We now behold Angelo ruined, and unnoticed by his worldly friends, pillaged and deserted by an abandoned mistress, forsaken even by the child he loved, forgotten and shunned in his adversity by all, save Gabrielle, by all save her whom in his prosperity he had insulted, injured, and betrayed. She, and she alone, was his firm sheet anchor in the storm; his friend, his comforter, she accompanied him to a wretched abode, far, far different indeed to those he had been accustomed to, an abode, such as would have excited the contempt of ephemeral friends, and which none would have entered who loved him not for himself alone.