Melmoth the Wanderer by Charles Maturin

Que donne le monde aux siens plus souvent, / Echo Vent. / Que dois-je vaincre ici, sans jamais relacher, / Echo la chair. / Qui fit le cause des maux, qui me sont survenus, / Echo Venus. / Que faut dire après d'une telle infidelle, / Echo Fi d'elle. / - Magdaleniade, by Father Pierre de St. Louis

Three years had elapsed since the parting of Immalee and the stranger, when one evening the attention of some Spanish gentlemen, who were walking in a public place in Madrid, was arrested by a figure that passed them, habited in the dress of the country (only without a sword), and walking very slowly. They stopped by a kind of simultaneous movement, and seemed to ask each other, with silent looks, what had been the cause of the impression this person's appearance had made on them. There was nothing remarkable in his figure -- his demeanour was quiet; it was the singular expression of his countenance which had struck them with a sensation they could neither define or account for.