The Monk, by Matthew Lewis

Second paragraph of third chapter:

They arrived at the Hotel de las Cisternas. The Marquis immediately conducted him to his apartment, and began to express his satisfaction at finding him at Madrid. Lorenzo interrupted him.

Another of the books that I was reading with a group of Facebook friends, at the rate of a chapter a week. It’s one of the original Gothic novels, published in 1796, full of English hand-wringing about the evils of Catholicism and the power of the Church in Spain, and the stereotypical corruption of the monastic system. It’s full of glorious nonsense; at one point, a character declares that she can only be saved from poisoning if the Monk of the title will have sex with her, which is a rather romantic view of the interaction between poisoning symptoms and libido. The book slips further and further from the real world into horror and at the end the Monk has a decisive interaction with Lucifer himself. Fun stuff, and you can see its roots in much later horror. You can get it here.