Matthew Lewis

A few days had passed, since she appeared the mildest and softest of her
sex, devoted to his will, and looking up to him as a superior being. Now
she assumed a sort of courage and manliness in her manner and discourse,
but ill calculated to please him. She spoke no longer to insinuate, but
command: he found himself unable to cope with her in argument, and
was unwillingly obliged to confess the superiority of her judgement.
Every moment convinced him of the astonishing power of her mind [. . .].
He regretted Rosario, the fond, the gentle, and submissive; he grieved
that Matilda preferred the virtues of his sex to those of her own; and
when he thought of her expressions respecting the devoted nun, he could
not help blaming them as cruel and unfeminine. Pity is a sentiment so
natural, so appropriate to the female character, that it is scarcely a merit
for a woman to possess it, but to be without it is a grievous crime.13