would she become a certain victim to the Duke de
Luovo.