Don Ambrosio now put on an appearance of the greatest embarrassment and emotion.  After some delay, and much pretended confusion, he at length confessed that the seizure of her father was all a stratagem; a mere false alarm, to procure him the present opportunity of having access to her, and endeavouring to mitigate that obduracy, and conquer that repugnance, which he declared had almost driven him to distraction.

He assured her that her father was again at home in safety, and occupied in his usual pursuits; having been fully satisfied that his daughter was in honourable hands, and would soon be restored to him.  It was in vain that she threw herself at his feet, and implored to be set at liberty; he only replied by gentle entreaties, that she would pardon the seeming violence he had to use; and that she would trust a little while to his honour.  “You are here,” said he, “absolute mistress of every thing:  nothing shall be said or done to offend you; I will not even intrude upon your ear the unhappy passion that is devouring my heart.  Should you require it, I will even absent myself from your presence; but, to part with you entirely at present, with your mind full of doubts and resentments, would be worse than death to me.  No, beautiful Inez, you must first know me a little better, and know by my conduct that my passion for you is as delicate and respectful as it is vehement.”

The assurance of her father’s safety had relieved Inez from one cause of torturing anxiety, only to render her fears the more violent on her own account.  Don Ambrosio, however, continued to treat her with artful deference, that insensibly lulled her apprehensions.  It is true she found herself a captive, but no advantage appeared to be taken of her helplessness.  She soothed herself with the idea that a little while would suffice to convince Don Ambrosio of the fallacy of his hopes, and that he would be induced to restore her to her home.  Her transports of terror and affliction, therefore, subsided, in a few days, into a passive, yet anxious melancholy, with which she awaited the hoped-for event.

In the meanwhile, all those artifices were employed that are calculated to charm the senses, ensnare the feelings, and dissolve the heart into tenderness.  Don Ambrosio was a master of the subtle arts of seduction.  His very mansion breathed an enervating atmosphere of languor and delight.  It was here, amidst twilight saloons and dreamy chambers, buried among groves of orange and myrtle, that he shut himself up at times from the prying world, and gave free scope to the gratification of his pleasures.