[Illustration: _E. Kirkall fec._]




                            _LOVE in Excess_;
                                 OR THE
                             FATAL ENQUIRY,
                                    A
                                 NOVEL.

                             In THREE PARTS.

                            By Mrs. HAYWOOD.

                    ----_In vain from Fate we fly,_
                    _For first or last, as all must die,_
                    _So ’tis as much decreed above,_
                    _That first or last, we all must Love._

                                                 LANSDOWN.

                      The Fourth EDITION Corrected.

                                _LONDON_:
        Printed for D. BROWNE _jun._ at the _Black Swan_ without
                         _Temple Bar_. MDCCXXII.




[Illustration]




TO

Mrs. ELIZ. HAYWOOD,

ON HER

NOVEL

CALL’D

_Love in Excess_, &c.


    _Fain wou’d I here my vast Ideas raise,_
    _To paint the Wonders of ELIZA’s praise;_
    _But like young Artists where their Stroaks decay,_
    _I shade those Glories which I can’t display._
    _Thy Prose in sweeter Harmony refines,_
    _Than Numbers flowing thro’ the Muse’s Lines;_
    _What Beauty ne’er cou’d melt, thy Touches fire,_
    _And raise a Musick that can Love inspire;_
    _Soul-thrilling Accents all our Senses wound,_
    _And Strike with softness, whilst they Charm with sound!_
    _When thy COUNT pleads, what Fair his Suit can flye?_
    _Or when thy Nymph laments, what Eyes are dry?_
    _Ev’n Nature’s self in Sympathy appears,_
    _Yeilds Sigh for Sigh, and melts in equal Tears;_
    _For such Descriptions thus at once can prove_
    _The Force of Language, and the Sweets of Love._

      _The Myrtle’s Leaves with those of Fame entwine,_
    _And all the Glories of that Wreath are thine?_
    _As Eagles can undazzl’d view the Force_
    _Of scorching PHŒBUS in his Noon-day Course;_
    _Thy Genius to the God its Luster plays,_
    _Meets his fierce Beams, and darts him Rays for Rays!_
    _Oh Glorious Strength! Let each succeeding Page_
    _Still boast those Charms and luminate the Age;_
    _So shall thy beamful Fires with Light divine_
    _Rise to the Sphere, and there triumphant Shine._

                                     RICHARD SAVAGE.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




By an unknown Hand.

To the most Ingenious Mrs HAYWOOD, on her NOVEL Entitled,

_Love in Excess:_


    _A Stranger Muse, an Unbeliever too,_
    _That Womens Souls such Strength of Vigour knew!_
    _Nor less an Atheist to Love’s Power declar’d,_
    _Till YOU a Champion for the Sex appear’d!_
    _A Convert now, to both, I feel that Fire_
    _YOUR Words alone can paint! YOUR Looks inspire!_
    _Resistless now, Love’s shafts new pointed fly,_
    _Wing’d with YOUR Flame, and blazing in YOUR Eye._
    _With sweet, but pow’rful Force, the Charm-shot Heart_
    _Receives th’ Impression of the Conqu’ring Dart,_
    _And ev’ry Art’ry huggs the Joy-tipt Smart!_

      _No more of PHŒBUS, rising vainly boast,_
    _Ye tawny Sons of a luxuriant Coast!_
    _While our blest Isle is with such Rays replete,_
    _BRITAIN shall glow with more than Eastern Heat!_




[Illustration]




VERSES

Wrote in the Blank Leaf of

Mrs. _Haywood_’s NOVEL.


    _Of all the Passions given us from above,_
    _The Noblest, Truest, and the Best, is Love;_
    _’Tis Love awakes the Soul, informs the Mind,_
    _And bends the stubborn Temper to be kind,_
    _Abates the Edge of ev’ry poi’nant Care_
    _Succeeds the Wishes of the trembling Fair,_
    _And ravishes the Lover from Despair._
    _’Tis Love ELIZA’s soft Affections fires,_
    _ELIZA writes, but Love alone inspires;_
    _’Tis Love, that gives D’ELMONT his manly Charms,_
    _And tears AMENA from her Father’s Arms;_
    _Relieves the Fair one from her Maiden Fear,_
    _And gives MELLIORA all her Soul holds dear,_
    _A generous Lover, and a Bliss sincere._

      _Receive, my Fair, the Story, and approve,_
    _The Cause of HONOUR, and the Cause of LOVE;_
    _With kind Concern, the tender Page peruse,_
    _And aid the Infant Labours of the Muse._
    _So never may those Eyes forget to shine,_
    _And bright MELLIORA’s Fortune be as Thine;_
    _On thy best Looks, an happy D’ELMONT feed,_
    _And all the Wishes of thy Soul succeed._




[Illustration]




LOVE in EXCESS:

OR, THE

FATAL ENQUIRY.

PART the FIRST.


In the late War between the _French_ and the _Confederate_ Armies, there
were two BROTHERS, who had acquir’d a more than ordinary Reputation,
under the Command of the great and intrepid LUXEMBOURGH. But the
Conclusion of the Peace taking away any further Occasions of shewing
their Valour, the Eldest of ’em, whose Name was COUNT D’ELMONT, return’d
to PARIS, from whence he had been absent two Years, leaving his Brother
at St. OMER’s, ’till the Cure of some slight Wounds were perfected.

The Fame of the _Count_’s brave Actions arriv’d before him, and he
had the Satisfaction of being receiv’d by the KING and COURT, after
a Manner that might gratify the Ambition of the proudest. The Beauty
of his Person, the Gayity of his Air, and the unequal’d Charms of his
Conversation, made him the Admiration of both Sexes; and whilst those of
his _own_ strove which should gain the largest share in his Friendship;
the _other_ vented fruitless Wishes, and in secret, curs’d that Custom
which forbids Women to make a Declaration of their Thoughts. Amongst the
Number of these, was ALOVISA, a Lady descended (by the Father’s Side)
from the Noble Family of the D’ LA TOURS formerly Lord of BEUJEY, and (by
her Mothers) from the equally Illustrious House of MONTMORENCY. The late
Death of her Parents had left her Coheiress (with her Sister,) of a vast
Estate.

ALOVISA, if her Passion was not greater than the rest, her Pride, and
the good Opinion she had of her self, made her the less able to support
it; she sigh’d, she burn’d, she rag’d, when she perceiv’d the Charming
D’ELMONT behav’d himself toward her with no Mark of a distinguishing
Affection. What (said she) have I beheld without Concern a Thousand
Lovers at my Feet, and shall the only Man I ever endeavour’d, or wish’d
to Charm, regard me with Indifference? Wherefore has the agreeing World
join’d with my deceitful Glass to flatter me into a vain Belief I had
invincible Attractions? D’ELMONT sees ’em not! D’ELMONT is insensible.
Then would she fall into Ravings, sometimes cursing her own want of
Power, sometimes the Coldness of D’ELMONT. Many Days she pass’d in these
Inquietudes, and every time she saw him (which was very frequently)
either at Court, at Church, or publick Meetings, she found fresh Matter
for her troubled Thoughts to work upon: When on any Occasion he happen’d
to speak to her, it was with that Softness in his Eyes, and that engaging
tenderness in his Voice, as would half persuade her, that, that God had
touch’d his Heart, which so powerfully had Influenc’d hers; but if a
glimmering of such a Hope gave her a Pleasure inconceivable, how great
were the ensuing Torments, when she observ’d those Looks and Accents were
but the Effects of his natural Complaisance, and that to whomsoever he
Address’d, he carried an equality in his Behaviour, which sufficiently
evinc’d, his Hour was not yet come to feel those Pains he gave; and if
the afflicted fair Ones found any Consolation, it was in the Reflection,
that no Triumphant Rival could boast a Conquest, each now despair’d of
gaining. But the impatient ALOVISA disdaining to be rank’d with those,
whom her Vanity made her consider as infinitely her Inferiors, suffer’d
her self to be agitated almost to Madness, between the two Extreams of
Love and Indignation; a thousand _Chimeras_ came into her Head, and
sometimes prompted her to discover the Sentiments she had in his Favour:
But these Resolutions were rejected, almost as soon as form’d, and she
could not fix on any for a long time; ’till at last, Love (ingenious in
Invention,) inspir’d her with one, which probably might let her into the
Secrets of his Heart, without the Shame of revealing her own.

The Celebration of Madam the Dutchess of BURGUNDY’s Birth-day being
Solemniz’d with great Magnificence; she writ this _Billet_ to him on the
Night before.

    [Illustration]

    To Count D’ELMONT.

    _Resistless as you are in War, you are much more so in Love;
    Here you conquer without making an Attack, and we Surrender
    before you Summons; the Law of Arms obliges you to show Mercy
    to an yielding Enemy, and sure the Court cannot inspire less
    generous Sentiments than the Field. The little God lays down
    his Arrows at your Feet, confesses your superior Power, and
    begs a Friendly Treatment; he will appear to you to morrow
    Night at the Ball, in the Eyes of the most passionate of
    all his Votresses; search therefore for him in Her, in whom
    (amongst that bright Assembly) you would most desire to find
    Him; I am confident you have too much Penetration to miss of
    him, if not bypass’d by a former Inclination, and in that Hope,
    I shall (as patiently as my Expectations will let me) support,
    ’till then, the tedious Hours._

                                                          Farewell.


This she sent by a trusty Servant, and so disguis’d, that it was
impossible for him to be known, with a strict Charge to deliver it to
the _Count_’s own Hands, and come away before he had read it; the Fellow
perform’d her Orders exactly, and when the _Count_, who was not a little
surpriz’d at the first opening it, ask’d for the Messenger, and commanded
he should be stay’d; his Gentleman (who then was waiting in his Chamber,)
told him he ran down Stairs with all the speed imaginable, immediately
on his Lordship’s receiving it. D’ELMONT having never experienc’d
the Force of Love, could not presently comprehend the Truth of this
Adventure; at first he imagin’d some of his Companions had caus’d this
Letter to be wrote, either to sound his Inclinations, or upbraid his
little Disposition to Gallantry; but these Cogitations soon gave Place
to others; and tho’ he was not very vain, yet he found it no difficulty
to perswade himself to an Opinion, that it was possible for a Lady to
distinguish him from other Men. Nor did he find any thing so unpleasing
in that Thought as might make him endeavour to repell it; the more he
consider’d his own Perfections, the more he was confirm’d in his Belief,
but who to fix it on, he was at a Loss as much as ever; then he began
to reflect on all the Discourse, and little Railleries that had pass’d
between him and the Ladies whom he had convers’d with since his Arrival,
but cou’d find nothing in any of ’em of Consequence enough to make him
guess at the Person: He spent great part of the Night in Thoughts very
different from those he was accustom’d to, the Joy which naturally rises
from the Knowledge ’tis in one’s Power to give it, gave him Notions which
till then he was a Stranger to; he began to consider a Mistress as an
agreeable, as well as fashionable Amusement, and resolv’d not to be Cruel.

In the mean time poor ALOVISA was in all the Anxiety imaginable, she
counted every Hour, and thought ’em Ages, and at the first dawn of Day
she rose, and calling up her Women, who were amaz’d to find her so
uneasy, she employ’d ’em in placing her Jewels on her Cloaths to the best
Advantage, while she consulted her Glass after what Manner she should
Dress, her Eyes, the gay; the languishing, the sedate, the commanding,
the beseeching Air, were put on a thousand times, and as often rejected;
and she had scarce determin’d which to make use of, when her Page brought
her Word, some Ladies who were going to Court desir’d her to accompany
them; she was too impatient not to be willing to be one of the first,
so went with them immediately, arm’d with all her Lightnings, but full
of unsettled Reflections. She had not been long in the Drawing Room,
before it grew very full of Company, but D’ELMONT not being amongst ’em,
she had her Eyes fix’d towards the Door, expecting every Moment to see
him enter; but how impossible is it to represent her Confusion, when he
appear’d, leading the young AMENA, Daughter to Monsieur _Sanseverin_, a
Gentleman, who tho’ he had a very small Estate, and many Children, had
by a partial Indulgence, too common among Parents, neglecting the rest,
maintain’d this Darling of his Heart in all the Pomp of Quality. The
Beauty and Sweetness of this Lady was present-Death to ALOVISA’s Hope’s;
she saw, or fancy’d she saw an usual Joy in her Eyes, and dying Love in
his; Disdain, Despair, and Jealousie at once crowded into her Heart, and
swell’d her almost to bursting; and ’twas no wonder that the violence of
such terrible Emotions kept her from regarding the Discourses of those
who stood by her, or the Devoirs that D’ELMONT made as he pass’d by, and
at length threw her into a Swoon; the Ladies ran to her assistance, and
her charming Rival, being one of her particular Acquaintance, shew’d an
extraordinary assiduity in applying Means for her Relief, they made what
hast they cou’d to get her into another Room, and unfasten her Robe,
but were a great while before they could bring her to herself; and when
they did, the Shame of having been so disorder’d in such an Assembly,
and the Fears of their suspecting the Occasion, added to her former
Agonies, had rack’d her with most terrible Revulsions, every one now
despairing of her being able to assist at that Night’s Entertainment, she
was put into her Chair, in order to be carry’d Home; AMENA who little
thought how unwelcome she was grown, would needs have one call’d, and
accompany’d her thither, in spight of the Intreaties of D’ELMONT, who had
before engag’d her for his Partner in Dancing; not that he was in Love
with her, or at that time believ’d he cou’d be touch’d with a Passion
which he esteem’d a Trifle in it self, and below the Dignity of a Man of
Sense; but Fortune (to whom this Lady no less enamour’d than ALOVISA)
had made a thousand Invocations, seem’d to have allotted her the glory
of his first Addresses; she was getting out of her Chariot just as he
alighted from his, and offering her his Hand, he perceiv’d hers trembled,
which engaging him to look upon her more earnestly than he was wont, he
immediately fancy’d he saw something of that languishment in her Eyes,
which the obliging Mandate had describ’d: AMENA was too lovely to make
that Belief disagreeable, and he resolv’d on the Beginnings of an Amour,
without giving himself the trouble of considering the Consequences; the
Evening being extreamly pleasant, he ask’d if she wou’d not favour him so
far as to take a turn or two within the Palace-Garden; She who desir’d
nothing more than such a particular Conversation, was not at all backward
of complying; he talk’d to her there for some time, in a manner as could
leave her no room to doubt he was entirely Charm’d, and ’twas the Air
such an Entertainment had left on both their Faces, as produc’d those sad
Effects in the jealous ALOVISA. She was no sooner led to her Apartment,
but she desir’d to be put to Bed, and the good natur’d AMENA, who really
had a very great kindness for her, offer’d to quit the Diversions of the
Ball, and stay with her all Night; but the unfortunate ALOVISA was not
in a Condition to endure the Presence of any, especially her, so put
her off as civilly as her Anxiety would give her leave, chusing rather
to suffer her to return to the Ball, than retain so hateful an Object
(as she was now become) in her sight; and ’tis likely the other was not
much troubled at her Refusal. But how, (when left alone, and abandon’d
to the whirlwinds of her Passion,) the desperate ALOVISA behav’d, none
but those, who like her, have burn’d in hopeless Fires can guess, the
most lively Description wou’d come far short of what she felt; she
rav’d, she tore her Hair and Face, and in the extremity of her Anguish
was ready to lay violent Hands on her own Life. In this Tempest of Mind,
she continu’d for some time, till at length rage beginning to dissipate
it self in Tears, made way for cooler Considerations; and her natural
Vanity resuming its Empire in her Soul, was of no little Service to
her on this Occasion. Why am I thus disturb’d? Mean Spirited as I am!
Said she, D’ELMONT is ignorant of the Sentiments I am possess’d with
in his favour; and perhaps ’tis only want of Incouragement that has so
long depriv’d me of my Lover; my Letter bore no certain Mark by which
he might distinguish me, and who knows what Arts that Creature might
make use of to allure him. I will therefore (persu’d she, with a more
cheerful Countenance) direct his erring Search. As she was in this
Thought (happily for her, who else might have relaps’d) her Women who
were waiting in the next Room, came in to know if she wanted any thing;
yes, answer’d she, with a Voice and Eyes wholly chang’d, I’ll rise, one
of you help me on with my Cloaths, and let the other send CHARLO to me,
I have instant Business with him. ’Twas in vain for ’em to represent to
her the Prejudice it might be to her Health to get out of her Bed at so
unseasonable an Hour, it being then just Midnight: They knew her too
absolute a Mistress not to be obey’d, and executed her Commands, without
disputing the Reason. She was no sooner ready, than CHARLO was introduc’d
who being the same Person that carry’d the Letter to D’ELMONT, guess’d
what Affair he was to be concern’d in, and shut the Door after him. I
commend your Caution, said his Lady, for what I am now going to trust you
with, is of more concernment than my Life. The Fellow bow’d, and made a
thousand Protestations of an eternal Fidelity. I doubt it not, resum’d
she, go then immediately to the _Court_, ’tis not impossible but in this
hurry you may get into the Drawing Room; but if not, make some pretence
to stay as near as you can ’till the Ball be over; listen carefully to
all Discourses where you hear COUNT D’ELMONT mention’d, enquire who he
Dances with, and above all, watch what Company he comes out with, and
bring me an exact Account. Go, continu’d she hastily, these are all the
Orders I have for you to Night, but to Morrow I shall employ you farther.
Then turning to her _Escritore_, she sat down, and began to prepare a
second Letter, which she hop’d wou’d be more lucky than the former. She
was not long writing, Love and Wit, suggested a World of passionate and
agreeable Expressions to her in a Moment: But when she had finish’d
this so full a Discovery of her Heart, and was about to sign her Name
to it; not all that Passion which had inspir’d her with a Resolution to
scruple nothing that might advance the compassing her Wishes, nor the
vanity which assur’d her of Success, were forcible enough to withstand
the shock it gave her Pride; No, let me rather die! Said she, (starting
up and frighted at her own Designs) than be guilty of a Meanness which
wou’d render me unworthy of Life, Oh Heavens! To offer Love, and poorly
sue for Pity! ’tis insupportable! What bewitch’d me to harbour such a
Thought as even the vilest of my Sex wou’d blush at? To pieces then
(added she, tearing the Paper) with this shameful Witness of my Folly,
my furious Desires may be the destruction of my Peace, but never of my
Honour, that shall still attend my Name when Love and Life are fled. She
continu’d in this Temper (without being able to compose herself to rest)
till Day began to appear, and CHARLO returned with News which confirmed
her most dreaded Suspicions. He told her that he had gain’d admittance to
the Drawing Room several Times, under pretence of delivering Messages to
some of the Ladies; that the whole Talk among ’em was, that D’ELMONT, was
no longer insensible of Beauty; that he observ’d that Gentleman in very
particular Conference with AMENA, and that he waited on her Home in his
Chariot, her own not being in the way, I know it, said ALOVISA (walking
about in a disorder’d Motion) I did not doubt but that I was undone, and
to my other Miseries, have that of being aiding to my Rival’s Happiness:
Whatever his Desires were, he carefully conceal’d ’em, till my cursed
Letter prompted a Discovery; tenacious as I was, and too, too confident
of this little Beauty! Here she stop’d, and wiping away some Tears which
in spight of her ran down her Cheeks, gave CHARLO leave to ask if she had
any more Commands for him. Yes (answer’d she) I will write once more to
this undiscerning Man, and let him know, ’tis not AMENA that is worthy of
him; that I may do without prejudicing my Fame, and ’twill be at least
some Easement to my Mind, to undeceive the Opinion he may have conceiv’d
of her Wit, for I am almost confident she passes for the Authoress of
those Lines which have been so fatal to me; in speaking this, without any
further Thought, she once more took her Pen, and wrote these Words.

    [Illustration]

    _To Count_ D’ELMONT.

    _If Ambition be a Fault, ’tis only in those who have not a
    sufficient stock of Merit to support it; too much Humility is a
    greater in you, whose Person and Qualities are too admirable,
    not to render any Attempt you shall make justifiable, as
    well as successful. Heaven when it distinguish’d you in so
    particular a Manner from the rest of Mankind, design’d you
    not for vulgar Conquests, and you cannot without a manifest
    Contradiction to its Will, and an irreparable Injury to your
    self, make a present of that Heart to AMENA, when one, of
    at least an equal Beauty, and far superior in every other
    Consideration, would Sacrifice all to purchase the glorious
    Trophy; continue then no longer in a wilful Ignorance, aim
    at a more exalted flight, and you will find it no difficulty
    to discover who she is that languishes, and almost dies for
    an Opportunity of confessing (without too great a breach of
    Modesty) that her Soul, and all the Faculties of it, are, and
    must be_,

                                                Eternally Yours.

This she gave to CHARLO, to deliver with the same Caution as the former;
but he was scarce got out of the House before a new Fear assaulted her,
and she repented her uncircumspection. What have I done, cry’d she! Who
knows but D’ELMONT may shew these Letters to AMENA, she is perfectly
acquainted with my Hand, and I shall be the most expos’d and wretched
Woman in the World. Thus Industrious was she in forming Notions to
Torment herself; nor indeed was there any thing of Improbability in
this Conjecture. There are too many ungenerous enough to boast such an
Adventure; but D’ELMONT tho’ he would have given good Part of his Estate
to satisfy his Curiosity, yet chose rather to remain in a perpetual
Ignorance, than make use of any Means that might be disadvantagious to
the Lady’s Reputation. He now perceiv’d his Mistake, and that it was
not AMENA who had taken that Method to engage him, and possibly was not
disgusted to find she had a Rival of such Merit, as the Letter intimated.
However, he had said too many fine Things to her to be lost, and thought
it as inconsistent with his Honour as his Inclination to desist a
Pursuit in which he had all the Reason in the World to assure himself of
Victory; for the young AMENA (little vers’d in the Art of Dissimulation,
so necessary to her Sex) cou’d not conceal the Pleasure she took in
his Addresses, and without even a seeming reluctancy, had given him a
Promise of meeting him the next Day in the _Tuilleries_; nor could all
his unknown Mistress had writ, perswade him to miss this Assignation, nor
let that be succeeded with another, and that by a third, and so on, ’till
by making a shew of Tenderness; he began to fancy himself really touch’d
with a Passion he only design’d to represent. ’Tis certain this way of
Fooling rais’d Desires in him little different from what is commonly
call’d Love; and made him redouble his Attacks in such a Manner, as AMENA
stood in need of all her Vertue to resist; but as much as she thought her
self oblig’d to resent such Attempts, yet he knew so well how to excuse
himself, and lay the Blame on the Violence of his Passion, that he was
still too Charming, and too Dear to her not to be forgiven. Thus was
AMENA (by her too generous and open Temper) brought to the very brink of
Ruin, and D’ELMONT was possibly contriving Means to compleat it, when her
Page brought him this Letter.

    [Illustration]

    To Count D’ELMONT.

    _Some Malicious Persons have endeavour’d to make the little
    Conversation I have had with you, appear as Criminal; therefore
    to put a stop to all such Aspersions, I must for the future
    deny my self the Honour of your Visits, unless Commanded to
    receive ’em by my Father, who only has the Power of disposing
    of_

                                                            AMENA.


The Consternation he was in at the reading these Lines, so very different
from her former Behaviour, is more easily imagin’d than express’d, ’till
casting his Eyes on the Ground, he saw a small Note, which in the opening
of this, had fallen out of it, which he hastily took up, and found it
contain’d these Words.

    _I guess the Surprize my lovely Friend is in, but have not time
    now to unriddle the Mystery: I beg you will be at your Lodgings
    towards the Evening, and I will invent a Way to send to you._

’Twas now that D’ELMONT began to find there were _Embarrassments_ in
an Intrigue of this Nature, which he had not foreseen, and stay’d at
Home all Day, impatiently expecting the clearing of an Affair, which at
present seem’d so ambiguous. When it grew a little Duskish, his Gentleman
brought in a Young Woman, whom he immediately knew to be: ANARET, an
Attendant on AMENA; and when he had made her sit down, told her he hop’d
she was come to make an _Eclaircissment_, which would be very obliging to
him, and therefore desir’d she wou’d not defer it.

My Lord, said she, ’tis with an unspeakable Trouble I discharge that
Trust my Lady has repos’d in me, in giving you a Relation of her
Misfortunes; but not to keep you longer in suspence, which I perceive
is uneasy to you; I shall acquaint you, that soon after you were gone,
my Lady came up into her Chamber, where, as I was preparing to undress
her, we heard Monsieur SANSEVERIN in an angry Tone ask where his Daughter
was, and being told she was above, we immediately saw him enter, with a
Countenance so inflam’d, as put us both in a mortal Apprehension. An ill
use (said he to her) have you made of my Indulgence, and the Liberty I
have allow’d you! Could neither the Considerations of the Honour of your
Family, your own Reputation, nor my eternal Repose, deter you from such
imprudent Actions, as you cannot be ignorant must be the inevitable Ruin
of ’em all. My poor Lady was too much surpriz’d at these cruel Words,
to be able to make any Answer to ’em, and stood trembling, and almost
fainting, while he went on with his Discourse. Was it consistent with the
Niceties of your Sex, said he, or with the Duty you owe me, to receive
the Addresses of a Person whose Pretensions I was a Stranger to? If the
Count D’ELMONT has any that are Honourable, wherefore are they conceal’d?
The Count D’ELMONT! (cry’d my Lady more frighted than before) never made
any Declarations to me worthy of your Knowledge, nor did I ever entertain
him otherwise, than might become your Daughter. ’Tis false (interrupted
he furiously) I am but too well inform’d of the contrary; nor has the
most private of your shameful Meetings escap’d my Ears! Judge, Sir,
in what a Confusion my Lady was in at this Discourse; ’twas in vain,
she muster’d all her Courage to perswade him from giving Credit to an
Intelligence so injurious to her; he grew the more enrag’d, and after a
thousand Reproaches, flung out of the Room with all the Marks of a most
violent Indignation, But tho’ your Lordship is too well acquainted with
the mildness of AMENA’S Disposition, not to believe she could bear the
Displeasure of a Father (who had always most tenderly lov’d her) with
indifference; yet ’tis impossible for you to imagine in what an excess of
Sorrow she was plung’d, she found every Passage of her ill Conduct (as
she was pleas’d to call it) was betray’d, and did not doubt but whoever
had done her that ill Office to her Father, wou’d take care the Discovery
should not be confin’d to him alone. Grief, Fear, Remorse, and Shame by
turns assaulted her, and made her incapable of Consolation; even the soft
Pleas of Love were silenc’d by their Tumultuous Clamours, and for a Time
she consider’d your Lordship in no other view than that of her Undoer.
How! cry’d D’ELMONT (interrupting her) cou’d my AMENA, who I thought
all sweetness, judge so harshly of me. Oh! my Lord, resum’d ANARET,
you must forgive those first Emotions, which as violent as they were,
wanted but your Presence to dissipate in a Moment; and if your Idea had
not presently that Power, it lost no Honour by having Foes to struggle
with, since at last it put ’em all to flight, and gain’d so entire a
Victory, that before Morning, of all her Troubles, scarce any but the
Fears of losing you remain’d. And I must take the Liberty to assure your
Lordship, my Endeavours were not wanting to establish a Resolution in her
to despise every thing for Love and you. But to be as brief as I can in
my Relation; the Night was no sooner gone, than Monsieur her Father came
into the Chamber, with a Countenance, tho’ more compos’d, than that with
which he left us, yet with such an Air of Austerity, as made my timerous
Lady lose most of the Spirit she had assum’d for this Encounter. I come
not now AMENA, said he, to upbraid or punish your Disobedience, if you
are not wholly abandon’d by your Reason, your own Reflections will be
sufficiently your Tormentors. But to put you in a way, (if not to clear
your Fame, yet to take away all Occasion of future Calumny,) you must
write to Count D’ELMONT.

I will have no denials continu’d he, (seeing her about to speak) and
leading her to her Escritore, constrain’d her to write what he dictated,
and you receiv’d; just as she was going to Seal it, a Servant brought
word that a Gentleman desir’d to speak with Monsieur SANSEVERIN, he
was oblig’d to step into another Room, and that absence gave her an
Opportunity of writing a Note, which she dextrously slip’d into the
Letter, unperceiv’d by her Father at his return, who little suspecting
what she had done, sent it away immediately. Now, said he, we shall
be able to judge of the sincerity of the Count’s Affections, but till
then I shall take care to prove my self a Person not disinterested in
the Honour of my Family. As he spoke these Words, he took her by the
Hand, and conducting her, thro’ his own, into a little Chamber (which
he had order’d to be made ready for that purpose) shut her into it; I
follow’d to the Door, and seconded my Lady in her Desires, that I might
be permitted to attend her there; but all in vain, he told me, he doubted
not but that I had been her Confident in this Affair, and ordered me
to quit his House in a few Days. As soon as he was gone out, I went
into the Garden, and saunter’d up and down a good while, hoping to get
an Opportunity of speaking to my Lady through the Window, for I knew
there was one that look’d into it; but not seeing her, I bethought me of
getting a little Stick, with which I knock’d gently against the Glass,
and engag’d her to open it. As soon as she perceiv’d me, a Beam of Joy
brighten’d in her Eyes, and glisten’d tho’ her Tears. Dear ANARET, said
she, how kindly do I take this proof of thy Affection, ’tis only in thy
Power to alleviate my Misfortunes, and thou I know art come to offer thy
Assistance. Then after I had assur’d her of my willingness to serve her
in any command, she desir’d me to wait on you with an Account of all that
had happen’d, and to give you her Vows of an eternal Love. My Eyes, said
she weeping, perhaps may ne’er behold him more, but Imagination shall
supply that want, and from my Heart he never shall be Absent. Oh! do not
talk thus, cry’d the Count, extreamly touch’d at this Discourse. I must,
I will see her, nothing shall hold her from me. You may, answer’d ANARET,
but then it must be with the Approbation of Monsieur SANSEVERIN, he will
be proud to receive you in Quality of a Suitor to his Daughter, and ’tis
only to oblige you to a publick Declaration that he takes these Measures.
D’ELMONT was not perfectly pleas’d with these Words: he was too quick
sighted not to perceive immediately what Monsieur SANSEVERIN drove at,
but as well as he lik’d AMENA, found no inclination in himself to Marry
her; and therefore was not desirous of an Explanation of what he resolv’d
not to seem to understand. He walk’d two or three turns about the Room,
endeavouring to conceal his Disgust, and when he had so well overcome
the shock, as to banish all visible Tokens of it, I would willingly said
he coldly, come in to any proper Method for the obtaining the Person of
AMENA, as well as her Heart; but there are certain Reasons for which I
cannot make a Discovery of my Designs to her Father, ’till I have first
spoken with her. My Lord, reply’d the subtle ANARET (easily guessing at
his Meaning) I wish to Heaven there were a possibility of your Meeting;
there is nothing I would not risque to forward it, and if your Lordship
can think of any way in which I may be serviceable to you, in this short
Time I am allow’d to stay in the Family, I beg you would command me. She
spoke this with an Air which made the Count believe she really had it in
her Power to serve him in this Occasion, and presently hit on the surest
Means to bind her to his Interest. You are very obliging, said he, and
I doubt not but your Ingenuity is equal to your good Nature, therefore
will leave the Contrivance of my happiness entirely to you, and that you
may not think your Care bestow’d on an ungrateful Person, be pleas’d
(continu’d he, giving her a Purse of _Lewis-Dor_’s) to accept this small
Earnest of my future Friendship. ANARET, like most of her Function, was
too mercinary to resist such a Temptation, tho’ it had been given her to
betray the Honour of her whole Sex; and after a little pause, reply’d,
Your Lordship is too generous to be refus’d, tho’ in a Matter of the
greatest Difficulty, as indeed this is; for in the strict Confinement
my Lady is, I know no way but one, and that extreamly hazardous to her;
however, I do not fear but my Perswasions, joyn’d with her own Desires,
will influence her to attempt it. Your Lordship knows we have a little
Door at the farther End of the Garden, that opens into the _Tuillerys_. I
do, cry’d D’ELMONT interrupting her. I have several times parted from my
Charmer there, when my Entreaties have prevail’d with her to stay longer
with me than she wou’d have the Family to take notice of. I hope to order
the Matter so, resum’d ANARET, that it shall be the Scene this Night of a
most happy Meeting. My Lady unknown to her Father, has the Key of it, she
can throw it to me from her Window, and I can open it to you, who must be
walking near it, about Twelve or One a Clock, for by that time every body
will be in Bed. But what will that avail, cry’d D’ELMONT hastily; since
she lies in her Father’s Chamber, where ’tis impossible to pass Without
alarming him. You Lovers are so impatient rejoyn’d ANARET smiling, I
never design’d you should have Entrance there, tho’ the Window is so low,
that a Person of your Lordship’s Stature and Agility might mount it with
a Galliard step, but I suppose it will turn to as good an Account, if
your Mistress by my Assistance stets out of it. But can she, interrupted
he; will she, dost thou think? Fear not, my Lord, reply’d she, be but
punctual to the Hour, AMENA, shall be yours, if Love, Wit and Opportunity
have power to make her so. D’ELMONT was transported with this Promise,
and the Thoughts of what he expected to possess by her Means, rais’d
his Imagination to so high a pitch, as he cou’d not forbear kissing and
embracing her with such Raptures, as might not have been very pleasing
to AMENA, had she been witness of ’em. But ANARET who had other things in
her Head than Gallantry, disengag’d her self from him as soon she cou’d,
taking more Satisfaction in forwarding an Affair in which she propos’d so
much Advantage, than in the Caresses of the most accomplish’d Gentleman
in the World.

When she came Home, she found every thing as she cou’d wish, MONSIEUR
Abroad, and his Daughter at the Window, impatiently watching her
return, she told her as much of the Discourse she had with the COUNT
as she thought proper, extolling his Love and Constancy, and carefully
concealing all she thought might give an umbrage to her Vertue. But
in spight of all the Artifice she made use of, she found it no easie
Matter to perswade her to get out of the Window; the fears she had of
being discover’d, and more expos’d to her Father’s Indignation, and the
Censure of the World, damp’d her Inclinations, and made her deaf to the
eager Solicitations of this unfaithful Woman. As they were Disputing,
some of the Servants happ’ning to come into the Garden, oblig’d ’em to
break off; and ANARET retir’d, not totally dispairing of compassing her
Designs, when the appointed Hour should arrive, and AMENA should know the
darling Object of her Wishes was so near. Nor did her Hopes deceive her,
the Resolutions of a Lover, when made against the Interest of the Person
belov’d, are but of a short duration; and this unhappy Fair was no sooner
left alone, and had leisure to Contemplate on the Graces of the Charming
D’ELMONT, but Love plaid his part with such Success, as made her repent
she had chid ANARET for her Proposal, and wish’d for nothing more than an
Opportunity to tell her so. She pass’d several Hours in Disquietudes she
had never known before, till at last she heard her Father come into the
next Room to go to Bed, and soon after some Body knock’d softly at the
Window, she immediately open’d it, and perceiv’d by the Light of the Moon
which then shone very bright, that it was ANARET, she had not Patience
to listen to the long Speech the other had prepar’d to perswade her,
but putting her Head as far as she could, to prevent being heard by her
Father. Well ANARET, said she, where is this Adventrous Lover, what is it
he requires of me? Oh! Madam, reply’d she, overjoy’d at the compliable
Humour she found her in, he is now at the Garden Door, there’s nothing
wanting but your Key to give him Entrance; what farther he requests,
himself shall tell you. Oh Heavens! cry’d AMENA, searching her Pockets,
and finding she had it not; I am undone, I have left it in my Cabinet in
the Chamber where I us’d to lie. These Words made ANARET at her Wits end,
she knew there was no possibility of fetching it, there being so many
Rooms to go thro’, she ran to the Door, and endeavour’d to push back the
Lock, but had not Strength; she then knew not what to do, she was sure
D’ELMONT was on the other side, and fear’d he would resent this usage
to the disappointment of all her mercenary Hopes, and durst not call to
acquaint him with his Misfortune for fear of being heard. As for AMENA,
she was now more sensible than ever of the violence of her Inclinations,
by the extream vexation this Disappointment gave her: Never did People
pass a Night in greater uneasiness, than these three; the _Count_ who was
naturally impatient, could not bear a balk of this nature without the
utmost chagrin. AMENA languish’d, and ANARET fretted to Death, tho’ she
resolv’d to leave no Stone unturn’d to set all right again. Early in the
Morning she went to his Lodgings, and found him in a very ill Humour,
but she easily pacify’d him, by representing with a great deal of real
Grief, the Accident that retarded his Happiness, and assuring him there
was nothing cou’d hinder the fulfilling it the next Night. When she had
gain’d this Point, she came Home and got the Key into her possession,
but could not find an opportunity all Day of speaking to her Lady,
Monsieur SANSEVERIN did not stir out of Doors, and spent most of it with
his Daughter; in his Discourse to her, he set the Passion the COUNT had
for her in so true a light, that it made a very great alteration in her
Sentiments; and she began to reflect on the Condescensions she had given
a Man, who had never so much as mention’d Marriage to her, with so much
shame, as almost overwhelm’d her Love, and she was now determin’d never
to see him, till he should declare himself to her Father in such a manner
as would be for her Honour.

In the mean time ANARET waited with a great deal of Impatience for the
Family going to Bed; and as soon as all was hush, ran to give the COUNT
Admittance; and leaving him in an ALLEY on the farther side of the
Garden, made the accustom’d Sign at the Window. AMENA presently open’d
it, but instead of staying to hear what she would say, threw a Letter
out, Carry that, said she, to COUNT D’ELMONT, let him know the Contents
of it are wholly the result of my own Reason. And as for your part, I
charge you trouble me no farther on this Subject; then shutting the
Casement hastily, left ANARET in a strange Consternation at this suddain
Change of her Humour; however she made no delay, but running to the Place
where the COUNT waited her return, deliver’d him the Letter, but advis’d
him (who was ready enough of himself) not to obey any Commands might be
given him to the hindrance of his Designs. The Moon was then at the full,
and gave so clear a Light, that he easily found it contain’d these Words.

    [Illustration]

    _To Count_ D’ELMONT.

    _Too many Proofs have I given you of my weakness not to make
    you think me incapable of forming or keeping any Resolution
    to the Prejudice of that Passion you have inspir’d me with:
    But know, thou undoer of my Quiet, tho’ I have Lov’d and
    still do Love you with a Tenderness, which I fear will be
    Unvanquishable; yet I will rather suffer my Life, than my
    Virtue to become its Prey. Press me then no more I conjure you,
    to such dangerous Interviews, in which I dare neither Trust
    my Self, nor You, if you believe me worthy your real Regard,
    the way thro’ Honour is open to receive You; Religion, Reason,
    Modesty, and Obedience forbid the rest._

                                                          Farewel.


D’ELMONT knew the Power he had over her too well, to be much discourag’d
at what he read, and after a little consultation with ANARET, they
concluded he should go to speak to her, as being the best Sollicitor
in his own Cause. As he came down the Walk, AMENA saw him thro’ the
Glass, and the sight of that beloved Object, bringing a thousand past
Endearments to her Memory, made her incapable of retiring from the
Window, and she remain’d in a languishing and immoveable Posture, leaning
her Head against the Shutter, ’till he drew near enough to discern she
saw him. He took this for no ill Omen, and instead of falling on his
Knees at an humble Distance, as some Romantick Lovers would have done,
redoubled his Pace, and Love and Fortune which on this Occasion were
resolv’d to befriend him, presented to his View a large Rolling-Stone
which the Gardiner had accidentally left there; the Iron-work that held
it was very high, and strong enough to bear a much greater weight than
his, so he made no more to do, but getting on the top of it, was almost
to the Waste above the bottom of the Casement. This was a strange Trial,
for had she been less in Love, good Manners would have oblig’d her to
open it; however she retain’d so much of her former Resolution, as to
conjure him to be gone, and not expose her to such Hazards; that if her
Father should come to know she held any clandestine Correspondence with
him, after the Commands he had given her, she were utterly undone, and
that he never must expect any Condescensions from her, without being
first allow’d by him. D’ELMONT, tho’ he was a little startled to find her
so much more Mistress of her Temper than he believ’d she could be, yet
resolv’d to make all possible use of this Opportunity, which probably
might be the last he shou’d ever have, look’d on her as she spoke,
with Eyes so piercing, so sparkling with Desire, accompany’d with so
bewitching softness, as might have thaw’d the most frozen reservedness,
and on the melting Soul stamp’d Love’s Impression. ’Tis certain they were
too irresistable to be long withstood, and putting an end to AMENA’S
grave Remonstrances, gave him leave to reply to ’em in this manner. Why
my Life, my Angel, said he, my everlasting Treasure of my Soul, shou’d
these Objections now be rais’d? How can you say you have given me your
Heart? Nay, own you think me worthy that inestimable Jewel, yet dare
not trust your Person with me a few Hours: What have you to fear from
your adoring Slave? I want but to convince you how much I am so, by a
thousand yet uninvented Vows. They may be spar’d, cry’d AMENA, hastily
interrupting him, one Declaration to my Father, is all the Proof that he
or I demands of your Sincerity. Oh! Thou Inhuman and Tyrannick Charmer,
answer’d he, (seizing her Hand, and eagerly kissing it) I doubt not
but your faithful ANARET has told you, that I could not without the
highest Imprudence, presently discover the Passion I have for you to the
World. I have, my Lord, said that cunning Wench who stood near him, and
that ’twas only to acquaint her with the Reasons why, for some Time,
you would have it a Secret, that you much desir’d to speak with her.
Besides (rejoyn’d the COUNT) consider my Angel how much more hazardous
it is for you to hold Discourse with me here, than at a farther distance
from your Father; your denying to go with me is the only way to make
your Fears prove true; his jealousie of you may possibly make him more
watchful than ordinary, and we are not sure but that this Minute he may
tear you from my Arms; whereas if you suffer me to bear you hence, if
he should happen to come even to your Door, and hear no noise, he will
believe you sleeping, and return to his Bed well satisfy’d. With these
and the like Arguments she was at last overcome, and with the assistance
of ANARET, he easily lifted her down. But this rash Action, so contrary
to the Resolution she thought herself a few moments before so fix’d in,
made such a confusion in her Mind, as render’d her insensible for some
Time of all he said to her. They made what haste they could into the
_Tuilleries_, and D’ELMONT having plac’d her on one of the most pleasant
Seats, was resolv’d to loose no time; and having given her some Reasons
for his not addressing to her Father, which tho’ weak in themselves, were
easily believ’d by a Heart so willing to be deceiv’d as hers, he began
to press for a greater confirmation of her Affection than Words; and
’twas now this inconsiderate Lady found herself in the greatest Strait
she had ever yet been in; all Nature seem’d to favour his Design, the
pleasantness of the Place, the silence of the Night, the sweetness of the
Air, perfum’d with a thousand various Odours, wafted by gentle Breezes
from adjacent Gardens, compleated the most delightful Scene that ever
was, to offer up a Sacrifice to Love; not a breath but flew wing’d with
desire, and sent soft thrilling Wishes to the Soul; CYNTHIA herself, cold
as she is reported, assisted in the Inspiration, and sometimes shone with
all her brightness, as it were to feast their ravish’d Eyes with gazing
on each others Beauty; then veil’d her Beams in Clouds, to give the
Lover boldness, and hide the Virgins blushes. What now could poor AMENA
do, surrounded with so many Powers, attack’d by such a charming Force
without, betray’d by tenderness within: Virtue and Pride, the Guardians
of her Honour, fled from her Breast, and left her to her Foe, only a
modest Bashfulness remain’d, which for a time made some Defence, but with
such weakness as a Lover less impatient than D’ELMONT, would have little
regarded. The heat of the Weather, and her Confinement having hindred her
from dressing that Day; she had only a thin silk Night Gown on, which
flying open as he caught her in his Arms, he found her panting-Heart
beat measures of Consent, her heaving Breast swell to be press’d by his,
and every Pulse confess a wish to yeild; her Spirits all dissolv’d, sunk
in a Lethargy of Love; her snowy Arms, unknowing, grasp’d his Neck, her
Lips met his half way, and trembled at the touch; in fine, there was
but a Moment betwixt her and Ruin; when the tread of some Body coming
hastily down the Walk, oblig’d the half-bless’d Pair to put a stop to
farther Endearments. It was ANARET, who having been left Centinel in
the Garden, in order to open the Door when her Lady should return, had
seen Lights in every Room in the House, and heard great Confusion, so
ran immediately to give ’em notice of this Misfortune. These dreadful
Tidings soon rous’d AMENA from her Dream of Happiness, she accus’d the
influence of her Amorous Stars, upbraided ANARET, and blam’d the Count
in Terms little differing from distraction, and ’twas as much as both of
’em could do to perswade her to be calm. However, ’twas concluded that
ANARET should go back to the House, and return to ’em again, as soon as
she had learn’d what accident had occasion’d this Disturbance. The Lovers
had now a second Opportunity, if either of ’em had been inclin’d to make
use of it, but their Sentiments were entirely chang’d with this Alarm;
AMENA’s Thoughts were wholly taken up with her approaching Shame, and
vow’d she wou’d rather die than ever come in to her Father’s Presence, if
it were true that she was miss’d; the Count, who wanted not good Nature,
seriously reflecting on the Misfortunes he was likely to bring on a young
Lady, who tenderly lov’d him, gave him a great deal of real Remorse,
and the Consideration that he should be necessitated, either to own an
injurious Design, or come into Measures for the clearing of it, which
would in no way agree with his Ambition, made him extreamly pensive, and
wish AMENA again in her Chamber, more earnestly than ever he had done, to
get her out of it; they both remain’d in a profound Silence, impatiently
waiting the approach of ANARET; but she not coming as they expected, and
the Night wearing away apace, very much encreas’d the Trouble they were
in; at length the Count, after revolving a thousand Inventions in his
Mind, advis’d to walk toward the Garden, and see whether the Door was yet
open. ’Tis better for you, Madam, said he, whatsoever has happen’d, to
be found in your own Garden, than in any Place with me. AMENA comply’d,
and suffer’d herself to be led thither, trembling, and ready to sink
with Fear and Grief at every Step; but when they found all fast, and
that there was no hopes of getting Entrance, she fell quite senseless,
and without any signs of Life, at her Lover’s Feet; he was strangely at
a loss what to do with her, and made a thousand Vows if he got clear of
this Adventure, never to embark in another of this Nature; he was little
skill’d in proper Means to recover her, and ’twas more to her Youth and
the goodness of her Constitution that she ow’d the Return of her Senses,
than his awkard Endeavours; when she reviv’d, the piteous Lamentations
she made, and the perplexity he was in how to dispose of her, was very
near reducing him to as bad a Condition as she had been in; he never till
now having had occasion for a Confident, render’d him so unhappy as not
to know any one Person at whose House he cou’d, with any Convenience,
trust her, and to carry her to that where he had Lodgings, was the way to
be made the talk of all _Paris_. He ask’d her several times if she would
not command him to wait on her to some Place where she might remain free
from Censure, till she heard from her Father, but cou’d get no Answer but
upbraidings from her. So making a Virtue of Necessity, he was oblig’d to
take her in his Arms, with a design to bring her (tho’ much against his
Inclinations) to his own Apartment: As he was going thro’ a very fair
Street which led to that in which he liv’d, AMENA cry’d out with a sort
of Joy, loose me, my Lord, I see a Light in yonder House, the Lady of
it is my dearest Friend, she has power with my Father, and if I beg her
Protection, I doubt not but she will afford it me, and perhaps find some
way to mitigate my Misfortunes; the _Count_ was overjoy’d to be eas’d
of his fair Burthen, and setting her down at the Gate, was preparing
to take his leave with an indifference, which was but too visible to
the afflicted Lady. I see, my Lord, said she, the pleasure you take in
getting rid of me, exceeds the trouble for the Ruin you have brought upon
me; but go, I hope I shall resent this Usage as I ought, and that I may
be the better enabled to do so, I desire you to return the Letter I writ
this fatal Night, the Resolution it contain’d will serve to remind me of
my shameful Breach of it.

Madam (answer’d he coldly, but with great Complaisance) you have said
enough to make a Lover less obedient, refuse; but because I am sensible
of the Accidents that happen to Letters, and to shew that I can never
be repugnant even to the most rigorous of your Commands, I shall make
no scruple in fulfilling this, and trust to your Goodness for the
re-settling me in your Esteem, when next you make me so happy as to see
you. The formality of this Compliment touch’d her to the Quick, and the
thought of what she was like to suffer on his account, fill’d her with
so just an Anger, that as soon as she got the Letter, she knock’d hastily
at the Gate, which being immediately open’d, broke off any further
Discourse, she went in, and he departed to his Lodging, ruminating on
every Circumstance of this Affair, and consulting with himself how he
shou’d proceed. ALOVISA (for it was her House which AMENA by a whimsical
effect of Chance had made choice of for her Sanctuary) was no sooner told
her Rival was come to speak with her, but she fell into all the Raptures
that successful Malice could inspire, she was already inform’d of part of
this Night’s Adventure; for the cunning CHARLO who by her Orders had been
a diligent Spy on Count D’ELMONT’S Actions, and as constant an Attendant
on him as his shadow, had watch’d him to Monsieur SANSEVERIN’S Garden,
seen him enter, and afterwards come with AMENA into the _Tuilleries_;
where perceiving ’em Seated, ran Home, and brought his Lady an Account;
Rage, Jealousie and Envy working their usual Effects in her; at this
News, made her promise the Fellow infinite Rewards if he would invent
some Stratagem to separate ’em, which he undertaking to do, occasion’d
her being up so late, impatiently waiting his return; she went down to
receive her with great Civility, mix’d with a feign’d surprize to see
her at such an Hour, and in such a Dishabilee; which the other answering
ingeniously, and freely letting her into the whole Secret, not only of
her Amour, but the coldness she observ’d in D’ELMONT’S Behaviour at
parting, fill’d this cruel Woman with so exquisite a Joy, as she was
hardly capable of dissembling; therefore to get liberty to indulge it,
and to learn the rest of the particulars of CHARLO, who she heard was
come in, she told AMENA she would have her go to Bed, and endeavour to
compose her self, and that she would send for Monsieur SANSEVERIN in
the Morning, and endeavour to reconcile him to her. I will also added
she, with a deceitful smile, see the Count D’ELMONT, and talk to him
in a manner as shall make him truly sensible of his Happiness; nay,
so far my Friendship shall extend, that if there be any real Cause for
making your Amour a Secret, he shall see you at my House, and pass for
a Visitor of mine; I have no body to whom I need be accountable for
my Actions and am above the Censures of the World. AMENA, thank’d her
in Terms full of gratitude, and went with the Maid, whom ALOVISA had
order’d to conduct her to a Chamber prepar’d for her; as soon as she
had got rid of her, she call’d for CHARLO, impatient to hear by what
contrivance this lucky Chance had befallen her. Madam, said, he, tho’ I
form’d a thousand Inventions, I found not any so plausible, as to alarm
Monsieur SANSEVERIN’S Family, with an out-cry of Fire. Therefore I rang
the Bell at the fore-gate of the House, and bellow’d in the most terrible
accent I could possible turn my Voice to, Fire, Fire, rise, or you will
all be burnt in your Beds. I had not repeated this many times, before
I found the Effect I wish’d; the Noises I heard, and the Lights I saw
in the Rooms, assur’d me there were no Sleepers left; then I ran to the
_Tuilleries_, designing to observe the Lover’s proceedings, but I found
they were appriz’d of the Danger they were in, of being discover’d, and
were coming to endeavour an entrance into the Garden. I know the rest,
interrupted ALOVISA, the Event has answer’d even beyond my Wishes, and
thy Reward for this good Service shall be greater than thy Expectations.
As she said these Words she retir’d to her Chamber, more satisfy’d than
she had been for many Months. Quite different did poor AMENA pass the
Night, for besides the grief of having disoblig’d her Father, banish’d
her self his House, and expos’d her Reputation to the unavoidable
Censures of the unpitying World; for an ungrateful, or at best an
indifferent Lover. She receiv’d a vast addition of Afflictions, when
taking out the Letter which D’ELMONT had given her at parting, possible
to weep over it; and accuse her self for so inconsiderately breaking
the noble Resolution she had form’d, when it was writ. She found it was
ALOVISA’S Hand, for the _Count_ by mistake had given her the second he
receiv’d from that Lady, instead of that she desir’d him to return. Never
was Surprize, Confusion, and Dispair at such a height, as in AMENA’S Soul
at this Discovery; she was now assur’d by what she read, that she had
fled for Protection to the very Person she ought most to have avoided;
that she had made a Confident of her greatest Enemy, a Rival dangerous
to her Hopes in every Circumstance. She consider’d the High Birth and
vast Possessions that ALOVISA was Mistress of in opposition to her
Father’s scanted Power of making her a Fortune. Her Wit and Subtilty
against her Innocence and Simplicity: her Pride, and the respect her
grandeur commanded from the World, against her own deplor’d and wretch’d
State, and look’d upon her self as wholly lost. The violence of her
Sorrow is more easily imagin’d than express’d; but of all her melancholy
Reflections, none rack’d her equal to the belief she had that D’ELMONT
was not unsensible by this time whom the Letter came from, and had only
made a Court to her to amuse himself a while, and then suffer her to fall
a Sacrifice to his Ambition, and feed the Vanity of her Rival; a just
Indignation now open’d the Eyes of her Understanding, and considering
all the Passages of the _Count_’s Behaviour, she saw a thousand Things
which told her, his Designs on her were far unworthy of the Name of
Love. None that were ever touch’d with the least of those Passions which
agitated the Soul of AMENA, can believe they would permit Sleep to enter
her Eyes: But if Grief and Distraction kept her from repose; ALOVISA
had too much Business on her Hands to enjoy much more; She had promis’d
AMENA to send for her Father, and the _Count_, and found there were not
too many Moments before Morning, to contrive so many different forms of
Behaviour, as should deceive ’em all three, compleat the Ruin of her
Rival, and engage the Addresses of her Lover; as soon as she thought it
a proper Hour, she dispatch’d a Messenger to Count D’ELMONT, and another
to Monsieur SANSEVERIN, who full of Sorrow as he was, immediately obey’d
her Summons. She receiv’d him in her Dressing-room, and with a great deal
of feign’d Trouble in her Countenance, accosted him in this manner. How
hard is it, said she, to dissemble Grief, and in spite of all the Care,
which I doubt not you have taken to conceal it, in consideration of your
own, and Daughter’s Honour, I too plainly perceive it in your Face to
imagine that my own is hid: How, Madam, cry’d the impatient Father, (then
giving a loose to his Tears) are you acquainted then with my Misfortune?
Alas, answer’d she, I fear by the Consequences you have been the last to
whom it has been reveal’d. I hop’d that my Advice, and the daily Proofs
the _Count_ gave your Daughter of the little regard he had for her, might
have fir’d her to a generous Disdain, and have a thousand Pardons to ask
of you for Breach of Friendship, in concealing an Affair so requisite
you should have known: Oh! Madam resum’d he, interrupting her, I conjure
you make no Apologies for what is past, I know too well the greatness
of your goodness, and the favour you have always been pleas’d to Honour
her with; not to be assur’d she was happy in your Esteem, and only beg
I may no longer be kept in Ignorance of the fatal Secret. You shall be
inform’d of all, said she, but then you must promise me to Act by my
Advice; which he having promis’d, she told him after what manner AMENA
came to her House, the coldness the _Count_ express’d to her, and the
violence of her Passion for him. Now, said she, if you should suffer
your rage to break out in any publick Manner against the _Count_, it
will only serve to make your Daughter’s Dishonour the Table-Talk of
all _Paris_. He is too great at Court, and has too many Friends to be
compell’d to any Terms for your Satisfaction; besides, the least noise
might make him discover by what means he first became acquainted with
her, and her excessive, I will not say troublesome fondness of him,
since; which should he do, the shame wou’d be wholly her’s, for few wou’d
condemn him for accepting the offer’d Caresses of a Lady so young and
beautiful as AMENA. But is it possible, cry’d he (quite confounded at
these Words) that she should stoop so low to offer Love. Oh Heavens! Is
this the Effect of all my Prayers, my Care, and my Indulgence. Doubt not,
resum’d ALOVISA, of the Truth of what I say, I have it from herself, and
to convince you it is so, I shall inform you of something I had forgot
before. Then she told him of the Note she had slip’d into the Letter he
had forc’d her to write, and of sending ANARET to his Lodgings, which
she heighten’d with all the aggravating Circumstances her Wit and Malice
cou’d suggest; till the old Man believing all she said as an Oracle, was
almost senseless between Grief and Anger; but the latter growing rather
the most predominant, he vow’d to punish her in such a manner as should
deter all Children from Disobedience. Now, said ALOVISA, it is, that I
expect the performance of your Promise; these threats avail but little to
the retrieving your Daughter’s Reputation, or your quiet; be therefore
perswaded to make no Words of it, compose your Countenance as much as
possible to serenity, and think if you have no Friend in any Monastry
where you could send her till this Discourse, and her own foolish Folly
be blown over. If you have not, I can recommend you to one at _St._
DENNIS where the Abbess is my near Relation, and on my Letter will use
her with all imaginable Tenderness. Monsieur was extreamly pleas’d at
this Proposal, and gave her those thanks the seeming kindness of her
offer deserv’d. I would not, resum’d she, have you take her Home, or
see her before she goes; or if you do, not till all things are ready
for her Departure, for I know she will be prodigal of her _Promises_
of Amendment, ’till she has prevail’d with your Fatherly Indulgence
to permit her stay at _Paris_, and know as well she will not have the
Power to _keep_ ’em in the same Town with the _Count_. She shall, if
you please, remain conceal’d in my House, ’till you have provided for
her Journey, and it will be a great Means to put a stop to any farther
Reflections the malicious may make on her; if you give out she is
already gone to some Relations in the Country. As she was speaking,
CHARLO came to acquaint her, one was come to visit her. She made no doubt
but ’twas D’ELMONT, therefore hasten’d away Monsieur SANSEVERIN, after
having fix’d him in a Resolution to do every thing as she advis’d. It was
indeed Count D’ELMONT that was come, which as soon as she was assur’d of,
she threw off her dejected and mournful Air, and assum’d one all Gaiety
and good Humour, dimpl’d her Mouth with Smiles, and call’d the laughing
Cupids to her Eyes.

My Lord, said she, you do well by this early visit to retrieve your Sexes
drooping fame of Constancy, and prove the nicety of AMENA’S discernment,
in conferring favours on a Person, who to his excellent Qualifications,
has that of assiduity to deserve them; as he was about to reply, the
rush of somebody coming hastily down the Stairs which faced the Room
they were in, oblig’d ’em to turn that way. It was the unfortunate
AMENA, who not being able to endure the Thoughts of staying in her
Rivals House, distracted with her Griefs, and not regarding what should
become of her, as soon as she heard the Doors were open, was preparing
to fly from that detested Place. ALOVISA was vex’d to the Heart at the
sight of her, hoping to have had some Discourse with the _Count_ before
they met; but she dissembled it, and catching hold of her as she was
endeavouring to pass, ask’d where she was going, and what occasion’d the
Disorder she observ’d in her. I go, (answer’d AMENA) from a false Lover,
and a falser Friend, but why shou’d I upbraid you (continu’d she looking
wildly sometimes on the _Count_, and sometimes on ALOVISA) Treacherous
Pair, you know too well each others Baseness, and my Wrongs; no longer
then, detain a Wretch whose Presence, had you the least Sense of
Honour, Gratitude, or even common Humanity, wou’d fill your Consciences
with Remorse and Shame; and who has now no other wish, than that of
shunning you for ever. As she spoke this, she struggled to get loose
from ALOVISA’S Arms, who, in spite of the Amazement she was in, still
held her. D’ELMONT was no less confounded, and intirely ignorant of the
Meaning of what he heard, was at a loss how to reply, ’till she resum’d
her reproaches in this manner: Why, ye Monsters of barbarity, said she,
do you delight in beholding the Ruins you have made? Is not the knowledge
of my Miseries, my everlasting Miseries, sufficient to content you? And
must I be debarr’d that only Remedy for Woes like mine? Death! Oh cruel
Return for all my Love, my Friendship! and the confidence I repos’d in
you. Oh! to what am I reduc’d by my too soft and easie Nature, hard fate
of tenderness, which healing others, only wounds it’s self.-----Just
Heavens!------here she stopp’d, the violence of her Resentment,
endeavouring to vent it self in sighs, rose in her Breast with such an
impetuosity as choak’d the Passage of her Words, and she fell in a Swoon.
Tho’ the _Count_, and ALOVISA were both in the greatest Consternation
imaginable, yet neither of ’em were negligent in trying to Recover her;
as they were busi’d about her, that fatal Letter which had been the Cause
of this Disturbance, fell out of her Bosom, and both being eager to take
it up (believing it might make some discovery) had their Hands on it at
the same time; it was but slightly folded, and immediately shew’d ’em
from what source AMENA’S despair proceeded: Her upbraidings of ALOVISA,
and the Blushes and Confusion which he observed in that Ladies Face, as
soon as ever she saw it open’d, put an end to the Mistery, and one less
quick of Apprehension than D’ELMONT, wou’d have made no difficulty in
finding his unknown Admirer in the Person of ALOVISA: She, to conceal
the Disorder she was in at this Adventure as much as possible, call’d
her Women, and order’d ’em to Convey AMENA into another Chamber where
there was more Air; as she was preparing to follow, turning a little
towards the _Count_. but still extreamly confus’d, you’ll Pardon, me, my
Lord, said she, if my concern for my Friend obliges me to leave you. Ah
Madam, reply’d he, forbear to make any Apologies to me, rather Summon
all your goodness to forgive a Wretch so blind to happiness as I have
been: She either cou’d not, or wou’d not make any answer to these Words,
but seeming as tho’ she heard ’em not, went hastily into the Room where
AMENA was, leaving the _Count_ full of various and confus’d Reflections;
the sweetness of his Disposition made him regret his being the Author
of AMENA’S Misfortunes, but how miserable is that Woman’s Condition,
who by her Mismanagement is reduc’d to so poor a Comfort as the pity of
her Lover; that Sex is generally too Gay to continue long uneasy, and
there was little likelihood he cou’d be capable of lamenting Ills, which
his small Acquaintance with the Passion from which they sprung, made
him not comprehend. The pleasure the Discovery gave him of a Secret he
had so long desir’d to find out, kept him from being too much concern’d
at the Adventure that occasion’d it; but he could not forbear accusing
himself of intollerable Stupidity, when he consider’d the Passages of
ALOVISA’S Behaviour, her swooning at the Ball, her constant Glances, her
frequent Blushes when he talk’d to her, and all his Cogitations whether
on ALOVISA, or AMENA, were mingled with a wonder that Love should have
such Power. The diversity of his Thoughts wou’d have entertain’d him much
longer, if they had not been interrupted by his Page, who came in a great
hurry, to acquaint him, that his Brother, the young Chevalier BRILLIAN
was just come to Town, and waited with Impatience for his coming Home:
As much a Stranger as D’ELMONT was to the Affairs of Love, he was none
to those of Friendship, and making no doubt but that the former ought
to yield to the latter in every respect; contented himself with telling
one of ALOVISA’S Servants, as he went out, that he wou’d wait on her
in the Evening, and made what hast he cou’d to give his beloved Brother
the welcome he expected after so long an absence; and indeed the manner
of their Meeting, express’d a most intire and sincere Affection on both
sides. The _Chevalier_ was but a Year younger than the _Count_, they had
been bred together from their Infancy, and there was such a sympathy in
their Souls, and so great a Resemblance in their Persons, as very much
contributed to endear ’em to each other with a Tenderness far beyond that
which is ordinarily found among Relations. After the first Testimonies of
it were over, D’ELMONT began to Question him how he had pass’d his Time
since their Separation, and to give him some little Reproaches for not
writing so often as he might have Expected. Alas! my dearest Brother,
reply’d the _Chevalier_, such various Adventures have hap’ned to me
since we parted, as when I relate ’em, will I hope excuse my seeming
Negligence; these Words were accompany’d with Sighs, and a Melancholly
Air immediately overspreading his Face, and taking away great part of the
Vivacity, which lately sparkled in his Eyes, rais’d an impatient Desire
in the _Count_ to know the Reason of it, which when he had express’d, the
other (after having engag’d him, that whatever Causes he might find to
ridicule his Folly, he wou’d suspend all appearance of it till the end of
his Narration) began to satisfy in this Manner.

[Illustration]

    [Illustration]

    THE STORY OF THE Chevalier BRILLIAN.

    At St. _Omers_, where you left me, I happen’d to make an
    Acquaintance with one Monsieur BELPINE, a Gentleman who was
    there on some Business; we being both pretty much Strangers
    in the Place, occasion’d an Intimacy between us, which the
    disparity of our Tempers, wou’d have prevented our Commencing
    at _Paris_; but you know I was never a lover of Solitude, and
    for want of Company more agreeable, was willing to encourage
    his. He was indeed so obliging as to stay longer at St. _Omers_
    then his Affairs required, purposely to engage me to make
    _Amiens_ in my way to _Paris_. He was very Vain, and fancying
    himself happy in the esteem of the fair Sex, was desirous I
    should be witness of the Favours they bestow’d on him. Among
    the Number of those he used to talk of, was Madamoiselle
    ANSELLINA de la TOUR, a _Parisian_ Lady, and Heiress of a
    great Estate, but had been some time at _Amiens_ with Madam
    the Baroness _de_ BERONVILLE her God-Mother. The Wonders he
    told me of this young Lady’s Wit, and Beauty, inclin’d me to a
    desire of seeing her; and as soon as I was in a Condition to
    Travel, we took our Way towards _Amiens_, he us’d me with all
    the Friendship he was capable of expressing; and soon after we
    arriv’d, carry’d me to the _Baronesses_: But oh Heavens! How
    great was my Astonishment when I found ANSELLINA as far beyond
    his faint Description, as the Sun Beams the Imitation of Art;
    besides the regularity of her Features, the delicacy of her
    Complexion, and the just Simmetry of her whole Composition, she
    has an undescribable Sweetness that plays about her Eyes and
    Mouth, and softens all her Air: But all her Charms, dazling
    as they are, would have lost their captivating Force on me,
    if I had believ’d her capable of that weakness for BELPINE,
    that his Vanity would have me think. She is very Young and
    Gay, and I easily perceiv’d she suffer’d his Addresses more
    out of Diversion then any real Regard she had for him; he held
    a constant Correspondence at _Paris_, and was continually
    furnish’d with every thing that was _Novel_, and by that means
    introduc’d himself into many Companies, who else wou’d not
    have endured him; but when at any time I was so happy as to
    entertain the lovely ANSELLINA alone, and we had Opportunity
    for serious Discourse, (which was impossible in his Company)
    I found that she was Mistress of a Wit, Poynant enough to be
    Satyrical, yet it was accompanied with a Discretion as very
    much heighten’d her Charms, and compleated the Conquest that
    her Eyes begun. I will confess to you, Brother, that I became
    so devoted to my Passion, that I had no leisure for any other
    Sentiments. Fears, Hopes, Anxities, jealous Pains, uneasie
    Pleasures, all the Artillery of Love, were garrison’d in my
    Heart, and a thousand various half form’d Resolutions fill’d my
    Head. ANSELLINA’s insensibility among a Crow’d of Admirers, and
    the disparity of our Fortunes, wou’d have given me just Causes
    of Despair, if the Generosity of her Temper had not dissipated
    the one, and her Youth, and the hope her Hour was not yet come,
    the other. I was often about letting her know the Power she had
    over me, but something of an awe which none but those who truly
    Love can guess at, still prevented my being able to utter it,
    and I believ’d should have languish’d ’till this Moment in an
    unavailing silence, if an accident had not hapen’d to embolden
    me: I went one Day to visit my Adorable, and being told she
    was in the Garden, went thither in hopes to see her, but being
    deceiv’d in my Expectation, believ’d the Servant who gave
    me that Information was mistaken, and fancying she might be
    retir’d to her Closet, as she very often did in an Afternoon,
    and the pleasantness of the Place inducing me to stay there
    till she was willing to admit me. I sat down at the Foot of
    a DIANA, curiously carv’d in Marble, and full of melancholy
    Reflections without knowing what I did, took a black lead Pen
    out of my Pocket, and writ on the Pedestal these two Lines.

        _Hopeless, and Silent, I must still adore,_
        _Her Heart’s more hard than Stone whom I’d implore._

    I had scarce finish’d ’em, when I perceiv’d ANSELLINA at a good
    distance from me, coming out of a little Arbour; the respect I
    had for her, made me fear she should know I was the Author of
    ’em, and guess, what I found, I had not gain’d Courage enough
    to tell her. I went out of the Alley, as I imagin’d, unseen,
    and design’d to come up another, and meet her, before she cou’d
    get into the House. But tho’ I walk’d pretty fast, she had left
    the Place before I cou’d attain it; and in her stead (casting
    my Eyes toward the Statue with an Intention to rub out what I
    had writ) I found this Addition to it.

        _You wrong your Love, while you conceal your Pain,_
        _Flints will dissolve with constant drops of Rain._

    But, my dear Brother, if you are yet insensible of the
    wonderful Effects of Love, you will not be able to imagine what
    I felt at this View; I was satisfy’d it could be writ by no
    Body but ANSELLINA, there being no other Person in the Garden,
    and knew as well she could not design that Encouragement for
    any other Man, because on many Occasions she had seen my
    Hand; and the Day before had written a Song for her, which
    she desir’d to learn, with that very Pen I now had made use
    of; and going hastily away at the sight of her, had forgot
    to take with me. I gaz’d upon the dear obliging Characters,
    and kiss’d the Marble which contain’d ’em, a thousand times
    before I cou’d find in my Heart to efface ’em; as I was in
    this agreeable Amazement, I heard BELPINE’S Voice calling to
    me as he came up the walk, which oblig’d me to put an end to
    it, and the Object which occasion’d it. He had been told as
    well as I, that ANSELLINA was in the Garden, and expressing
    some wonder to see me alone, ask’d where she was, I answer’d
    him with a great deal of real Truth, that I knew not, and that
    I had been there some Time, but had not been so happy as to
    Entertain her. He seem’d not to give Credit to what I said,
    and began to use me after a Fashion as would have much more
    astonish’d me from any other Person. I would not have you, said
    he, be concern’d at what I am about to say, because you are
    one of those for whom I am willing to preserve a Friendship;
    and to convince you of my Sincerity, give you leave to address
    after what manner you please to any of the Ladies with whom I
    have brought you acquainted, excepting ANSELLINA. But I take
    this Opportunity to let you know, I have already made choice
    of her, with a design of Marriage, and from this time forward,
    shall look on any Visits you shall make to her, as injurious
    to my Pretensions. Tho’ I was no Stranger to the Vanity and
    Insolence of BELPINE’S Humour, yet not being accustomed to
    such arbitrary Kind of Treatment, had certainly resented it
    (if we had been in any other Place) in a very different Manner
    than I did, but the consideration that to make a Noise there,
    would be a Reflection, rather than a Vindication on ANSELLINA’S
    Fame; I contented myself with telling him he might be perfectly
    easie, that whatever Qualifications the Lady might have that
    should encourage his Addresses, I should never give her any
    Reason to boast a Conquest over me. These Words might have born
    two Interpretations, if the disdainful Air with which I spoke
    ’em, and which I could not dissemble, and going immediately
    away had not made him take ’em, as they were really design’d,
    to affront him; He was full of Indignation and Jealousy (if
    it is possible for a Person to be touch’d with that Passion,
    who is not capable of the other, which generally occasions
    it) but however, having taken it into his Head to imagine I
    was better receiv’d by ANSELLINA than he desired; Envy, and
    a sort of a Womanish Spleen transported him so far as to go
    to ANSELLINA’s Apartment, and rail at me most profusely (as I
    have since been told) and threaten how much he’d be reveng’d,
    if he heard I ever should have the assurance to Visit there
    again. ANSELLINA at first laugh’d at his Folly, but finding
    he persisted, and began to assume more Liberty than she ever
    meant to afford him; instead of list’ning to his Entreaties,
    to forbid me the Privilege I had enjoy’d of her Conversation;
    she pass’d that very Sentence on him, and when next I waited of
    her, receiv’d me with more Respect than ever; and when at last
    I took the boldness to acquaint her with my Passion; I had the
    Satisfaction to observe from the frankness of her Disposition,
    that I was not indifferent to her; nor indeed did she, even in
    Publick, affect any reservedness more than the decencies of
    her Sex and Quality requir’d; for after my Pretensions to her
    were commonly talk’d of, and those who were intimate with her,
    wou’d rally her about me; she pass’d it off with a Spirit of
    Gaity and good Humour peculiar to her self, and bated nothing
    of her usual freedom to me; she permitted me to Read to her,
    to Walk and Dance with her, and I had all the Opportunities
    of endeavouring an encrease of her Esteem that I cou’d wish,
    which so incens’d BELPINE, that he made no scruple of reviling
    both her and me in all Companies wherever he came; saying, I
    was a little worthless Fellow, who had nothing but my Sword to
    depend upon; and that ANSELLINA having no hopes of Marrying
    him, was glad to take up with the first that ask’d her. These
    scandalous Reports on my first hearing of ’em had assuredly
    been fatal to one of us, if ANSELLINA had not commanded me by
    all the Passion I profess’d, and by the Friendship she freely
    acknowledged to have for me, not to take any Notice of ’em.
    I set too high a Value on the favours she allow’d me, to be
    capable of Disobedience; and she was too nice a Judge of the
    Punctillio’s of our Sexes Honour, not to take this Sacrifice
    of so just a Resentment, as a very great proof how much I
    submitted to her will, and suffer’d not a Day to pass without
    giving me some new mark how nearly she was touch’d with it. I
    was the most contented and happy Person in the World, still
    hoping that in a little time, (she having no Relations that
    had Power to contradict her Inclinations) I should be able to
    obtain every thing from her that an honourable Passion could
    require; ’till one Evening coming Home pretty late from her, my
    Servant gave me a Letter, which he told me was left for me, by
    one of BELPINE’S Servants; I presently suspected the Contents,
    and found I was not mistaken; it was really a Challenge to meet
    him the next Morning, and must confess, tho’ I long’d for an
    Opportunity to Chastise his Insolence, was a little troubled
    how to excuse my self to ANSELLINA but there was no possibility
    of evading it, without rendering my self unworthy of her, and
    hop’d that Circumstance wou’d be sufficient to clear me to
    her. I will not trouble you, Brother, with the particulars of
    our Duel, since there was nothing material, but that at the
    third pass (I know not whether I may call it the effect of my
    good or evil Fortune) he receiv’d my Sword a good depth in
    his Body, and fell with all the Symptoms of a Dying-Man. I
    made all possible hast to send a Surgeon to him. In my way I
    met two Gentlemen, who it seems he had made acquainted with
    his Design (probably with an intention to be prevented). They
    ask’d me what Success, and when I had inform’d ’em, advis’d me
    to be gone from _Amiens_ before the News should reach the Ears
    of BELPINE’S Relations, who were not inconsiderable in that
    Place. I made ’em those Retributions their Civilities deserv’d;
    but how eminent soever the Danger appear’d that threatned me,
    cou’d not think of leaving _Amiens_, without having first seen
    ANSELLINA. I went to the _Baronesses_, and found my Charmer
    at her Toylet, and either it was my Fancy, or else she really
    did look more amiable in that Undress, than ever I had seen
    her, tho’ adorn’d with the utmost Illustrations. She seem’d
    surpriz’d at seeing me so early, and with her wonted good
    Humour, asking me the reason of it, put me into a mortal Agony
    how to answer her, for I must assure you, Brother, that the
    fears of her Displeasure were a thousand times more dreadful
    to me, than any other apprehensions; she repeated the Question
    three or four times before I had Courage to Reply, and I
    believe she was pretty near guessing the Truth by my Silence,
    and the disorder in my Countenance before I spoke; and when I
    did, she receiv’d the account of the whole Adventure with a
    vast deal of trouble, but no anger; she knew too well, what I
    ow’d to my Reputation, and the Post his Majesty had honour’d me
    with, to believe, I cou’d, or ought to dispence with submitting
    to the Reflections which must have fallen on me, had I acted
    otherwise than I did. Her Concern and Tears, which she had not
    Power to contain at the thoughts of my Departure, joyn’d with
    her earnest Conjurations to me to be gone, let me more than
    ever into the Secrets of her Heart, and gave me a Pleasure as
    inconceivable as the necessity of parting did the contrary.
    Nothing cou’d be more moving than our taking leave, and when
    she tore her self half willing, and half unwilling, from
    my Arms, had sent me away inconsolable, if her Promises of
    coming to _Paris_, as soon as she could, without being taken
    notice of, and frequently writing to me in the mean time,
    had not given me a Hope, tho’ a distant one, of Happiness.
    Thus Brother, have I given you, in as few Words as I cou’d, a
    Recital of every thing that has happen’d to me of Consequence
    since our Separation, in which I dare believe you will find
    more to Pity than Condemn. The afflicted Chevalier cou’d not
    conclude without letting fall some Tears; which the _Count_
    perceiving, ran to him, and tenderly embracing him, said all
    that cou’d be expected from a most affectionate Friend to
    mitigate his Sorrows, nor suffered him to remove from his Arms
    ’till he had accomplish’d his Design; and then believing the
    hearing of the Adventures of another, (especially one he was
    so deeply interested in) would be the surest Means to give a
    Truce to the more melancholy Reflections on his own; related
    every thing that had befallen him since his coming to _Paris_.
    The Letters he receiv’d from a Lady _Incognito_, his little
    Gallantries with AMENA, and the accident that presented to his
    View, the unknown Lady in the Person of one of the greatest
    Fortunes in all _France_. Nothing cou’d be a greater Cordial
    to the Chevalier, than to find his Brother was belov’d by the
    Sister of ANSELLINA; he did not doubt but that by this there
    might be a possibility of seeing her sooner than else he cou’d
    have hop’d, and the two Brothers began to enter into a serious
    consultation of this Affair, which ended with a Resolution
    to fix their Fortunes there. The _Count_ had never yet seen
    a Beauty formidable enough to give him an Hours uneasiness
    (purely for the sake of Love) and would often say, _Cupid_’s
    Quiver never held an Arrow of force to reach his Heart; those
    little Delicacies, those trembling aking Transports, which
    every sight of the belov’d Object occasions, and so visibly
    distinguishes a real Passion from a Counterfeit, he look’d on
    as the Chimera’s of an idle Brain, form’d to inspire Notions of
    an imaginary Bliss, and make Fools lose themselves in seeking;
    or if they had a Being; it was only in weak Souls, a kind of
    a Disease with which he assur’d himself he should never be
    infected. Ambition was certainly the reigning Passion in his
    Soul, and ALOVISA’S Quality and vast Possessions, promising a
    full Gratification of that, he ne’er so much as wish’d to know
    a farther Happiness in Marriage.

    But while the _Count_ and _Chevalier_ were thus Employ’d,
    the Rival Ladies past their Hours in a very different
    Entertainment, the despair and bitter Lamentations that the
    unfortunate AMENA made, when she came out of her swooning, were
    such as mov’d even ALOVISA to Compassion, and if any thing
    but resigning D’ELMONT cou’d have given her Consolation, she
    wou’d willing have apply’d it. There was now no need of further
    Dissimulation, and she confessed to AMENA, that she had Lov’d
    the Charming _Count_ with a kind of Madness from the first
    Moment she beheld him: That to favour her Designs on him, she
    had made use of every Stratagem she cou’d invent, that by her
    means, the Amour was first discover’d to _Monsieur_ SANSEVERIN,
    and his Family Alarm’d the Night before; and Lastly, that by
    her Persuasions, he had resolv’d to send her to a Monastry, to
    which she must prepare her self to go in a few Days without
    taking any leave even of her Father; have you (cry’d AMENA
    hastily interrupting her) have you prevail’d with my Father to
    send me from this hated Place without the Punishment of hearing
    his upbraidings? Which the other answering in the Affirmative,
    I thank you, resum’d AMENA, that Favour has cancell’d all your
    Score of Cruelty, for after the Follies I have been guilty of,
    nothing is so dreadful as the Sight of him. And, who wou’d, oh
    Heavens! (continued she bursting into a Flood of Tears) wish
    to stay in a World so full of Falshood. She was able to utter
    no more for some Moments, but at last, raising herself on the
    Bed where she was laid, and endeavouring to seem a little
    more compos’d: I have two Favours, Madam, yet to ask of you
    (rejoin’d she) neither of ’em will, I believe, seem difficult
    to you to grant, that you will make use of the Power you have
    with my Father, to let my Departure be as sudden as possible,
    and that while I am here, I may never see Count D’ELMONT. It
    was not likely that ALOVISA shou’d deny Requests so suitable
    to her own Inclinations, and believing, with a great deal of
    Reason, that her Presence was not very grateful, left her to
    the Care of her Women, whom she order’d to attend her with the
    same Diligence as herself. It was Evening before the Count
    came, and ALOVISA spent the remainder of the Day in very
    uneasie Reflections; she knew not, as yet, whether she had
    Cause to rejoyce in, or blame her Fortune in so unexpectedly
    discovering her Passion, and an incessant vicissitude of Hope
    and Fears, rack’d her with most intollerable Inquietude, till
    the darling Object of her Wishes appear’d; and tho’ the first
    sight of him, added to her other Passions, that of Shame, yet
    he manag’d his Address so well, and so modestly and artfully
    hinted the Knowledge of his Happiness, that every Sentiment
    gave place to a new Admiration of the Wonders of his Wit; and
    if before she lov’d, she now ador’d, and began to think it a
    kind of Merit in herself, to be sensible of his. He soon put
    it in her Power to oblige him, by giving her the History of
    his Brother’s Passion for her Sister, and she was not at all
    backward in assuring him how much she approv’d of it, and that
    she wou’d write to ANSELLINA by the first Post, to engage her
    coming to _Paris_ with all imaginable Speed. In fine, there
    was nothing He cou’d ask, refus’d, and indeed it would have
    been ridiculous for her to have affected Coyness, after the
    Testimonies she had long since given him of one of the most
    violent Passions that ever was; this fore-Knowledge sav’d
    abundance of Dissimulation on both Sides, and she took care
    that if he should be wanting in his kind Expressions after
    Marriage, he should not have it in his Power to pretend (as
    some Husbands have done) that his Stock was exhausted in a
    tedious Courtship. Everything was presently agreed upon, and
    the Wedding Day appointed, which was to be as soon as every
    thing cou’d be got ready to make it Magnificent; tho’ the
    _Count’s_ good Nature made him desirous to learn something of
    AMENA, yet he durst not enquire, for fear of giving an Umbrage
    to his intended Bride; but she, imagining the Reason of his
    Silence, very frankly told him, how she was to be dispos’d
    of, this Knowledge made no small Addition to his Contentment,
    for had she stay’d in _Paris_, he could expect nothing but
    continual Jealousies from ALOVISA; besides, as he really
    wish’d her happy, tho’ he could not make her so, he thought
    Absence might banish a hopeless Passion from her Heart, and
    Time and other Objects efface an Idea, which could not but be
    destructive to her Peace. He stay’d at ALOVISA’S House ’till it
    was pretty late, and perhaps they had not parted in some Hours
    longer, if his impatience to inform his Brother his Success,
    had not carried him away. The young _Chevalier_ was infinitely
    more transported at the bare Hopes of being something nearer
    the Aim of all his Hopes, than D’ELMONT was at the Assurance
    of losing his in Possession, and could not forbear rallying
    him for placing the ultimate of his Wishes on such a Toy, as
    he argu’d Woman was, which the _Chevalier_ endeavouring to
    confute, there began a very warm Dispute, in which, neither of
    ’em being able to convince the other, Sleep at last interpos’d
    as Moderator. The next Day they went together to visit ALOVISA,
    and from that time were seldom asunder: But in Compassion to
    AMENA, they took what Care they could to conceal the Design
    they had in Hand, and that unhappy Lady was in a few Days,
    according to her Rival’s Contrivance, hurried away, without
    seeing any of her Friends. When she was gone, and there was no
    farther need of keeping it a Secret, the News of this great
    Wedding was immediately spread over the whole Town, and every
    one talk’d of it as their particular Interests or Affections
    dictated. All D’ELMONT’S Friends were full of Joy, and he
    met no inconsiderable Augmentation of it himself, when his
    Brother receiv’d a Letter from ANSELLINA, with an Account,
    that BELPINE’S Wound was found not Dangerous, and that he was
    in a very fair way of Recovery. And it was concluded, that as
    soon as the Wedding was over, the _Chevalier_ should go in
    Person to AMIENS, and fetch his belov’d ANSELLINA, in order
    for a Second, and as much desir’d Nuptial. There was no Gloom
    now left to Cloud the Gaiety of the happy Day, nothing could
    be more Grand than the Celebration of it, and ALOVISA now
    thought her self at the end of all her Cares; but the Sequel
    of this glorious Beginning, and what Effect the Despair and
    Imprecations of AMENA (when she heard of it) produc’d, shall,
    with the continuance of the _Chevalier_ BRILLIAN’S Adventures,
    be faithfully related in the next Part.

End of the FIRST PART.

[Illustration]




                            LOVE in _Excess_:
                                 OR, THE
                             FATAL INQUIRY,
                                    A
                                 NOVEL.

                            PART the SECOND.

                           By _Mrs._ HAYWOOD.

              _Each Day we break the bond of Humane Laws_
              _For Love, and vindicate the common Cause._
              _Laws for Defence of civil Rights are plac’d;_
              _Love throws the Fences down, and makes a gen’ral waste_
              _Maids, Widows, Wives, without distinction fall,_
              _The sweeping deluge Love, comes on and covers all._

                                                          DRYDEN.

                             [Illustration]

                                 LONDON:
                 Printed for W. CHETWOOD, J. WOODMAN, D.
                         BROWN, and S. CHAPMAN.




[Illustration]




LOVE in EXCESS:

OR, THE

FATAL ENQUIRY.

PART the SECOND.


The Contentment that appear’d in the Faces of the new Married Pair,
added so much to the Impatience of the _Chevalier_ BRILLIAN to see his
belov’d ANSELLINA, that in a few Days after the Wedding, he took leave
of them, and departed for _Amiens_: But as human Happiness is seldom of
long continuance, and ALOVISA placing the Ultimate of _her’s_ in the
Possession of her Charming Husband, secure of that, despis’d all future
Events, ’twas time for _Fortune_, who long enough had smil’d, now to turn
her Wheel, and punish the presumption that defy’d her Power.

As they were one Day at Dinner, a Messenger came to Acquaint _Count_
D’ELMONT that _Monsieur_ FRANKVILLE was taken, suddenly, so violently
Ill, that his Physicians despair’d of his Life; and that he beg’d to
speak with him immediately: This Gentleman had been Guardian to the COUNT
during his Minority, and the Care and Faithfulness with which that Trust
had been Discharg’d, made him, with Reason, to regret the danger of
losing so good a Friend: He delay’d the Visit not a Moment, and found him
as the Servant had told him, in a Condition which cou’d cherish no hopes
of Recovery, as soon as he perceiv’d the COUNT come into the Chamber, he
desir’d to be left alone with him, which Order being presently obey’d,
My dear Charge, (said he taking him by the Hand, and pressing to his
trembling Bosom) you see me at the point of Death, but the knowledge of
your many Virtues, and the Confidence I have that you will not deny me
the request I am about to ask, makes me support the Thoughts of it with
Moderation. The other assuring him of his readiness to serve him in any
Command, encourag’d the old Gentleman to prosecute his Discourse in this
manner: You are not Ignorant, my Lord (Rejoin’d He) that my Son (the only
one have) is on his Travels, gone by my Approbation, and his own Desires
to make the Tour of _Europe_; but I have a Daughter, whose Protection I
wou’d entreat you to undertake; her Education in a Monastery has hitherto
kept her intirely unacquainted with the Gayeties of a Court, or the
Conversation of the _Beau Monde_, and I have sent for her to _Paris_
purposely to Introduce her into Company, proper for a young Lady, who I
never design’d for a Recluse; I know not whether she will be here time
enough to close my Eyes, but if you will promise to receive her into
your House, and not suffer her artless and unexperienc’d Youth to fall
into those Snares which are daily laid for Innocence, and take so far a
Care, that neither she, nor the Fortune I leave her, be thrown away upon
a Man unworthy of her, I shall dye well satisfy’d. D’ELMONT answer’d
this Request, with repeated assurances of fulfilling it, and frankly
offer’d, if he had no other Person in whom he rather wou’d confide, to
take the management of the whole Estate he left behind him, till young
FRANKVILLE should return----The anxious Father was transported at this
Favour, and thank’d him in Terms full of Gratitude and Affection; they
spent some Hours in settling this Affair, and perhaps had not ended it so
soon, if Word had not been brought that the young Lady his Daughter was
alighted at the Gate; ’tis impossible to express the Joy which fill’d the
old Gentleman’s Heart at this News, and he began afresh to put the COUNT
in mind of what he had promis’d concerning her: As they were in this
endearing, tho’ mournful Entertainment, the matchless MELLIORA enter’d,
the Surprize and Grief for her Father’s Indisposition (having heard of
it but since she came into the House) hindered her from regarding any
thing but him, and throwing herself on her Knees by the Bed-side, wash’d
the Hand which he stretch’d out to raise her with, in a flood of Tears,
accompany’d with Expressions, which, unstudy’d and incoherent as they
were, had a delicacy in ’em, that show’d her Wit not inferiour to her
Tenderness; and that no Circumstance cou’d render her otherwise than
the most lovely Person in the World; when the first transports of her
Sorrow were over, and that with much ado she was persuaded to rise from
the Posture she was in: The Affliction I see thee in my Dear Child,
(said her Father) wou’d be a vast addition to the Agonies I feel, were I
not so happy as to be provided with Means for a mitigation of it, think
not in losing me thou wilt be left wholly an Orphan, this worthy Lord
will dry thy Tears. Therefore, my last Commands to thee shall be, to
oblige thee to endeavour to deserve the Favours he is pleas’d to do us
in accepting thee for---He wou’d have proceeded, but his Physicians (who
had been in Consultation in the next Room) coming in prevented him, and
_Count_ D’ELMONT taking the charming MELLIORA by the Hand, led her to
the Window, and beginning to speak some Words of Consolation to her,
the softness of his Voice, and graceful Manner with which he deliver’d
himself (always the inseparable Companions of his Discourse, but now more
particularly so) made her cast her Eyes upon him; but alas, he was not
an Object to be safely gaz’d at, and in spight of the Grief she was in,
she found something in his Form which dissipated it; a kind of painful
Pleasure, a mixture of Surprize, and Joy, and doubt, ran thro’ her in an
instant; her Fathers Words suggested to her Imagination, that she was in
a possibility of calling the charming Person that stood before her, by a
Name more tender than that of Guardian, and all the Actions, Looks, and
Address of D’ELMONT serv’d but to confirm her in that Belief. For now it
was, that this insensible began to feel the Power of Beauty, and that
Heart which had so long been Impregnable, surrender’d in a Moment; the
first sight of MELLIORA gave him a Discomposure he had never felt before,
he Sympathiz’d in all her Sorrows, and was ready to joyn his Tears with
hers, but when her Eyes met his, the God of Love seem’d there to have
united all his Lightnings for one effectual Blaze, their Admiration of
each others Perfections was mutual, and tho’ he had got the start in
Love, as being touch’d with that Almighty Dart, before her Affliction had
given her leave to regard him, yet the softness of her Soul made up for
that little loss of time, and it was hard to say whose Passion was the
Strongest; she listned to his Condolements, and assurances of everlasting
Friendship, with a pleasure which was but too visible in her Countenance,
and more enflam’d the COUNT. As they were exchanging Glances, as if each
vyed with the other who should dart the fiercest Rays, they heard a sort
of ominous Whispering about the Bed, and presently one of those who
stood near it, beckon’d them to come thither; the Physicians had found
_Monsieur_ FRANKVILLE in a much worse Condition than they left him in,
and soon after perceiv’d evident Symptoms in him of approaching Death,
and indeed there were but a very few Moments between him and that other
unfathomable World; the use of Speech had left him, and he cou’d take
no other leave of his dear Daughter than with his Eyes; which sometimes
were cast tenderly on her, sometimes on the COUNT, with a beseeching
Look, as it were, to Conjure him to be careful of his Charge; then up to
Heaven, as witness of the Trust he reposed in him. There cou’d not be a
Scene more Melancholly than this dumb Farewell, and MELLIORA, whose soft
Disposition had never before been shock’d, had not Courage to support so
dreadful a one as this, but fell upon the Bed just as her Father Breath’d
his last, as motionless as he. It is impossible to represent the Agony’s
which fill’d the Heart of D’ELMONT at this View, he took her in his Arms,
and assisted those who were endeavouring to recover her, with a wildness
in his Countenance, a trembling Horror shaking all his Fabrick in such a
manner, as might have easily discover’d to the Spectators (if they had
not been too busily employ’d to take notice of it) that he was Actuated
by a Motive far more powerful than that of Compassion. As soon as she
came to herself, they forc’d her from the Dead Body of her Father (to
which she Clung) and carried her into another Room, and it being judg’d
convenient that she should be remov’d from that House, where every thing
wou’d serve but to remind her of her Loss, the COUNT desir’d the Servants
of _Monsieur_ FRANKVILLE shou’d be call’d, and then in the presence of
’em all, declar’d their Master’s last Request, and order’d an Account of
all Affairs shou’d be brought to his House, where he wou’d immediately
Conduct their young Lady, as he had promis’d to her Father. If MELLIORA
had been without any other cause of Grief, this Eclaircissment had been
sufficient to have made her Miserable: She had already entertained a
most tender Affection for the COUNT, and had not so little discernment
as not to be sensible she had made the like Impression on him; but now
she wak’d as from a Dream of promis’d Joys, to certain Woes, and the same
Hour which gave Birth to her Passion, commenc’d an adequate Despair, and
kill’d her Hopes just budding.

Indeed there never was any Condition so truly deplorable as that of this
unfortunate Lady; she had just lost a dear and tender Father, whose
Care was ever watchful for her, her Brother was far off, and she had no
other Relation in the World to apply her self to for Comfort, or Advice;
not even an Acquaintance at _Paris_, or Friend, but him who but newly
was become so, and whom she found it dangerous to make use of, whom she
knew it was a Crime to Love, yet cou’d not help Loving; the more she
thought, the more she grew Distracted, and the less able to resolve on
any Thing; a thousand Times she call’d on Death to give her ease, but
that pale Tyrant flies from the Pursuer, she had not been yet long enough
acquainted with the ills of Life, and must endure (how unwilling soever)
her part of Sufferings in common with the rest of human kind.

As soon as D’ELMONT had given some necessary Directions to the Servants,
he came to the Couch, where she was sitting in a fix’d and silent Sorrow
(tho’ inwardly toss’d with various and violent Agitations) and offering
her his Hand, entreated her to permit him to wait on her from that House
of Woe. Alas! Said she, to what purpose shou’d I remove, who bear my
Miseries about me? Wretch that I am!---a flood of Tears, here interpos’d,
and hindred her from proceeding, which falling from such lovely Eyes,
had a Magnetick Influence to draw the same from every beholder; but
D’ELMONT who knew that was not the way to Comfort her, dry’d his as soon
as possible, and once more beg’d she wou’d depart; suffer my return then
(answer’d she) to the Monastery, for what have I to do in _Paris_ since
I have lost my Father? By no means, Madam (resum’d the _Count_ hastily)
that were to disappoint your Fathers Designs, and contradict his last
Desires; believe most lovely MELLIORA (continu’d he taking her by the
Hand and letting fall some Tears which he cou’d not restrain, upon it)
that I bear at least an equal Share in your Affliction, and lament for
you, and for my self: Such a regard my grateful Soul paid _Monsieur_
FRANKVILLE for all his wondrous Care and Goodness to me, that in his
Death methinks I am twice an Orphan. But Tears are fruitless to reinspire
his now cold Clay, therefore must transmit the Love and Duty I owed him
living, to his Memory Dead, and an exact performance of his Will; and
since he thought me worthy of so vast a Trust as MELLIORA, I hope she
will be guided by her Fathers Sentiments, and believe that D’ELMONT (tho’
a Stranger to her) has a Soul not uncapable of Friendship. Friendship!
Did I say? (rejoyn’d he softning his Voice) that term is too mean to
express a Zeal like mine, the Care, the Tenderness, the Faith, the fond
Affection of Parents,---Brothers, ---Husbands,---Lovers, all Compriz’d
in one! One great Unutterable! Comprehensive Meaning, is mine! for
MELLIORA! She return’d no Answer but Sighs, to all he said to her; but
he renewing his Entreaties, and urging her Father’s Commands, she was at
last prevail’d upon to go into his Chariot, which had waited at the Door
all the Time of his being there.

As they went, he left nothing unsaid that he believ’d might tend to
her Consolation, but she had Griefs which at present he was a Stranger
to; and his Conversation, in which she found a thousand Charms, rather
Encreas’d, than Diminish’d the trouble she was in: Every Word, every Look
of his, was a fresh Dagger to her Heart, and in spight of the Love she
bore her Father, and the unfeign’d Concern his sudden Death had given
her, she was now convinc’d that COUNT D’ELMONT’S Perfections were her
severest Wounds.

When they came to his House, He presented her to ALOVISA, and giving her
a brief Account of what had happened, engag’d that Lady to receive her
with all imaginable Demonstrations of Civility and Kindness.

He soon left the two Ladies together, pretending Business, but indeed to
satisfie his Impatience, which long’d for an opportunity to meditate on
this Adventure. But his Reflections were now grown far less pleasing than
they used to be; real Sighs flew from his Breast uncall’d: And MELLIORA’S
Image in dazling Brightness! In terrible Array of killing Charms; Fir’d
Him with (impossible to be attain’d) Desires: he found by sad Experience
what it was to Love, and to Despair. He Admir’d! Ador’d! And wish’d, even
to Madness! Yet had too much Honour, too much Gratitude for the Memory
of Monsieur FRANKVILLE; and too sincere an Awe for the lovely Cause of
his Uneasiness, to form a Thought that cou’d encourage his new Passion.
What wou’d he not have given to have been Unmarried? How often did he
Curse the Hour in which ALOVISA’S fondness was discover’d? And how much
more his own Ambition, which prompted him to take Advantage of it, and
hurry’d him Precipitately to a Hymen, where Love, (the noblest Guest) was
wanting? It was in these racks of Thought, that the unfortunate AMENA was
remembr’d, and he cou’d not forbear acknowledging the Justice of that
Doom, which inflicted on him, these very Torments he had given her. A
severe Repentance seiz’d on his Soul, and ALOVYSA for whom he never had
any thing more than an Indifferency; now began to seem Distasteful to his
Fancy, he look’d on her, as indeed she was, the chief Author of AMENA’S
Misfortunes, and abhorr’d her for that Infidelity. But when he consider’d
her, as the Bar ’twixt Him and MELLIORA she appear’d like his ill Genius
to him, and he cou’d not support the Thoughts of being oblig’d to love
her (or at least to seem as if he did) with Moderation. In the midst of
these Reflections his Servant came in and deliver’d a Letter to him which
had been just left by the Post. The COUNT immediately knew the Hand to be
AMENA’S, and was cover’d with the utmost Confusion and Remorse when he
read these Lines.

    [Illustration]

    To the too Charming and Perfidious D’ELMONT.

    _Now Hopes, and Fears, and Jealousies are over! Doubt is no
    more! You are for ever lost! And my unfaithful, happy Rival!
    Triumphs in your Arms, and my Undoing!----I need not wish
    you Joy, the haste you made to enter into Hymen’s Bonds, and
    the more than ordinary Pomp with which that Ceremony was
    Celebrated, assures me you are highly satisfied with your
    Condition; and that any future Testimonies of the Friendship
    of so wretched a Creature as AMENA, wou’d be receiv’d by you,
    with the same Disregard, as those she has given you of a more
    tender Passion.----Shameful Remembrance! Oh that I cou’d Blot
    it out!----Erace from the Book of Time those fond deluded
    Hours! Forget I ever saw the Lovely false D’ELMONT! Ever
    listned to his soft persuasive Accents! And thought his love
    a mighty Price for Ruin------My Father writes that you are
    Married, Commands my Return to Paris, and assume an Air as Gay,
    and Chearful as that with which I used to appear.----Alas! How
    little does he know his Daughters Heart? And how impossible
    is it, for me to Obey him, can I look on you as the Husband
    of ALOVYSA, without remembring you were once the Lover of
    AMENA? Can Love like mine, so fierce, so passionately, tender,
    e’re sink to a calm, cold Indifference? Can I behold the fond
    Endearments of your bridal Joys (which you’d not be able to
    Restrain, even before me) and not burst with Envy? No, the
    Sight wou’d turn me quite Distracted, and I shou’d commit some
    Desperate Violence that wou’d Undoe us all.---Therefore, I hide
    my self for ever from it, bid an everlasting Adieu to all the
    gay Delights and Pleasures of my Youth.-----To all the Pomp
    and Splendor of the Court.-----To all that the mistaken World
    calls Happiness.---To Father, Friends, Relations, all that’s
    Dear----But your Idea, and that, not even these consecrated
    Walls, nor Iron Gates keep out; Sleeping or Waking you are
    ever with me, you mingle with my most solemn Devotions; and
    while I Pray to Heaven that I may think on you no more, a
    guilty Pleasure rises in my Soul, and contradicts my Vows! All
    my Confessions are so many Sins, and the same Breath which
    tells my Ghostly Father I abjure your Memory, speaks your dear
    Name with Transport. Yes----Cruel! Ungrateful!---Faithless
    as you are, I still do Love you----Love you to that infinite
    degree, that now, methinks fir’d with thy Charms (repenting
    all I’ve said) I cou’d wish even to renew those Moments of my
    Ruin!----Pity me D’ELMONT, if thou hast Humanity.-----Judge
    what the rackings of my Soul must be, when I resolve, with all
    this Love, this Languishment about me; never to see you more._

    _Every thing is preparing for my Reception into holy Orders,
    (how unfit I am Heaven knows) and in a few Days I shall put on
    the Vail which excludes me from the World for ever; therefore,
    if these distracted Lines are worth an Answer, it must be
    Speedy, or it will not come to my Hands. Perhaps not find me
    Living.-----I can no more-----Farewel (thou dear Destroyer of
    my Soul)_

                                       _Eternally Farewel_, AMENA.

    _P.S._ _I_ do not urge you to write, _Alovisa_ (I wish I
    cou’d not say your Wife) will perhaps think it too great
    a Condescention, and not suffer you so long from her
    Embraces.----Yet if you can get loose.----But you know best
    what’s proper to be done----Forgive the restlesness of a
    dispairing Wretch, who cannot cease to Love, tho’ from this
    Moment she must cease to tell you so---Once more, and for Ever,

                                                             Adieu.

Had this Letter came a Day sooner, ’tis probable it wou’d have had but
little Effect on the Soul of D’ELMONT, but his Sentiments of Love were
now so wholly chang’d, that what before he wou’d but have laugh’d at, and
perhaps despis’d, now fill’d him with Remorse and serious Anguish. He
read it over several Times, and found so many Proofs in it of a sincere
and constant Affection, that he began to pity Her, with a Tenderness like
that of a Relation, but no more: The charming MELLIORA had Engross’d all
his fonder Wishes; else it is not impossible but that ALOVISA might have
had more Reason to fear her Rivalship after Marriage, than before. That
Lady having been without the presence of her dear Husband some Hours,
had not patience to remain any longer without seeing Him, and making an
excuse to MELLIORA for leaving her alone, came running to the Closet
where he was; how unwelcome she was grown, the Reader may imagine, he
receiv’d her, not as he was wont; the Gaity which used to sparkle in his
Eyes, (at once declaring, and creating Amorous desires) now gave Place to
a sullen Gloominess, he look’d not on her, or if by chance he did; ’twas
more with Anger than with Love, in spite of his endeavours to conceal it,
she was too quick sighted (as all are that truly Love) not to be sensible
of this Alteration. However she took no notice of it, but Kissing
and Embracing him (according to her Custom whenever they were alone)
beg’d him to leave his solitary Amusement, and help her to Comfort the
afflicted Lady he brought there. Her Endearments serv’d but to encrease
his Peevishness, and heighten her Surprize at his Behaviour; and indeed,
the Moment that she enter’d the Closet was the last of her Tranquility.

When with much perswasions she had prevail’d with him to go with her into
the Room where MELLIORA was, he appeared so disorder’d at the second
Sight of that Charmer, as wou’d certainly have let ALOVYSA into the
secret of his Passion, had she not been retir’d to a Window to recover
herself from the Confusion her Husbands coldness had thrown her in,
and by that fortunate disregard of his Looks at that critical Instant,
given him (who never wanted presence of Mind) leave to form both his
Countenance and manner of Address, so as to give no suspicion of the
Truth.

This little Company was very far from being Entertaining to one another;
every one had their particular Cogitations, and were not displeas’d not
to be Interrupted in them. It growing late, ALOVYSA conducted MELLIORA to
a Chamber which she had order’d to be prepar’d for her, and then retir’d
to her own, hoping that when the COUNT shou’d come to Bed, she might be
able to make some Discovery of the Cause of his Uneasiness. But she was
deceiv’d, he spoke not to her, and when by a thousand little Inventions
she urg’d him to reply to what she said, it was in such a fashion as
only let her see, that he was extreamly troubled at something, but cou’d
not guess at what. As soon as Day broke, he rose, and shutting himself
into his Closet, left her in the greatest Consternation imaginable; she
cou’d not think it possible that the Death of _Monsieur_ FRANKVILLE
shou’d work this Transformation, and knew of no other Misfortune that had
happened. At last she remembred she had heard one of the Servants say, a
Letter was brought to their Master by the Post, and began to reflect on
every Thing (in the power of _Fortune_ to determine) that cou’d threaten
a Disturbance, yet was still as ignorant as ever. She lay not long in
Bed, but putting on her Cloaths with more Expedition than usual went
to the Closet, resolving to speak to him in a manner as shou’d oblige
him to put an end to the uncertainty she was in, but finding the Door
lock’d, her Curiosity made her look thro’ the Keyhole, and she saw him
sometimes very intirely reading a Letter, and sometimes writing, as tho’
it were an Answer to it. A sudden Thought came into her Head, and she
immediately went softly from the place where she was, without knocking
at the Door, and stay’d in a little Chamber adjacent to it, where none
could pass to, or from the Closet without being perceiv’d by her; she had
not waited long, before she heard the _Count_ Ring, and presently saw a
Servant enter, and soon after return with a Letter in his Hand; she wou’d
not speak to him then, for fear of being over heard by her Husband, but
followed him down Stairs, and when he came towards the bottom, call’d
to him in a low Voice to tarry ’till she came to him; the Fellow durst
not but Obey, and there being no body near ’em, commanded him to deliver
her the Letter: But he either afraid or unwilling to betray his Trust,
excus’d himself from it as well as he cou’d, but she was resolv’d to have
it; and when Threats wou’d not avail, condescended to Entreaties, to
which she added Bribes, which last Article join’d to the promise she made
of never revealing it, won him to her Purpose. She had scarce patience
to forbear opening it before she got to her Chamber: The Superscription
(which she saw was for AMENA) fir’d her with Disdain and Jealousie, and
it is hardly possible to imagine, much less to describe the Torrent of
her Indignation, when she found that it contain’d these Words.

    [Illustration]

    To the Lovely AMENA.

    _You accuse me of Cruelty, when at the same Time you kill
    me with yours: How Vile! How despicable, must I be grown in
    your Opinion, when you believe I can be Happy, when you are
    Miserable?---Can I enjoy the Pleasures of a Court, while you
    are shut within a Cloyster?----Shall I suffer the World to
    be depriv’d of such a Treasure as AMENA? For the Crime of
    worthless D’ELMONT-----No, no Fair, injur’d Softness, Return,
    and bless the Eyes of every Beholder! Shine out again in your
    native Lustre, uneclips’d by Grief, the Star of Beauty and
    the guide of Love.---And, if my unlucky Presence will be a
    Damp to the Brightness of your Fires, I will for ever quit the
    Place.----Tho’ I cou’d wish, you’d give me leave sometimes to
    gaze upon you, and draw some hop’d Presages of future Fortune
    from the Benignity of your Influence,---Yes, AMENA, I wou’d
    sigh out my Repentance at your Feet, and try at least to obtain
    a Pardon for my Infidelity.----For, ’tis true, what you have
    heard,----I am Marry’d---But oh AMENA! Happiness is not always
    an Attendant on HYMEN.--However, I yet may call you Friend--I
    yet may Love you, tho’ in a different way from what I once
    pretended to; and believe me, that the Love of Souls, as it
    is the most uncommon, especially in our Sex, so ’tis the most
    refin’d and noble of all Passions, and such a Love shall be
    for ever yours. Even ALOVISA (who has robb’d you of the rest)
    cannot justly resent my giving you that part,----You’ll wonder
    at this Alteration in my Temper, but ’tis sincere, I am no
    more the Gay, the Roving D’ELMONT, and when you come to PARIS,
    perhaps you will find me in a Condition more liable to your
    Pity than Indignation. What shall I say AMENA? My Crime is my
    Punishment, I have offended against Love, and against you, and
    am, if possible, as Miserable, as Guilty: Torn with Remorse,
    and Tortur’d with----I cannot----must not Name it----but ’tis
    something which can be term’d no other than the utmost severity
    of my Fate.---Haste then to Pity me, to comfort, to advise
    me, if (as you say) you yet retain any remains of your former
    Tenderness for this Ungrateful Man_,

                                                         D’ELMONT.

Ungrateful indeed! Cry’d ALOVISA (Transported with Excess of Rage and
Jealousie) Oh the Villain!---What Miseries! What Misfortunes are these
thou talk’st of? What Unhappiness has waited on thy _Himen_? ’Tis I alone
am wretched! base Deceiver!

Then, as if she wanted to discover something farther to heighten the
Indignation she was in, she began to read it over again, and indeed the
more she consider’d the meaning of what she read, the more her Passions
swell’d, ’till they got at last the entire Dominion of her Reason: She
tore the Letter in a thousand pieces, and was not much less unmerciful
to her Hair and Garments. ’Tis possible, that in the Violence of her
Fury, she might have forgot her promise to the Servant, to vent some part
of it on her Husband, if her Woman coming into the Room to know if she
was ready to dress, had not prevented her, by telling her the _Count_
was gone abroad, and had left Word, that he shou’d not return ’till
the Evening. ALOVISA had thrown herself on the Bed, and the Curtains
being drawn discover’d not the disorder she was in, and which her Pride
made her willing shou’d be still a Secret, therefore dismist her with
saying, she wou’d call her when she wanted any thing. Tho’ ALOVISA
was too apt to give a loose to her Passions on every occasion, to the
Destruction of her own Peace, yet she knew well enough how to disguise
’em, when ever she found the Concealing of them wou’d be an Advantage
to her Designs: And when the Transports of her Rage was so far over, as
to give her Liberty of Reflection, and she began to Examine the State
of her Affection to the _Count_, she soon perceiv’d it had so much the
better of all other Considerations, that in spite of the injustice she
thought him guilty of to her, she cou’d not perswade her self to do any
thing that might give him a pretence to Quarrel with her. She thought
she had done enough in Intercepting this Letter, and did not doubt but
that AMENA wou’d take his not writing to her so much to Heart, as to
prevent her ever returning to _Paris_, and resolv’d to omit nothing of
her former Endearments, or make a shew of being in the least disoblig’d;
this sort of Carriage she imagin’d wou’d not only lay him more open and
unguarded to the diligent watch she design’d to make on all his Words
and Actions, but likewise awaken him to a just Sense of her Goodness,
and his own Ingratitude.-----She rightly judg’d that when People are
Marry’d, Jealousie was not the proper Method to revive a decay’d Passion,
and that after Possession it must be only Tenderness, and constant
Assiduity to please, that can keep up desire, fresh and gay: Man is too
Arbitrary a Creature to bear the least Contradiction, where he pretends
an absolute Authority, and that Wife who thinks by ill humour and
perpetual Taunts, to make him weary of what she wou’d reclaim him from,
only renders her self more hateful, and makes that justifiable which
before was blameable in him. These, and the like Considerations made
ALOVYSA put on a Countenance of Serenity, and she so well acted the part
of an Unsuspecting Wife, that D’ELMONT was far from imagining what she
had done: However he still behav’d with the same Caution as before, to
MELLIORA; and certainly never did People disguise the Sentiments of their
Souls more artfully than did these three---MELLIORA vail’d her secret
Languishments, under the Covert of her grief for her Father, the COUNT
his Burning anguish, in a gloomy Melancholy for the Loss of his Friend;
but ALOVYSA’S Task was much the hardest, who had no pretence for grief
(raging, and bleeding with neglected Love, and stifled Pride) to frame
her Temper to a seeming Tranquility----All made it their whole study
to deceive each other, yet none but ALOVYSA was intirely in the dark;
for the _Count_ and MELLIORA had but too true a guess at one another’s
meaning, every look of his, for he had Eyes that needed no Interpreter,
gave her Intelligence of his Heart, and the Confusion which the
understanding those looks gave her, sufficiently told him how sensible
she was of ’em.----Several Days they liv’d in this Manner, in which time
_Monsieur_ FRANKVILLE was Interr’d. Which Solemnity, the _Count_ took
care shou’d be perform’d with a Magnificence suitable to the Friendship
he publickly profest to have born him, and the secret Adoration his Soul
paid to his Remains.

Nothing happned of Moment,’till a Day or two after the Funeral, a
Gentleman newly arriv’d at _Paris_, came to visit the _Count_, and gave
him an Account of AMENA’S having taken the Habit; how, (said D’ELMONT
Interrupting him) is it possible?----Has she then profest? Yes, answer’d
the Gentleman, having a Sister whom I always tenderly lov’d at the
Monastery at St. _Dennis_, my affection oblig’d me to make it in my way
to visit her. AMENA was with her at the Grate, when she receiv’d me;
I know not how, among other Discourses, we hapned to talk of the fine
Gentlemen of _Paris_, which it was Impossible to do, without mentioning
Count D’ELMONT, the COUNT answer’d not this Complement as he wou’d have
done at another time, but only bowing with an humble Air, gave him
Liberty to prosecute his Discourse; the moment (resum’d he) that AMENA
heard your Name, the Tears run from her fair Eyes; in such abundance, and
she seem’d opprest with so violent a Grief, that she was not able to stay
any longer with us. When she was gone, my Sister whom she had made her
Confidant, gave me the History of her Misfortunes, and withal, told me,
that the next Day she was to be Initiated into Holy Orders: My Curiosity
engag’d me to stay at St. _Dennis_, to see the Ceremony perform’d, which
was Solemn; but not with that Magnificence which I expected; it seems it
was AMENA’S desire that it should be as private as possible, and for that
Reason, none of her Relations were there, and several of the Formalities
of Entrance omitted: After it was over, my Sister beckon’d me to come to
the Grate, where I saw her before, and Conjur’d me in the Name of her
new Sister, to give this to your Hands; in speaking these Words, he took
a Letter out of his Pocket, which the COUNT immediately opening, to his
great surprise, found it contain’d, as follows.

    To the Inhuman D’ELMONT.

    _To be pity’d by you, and that you shou’d tell me so, was all
    the recompence I ask’d for Loss of Father, Friends, Reputation,
    and Eternal Peace; but now, too late, I find that the fond
    Maid who scorns the World for Love, is sure to meet for her
    reward the scorn of him she Loves----Ungrateful Man! Cou’d you
    not spare one Moment from that long Date of Happiness, to give
    a last farewel to her you have undone? What wou’d not this
    Barbarous Contempt have drawn upon you, were I of ALOVISA’S
    Temper? Sure I am, all that disdain and rage, cou’d Inspire
    Malice with, had been Inflicted on you, but you well know my
    Soul is of a another Stamp.----Fool that I was, and little
    vers’d in the base Arts of Man, believ’d I might by tenderness,
    and faithful Friendship, gain esteem; tho’ Wit and Beauty the
    two great Provocatives to create Love were wanting. But do not
    think that I am yet so mean as to desire to hear from you; no,
    I have put all future Correspondence with you out of my Power,
    and hope to drive it even from my wish: Whether your disdain,
    or the Holy Banner I am listed under, has wrought this Effect,
    I know not, but methinks I breath another Air, think on you
    with more Tranquility, and bid you without dying,_

                                            Eternally Adieu, AMENA.

    _P.S._ Let ALOVISA know I am no more her Rival, Heaven has my
    Soul, and I forgive you both.

D’ELMONT was strangely fir’d at the reading these Lines, which left him
no Room to doubt that his Letter had miscarried, he could not presently
imagine by what means, but was resolv’d if possible, to find it out.
However, he dissembled his Thoughts ’till the Gentleman had taken his
leave; then calling for the Servant, whom he had entrusted with the
carrying it, he took him by the Throat, and holding his drawn Sword
directly to his Breast, swore that Moment should be his last, if he did
not immediately confess the Truth; the poor Fellow, frighted almost
to Death, trembling, and falling on his Knees, implor’d Forgiveness,
and discover’d all. ALOVISA who was in the next Chamber, hearing her
Husband call for that Servant, with a Tone somewhat more imperious than
what he was accustom’d to, and a great Noise soon after, imagin’d some
Accident had happen’d to betray her, and ran in to know the Certainty,
just as the _Count_ had discharg’d the Servant, at once from his Service
and his Presence. You have done well Madam (said D’ELMONT, looking on
her with Eyes sparkling with Indignation) you have done well, by your
impertinent Curiosity and Imprudence, to rouze me from my Dream of
Happiness, and remind me, that I am that wretched Thing a Husband! ’Tis
well indeed (answer’d ALOVISA, who saw now that there was no need of
farther Dissimulation) that any thing can make you remember, both what
you are, and what I am. You, (resum’d he, hastily interrupting her)
have taken an effectual Method to prove your self a Wife!----a very
Wife!----Insolent---Jealous---and Censorious!---But Madam (continued he
frowning) since you are pleas’d to assert your Priveledge, be assur’d, I
too shall take my turn, and will exert the---Husband! In saying this, he
flung out of the Room in spite of her Endeavours to hinder him, and going
hastily through a Gallery which had a large Window that looked into the
Garden, he perceived MELLIORA lying on a green Bank, in a melancholy,
but a charming Posture, directly opposite to the Place where he was; her
Beauties appear’d, if possible, more to Advantage than ever he had seen
them, or at least, he had more Opportunity thus unseen by her, to gaze
upon ’em; he in a Moment lost all the Rage of Temper he had been in, and
his whole Soul was taken up with softness; he stood for some Moments
fix’d in silent Admiration, but Love has small Dominion in a Heart, that
can content it self with a distant Prospect, and there being a Pair of
back-Stairs at the farther end of the Gallery, which led to the Garden.
He either forgot, or not regarded what Construction ALOVISA might make on
this private Interview, if by Chance, from any of the Windows she should
be Witness of it.

MELLIORA was so intent on a Book she had in her Hand, that she saw not
the _Count_ ’till he was close enough to her to discern what was the
Subject of her Entertainment, and finding it the Works of _Monsieur_
L’FONTENELLE; Philosophy, Madam, at your Age (said he to her with an Air,
which exprest surprize) is as wond’rous as your other Excellencies; but
I am confident, had this Author ever seen MELLIORA, his Sentiments had
been otherwise than now they seem to be, and he would have been able to
write of nothing else but Love and her. MELLIORA blush’d Extremely at his
unexpected Presence, and the Complement he made Her; but recollecting
her self as soon as she cou’d; I have a better Opinion of _Monsieur_
L’FONTENELLE, (answer’d she) but if I were really Mistress of as many
Charms as you wou’d make me believe, I should think my self little
beholding to Nature, for bestowing them on me, if by their means I were
depriv’d of so choice an Improvement as this Book has given me. Thank
Heaven, then Madam, (resum’d he) that you were born in an Age successive
to that which has produc’d so many fine Treatises of this kind for your
Entertainment; since (I am very Confident) this, and a long space of
future Time will have no other Theme, but that which at present you seem
so much averse to. MELLIORA found so much difficulty in endeavouring to
Conceal the disorder she was in at this Discourse, that it rendered her
unable to reply; and He, (who possibly guest the occasion of her silence)
taking one of her Hands and tenderly pressing it between his, look’d so
full in her Eyes, as heighten’d her Confusion, and discover’d to his
ravish’d View, what most he wish’d to find: Ambition, Envy, Hate, Fear,
or Anger, every other Passion that finds Entrance in the Soul; Art, and
Discretion, may Disguise, but Love, tho’ it may be feign’d, can never be
Conceal’d, not only the Eyes (those true and most Perfect Intelligencers
of the Heart) but every Feature, every Faculty betrays it! It fills the
whole Air of the Person possest with it; it wanders round the Mouth!
Plays in the Voice! trembles in the Accent! And shows it self a thousand
different, nameless ways! Even MELLIORA’S Care to hide it, made it more
apparent, and the Transported D’ELMONT not considering where he was, or
who might be a witness of his Rapture, cou’d not forbear catching her
in his Arms, and grasping her with an Extasie, which plainly told her
what his thoughts were, tho’ at that time he had not Power to put ’em
into Words; and indeed there is no greater proof of a vast and elegant
Passion, than the being uncapable of Expressing it:-----He had perhaps
held her in this strict embrace, ’till some Accident had discover’d and
separated him from her; if the Alarm this manner of Proceeding gave her
Modesty, had not made her force her self from him.---They both stood in
a silent Consternation, nor was he much less disorder’d at the Temerity,
the violence of his ungovernable Passion had made him guilty of, than
she was at the Liberty he had taken; he knew not how to Excuse, nor she,
to Reproach; Respect (the constant Attendant on a sincere Affection)
had tyed his Tongue, and shame mixed with the uncertainty after what
manner she shou’d resent it, Hers. At last, the Natural Confidence of
his Sex Encourag’d him to break this mute Entertainment,--There are
Times Madam (said he) in which the wisest have not Power over their own
Actions---If therefore I have offended, impute not the Crime to me, but
that unavoidable impulse which for a Moment hurry’d me from my self;
for be assured while D’ELMONT can Command his Thoughts, they shall be
most obedient to your Wishes----As MELLIORA was about to reply, she saw
a Servant coming hastily to speak to the COUNT, and was not a little
glad of so favourable an opportunity to retire without being oblig’d to
continue a Discourse in which she must either lay a severe Punishment on
her Inclinations by making a quarrel with him, or by forgiving him too
easily, Trespass against the strict Precepts of Virtue she had always
profess’d: She made what haste she cou’d into her chamber, and carry’d
with her a World of troubled Meditations, she now no longer doubted of
the COUNT’S Passion, and trembled with the Apprehension of what he might
in time be prompted to; but when she Reflected how dear that Person she
had so much cause to fear, was to her, she thought her self, at once the
most unfortunate and most Guilty of her Sex.

The Servant who gave ’em this seasonable Interruption delivered a Letter
to his Master, which he opening hastily, knowing that it came from his
Brother by the Seal, found the Contents as follows.

    _I hop’d (my Dearest Friend, and Brother) by this day to have
    Embrac’d you, but Fortune takes delight to disappoint our
    wishes, when highest rais’d, and nearest to their Aim.----The
    Letter I carry’d from her, whom I think it my Happiness to
    call Sister, joyn’d with my own Faith, Love, and Assiduity; at
    length Triumph’d over all the little niceties and objections
    my Charmer made against our Journey, and she Condescended to
    order every thing requisite for our departure from AMIENS
    shou’d be got ready.----But how shall I Express the Grief, the
    Horrour, the Distraction of my Soul, when the very Evening
    before the Day we shou’d have set out, as I was sitting with
    her, a sudden, but terrible Illness, like the Hand of Death
    seiz’d on her, she fell (oh! my Brother) Cold, and Speechless
    in my Arms------Guess, what I endur’d at that Afflicting
    Moment, all that I had of Man, or Reason left me; and sure
    had not the Care of the Baroness and some other Ladies (whom
    my Cries drew in to her Assistance) in a little time recover’d
    her, I had not now surviv’d to give you this Account: Again,
    I saw the Beauties of her Eyes! again, I heard her Voice, but
    her Disorder was yet so great, that it was thought convenient
    she should be put to Bed; the Baroness seeing my Despair,
    desired me not to quit her House, and by that Means I had
    News every Hour, how her Fevor encreas’d, or abated, for the
    Physicians being desir’d to deal freely, assur’d us, that was
    her Distemper: For several Days she continued in a Condition
    that could give us no Hopes of her Recovery; in which Time,
    as you may imagine, I was little capable of Writing.-----The
    wildness of my unruly Grief, made me not be permitted to come
    into her Chamber; but they cou’d not, without they had made
    use of Force, hinder me from lying at her Door: I counted all
    her Groans, heard every Sigh the Violence of her Pain drew
    from her, and watch’d the Countenance of every Person who came
    out of her Chamber, as Men who wou’d form a Judgment of future
    Consequences, do the Signs in Heaven.----But I trouble you with
    this tedious recital, she is now, if there is any Dependance
    on the Doctors Skill, past Danger, tho’ not fit to Travel,
    at least this Month, which gives no small Aleviation to the
    greatness of my Joys (which otherwise wou’d be unbounded) for
    her Recovery, since it occasions so long a Separation from the
    best of Brothers, and of Friends: Farewell, may all your Wishes
    meet Success, and an Eternal round of Happiness attend you; to
    add to mine, I beg you’ll write by the first Post, which, next
    to seeing you, is the greatest I can Taste. I am, my Lord, with
    all imaginable Tenderness and Respect, your most Affectionate
    Brother and Humble Servant,_

                                                          BRILLIAN.

The _Count_ judg’d it proper that ALOVISA shou’d see this Letter, because
it so much concern’d her Sister, and was ordering the Servant to carry
it to her, (not being himself willing to speak to her) just as she was
coming towards him: She had receiv’d a Letter from the _Baroness_ DE
BERONVILL, at the same time that the _Chevalier_ BRILLIAN’S was brought,
and was glad to take the Opportunity of Communicating the Contents of
it, in hopes by this Conversation, to be reconcil’d to her Husband: But
the gloomy Sullenness of the Humour he had left her with, return’d at
Sight of her, and after some little Discourse of Family Affairs, which
he could not avoid answering, walk’d carelesly away: She follow’d him at
a distance, ’till he was got up to the Gallery, and perceiving he went
toward his Closet, mended her Pace, and was close to him when he was
going in. My Lord, (said she) with a Voice but half assured, and which
would not have given her leave to utter more, if he had not interrupted
her, by telling her he would be alone, and shutting the Door hastily upon
her, but she prevented his Locking of it, by pushing against it with all
her Force, and he, not exerting his, for fear of hurting her, suffer’d
her Entrance: But look’d on her with a Countenance so forbidding, as in
spite of the natural Haughtiness of her Temper, and the Resolution she
had made to speak to him, render’d her unable for some Moments to bring
forth a Word; but the silent Grief, which appear’d in her Face, pleaded
more with the good Nature of the _Count_, than any thing she could have
said: He began to pity the unhappiness of her too violent Affection, and
to wish himself in a Capacity of returning it, however, he (like other
Husbands) thought it best to keep up his Resentments, and take this
Opportunity of Quelling all the _Woman_ in her Soul, and humbling all
the little Remains of Pride that Love had left her. Madam, (resum’d he)
with an Accent, which tho’ something more softned, was still imperious
enough, if you have any Thing of Consequence to impart to me, I desire
you will be as brief as you can, for I would be left to the Freedom of
my Thoughts---ALOVISA cou’d not yet answer, but letting fall a Shower
of Tears, and throwing her self on the Ground, Embrac’d his Knees with
so Passionate a Tenderness, as sufficiently exprest her Repentance for
having been guilty of any thing to disoblige him: D’ELMONT was most
sensibly touch’d at this Behaviour, so vastly different from what he
cou’d have expected from the greatness of her Spirit, and raising her
with an obliging Air. I am sorry (said he) that any thing should happen
to occasion this Submission, but since what’s past, is out of either of
our Powers to recall: I shall endeavour to think of it no more, provided
you’ll promise me, never for the future to be guilty of any thing which
may give me an uneasiness by the sight of yours----’Tis impossible to
represent the Transport of ALOVISA at this kind Expression, she hung upon
his Neck, kissed the dear Mouth which had pronounc’d her Pardon, with
Raptures of unspeakable Delight, she sigh’d with Pleasure, as before
she had done with Pain, she wept, she even dy’d with Joy!----No, no, my
Lord, my Life, my Angel, (cry’d she, as soon as she had Power to speak)
I never will Offend you more, no more be Jealous, no more be doubtful of
my Happiness! You are!--you will be only mine, I know you will----Your
kind Forgiveness of my Folly, assures me that you are mine, not more by
Duty than by Love! A Tye far more valuable than that of Marriage. The
_Count_ conscious of her Mistake, had much ado to conceal his Disorder
at these Words, and being unwilling she should proceed; as soon as he
could (without seeming unkind or rude) disingag’d himself from her Arms,
and took a Pen in his Hand, which he told her he was about to employ in
answering the _Chevalier_ BRILLIAN’S Letter; ALOVISA who now resolv’d an
entire Obedience to his Will, and remembring he had desired to be alone,
withdrew, full of the Idea of an imagin’d Felicity----Her Heart was now
at ease, she believ’d, that if her Husband had any Remains of Passion for
AMENA, the impossibility of ever seeing her again, would soon extinguish
them, and since she was so happily reconcil’d, was far from repenting her
intercepting of his Letter: But poor Lady, she did not long enjoy this
Peace of Mind, and this Interval of Tranquility serv’d but to heighten
her ensuing Miseries.

The _Count’s_ secret Passion for MELLIORA grew stronger by his
endeavouring to suppress it, and perceiving that she carefully avoided
all Opportunities of being alone with him one Moment, since his Behaviour
to her in the Garden, he grew almost Distracted with the continual
Restraint he was forc’d to put on all his Words and Actions: He durst not
Sigh nor send an amorous Glance, for fear of offending her, and alarming
his Wive’s Jealousy, so lately lull’d to Sleep: He had no Person in whom
he had Confidence enough to trust with his Misfortune, and had certainly
sunk under the Pressure of it, if ALOVISA, who observing an Alteration
in his Countenance and Humour, fearing he was really indispos’d (which
was the excuse he made for his Melancholly) had not perswaded him to go
into the Country, hoping that change of Air might do him good: He had a
very fine Seat near _Anjerville_ in the Province of _Le Beausse_, which
he had not been at for some Years, and he was very willing to comply with
ALOVISA’S Desires of passing the remainder of the Summer in a Solitude,
which was now become agreeable to him; the greatest Difficulty was, in
perswading MELLIORA to accompany them thither; he guess’d by her reserv’d
Behaviour, that she only waited an Opportunity to leave the Place where
he was, and was not mistaken in his Conjecture: One Day as they were
talking of it, she told them she was resolv’d to return to the Monastery
where she had been Educated, that the World was too noisy a Place for
one of her Taste, who had no relish for any of the Diversions of it:
Every Word she spoke, was like a Dagger to D’ELMONT’S Heart; yet, he so
artfully manag’d his Endeavours, between the Authority of a Guardian,
and the Entreaties of a Friend, that she was at last overcome. ’Tis
hard for the severest Virtue to deny themselves the Sight of the Person
belov’d, and whatever Resolutions we make, there are but few, who like
MELLIORA might not by such a Lover be prevail’d upon to break them.

As soon as their coming into the Country was spread abroad, they were
visited by all the Neighbouring People of Quality, but there was none
so welcome to D’ELMONT as the _Baron_ D’ESPERNAY; they had before the
COUNT’S going into the Army been very intimate Acquaintance, and were
equally glad of this opportunity to renew a Friendship, which Time and
Absence had not entirely erac’d. The _Baron_ had a Sister young, and very
agreeable, but gay even to Coquetry; they liv’d together, being both
single, and he brought her with him, hearing the _Count_ was Married,
to visit his Lady: There were several other young Noble Men and Ladies
there, at the same time, and the Conversation grew so delightfully
Entertaining, that it was impossible for Persons less prepossest than
the COUNT and MELLIORA, to retain their _Chagrin_; but, tho’ there were
scarce any in the Company that might not have list’ned with a pleas’d
Attention, to what those two admirable Persons were capable of saying,
yet their secret Sorrows kept them both in silence, ’till MELANTHA, for
that was the Name of the _Barons_ Sister, took upon her to divert the
Company with some Verses on Love; which she took out of her Pocket-Book
and read to ’em: Every Body extoll’d the softness of the Stile, and
the Subject they were upon. But MELLIORA who was willing to take all
opportunities of Condemning that Passion, as well to conceal it in her
self as to check what ever hopes the _Count_ might have, now discovered
the force of her Reason, the Delicacy of her Wit, and the Penetration
of her Judgment, in a manner so sweetly surprizing to all that were
Strangers to her, that they presently found, that it was not want of
Noble, and truly agreeable Thoughts or Words to express ’em, that had
so long depriv’d them of the Pleasure of hearing her; she urg’d the
Arguments she brought against the giving way to Love, and the Danger of
all softning Amusements, with such a becoming fierceness, as made every
Body of the Opinion that she was born only to create Desire, not be
susceptible of it her self. The _Count_ as he was most Concern’d, took
the most particular Notice of all she said, and was not a little alarm’d
to see her appear so much in earnest, but durst not answer, or Endeavour
to confute her, because of ALOVYSA’S presence: But it was not long before
he had an opportunity, a few Days after he met with one, as full as he
cou’d wish. Returning one Evening from the _Baron_ D’ESPERNAY’S, whom he
had now made the Confident of his Passion, and who had Encourag’d him in
it, he was told that ALOVYSA was gone out to take the Air, and hearing
no mention of MELLIORA’S being with her, he stay’d not to enquire, but
running directly to her Chamber, made his Eyes his best Informers: He
found her lying on a Couch in a most charming Dissabillee, she had but
newly come from Bathing, and her Hair unbraided, hung down upon her
Shoulders with a negligence more Beautiful than all the Aids of Art cou’d
form in the most exact _Decorum_ of Dress; part of it fell upon her Neck
and Breast, and with it’s Lovely Shadiness, being of a Delicate dark
Brown, set off to vast Advantage, the matchless whiteness of her Skin:
Her Gown and the rest of her Garments were white, and all ungirt, and
loosely flowing, discover’d a Thousand Beauties, which Modish Formalities
conceal. A Book lay open by her, on which she had reclin’d her Head, as
if been tir’d with Reading, she Blush’d at sight of the _Count_, and
rose from off the Couch with a Confusion which gave new Lustre to her
Charms, but he not permitting her to stir from the place she was in, sat
down by Her, and casting his Eyes on the Book which lay there, found it
to be _Ovid’s-Epistles_, How Madam (cry’d he, not a little pleas’d with
the Discovery) dare you, who the other Day so warmly inveigh’d against
Writings of this Nature, trust your self with so Dangerous an Amusement?
How happens it, that you are so suddenly come over to our Party? Indeed
my Lord (answer’d she, growing more disorder’d) it was Chance rather than
Choice, that directed this Book to my Hands, I am yet far from approving
Subjects of this Kind, and believe I shall be ever so: Not that I can
perceive any Danger in it, as to my self, the Retirement I have always
liv’d in, and the little Propensity I find to entertain a Thought of that
uneasie Passion, has hitherto secur’d me from any Prepossession, without
which, _Ovid_’s Art is Vain. Nay, Madam, reply’d the _Count_, now you
Contradict your former Argument, which was, that these sort of Books
were, as it were, Preparatives to Love, and by their softning Influence,
melted the Soul, and made it fit for amorous Impressions, and so far, you
certainly were in the right, for when once the Fancy is fixed on a real
Object, there will be no need of Auxillary Forces, the Dear Idea will
spread it self thro’ every Faculty of the Soul, and in a Moment inform
us better, than all the Writings of the most Experienc’d Poets, cou’d do
in an Age. Well, my Lord, (said she endeavouring to Compose her self) I
am utterly unambitious of any Learning this way, and shall endeavour to
retain in Memory, more of the Misfortunes that attended the Passion of
_Sappho_, than the Tender, tho’ never so Elegant Expressions it produc’d:
And if all Readers of Romances took this Method, the Votaries of _Cupid_
wou’d be fewer, and the Dominion of Reason more Extensive. You speak
(Answer’d D’ELMONT) as tho’ Love and Reason were Incompatible, there is
no Rule (said she) my Lord, without Exception, they are indeed sometimes
united, but how often they are at Variance, where may we not find Proofs,
History is full of them, and daily Examples of the many Hair-brain’d
Matches, and slips, much less excusable, sufficiently evince how little
Reason has to do in the Affairs of Love, I mean (continu’d she, with a
very serious Air) that sort of Love, for there are two, which hurries
People on to an immediate Gratification of their Desires, tho’ never so
prejudicial to themselves, or the Person they pretend to Love. Pray Madam
(said the _Count_ a little nettled at this Discourse) what Love is that
which seems at least to Merit the Approbation of a Lady so extreamly
nice? It has many Branches (reply’d she) in the first Place that which we
owe to Heaven, in the next to our King, our Country, Parents, Kindred,
Friends, and Lastly, that which Fancy inclines, and Reason guides us to,
in a Partner for Life, but here every Circumstance must agree, Parity
of Age, of Quality, of Fortune, and of Humour, Consent of Friends, and
Equal Affection in each other, for if any one of these particulars fail,
it renders all the rest of no Effect. Ah, Madam (cry’d the _Count_ not
able to suffer her to proceed). What share of Pity then can you afford to
a Man who, loves where almost all these Circumstances are wanting, and
what Advice wou’d you give a wretch so Curst? I wou’d have him _think_,
(said she more Gravely than before) How Madam, (resum’d he) think did
you say? Alas! ’Tis Thought that has undone him, that’s very possible
(answer’d she) but yet ’tis want of thinking justly, for in a Lovers Mind
Illusions seem Realities, and what at an other time wou’d be look’d on
as Impossible, appears easie then: They indulge, and feed their new-born
Folly with a prospect of a Hope, tho’ ne’re so distant a one, and in the
vain pursuit of it, fly Consideration, ’till dispair starts up in the
midway, and bar’s their promis’d View; whereas if they gave way to due
Reflection, the Vanity of the Attempt wou’d presently be shown, and the
same cause that bid ’em cease to hope, wou’d bid ’em cease to wish: Ah
Madam (said he) how little do you know of that Passion, and how easily
cou’d I disprove you by the Example of my Friend; despair and Love are
of an equal Age in him, and from the first Moment he beheld his Adorable
Charmer, he has Languished without the least mixture of a flattering
Hope. I Grant the Flames with which our Modern Gallants are ordinarily
animated, cannot long subsist without Fewel, but where Love is kindled
in a Generous Heart by a just Admiration of the real Merits of the Object
belov’d, Reason goes Hand in Hand with it, and makes it lasting as our
Life. In my Mind (answer’d MELLIORA Coldly) an Esteem so Grounded may
more properly be ascribed to Friendship, then be it so Madam, (rejoyn’d
the _Count_ briskly) Friendship and Love, where either are sincere, vary
but little in their meaning, there may indeed be some Distinctions in
their Ceremonies, but their Essentials are still the same: And if the
Gentleman I speak of were so happy as to hope his Friendship wou’d be
acceptable, I dare promise that he never wou’d complain his Love were
not so. You have a strange way (said she) to Confound Idea’s, which in
my Opinion are so vastly different, that I shou’d make no Difficulty in
granting my Friendship to as many of my Acquaintance, as had Merit to
deserve it; but if I were to Love in that general Manner, ’twould be a
Crime wou’d justly render me Contemptible to Mankind: Madam (replyed the
_Count_) when I spoke of the Congruity of Love and Friendship, I did
not mean that sort, which to me, seems unworthy of the Name of either,
but that Exalted one, which made _Orestes_ and _Pilades_, _Theseus_ and
_Perithous_ so Famous. That, which has no Reserve, no separate Interest,
or divided Thoughts, That which fills all,----gives all the Soul, and
esteems even Life a Trifle, to prove it self sincere----What can Love
do more than yield every thing to the object Belov’d? And Friendship
must do so too, or it is not Friendship! Therefore take heed fair
Angel (continu’d he, taking her Hand, and kissing it) how you Promise
Friendship, where you ne’re mean to Love: And observing she was Silent,
your Hand, (said he) your Lip, your Neck, your Breast, your All.----All
this whole Heaven of Beauty must be no longer in your own Disposal----All
is the Prize of Friendship! As much Confus’d as MELLIORA was, at these
Words, which gave her sufficient Reason to fear he wou’d now declare
himself more fully than she desir’d; she had Spirit and Resolution
enough to withdraw her Hand from his, and with a look, that spoke her
Meaning but too plainly for the repose of the Enamour’d D’ELMONT: I shall
take care my Lord (said she) how I Commence a Friendship with any Person
who shall make use of it to my Prejudice.

The _Count_ was now sensible of his Error in going so far, and fearing he
had undone himself in her Esteem by his rash Proceeding, thought it was
best at once to throw off a Disguise which, in spight of his Endeavours
wou’d fall off, of itself, and by making a bold and free Confession of
his real Sentiments, oblige her to a Discovery of hers.----I do not
doubt your Caution, Madam, (answer’d he) in this point: Your Reserved
Behaviour, even to me, convinces me, but too fully, how little you are
disposed to give, or receive any Proofs of Friendship: But perhaps
(continu’d he, with a deep sigh) my too presuming Eyes have rendred me a
suspected Person, and while you find in me the Wretch I have discrib’d,
you find nothing in me worthy of a happier Fortune; you are worthy every
thing my Lord, (said MELLIORA quite beside her self at these Words) nor
are you less happy than you deserve to be, and I wou’d rather that these
Eyes shou’d loose their sight than view you otherwise than now I see
you, blest in every Circumstance, the Darling of the World, the Idol of
the Court, and Favourite of Heaven! Oh stop! (Cry’d D’ELMONT hastily
Interrupting her) forbear to Curse me farther, rather Command my Death,
than wish the Continuance of my present Miseries. Cruel MELLIORA too
well, alas, you know what I have endur’d from the first fatal Moment I
beheld you, and only feign an Ignorance to distract me more: A Thousand
times you have read my Rising wishes, sparkling in my Eyes, and glowing
on my Cheeks, as often seen my Virtue struggling in silent Tremblings,
and Life-wasting Anguish to suppress desire. Nay, Madam (said he
Catching fast hold of both her Hands, seeing her about to rise) by all
my sleepless Nights, and restless Days, by all my countless burning
Agonies; by all the Torments of my gall’d, bleeding Heart, I swear,
that you shall hear me: I have heard too much (cry’d MELLIORA not able
to contain her self) and tho’ I am unwilling to believe you have any
farther aim in this Discourse than your Diversion, yet I must tell your
Lordship, that there are Themes more proper for it, than the Daughter
of your Friend, who was entrusted to your Care with a far different
Opinion of your Behaviour to her. What have I done (resum’d the almost
the Distracted _Count_, falling at her Feet, and grasping her Knees) what
have I done, Inhuman MELLIORA! To deserve this Rigour? My Honour has
hitherto prevail’d above desire, fierce, and raging as it is, nor had I
any other hopes by making this Declaration, than to meet that pity my
Misfortunes merit; and you cannot without Ingratitude deny: Pity, even
to Criminals is allow’d, and sure, where the offence is unvoluntary,
like mine, ’tis due: ’Tis impossible to guess the Conflict in MELLIORA’S
Breast at this Instant, she had heard a most Passionate Declaration of
Love from a married Man, and by Consequence, whatever his Pretences were,
cou’d look on his Designs no otherwise than aim’d at the Destruction
of her Honour, and was fir’d with a virtuous Indignation. But then she
saw in this married Man, the only Person in the World, who was capable
of Inspiring her with a tender Thought, she saw him reduc’d to the last
Extremity of Despair for her sake: She heard his sighs, she felt his
Tremblings as he held her, and cou’d not refrain shedding some Tears,
both for him, and for her self, who indeed suffer’d little less; but
the _Count_ was not so happy as to be Witness of this Testimony of her
Compassion: He had reclin’d his Head on her Lap, possibly to hide those
that forc’d their way thro’ his Eyes, at the same time; and ALOVISA’S
Voice which they heard below, giving them both an Alarm; they had no
further opportunity for Speech, and the _Count_ was but just gone out of
the Room, and MELLIORA laid on the Couch in the same careless Possture
which he had found her in; when ALOVISA enter’d the Chamber, and after
having a little pleasantly Reproach’d her, for being so lazy as not to
accompany her in the Walk she had been taking, ask’d her if she had not
seen the _Count_, who she had been told was come home: Poor MELLIORA
had much ado to conceal the Disorder she was in at this Question, but
recovering her self as well as she could, answer’d in the Affirmative;
but that he had not staid there longer than to enquire where she was
gone, and that she knew not but he might be gone in search of her: This
was enough to make ALOVISA take her leave, impatient for the Sight of her
dear Lord, a Happiness she had not enjoy’d since Morning, but she was
disappointed of her Hope. The _Count_, as late as it was in the Evening,
went into his Chaise, which had not been set up since he came from the
_Baron_ D’ESPERNAY’S and drove thither again with all the Speed he could.

The _Baron_ was extreamly surpriz’d at his sudden Return, and with so
much Confusion and Melancholy in his Countenance. But much more so, when
he had given him an Account of what had pass’d between him and MELLIORA
and cou’d not forbear rallying him excessively on the Occasion. What,
said he, a Man of Wit, and Pleasure like _Count_ D’ELMONT a Man, who
knows the Sex so well, could he let slip so favourable an Opportunity
with the finest Woman in the World; One, for whose Enjoyment he wou’d
Die.----Cou’d a Frown, or a little angry Coyness, (which ten to one was
but affected) have Power to freeze such fierce Desires. The _Count_ was
not at present in a Humour to relish this Merriment, he was too seriously
in Love to bear that any thing relating to it, should be turn’d into
Ridicule, and was far from repenting he had done no more, since what
he had done, had occasion’d her Displeasure: But the _Baron_, who had
Designs in his Head, which he knew cou’d not by any means be brought
to succeed, but by keeping the _Count’s_ Passion warm, made Use of all
the Artifice he was Master of, to embolden this respective Lover, to
the Gratification of his Wishes: And growing more grave than he had
been, My Lord, said he, you do not only injure the Dignity of our Sex in
general, but your own Merits in particular, and perhaps even MELLIORA’S
secret Inclinations, by this unavailing distant Carriage: and causeless
Despair.----Have you not confess’d that she has look’d on you with a
Tenderness, like that of Love, that she has blush’d at your Sight, and
trembled at your Touch?----What would you more that she should do, or
what indeed, can she do more, in Modesty, to prove her Heart is yours?
A little Resolution on your side would make her all yours----Women are
taught by Custom to deny what most they covet, and to seem Angry, when
they are best Pleas’d; believe me, D’ELMONT, that the most rigid Virtue
of ’em all, never yet hated a Man for those Faults, which Love occasions:
All this answer’d the _Count_, is what I readily agree to:---But O her
Father’s Memory! My Obligation to him! Her Youth and Innocence are
Daggers to my cool Reflections---Wou’d it not be Pity (_D’espernay!_
continued he with a deep Sigh) even if she shou’d consent, to ruin so
much Sweetness? The _Baron_ could not forbear laughing at these Words,
and the _Count_ who had started these Objections, only with the Hope of
having them remov’d, easily suffer’d himself to be perswaded to follow
his Inclinations; and it was soon concluded betwixt them, that on the
first Opportunity, MELLIORA should fall a Sacrifice to Love.

The _Count_ came not Home ’till the next Morning, and brought the _Baron_
with him, for they were now become inseparable Friends: At his return, he
found ALOVISA in a very ill Humour for his being abroad all Night, and
in spite of the Resolution she had made of shewing a perfect Resignation
to her Husband’s Will, could not forbear giving him some Hints, how
unkindly she took it, which he but little regarded, all his Thoughts
were now bent on the gaining MELLIORA. But that Lady alarm’d at his late
Behaviour, and with Reason, doubting her own Power of resenting it as she
ought, or indeed resisting any future Attempts he might make, feign’d the
necessity of performing some private Rules of Devotion, enjoyn’d her as a
Pennance, and kept her Chamber that she might not see him.

The Disquietudes of D’ELMONT for being forc’d to live, but for three
or four Days without the happiness of beholding her, convinc’d him how
impossible it was for him to overcome his Passion, tho’ he should never
so vigorously endeavour it, and that whatever Method he shou’d make use
of to satisfy it, might be excus’d by the Necessity.

What is it that a Lover cannot accomplish when Resolution is on his Side?
D’ELMONT after having formed a Thousand fruitless Inventions, at last
pitch’d on One, which promis’d him an assurance of Success: In MELLIORA’S
Chamber there was a little Door that open’d to a Pair of Back Stairs,
for the Convenience of the Servants coming to clean the Room, and at the
Bottom of that Descent, a Gate into the Garden. The _Count_ set his Wits
to work, to get the Keys of those two Doors; that of the Garden stood
always in it, nor cou’d he keep it without its being miss’d at Night,
when they shou’d come to fasten the Gate, therefore he carefully took
the Impression in Wax, and had one made exactly like it: The other he
cou’d by no means compass without making some excuse to go to MELLIORA’S
Chamber, and she had desired that none might visit her: But he overcome
this Bar to his Design at last; there was a Cabinet in it, where he told
ALOVISA he had put some Papers of great Concern, which now he wanted to
look over, and desired she would make an Apology for his coming in, to
fetch them. MELLIORA imagin’d this was only a Pretence to see her, but
his Wife being with him, and he saying nothing to her, or taking any
further notice than what common Civility required, was not much troubled
at it. While ALOVISA was paying a Complement to the Recluse, he was
dext’rous enough to slip the Key out of the Door, unperceiv’d by either
of them.

As soon as he had got the Passport to his expected Joys in his
Possession, he order’d a couple of Saddle Horses to be made ready, and
only attended by one Servant, rid out, as if to take the Air; but when
they were got about two or three Miles from his House, Commanded him to
return and tell his Lady, that he should lye that Night at the _Baron_
D’ESPERNAY’S, the Fellow obey’d, and clapping Spurs to his Horse, was
immediately lost in a Cloud of Dust.

D’ELMONT had sent this Message to prevent any of the Family sitting
up expecting him, and instead of going to the _Barons_, turn’d short,
and went to _Angerville_, where meeting with some Gentlemen of his
Acquaintance, he pass’d the Hours ’till between Twelve and One, as
pleasantly as his Impatience to be with MELLIORA would give him leave:
He had not much above a Furlong to ride, and his Desires made him not
spare his Horse, which he ty’d by the Bridle, hot and foaming as he was,
to a huge Oak, which grew pretty near his Garden; it was incompass’d
only with a Hedge, and that so low, that he got over it without any
Difficulty; he look’d carefully about him, and found no Tell-tale Lights
in any of the Rooms, and concluding all was as hush’d as he cou’d wish,
open’d the first Door, but the encreasing Transports of his Soul, as he
came up Stairs, to be so near the end of all his Wishes, are more easily
imagin’d than express’d; but as violent as they were, they presently
receiv’d a vast Addition, when he came into the happy Chamber, and by a
most delightfull Gloom, a Friend to Lovers, (for it was neither Dark nor
Light), he beheld the lovely MELLIORA in her Bed, and fast asleep, her
Head was reclin’d on one of her Arms; a Pillow softer and whiter far than
that it lean’d on, the other was stretch’d out, and with its extension
had thrust down the Bed-cloths so far, that all the Beauties of her Neck
and Breast appear’d to View. He took an inexpressible Pleasure in gazing
on her as she lay, and in this silent Contemplation of her thousand
Charms, his Mind was agitated with various Emotions, and the resistless
Posture he beheld her in, rouz’d all that was honourable in him, he
thought it Pity even to wake her, but more to wrong such Innocence; and
he was sometimes prompted to return and leave her as he found her.

But whatever Dominion, Honour and Virtue may have over our waking
Thoughts, ’tis certain that they fly from the clos’d Eyes, our Passions
then exert their forceful Power, and that which is most Predominant in
the Soul, agitates the Fancy, and brings even Things impossible to pass:
Desire, with watchful Diligence repell’d, returns with greater Violence
in unguarded Sleep, and overthrows the vain Efforts of Day. MELLIORA in
spite of her self, was often happy in Idea, and possess’d a Blessing
which Shame and Guilt deter’d her from in reality. Imagination at this
Time was active, and brought the charming Count much nearer than indeed
he was, and he, stooping to the Bed, and gently laying his Face close
to hers, (possibly designing no more than to steal a Kiss from her,
unperceiv’d) that Action concurring at that Instant with her Dream, made
her throw her Arm (still slumbering) about his Neck, and in a soft and
languishing Voice, cry out, O! D’ELMONT, cease, cease to Charm, to such a
height----Life cannot bear these Raptures!---And then again Embracing him
yet closer,---O! too, too lovely _Count_---Extatick Ruiner!

Where was now the Resolution he was forming some Moments before? If he
had now left her, some might have applauded an Honour so uncommon, but
more wou’d have condemn’d his Stupidity, for I believe there are very
few Men, how Stoical soever they pretend to be, that in such a tempting
Circumstance would not have lost all Thoughts, but those, which the
present Opportunity inspir’d. That he did, is most certain, for he tore
open his Wastecoat, and joyn’d his panting Breast to hers, with such a
tumultuous Eagerness! Seiz’d her with such a rapidity of transported
Hope-crown’d Passion, as immediately wak’d her from an imaginary
Felicity, to the Approaches of a solid one. Where have I been (said she,
just opening her Eyes) where am I?---(And then coming more perfectly
to her self) Heaven! What’s this?--I am D’ELMONT (cry’d the o’erjoy’d
_Count_) the happy D’ELMONT! MELLIORA’S, the charming MELLIORA’S
D’ELMONT! Oh, all ye Saints, (resum’d the surpriz’d, trembling Fair) ye
ministring Angels! Whose Business it is to guard the Innocent! Protect
and shield my Virtue! O! say, how came you here, my Lord? Love, said
he, Love that does all, that Wonder-working Power has sent me here, to
charm thee, sweet Resister, into yielding. O! hold, (cry’d she, finding
he was proceeding to Liberties, which her Modesty could not allow of)
forbear, I do conjure you, even by that Love you plead, before my Honour
I’ll resign my Life! Therefore, unless you wish to see me dead, a Victim
to your cruel, fatal Passion, I beg you to desist, and leave me:---I
cannot---must not (answer’d he, growing still more bold) what, when I
have thee thus! Thus naked in my Arms, trembling, defenceless, yielding,
panting with equal Wishes, thy Love confess’d, and every Thought, Desire!
What could’st thou think if I should leave thee? How justly would’st
thou scorn my easy Tameness; my Dulness, unworthy the Name of Lover, or
even of Man!--Come, come, no more Reluctance (continued he, gathering
Kisses from her soft Snowy Breast at every Word) Damp not the Fires thou
hast rais’d with seeming Coyness! I know thou art mine! All mine! And
thus I--yet think (said she, interrupting him, and struggling in his
Arms) think what ’tis that you wou’d do; nor, for a Moment’s Joy, hazard
your Peace for ever. By Heaven, cry’d he, I will this Night be Master of
my Wishes, no matter what to Morrow may bring forth: As soon as he had
spoke these Words, he put it out of her Power either to deny or reproach
him, by stopping her Mouth with Kisses, and was just on the Point of
making good what he had vow’d, when a loud knocking at the Chamber Door,
put a stop to his beginning Extacy, and chang’d the sweet Confusion
MELLIORA had been in, to all the Horrors, of a Shame and Guilt-distracted
Apprehension: They made no Doubt but that it was ALOVISA, and that they
were betray’d; the _Count’s_ greatest Concern was for MELLIORA, and the
Knocking still continuing louder, all he cou’d do in this Exigence,
was to make his Escape the Way he came: There was no time for taking
leave, and he could only say, perceiving she was ready to faint with
her Fears-----Be comforted my Angel, and resolute in your Denials, to
whatever Questions the natural Insolence of a Jealous Wife may provoke
mine to ask you; and we shall meet again (if D’ELMONT survives this
Disappointment) without Danger, of so quick, so curst a Separation.
MELLIORA was in too much Distraction to make any Answer to what he said,
and he had left the Room some Moments, before she cou’d get Spirit enough
to ask who was at the Door? But when she did, was as much surpriz’d
to find it was MELANTHA, who desir’d to be let in, as before she was
frighted at the Belief it was ALOVISA, however, she immediately slipt on
her Night-Gown and Slippers, and open’d the Door.

You are a sound Sleeper indeed (Cry’d MELANTHA laughing) that all the
Noise I have made cou’d not wake you. I have not been all this time
asleep (answer’d MELLIORA) but not knowing you were in the House, cou’d
not imagine who it was that gave me this Disturbance. I heartily ask your
Pardon (said MELANTHA) and I know, my Dear, you are too good Natur’d to
refuse it me, especially when you know the Occasion, which is so very
Whimsical, that as grave as you are, you cannot help being diverted with
it----But come (continu’d she) get on your Cloaths, for you must go
along with me. Where, said MELLIORA, Nay, nay, ask no Questions (resum’d
MELANTHA) but make haste, every Minute that we Idle away here, loses us
the Diversion of an Age. As she spoke these Words, she fell into such an
excessive Laughter, that MELLIORA thought her Mad, but being far from
Sympathizing in her Gaiety; it has always (said she) been hitherto my
Custom to have some Reason for what I do, tho’ in never so trifling an
Affair, and you must excuse me, if I do not break it now. Pish (cry’d
MELANTHA) you are of the oddest Temper,----but I will give you your Way
for once,-----provided you’ll get your self ready in the mean time. I
shall certainly put on my Cloaths (said MELLIORA) lest I should take
cold, for I expect you’ll not permit me to sleep any more this Night.
You may be sure of it (rejoyn’d MELANTHA.) But to the Purpose,-----You
must know, having an Hour or two on my hands, I came this Evening to
visit ALOVYSA, and found her in the strangest Humour!----Good God! What
unaccountable Creatures these married Women are?----her Husband it seems
had sent her Word that he wou’d lye at my Brothers, and the poor loving
Soul cou’d not bear to live a Night without him. I stay’d to condole
with her, (tho’ on my Life, I cou’d scarce forbear Laughing in her Face)
’till it was too late to go Home.----About twelve a Clock she yawn’d,
stretch’d, and grew most horridly out of Temper; rail’d at Mankind
prodigiously, and curs’d Matrimony as heartily as one of Fourscore cou’d
do, that had been twice a Widow, and was left a Maid!----With much
ado, I made her Women thrust her into Bed, and retired to a Chamber
which they shew’d me, but I had no Inclination to sleep, I remember’d
my self of five or six _Billet-Doux_ I had to answer,----a Lover, that
growing foolishly troublesome, I have some thoughts of discharging to
Morrow----Another that I design to Countenance, to pique a third----a new
Suit of Cloaths, and Trimmings for the next Ball----Half a hundred new
Songs---and---a thousand other Affairs of the utmost Consequence to a
young Lady, came into my Head in a Moment; and the Night being extreamly
pleasant, I set the Candle in the Chimney, open’d the Window, and fell
to considering---But I had not been able to come to a conclusion what I
should do in any one thing I was thinking of, before I was interrupted
in my Cogitations, with a noise of something rushing hastily thro’ the
Myrtles under my Window, and presently after, saw it was a Man going
hastily along toward the great Alley of the Garden.----At first I was
going to cry out and Alarm the Family, taking it for a Thief; But,
Dear MELLIORA, how glad am I that I did not?----For who do you think,
when I look’d more heedfully, I perceiv’d it was? Nay, how should I
know? (cry’d MELLIORA peevishly, fearing the _Count’s_ Inadvertency
had expos’d himself and her to this foolish Woman’s Curiosity) It was
_Count_ D’ELMONT (resum’d MELANTHA) I’ll lay my Life, that he has been
on some Intreague to Night: And met with a Disappointment in it, by his
quick Return.---But prithee make hast, for I long to rally him about
it. What wou’d you do Madam? (said MELLIORA) you wou’d not sure go to
him? Yes, (answer’d MELANTHA): I will go down into the Garden, and so
shall you.---I know you have a back Way from your Chamber---Therefore
lay aside this unbecoming Demureness, and let us go, and talk him to
Death. You may do as you please, (said MELLIORA) but for my part, I am
for no such Frolicks. Was ever any thing so young, so Formal as you are!
(Rejoyn’d MELANTHA) but I am resolv’d to Teaze you out of a humour so
directly opposite to the _Beau-Monde_, and, if you will not Consent to go
down with me: I will fetch him up to your Chamber----Hold! Hold, (cry’d
MELLIORA perceiving she was going) what do you mean, for Heavens sake
stay, what will ALOVYSA think?---I care not, reply’d the other; I have
set my Heart on an hours Diversion with him and will not be baulk’d,
if the repose of the World, much less, that of a Jealous, silly Wife,
depended on it.

MELLIORA saw into the Temper of this Capricious young Lady too well not
to believe she wou’d do, as she had said, and perhaps, was not over
willing to venture her with the _Count_ alone, at that Time of Night,
and in the Humour she knew he was, therefore putting on an Air more
chearful than that she was Accustom’d to wear, well (said she) I will
Accompany you into the Garden, since it will so much oblige you; but if
the _Count_ be wise, he will, by quitting the Place, as soon as he sees
us, disappoint you worse than I shou’d have done, if I had kept you here.
With these Words she took her by the Hand, and they went down the Stairs,
where the _Count_ was but just past before them.

He had not Power to go away, without knowing who it was, that had given
him that Interruption, and had stood all this Time, on the upper Step
behind the inner Door. His Vexation, and Disdain when he heard it was
MELANTHA gave him as much Pain, as his Concern while he believ’d it
ALOVYSA, and he cou’d not forbear muttering a thousand Curses on her
Impertinence. He always despis’d, but now abhor’d her: She had behav’d
her self to him in a Fashion, as made him sufficiently Sensible she was
desirous of engaging him, and he resolv’d to Mortifie by the bitterest
Slights, both her Pride, and Love, if ’tis proper, to call that sort of
liking which Agitates the Soul of _Coquet_, by that Name.

The Ladies walk’d in the Garden for some time, and MELANTHA search’d
every Bush, before she found the _Count_ who stood Conceal’d in the
Porch, which being cover’d with _Jessamin_, and _Fillaree_, was Dark
enough to hide him from their View, tho’ they had pass’d close to him
as they came out. He had certainly remain’d there ’till Morning, and
disappointed MELANTHA’S search in part of the Revenge he ow’d her, if his
Desires to be with MELLIORA, on any Terms, had not prevail’d, even above
his Anger to the other. But he cou’d not see that Charmer of his Soul,
and imagine there might be yet an opportunity that Night of stealing a
Kiss from her (now he believ’d resistless Lips) of Touching her Hand!
Her Breast! And repeating some farther Freedoms which his late Advantage
over her had given him, without being fill’d with Wishes too Fiery and
too Impatient to be restrain’d. He watch’d their turning, and when he saw
that they were near an Ally which had another that led to it, he went
round and met them.

MELANTHA was overjoy’d at sight of him, and MELLIORA, tho’ equally
pleas’d, was Cover’d with such a Confusion, at the Remembrance of what
had pass’d, that it was happy for her that her Companion’s Volubility
gave her no room for Speech. There is nothing more certain, than that
Love, tho’ it fills the mind with a thousand charming Ideas, which those
untouch’d by that Passion, are not capable of conceiving, yet it entirely
takes away the Power of Utterance, and the deeper Impression it had
made on the Soul, the less we are able to express it, when willing to
indulge and give a loose to Thought; what Language can furnish us with
Words sufficient, all are too poor, all wanting both in Sublimity, and
Softness, and only Fancy! A lovers Fancy! can reach the Exalted soaring
of a Lovers Meaning! But, if so impossible to be Describ’d, if of so
Vast, so Wonderful a Nature as nothing but it’s self can Comprehend, how
much more impossible must it be, entirely to conceal it! What Strength of
boasted Reasons? What Force of Resolution? What modest Fears, or cunning
Artifice can correct the Fierceness of its fiery Flashes in the Eyes,
keep down the struggling Sighs, command the Pulse, and bid trembling
cease? Honour and Virtue may distance Bodies, but there is no Power
in either of those Names, to stop the Spring, that with a rapid Whirl
transports us from our selves, and darts our Souls into the Bosom of the
darling Object. This may seem strange to many, even of those who call,
and perhaps believe that they are Lovers, but the few who have Delicacy
enough to feel what I but imperfectly attempt to speak, will acknowledge
it for Truth, and pity the Distress of MELLIORA.

As they were passing thro’ a Walk of Trees on each Side, whose
intermingling Boughs made a friendly Darkness, and every thing
Undistinguishable, the Amorous D’ELMONT throwing his eager Arms round the
Waist of his (no less transported) MELLIORA, and Printing burning Kisses
on her Neck, reap’d painful Pleasure, and created in her a racking kind
of Extasie, which might perhaps, had they been now alone, prov’d her
Desires were little different from his.

After MELANTHA had vented part of the Raillery, she was so big with, on
the _Count_, which he but little regarded, being wholly taken up with
other Thoughts, she propos’d, going into the Wilderness, which was at
the farther end of the Garden, and they readily agreeing to it. Come, my
Lord, (said she) to the _Count_, you are Melancholly, I have thought of a
way which will either indulge the Humour you are in, or divert it, as you
shall chuse: There are several little Paths in this Wilderness, let us
take each a separate one, and when we meet, which shall be here, where we
part, agree to tell an entertaining Story, which, whoever fails in, shall
be doom’d to the Punishment of being left here all Night: The _Count_
at these Words, forgot all his Animosity, and was ready to hug her for
this Proposal. MELLIORA did a little oppose it; but the others were too
Powerful, and she was forc’d to submit: Thou art the dullest Creature,
I’ll lay my Life, (my Lord, cry’d MELANTHA, taking hold of the Count in a
gay manner) that it falls to her Lot to stay in the Wilderness. Oh Madam,
(reply’d the _Count_) you are too severe, we ought always to suspend our
Judgment ’till after the Tryal, which I confess my self so pleas’d with,
that I am Impatient for its coming on: Well then, (said she, laughing)
farewel for half an Hour. Agreed (cry’d the _Count_) and walk’d away:
MELANTHA saw which way he went, and took another Path, leaving MELLIORA
to go forward in that, in which they were, but I believe the Reader will
easily imagine that she was not long to enjoy the Priviledge of her
Meditations.

After the _Count_ had gone some few Paces, he planted himself behind
a Thicket, which, while it hid him, gave the Opportunity of observing
them, and when he found the Coast clear, rush’d out, and with unhurting
Gripe, seiz’d once more on the unguarded Prey. Blest turn of Fortune,
(said he in a Rapture,) Happy, happy Moment!---Lost, lost MELLIORA, (said
she) most unhappy Maid!---Oh why, my Lord, this quick Return? This is no
Place to answer thee, (resum’d he, taking her in his Arms, and bearing
her behind that Thicket, where he himself had stood) ’twas in vain for
her to resist, if she had had the Power over her Inclinations, ’till he,
sitting her softly down, and beginning to Caress her in the manner he
had done when she was in Bed, she assum’d Strength enough to raise her
self a little, and catching hold of his Transgressing Hands, laid her
Face on them, and Bath’d them in a shower of Tears: O! D’ELMONT (said
she) Cruel D’ELMONT! Will you then take Advantage of my Weakness? I
confess I feel for you, a Passion, far beyond all, that yet, ever bore
the Name of Love, and that I can no longer withstand the too powerful
Magick of your Eyes, nor deny any Thing that charming Tongue can ask; but
now’s the Time to prove your self the Heroe! subdue your self, as you
have Conquer’d me! be satisfied with Vanquishing my Soul, fix there your
Throne, but leave my Honour free! Life of my Life (cry’d he) wound me no
more by such untimely Sorrows: I cannot bear thy Tears, by Heaven they
sink into my Soul, and quite unman me, but tell me (continu’d he tenderly
Kissing her) coud’st thou, with all this Love, this charming----something
more than softness-----cou’dst thou I say, consent to see me Pale and
Dead, stretch’d at thy Feet, consum’d with inward Burnings, rather than
blest, than rais’d by Love, and thee, to all a Deity in thy Embraces?
For O! Believe me when I swear, that ’tis impossible to live without
thee. No more, no more (said she letting her Head fall gently on his
Breast) too easily I guess thy sufferings by my own. But yet, D’ELMONT
’tis better to die in Innocence, than to live in Guilt. O! Why (Resum’d
he, sighing as if his Heart wou’d burst) shou’d what we can’t avoid,
be call’d a Crime? Be Witness for me Heaven! How much I have struggl’d
with this rising Passion, even to Madness struggl’d!---but in vain, the
mounting Flame blazes the more, the more I wou’d suppress it---my very
Soul’s on Fire---I cannot bear it---Oh MELLIORA! Didst thou but know the
thousandth Part, of what this Moment I endure, the strong Convulsions of
my warring Thoughts, thy Heart steel’d as it is, and Frosted round with
Virtue, wou’d burst it’s icy Shield, and melt in Tears of Blood, to pity
me. Unkind and Cruel! (answer’d she) do I not partake them then?----Do
I not bear, at least, an equal share in all your Agonies? Have---you
no Charms---or have not I a Heart?---A most susceptible and tender
Heart?----Yes, you may feel it Throb, it beats against my Breast, like
an Imprison’d Bird, and fain wou’d burst it’s Cage! to fly to you, the
aim of all it’s Wishes!--Oh D’ELMONT!--With these Words she sunk wholly
into his Arms unable to speak more: Nor was he less dissolv’d in Rapture,
both their Souls seem’d to take Wing together, and left their Bodies
Motionless, as unworthy to bear a part in their more elevated Bliss.

But D’ELMONT at his returning Sense, repenting the Effects of the violent
Transport, he had been in was now, preparing to take from the resistless
MELLIORA, the last, and only remaining Proof that she was all his own,
when MELANTHA (who had contriv’d this separation only with a Design to be
alone with the _Count_, and had carefully observ’d which way he took) was
coming towards them. The rustling of her Cloaths among the Bushes, gave
the disappointed Couple leave to rise from the Posture they were in, and
MELLIORA to abscond behind a Tree, before she could come near enough to
discern who was there.

MELANTHA, as soon as she saw the _Count_, put on an Air, of Surprize, as
if it were but by Chance, that she was come into his walk, and Laughing
with a visible Affectation, bless me! You here, my Lord! (said she) I vow
this has the look of Assignation, but I hope you will not be so vain as
to believe I came on purpose to seek you. No Madam (answer’d he coldly)
I have not the least Thought of being so happy. Lord! You are strangely
grave (Rejoyn’d she) but suppose I really had come with a Design to meet
you, what kind of Reception might I have expected? I know no Reason Madam
(said he) that can oblige me to entertain a Supposition so unlikely.
Well then (resum’d she) I’ll put it past a Supposition, and tell you
plainly, that I did walk this way on purpose to divert your Spleen. I
am sorry (reply’d he, tir’d to Death with her Impertinence) that you
are disappointed; for I am not in a Humour at present, of receiving
any Diversion. Fie (said she) is this an answer for the gay, Gallant,
engaging _Count_ D’ELMONT, to give a Lady who makes a Declaration of
admiring him----who thinks it not too much to make the first Advances,
and who wou’d believe her self fully recompenc’d for breaking thro’ the
nice Decorums of her Sex, if he receiv’d it kindly---Madam (said he, not
a little amaz’d at her Imprudence) I know of no such Person, or if I did,
I must confess, shou’d be very much puzled how to behave in an Adventure
so uncommon: Pish (answer’d she, growing vext at his coldness) I know
that such Adventures are not uncommon with you: I’m not to learn the
Story of ALOVYSA, and if you had not been first Address’d, perhaps might
have been ’till now unmarried. Well Madam (said he, more out of humour)
put the Case that what you say were true, I am married; and therefore,
(interrupted she) you ought to be better acquainted with the Temper of
our Sex, and know, that a Woman, where she says she Loves, expects a
thousand fine things in Return. But there is more than a possibility
(answer’d he) of her being disappointed, and methinks Madam, a Lady of
your Gaity shou’d be conversant enough with Poetry, to remember those too
Lines of a famous English Poet.

    _All naturally fly, what does Pursue_
    _’Tis fit Men shou’d be Coy, when Women Woe._

MELANTHA was fretted to the Heart to find him so insensible, but not
being one of those who are apt to repent any thing they have done, she
only pretended to fall into a violent fit of Laughter, and when she came
out of it, I confess (said she) that I have lost my Aim, which was, to
make you believe I was dying for Love of you, raise you to the highest
Degree of Expectation, and then have the pleasure of baulking you at
once, by letting you know the jest.----But your Lordship is too hard for
me, even at my own Weapon, ridicule! I am mightly obliged to you Madam
(answer’d he, more briskly than before) for your Intention, however; but
’tis probable, if I cou’d have been drawn into a Belief that you were in
earnest, I might, at such a Time, and such a Place as this, have taken
some Measures which wou’d have sufficiently reveng’d me on you----but
come Madam, (continu’d he) the Morning begins to break, if you please we
will find out MELLIORA, and go into the House: As he spoke these Words,
they perceiv’d her coming towards them, who had only taken a little round
to meet ’em, and they all three made what hast they cou’d in: _Count_
D’ELMONT asked a formal leave of MELLIORA to go thro’ her Chamber, none
of the Servants being yet stirring, to let him into the House any other
way, which being granted, he cou’d not help sighing as he passed by
the Bed, where he had been lately so cruelly disappointed, but had no
opportunity to speak his Thoughts at that time to MELLIORA.

The _Count_ rung for his Gentleman to rise to undress him, and order’d
him to send somebody to take care of his Horse, and went to Bed,
ALOVYSA was very much surpriz’d at his return from the _Baron_’s at so
unseasonable an Hour, but much more so, when in the Morning, MELANTHA
came laughing into the Chamber, and told her, all that she knew of the
Adventure of the Night before; her old fit of Jealousie now resum’d
it’s Dominion in her Soul, she cou’d not forbear thinking, that there
was something more in it, than MELANTHA had discover’d: And presently
imagin’d that her Husband stay’d not at the _Baron_’s, because she
was abroad; but she was more confirm’d in this Opinion, when MELANTHA
calling for her Coach to go home; the _Count_ told her that he wou’d
accompany her thither, having urgent Business with her Brother. ’Tis
almost impossible to guess the rage ALOVYSA was in, but she dissembled
it ’till they were gone, then going to MELLIORA’s Chamber, she vented
part of it there, and began to question her about their Behaviour in the
Wilderness. Tho’ MELLIORA was glad to find, since she was jealous, that
she was jealous of any Body rather than her self, yet she said all that
she cou’d, to perswade her, that she had no Reason to be uneasie.

But ALOVYSA was always of too fiery a Nature to listen patiently to any
thing that cou’d be offer’d, to alter the Opinion she had taken up, tho’
it were with never so little an appearance of Reason, but much more now,
when she thought her self, in a manner Confirm’d: Forbear (said she)
Dear MELLIORA to take the part of perfidy: I know he hates me, I read
it in his Eyes, and feel it on his Lips, all Day he shuns my Converse,
and at night, colder than Ice, receives my warm Embraces, and when, (oh
that I cou’d tear the tender folly from me Heart) with Words as soft
as Love can Form, I urge him to disclose the Cause of his Disquiet, he
answers but in sighs, and turns away: Perhaps (reply’d MELLIORA) his
Temper naturally is gloomy, and love it self, has scarce the Power to
alter Nature. Oh no, (Interrupted ALOVYSA) far from it: Had I ne’er
known him otherwise, I cou’d forgive what now I know, but he was once as
kind as tender Mothers to their new born Babes, and fond as the first
Wishes of desiring Youth: Oh! With what eagerness has he approach’d
me, when absent but an Hour!---Hadst thou ’ere seen him in those Days
of Joy, even, thou, cold Cloyster’d Maid, must have ador’d him What
Majesty, then sat upon his Brow?-----What Matchless Glories shone around
him!----Miriads of _Cupids_, shot resistless Darts in every Glance,---his
Voice when softned in amorous Accents, boasted more Musick, than the
Poet _Orpheus!_ When e’re he spoke, methought the Air seem’d Charm’d,
the Winds forgot to blow, all Nature listn’d, and like ALOVISA melted
into Transport----but he is chang’d in all----the Heroe, and the Lover
are Extinct, and all that’s left, of the once gay D’ELMONT, is a dull
senceless Picture: MELLIORA was too sensibly Touch’d with this Discourse,
to be able presently to make any Answer to it, and she cou’d not forbear
accompanying her in Tears, while ALOVYSA renew’d her Complaints in this
manner; his Heart (said she) his Heart is lost, for ever Ravish’d from
me, that Bosom where I had Treasur’d all my Joys, my Hopes, my Wishes,
now burns and pants, with longings for a rival Curst! Curst, MELANTHA,
by Heaven they are even impudent in Guilt, they Toy, they Kiss, and make
Assignations before my Face, and this Tyrant Husband braves me with his
falsehood, and thinks to awe me into Calmness, but, if I endure it---No
(continu’d she stamping, and walking about the Room in a disorder’d
Motion) I’ll be no longer the tame easie wretch I have been---all
_France_ shall Eccho with my Wrongs---The ungrateful Monster!---Villain,
whose well nigh wasted Stream of Wealth had dry’d, but for my kind of
supply, shall he enslave me!--Oh MELLIORA shun the Marriage Bed, as thou
woud’st a Serpents Den, more Ruinous, more Poysonous far, is Man.

’Twas in vain that MELLIORA endeavour’d to pacifie her, she continu’d in
this Humour all Day, and in the Evening receiv’d a considerable Addition
to her former Disquiet: The _Count_ sent a Servant of the _Barons_
(having not taken any of his own with him) to acquaint her, that he
shou’d not be at home that Night. ’Tis well (said she ready to burst with
Rage) let the _Count_ know that I can change as well as he, and shall
excuse his Absence tho’ it lasts to all Eternity, (go continu’d she,
seeing him surpriz’d) deliver this Message, and withal, assure him, that
what I say, I mean. She had scarce made an end of these Words, when she
flung out of the Room, unable to utter more, and lock’d her self into her
Chamber, leaving MELLIORA no less distracted, tho’ for different Reasons,
to retire to her’s.

She had not ’till now, had a moments Time for reflection since her
Adventure in the Wilderness, and the Remembrance of it, joyn’d with the
Despair, and Grief of ALOVISA, which she knew her self the sole occasion
of, threw her into most terrible Agonies. She was ready to die with
shame, when she consider’d how much the secret of her Soul was laid open
to him, who of all the World she ought most to have conceal’d it from,
and with remorse, for the Miseries her fatal Beauty was like to bring on
a Family for whom she had the greatest Friendship.

But these Thoughts soon gave way to another, equally as shocking, she was
present when the Servant brought Word the _Count_ wou’d lie abroad, and
had all the Reason imaginable to believe that Message was only a feint,
that he might have an opportunity to come unobserv’d to her Chamber,
as he had done the Night before. She cou’d not presently guess by what
means he had got in, and therefore was at a loss how to prevent him,
’till recollecting all the Circumstances of that tender interview, she
remembred that when MELANTHA had surpriz’d them, he made his escape by
the back Stairs into the Garden, and that when they went down, the Door
was lock’d: Therefore concluded it must be by a Key, that he had gain’d
admittance: And began to set her Invention to Work, how to keep this
dangerous Enemy to her Honour, from coming in a second Time. She had no
Keys that were large enough to fill the Wards, and if she had put one in,
on the inside, it wou’d have fallen out immediately on the least touch,
but at last, after trying several ways, she tore her Handkerchief into
small pieces, and thrust it into the hole with her Busk, so hard, that it
was impossible for any Key to enter.

MELLIORA thought she had done a very Heroick Action, and sate her self
down on the Bed-side in a pleas’d Contemplation of the Conquest, she
believ’d her Virtue had gain’d over her Passion: But alas, How little did
she know the true State of her own Heart? She no sooner heard a little
noise at the Door, as presently after she did, but she thought it was the
_Count_, and began to tremble not with fear, but desire.

It was indeed _Count_ D’ELMONT, who had borrow’d Horses and a Servant of
the _Baron_, and got into the Garden as before, but with a much greater
Assurance now of making himself entirely happy in the Gratification of
his utmost Wishes. But ’tis impossible to represent the greatness of
his vexation and surprize, when all his Efforts to open the Door, were
in vain: He found something had been done to the Lock, but cou’d not
discover what, nor by any means remove the obstacle which MELLIORA had
put there. She, on the other hand, was in all the confusion imaginable:
Sometimes prompted by the violence of her Passion, she wou’d run to the
Door, resolving to open it; and then, frighted with the apprehension of
what wou’d be the Consequence, as hastily fly from it: If he had stay’d
much longer, ’tis possible love wou’d have got the better of all other
Considerations, but a light appearing on the other side of the Garden,
oblig’d the thrice disappointed Lover, to quit his Post. He had sent
away the Horses by the Servant who came with him, and had no opportunity
of going to the _Barons_ that Night, so came to his own Fore-gate, and
thunder’d with a force, suitable to the fury he was possest with; it was
presently open’d, most of the Family being up. ALOVISA had rav’d her self
into Fits, and her disorder created full Employment for the Servants,
who busily running about the House with Candles fetching things for her,
occasion’d that reflection which he had seen.

The _Count_ was told of his Lady’s Indisposition, but he thought he had
sufficient pretence not to come where she was, after the Message she had
sent him by the _Baron_’s Servant, and order’d a Bed to be made ready for
him in another Chamber.

ALOVISA soon heard he was come in, and it was with much ado, that her
Women prevail’d on her not to rise and go to him that moment, so little
did she remember what she had said. She pass’d the Night in most terrible
Inquietudes, and early in the Morning went to his Chamber, but finding it
shut, she was oblig’d to wait, tho’ with a World of impatience, ’till she
heard he was stirring, which not being till towards Noon, she spent all
that Time in considering how she shou’d accost him.

As soon as the Servant whom she had order’d to watch, brought her Word
that his Lord was dressing, she went into the Room, there was no body
with him but his Gentleman, and he withdrawing out of respect, imagining
by both their Countenances, there might something be said, not proper
for him to hear. I see (said she) my Presence is unwish’d, but I have
learn’d from you to scorn Constraint, and as you openly avow your
falshood, I shall my Indignation, and my just Disdain! Madam (answer’d
he suddenly) if you have any thing to reproach me with, you cou’d not
have chose a more unlucky Time for it, than this, nor was I ever less
dispos’d to give you Satisfaction. No, barbarous cold Insulter! (resum’d
she) I had not the least hope you wou’d, I find that I am grown so low
in your Esteem, I am not worth pains of an Invention.----By Heaven, this
damn’d indifference is worse than the most vile Abuse!---’Tis plain
Contempt!----O that I cou’d resent it as I ought----then Sword, or Poison
shou’d revenge me---why am I so Curst to Love you still?---O that those
Fiends (continu’d she, bursting into Tears) that have deform’d thy Soul,
wou’d change thy Person too, turn every Charm to horrid Blackness, grim
as thy Cruelty, and foul as thy Ingratitude, to free that Heart, thy
Perjury has ruin’d. I thought Madam (said he, with an Accent maliciously
Ironical) that you had thrown off, even the appearances of Love for me,
by the Message you sent me Yesterday---O thou Tormenter (interrupted
she) hast thou not wrong’d me in the tenderest Point, driven me to the
last Degree of Misery! To Madness!---To Despair? And dost thou----can’st
thou Reproach me for complaining?---Your coldness; your unkindness stung
me to the Soul, and then I said, I know not what---but I remember well,
that I wou’d have seem’d careless, and indifferent like you. You need
not (reply’d he) give your self the trouble of an Apology, I have no
design to make a quarrel of it: And wish, for both our Peace, you cou’d
as easily moderate your Passions, as I can mine, and that you may the
better do so, I leave you to reflect on what I have said, and the little
Reason I have ever given you for such intemperance. He left the Chamber
with these Words, which instead of quelling, more enflam’d ALOVYSA’s
Rage. She threw her self down into an Elbow Chair that stood there, and
gave a loose to the Tempest of her Soul, Sometimes she curst, and vow’d
the bitterest Revenge: Sometimes she wept, and at others, was resolv’d
to fly to Death, the only Remedy for neglected Love: In the midst of
these confus’d Meditations, casting her Eye on a Table by her, she saw
Paper, and something written on it, which hastily taking up, found it the
_Count_’s Character, and read (to her inexpressible Torment) these Lines.

    [Illustration]

    The Dispairing D’ELMONT to his Repenting Charmer.

    _What Cruel Star last Night, had Influence over my
    Inhumane Dear? Say, to what Cause must I ascribe my Fatal
    Disappointment? For I wou’d fain believe I owe it not to
    Thee!----Such an Action, after what thou hast confest, I cou’d
    expect from nothing but a Creature of_ MELANTHA’s _Temper---no,
    ’tis too much of the vain Coquet, and indeed too much of the
    Jilt, for my Adorable to be guilty of--and yet---Oh how shall I
    excuse thee? when every thing was hush’d, Darkness my Friend,
    and all my Wishes rais’d, when every Nerve trembled with fierce
    Desires, and my Pulse beat a call to Love, or Death,----(For
    if I not enjoy thee, that will soon arrive) then, then what,
    but thy self, forgetting all thy Vows, thy tender Vows of the
    most Ardent Passion, cou’d have destroyed my Hopes?---Oh where
    was then that Love which lately flatter’d my fond doating Soul,
    when sinking, dying in my Arms, my Charmer lay! And suffer’d
    me to reap each Prologue favour to the greatest Bliss----But
    they are past, and rigid Honour stands to Guard those joys,
    which----_

There was no more written, but there needed no more to make ALOVYSA,
before half distracted, now quite so. She was now convinc’d that she had
a much more dangerous Rival than MELANTHA, and her Curiosity who it might
be, was not much less troublesome to her than other Passions.

She was going to seek her Husband with this Testimony of his Infidelity
in her Hand, when he, remembring he had left it there, was coming hastily
back to fetch it. The Excess of Fury which she met him with, is hardly
to be imagin’d, she upbraided him in such a Fashion as might be called
reviling, and had so little regard to good Manners, or even decency in
what she said, that it dissipated all the confusion he was in at first,
to see so plain a Proof against him in her Hands, and rouz’d him to a
rage not much Inferior to her’s. She endeavour’d (tho’ she took a wrong
Method) to bring him to a Confession, he had done amiss; and he, to lay
the Tempest of her Tongue, by storming louder, but neither succeeded in
their wish: And he, stung with the bitterness of her Reproaches, and
tired with Clamour, at last flung from her with a solemn Vow never to
eat, or Sleep with her more.

A Wife if equally haughty and jealous, if less fond than ALOVYSA will
scarce be able to comprehend the greatness of her Sufferings: And it is
not to be wonder’d at, that she, so violent in all her Passions, and
agitated by so many, at once, committed a thousand Extravagancies, which
those who know the force but of one, by the Aid of Reason, may avoid.
She tore down the _Count_’s Picture which hung in the Room, and stamp’d
on it, then the Letter, her own Cloaths, and Hair, and whoever had seen
her in that Posture, wou’d have thought she appear’d more like what the
Furies are represented to be, than a Woman.

The _Count_ when he took leave the Night before of the _Baron_
D’ESPERNAY, had promis’d to return to him in the Morning, and give him
an Account of his Adventure with MELLIORA, but the vexation of his
disappointment, and quarrel with his Wife, having hindred him all this
time, the _Baron_ came to his House, impatient to know the Success of an
Affair on which his own hopes depended. He was told by the Servants that
their Lord was above, and running hastily without Ceremony, the first
Person he saw was ALOVISA, in the condition I have describ’d.

The _Baron_ had passionately lov’d this Lady from the first Moment he had
seen her, but it was with that sort of Love, which considers more it’s
own gratification, than the Interest, or quiet, of the object beloved.
He imagin’d by the Wildness of ALOVYSA’s Countenance and Behaviour, that
the _Count_ had given her some extraordinary occasion of distaste, and
was so far from being troubled at the Sorrow he beheld her in, that he
rejoyc’d in it, as the advancement of his Designs. But he wanted not
cunning to disguise his Sentiments, and approaching her with a tender,
and submissive Air, entreated her to tell him the Cause of her disorder.
ALOVYSA had always consider’d him as a Person of worth, and one who
was entitled to her Esteem by the vast respect he always paid her, and
the Admiration, which in every opportunity, he exprest for her Wit and
Beauty. She was not perhaps far from guessing the Extent of his Desires,
by some Looks, and private Glances he had given her, and, notwithstanding
her Passion, for the _Count_, was too vain to be offended at it. On the
contrary, it pleas’d her Pride, and confirm’d her in the good Opinion
she had of her self, to think a Man of his Sense shou’d be compell’d
by the force of her irresistible Attractions to adore and to despair,
and therefore made no Difficulty of disburthening all the anguish of her
Soul, in the Bosom of this, as she believ’d, so faithful Friend.

The _Baron_ seem’d to receive this Declaration of her Wrongs, with all
imaginable concern: And accus’d the _Count_ of Stupidity in so little
knowing the value of a Jewel he was Master of, and gave her some hints,
that he was not unsensible who the Lady was, that had been the Cause of
it, which ALOVISA presently taking hold on, O speak her Name (said she)
quick, let me know her, or own thy Friendship was but feign’d to undo
me, and that thou hatest the wretched ALOVISA. O far (resum’d he) far be
such thoughts, first let me Die, to prove my Zeal---my Faith, sincere
to you, who only next to Heaven, are worthy Adoration---but forgive me,
if I say, in this, you must not be obey’d. O why, said she? Perhaps,
(answer’d he) I am a trusted Person---A confident, and if I should reveal
the secret of my Friend, I know, tho’ you approv’d the Treachery, you
wou’d detest the Traytor. O! Never (rejoyn’d she impatiently) ’twou’d
be a Service, more than the whole Study of my Life can pay----am I not
Rack’d,----Stab’d---and Mangled in Idea, by some dark Hand shaded with
Night and Ignorance? And shou’d I not be grateful for a friendly Clue
to guide me from this Labyrinth of Doubt, to a full Day of Certainty,
where all the fiend may stand expos’d before me, and I have Scope to
Execute my Vengeance? Besides, (continu’d she, finding he was silent and
seemingly extreamly mov’d at what she said) ’tis joyning in the Cause
of Guilt to hide her from me----come, you must tell me---your Honour
suffers else---both that, and pity, plead the Injur’d’s Cause. Alas (said
he) Honour can ne’er consent to a Discovery of what, with solemn Vows I
have promis’d to Conceal; but Oh!---There is something in my Soul, more
Powerful, which says, that ALOVYSA must not be deny’d. Why then (cry’d
she) do you delay? Why keep me on the Rack, when one short Word wou’d
ease me of my Torment? I have consider’d (answer’d he after a pause)
Madam, you shall be satisfied, depend on it you shall, tho’ not this
Moment, you shall have greater Proofs than Words can give you----Occular
Demonstration shall strike denial Dumb. What mean you? Interrupted she;
you shall behold (said he) the guilty pair, link’d in each others Arms.
Oh ESPERNAY (rejoyn’d she) coud’st thou do that?---’Tis easie (answer’d
he) as I can order Matters---but longer Conferrence may render me
suspected---I’ll go seek the _Count_, for he must be my Engine to betray
himself---In a Day or two, at farthest you shall enjoy all the Revenge
Detection can bestow.

ALOVYSA wou’d fain have perswaded him to have told her the Name of her
Rival, in part of that full Conviction he had promis’d her, but in vain,
and she was oblig’d to leave the Issue of this Affair entirely to his
Management.

The _Baron_ was extreamly pleas’d with the Progress he had made, and
did not doubt, but for the purchase of this secret he shou’d obtain
every thing he desired of ALOVYSA. He found _Count_ D’ELMONT full of
troubled and perplexed Thoughts, and when he had heard the History of
his disappointment: I am sorry to hear (said he) that the foolish Girl
does not know her own mind---but come (my Lord continued he, after
a little pause) do not suffer your self to sink beneath a Caprice,
which all those who converse much with that Sex must frequently meet
with---I have a Contrivance in my Head, that cannot fail to render all
her peevish Virtue frustrate: And make her happy in her own despite. Oh
ESPERNAY! (reply’d the _Count_) thou talkest as Friendship prompts thee,
I know thou wishest my Success, but alas! So many, and such unforeseen
Accidents have happen’d hitherto to prevent me, that I begin to think
the Hand of Fate has set me down for lost. For shame my Lord (Interrupted
the _Baron_) be not so poor in Spirit----Once more I tell you that she
shall be yours---a Day or two shall make her so---and because I know you
Lovers are unbelieving, and impatient----I will Communicate the Means. A
Ball, and Entertainment shall be provided at my House, to which, all the
Neighbouring People of Condition shall be invited, amongst the number,
your self, your Lady, and MELLIORA; it will be late before ’tis done,
and I must perswade your Family, and some others who live farthest off,
to Countenance the Design to stay all Night; all that you have to do,
is to keep up your Resentment to ALOVYSA, that you may have a pretence
to sleep from her: I shall take care to have MELLIORA plac’d where no
Impediment may bar your Entrance. Impossible Suggestion! (cry’d D’ELMONT
shaking his Head) ALOVYSA is in too much Rage of Temper to listen to
such an Invitation, and without her, we must not hope for MELLIORA.
How Industrious are you (resum’d the _Baron_) to create difficulties
where there is none: Tho’ I confess this may have, to you, a reasonable
Appearance of one. But know, my Friendship builds it’s hopes to serve you
on a sure Foundation---this jealous furious Wife, makes me the Confident
of her imagin’d Injuries, Conjures me to use all my Interest with you for
a reconcilement, and believes I am now pleading for her----I must for a
while rail at your Ingratitude, and Condemn your want of Taste, to keep
my Credit with her, and now and then sweeten her with a doubtful Hope
that it may be possible at last to bring you to acknowledge, that you
have been in an Error; this at once confirms her, that I am wholly on her
side, and engages her to follow my Advice.

Tho’ nothing Palls desire so much as too easie an Assurance of Means to
gratifie it, yet a little hope is absolutely necessary to preserve it.
The fiery Wishes of D’ELMONT’S Soul, before chill’d by despair, and half
supprest with clouding Griefs, blaz’d now, as fierce, and vigorous as
ever, and he found so much probability in what the _Baron_ said, that he
was ready to adore him for the Contrivance.

Thus all Parties, but MELLIORA, remain’d in a sort of a pleas’d
Expectation. The COUNT doubted not of being happy, nor ALOVISA of having
her curiosity satisfy’d by the _Baron’s_ Assistance, nor himself of the
reward he design’d to demand of her for that good Service, and each
long’d impatiently for the Day, or rather Night, which was to bring this
great Affair to a Period. Poor MELLIORA was the only Person, who had no
interval of Comfort. Restrain’d by Honour, and enflam’d by Love, her very
Soul was torn: And when she found that COUNT D’ELMONT made no attempt
to get into her Chamber again, as she imagin’d he wou’d, she fell into
a Despair more terrible than all her former Inquietudes; she presently
fancy’d that the disappointment he had met with the Night before, had
driven the hopeless Passion from his Heart, and the Thoughts of being no
longer beloved by him, were unsupportable. She saw him not all that Day,
nor the next, the quarrel between him and ALOVISA having caus’d separate
Tables, she was oblig’d in Decency, to eat at that where she was, and had
the Mortification of hearing her self Curs’d every Hour, by the enrag’d
Wife, in the Name of her unknown Rival, without daring to speak a Word in
her own Vindication.

In the mean time the _Baron_ diligent to make good the Promises he had
given the COUNT and ALOVISA, for his own Ends, got every thing ready, and
came himself to D’ELMONT’S House, to entreat their Company at his. Now
Madam (said he) to ALOVISA the time is come to prove your Servants Faith:
This Night shall put an end to your uncertainty: They had no opportunity
for further Speech; MELLIORA came that Moment into the Room, who being
ask’d to go to the Ball, and seeming a little unwilling to appear at any
publick Diversion, by Reason of the late Death of her Father, put the
_Baron_ in a Mortal Apprehension for the Success of his Undertaking: But
ALOVYSA joyning in his Entreaties, she was at last prevail’d upon: The
COUNT went along with the _Baron_ in his Chariot: And the Ladies soon
follow’d in an other.

There was a vast deal of Company there, and the _Count_ danc’d with
several of the Ladies, and was extreamly gay amongst them: ALOVYSA
watch’d his Behaviour, and regarded every one of them, in their Turn,
with Jealousie, but was far from having the least Suspicion of her whom
only she had Cause.

Tho’ MELLIORA’S greatest Motive to go, was, because she might have the
happiness of seeing her admir’d _Count_; a Blessing, she had not enjoy’d
these two Days, yet she took but little Satisfaction in that View,
without an opportunity of being spoke to by him. But that uneasiness
was remov’d, when the serious Dances being over, and they all joyning
in a grand Ballet: He every now and then, got means to say a Thousand
tender Things to her, press’d her Hand whenever he turn’d her, and wou’d
sometimes, when at a distance from ALOVISA, pretend to be out, on purpose
to stand still, and talk to her. This kind of Behaviour banish’d part of
her Sufferings, for tho’ she cou’d consider both his, and her own Passion
in no other View, than that of a very great Misfortune to them both,
yet there are so many Pleasures, even in the Pains of Love. Such tender
thrillings, such Soul-ravishing Amusements, attend some happy Moments of
Contemplation, that those who most Endeavour, can wish but faintly to be
freed from.

When it grew pretty late, the Baron made a sign to the Count to follow
him into a little Room joyning to that where they were, and when he had,
now my Lord, (said he) I doubt not but this Night will make you entirely
Possessor of your Wishes: I have prolonged the Entertainment, on purpose
to detain those, who ’tis necessary for our Design, and have ordered
a Chamber for MELLIORA, which has no Impediment to Bar your Entrance:
O! Thou best of Friends, (answer’d D’ELMONT) how shall I requite thy
Goodness? In making (resum’d the Baron) a right Use of the Opportunity
I give you, for if you do not, you render fruitless all the Labours of
my Brain, and make me wretched, while my Friend is so. Oh! fear me not
(cry’d D’ELMONT in a Rapture) I will not be deny’d, each Faculty of
my Soul is bent upon Enjoyment, tho’ Death in all its various Horrors
glar’d upon me, I’d scorn ’em all in MELLIORA’S Arms---O! the very Name
transports me---New fires my Blood, and tingles in my Veins---Imagination
points out all her Charms--Methinks I see her lie in sweet
Confusion--Fearing--Wishing--Melting---Her glowing Cheeks--Her closing
dying Eyes--her every kindling--Oh ’tis too vast for Thought! Even Fancy
flags, and cannot reach her Wonders! As he was speaking, MELANTHA, who
had taken notice of his going out of the Room, and had follow’d him with
a Design of talking to him, came time enough to hear the latter part of
what he said, but seeing her Brother with him, withdrew with as much
haste as she came, and infinitely more uneasiness of Mind; she was now
but too well assur’d that she had a greater difficulty than the Count’s
Matrimonial Engagement to get over, before she could reach his Heart, and
was ready to burst with Vexation to think she was supplanted: Full of a
Thousand tormenting Reflections she return’d to the Ball Room, and was so
out of Humour all the Night, that she could hardly be commonly Civil to
any Body that spoke to her.

At last, the Hour so much desired by the Count, the Baron, and ALOVISA
(tho’ for various Reasons) was arriv’d: The Company broke up; those who
liv’d near, which were the greatest part, went home, the others being
entreated by the Baron, stay’d. When they were to be conducted to their
Chambers, he call’d MELANTHA, and desired she would take care of the
Ladies as he should direct, but above all, charg’d to place ALOVISA and
MELLIORA in two Chambers which he shewed her.

MELANTHA was now let into the Secret she so much desired to know, the
Name of her Rival, which she had not come time enough to hear, when she
did the Count’s Rapturous Description of her. She had before found out,
that her Brother was in Love with ALOVYSA, and did not doubt, but that
there was a double Intrigue to be carry’d on that Night, and was the
more confirm’d in that Opinion, when she remembred, that the _Baron_
had order’d the Lock that Day to be taken off the Door of that Chamber
where MELLIORA was to be lodg’d. It presently came into her Head, to
betray all she knew to ALOVISA, but she soon rejected that Resolution for
another, which she thought would give her a more pleasing Revenge: She
conducted all the Ladies to such Chambers as she thought fit, and ALOVISA
to that her Brother had desired, having no design of disappointing him,
but MELLIORA she led to one where she always lay her self, resolving to
supply her Place in the other, where the Count was to come: Yes, (said
she to her self) I will receive his Vows in MELLIORA’S Room, and when
I find him rais’d to the highest pitch of Expectation, declare who I
am, and awe him into Tameness; ’twill be a charming Piece of Vengeance,
besides, if he be not the most ungrateful Man on Earth, he must Adore my
Generosity in not exposing him to his Wife, when I have him in my Power,
after the Coldness he has us’d me with. She found something so pleasing
in this Contrivance, that no Considerations whatever, could have Power to
deter her from pursuing it.

When the Baron found every thing was silent and ready for his Purpose,
he went softly to Count D’ELMONT’S Chamber, where he was impatiently
expected; and taking him by the Hand, led him to that, where he had
ordered MELLIORA to be Lodg’d. When they were at the Door, you see my
Lord, (said he) I have kept my Promise; there lies the Idol of your Soul,
go in, be bold, and all the Happiness, you wish attend you. The Count was
in too great a hurry of disorder’d Thoughts to make him any other Answer
than a passionate Embrace, and gently pushing open the Door which had no
fastning to it, left the Baron to prosecute the remaining part of his
treacherous Design.

ALOVISA had all the time of her being at the Baron’s, endur’d most
grievous Racks of Mind, her Husband appear’d to her that Night, more
gay and lovely, if possible than ever, but that Contentment which sat
upon his Face, and added to his Graces, stung her to the Soul, when she
reflected how little Sympathy there was between them: Scarce a Month
(said she to her self) was I bless’d with those looks of Joy, a pensive
sullenness has dwelt upon his Brow e’er since, ’till now; ’tis from my
Ruin that his Pleasure flows, he hates me, and rejoyces in a Pretence,
tho’ never so poor a one, to be absent from me. She was inwardly toss’d
with a Multitude of these and the like perturbations, tho’ the Assurance
the Baron had given her of Revenge, made her conceal them tolerably well,
while she was in Company, but when she was left alone in the Chamber, and
perceiv’d the Baron did not come so soon as she expected. Her Rage broke
out in all the Violence imaginable: She gave a loose to every furious
Passion, and when she saw him enter, Cruel _D’Espernay_ (said she) where
have you been!---Is this the Friendship which you vow’d? To leave me here
distracted with my Griefs, while my perfidious Husband, and the cursed
she, that robs me of him, are perhaps, as happy, as their guilty Love can
make them? Madam (answer’d he) ’tis but a Moment since they are met: A
Moment! (interrupted she) a Moment is too much, the smallest Particle of
undivided Time, may make my Rival blest, and vastly recompence for all
that my Revenge can do. Ah Madam (resum’d the Baron) how dearly do you
still Love that most ungrateful Man: I had hopes that the full Knowledge
of his Falshood might have made you scorn the scorner, I shall be able by
to Morrow (reply’d the Cunning ALOVISA who knew his drift well enough)
to give you a better account of my Sentiments than now I can:---But why
do we delay (continued she impatiently) are they not together?---The
Baron saw this was no time to press her farther, and therefore taking
a Wax Candle which stood on the Table, in one Hand, and offering the
other to lead her, I am ready Madam (said he) to make good my Promise,
and shall esteem no other Hours of my Life happy, but those which may be
serviceable to you: They had only a small part of a Gallery to go thro’,
and ALOVISA had no time to answer to these last Words, if she had been
compos’d enough to have done it, before they were at the Door, which as
soon as the Baron had brought her to, he withdrew with all possible Speed.

Tho’ the _Count_ had been but a very little time in the Arms of his
suppos’d MELLIORA, yet he had made so good use of it, and had taken
so much Advantage of her complying Humour, that all his Fears were at
an End, he now thought himself the most Fortunate of all Mankind; and
_Melantha_ was far from repenting the Breach of the Resolution she
had made of discovering her self to him. His Behaviour to her was all
Rapture, all killing extacy, and she flatter’d her self with a Belief,
that when he shou’d come to know to whom he ow’d that bliss he had
possess’d, he would not be ungrateful for it.

What a confus’d Consternation must this Pair be in, when ALOVYSA rush’d
into the Room;---’tis hard to say, which was the greatest, the _Count’s_
concern for his imagin’d MELLIORA’S Honour, or MELANTHA’S for her own;
but if one may form a Judgment from the Levity of the one’s Temper, and
generosity of the other’s, one may believe that his had the Preheminence:
But neither of them were so lost in Thought, as not to take what measures
the Place and Time wou’d permit, to baffle the Fury of this Incens’d
Wife: MELANTHA slunk under the Cloaths and the COUNT started up in the
Bed at the first Appearance of the Light, which ALOVYSA had in her Hand,
and in the most angry Accent he cou’d turn his Voice to, ask’d her the
Reason of her coming there: Rage, at this sight (prepar’d and arm’d for
it as she was) took away all Power of utterance from her; but she flew
to the Bed, and began to tear the Cloaths (which MELANTHA held fast over
her Head) in so violent a manner, that the _Count_ found the only way to
Tame her, was to meet Force with Force; so jumping out, he seiz’d on her,
and throwing her into a Chair, and holding her down in it, Madam, Madam
(said he) you are Mad, and I as such shall use you, unless you promise to
return quietly, and leave me. She cou’d yet bring forth no other Words,
than Villain,----Monster! And such like Names, which her Passion and
Injury suggested, which he but little regarding but for the noise she
made; for shame (resum’d he) expose not thus your self and me, if you
cannot command your Temper, at least confine your Clamours---I will not
stir (said she, raving and struggling to get loose) ’till I have seen
the Face that has undone me, I’ll tear out her bewitching Eyes---the
curst Adultress! And leave her Mistress of fewer Charms than thou canst
find in me: She spoke this with so elevated a Voice, that the _Count_
endeavour’d to stop her Mouth, that she might not alarm the Company that
were in the House, but he cou’d not do it time enough to prevent her
from shrieking out Murder.---Help! Or the barbarous Man will kill me! At
these Words the _Baron_ came running in immediately, full of Surprize and
Rage at something he had met with in the mean time: How came this Woman
here, cry’d the _Count_ to him: Ask me not my Lord (said he) for I can
answer nothing, but every thing this cursed Night, I think, has happened
by Enchantment; he was going to say something more, but several of his
Guests hearing a noise, and cry of Murder, and directed by the Lights
they saw in that Room, came in, and presently after a great many of the
Servants, that the Chamber was as full as it cou’d hold: The _Count_ let
go his Wife on the sight of the first stranger that enter’d; and indeed,
there was no need of his confining her in that Place (tho’ he knew not so
much) for the violence of so many contrary Passions warring in her Breast
at once, had thrown her into a Swoon, and she fell back when he let go
his hold of her, Motionless, and in all appearance Dead. The _Count_ said
little, but began to put on his Cloaths, asham’d of the Posture he had
been seen in; but the BARON endeavour’d to perswade the Company, that it
was only a Family Quarrel of no Consequence, told them he was sorry for
the disturbance it had given them, and desir’d them to return to their
Rest, and when the Room was pretty clear, order’d two or three of the
Maids to carry ALOVYSA to her Chamber, and apply Things proper for her
Recovery; as they were bearing her out, MELLIORA who had been frighted as
well as the rest, with the noise she heard, was running along the Gallery
to see what had happen’d, and met them; her Trouble to find ALOVYSA in
that Condition, was unfeign’d, and she assisted those that were employ’d
about her, and accompany’d them where they carry’d her.

The _Count_ was going to the Bed-side to comfort the conceal’d Fair,
that lay still under the Cloaths, when he saw MELLIORA at the Door:
What Surprize was ever equal to his, at this View?-----He stood like
one transfix’d with Thunder, he knew not what to think, or rather cou’d
not think at all, confounded with a seeming Impossibility. He beheld
the Person, whom he thought had lain in his Arms, whom he had enjoy’d,
whose Bulk and Proportion he still saw in the Bed, whom he was just
going to Address to, and for whom he had been in all the Agonies of Soul
imaginable, come from a distant Chamber, and unconcern’d, ask’d cooly,
how ALOVISA came to be taken ill! He look’d confusedly about, sometimes
on MELLIORA, sometimes towards the Bed, and sometimes on the Baron; am I
awake, (said he) or is every thing I see and hear, Illusion? The Baron
could not presently resolve after what manner he should answer, tho’
he perfectly knew the Truth of this Adventure, and who was in the Bed;
for, when he had conducted ALOVISA to that Room, in order to make the
Discovery he had promised, he went to his Sister’s Chamber, designing to
abscond there, in case the Count should fly out on his Wife’s Entrance,
and seeing him there, imagine who it was that betray’d him; and finding
the Door shut, knock’d and call’d to have it opened; MELLIORA, who began
to think she should lye in quiet no where, ask’d who was there, and
what he would have? I would speak with my Sister, (reply’d he, as much
astonish’d then, to hear who it was that answer’d him, as the Count was
now to see her) and MELLIORA having assur’d him that she was not with
her, left him no Room to doubt, by what means the Exchange had been
made: Few Men, how amorous soever themselves, care that the Female part
of their Family should be so, and he was most sensibly mortify’d with
it, but reflecting that it could not be kept a Secret, at least from the
Count, my Lord, (said he, pointing to the Bed) there lies the Cause of
your Amazement, that wicked Woman has betray’d the Trust I repos’d in
her, and deceiv’d both you and me; rise, continued he, throwing open the
Curtains, thou shame of thy Sex, and everlasting Blot and Scandal of the
Noble House thou art descended from; rise, I say, or I will stab thee
here in this Scene of Guilt; in speaking these Words, he drew out his
Sword, and appear’d in such a real Fury, that the Count, tho’ more and
more amaz’d with every thing he saw and heard, made no doubt but he wou’d
do as he said, and ran to hold his Arm.

As no Woman that is Mistress of a great share of Wit, _will_ be a Coquet,
so no Woman that has not a little, _can_ be one: MELANTHA, tho’ frighted
to Death with these unexpected Occurrences, feign’d a Courage, which she
had not in reality, and thrusting her Head a little above the Cloaths,
Bless me Brother (said she) I vow I do not know what you mean by all
this Bustle, neither am I guilty of any Crime: I was vex’d indeed to be
made a Property of, and chang’d Beds with MELLIORA for a little innocent
Revenge; for I always design’d to discover my self to the Count, time
enough to prevent Mischief. The Baron was not so silly as to believe
what she said, tho’ the Count, as much as he hated her, had too much
Generosity to contradict her, and keeping still hold of the Baron, come
_D’Espernay_, (said he) I believe your Sisters Stars and mine, have from
our Birth been at Variance, for this is the third Disappointment she has
given me; once in MELLIORA’S Chamber, then in the Wilderness, and now
here; but I forgive her, therefore let us retire and leave her to her
Repose. The Baron was sensible that all the Rage in the World could not
recall what had been done, and only giving her a furious Look, went with
the Count out of the Room, without saying any thing more to her at that
Time.

The Baron with much Entreating, at last prevail’d on Count D’ELMONT to
go into his Bed, where he accompany’d him; but they were both of them
too full of troubled Meditations, to Sleep: His Sister’s Indiscretion
vex’d the Baron to the Heart, and took away great part of the Joy, for
the fresh Occasion the Count had given ALOVISA to withdraw her Affection
from him. But with what Words can the various Passions that agitated
the Soul of D’ELMONT be described? The Transports he had enjoy’d in an
imaginary Felicity, were now turn’d to so many real Horrors; he saw
himself expos’d to all the World, for it would have been Vanity to the
last Degree, to believe this Adventure would be kept a Secret, but what
gave him the most bitter Reflection, was, that MELLIORA when she should
know it, as he could not doubt but she immediately wou’d be told it by
ALOVISA, wou’d judge of it by the Appearance, and believe him, at once,
the most vicious, and most false of Men. As for his Wife, he thought not
of her, with any Compassion for his Sufferings, but with Rage and Hate,
for that jealous Curiosity, which he suppos’d had led her to watch his
Actions that Night; (for he had not the least Suspicion of the Baron.)
MELANTHA he always despised, but now detested, for the Trick she had put
upon him; yet thought it would be not only unmanly, but barbarous to let
her know he did so: It was in vain for him to endeavour to come to a
Determination after what manner he should behave himself to any of them,
and when the Night was past, in forming a thousand several Resolutions,
the Morning found him as much to seek as before: He took his Leave early
of the Baron, not being willing to see any of the Company after what had
happened, ’till he was more Compos’d.

He was not deceiv’d in his Conjectures concerning MELLIORA, for
ALOVISA was no sooner recover’d from her Swoon, than, she, with
bitter Exclamations, told her what had been the Occasion, and put that
astonish’d Fair one into such a visible Disorder, as had she not been too
full of Misery, to take Notice of it, had made her easily perceive that
she was deeply interested in the Story: But whatever she said against
the Count, as she could not forbear something, calling him Ungrateful,
Perjur’d, Deceitful, and Inconstant, ALOVISA took only, as a Proof of
Friendship to her self, and the Effects of that just Indignation all
Women ought to feel for him, that takes a Pride in Injuring any one of
them.

When the Count was gone, the Baron sent to ALOVISA to enquire of her
Health, and if he might have leave to visit her in her Chamber, and being
told she desired he shou’d, resolv’d now to make his Demand. MELLIORA had
but just parted from her, in order to get herself ready to go Home, and
she was alone when he came in. As soon as the first Civilities were over,
she began afresh to conjure him to let her know the Name of her Rival,
which he artfully evading, tho’ not absolutely denying, made her almost
distracted; the Baron carefully observ’d her every Look and Motion, and
when he found her Impatience was rais’d to the highest degree; Madam
(said he, taking her by the Hand, and looking tenderly on her) you cannot
blame a Wretch who has lavish’d all he had away to one poor Jewel,
to make the most he can of that, to supply his future Wants: I have
already forfeited all pretence to Honour, and even common Hospitality,
by betraying the Trust that was repos’d in me, and exposing under my
own Roof, the Man who takes me for his dearest Friend, and what else I
have suffer’d from that unavoidable Impulse which compell’d me to do all
this, your self may judge, who too well know, the Pangs and Tortures of
neglected Love---Therefore, (continued he with a deep Sigh) since this
last reserve is all my Hopes dependance, do not, Oh Charming ALOVISA,
think me Mercinary, if I presume to set a Price upon it, which I confess
too high, yet nothing less can Purchase: No Price (reply’d ALOVISA, who
thought a little Condescension was necessary to win him to her purpose)
can be too dear to buy my Peace, nor Recompence too great for such a
Service: What, not your Love, said the Baron, eagerly kissing her Hand?
No (resum’d she, forcing herself to look kindly on him) not even that,
when such a Proof of yours engages it; but do not keep me longer on the
Rack, give me the Name and then.---She spoke these last Words with such
an Air of Languishment, that the Baron thought his Work was done, and
growing bolder, from her Hand he proceeded to her Lips, and answer’d her
only in Kisses, which distastful as they were to her, she suffer’d him to
take, without Resistance, but that was not all he wanted, and believing
this the Critical Minute, he threw his Arms about her Waist, and began
to draw her by little and little toward the Bed; which she affected to
permit with a kind of an unwilling Willingness; saying, Well, if you
wou’d have me able to deny you nothing you can ask, tell me the Name I
so much wish to know: But the Baron was as cunning as she, and seeing
thro’ her Artifice, was resolv’d to make sure of his Reward first: Yes,
yes, my adorable ALOVISA (answer’d he, having brought her now very near
the Bed) you shall immediately know all, thy Charms will force the Secret
from my Breast, close as it is lodg’d within my inmost Soul.---Dying
with Rapture I will tell thee all.---If that a Thought of this injurious
Husband, can interpose amidst Extatick Joys. What will not some Women
venture, to satisfy a jealous Curiosity? ALOVISA had feign’d to consent
to his Desires, (in hopes to engage him to a Discovery) so far, and had
given him so many Liberties, that now, it was as much as she cou’d do
to save herself, from the utmost Violence, and perceiving she had been
outwitted, and that nothing but the really yielding up her Honour, cou’d
oblige him to reveal what she desired. Villain, said she, (struggling
to get loose from his Embrace) dare thy base Soul believe so vilely of
me? Release me from thy detested Hold, or my Cries shall force thee to
it, and proclaim thee what thou art, a Monster! The Baron was not enough
deluded by her pretence of Kindness, to be much surpriz’d at this sudden
turn of her Behaviour, and only cooly answer’d, Madam, I have no design
of using Violence, but perceive, if I had depended on your Gratitude, I
had been miserably deceiv’d. Yes (said she, looking contemptibly on him)
I own thou would’st; for whatsoever I might say, or thou could’st hope, I
love my Husband still, with an unbated Fondness, doat upon him! Faithless
and Cruel as he is, he still is lovely! His Eyes lose nothing of their
brightness, nor his Tongue its softness! His very Frowns have more
Attraction in them than any others Smiles! and canst thou think! Thou,
so different in all from him, that thou seemest not the same Species of
Humanity, nor ought’st to stile thy self a Man since he is no more: Canst
thou, I say, believe a Woman, bless’d as ALOVISA has been, can e’er blot
out the dear Remembrance, and quit her Hopes of re-gain’d Paradise in
his Embrace, for certain Hell in Thine? She spoke these Words with so
much Scorn, that the Baron skill’d as he was in every Art to tempt, cou’d
not conceal the Spite he conceiv’d at them, and letting go her Hand,
(which perforce he had held) I leave you Madam (said he) to the Pleasure
of enjoying your own Humour; neither that, nor your Circumstances are
to be envy’d, but I’d have you to remember, that you are your own
Tormentor, while you refuse the only means can bring you Ease. I will
have Ease another way (said she, incens’d at the Indignity she imagin’d
he treated her with) and if you still persist in refusing to discover to
me the Person who has injur’d me, I shall make no difficulty of letting
the Count know how much of his Secrets you have imparted, and for what
Reason you conceal the other: You may do so (answer’d he) and I doubt
not but you will---Mischief is the darling Favourite of Woman! Blood is
the Satisfaction perhaps, that you require, and if I fall by him, or he
by me, your Revenge will have its aim, either on the Unloving or the
Unlov’d; for me, I set my Life at nought, without your Love ’tis Hell;
but do not think that even dying, to purchase Absolution, I’d reveal one
Letter of that Name, you so much wish to hear, the Secret shall be buried
with me.----Yes, Madam (continued he, with a malicious Air) that happy
Fair unknown, whose Charms have made you wretched, shall undiscover’d,
and unguess’d at, Triumph in those Joys you think none but your Count can
give. ALOVISA had not an Opportunity to make any Answer to what he said;
MELLIORA came that Moment into the Room, and ask’d if she was ready to
go, and ALOVISA saying that she was, they both departed from the Baron’s
House, without much Ceremony on either side.

ALOVISA had not been long at home before a Messenger came to acquaint
her, that her Sister having miss’d of her at _Paris_, was now on her
Journey to _Le Beausse_, and wou’d be with her in a few Hours: She
rejoyc’d as much at this News, as it was possible for one so full of
disquiet to do, and order’d her Chariot and Six to be made ready again,
and went to meet her.

D’ELMONT heard of ANSELLINA’S coming almost as soon as ALOVISA, and his
Complaisance for Ladies, join’d with the extream desire he had of seeing
his Brother, whom he believ’d was with her, wou’d certainly have given
him Wings to have flown to them with all imaginable Speed, had not the
late Quarrel between him and his Wife, made him think it was improper
to join Company with her on any Account whatever: He was sitting in
his Dressing-Room Window in a melancholly and disturb’d Meditation,
ruminating on every Circumstance of his last Nights Adventure, when
he perceiv’d a couple of Horsemen come galloping over the Plain, and
make directly toward his House. The Dust they made, kept him from
distinguishing who they were, and they were very near the Gate before
he discover’d them to be the _Chevalier_ BRILLIAN, and his Servant: The
Surprize he was in to see him without ANSELLINA was very great, but
much more so, when running down, as soon as he saw he was alighted, and
opening his Arms eagerly to Embrace him; the other drawing back, No,
my Lord (said he) since you are pleas’d to forget I am your Brother,
I pretend no other way to merit your Embraces: Nor can think it any
Happiness to hold him in my Arms, who keeps me distant from his Heart.
What mean you (cry’d D’ELMONT, extreamly astonish’d at his Behaviour)
you know so little (resum’d the _Chevalier_) of the power of Love, your
self, that perhaps, you think I ought not to resent what you having done
to ruin me in mine: But, however Sir, Ambition is a Passion which you
are not a Stranger to, and have settled your own Fortune according to
your Wish, methinks you shou’d not wonder that I take it ill, when you
endeavour to prevent my doing so to: The _Count_ was perfectly Confounded
at these Words, and looking earnestly on him; Brother (said he) you seem
to lay a heavy Accusation on me, but if you still retain so much of that
former Affection which was between us, as to desire I shou’d be clear’d
in your Esteem, you must be more plain in your Charge, for tho’ I easily
perceive that I am wrong’d, I cannot see by what means I am so. My Lord,
you are not wrong’d (cry’d the _Chevalier_ hastily) you know you are
not: If my Tongue were silent, the despair that sits upon my Brow, my
alter’d Looks, and grief-sunk Eyes, wou’d proclaim your Barbarous---most
unnatural Usage of me. Ungrateful BRILLIAN (said the COUNT, at once
inflam’d with Tenderness and Anger) is this the Consolation I expected
from your Presence? I know not for what Cause I am upbraided, being
Innocent of any, nor what your Troubles are, but I am sure my own
are such, as needed not this Weight to overwhelm me. He spoke this so
feelingly, and concluded with so deep a sigh as most sensibly touch’d
the Heart of BRILLIAN. If I cou’d believe that you had any (reply’d he)
it were enough to sink me quite, and rid me of a Life which ANSELLINA’S
loss has made me hate. What said you, (interrupted the _Count_)
ANSELLINA’S loss? If that be true, I pardon all the wildness of your
unjust Reproaches, for well I know, despair has small regard to Reason,
but quickly speak the Cause of your Misfortune:---I was about to enquire
the Reason that I saw you not together, when your unkind Behaviour drove
it from my Thoughts. That Question (answer’d the _Chevalier_) ask’d by
you some Days since, wou’d have put me past all the Remains of Patience,
but I begin to hope I am not so unhappy as I thought, but still am blest
in Friendship, tho’ undone in Love----but I’ll not keep you longer in
suspence, my Tale of Grief is short in the Repeating, tho’ everlasting in
its Consequence. In saying this, he sat down, and the _Count_ doing the
like, and assuring him of Attention, he began his Relation in this manner.

Your Lordship may remember that I gave you an Account by Letter, of
ANSELLINA’S Indisposition, and the Fears I was in for her; but by the
time I receiv’d your Answer, I thought my self the happiest of Mankind:
She was perfectly recover’d, and every Day I receiv’d new Proofs of her
Affection: We began to talk now of coming to _Paris_, and she seem’d
no less Impatient for that Journey than my self, and one Evening, the
last I ever had the Honour of her Conversation; she told me, that in
spite of the Physicians Caution, she wou’d leave _Amiens_ in three or
four Days; You may be sure I did not disswade her from that Resolution;
but, how great was my Astonishment, when going the next Morning to the
_Baronesses_, to give the Ladies the _Bonjour_, as I constantly did
every Morning, I perceiv’d an unusual coldness in the Face of every
one in the Family; the _Baroness_ herself spoke not to me, but to tell
me that ANSELLINA wou’d see no Company: How, Madam, said I, am I not
excepted from those general Orders, what can this sudden alteration in
my Fortune mean? I suppose (reply’d she) that ANSELLINA has her Reasons
for what she does: I said all that despair cou’d suggest, to oblige her
to give me some light into this Mistery, but all was in vain, she either
made me no Answers, or such as were not Satisfactory, and growing weary
with being Importun’d, she abruptly went out of the Room, and left me
in a confusion not to be Express’d: I renew’d my visit the next Day,
and was then deny’d admittance by the Porter: The same, the following
one, and as Servants commonly form their Behaviour, according to that of
those they serve, it was easy for me to observe I was far from being a
welcome Guest: I writ to ANSELLINA, but had my Letter return’d unopen’d:
And that Scorn so unjustly thrown upon me, tho’ it did not absolutely
cure my Passion, yet it stirr’d up so much just Resentment in me, that
it abated very much of its Tenderness: About a Fortnight I remain’d in
this perplexity, and at the end of it was plung’d into a greater, when I
receiv’d a little _Billet_ from ANSELLINA, which as I remember, contain’d
these Words.

    [Illustration]

    ANSELLINA to the _Chevalier_ BRILLIAN.

    _I sent your Letter back without Perusing, believing it might
    contain something of a Subject which I am resolv’d to encourage
    no farther: I do not think it proper at present to acquaint you
    with my Reasons for it; but if I see you at PARIS, you shall
    know them: I set out for thence to Morrow, but desire you not
    to pretend to Accompany me thither, if you wou’d preserve the
    Esteem of_,

                                                         ANSELLINA.

I cannot but say, I thought this manner of proceeding very odd, and
vastly different from that openness of Nature, I always admir’d in
her, but as I had been always a most obsequious Lover; I resolv’d not
to forfeit that Character, and give a Proof of an implicite Obedience
to her Will, tho’ with what Anxiety of Mind you may imagine. I stood
at a distance, and saw her take Coach, and as soon as her Attendants
were out of sight, I got on Horseback, and follow’d; I several Times
lay at the same Inn where she did, but took care not to appear before
her: Never was any sight more pleasing to me, than that of _Paris_,
because I there hop’d to have my Destiny unravell’d; but your being out
of Town, preventing her making any stay, I was reduc’d to another tryal
of Patience; about Seven Furlongs from hence, hap’ning to Bait at the
same _Cabaret_ with her, I saw her Woman, who had been always perfectly
obliging to me, walking alone in the Garden; I took the liberty to show
my self to her, and ask her some Questions concerning my future Fate, to
which she answer’d with all the Freedom I cou’d desire, and observing
the Melancholly, which was but too apparent in my Countenance: Sir, said
she, tho’ I think nothing can be more blame-worthy than to betray the
Secrets of our Superiors, yet I hope I shall stand excus’d for declaring
so much of my Lady’s as the Condition you are in, seems to require; I
wou’d not therefore have you believe that in this Separation, you are
the only Sufferer, I can assure you, my Lady bears her part of Sorrow
too.----How can that be possible (cry’d I) when my Misfortune is brought
upon me, only by the change of her Inclination? Far from it (answer’d
she) you have a Brother--he only is to blame, she has receiv’d Letters
from _Madam_ D’ELMONT which have---as she was speaking, she was call’d
hastily away, without being able to finish what she was about to say,
and I was so Impatient to hear: Her naming you in such a manner, planted
ten thousand Daggers in my Soul!----What cou’d I imagine by those Words,
_You have a Brother, he only is to Blame_, and her mentioning Letters
from that Brother’s Wife; but that it was thro’ you I was made wretched?
I repeated several times over to my self, what she had said, but cou’d
wrest no other Meaning from it, than that you being already possess’d
of the Elder Sister’s Fortune, were willing to Engross the other’s too,
by preventing her from Marrying: Pardon me, my Lord, if I have Injur’d
you, since I protest, the Thoughts of your designing my undoing, was, if
possible, more dreadful to me than the Ill it self.

You will, reply’d the _Count_, be soon convinc’d how little Hand I had
in those Letters, whatever they contain’d, when you have been here a few
Days. He then told him of the disagreement between himself and ALOVISA,
her perpetual Jealousy, her Pride, her Rage, and the little probability
there was of their being ever reconcil’d, so as to live together as they
ought, omitting nothing of the Story, but his Love for MELLIORA, and
the Cause he had given to create this uneasiness. They both concluded,
that ANSELLINA’S alteration of Behaviour was entirely owing to something
her Sister had written, and that she wou’d use her utmost endeavour
to break off the Match wholly in Revenge to her Husband: As they were
discoursing on means to prevent it, the Ladies came to the Gate; they saw
them thro’ the Window, and ran to receive them immediately: The _Count_
handed ANSELLINA out of the Coach, with great Complaisance, while the
_Chevalier_ wou’d have done the same by ALOVISA, but she wou’d not permit
him, which the _Count_ observing, when he had paid those Complements to
her Sister, which he thought civility requir’d, Madam (said he, turning
to her and frowning) is it not enough, you make me wretched by your
continual Clamours, and Upbraidings, but that your ill Nature must extend
to all, whom you believe I love? She answer’d him only with a disdainful
Look, and haughty Toss, which spoke the Pleasure she took in having it in
her Power to give him Pain, and went out of the Room with ANSELLINA.

D’ELMONT’S Family was now become a most distracted one, every Body was
in confusion, and it was hard for a disinterested Person, to know how
to behave among them: The _Count_ was ready to die with Vexation, when
he reflected on the Adventure at the BARON’S with MELANTHA, and how
hard it wou’d be to clear his Conduct in that point with MELLIORA: She,
on the other Hand, was as much tormented at his not attempting it. The
_Chevalier_, was in the height of despair, when he found that ANSELLINA
continued her Humour, and still avoided letting him know the occasion of
it: And ALOVISA, tho’ she contented herself for some Hours with relating
to her Sister, all the Passages of her Husband’s unkind usage of her,
yet when that was over, her Curiosity return’d, and she grew so madly
Zealous to find out, who her rival was, that she repented her Behaviour
to the _Baron_, and sent him the next Day privately, a _Billet_, wherein
she assur’d him, that she had acquainted the _Count_ with nothing that
had pass’d between them, and that she desir’d to speak with him. ’Tis
easy to believe he needed not a second Invitation; he came immediately,
and ALOVISA renew’d her Entreaties in the most pressing manner she was
capable of, but in vain, he told her plainly, that if he cou’d not
have her Heart, nothing but the full Possession of her Person shou’d
Extort the Secret from him. ’Twould swell this Discourse beyond what I
design, to recount her various Starts of Passions, and different Turns
of Behaviour, sometimes louder than the Winds she rav’d! Commanded!
Threatned! Then, still as _April_ Showers, or Summer Dews she wept, and
only whisper’d her Complaints, now dissembling Kindness, then declaring
unfeign’d Hate; ’till at last, finding it impossible to prevail by any
other means, she promis’d to admit him at Midnight into her Chamber:
But as it was only the force of her too passionate Affection for her
Husband, which had work’d her to this pitch of raging Jealousie, so she
had no sooner made the Assignation, and the _Baron_ had left her (to seek
the _Count_ to prevent any suspicion of their long Conversation) but
all D’ELMONT’S Charms came fresh into her Mind, and made the Thoughts
of what she had promis’d, Odious and Insupportable; she open’d her
Mouth more than once to call back the _Baron_, and Recant all that she
had said; but her ill Genius, or that Devil, Curiosity, which too much
haunts the Minds of Women, still prevented Her: What will become of me,
(said she to her self) what is it I am about to do? Shall I foregoe my
Honour---quit my Virtue,---sully my yet unspotted Name with endless
Infamy---and yield my Soul to Sin, to Shame, and Horror, only to know
what I can ne’er Redress? If D’ELMONT hates me now, will he not do so
still?---What will this curs’d Discovery bring me but added Tortures, and
fresh weight of Woe: Happy had it been for her if these Considerations
cou’d have lasted, but when she had been a Minute or two in this Temper,
she wou’d relapse and cry, what! must I tamely bear it then?---Endure
the Flouts of the malicious World, and the contempt of every saucy
Girl, who while she pities, scorns my want of Charms--Shall I neglected
tell my Tale of Wrongs, (O, Hell is in that Thought) ’till my despair
shall reach my Rival’s Ears, and Crown her Adulterous Joys with double
Pleasure.---Wretch that I am!--Fool that I am, to hesitate, my Misery
is already past Addition, my everlasting Peace is broke! Lost even to
hope, what can I more endure?---No, since I must be ruin’d, I’ll have
the Satisfaction of dragging with me to Perdition, the Vile, the Cursed
she that has undone me: I’ll be reveng’d on her, then die my self, and
free me from Pollution. As she was in this last Thought, she perceiv’d
at a good distance from her, the _Chevalier_ BRILLIAN and ANSELLINA in
Discourse; the sight of him immediately put a new contrivance into her
Head, and she compos’d her self as she cou’d, and went to meet them.

ANSELLINA having been left alone, while her Sister was Entertaining the
_Baron_, had walk’d down into the Garden to divert her self, where the
_Chevalier_, who was on the watch for such an opportunity, had follow’d
her; he cou’d not forbear, tho’ in Terms full of Respect, taxing her
with some little Injustice for her late Usage of him, and Breach of
Promise, in not letting him know her Reasons for it: She, who by Nature
was extreamly averse to the disguising her Sentiments, suffer’d him not
long to press her for an _Eclaircissment_, and with her usual Freedom,
told him what she had done, was purely in compliance with her Sister’s
Request; that she cou’d not help having the same Opinion of him as ever,
but that she had promis’d ALOVISA to defer any Thoughts of marrying him,
till his Brother shou’d confess his Error: The obliging things she said
to him, tho’ she persisted in her Resolution, dissipated great part of
his Chagreen, and he was beginning to excuse D’ELMONT, and persuade her
that her Sister’s Temper was the first occasion of their quarrel, when
ALOVISA interrupted them. ANSELLINA was a little out of Countenance
at her Sister’s Presence, imagining she wou’d be Incens’d at finding
her with the _Chevalier_; but that distressed Lady was full of other
Thoughts, and desiring him to follow her to her Chamber, as soon as they
were set down, confess’d to him, how, fir’d with his Brother’s Falshood,
she endeavour’d to revenge it upon him, that she had been his Enemy, but
was willing to enter into any Measures for his Satisfaction, provided
he wou’d comply with one, which she should propose, which he faithfully
promising, after she had sworn him to Secrecy, discover’d to him every
Circumstance, from her first Cause of Jealousy, to the Assignation she
had made with the _Baron_; now, said she, it is in your Power to preserve
both your Brother’s Honour, and my Life (which I sooner will resign than
my Vertue) if you stand conceal’d in a little Closet, which I shall
convey you to, and the Moment he has satisfy’d my Curiosity, by telling
me her Name that has undone me, rush out, and be my Protector. The
_Chevalier_ was infinitely Surpriz’d at what he heard, for his Brother
had not given him the least hint of his Passion, but thought the request
she made, too reasonable to be deny’d.

While they were in this Discourse, MELLIORA, who had been sitting
indulging her Melancholly in that Closet which ALOVISA spoke of, and
which did not immediately belong to that Chamber, but was a sort of an
Entry, or Passage, into another, and tir’d with Reflection, was fallen
asleep, but on the noise which ALOVYSA and the _Chevalier_ made in
coming in, wak’d, and heard to her inexpressible trouble, the Discourse
that pass’d between them: She knew that unknown Rival was herself, and
condemn’d the _Count_ of the highest Imprudence, in making a confidant,
as she found he had, of the _Baron_; she saw her Fate, at least that of
her Reputation was now upon the Crisis, that, that very Night she was
to be expos’d to all the Fury of an enrag’d Wife, and was so shook with
apprehension, that she was scarce able to go out of the Closet time
enough to prevent their discovering she was there; what cou’d she do in
this Exigence, the Thoughts of being betray’d, was worse to her than a
thousand Deaths, and it was to be wondred at, as she has since confest,
that in that height of Desparation, she had not put an end to the
Tortures of Reflection, by laying violent Hands on her own Life: As she
was going from the Closet hastily to her own Appartment, the _Count_ and
_Baron_ pass’d her, and that sight heightening the distraction she was
in, she stept to the _Count_, and in a faultring, scarce intelligible
Accent, whisper’d, for Heaven’s Sake let me speak with you before Night,
make some pretence to come to my Chamber, where I’ll wait for you. And
as soon as she had spoke these Words, darted from him so swift, that he
had no opportunity of replying, if he had not been too much overwhelm’d
with Joy at this seeming Change of his Fortune to have done it; he
misunderstood part of what she said, and instead of her desiring to speak
with him _before Night_, he imagin’d, she said _at Night_. He presently
communicated it to the _Baron_, who congratulated him upon it; and never
was any Night more impatiently long’d for, than this was by them both.
They had indeed not many Hours of Expectation, but MELLIORA thought
them Ages; all her hopes were, that if she cou’d have an opportunity of
discovering to _Count_ D’ELMONT what she had heard between his Wife and
Brother, he might find some means to prevent the _Baron’s_ Treachery
from taking Effect. But when Night grew on, and she perceiv’d he came
not, and she consider’d how near she was to inevitable Ruin, what Words
can sufficiently express her Agonies? So I shall only say, they were
too violent to have long kept Company with Life; Guilt, Horrour, Fear,
Remorse, and Shame at once oppress’d her, and she was very near sinking
beneath their Weight, when somebody knock’d softly at the Door; she
made no doubt but it was the _Count_, and open’d it immediately, and he
catching her in his Arms with all the eagerness of transported Love, she
was about to clear his Mistake, and let him know it was not an amourous
Entertainment she expected from him; when a sudden cry of Murder, and the
noise of clashing Swords, made him let go his hold, and draw his own, and
run along the Gallery to find out the occasion, where being in the dark,
and only directed by the noise he heard in his Wife’s Chamber, something
met the point, and a great shriek following it, he cry’d for Lights but
none coming immediately; he stepping farther stumbled at the Body which
had fallen, he then redoubled his outcrys, and MELLIORA, frighted as
she was, brought one from her Chamber, and at the same Instant that
they discover’d it was ALOVISA, who coming to alarm the Family, had by
Accident run on her Husband’s Sword, they saw the _Chevalier_ pursuing
the _Baron_, who mortally wounded, dropt down by ALOVISA’S side; what
a dreadful View was this? The _Count_, MELLIORA, and the Servants, who
by this time were most of them rowz’d, seem’d without Sence or Motion,
only the _Chevalier_ had Spirit enough to speak, or think, so stupify’d
was every one with what they saw. But he ordering the Servants to take
up the Bodies, sent one of ’em immediately for a Surgeon, but they
were both of them past his Art to cure; ALOVISA spoke no more, and the
_Baron_ liv’d but two Days, in which time the whole Account, as it was
gather’d from the Mouths of those chiefly concern’d, was set down, and
the Tragical part of it being laid before the KING, there appear’d so
much of Justice in the _Baron’s_ Death, and Accident in ALOVISA’S, that
the _Count_ and _Chevalier_ found it no difficult matter to obtain their
Pardon. The _Chevalier_ was soon after Married to his beloved ANSELLINA;
but MELLIORA look’d on herself as the most guilty Person upon Earth, as
being the primary Cause of all the Misfortunes that had happen’d, and
retir’d immediately to a Monastery, from whence, not all the entreaties
of her Friends, nor the implorations of the Amorous D’ELMONT cou’d bring
her, she was now resolv’d to punish, by a voluntary Banishment from all
she ever did, or cou’d love; the Guilt of Indulging that Passion, while
it was a Crime. He, not able to live without her, at least in the same
Climate, committed the Care of his Estate to his Brother, and went to
Travel, without an Inclination ever to return: MELANTHA who was not of a
Humour to take any thing to Heart, was Married in a short Time, and had
the good Fortune not to be suspected by her Husband, though she brought
him a Child in Seven Months after her Wedding.




                            _LOVE in Excess:_
                                 OR, THE
                             FATAL INQUIRY,
                                    A
                                 NOVEL.

                        The THIRD and Last PART.

                _Success can then alone your Vows attend,_
                _When Worth’s the Motive, Constancy the End._

                             EPILOGUE to the _Spartan_ Dame.

                           By _Mrs._ Haywood.

                             [Illustration]

                                _LONDON_:
                 Printed for W. CHETWOOD, J. WOODMAN, D.
                         BROWN, and S. CHAPMAN.




[Illustration]




LOVE in EXCESS:

OR, THE

FATAL ENQUIRY.

The Third and Last PART.


Tho’ Count _D’elmont_ never had any tenderness for _Alovisa_, and her
Extravagance of Rage and Jealousie, join’d to his Passion for _Melliora_,
had every Day abated it, yet the manner of her Death was too great a
shock to the sweetness of his Disposition, to be easily worn off; he
cou’d not remember her Uneasiness, without reflecting that it sprung only
from her too violent Affection for him; and tho’ there was no possibility
of living happily with her, when he consider’d that she died, not only
for him, but by his Hand, his Compassion for the Cause, and Horror for
the unwish’d, as well as undesign’d Event, drew Lamentations from him,
more sincere, perhaps, than one of those Husbands, who call themselves
very loving ones, wou’d make.

To alleviate the troubles of his Mind, he had endeavour’d all he cou’d,
to persuade _Melliora_ to continue in his House; but that afflicted Lady
was not to be prevail’d upon, she look’d on her self, as in a manner,
accessary to _Alovisa_’s Death, and thought the least she ow’d to her
Reputation was to see the _Count_ no more, and tho’ in the forming this
Resolution, she felt Torments unconceivable, yet the strength of her
Virtue enabled her to keep it, and she return’d to the Monastery, where
she had been Educated, carrying with her nothing of that Peace of Mind
with which she left it.

Not many Days pass’d between her Departure, and the _Count_’s; he took
his way towards _Italy_, by the Persuasions of his Brother, who, since he
found him bent to Travel, hop’d that Garden of the World might produce
something to divert his Sorrows; he took but two Servants with him, and
those rather for conveniency than State: _Ambition_, once his darling
Passion, was now wholly extinguish’d in him by these Misfortunes, and he
no longer thought of making a Figure in the World; but his _Love_ nothing
cou’d abate, and ’tis to be believ’d that the violence of that wou’d have
driven him to the use of some fatal Remedy, if the _Chevalier Brillian_,
to whom he left the Care of _Melliora_’s and her Brother’s Fortune as
well as his own, had not, tho’ with much difficulty, obtain’d a Promise
from her, of conversing with him by Letters.

This was all he had to keep hope alive, and indeed it was no
inconsiderable Consolation, for she that allows a Correspondence of that
Kind with a Man that has any Interest in her Heart, can never persuade
herself, while she does so, to make him become indifferent to her.
When we give our selves the liberty of even talking of the Person we
have once lov’d, and find the least pleasure in that Discourse, ’tis
ridiculous to imagine we are free from that Passion, without which, the
mention of it would be but insipid to our Ears, and the remembrance
to our Minds, tho’ our Words are never so Cold, they are the Effects
of a secret Fire, which burns not with less Strength for not being
Dilated. The _Count_ had too much Experience of all the Walks and Turns
of Passion to be ignorant of this, if _Melliora_ had endeavour’d to
disguise her Sentiments, but she went not so far, she thought it a
sufficient vindication of her Virtue, to withold the rewarding of his
Love, without feigning a coldness to which she was a stranger, and he
had the satisfaction to observe a tenderness in her Stile, which assur’d
him, that her _Heart_ was unalterably his, and very much strengthen’d his
Hopes, that one Day her Person might be so too, when time had a little
effac’d the Memory of those Circumstances, which had obliged her to put
this constraint on her Inclinations.

He wrote to her from every Post-Town, and waited till he receiv’d
her Answer, by this means his Journey was extreamly tedious, but no
Adventures of any moment, falling in his way ’till he came to _Rome_, I
shall not trouble my Readers with a recital of particulars which cou’d be
no way Entertaining.

But, how strangely do they deceive themselves, who fancy that they are
Lovers, yet on every little turn of Fortune, or Change of Circumstance,
are agitated, with any Vehemence, by Cares of a far different Nature?
_Love_ is too jealous, too arbitrary a Monarch to suffer any other
Passion to equalize himself in that Heart where he has fix’d his Throne.
When once enter’d, he becomes the whole Business of our Lives, we
think----we Dream of nothing else, nor have a Wish not inspir’d by him:
Those who have the Power to apply themselves so seriously to any other
Consideration as to forget him, tho’ but for a Moment, are but Lovers in
Conceit, and have entertain’d Desire but as an agreeable Amusement, which
when attended with any Inconvenience, they may without much difficulty
shake off. Such a sort of Passion may be properly enough call’d _Liking_,
but falls widely short of _Love_. _Love_, is what we can neither resist,
expel, nor even alleviate, if we should never so vigorously attempt it;
and tho’ some have boasted, _Thus far will I yield and no farther_, they
have been convinc’d of the Vanity of forming such Resolutions by the
impossibility of keeping them. _Liking_ is a flashy Flame, which is to
be kept alive only by ease and delight. _Love_, needs not this fewel
to maintain its Fire, it survives in Absence, and disappointments, it
endures, unchill’d, the wintry Blasts of cold Indifference and Neglect,
and continues its Blaze, even in a storm of Hatred and Ingratitude,
and Reason, Pride, or a just sensibility of conscious Worth, in vain
oppose it. _Liking_, plays gaily round, feeds on the Sweets in gross,
but is wholly insensible of the Thorns which guard the nicer, and more
refin’d Delicacies of Desire, and can consequently give neither Pain, nor
Pleasure in any superlative degree. _Love_ creates intollerable Torments!
Unspeakable Joys! Raises us to the highest Heaven of Happiness, or sinks
us to the lowest Hell of Misery.

Count _D’elmont_ experienc’d the Truth of this Assertion; for neither
his just concern for the manner of _Alovisa_’s Death cou’d curb the
Exuberance of his Joy, when he consider’d himself belov’d by _Melliora_,
nor any Diversion of which _Rome_ afforded great Variety, be able to make
him support being absent from her with Moderation. There are I believe,
but few modern Lovers, how Passionate and constant soever they pretend to
be, who wou’d not in the _Count_’s Circumstances have found some matter
of Consolation; but he seem’d wholly dead to Gaiety. In vain, all the
_Roman_ Nobility courted his acquaintance; in vain the Ladies made use
of their utmost Artifice to engage him: He prefer’d a solitary Walk, a
lonely Shade, or the Bank of some purling Stream, where he undisturb’d
might contemplate on his belov’d _Melliora_, to all the noisy Pleasures
of the Court, or the endearments of the inviting Fair. In fine, he shun’d
as much as possible all Conversation with the Men, or Correspondence with
the Women; returning all their _Billet-Doux_, of which scarce a Day past,
without his receiving some, unanswer’d.

This manner of Behaviour in a little time deliver’d him from the
Persecutions of the Discreet; but having receiv’d one Letter which he had
us’d as he had done the rest, it was immediately seconded by another;
both which contain’d as follows:

    [Illustration]

    LETTER I.

    To the never Enough Admir’d COUNT D’ELMONT.

    _In your Country, where Women are allow’d the priveledge of
    being seen and Address’d to, it wou’d be a Crime unpardonable
    to Modesty, to make the first Advances. But here, where rigid
    Rules are Bar’s, as well to Reason, as to Nature: It wou’d be
    as great one, to feign an Infidelity of your Merit. I say,
    feign, for I look on it, as an impossibility really to behold
    you with Indifferency: But, if I cou’d believe that any of my
    Sex were in good earnest so dull, I must confess, I shou’d Envy
    that happy Stupidity, which wou’d secure me from the Pains
    such a Passion, as you create, must Inflict; unless, from the
    Millions whom your Charms have preach’d; you have yet a corner
    of your Heart Unpreposess’d; and an Inclination willing to
    receive the Impression of_,

                    Your most Passionate and Tender,
              (but ’till she receives a favourable Answer)

                                               Your unknown Adorer.

    [Illustration]

    LETTER II.

    To the Ungrateful D’ELMONT.

    _Unworthy of the Happiness design’d you! Is it thus, That
    you return the Condescention of a Lady? How fabulous is
    Report, which speaks those of your Country, warm and full
    of amorous Desires?--Thou, sure, art colder than the bleak
    northern Islanders--dull, stupid Wretch! Insensible of every
    Passion which give Lustre to the Soul, and differ Man from
    Brute!--Without Gratitude--Without Love--Without Desire--Dead,
    even to Curiosity!--How I cou’d despise Thee for this
    narrowness of Mind, were there not something in thy Eyes and
    Mein which assure me, that this negligent Behaviour is but
    affected; and that there are within thy Breast, some Seeds
    of hidden Fire, which want but the Influence of Charms, more
    potent perhaps, than you have yet beheld, to kindle into Blaze.
    Make hast then to be Enliven’d, for I flatter my self ’tis in
    my Power to work this wonder, and long to inspire so Lovely a
    Form with Sentiments only worthy of it.--The Bearer of this,
    is a Person who I dare Confide in--Delay not to come with him,
    for when once you are Taught what ’tis to Love; you’ll not be
    Ignorant that doubtful Expectation is the worst of Racks, and
    from your own Experience. Pity what I feel, thus chill’d with
    Doubt, yet burning with Desire._

                                                Yours, Impatiently.

The _Count_ was pretty much surpriz’d at the odd Turn of this _Billet_;
but being willing to put an End to the Ladies Trouble, as well as his
own; sat down, and without giving himself much Time to think, writ these
Lines in Answer to Hers.

    [Illustration]

    To the Fair INCOGNITA.

    MADAM,

    _If you have no other design in Writing to me, than your
    DIVERSION, methinks my Mourning Habit, to which my Countenance
    and Behaviour are no way Unconformable, might inform you, I am
    little dispos’d for Raillery. If in EARNEST you can find any
    thing in me which pleases you, I must confess my self entirely
    unworthy of the Honour, not only by my personal Demerits, but
    by the Resolution I have made, of Conversing with none of your
    Sex while I continue in ITALY. I shou’d be sorry however to
    incurr the Aspersion of an unmannerly Contemner of Favours,
    which tho’ I do not DESIRE, I pretend not to DESERVE. I
    therefore beg you will believe that I return this, as I did
    your Former, only to let you see, that since I decline making
    any use of your Condescentions to my Advantage; I am not
    ungenerous enough to do so to your Prejudice, and to all Ladies
    deserving the regard of a Disinterested Well-wisher; shall be
    an_

                                        Humble Servant, _D’Elmont_.

The _Count_ order’d one of his Servants to deliver this Letter to the
Person who brought the other; but he return’d immediately with it in his
Hand, and told his Lordship that he cou’d not prevail on the Fellow to
take it; that he said he had business with the _Count_, and must needs
see him, and was so Importunate, that he seem’d rather to _Demand_, than
_Entreat_ a Grant of his Request. D’ELMONT was astonish’d, as well he
might, but commanded he should be admitted.

Nothing cou’d be more comical than the appearance of this Fellow, he
seem’d to be about three-score Years of Age, but Time had not been the
greatest Enemy to his Face, for the Number of Scars, was far exceeding
that of Wrincles, he was tall above the common Stature, but so lean,
that, till he spoke, he might have been taken for one of those Wretches
who have pass’d the Hands of the Anatomists, nor wou’d his Walk have
dissipated that Opinion, for all his Motions, as he enter’d the Chamber,
had more of the Air of Clock-work, than of Nature; his Dress was not
less particular; he had on a Suit of Cloaths, which might perhaps have
been good in the Days of his Great Grand-father, but the Person who they
fitted must have been five times larger about the Body than him who wore
them; a large broad buff Belt however remedy’d that Inconvenience, and
girt them close about his Waste, in which hung a Faulchion, two Daggers,
and a Sword of a more than ordinary Extent; the rest of his Equipage was
a Cloak, which buttoning round his Neck fell not so low as his Hips, a
Hat, which in rainy weather kept his Shoulders dry much better than an
_Indian_ Umbrella, one Glove, and a formidable pair of Whiskers. As soon
as he saw the _Count_, my Lord, said he, with a very impudent Air, my
Orders were to bring your self, not a Letter from you, nor do I use to be
employ’d in Affairs of this Nature, but to serve one of the richest and
most beautiful Ladies in _Rome_, who I assure you, it will be dangerous
to disoblige. _D’elmont_ ey’d him intentively all the time he spoke,
and cou’d scarce, notwithstanding his Chagreen, forbear Laughing at the
Figure he made, and the manner of his Salutation. I know not, answer’d
he, Ironically, what Employments you have been us’d to, but certainly you
appear to me, one of the most unfit Persons in the World for what you
now undertake, and if the Contents of the Paper you brought me, had not
inform’d me of your Abilities this Way, I should never have suspected you
for one of _Cupid_’s Agents: You are merry, my Lord, reply’d the other,
but I must tell you, I am a Man of Family and Honour, and shall not put
up an Affront; but, continued he, shaking the few Hairs which frequent
Skirmishes had left upon his Head, I shall defer my own satisfaction
’till I have procur’d the Ladies; therefore, if your Lordship will
prepare to follow, I shall walk before, at a perceivable Distance, and
without St. _Peter_’s Key, open the Gate of Heaven. I should be apt (said
the _Count_, not able to keep his Countenance at these Words) rather to
take it for the other Place; but be it as it will; I have not the least
Inclination to make the Experiment, therefore, you may walk as soon as
you please without expecting me to accompany you. Then you absolutely
refuse to go (cry’d the Fellow, clapping his Hand on his Forhead, and
staring at him, as if he meant to scare him into Compliance!) Yes
(answer’d the _Count_, laughing more and more) I shall neither go, nor
waste any farther time or Words with you, so wou’d advise you not to be
saucy, or tarry till my Anger gets the better of my Mirth, but take the
Letter and be gone, and trouble me no more. The other, at these Words
laid his Hand on his Sword, and was about to make some very impudent
Reply, when _D’elmont_, growing weary of his Impertinence, made a Sign
to his Servants, that they should turn him out, which he perceiving,
took up the Letter without being bid a second time, and muttering some
unintelligible Curses between his Teeth, march’d out, in the same
affected Strut, with which he enter’d.

This Adventure, tho’ surprizing enough to a Person so entirely
unacquainted with the Character and Behaviour of these _Bravo_’s, as
_D’elmont_ was, gave him but very little matter of Reflection, and it
being the time for Evening Service at St. _Peter_’s, he went, according
to his Custom, to hear _Vesper_’s there.

Nothing is more Common, than for the Nobility and Gentry of _Rome_,
to divert themselves with Walking, and talking to one another in the
_Collonade_ after Mass, and the _Count_, tho’ averse to all other publick
Assemblies, wou’d sometimes spend an Hour or two there.

As he was walking there this Evening, a Lady of a very gallant Mein
pass’d swiftly by him, and flurting out her Handkerchief with a careless
Air, as it were by Chance, drop’d an _Agnus Dei_ set round with Diamonds
at his Feet, he had too much Complaisance to neglect endeavouring to
overtake the Lady, and prevent the Pain he imagin’d she wou’d be in,
when she shou’d miss so rich a Jewel: But she, who knew well enough what
she had done, left the Walk where the Company were, and cross’d over
to the Fountain, which being more retir’d was the most proper for her
Design: She stood looking on the Water, in a thoughtful Posture, when
the _Count_ came up to her, and bowing, with an Air peculiar to himself,
and which all his Chagreen could not deprive of an irresistable Power of
attraction, Presented the _Agnus Dei_ to her. I think my self, Madam,
said he, highly indebted to Fortune, for making me the means of your
recovering a Jewel, the Loss of which wou’d certainly have given you
some disquiet: Oh Heavens! cry’d she, receiving it with an affected Air
of Surprize, could a Trifle like this, which I knew not that I had let
fall, nor perhaps shou’d have thought on more, cou’d this, and belonging
to a Woman too, meet the Regard of him, who prides in his Insensibility?
Him! Who has no Eyes for Beauty, nor no Heart for Love! As she spoke
these Words she contriv’d to let her Vail fall back as if by Accident,
and discover’d a Face, Beautiful even to Perfection! Eyes black and
sparkling, a Mouth form’d to Invite, a Skin dazlingly white, thro’ which
a most delightful Bloom diffus’d a chearful Warmth, and glow’d in amorous
Blushes on her Cheeks. The _Count_ could not forbear gazing on her
with Admiration, and perhaps, was, for a Moment, pretty near receeding
from that Insensibility she had reproach’d him with; but the Image of
MELLIORA, yet unenjoy’d, all ravishingly Kind and Tender, rose presently
in his Soul, fill’d all his Faculties, and left no Passage free for
rival Charms. Madam, said he after a little Pause, the _Italian_ Ladies
take care to skreen their too dazling Lustre behind a Cloud, and, if I
durst take that Liberty, have certainly reason to Tax your Accusation
of Injustice; he, on whom the Sun has never vouchsafed to shine, ought
not to be condemn’d for not acknowledging its brightness; yours is the
first Female Face I have beheld, since my Arrival here, and it wou’d have
been as ridiculous to have feign’d my self susceptible of Charms which
I had never seen, as it wou’d be Stupidity, not to confess those I now
do, worthy Adoration. Well, resum’d she smiling, if not the _Lover_’s,
I find, you know how to Act the _Courtier_’s Part, but continued she,
looking languishingly on him, all you can say, will scarce make me
believe, that there requires not a much brighter Sun than mine, to Thaw
a certain Frozen _Resolution_, you pretend to have made. There need no
more to confirm the _Count_ in the Opinion he had before conceiv’d, that
this was the Lady from whom he had receiv’d the two Letters that Day,
and thought he had now the fairest Opportunity in the World to put an
End to her Passion, by assuring her how impossible it was for him ever
to return it, and was forming an Answer to that purpose; when a pretty
deal of Company coming toward them, she drew her Vail over her Face, and
turning hastily from him, mingled with some Ladies, who seem’d to be of
her Acquaintance.

The _Count_ knew by experience, the unutterable Perturbations of
Suspence, and what agonizing Tortures rend an amorous Soul, divided
betwixt Hope and Fear: Despair itself is not so Cruel as Uncertainty,
and in all Ills, especially in those of Love, it is less Misery to
_Know_, than _Dread_ the worst. The Remembrance of what he had suffer’d
thus agitated, in the Beginning of his Passion for _Melliora_, made him
extreamly pity the unknown Lady, and regret her sudden Departure; because
it had prevented him from setting her into so much of his Circumstances,
as he believ’d were necessary to induce her to recall her Heart. But
when he consider’d how much he had struggled, and how far he had been
from being able to repel Desire, he began to wonder that it cou’d ever
enter into his Thoughts that there was even a possibility for _Woman_, so
much stronger in her Fancy, and weaker in her Judgment, to suppress the
Influence of that powerful Passion; against which, no Laws, no Rules, no
Force of Reason, or Philosophy, are sufficient Guard.

These Reflections gave no small Addition to his Melancholy; _Amena_’s
Retirement from the World; _Alovisa_’s Jealousy and Death; _Melliora_’s
Peace of Mind and Reputation, and the Despair of several, whom he was
sensible, the Love of him, had rendred miserable, came fresh into his
Memory, and he look’d on himself as most unhappy, in being the occasion
of making others so.

The Night which succeeded this Day of Adventures, chancing to be abroad
pretty late; as he was passing thro’ a Street, he heard a Clashing of
Swords, and going nearer to the place where the Noise was, he perceiv’d
by some Lights which glimmer’d from a distant Door, a Gentleman defending
himself with much Bravery against Three, who seem’d eager for his Death.
_D’elmont_ was mov’d to the highest Indignation at the sight of such
Baseness; and drawing his Sword, flew furiously on the Assassins, just as
one of them was about to run his Sword into the Breast of the Gentleman;
who, by the breaking of his own Blade, was left unarm’d. _Turn Villain_,
cry’d D’elmont, _or while you are acting that Inhumanly, receive the
just Reward of it from me_. The Ruffian fac’d about immediately, and made
a Pass at him, while one of his Comrades did the same on the other side;
and the third was going to execute on the Gentleman, what his fellows
Surprize had made him leave undone: But he now gain’d Time to pull a
Pistol out of his Pocket, with which he shot him in a Moment dead, and
snatching his Sword from him as he fell, ran to assist the _Count_, who
’tis likely wou’d have stood in need of it, being engag’d with two, and
those the most desparate sort of _Bravo’s_, Villains that make a Trade
of Death. But the Noise of the Pistol made them apprehensive there was a
farther Rescue, and put ’em to flight. The Gentleman seem’d agitated with
a more than ordinary Fury; and instead of staying to Thank the _Count_,
or enquire how he had escap’d, ran in pursuit of those who had assaulted
him, so swiftly, that it was in vain for the _Count_, not being well
acquainted with the Turnings of the Streets, to attempt to follow him, if
he had a Mind to it: But seeing there was a Man kill’d, and not knowing
either the Persons who fought, or the occasion of their Quarrel, he
rightly judg’d, that being a Stranger in the place, his Word wou’d not be
very readily taken in his own Vindication; therefore thought his wisest
Course wou’d be to make off, with what Speed he cou’d, to his Lodging.
While he was considering, he saw something on the Ground which glitter’d
extreamly; and taking it up, found that it was part of the Sword which
the assaulted Gentleman had the Misfortune to have broke: The Hilt was of
a fine Piece of Agate, set round on the Top with Diamonds, which made him
believe the Person whom he had preserv’d, was of considerable Quality, as
well as Bravery.

He had not gone many Paces from the place where the Skirmish happened,
before a Cry of Murder met his Ears, and a great Concourse of People
his Eyes: He had receiv’d two or three slight Wounds, which, tho’ not
much more than Skin-deep, had made his Linnen bloody, and he knew wou’d
be sufficient to make him be apprehended, if he were seen, which it was
very difficult to avoid: He was in a narrow Street, which had no Turning,
and the Crowd was very near him, when looking round him with a good deal
of Vexation in his Thoughts, he discern’d a Wall, which in one part of
it seem’d pretty low: He presently resolv’d to climb it, and trust to
Fortune for what might befall him on the other side, rather than stay
to be expos’d to the Insults of the Outrageous Mob; who, ignorant of
his Quality, and looking no farther than the outside of Things, wou’d
doubtless have consider’d him no otherwise, than a Midnight _Rioter_.

When he was got over the Wall, he found himself in a very fine Garden,
adorn’d with Fountains, Statues, Groves, and every Ornament, that Art,
or Nature, cou’d produce, for the Delight of the Owner: At the upper End
there was a Summer-house, into which he went, designing to stay ’till the
Search was over.

But He had not been many Moments in his Concealment before he saw a Door
open from the House, and two Women come out; they walk’d directly up to
the place where he was; he made no doubt but that they design’d to enter,
and retir’d into the farthest Corner of it: As they came pretty near,
he found they were earnest in Discourse, but cou’d understand nothing
of what they said, ’till she, who seem’d to be the Chief, raising her
Voice a little higher than she had done: Talk no more, _Brione_ said
she, if e’re thy Eyes are Blest to see this Charmer of my Soul, thou
wil’t cease to wonder at my Passion; great as it is, ’tis wanting of
his Merit.----Oh! He is more than Raptur’d Poets feign, or Fancy can
invent! Suppose Him so, (_cry’d the other_,) yet still he wants that
Charm which shou’d Endear the others to you---Softness,---Heavens! To
Return your Letters! To Insult your Messenger! To slight such Favours as
any Man of Soul wou’d die to obtain! Methinks such Usage shou’d make
him odious to you,---even I shou’d scorn so spiritless a Wretch. Peace,
thou Prophaner, _said the Lady in an angry Tone_, such Blasphemy deserves
a Stab----But thou hast never heard his Voice, nor seen his Eyes, and I
forgive Thee. Have you then spoke to him, _interrupted the Confidant_,
Yes, _answer’d the Lady_, and by that Conversation, am more undone than
ever; it was to tell thee this Adventure, I came to Night into this
agreeable Solitude. With these Words they came into the Summer-house,
and the Lady seating her self on a Bench; Thou know’st, _resum’d she_, I
went this Evening to Saint _Peter_’s, there I saw the glorious Man; saw
him in all his Charms; and while I bow’d my Knee, in show to Heaven, my
Soul was prostrate only to him. When the Ceremony was over, perceiving
he stay’d in the _Collonade_, I had no power to leave it, but stood,
regardless who observ’d me, gazing on him with Transports, which only
those who Love like me, can guess!---God! With what an Air he walk’d!
What new Attractions dwelt in every Motion---And when he return’d the
Salutes of any that pass’d by him, how graceful was his Bow! How lofty
his Mein, and yet, how affable!----A sort of an inexpressible awful
Grandeur, blended with tender Languishments, strikes the amaz’d Beholder
at once with Fear and Joy!---Something beyond Humanity shines round him!
Such looks descending Angels wear, when sent on Heavenly Embassies to
some Favourite Mortal! Such is their Form! Such Radient Beams they dart;
and with such Smiles they temper their Divinity with Softness!---Oh! With
what Pain did I restrain my self from flying to him! from rushing into
his Arms! From hanging on his Neck, and wildly uttering all the furious
Wishes of my burning Soul!-----I trembled-----panted----rag’d with inward
Agonies. Nor was all the Reason I cou’d muster up, sufficient to bear me
from his Sight, without having first spoke to him. To that end I ventur’d
to pass by him, and drop’d an _Agnus Dei_ at his Feet, believing that
wou’d give him an Occasion of following me, which he did immediately, and
returning it to me, discover’d a new Hoard of unimagin’d Charms----All my
fond Soul confess’d before of his Perfections, were mean to what I now
beheld! Had’st thou but seen how he approach’d me--with what an awful
Reverence---with what a soft beseeching, yet commanding Air, he kiss’d
the happy Trifle, as he gave it me, thou would’st have envy’d it as
well as I! At last he spoke, and with an Accent so Divine, that if the
sweetest Musick were compar’d to the more Celestial Harmony of his Voice,
it wou’d only serve to prove how vastly _Nature_ do’s excell all _Art_.
But, Madam, _cry’d the other_, I am impatient to know the End of this
Affair; for I presume you discover’d to him both what, and who you were?
My Face only, reply’d the Lady, for e’re I had opportunity to do more,
that malicious Trifler, _Violetta_, perhaps envious of my Happiness,
came toward us with a Crowd of Impertinents at her Heels. Curse on the
Interruption, and broke off our Conversation, just at that Blest, but
Irrecoverable Moment, when I perceiv’d in my Charming Conqueror’s Eyes,
a growing Tenderness, sufficient to encourage me to reveal my own.
Yes, _Brione_, those lovely Eyes, while fix’d on mine, shone, with a
Lustre, uncommon, even to themselves---A livelier Warmth o’erspread his
Cheeks----Pleasure sat smiling on his Lips----those Lips, my Girl, which
even when they are silent, speak; but when unclos’d, and the sweet Gales
of balmy Breath blow on you, he kills you in a Sigh; each hurry’d Sense
is ravish’d and your Soul glows with Wonder and Delight. Oh! To be forc’d
to leave him in this Crisis, when new desire began to dawn; when Love its
most lively Symptoms was apparent, and seem’d to promise all my Wishes
covet, what Separation ever was so cruel? Compose your self, dear Madam,
said _Brione_, if he be really in Love; as who so Insensible as not to be
so, that once has seen your Charms? That _Love_ will teach him speedily
to find out an opportunity as favourable as that which you have lately
miss’d; or if he shou’d want Contrivance to procure his own Happiness,
’tis but your writing to appoint a Meeting. He must---He shall be mine!
Cry’d the Lady in a Rapture, My Love, fierce as it was before, from Hope
receives Addition to its Fury; I rave---I burn---I am mad with wild
Desires---I die, _Brione_, if I not possess him. In speaking these Words,
she threw her self down on a Carpet which was spread upon the Floor; and
after sighing two or three times, continued to discover the Violence of
her impatient Passion in this manner: Oh that this Night, said she, were
past,---the Blisful Expectation of to morrows Joys, and the distracting
Doubts of Disappointment, swell my unequal beating Heart by turns, and
rack me with Vicissitudes of Pain-----I cannot live and bear it----soon
as the Morning breaks, I’ll know my Doom----I’ll send to him----but
’tis an Age till then----Oh that I cou’d sleep---Sleep might perhaps
anticipate the Blessing, and bring him in Idea to my Arms----but ’tis in
vain to hope one Moment’s cool Serenity in Love like mine--my anxious
Thoughts hurry my Senses in Eternal Watchings!---Oh _D’elmont! D’elmont!_
Tranquill, Cold, and Calm _D’elmont!_ Little doest thou guess the Tempest
thou hast rais’d within my Soul, nor know’st to pity these consuming
Fires!

The _Count_ list’ned to all this Discourse with a World of Uneasiness and
Impatience; and tho’ at the first he fancy’d he remember’d the Voice, and
had Reason enough from the beginning, especially when the _Agnus Dei_ was
mention’d, to believe it cou’d be no other than himself, whom the Lady
had so passionately describ’d; yet he had not Confidence to appear till
she had nam’d him; but then, no consideration was of force to make him
neglect this opportunity of undeceiving her; his good Sense, as well as
good Nature, kept him from that Vanity, too many of his Sex imitate the
weaker in, of being pleas’d that it was in his Power to create Pains,
which it was not in his Power, so devoted as he was, to Ease.

He stept from his Retirement as softly as he cou’d, because he was
loath to alarm them with any Noise, ’till they shou’d discover who it
was that made it, which they might easily do, in his advancing toward
them never so little, that part of the Bower being much lighter than
that where he had stood; but with his over-caution in sliding his Feet
along, to prevent being heard, one of them tangled in the Corner of the
Carpet, which happened not to lie very smooth, and not being sensible
presently what it was that Embarrass’d him: He fell with part of his
Body cross the Lady, and his Head in _Brione_’s Lap, who was sitting
on the Ground by her. The Manner of his Fall was lucky enough, for it
hinder’d either of them from rising, and running to alarm the Family,
as certainly in such a fright they wou’d have done, if his Weight had
not detain’d them; they both gave a great Shriek, but the House being
at a good distance, they cou’d not easily be heard; and he immediately
recovering himself, beg’d Pardon for the Terror he had occasion’d them;
and addressing to the Lady, who at first was dying with her Fears, and
now with Consternation: _D’elmont_, Madam, said he, cou’d not have had
the Assurance to appear before you, after hearing those undeserv’d
Praises your Excess of Goodness has been pleas’d to bestow upon him, but
that his Soul wou’d have reproach’d him of the highest Ingratitude, in
permitting you to continue longer in an Error, which may involve you in
the greatest of Misfortunes, at least I am----As he was speaking, three
or four Servants with Lights came running from the House; and the Lady,
tho’ in more Confusion than can be well exprest, had yet Presence of
Mind enough to bid the _Count_ retire to the place where he had stood
before, while she and _Brione_ went out of the Summer-house to learn
the Cause of this Interruption: Madam, cry’d one of the Servants,
as soon as he saw her, the Officers of Justice are within; who being
rais’d by an Alarm of Murther, come to beg your Ladyships Permission
to search your Garden, being, as they say, inform’d that the Offender
made his Escape over this Wall. ’Tis very improbable, reply’d the Lady,
for I have been here a considerable Time, and have neither heard the
least Noise, nor seen any Body: However they may search, and satisfy
themselves----go you, and tell them so. Then turning to the _Count_, when
she had dismiss’d her Servants; My Lord, said she Trembling, I know not
what strange Adventure brought you here to Night, or whether you are the
Person for whom the Search is made; but am sensible, if you are found
here, it will be equally injurious to your Safety, and my Reputation; I
have a Back-door, thro’ which you may pass in Security: But, if you have
Honour, (continu’d she) Sighing, Gratitude, or good Nature, you will let
me see you to morrow Night. Madam, (reply’d he,) assure your self that
there are not many things I more earnestly desire than an opportunity to
convince you, how sensibly I am touch’d with your Favours, and how much
I regret my want of Power to---you, (interrupted she,) can want nothing
but the _Will_ to make me the happiest of my Sex---but this is no Time
for you to _Give_, or me to _Receive_ any Proofs of that Return which I
expect----Once more I conjure you to be here to morrow Night at Twelve,
where the Faithful _Brione_ shall attend to admit you. Farewell---be
punctual and sincere--’Tis all I ask---when I am not, (answer’d he,) may
all my Hopes forsake me. By this time they were come to the Door, which
_Brione_, opening softly, let him out, and shut it again immediately.

The _Count_ took care to Remark the place that he might know it again,
resolving nothing more than to make good his Promise at the appointed
Hour, but cou’d not help being extreamly troubled, when he consider’d
how unwelcome his Sincerity wou’d be, and the Confusion he must give
the Lady, when instead of those Raptures the Violence of her mistaken
Passion made her hope, she shou’d meet with only cold Civility, and the
killing History of the Pre-engagement of his Heart. In these and the
like melancholly Reflections he spent the Night; and when Morning came,
receiv’d the severest Augmentation of them, which Fate cou’d load him
with.

It was scarce full Day when a Servant came into his Chamber to acquaint
him, that a young Gentleman, a Stranger, desir’d to be admitted, and
seem’d so impatient till he was, That, said the Fellow, not knowing of
what Consequence his Business may be, I thought it better to Risque your
Lordship’s Displeasure for this early Disturbance, than by dismissing
him, fill you with an unsatisfy’d Curiosity. The _Count_ was far from
being Angry, and commanded that the Gentleman should be brought up, which
Order being immediately obey’d, and the Servant withdrawn out of Respect:
Putting his Head out of the Bed, he was surpriz’d with the Appearance of
one of the most beautiful _Chevaliers_ he had ever beheld, and in whose
Face, he imagin’d he trac’d some Features not Unknown to him. Pardon,
me Sir, said he, throwing the Curtains more back than they were before,
that I receive the Honour you do me, in this manner---but being ignorant
of your Name, Quality, the Reason of your desire to see me, or any thing
but your Impatience to do so, in gratifying that, I fear, I have injur’d
the Respect, which I believe, is due, and which, I am sure, my Heart
is inclinable to pay to you. Visits, like mine, reply’d the Stranger,
require but little Ceremony, and I shall easily remit that Respect you
talk of, while I am unknown to you, provided you will give me one Mark of
it, that I shall ask of you, when you do. There are very few, reply’d
_D’elmont_, that I cou’d refuse to one, whose Aspect Promises to deserve
so many. First then, cry’d the other pretty warmly, I demand a Sister
of you, and not only her, but a Reparation of her Honour, which can be
done no otherwise than by your Blood. It is impossible to represent the
_Count_’s astonishment at these Words, but conscious of his Innocence
in any such Affair: I shou’d be sorry _Seignior_, said he cooly, that
Precipitation should hurry you to do any Action you wou’d afterwards
Repent; you must certainly be mistaken in the Person to whom you are
talking--Yet, if I were rash like you, what fatal Consequences might
ensue; but there is something in your Countenance which engages me to
wish a more friendly Interview than what you speak of: Therefore wou’d
persuade you to consider calmly, and you will soon find, and acknowledge
your Mistake; and, to further that Reflection, I assure you, that I am
so far from Conversing with any Lady, in the Manner you seem to hint,
that I scarcely know the Name, or Face of any one.---Nay, more, I give
you my Word, to which I joyn my Honour, that, as I never _have_, I never
_will_ make the least Pretensions of that kind to any Woman during the
Time of my Residence here. This poor Evasion, reply’d the Stranger
with a Countenance all inflam’d, ill suits a Man of Honour.---This is
no _Roman_, no, _Italian Bono-Roba_, who I mean----but _French_ like
you----like both of us.----And if your Ingratitude had not made it
necessary for your Peace, to erace all Memory of _Monsieur Frankville_,
you wou’d before now, by the near resemblance I bear to him, have known
me for his Son, and that ’tis _Melliora_’s---the fond---the lost---the
ruin’d _Melliora_’s Cause which calls for Vengeance from her Brother’s
Arm! Never was any Soul agitated with more violent Emotions, than that of
Count _D’elmont_ at these Words. Doubt, Grief, Resentment, and Amazement,
made such a Confusion in his Thoughts, that he was unable for some
Moments to answer this cruel Accusation; and when he did, the Brother
of _Melliora_ said he with a deep Sigh, wou’d certainly have been, next
to her self, the most welcome Person upon Earth to me; and my Joy to
have Embrac’d him as the dearest of my Friends, at least have equall’d
the Surprize I am in, to find him without Cause, my Enemy.---But, Sir,
if such a Favour may be granted to an unwilling Foe, I wou’d desire to
know, Why you joyn _Ruin_ to your Sisters Name? Oh! Give me Patience
Heaven, cry’d young _Frankville_ more enrag’d; is this a Question fit
for you to ask, or me to Answer? Is not her Honour Tainted---Fame
betray’d.---Her self a Vagabond, and her House abus’d, and all by you;
the unfaithful Guardian of her injur’d Innocence?---And can you ask the
Cause?----No, rather rise this Moment, and if you are a Man, who dare
maintain the ill you have done, defend it with your Sword; not with vain
Words and Womanish Excuses: All the other Passions which had warr’d
within _D’elmont_’s Breast, now gave way to Indignation: Rash young
Man, said he, jumping hastily out of the Bed, and beginning to put his
Cloaths on: Your Father wou’d not thus have us’d me; nor, did he Live,
cou’d blame me, for vindicating as I ought my wounded Honour----That I
do Love your Sister, is as True, as that you have wrong’d me---Basely
wrong’d me. But that her Virtue suffers by that Love, is false! And I
must write the Man that speaks it, _Lyar_, tho’ in her Brother’s Heart.
Many other violent Expressions to the same Effect, pass’d between them,
while the _Count_ was dressing himself, for he wou’d suffer no Servant to
come in, to be Witness of his Disorder. But the steady Resolution with
which he had attested his Innocence, and that inexpressible sweetness of
Deportment, equally Charming to both Sexes, and which, not even _Anger_
cou’d render less graceful, extreamly cool’d the Heat _Frankville_ had
been in a little before, and he in secret, began to recede very much
from the ill Opinion he had conceiv’d, tho’ the greatness of his Spirit
kept him from acknowledging he had been in an Error; ’till chancing to
cast his Eyes on a Table which stood in the Chamber, he saw the hilt of
the broken Sword which _D’elmont_ had brought home the Night before,
lying on it; he took it up, and having first look’d on it with some
Confusion in his Countenance. My Lord, said he, turning to the _Count_,
I conjure you, before we proceed further, to acquaint me truely, how
this came into your Possession, Tho’ _D’elmont_ had as great a Courage,
when any laudable Occasion appear’d to call it forth, as any Man that
ever liv’d, yet his natural Disposition had such an uncommon Sweetness
in it, as no Provocation cou’d sowre; it was always a much greater
Pleasure to him to _Forgive_ than _Punish_ Injuries; and if at any time
he was _Angry_, he was never _Rude_, or _Unjust_. The little starts of
Passion, _Frankville_’s rash Behaviour had occasion’d, all dissolv’d
in his more accustomary Softness, when he perceiv’d the other growing
Calm. And answering to his Question, with the most obliging Accent in
the World: It was my good Fortune, (said he) to be instrumental last
Night, in the Rescue of a Gentleman who appear’d to have much Bravery,
and being Attack’d by odds, behav’d himself in such a Manner, as wou’d
have made him stand but little in need of my Assistance, if his Sword
had been equal to the Arm which held it; but the breaking of that, gave
me the Glory of not being unserviceable to him. After the Skirmish was
over, I took it up, hoping it might be the means sometime or other of
my discovering who the Person was, who wore it; not out of Vanity of
receiving Thanks for the little I have done, but that I shou’d be glad of
the Friendship of a Person, who seems so worthy my Esteem. Oh far! (cry’d
_Frankville_, with a Tone and Gesture quite alter’d,) infinitely far from
it--It was my self whom you preserv’d; that very Man whose Life you but
last Night so generously redeem’d, with the hazard of your own, comes
now prepar’d to make the first use of it against you---Is it possible
that you can be so heavenly good to Pardon my wild Passions Heat? Let
this be witness, with what Joy I do, answer’d the _Count_, tenderly
Embracing him, which the other eagerly returning; they continu’d lock’d
in each others Arms for a considerable Time, neither of them being able
to say more, than---And was it _Frankville_ I Preserv’d!----And was it to
_D’elmont_ I owe my Life!

After this mutual Demonstration of a perfect Reconcilement was over: See
here, my Lord, said _Frankville_, giving a Paper to the _Count_, the
occasion of my Rashness, and let my just concern for a Sisters Honour,
be at least some little Mittigation of my Temerity, in accosting your
Lordship in so rude a Manner. _D’elmont_ made no Answer, but looking
hastily over the Paper found it contain’d these Words.

    [Illustration]

    To Monsieur FRANKVILLE.

    _While your Sisters Dishonour was known but to few, and the
    injurious Destroyer of it, out of the reach of your Revenge;
    I thought it would ill become the Friendship I have always
    profess’d to your Family, to disquiet you with the Knowledge of
    a Misfortune, which it was no way in your Power to Redress._

    _But Count D’elmont, having by the Solicitation of his Friends,
    and the remembrance of some slight Services, obtain’d a Pardon
    from the KING, for the Murder of his Wife; has since taken but
    little care to conceal the Reasons which induc’d him to that
    barbarous Action; and all PARIS is now sensible that he made
    that unhappy Lady’s Life a Sacrifice to the more attractive
    Beauties of MELLIORA, in bloody Recompence for the Sacrifice
    she had before made him of her Virtue._

    _In short, the Noble Family of the Frankvilles is for ever
    dishonour’d by this Unfaithful GUARDIAN; and all who wish you
    well, rejoice to hear that his ill Genius has led him to a
    place which, if he knew you were at, certainly Prudence wou’d
    make him of all others most avoid; for none believes you will
    so far degenerate from the Spirit of your Ancestors, as to
    permit him to go unpunish’d._

    _In finding the COUNT, you may probably find your Sister too;
    for tho’, after the Death of ALOVISA, shame made her retire to
    a Monastry, she has since privately left it without acquainting
    the ABBESS, or any of the Sisterhood, with her Departure; nor
    is it known to any one, where, or for what Cause she absconds;
    but most People imagine, as indeed it is highly reasonable,
    that the Violence of her guilty Passion for D’ELMONT has
    engag’d her to follow him._

    _I am not unsensible how much I shock your Temper by this
    Relation, but have too much real concern for your Honour, to
    endure you shou’d, thro’ Ignorance of your Wrongs, remain
    Passive in such a Cause, and perhaps hug the Treacherous Friend
    in your most strict Embrace? Nor can I forbear, tho’ I love
    not Blood, urging you to take that just Revenge, which next to
    Heaven you have the greatest Claim to._

                    I am, Sir, with all due Respect,

                                               Yours, _Sanseverin_.

The _Count_ swell’d with Indignation at every Paragraph of this malicious
Letter; but when he came to that, which mention’d _Melliora_’s having
withdrawn her self from the Monastry, he seem’d to be wholly abandon’d
by his Reason; all Endeavours to represent his Agonies wou’d be vain,
and none but those who have felt the same, can have any Notion of what
he suffer’d. He read the fatal Scroll again and again, and every time
grew wilder than before; he stamp’d, bit his Lips, look’d furiously
about him, then, starting from the place where he had stood, measur’d
the Room in strange, disorder’d, and unequal Paces; all his Motions,
all his Looks, all his Air were nothing but Distraction: He spoke not
for some time, one Word, either prevented by the rising Passions in
his Soul, or because it was not in the Power of Language to express
the greatness of his Meaning; and when, at last, he open’d his Mouth,
it was but to utter half Sentences, and broken Complainings: Is it
possible, he cry’d,----gone,---left the Monastry unknown---and then
again----false----false Woman?----Wretched----wretched Man! There’s no
such Thing on Earth as Faith---is this the Effect of all her tender
Passion?--So soon forgot---what can be her Reason?---This Action suits
not with her Words, or Letters. In this manner he rav’d with a Thousand
such like Breathings of a tormented Spirit, toss’d and confounded between
various Sentiments.

Monsieur _Frankville_ stood for a good while silently observing him; and
if before, he were not perfectly assur’d of his Innocence, the Agonies he
now saw him in, which were too natural to be suspected for Counterfeit,
entirely convinc’d him he was so. When the first gust of Passion was
blown over, and he perceiv’d any likelyhood of being heard, he said a
Thousand tender and obliging Things to perswade him to Moderation, but
to very little Effect, till finding, that that which gave him the most
stinging Reflection was, the Belief that _Melliora_ had forsook the
Monastry, either because she thought of him no more, and was willing to
divert her enfranchis’d Inclination with the Gaieties of the Town, or
that some happier Man had supplanted him in her Esteem. Judge not, my
Lord, (said he) so rashly of my Sister’s Fidelity, nor know so little of
your own unmatch’d Perfections, as to suspect that she, who is Blest with
your Affection, can consider any other Object as worthy her Regard; For
my part, since your Lordship _knows_, and I firmly _believe_, that this
Letter contains a great many Untruths, I see no Reason why we should not
imagine it all of a piece: I declare I think it much more improbable that
she should leave the Monastry, unless sollicited thereto by you, than
that she had the Power to deny you any thing your Passion might request.
The _Count_’s Disorder visibly abated at this Remonstrance; and stepping
hastily to his Cabinet, he took out the last Letter he receiv’d from
_Melliora_, and found it was dated but two Days before that from Monsieur
_Sanseverin_; he knew she had not Art, nor was accustom’d to endeavour
to disguise her Sentiments; and she had written so many tender things in
that, as when he gave himself leave to consider, he could not, without
believing her to be either the most Dissembling, or most fickle of her
Sex, continue in the Opinion which had made him, a few Moments before,
so uneasy, that she was no longer, what she always subscrib’d her self,
_Entirely His_.

The Tempest of Rage and Grief being hush’d to a little more Tranquillity,
Count _D’elmont_, to remove all Scruples which might be _yet_ remaining
in the Breast of Monsieur _Frankville_, entertain’d him with the whole
History of his Adventures, from the Time of his Gallantry with _Amena_,
to the Misfortunes which had induc’d him to Travel, disguising nothing
of the Truth, but some part of the Discourses which had pass’d between
him and _Melliora_ that Night when he surpriz’d her in her Bed, and in
the Wilderness: For tho’ he freely confess’d the Violence of his own
unbounded Passion, had hurry’d him beyond all Considerations but those of
gratifying it; yet he was too tender of _Melliora_’s Honour, to relate
anything of her, which her Modesty might not acknowledge, without the
Expence of a Blush.

_Frankville_ list’ned with abundance of Attention to the Relation he made
him, and could find very little in his Conduct to accuse: He was himself
too much susceptible of the Power of Love, not to have Compassion for
those that suffer’d by it, and had too great a share of good Sense not to
know that, that Passion is not to be Circumscrib’d; and being not only,
not _Subservient_, but absolutely _Controller_ of the _Will_, it would be
meer Madness, as well as ill Nature, to say a Person was Blame-worthy for
what was unavoidable.

When Love once becomes in our Power, it ceases to be worthy of that
Name; no Man really possest with it, _can_ be Master of his Actions;
and whatever Effects it may Enforce, are no more to be Condemn’d, than
Poverty, Sickness, Deformity, or any other Misfortune incident to Humane
Nature. Methinks there is nothing more absur’d than the Notions of some
People, who in other Things are wise enough too; but wanting Elegance of
Thought, Delicacy, or Tenderness of Soul, to receive the Impression of
that harmonious Passion, look on those to be mad, who have any Sentiments
elevated above their own, and either Censure, or Laugh, at what they are
not refin’d enough to comprehend. These _Insipids_, who know nothing of
the Matter, tell us very gravely, that we _ought_ to Love with Moderation
and Discretion,---and take Care that it is for our Interest,--that we
should never place our Affections, but where Duty leads, or at least,
where neither Religion, Reputation, or Law, may be a Hindrance to our
Wishes.---Wretches! We know all this, as well as they; we know too,
that we both do, and leave undone many other Things, which we ought
not; but Perfection is not to be expected on this side the Grave: And
since ’tis impossible for Humanity to avoid Frailties of some kind or
other, those are certainly least blamable, which spring only from a too
great Affluence of the nobler Spirits. _Covetousness_, _Envy_, _Pride_,
_Revenge_, are the Effects of an Earthly, Base, and Sordid Nature,
_Ambition_, and _Love_, of an Exalted one; and if they are Failings, they
are such as plead their own Excuse, and can never want Forgiveness from
a generous Heart, provided no indirect Courses are taken to procure the
Ends of the _former_, nor Inconstancy, or Ingratitude, stain the Beauty
of the _latter_.

Notwithstanding all that Monsieur _Frankville_ could say, the _Count_,
tho’ not in the Rage of Temper he had been in, was yet very melancholly;
which the other perceiving, Alas, my Lord, said he Sighing, if you were
sensible of the Misfortunes of others, you would think your own more
easy to be born: You Love, and are Belov’d; no Obstacle remains between
you and your Desires; but the Formality of Custom, which a little time
will Remove, and at your return to _Paris_ you will doubtless be happy,
if ’tis in my Sister’s Power to make you so: You have a sure Prospect of
Felicity to _come_, but mine is _past_, never, I fear, to be retriev’d.
What mean you? Cry’d the _Count_ pretty much surpriz’d at his Words,
and the Change which he observ’d in his Countenance; I am in Love!
Reply’d He, Belov’d! Nay, have Enjoy’d----Ay, there’s the Source of my
Despair----I know the Heaven I have lost, and that’s my Hell.----The
Interest _D’elmont_ had in his Concerns, as being Son to the Man whom he
had loved with a kind of filial Affection, and Brother to the Woman whom
he ador’d above the World, made him extreamly desirous to know what the
Occasion of his Disquiet was, and having exprest himself to that purpose;
I shall make no Difficulty, reply’d _Frankville_, to reveal the Secret
of my Love, to him who is a Lover, and knows so well, how to pity, and
forgive, the Errors which that Passion will sometimes lead us into. The
_Count_ was too impatient to hear the Relation he was about to give him,
to make any other Answer to these Words than with a half Smile; which
the other perceiving, without any farther Prelude, began to satisfy his
Curiosity in this manner.


_The History of Monsieur_ FRANKVILLE.

You know, my Lord, said he, that I was bred at _Rheims_ with my Uncle,
the Bishop of that Place, and continu’d with him, till after, prompted
by Glory, and hope of that Renown you have since so gallantly acquir’d;
you left the Pleasures of the _Court_ for the Fatigues and Dangers of the
Field: When I came home, I never ceas’d solliciting my Father to permit
me to Travel, ’till weary’d with my continual Importunies, and perhaps,
not much displeas’d with my Thirst of Improvement, he at last gave
leave. I left _Paris_ a little before the Conclusion of the Peace, and
by that means remain’d wholly a Stranger to your Lordship’s Person, tho’
perfectly acquainted with those admirable Accomplishments which Fame is
every where so full of.

I have been in the Courts of _England_, _Spain_, and _Portugal_, but
nothing very material hapning to me in any of those Places, it would
be rather Impertinent, than Diverting, to defer, for Trifles, the main
Business of my Life, that of my Love, which had not a Being ’till I came
into this City.

I had been here but a little Time before I had a great many Acquaintance,
among the Number of them, was Seignior _Jaques Honorius Cittolini_: He,
of all the rest, I was most intimate with; and tho’ to the Generality
of People he behav’d himself with an Air of Imperiousness, he was to
me, all free, and easy; he seem’d as if he took a Pleasure in Obliging
me; carry’d me every where with him; introduc’d me to the best Company:
When I was absent he spoke of me, as of a Person who he had the highest
Esteem for; and when I was present, if there were any in Company whose
rank oblig’d him to place them above me in the _Room_; he took care to
testify that I was not below them in his _Respect_; in fine, he was never
more happy than when he was giving me some Proof how much he was my
Friend; and I was not a little satisfy’d that a Man of almost twice my
Years should believe me qualify’d for his Companion in such a manner as
he made me.

When the melancholly Account of my Fathers Death came to my Ears, he
omitted nothing to persuade me to sell my Estate in _France_, and settle
in _Rome_; he told me he had a Daughter, whose Heart had been the aim of
the chiefest Nobility; but that he wou’d buy my Company at that Price and
to keep me here, wou’d give me her. This Proposition was not altogether
so pleasing to me, as perhaps, he imagin’d it wou’d be: I had heard much
Talk or this Lady’s Beauty, but I had never seen her; and at that Time,
Love was little in my Thoughts, especially that sort which was to end in
Marriage. However, I wou’d not absolutely refuse his Offer, but evaded
it, which I had the better pretence for, because _Violetta_, (so was
his Daughter call’d) was gone to _Vitterbo_ to Visit a sick Relation,
and I cou’d not have the opportunity of seeing her. In the mean time,
he made me acquainted with his deepest Secrets; among many other Things
he told me, that tho’ their Family was one of the greatest in _Rome_,
yet by the too great Liberality of his Father, himself and one Sister
was left with very little to Support the Grandeur of their Birth; but
that his Sister who was acknowledg’d a Woman of an uncommon Beauty, had
the good Fortune to appear so, to Seignior _Marcarius Fialasco_: he
was the possessor of immense Riches, but very Old; but the young Lady
found Charms enough in his Wealth to ballance all other Deficiencies;
She Married, and Buried him in a Month’s Time, and he dy’d so full of
fondness to his lovely Bride; that he left her Mistress of all he had
in the World; giving only to a Daughter he had by a former Wife, the
Fortune which her Mother had brought him, and that too, and herself to be
dispos’d of, in Marriage, as this Triumphant Widow should think fit; and
she, like a kind Sister, thought none worthy of that Alliance, but her
Brother; and in a few Days he said, he did not doubt but that I shou’d
see him a Bridegroom. I ask’d him if he was happy enough to have made
an Interest in the young Lady’s Heart; and he very frankly answer’d,
That he was not of a Humour to give himself much uneasiness about it,
since it was wholly in his Sister’s Power to make him Master of her
Person, and she resolv’d to do that, or Confine her in a Monastry for
ever. I cou’d not help feeling a Compassionate concern for this Lady,
tho’ she was a Stranger to me, for I cou’d not believe, so Beautiful
and accomplish’d a Woman, as he had often describ’d her to be, cou’d
find any thing in her design’d Husband which cou’d make this Match
agreeable. Nothing can be more different from Graceful, than the Person
of _Cittolini_; he is of a black swarthy Complexion, hook’d-Nos’d, wall
Ey’d, short of Stature; and tho’ he is very Lean, the worst shap’d Man
I ever saw; then for his Temper, as friendly as he behav’d to me, I
discern’d a great deal of Treachery, and Baseness in it to others; a
perpetual peevishness and Pride appear’d in his Deportment to all those
who had any dependance on him: And I had been told by some who knew him
perfectly well, that his cruel Usage of his first Lady had been the means
of her Death; but this was none of my Business, and tho’ I pity’d the
Lady, yet my gratitude to him engag’d me to wish him Success in all his
Undertakings. ’Till one Day, unluckily both for him and me, as it has
since prov’d; he desir’d me to Accompany him to the House of _Ciamara_,
for so is his Sister call’d, being, willing I suppose, that I shou’d
be a Witness of the extraordinary State she liv’d in; and indeed, in
all the Courts I had been at, I never saw any thing more Magnificent
than her Apartments; the vast quantity of Plate; the Richness of the
Furniture; and the number of Servants attending on Her, might have
made her be taken rather for a Princess, than a private Woman. There
was a very noble Collation, and she sat at Table with us her self, a
particular Favour from an _Italian_ Lady: She is by many Years younger
than her Brother, and extreamly Handsome; but has, I know not what, of
fierceness in her Eyes, which renders her, at least to me, a Beauty,
without a Charm. After the Entertainment, _Cittolini_ took me into
the Gardens, which were answerable to what I had seen within, full of
Curiosities; at one end there was a little Building of Marble, to which
he led me, and entering into it, see here, _Monsieur_, said he, the Place
where my Sister spends the greatest part of her Hours, and tell me if
’tis in this kind of Diversion that the _French_ Ladies take Delight.
I presently saw it was full of Books, and guess’d those Words were
design’d as a Satyr on our Ladies, whose disposition to Gallantry seldom
affords much time for Reading; but to make as good a Defence for their
Honour as I was able. _Seignior_, reply’d I, it must be confest, that
there are very few Ladies of any Nation, who think the _Acquisition_ of
Knowledge, worth the Pains it must cost them in the _Search_, but that
ours is not without some Examples, that all are not of that Mind; our
famous _D’anois_, and _D’acier_ may evince. Well, Well, interrupted he
laughing; the propensity which that Sex bears to Learning is so trifling,
that I shall not pretend to hold any Argument on its Praise; nor did
I bring you here so much to engage you to Admire my Sisters manner of
Amusement, as to give you an Opportunity of diverting your self, while
I go to pay a Compliment to my Mistress; who, tho’ I have a very great
Confidence in you, I dare not trust with the sight of so accomplish’d a
_Chevalier_. With these Words he left me, and I, designing to do as he
had desir’d; turn’d to the Shelves to take down what Book I cou’d find
most suitable to my Humour; but good God! As I was tumbling them over,
I saw thro’ a Window which look’d into a Garden behind the Study; tho’
both belonging to one Person: A Woman, or rather Angel, coming down a
Walk directly opposite to where I was, never did I see in one Person
such various Perfections blended, never did any Woman wear so much of
her Soul in her Eyes, as did this Charmer: I saw that moment in her
Looks, all I have since experienc’d of her Genius, and her Humour; Wit,
Judgment, good Nature and Generosity are in her Countenance, conspicuous
as in her Actions; but to go about to make a Description, were to wrong
her; She has Graces so peculiar, that none without knowing her, can be
able to conceive; and tho’ nothing can be finer than her Shape, or more
regular than her Features; yet those, our Fancy or a _Painters_ Art may
Copy: There is something so inexpressibly striking in her Air; such a
delightful Mixture of awful and attractive in every little Motion, that
no Imagination can come up to. But if Language is too poor to paint her
Charms, how shall I make you sensible of the Effects of them on me! The
Surprize---the Love---the Adoration which this fatal View involv’d me
in, but by that which, you say, your self felt at the first Sight of
_Melliora_. I was, methought all Spirit,---I beheld her with Raptures,
such as we imagine Souls enjoy when freed from Earth, they meet each
other in the Realms of Glory; ’twas Heaven to gaze upon her: But Oh! The
Bliss was short, the Envious Trees obscur’d her Lustre from me.---The
Moment I lost Sight of her, I found my _Passion_ by my _Pain_, the _Joy_
was vanish’d, but the _Sting_ remain’d---I was so bury’d in Thought, that
I never so much as stirr’d a Step to endeavour to discover which way she
went; tho’ if I had consider’d the Situation of the Place, it would have
been easy for me to have known, there was a Communication between the two
Gardens, and if I had gone but a few Paces out of the Study, must have
met her; but Love had for the present depriv’d me of my Sences; and it
but just enter’d into my Head that there was a Possibility of renewing
my Happiness, when I perceiv’d _Cittolini_ returning. When he came
pretty near; Dear _Frankville_, said he, pardon my Neglect of you; but
I have been at _Camilla_’s Apartment, and am told she is in the lower
Garden; I will but speak to her, snatch a Kiss and be with you again: He
went hastily by me without staying for any Answer, and it was well he
did so, for the Confusion I was in, had made me little able to reply.
His Words left me no room to hope it was any other than _Camilla_ I had
seen, and the Treachery I was guilty of to my Friend, in but wishing to
invade his Right, gave me a Remorse which I had never known before: But
these Reflections lasted not long; Love generally exerts himself on these
Occasions, and is never at a loss for means to remove all the Scruples
that may be rais’d to oppose him. Why, said I to my self, should I be
thus Tormented? She is not yet married, and ’tis almost impossible she
can with Satisfaction, ever yield to be so, to him. Could I but have
opportunity to Talk to her, to let her know my Passion,---to endeavour
to deliver her from the Captivity she is in, perhaps she would not
condemn my Temerity: I found a great deal of Pleasure in this Thought,
but I was not suffer’d to enjoy it long; _Honour_ suggested to me, that
_Cittolini_ lov’d me, had Oblig’d me, and that to supplant him would be
Base and Treacherous: But would it not be more so, cry’d the Dictates
of my _Love_, to permit the Divine _Camilla_ to fall a Sacrifice to one
so every way undeserving of her; one who ’tis likely she abhors; one
who despises her Heart, so he may but possess her Fortune to support
his Pride, and her Person to gratify a Passion far unworthy of the Name
of _Love_; One! who ’tis probable, when Master of the one, and satiated
with the other, may treat her with the utmost Inhumanity. Thus, for a
time, were my Thoughts at Strife; but Love at length got the Victory,
and I had so well compos’d my self before _Cittolini_’s Return that he
saw nothing of the Disorder I had been in; but it was not so with him,
his Countenance, at the best displeasing enough, was now the perfect
Representative of Ill Nature, Malice, and Discontent. _Camilla_ had
assur’d him, that nothing could be more her Aversion, and that she was
resolv’d, tho’ a Monastick Life was what she had no Inclination to, yet
she would fly to that Shelter, to avoid his Bed. You may imagine, my
Lord, I was Transported with an Excess of Joy, when he told me this; but
Love taught me to dissemble it, ’till I had taken leave of him, which I
made an Excuse to do, as soon as possible.

Now all that troubled me was to find an Opportunity to declare my
Passion; and, I confess, I was so dull in Contrivance, that tho’ it took
up all my Thoughts, none of them were to any purpose: Three or four
Days I spent in fruitless Projections, the last of which I met with a
new Embarrassment; _Cittolini_’s Daughter was return’d, he renew’d his
Desires of making me his Son, and invited me the next Evening to his
House, where I was to be entertain’d with the sight of her; I could not
well avoid giving him my Promise to be there, but resolv’d in my Mind
to behave my self in such a manner as should make her disapprove of me.
While I was thus busied in Contriving how to avoid _Violetta_, and engage
_Camilla_, a Woman wrapt up very closely in her Vail came to my Lodgings,
and brought me a Note, in which I found these Words.

    [Illustration]

    _To Monsieur_ FRANKVILLE.

    _My Father is resolv’d to make me Yours; and if he has your
    Consent, mine will not be demanded; he has Commanded me to
    receive you to morrow, but I have a particular Reason to desire
    to see you sooner; I am to pass this Night with CAMILLA at my
    Aunt CIAMARA’s; there is a little Wicket that opens from the
    Garden, directly opposite to the Convent of St. FRANCIS, if you
    will favour me so far as to come there at Ten a Clock to Night,
    and give Seven gentle Knocks at the Gate: You shall know the
    Cause of my Entreating this private Interview, which is of more
    Moment than the Life of_

                                                          Violetta.

Never had I been more pleasingly surpriz’d, than at the Reading these
Lines; I could not imagine the Lady could have any other Reason for
seeing me in private, than to confess that her Heart was pre-engag’d, and
disswade me from taking the Advantage of her Father’s Authority, a secret
Hope too, sprung within my Soul, that my Adorable _Camilla_ might be with
her; and after I had dismiss’d the Woman, with an Assurance that I would
attend her Lady, I spent my Time in vast Idea’s of approaching Happiness
’till the appointed Hour arriv’d.

But how great was my Disappointment, when being admitted, I cou’d
distinguish, tho’ the Place was very dark, that I was receiv’d but
by one, and accosted by her, in a manner very different from what
I expected: I know not, _Monsieur_, said she, how you interpret
this Freedom I have taken; but whatever we pretend, our Sex, of all
Indignities, can the least support those done to our Beauty; I am not
vain enough of mine to assure my self of making a Conquest of your
Heart; and if the World should know you have _seen_, and _refus’d_ me,
my slighted Charms would be the Theme of _Mirth_ to those whose _Envy_
now they are: I therefore beg, that if I am dislik’d, none but my self
may know it; when you have seen my Face, which you shall do immediately,
give me your Opinion freely; and if it is not to my Advantage, make some
pretence to my Father to avoid coming to our House. I protest to you, my
Lord that I was so much surpriz’d at this odd kind of proceeding, that
I knew not presently how to Reply, which she imagining by my Silence:
Come, come, _Monsieur_, said she, I am not yet on even Terms with you,
having often seen _your_ Face, and you wholly a Stranger to _mine_: But
when our Knowledge of each other is Mutual, I hope you will be as free in
your Declaration as I have been in my Request. These Words I thought were
as proper for my purpose as I cou’d wish, and drawing back a little, as
she was about to lead me: Madam, said I, since you have that Advantage,
methinks it were but just, you shou’d reveal what sort of Sentiments the
sight of me has inspir’d, for I have too much Reason from the Knowledge
of my Demerit, to fear, you have no other design in exposing your Charms,
than to Triumph in the Captivating a Heart you have already doom’d to
Misery; I will tell you nothing, answer’d she, of _my_ Sentiments ’till
I have a perfect knowledge of _yours_. As she spoke this, she gave me
her Hand to conduct me out of that Place of Darkness; as we went, I
had all the Concern at the apprehension of being too much approv’d of
by this young Lady, as I shou’d have had for the contrary, if I had
imagin’d who it was I had been talking with, for as soon as we came out
of the Grotto, I saw by the light of the Moon, which shone that Night,
with an uncommon Lustre, the Face which in those Gardens had before so
Charm’d me, and which had never since been absent from my Thoughts. What
Joy, what a mixture of Extacy and Wonder, then fill’d my raptur’d Soul
at this second view, I cou’d not presently trust my Eyes, or think my
Happiness was real: I gaz’d, and gaz’d again, in silent Transport, for
the big Bliss, surpass’d the reach of Words. What _Monsieur_, said she,
observing my Confusion, are you yet Dumb, is there any thing so dreadful
in the form of _Violetta_, to deprive you of your Speech? No Madam,
reply’d I, ’tis not _Violetta_ has that Power, but she, who unknowing
that she did so, caught at first sight the Victory o’re my Soul; she!
for whom I have vented so Sighs! she for whom I languish’d and almost
dy’d for; while _Violetta_ was at _Vitterbo_: She! The Divine _Camilla_
only cou’d inspire a Passion such as mine!--Oh Heavens! cry’d she, and
that instant I perceiv’d her lovely Face all crimson’d o’re with Blushes;
is it then possible that you know me, have seen me before, and that I
have been able to make any Impression on you? I then told her of the
Visit I had made to _Ciamara_ with _Cittolini_, and how by his leaving
me in the Marble-Study, I had been blest with the sight of her; and from
his Friend became his Rival: I let her know the Conflicts my Honour and
my Obligations to _Cittolini_ had engag’d me in; the thousand various
Inventions Love had suggested to me, to obtain that Happiness I now
enjoy’d, the opportunity of declaring my self her Slave; and in short,
conceal’d not the least Thought, tending to my Passion, from Her. She,
in requital, acquainted me, that she had often seen me from her Window,
go into the Convent of St. _Francis_, walking in the _Collonade_ at St.
_Peter_’s, and in several other Places, and, prompted by an extravagance
of good Nature, and Generosity, confess’d, that her Heart felt something
at those Views, very prejudicial to her Repose: That _Cittolini_,
always disagreeable, was now grown Odious; that the Discourse she had
heard of my intended Marriage with his Daughter, had given her an alarm
impossible to be express’d, and that, unable longer to support the Pangs
of undiscover’d Passion, she had writ to me in that Ladies Name, who she
knew I had never seen, resolving, if I lik’d her as _Violetta_, to own
her self _Camilla_, if not, to go the next Day to a Monastry, and devote
to Heaven those Charms which wanted force to make a Conquest where alone
she wish’d they shou’d.

I must leave it to your Lordship’s imagination to conceive the wild
tumultuous hurry of disorder’d Joy which fill’d my ravish’d Soul at this
Condescention; for I am now as unable to describe it, as I was then to
thank the Dear, the tender Author of it; but what _Words_ had not Power
to do, _Looks_ and _Actions_ testified: I threw myself at her Feet,
Embrac’d her Knees, and kiss’d the Hand she rais’d me with, with such
a Fervor, as no false Love cou’d feign; while she, all softness, all
divinely Kind, yielded to the pressure of my glowing Lips, and suffer’d
me to take all the freedom which Honour and Modesty wou’d permit. This
interview was too felicitous to be easily broken off, it was almost
broad Day when we parted, and nothing but her Promise, that I shou’d be
admitted the next Night, cou’d have enabled me to take leave of her.

I went away highly satisfy’d, as I had good Reason, with my Condition,
and after recollecting all the tender Passages of our Conversation; I
began to consider after what manner I shou’d proceed with _Cittolini_:
To Visit and Address his Daughter, I thought, wou’d be Treacherous and
Deceitful to the last degree; and how to come off, after the Promise
I made of seeing her that Evening. I cou’d not tell; at last, since
Necessity oblig’d me to one I resolv’d of, the two Evils to chuse
the least, and rather to seem _Rude_, then _Base_, which I must have
been, had I by counterfeiting a Desire to engage _Violetta_, left
room for a possibility of creating one in her. I therefore, writ, to
_Cittolini_ an Excuse for not waiting on Him and his Daughter, as I
had promis’d, telling him that I, on more serious Reflection found it
wholly inconsistent, either with my Circumstances, or Inclinations,
to think of passing all my Life in _Rome_; that I thank’d him for
the Honour he intended me, but that it was my Misfortune, not to be
capable of accepting it. Thus, with all the Artifice I was Master of,
I endeavour’d to sweeten the bitter Pill of Refusal, but in vain; for
he was so much Disgusted at it, that he visited me no more: I cannot
say, I had Gratitude enough to be much concern’d at being compell’d to
use him in this Fashion; for, since I had beheld, and Ador’d _Camilla_,
I cou’d consider him no longer as a Friend, but as the most dangerous
Enemy to my Hopes and me. All this time I spent the best part of the
Nights with _Camilla_; and in one of them, after giving, and receiving
a thousand Vows of everlasting Faith, I snatch’d a lucking Moment, and
obtain’d from the Dear, melting Charmer, all that my Fondest, and most
eager Wishes cou’d aspire to. Yes, my Lord, the soft, the trembling Fair,
dissolv’d in Love; yielded without Reserve, and met my Transports with an
equal Ardor; and I truly protest to your Lordship, that what in others,
_palls_ Desire, added fresh _Force_ to mine; the more I knew, the more
I was Inflam’d, and in the highest Raptures of Enjoyment, the Bliss was
dash’d with Fears, which prov’d alas, but too Prophetick, that some curst
Chance might drive me from my Heaven: Therefore, to secure it mine for
ever, I press’d the lovely Partner of my Joys, to give me leave to bring
a Priest with me the next Night; who by giving a Sanction to our Love,
might put it past the Power of Malice to Disunite us: Here, I experienc’d
the greatness of her Soul, and her almost unexampled Generosity; for in
spite of all her Love, her Tenderness, and the unbounded Condescentions
she had made me, it was with all the difficulty in the World, that I
persuaded her to think of Marrying me without a Fortune; which by her
Father’s _Will_, was wholly in the Disposal of _Ciamara_, who it wou’d
have been Madness to Hope, wou’d ever bestow it upon me. However, my
Arguments at last prevail’d; I was to bring a Fryar of the Order of St.
_Francis_, who was my intimate Friend, the next Night to join our Hands;
which done, she told me, she wou’d advise to leave _Rome_ with what speed
we cou’d, for she doubted not but _Cittolini_ wou’d make use of any
means, tho’ never so base or Bloody, to Revenge his Disappointment. This
Proposal infinitely pleas’d me, and after I had taken leave of her, I
spent the remainder of the Night, in contriving the means of our Escape:
Early in the Morning I secur’d Post-Horses, and then went to the Convent
of St. _Francis_; a Purse of _Lewis D’ors_ soon engag’d the Fryar to my
Interest, and I had every thing ready in wonderful Order, considering
the shortness of the Time, for our Design: When returning Home towards
Evening, as well to take a little rest after the Fatigue I had had, as
to give some other necessary Directions, concerning the Affair to my
Servants, when one of them gave me a Letter, which had been just left for
me.

_Monsieur Frankville_ cou’d not come to this Part of his Story, without
some Sighs, but suppressing them as well as he was able, he took some
Papers out of his Pocket, and singling out one, read to the _Count_ as
follows.

    [Illustration]

    To Monsieur FRANKVILLE.

    _With what Words can I represent the greatness of my
    Misfortune, or Exclaim against the Perfidy of my Woman?
    I was oblig’d to make her the Confidant of my Passion,
    because without her Assistance, I cou’d not have enjoy’d the
    Happiness of your Conversation, and ’tis by her that I am now
    Betray’d----undone,---lost to all hopes of ever seeing you
    more---What have I not endur’d this Day, from the upbraidings
    of CIAMARA and CITTOLINI, but that I shou’d despise, nay,
    my own Ruin too, if you were safe----But Oh! their Malice
    aims to wound me most, through you----Bravo’s are hir’d, the
    Price of your Blood is paid, and they have sworn to take your
    Life---Guard it I conjure you, if you wou’d preserve that of
    CAMILLA’s. Attempt not to come near this House, nor walk alone,
    when Night may be an Umbrage to their Designs.---I hear my
    cruel Enemies returning to renew their Persecutions, and I have
    Time to inform you no more, than that ’tis to the Generous
    VIOLETTA you are indebted for this Caution: She, in pity of my
    Agonies, and to prevent her Father from executing the Crime he
    intends; conveys this to you, slight it not, if you wou’d have
    me believe you Love,_

                                                           Camilla.

What a turn was here (continu’d he, sadly) in my Fortune? How on a sudden
was my Scene of Happiness chang’d to the blackest Despair?---But not
to tire your Lordship, and spin out my Narration, which is already too
long with unavailing Complainings. I every Day expected a Challenge from
_Cittolini_, believing he wou’d, at least, take that Method at first,
but it seems he was for chusing the _surest_, not the _fairest_ way: And
I have since prov’d, that my Dear _Camilla_ had too much Reason for the
Caution she gave me. Ten Days I lingred out without being able to invent
any means, either to see her, or write to Her; at the end of which,
I receiv’d another Letter from Her, which, if I were to tell you the
Substance of, wou’d be to wrong her; since no Words but her own are fit
to Express her Meaning, and ’tis for that Reason only, I shall Read it.

    [Illustration]

    _To Monsieur_ FRANKVILLE.

    _Of all the Woes which wait on humane Life, sure there is none
    Equal to that a Lover feels in Absence; ’tis a kind of Hell,
    an earnest of those Pains, we are told, shall be the Portion
    of the Damn’d----Ten whole Nights, and Days, according to the
    vulgar Reckoning, but in mine, as many Ages, have roll’d their
    tedious Hours away since last I saw you, in all which time, my
    Eyes have never known one Moments cessation from my Tears, nor
    my sad Heart from Anguish; restless I wander thro’ this hated
    House---Kiss the clos’d Wicket---stop, and look at every Place
    which I remember your dear steps have blest, then, with wild
    Ravings, think of past Joys, and curse my present Woes---yet
    you perhaps are Calm, no sympathizing Pang invades your Soul,
    and tells you what mine suffers, else, you wou’d, you must have
    found some Means to ease your self and me--’tis true, I bid you
    not attempt it--but Oh! If you had lov’d like me, you cou’d not
    have obey’d----Desire has no regard to Prudence, it despises
    Danger, and over-looks even Impossibilities---but whither am I
    going?---I say, I know not what---Oh, mark not what Distraction
    utters! Shun these detested Walls!---’tis Reason now commands!
    fly from this House, where injur’d Love’s enslav’d, and Death
    and Treachery reign---I charge thee come not near, nor prove
    thy Faith so hazardous a way---forgive the little Fears, which
    ever dwell with Love---I know thou art all sincerity!---all
    God-like Truth, and can’st not change---yet, if thou
    shouldst,---tormenting Thought!----Why then, there’s not a
    Heaven-abandon’d Wretch, so lost---so Curst as I---What shall
    I do to shake off Apprehension? in spite of all thy Vows---thy
    ardent Vows, when I but think of any Maid, by Love, and fond
    Belief undone, a deadly cold runs thro’ my Veins, congeals
    my Blood, and chills my very Soul!---Gazing on the Moon last
    Night, her Lustre brought fresh to my Memory those transporting
    Moments, when by that Light I saw you first a Lover, and, I
    think Inspired me, who am not usually fond of Versifying, to
    make her this Complaint._

    [Illustration]

    [Illustration]

    The Unfortunate CAMILLA’s Complaint to the _Moon_, for the
    Absence of her Dear HENRICUS FRANKVILLE.

        _Mild Queen of Shades! Thou sweetly shining Light!_
        _Once, more than Phœbus, welcome to my Sight:_
        _’Twas by thy Beams I first HENRICUS saw_
        _Adorn’d with softness, and disarm’d of awe!_
        _Never did’st thou appear more fair! more bright!_
        _Than on that Dear, that Cause-remembred Night!_
        _When the dull Tyes of Friendship he disclaim’d,_
        _And to Inspire a tend’rer Passion aim’d:_
        _Alas! he cou’d not long, in vain, implore_
        _For that, which tho’ unknown, was his before;_
        _Nor had I Art the Secret to Disguise,_
        _My Soul spoke all her Meaning thro’ my Eyes,_
        _And every Glance bright’ned with glad Surprize!_
        _Lost to all Thought, but His Transporting Charms,_
        _I sunk, unguarded! Melting in his Arms!_
        _Blest at that lavish rate, my State, that Hour_
        _I’d not have Chang’d for all in fortune’s Pow’r,_
        _Nay, had descending Angel’s from on High_
        _Spread their bright Wings to waft me to the Sky,_
        _Thus clasp’d! Cœlestial Charms had fail’d to move_
        _And Heav’n been slighted, for HENRICUS Love._
        _How did I then thy happy Influence Bless?_
        _How watch each joyful Night, thy Lights encrease?_
        _But Oh! How alter’d since---Despairing now,_
        _I View thy Lustre with contracted Brow:_
        _Pensive, and sullen from the Rays wou’d hide,_
        _And scarce the glimmering Star’s my Griefs abide,_
        _In Death-like darkness wou’d my Fate deplore,_
        _And wish Thee to go down, to Rise no more!_

    _Pity the Extravagance of a Passion which only Charms
    like thine cou’d Create, nor too severely chide this soft
    Impertinence, which I cou’d not refrain sending you, when I
    can neither see you, nor hear from you: to write, gives some
    little respite to my Pains, because I am sure of being in your
    Thoughts, while you are Reading my Letters. The Tender Hearted
    VIOLETTA, preferring the Tyes of Friendship to those of Duty,
    gives me this happy opportunity, but my Ill-fortune deprives me
    too of her, she goes to Morrow to her Fathers VILLA, and Heaven
    knows when I shall find means to send to you again._

    _Farewel, Thou Loveliest, Dearest, and Divine Charmer---Think
    of me with a Concern full of Tenderness, but that is not
    enough; and you must pardon me, when I confess, that I cannot
    forbear wishing you might feel some of those Pains, impatient
    longing brings.---All others be far away, as far, as Joy is,
    when you are Absent from_

                            Your Unfortunate

                                                         Camilla.

    P.S. _Since I writ this, a Fancy came into my Head, that if
    you cou’d find a Friend Trusty enough to confide in, and one
    unknown to our Family, he might gain admittance to me in
    CITTOLINI’s Name, as sent by him, while he is at the VILLA. I
    flatter my self you will take as much pleasure in endeavouring
    to let me hear from you, as I do in the hope of it. Once more
    ADIEU._

Your Lordship may judge, by what I have told you of the Sincerity of my
Passion, how glad I should have been to have comply’d with her Request,
but it was utterly impossible to find any body fit for such a Business: I
pass’d three or four Days more, in Disquietudes too great to be exprest;
I saunter’d up and down the Street where she liv’d, in hopes to see her
at some of the Windows, but Fortune never was so favourable to me, thus I
spent my Days, and left the sight of those dear Walls at Nights, but in
obedience to the Charge she had given me of preserving my Life.

Thus, my Lord, has the business of my Love engrossed my Hours, ever
since your Lordships arrival, and tho’ I heard that you were here, and
extreamly wish’d to kiss your Hands, yet I cou’d never get one Moment
compos’d enough to wait on you in, ’till what my Desires cou’d not do,
the rashness of my Indignation effected: Last Night, being at my Bankers
where all my Bills and Letters are directed, I found this, from Monsieur
_Sanseverin_, the Rage which the Contents of it put me in, kept me from
remembring that Circumspection, which _Camilla_ had enjoyn’d, and I
thought of nothing but revenging the injury I imagin’d you had done me:
As I was coming Home, I was attack’d as you saw, when you so generously
preserv’d me, the just Indignation I conceiv’d at this base procedure of
_Cittolini_’s transported me so far, as to make me forget what I owed
to my Deliverer, to run in pursuit of those who assaulted me, but soon
lost sight of them, and returning, as Gratitude and Honour call’d me,
to seek, and thank you for your timely Assistance, I found a Throng of
People about the Body of the Villain I had killed, some of them were
for Examining me, but finding no Wounds about me, nor any marks of the
Engagement I had been in, I was left at my Liberty.

Thus, my Lord, have I given you, in as brief a manner as the Changes
of my Fortune wou’d permit, the Account of my present melancholly
Circumstances, in which, if you find many things blameable, you must
acknowledge there are more which require Compassion.

I see no Reason, answer’d the Count, either for the one or the other,
you have done nothing but what any Man who is a Lover, wou’d gladly have
it in his Power to do, and as for your Condition, it certainly is more
to be envy’d than pity’d: The Lady loves, is Constant, and doubtless
will some way or other, find means for her Escape,----Impossible! Cry’d
_Frankville_, interrupting him, she is too strictly watch’d to suffer
such a Hope. If you will prepare a Letter, resum’d _D’elmont_, my self
will undertake to be the Bearer of it; I am entirely a Stranger to the
People you have been speaking of, or if I should chance to be known
to them, cannot be suspected to come from you, since our Intimacy, so
lately born, cannot yet be talk’d of, to the prejudice of our Design; and
how do you know, continu’d he smiling, but, if I have the good Fortune
to be introduc’d to this Lady, that I shall not be able to assist her
Invention to form some Scheme, for both your future Happiness. This offer
was too agreeable to be refus’d, _Frankville_ accepted it with all the
Demonstrations of Gratitude and Joy imaginable, and setting himself down
to the _Count_’s Scrutore, was not long Writing the following _Billet_
which he gave him to read before he seal’d it.

    To the most Lovely and Adorable CAMILLA.

    “If to consume with inward Burnings, to have no Breath but
    Sighs, to wish for Death, or Madness to relieve me from the
    racks of Thought, be Misery consummate, such is mine! And yet
    my too unjust CAMILLA thinks I feel no Pain, and chides my cold
    Tranquility; cou’d I be so, I were indeed a Wretch deserving
    of my nate, but far unworthy of your Pity or Regard. No, no,
    thou Loveliest, Softest, most angelic Creature, that Heaven, in
    lavish Bounty, ever sent to charm the adoring World; he that
    cou’d know one Moments stupid Calm in such an _Absence_, ought
    never to be blest with those unbounded Joys thy _Presence_
    brings: What wou’d I not give, what wou’d I not hazard but
    once more to behold thee, to gaze upon thy Eyes, those Suns
    of kindling Transports! to touch thy enlivening Hand! to feed
    upon the ravishing sweetness of thy Lips! Oh the Imagination’s
    Extacy! Life were too poor to set on such a Cast, and you
    shou’d long e’re this, have prov’d the little Value I have
    for it, in competition with my Love if your Commands had not
    restrain’d me. _Cittolini_’s Malice, however, had last Night
    been gratify’d, if the Noble Count _D’elmont_ had not been
    inspir’d for my Preservation, it is to him I am indebted, not
    only for my Life, but a much greater Favour, that of conveying
    to you the Assurance, how much my Life, my Soul, and all the
    Faculties of it are eternally Yours. Thank him, my _Camilla_,
    for your _Frankville_, for Words like thine are only fit to
    Praise, as it deserves, such an exalted Generosity; ’tis with
    an infinite deal of Satisfaction I reflect how much thy Charms
    will justify my Conduct when he sees thee, all that excess of
    Passion, which my fond Soul’s too full of to conceal, that
    height of Adoration, which offer’d to any other Woman wou’d be
    Sacriledge, the wonders of thy Beauty and thy Wit, claim as
    their due, and prove _Camilla_, like _Heaven_, can never be too
    much Reverenc’d! Be too much Lov’d!----But, Oh! How poor is
    Language to express what ’tis I think, thus Raptur’d with thy
    Idea, thou best, thou Brightest----thou most Perfect----thou
    something more than Excellence it self--thou far surpassing all
    that Words can speak, or Heart, unknowing thee, conceive: yet
    I cou’d dwell for ever on the Theme, and swell whole Volumes
    with enervate, tho’ well-meaning Praises, if my Impatience, to
    have what I have already writ, be with you, did not prevent my
    saying any more than, that but in you I live, nor cou’d support
    this Death-like absence, but for some little intervals of Hope,
    which sometimes flatter me, that Fortune will grow weary of
    persecuting me, and one Day re-unite my Body to my Soul and
    make both inseparably Yours,

                                                     _Frankville_.”

These new made Friends having a fellow-feeling of each others Sufferings,
as proceeding from one Source, pass’d the time in little else but amorous
Discourses, till it was a proper Hour for the Count to perform his
Promise, and taking a full Direction from _Frankville_ how to find the
House, he left him at his Lodgings to wait his return from _Ciamara_’s,
forming, all the way he went, a thousand Projects to communicate to
_Camilla_ for her Escape, he was still extreamly uneasy in his Mind
concerning _Melliora_, and long’d to be in _Paris_ to know the Truth of
that Affair, but thought he cou’d not in Honour leave her Brother in
this Embarrassment, and resolv’d to make use of all his Wit and Address
to perswade _Camilla_ to hazard every thing for Love, and was not a
little pleas’d with the Imagination, that he should lay so considerable
an obligation on _Melliora_, as this Service to her Brother wou’d be.
Full of these Reflections he found himself in the _Portico_ of that
magnificent House he was to enter, and seeing a Crowd of Servants about
the Door, desir’d to be brought to the presence of _Donna Camilla
Fialaso_, one of them, immediately conducted him into a stately Room, and
leaving him there, told him, the Lady shou’d be made acquainted with his
Request; presently after came in a Woman, who, tho’ very Young, seem’d to
be in the nature of a _Duenna_, the _Count_ stood with his Back toward
her as she enter’d, but hearing somebody behind him, and turning hastily
about, he observ’d she startled at sight of him, and appear’d so confus’d
that he knew not what to make of her Behaviour, and when he ask’d if he
might speak with _Camilla_, and said he had a Message to deliver from
_Cittolini_, she made no other Answer than several times, with an amaz’d
Accent, Ecchoing the names of _Camilla_ and _Cittolini_, as if not able
to comprehend his Meaning; he was oblig’d to repeat his Words over and
over before she cou’d recollect herself enough to tell him, that she
wou’d let him know her Lady’s pleasure instantly. She left him in a good
deal of Consternation, at the Surprize he perceiv’d the Sight of him had
put her into, he form’d a thousand uncertain Guesses what the occasion
shou’d be, but the Mistery was too deep for all his Penetration to
fathom, and he waited with abundance of Impatience for her return, or the
appearance of her Lady, either, of which, he hop’d, might give a Solution
to this seeming Riddle.

He attended a considerable time, and was beginning to grow excessive
uneasy, at this Delay, when a magnificent _Anti-porta_ being drawn up,
he saw thro’ a Glass Door, which open’d into a Gallery, the _Duenna_
approaching: She had now entirely compos’d her Countenance, and with an
obliging Smile told him, she wou’d conduct him to her Lady. She led him
thro’ several Rooms, all richly furnish’d and adorn’d, but far inferior
to the last he came into, and in which he was again left alone, after
being assur’d that he should not long be so.

_Count D’elmont_ cou’d not forbear giving Truce to his more serious
Reflections, to admire the Beauties of the Place he was in; where e’er
he turn’d his Eyes, he saw nothing but was splendidly Luxurious, and all
the Ornaments contriv’d in such a manner, as might fitly be a Pattern,
to Paint the Palace of the Queen of Love by: The Ceiling was vastly
high and beautify’d with most curious Paintings, the Walls were cover’d
with Tapestry, in which, most artificially were woven, in various
colour’d Silk, intermix’d with Gold and Silver, a great number of Amorous
Stories; in one Place he beheld a Naked _Venus_ sporting with _Adonis_,
in another, the Love transform’d _Jupiter_, just resuming his Shape, and
rushing to the Arms of _Leda_; there, the seeming Chast _Diana_ Embracing
her entranc’d _Endimion_; here, the God of soft Desires himself, wounded
with an Arrow of his own, and snatching Kisses from the no less enamour’d
_Psiche_: betwixt every one of these Pieces hung a large Looking-Glass,
which reach’d to the top of the Room, and out of each sprung several
crystal Branches, containing great Wax-Tapers, so that the number of
Lights vy’d with the Sun, and made another, and more glorious Day, than
that which lately was withdrawn. At the upper End of this magnificent
Chamber, there was a Canopy of Crimson Velvet, richly emboss’d, and
trim’d with Silver, the Corners of which were supported by two golden
_Cupids_, with stretch’d out Wings, as if prepar’d to fly; two of their
Hands grasp’d the extremity of the _Valen_, and the other, those nearest
to each other, joyn’d to hold a wreath of Flowers, over a Couch, which
stood under the Canopy. But tho’ the Count was very much taken at first
with what he saw, yet he was too sincere a Lover to be long delighted
with any thing in the absence of his Mistress: How Heavenly (said he to
himself Sighing) wou’d be this Place, if I expected _Melliora_ here! But
Oh! how preferable were a Cottage blest with her, to all this Pomp and
Grandeur with any other; this Consideration threw him into a deep Musing,
which made him forget either where he was, or the Business which brought
him there, till rous’d from it by the dazling Owner of this sumptuous
Apartment. Nothing could be more glorious than her Appearance; she was
by Nature, a Woman of a most excellent Shape, to which, her desire of
Pleasing, had made her add all the aids of Art; she was drest in a Gold
and Silver stuff Petticoat, and a Wastcoat of plain blew Sattin, set
round the Neck and Sleeves, and down the Seams with Diamonds, and fastned
on the Breast, with Jewels of a prodigeous largeness and lustre; a Girdle
of the same encompass’d her Waste; her Hair, of which she had great
quantity, was black as Jet, and with a studied Negligence, fell part of
it on her Neck in careless Ringlets, and the other was turn’d up, and
fasten’d here and there with Bodkins, which had pendant Diamonds hanging
to ’em, and as she mov’d, glittered with a quivering Blaze, like Stars
darting their fires from out a sable Sky; she had a Vail on, but so thin,
that it did not, in the least, obscure the shine of her Garments, or her
Jewels, only she had contriv’d to double that part of it which hung over
her Face, in so many folds, that it serv’d to conceal her as well as a
_Vizard_ Mask.

The Count made no doubt but this was the Lady for whom he waited, and
throwing off that melancholly Air he had been in, assum’d one, all gay
and easy, and bowing low, as he advanc’d to meet her; Madam, said he,
if you are that incomparable _Camilla_, whose Goodness nothing but her
Beauty can equalize, you will forgive the intrusion of a Stranger, who
confesses himself no other way worthy of the Honour of your Conversation,
but by his Desires to serve him who is much more so: A Friend of
_Cittolini_’s, answer’d she, can never want admittance here, and if you
had no other Plea, the Name you come in, is a sufficient Warrant for your
kind Reception: I hope, resum’d he in a low Voice, and looking round
to see if there were no Attendants in hearing, I bring a Better, from
_Frankville_, Madam, the adoring _Frankville_, I have these Credentials
to Justify my Visit; in speaking this, he deliver’d the Letter to her,
which she retiring a few Paces from him to read, gave him an opportunity
of admiring the Majesty of her Walk, and the agreeable loftiness of her
Mein, much more than he had time to do before.

She dwelt not long on the Contents of the Letter, but throwing it
carelesly down on a Table which stood near her, turn’d to the Count, and
with an Accent which express’d not much Satisfaction; and was it to you,
my Lord! said she, that Monsieur _Frankville_ ow’d his Preservation? I
was so happy, reply’d he, to have some little hand in it, but since I
have known how dear he is to you, think my self doubly blest by Fortune
for the means of acting any thing conducive to your Peace: If you imagine
that this is so, resum’d she hastily, you are extreamly mistaken, as you
will always be, when you believe, where Count _D’elmont_ appears, any
other Man seems worthy the regard of a discerning Woman; but, continu’d
she, perceiving he look’d surpriz’d, to spare your suspence, and my self
the trouble of repeating what you know already, behold who she is, you
have been talking to, and tell me now, if _Frankville_ has any Interest
in a Heart to which this Face belongs? With these Words she threw off
her Vail, and instead of lessening his Amazement, very much encreas’d
it, in discovering the Features of the Lady, with whom he had discoursed
the Night before in the Garden, He knew not what to think, or how to
reconcile to Reason, that _Camilla_, who so lately lov’d, and had granted
the highest Favours to _Frankville_, shou’d on a sudden be willing,
uncourted, to bestow them on another, nor cou’d he comprehend how the
same Person shou’d at once live in two several Places, for he conceiv’d
the House he was in, was far distant from the Garden which he had been in
the Night before.

They both remain’d for some Moments in a profound Silence, the Lady
expecting when the Count shou’d speak, and he endeavouring to recollect
himself enough to do so, ’till she, at last, possibly guessing at his
Thoughts, resum’d her Discourse in this manner: My Lord, said she,
wonder not at the Power of Love, a Form like yours might soften the most
rugged Heart, much more one, by Nature so tender as is mine.----Think
but what you are, continu’d she sighing, and making him sit down by her
on the Couch, and you will easily excuse whatever my Passion may enforce
me to commit. I must confess Madam, answer’d he very gravely, I never
in my Life wanted presence of mind so much as at this juncture, to see
before me here, the Person, who, I believ’d, liv’d far from hence, who,
by Appointment, I was to wait on this Night at a different Place.----To
find in the Mistress of my Friend, the very Lady, who seems unworthily
to have bestow’d her Heart on me, are Circumstances so Incoherent, as
I can neither account for, or make evident to _Reason_, tho’ they are
too truly so to _Sense_: It will be easy, reply’d she, to reconcile
both these seeming Contradictions, when you shall know that the Gardens
belonging to this House, are of a very large Extent, and not only that,
but the turning of the Streets are so order’d, as make the Distance
between the fore, and back Door appear much greater than really it is:
And for the other, as I have already told you, you ought to be better
acquainted with your self, than to be surpriz’d at Consequences which
must infallibly attend such Charms: In saying this, she turn’d her Head a
little on one side, and put her Handkerchief before her Face, affecting
to seem confus’d at what she spoke; but the Count redned in good Earnest,
and with a Countenance which express’d Sentiments, far different from
those she endeavour’d to Inspire: Madam, said he, tho’ the good Opinion
you have of me is owing entirely to the _Error_ of your _Fancy_, which
too often, especially in your Sex, blinds the _Judgment_, yet, ’tis
certain, that there are not many Men, whom such Praises, coming from a
Mouth like yours, wou’d not make Happy and Vain; but if I was ever of
a Humour to be so, it is now wholly mortify’d in me, and ’tis but with
the utmost regret, that I must receive the Favours you confer on me to
the prejudice of my Friend: And is that, interrupted she hastily, is
that the _only_ Cause? Does nothing but your Friendship to _Frankville_
prevent my Wishes? That, of itself, answer’d he, were a sufficient Bar to
sunder us for ever, but there’s another, if not a greater, a more tender
one, which, to restore you to the Path, which Honour, Gratitude, and
Reason call you to, I must inform you of, yes, I must tell you, Madam,
all lovely as you are, that were there no such Man as _Frankville_, in
the World,----were you as free as Air, I have a defence within, which all
your Charms can never pierce, nor softness melt---I am already bound,
not with the weak Ties of Vows or formal Obligations, which confine no
farther than the Body, but Inclination!----the fondest Inclination! That
ever swell’d a _Heart_ with Rapturous Hopes: The Lady had much ado to
contain herself till he had done speaking; she was by Nature extreamly
Haughty, Insolent of her Beauty, and impatient of any thing she thought
look’d like a flight of it, and this open Defyance of _her_ Power, and
acknowledging _anothers_, had she been less in Love wou’d have been
insupportable to her: Ungrateful and uncourtly Man, said she, looking
on him with Eyes that sparkled at once with Indignation and Desire, you
might have spar’d yourself the trouble of Repeating, and me the Confusion
of hearing, in what manner you stand Engag’d, it had been enough to have
told me you never cou’d be mine, without appearing transported at the
Ruin which you make; if my too happy Rival possesses Charms, I cannot
boast, methinks your _good Manners_ might have taught you, not to insult
my Wants, and your _good Nature_, to have mingled _Pity_ with your
_Justice_; with these Words she fell a Weeping, but whether they were
Tears of Love or Anger, is hard to determine, ’tis certain that both
those Passions rag’d this Moment in her Soul with equal Violence, and
if she had had it in her Power, wou’d doubtless have been glad to have
hated him, but he was, at all times, too lovely to suffer a possibility
of that, and much more so at this, for in spite of the Shock, that
Infidelity he believ’d her guilty of to _Frankville_, gave him; he was
by Nature so Compassionate, he _felt_ the Woes he _saw_, or _heard_ of,
even of those who were most indifferent to him, and cou’d not now behold
a Face, in which all the Horrors of Despair were in the most lively
manner represented, without displaying a Tenderness in his, which in
any other Man, might have been taken for Love; the dazling Radience of
his Eyes, gave place to a more dangerous, more bewitching softness, and
when he sigh’d, in Pity of her Anguish, a Soul Inchanting Languishment
diffus’d itself thro’ all his Air, and added to his Graces; she presently
perceiv’d it, and forming new Hopes, as well from that, as from his
Silence, took hold of his Hand, and pressing it eagerly to her Bosom,
Oh my Lord! resum’d she, you cannot be ungrateful if you wou’d,----I
feel you cannot----Madam, interrupted he, shaking off as much possible
that show of Tenderness, which he found had given her Incouragement; I
wish not to convince you how nearly I am touch’d, with what you suffer,
lest it shou’d _encrease_ an Esteem, which, since prejudicial to your
Repose, and the Interest of my Friend; I rather ought to endeavour to
_lessen_.----But, as this is not the Entertainment I expected from
_Camilla_, I beg to know an Answer of the Business I came upon, and what
you decree for the unfortunate _Frankville_: If the Lady was agitated
with an extremity of Vexation at the _Count_’s Declaration of his Passion
for another, what was she now, at this Disappointment of the Hopes she
was so lately flatter’d with! instead of making any direct reply to what
he said, she rag’d, stamp’d, tore her Hair, curs’d _Frankville_, all
Mankind, the World, and in that height of Fury, scarce spar’d Heaven
itself; but the violence of her Pride and Resentment being a little
vented, Love took his turn, again she wept, again she prest his Hand, nay
she even knelt and hung upon his Feet, as he wou’d have broke from her,
and beg’d him with Words as eloquent as Wit cou’d Form, and desperate
dying Love Suggest, to pity and relieve her Misery: But he had now
learn’d to dissemble his Concern, lest it shou’d a second time beguile
her, and after raising her, with as careless and unmov’d an Air, as he
was capable of putting on: My Presence, Madam, said he, but augments your
Disorder, and ’tis only by seeing you no more, that I am qualify’d to
conduce to the recovery of your Peace: With these Words he turn’d hastily
from her, and was going out of the Room, when she, quick as Thought,
sprung from the Place where she had stood, and being got between him and
the Door, and throwing her self into his Arms, before he had time to
prevent her; you must not, shall not go, she cry’d, till you have left
me dead: Pardon me, Madam, answer’d he fretfully, and struggling to get
loose from her Embrace, to stay after the Discovery you have made of your
Sentiments, were to be guilty of an Injustice almost equal to your’s,
therefore I beg you’d give me liberty to pass.----Hear me but speak,
resum’d she, grasping him yet harder; return but for a Moment,----lovely
Barbarian,----Hell has no torments like your Cruelty. Here, the different
Passions working in her Soul, with such uncommon Vehemence, hurry’d
her Spirits beyond what Nature cou’d Support; her Voice faulter’d in
the Accent, her trembling Hands by slow degrees relinquish’d what so
eagerly they had held, every Sense forgot its Use, and she sunk, in all
appearance, lifeless on the Floor. The Count was, if possible, more glad
to be releas’d, than griev’d at the occasion, and contented himself with
calling her Women to her Assistance, without staying to see when she
wou’d recover.

He went out of that House with Thoughts much more discompos’d than those
with which he had entered it, and when he came Home, where _Frankville_
impatiently waited his Return, he was at the greatest loss in the World,
how to discover his Misfortune to him; the other observing the trouble
of his Mind, which was very visible in his Countenance; my Lord, said
he, in a melancholly Tone, I need not ask you what Success, the gloom
which appears on your Brow, tells me, my ill Fortune has deny’d you the
means of speaking to _Camilla_? Accuse not Fortune, answer’d _D’elmont_,
but the influence of malicious Stars which seldom, if ever, suits our
Dispositions to our Circumstances; I have seen _Camilla_, have talk’d
to her, and ’tis from that Discourse that I cannot forbear reflection
on the Miseries of Humanity, which, while it mocks us with a show of
_Reason_, gives us no Power to curb our _Will_, and guide the erring
Appetites to Peace. Monsieur _Frankville_ at these Words first felt a
jealous Pang, and as ’tis natural to believe every Body admires what we
do, he presently imagin’d Count _D’elmont_ had forgot _Melliora_ in the
presence of _Camilla_, and that it was from the Consciousness of his own
Weakness and Inconstancy, that he spoke so feelingly: I wonder not my
Lord, said he coldly, that the Beauties of _Camilla_ shou’d inspire you
with Sentiments, which, perhaps, for many Reasons, you wou’d desire to
be free from, and I ought, in Prudence, to have consider’d, that tho’
you are the most excellent of your Kind, you are still a _Man_, and not
have the Passions incident to _Man_, and not have expos’d you to those
Dangers the sight of _Camilla_ must necessarily involve you in: I wish
to Heaven answer’d the Count, easily guessing what his Thoughts were, no
greater threatned you, and that you cou’d think on _Camilla_ with the
same indifference as I can, or she of me with more; then, in as brief
a manner as he cou’d, he gave him the Substance of what had happen’d.
_Frankville_, whose only Fault was rashness, grew almost wild at the
Recital of so unexpected a Misfortune, he knew not for a good while what
to believe, loath he was to suspect the Count, but loather to suspect
_Camilla_, yet flew into extremities of Rage against both, by turns: The
Count pitied, and forgave all that the violence of his Passion made him
utter, but offer’d not to argue with him, ’till he found him capable of
admitting his Reasons, and then, that open Sincerity, that honest noble
Assurance which always accompany’d his Sweetness, and made it difficult
to doubt the Truth of any thing he said, won the disorder’d Lover to
an entire Conviction; he now concludes his Mistress false, repents the
tenderness he has had for her, and tho’ she still appears as lovely to
his _Fancy_ as ever, she grows odious to his _Judgment_, and resolves to
use his utmost Efforts to banish her Idea from his Heart.

In this Humour he took leave of the Count, it growing late, and his last
Nights Adventure taught him the danger of Nocturnal Walks, but how he
spent his time till Morning, those can only guess, who have loved like
him, and like him, met so cruel a Disappointment.

The Count pass’d not the Night in much less Inquietude than _Frankville_,
he griev’d the powerful Influence of his own Attractions, and had
there not been a _Melliora_ in the World, he wou’d have wish’d himself
Deform’d, rather than have been the Cause of so much Misery, as his
Loveliness produc’d.

The next Morning the Count design’d to visit _Frankville_, to strengthen
him in his Resolution of abandoning all Thoughts of the unconstant
_Camilla_, but before he cou’d get drest, the other came into his
Chamber: My Lord, said he, assoon as they were alone, my perfidious
Mistress, failing to make a Conquest of your Heart, is still willing to
preserve that she had attain’d over mine, but all her Charms and her
Delusions are but vain, and to prove to your Lordship that they are so, I
have brought the Letter I receiv’d from her, scarce an Hour past, and the
true Copy of my Answer to it.

    [Illustration]

    To Monsieur FRANKVILLE.

    _Tho’ nothing proves the value of our Presence, so much as the
    Pangs our absence occasions, and in my last I rashly wish’d
    you might be sensible of mine, yet on examining my Heart, I
    presently recall’d the hasty Prayer, and found I lov’d with
    that extravagance of Tenderness, that I had rather you return’d
    it too little than too much, and methinks cou’d better bear to
    represent you to my Fancy, careless and calm as common Lovers
    are, than think, I saw you, Burning,--Bleeding,---Dying, like
    me, with hopeless Wishes, and unavailing Expectations; but Ah!
    I fear such Apprehensions are but too un-necessary----You think
    not of me, and, if in those happy days, when no cross Accident
    interven’d to part me from your Sight, my Fondness pleas’d,
    you now find nothing in CAMILLA worth a troubled Thought, nor
    breath one tender sigh in memory of our Transports past.----If
    I wrong your Love, impute it to Distraction, for Oh! ’tis sure,
    I am not in my Senses, nor know to form one regular Desire: I
    act, and speak, and think, a thousand Incoherent things, and
    tho’ I cannot forbear Writing to you, I write in such a manner,
    so wild, so different from what I wou’d, that I repent me of
    the Folly I am guilty of, even while I am committing it; but
    to make as good a Defence as I am able for these, perhaps,
    unwelcome Lines, I must inform you that they come not so much
    to let you know my Sentiments, as to engage a Discovery of
    yours: CIAMARA has discharg’d one of her Servants from her
    Attendance, who no longer courting her Favour or regarding her
    Frowns, I have prevail’d upon, not only to bring this to you,
    but to convey an Answer back to me, by the help of a String
    which I am to let down to him from my Window, therefore, if
    you are but as Kind, as he has promis’d to be Faithful, we
    may often enjoy the Blessing of this distant Conversation;
    Heaven only knows when we shall be permitted to enjoy a nearer.
    CITTOLINI is this Evening return’d from his VILLA, and nothing
    but a Miracle can save me from the necessity of making my
    Choice of him, or a Monastery, either of which is worse than
    Death, since it must leave me the Power to wish, but take away
    the means, of being what I so oft have swore to be_

                          Eternally Yours, and,

                              Yours alone,

                                                         _Camilla_.

The Count could not forbear lifting up his Eyes and Hands in token of
Amazement, at the unexampled Falshood this Woman appeared guilty of, but
perceiving Monsieur _Frankville_ was about to read the following Answer,
wou’d not Interrupt him, by asking any Questions ’till he had done.

    [Illustration]

    To _Donna_ CAMILLA.

    _If Vows are any constraint to an Inclination so addicted to
    Liberty as Yours, I shall make no difficulty to release you of
    all you ever made to me! Yes Madam, you are free to dispose
    both of your Heart and Person wheresoever you think fit, nor
    do I desire you shou’d give your self the pains of farther
    Dissimulation. I pay too entire an Obedience to your Will, to
    continue in a Passion which is no longer pleasing: Nor will, by
    an ill tim’d and unmannerly Constancy, disturb the serenity of
    your future Enjoyments with any happier Man than_

                                                        Frankville.

You see, my Lord, said he with a sigh, that I have put it out of her
Power to Triumph over my Weakness, for I confess my Heart still wears her
Chains, but e’er my Eyes or Tongue betray to her the shameful Bondage,
these Hands shou’d tear them out; therefore I made no mention of her
Behaviour to you, nor of my sending any Letter by you, not only because
I knew not if your Lordship wou’d think it proper, but lest she shou’d
imagine my Resentment proceeded from Jealousy, and that I lov’d her
still.----No, she shall ne’er have Cause to guess the truth of what I
suffer.----Her _real perfidy_ shall be repaid with _seeming Inconstancy_
and Scorn---Oh! How ’twill sting her Pride,----By Heaven, I feel a gloomy
kind of Pleasure in the Thought, and will indulge it, even to the highest
insults of Revenge.

I rather wish, reply’d the Count, you cou’d in _earnest_ be indifferent,
than only _feign_ to be so, her unexampled Levity Deceit, renders her
as unworthy of your Anger as your Love, and there is too much Danger
while you preserve the _one_, that you will not be able to throw off the
_other_.----Oh! I pretend not to it, cry’d _Frankville_, interrupting
him, she has too deep a root within my Soul ever to be remov’d---I boast
no more than a concealment of my Passion, and when I dress the horrors
of a bleeding, breaking Heart, in all the calm of cold Tranquility;
methinks, you shou’d applaud the _Noble_ Conquest: Time, said the
_Count_, after a little Pause, and a just Reflection how little she
deserves your Thoughts, will teach you to obtain a _Nobler_; that of
numbering your Love, among things that _were_, but _are_ no more, and
make you, with me, acknowledge that ’tis as great an argument of _Folly_
and _meanness of Spirit_ to continue the same Esteem when the Object
ceases to deserve, which we profess’d before the discovery of that
unworthiness, as it wou’d be of _Villany_ and _Inconstancy of Mind_, to
change, without an Efficient Cause: A great deal of Discourse pass’d
between them to the same Effect, and it was but in vain that Count
_D’elmont_ endeavour’d to perswade him to a real forgetfulness of the
Charmer, tho’ he resolv’d to seem as if he did so.

While they were disputing, one of _D’elmont’s_ Servants gave him a
Letter, which, he told him, the Person who brought it, desir’d he wou’d
answer immediately; he no sooner broke it open, and cast his Eye over
it, than he cry’d out in a kind of Transport, Oh, _Frankville_, what has
Fate been doing! You are Happy.----_Camilla_ is Innocent, and perhaps the
most deserving of her Sex; I only am Guilty, who, by a fatal Mistake have
wrong’d her Virtue, and Tormented you; but Read, continu’d he, giving him
the Letter, Read, and Satisfy your self.

Monsieur _Frankville_ was too much astonish’d at these Words to be able
to make any reply, but immediately found the Interpretation of them in
these Lines.

    [Illustration]

    To the dear cruel Destroyer of my Quiet, the never too much
    Admir’d _Count_ D’ELMONT.

    “’Tis no longer the Mistress of your Friend, a perjur’d and
    unjust _Camilla_, who languishes and dies by your Contempt, but
    one, whom all the Darts of Love had strove in vain to reach,
    ’till from your Charms they gain’d a God-like Influence, and
    un-erring Force! One, who tho’ a Widow, brings you the Offering
    of a Virgin Heart.

    “As I was sitting in my Closet, watching the progress of the
    lazy Hours, which flew not half so swift as my Desires to bring
    on the appointed time in which you promis’d to be with me in
    the Garden; my Woman came running in, to acquaint me, that
    you were in the House, and waited to speak with _Camilla_:
    Surprize, and Jealousy at once Assaulted me, and I sunk beneath
    the Apprehension that you might, by some Accident, have seen
    her, and also loved her, to ease my self of those tormenting
    Doubts I resolv’d to appear before you, in her stead, and kept
    my Vail over my Face, ’till I found that hers was unknown to
    you:-----You are not Ignorant what follow’d, the Deceit pass’d
    upon you for Truth, but I was sufficiently punish’d for it, by
    the severity of your Usage: I was just going to discover who
    I was, when the violence of my Love, my Grief, and my Despair
    threw me into that Swoon, in which, to compleat your Cruelty,
    you left me; ’twou’d be endless to endeavour to represent the
    Agonies of my Soul, when I recovered, and heard you were gone,
    but all who truly Love, as they _fear much_, so they _hope
    much_, my Tortures at length abated, at least, permitted me to
    take some intervals of Comfort, and I began to flatter my self
    that the Passion you seem’d transported with, for a nameless
    Mistress, was but a _feint_ to bring me back to him you thought
    I was oblig’d to Love, and that there was a possibility, that
    my Person and Fortune might not appear despicable to you, when,
    you shou’d know, I have no Ties but those of Inclination, which
    can be only yours while I am

                                                          _Ciamara._

    “_P.S._ If you find nothing in me worthy of your Love, my
    Sufferings are such, as justly may deserve your Pity; either
    relieve or put an end to them I conjure you---Free me from the
    ling’ring Death of Doubt, at once decree my Fate, for, like
    a God, you rule my very Will, nor dare I, without your Leave,
    throw off this wretched Being; Oh then, permit me once more to
    behold you, to try at least, to warm you into Kindness with my
    Sighs, to melt you with my Tears,---to sooth you into softness
    by a thousand yet undiscover’d Fondnesses---and, if all fail to
    die before your Eyes.”

Those who have experienc’d the force of Love, need not to be inform’d
what Joy, what Transport swell’d the Heart of Monsieur _Frankville_,
at this unexpected _Eclaircissment_ of his dear _Camilla’s_ Innocence;
when every thing concurs to make our Woes seem real, when Hopes are
dead, and even Desire is hush’d by the loud Clamours of Despair and
Rage, then,---then, to be recall’d to Life, to Light, to Heaven and Love
again, is such a torrent of o’re powering Happiness,--such a surcharge of
Extacy, as Sense can hardly bear.

What now wou’d _Frankville_ not have given that it had been in his Power
to have recall’d the last Letter he sent to _Camilla_? his Soul severely
reproach’d him for so easily believing she cou’d be False; tho’ his
Experience of the sweetness of her Disposition, made him not doubt of a
Pardon from her, when she shou’d come to know what had been the Reason
of his Jealousy; his impatience to see her, immediately put it into his
Head, that as _Ciamara_ had been the occasion of the mis-understanding
between them, _Ciamara_ might likewise be made the property to set all
right again; to this end, he entreated the Count to write her an answer
of Compliance, and a promise to come to her the next Day, in which Visit,
he wou’d, in a Disguise attend him, and being once got into the House, he
thought it wou’d be no difficulty to steal to _Camilla’s_ Apartment.

But he found it not so easy a Task as he imagin’d, to persuade Count
_D’elmont_ to come into this Design, his generous Heart, averse to all
Deceit, thought it base and unmanly to abuse with Dissimulation the real
tenderness this Lady had for him, and tho’ press’d by the Brother of
_Melliora_, and conjur’d to it, even by the Love he profess’d for her, it
was with all the reluctance in the World, that he, at last, consented,
and his Servant came several times into the Room to remind him that the
Person who brought the Letter, waited impatiently for an Answer, before
he cou’d bring himself into a Humour to write in the manner Monsieur
_Frankville_ desir’d; and tho’, scarce any Man ever had so sparkling a
Fancy, such a readiness of Thought, or aptitude of Expression, when the
dictates of his Soul, were the Employment of his Tongue or Pen, yet he
now found himself at a loss for Words, and he wasted more time in these
few Lines, than a Thousand times as many on any other Subject wou’d have
cost him.

    [Illustration]

    To the Beautiful and Obliging CIAMARA.

    _Madam_,

    “If I did not Sin against Truth when I assur’d you that I had
    a Mistress to whom I was engag’d by Inclination, I certainly
    did, when I appear’d guilty of a harshness which was never in
    my Nature; the Justice you do me in believing the Interest of
    my Friend was the greatest Motive for my seeming Unkindness I
    have not the Power sufficiently to acknowledge, but, cou’d you
    look into my Soul, you wou’d there find the Effects of your
    Inspiration, something so tender, and so grateful, as only
    favours, such as you confer, cou’d merit or create.

    “I design to make my self happy in waiting on you to Morrow
    Night about Eleven, if you will order me admittance at that
    Back-gate, which was the Place of our first Appointment, ’till
    then, I am the lovely _Ciamara_’s

                          Most Devoted Servant

                                                        _D’elmont._

    “_P.S._ There are some Reasons why I think it not safe to come
    alone, therefore beg you’ll permit me to bring a Servant with
    me, on whose secrecy I dare rely.”

When the Count had sent away this little Billet, Monsieur _Frankville_
grew very gay on the hopes of his Design succeeding; and laughing,
my Lord said he, I question whether _Melliora_ wou’d forgive me, for
engaging you in this Affair; _Ciamara_ is extreamly handsome, has Wit,
and where she attempts to Charm, has doubtless, a thousand Artifices to
obtain her wish; the Count was not in a temper to relish his Raillery,
he had a great deal of Compassion for _Ciamara_, and thought himself
inexcusable for deceiving her, and all that _Frankville_ cou’d do to
dissipate the Gloom that reflection spread about him, was but vain.

They spent the greatest part of this Day together, as they had done the
former; and when the time came that _Frankville_ thought it proper to
take Leave, it was with a much more chearful Heart, than he had the Night
before; but his Happiness was not yet secure, and in a few Hours he found
a considerable alteration in his Condition.

As soon as it was dark enough for CAMILLA to let down her String to the
Fellow whom she had order’d to wait for it, he receiv’d another Letter
fasten’d to it, and finding it was Directed as the other, for Monsieur
_Frankville_, he immediately brought it to him.

It was with a mixture of Fear and Joy, that the impatient Lover broke it
open, but both these Passions gave Place to an adequate Despair, when
having un-seal’d it, he read these Lines.

    [Illustration]

    _To Monsieur_ FRANKVILLE.

    “I have been already so much deceiv’d, that I ought not to
    boast of any skill in the Art of Divination, yet, I fancy,
    ’tis in my Power to form a juster Guess than I have done,
    what the Sentiments of your Heart will be when you first open
    this----Methinks, I see you put on a scornful Smile, resolving
    to be still unmov’d, either at Upbraidings or Complaints;
    for to do one of these, I am satisfied, you imagine is the
    reason of my troubling you with a Letter: But Sir, I am not
    altogether silly enough to believe the tenderest Supplications
    the most humble of my Sex cou’d make, has efficacy to restore
    Desire, once Dead, to Life; or if it cou’d, I am not so mean
    Spirited as to accept a return thus caus’d; nor wou’d it
    be less impertinent to Reproach; to tell you that you are
    Perjur’d---Base---Ungrateful, is what you know already, unless
    your Memory is so Complaisant as not to remind you of either
    Vows or Obligations: But, to assure you, that I reflect on
    this sudden Change of your Humour without being fir’d with
    Rage, or stupify’d with Grief, is perhaps, what you least
    expect.----Yet, strange as it may seem, it is most certain,
    that she, whom you have found the Softest, Fondest, Tenderest
    of her Kind, is in a moment grown the most Indifferent, for
    in spight of your Inconstancy, I never shall deny that I have
    Lov’d you,---Lov’d you, even to Dotage, my Passion took birth
    long before I knew you had a thought of feigning one for
    me, which frees me from that Imputation Women too frequently
    deserve, of _loving_ for no other Reason than because they are
    _beloved_, for if you ne’er had _seem’d_ to love, I shou’d have
    continu’d to do so in _Reality_. I found a thousand Charms
    in your Person and Conversation, and believ’d your Soul no
    less transcending all others in excellent Qualities, than I
    still confess your Form to be in Beauty; I drest you up in
    vain Imagination, adorn’d with all the Ornaments of Truth,
    Honour, good Nature, Generosity, and every Grace that raise
    mortal Perfection to the highest pitch, and almost reach
    Divinity,---but you have taken care to prove your self, meer
    _Man_, to like, dislike, and wish you know not what, nor why!
    If I never had any Merits, how came you to think me worthy the
    pains you have taken to engage me? And if I had, how am I so
    suddenly depriv’d of them?---No, I am still the same, and the
    only reason I appear not so to you, is, that you behold me
    now, no more, with Lover’s Eyes; the few Charms, I am Mistress
    of, look’d lovely at a distance, but lose their Lustre, when
    approach’d too near; your Fancy threw a glittering Burnish o’re
    me, which free Possession has worn off, and now, the _Woman_
    only stands expos’d to View, and I confess I justly suffer for
    the guilty Folly of believing that in your Sex Ardors cou’d
    survive Enjoyment, or if they cou’d, that such a Miracle was
    reserv’d for me; but thank Heaven my Punishment is past, the
    Pangs, the Tortures of my bleeding Heart, in tearing your Idea
    thence, already are no more! The fiery Tryal is over, and
    I am now arriv’d at the Elizium of perfect Peace, entirely
    unmolested by any warring Passion; the Fears, the Hopes, the
    Jealousies, and all the endless Train of Cares which waited
    on my hours of Love and fond Delusion, serve but to endear
    re-gain’d Tranquility; and I can cooly _Scorn_, not _hate_ your
    Falshood; and tho’ it is a Maxim very much in use among the
    Women of my Country, that, _not to Revenge, were to deserve
    Ill-usage_, yet I am so far from having a wish that way, that
    I shall always esteem your _Virtues_, and while I pardon, pity
    your _Infirmities_; shall praise your flowing Wit, without
    an Indignant remembrance how oft it has been employ’d for my
    undoing; shall acknowledge the brightness of your Eyes, and not
    in secret Curse the borrow’d softness of their Glances, shall
    think on all your past Endearments, your Sighs, your Vows, your
    melting Kisses, and the warm Fury of your fierce Embraces, but
    as a pleasing Dream, while Reason slept, and with not to renew
    at such a Price.

    “I desire no Answer to this, nor to be thought of more, go on
    in the same Course you have begun, Change ’till you are tir’d
    with roving, still let your Eyes Inchant, your Tongue Delude,
    and Oaths Betray, and all who look, who listen, and believe, be
    ruin’d and forsaken like

                                                         _Camilla._”

The calm and resolute Resentment which appear’d in the Stile of this
Letter, gave _Frankville_ very just Grounds to fear, it would be no small
Difficulty to obtain a Pardon for what he had so rashly Written; but when
he reflected on the seeming Reasons, which mov’d him to it, and that he
should have an Opportunity to let her know them, he was not altogether
Inconsolable, he pass’d the Night however in a World of Anxiety, and as
soon as Morning came, hurried away, to communicate to the _Count_ this
fresh Occasion of his Trouble.

It was now _D’elmont_’s turn to Rally, and he laugh’d as much at those
Fears, which he imagin’d Causeless, as the other had done, at the
Assignation he had perswaded him to make with _Ciamara_, but tho’ as most
of his Sex are, he was pretty much of the _Count_’s Opinion, yet, the
Re-instating himself in _Camilla_’s Esteem, was a Matter of too great
Importance to him, to suffer him to take one Moment’s ease ’till he was
perfectly Assur’d of it.

At last, the wish’d for Hour arriv’d, and he, disguis’d so, as it was
impossible for him to be known, attended the _Count_ to that dear Wicket,
which had so often given him Entrance to _Camilla_; they waited not long
for Admittance, _Brione_ was ready there to Receive them; the Sight of
her, inflam’d the Heart of Monsieur _Frankville_ with all the Indignation
imaginable, for he knew her to be the Woman, who, by her Treachery to
_Camilla_, had gain’d the Confidence of _Ciamara_, and involv’d him in
all the Miseries he had endur’d! but he contain’d himself, ’till she
taking the _Count_ by the Hand, in order to lead him to her Lady, bad him
wait her Return, which she told him should be immediately, in an outer
Room which she pointed him to.

In the mean Time she conducted the _Count_ to the Door of that
magnificent Chamber, where he had been receiv’d by the suppos’d
_Camilla_, and where he now beheld the real _Ciamara_, drest, if
possible, richer than she was the Night before, but loose as wanton
Fancy cou’d invent; she was lying on the Couch when he enter’d, and
affecting to seem as if she was not presently Sensible of his being
there, rose not to receive him ’till he was very near her; they both
kept silence for some Moments, she, waiting till he should speak,
and he, possibly, prevented by the uncertainty after what manner he
should Form his Address, so as to keep an equal Medium between the two
Extreams, of being Cruel, or too Kind, till at last the Violence of her
impatient Expectation burst out in these Words,----Oh that this Silence
were the Effect of Love!----and then perceiving he made no Answer; tell
me, continu’d she, am I forgiven for thus intruding on your _Pity_
for a Grant, which _Inclination_ would not have allow’d me? Cease
Madam, reply’d he, to encrease the Confusion which a just Sense of your
Favours, and my own Ingratitude has cast me in: How can you look with
Eyes so tender and so kind, on him who brings you nothing in Return?
Rather despise me, hate me, drive me from your Sight, believe me as I
am, unworthy of your Love, nor squander on a Bankrupt Wretch the noble
Treasure: Oh Inhuman! interrupted she, has then that Mistress of whose
Charms you boasted, engross’d all your stock of Tenderness? and have you
nothing, nothing to repay me for all this waste of Fondness,----this
lavish Prodigality of Passion, which forces me beyond my Sexes Pride, or
my own natural Modesty, to sue, to Court, to kneel and weep for Pity:
Pity, resum’d the _Count_ wou’d be a poor Reward for Love like yours, and
yet alas! continu’d he Sighing, ’tis all I have to give; I have already
told you, I am ty’d by Vows, by Honour, Inclination, to another, who
tho’ far absent hence, I still preserve the dear Remembrance of! My Fate
will soon recall me back to her, and _Paris_; yours fixes you at _Rome_,
and since we are doom’d to be for ever separated, it wou’d be base to
Cheat you with a vain Pretence, and lull you with Hopes pleasing Dreams a
while, when you must quickly wake to added Tortures, and redoubled Woe:
Heavens, cry’d she, with an Air full of Resentment, are then my Charms so
mean, my Darts so weak, that near, they cannot intercept those, shot at
such a Distance? And are you that dull, cold Platonist, which can prefer
the visionary Pleasures of an _absent_ Mistress, to the warm Transports
of the Substantial _present_: The _Count_ was pretty much surpriz’d at
these Words, coming from the Mouth of a Woman of Honour, and began now
to perceive what her Aim was, but willing to be more confirm’d, Madam,
said he, I dare not hope your Virtue wou’d permit.----Is this a Time
(Interrupted she, looking on him with Eyes which sparkled with wild
Desires, and left no want of further Explanation of her meaning) Is
this an Hour to preach of Virtue?----Married,----betroth’d, engag’d by
Love or Law, what hinders but this Moment you may be mine, this Moment,
well improv’d, might give us Joys to baffle a whole Age of Woe; make us,
at once, forget our Troubles past, and by its sweet remembrance, scorn
those to come; in speaking these Words, she sunk supinely on _D’elmont_’s
Breast; but tho’ he was not so ill-natur’d, and unmannerly as to repel
her, this sort of Treatment made him lose all the Esteem, and great part
of the Pity he had conceiv’d for her.

The Woes of Love are only worthy Commiseration, according to their
Causes; and tho’ all those kinds of Desire, which the difference of Sex
creates, bear in general, the name of Love, yet they are as vastly wide,
as Heaven and Hell; that Passion which aims chiefly at Enjoyment, in
Enjoyment ends, the fleeting Pleasure is no more remembred, but all the
stings of Guilt and Shame remain; but that, where the interiour Beauties
are consulted, and _Souls_ are Devotees, is truly Noble, Love, _there_
is a Divinity indeed, because he is immortal and unchangeable, and if
our earthy part partake the Bliss, and craving Nature is in all obey’d;
Possession thus desired, and thus obtain’d, is far from satiating,
_Reason_ is not here debas’d to _Sense_, but _Sense_ elevates itself to
_Reason_, the different Powers unite, and become pure alike.

It was plain that the Passion with which _Ciamara_ was animated, sprung
not from this last Source; she had seen the Charming Count, was taken
with his Beauty, and wish’d no farther than to possess his lovely
_Person_, his _Mind_ was the least of her Thoughts, for had she the least
Ambition to reign there, she wou’d not have so meanly sought to obtain
the one, after he had assured her, the other, far more noble part of him
was dispos’d of. The Grief he had been in, that it was not in his Power
to return her Passion, while he believ’d it meritorious, was now chang’d
to the utmost Contempt, and her Quality, and the State she liv’d in, did
not hinder him from regarding of her, in as indifferent a manner, as he
wou’d have done a common _Courtezan_.

Lost to all Sense of Honour, Pride or Shame, and wild to gratify her
furious Wishes, she spoke, without reserve, all they suggested to her,
and lying on his Breast, beheld, without concern, her Robes fly open, and
all the Beauties of her own expos’d, and naked to his View: Mad at his
Insensibility, at last she grew more bold, she kiss’d his Eyes,---his
Lips, a thousand times, then press’d him in her Arms with strenuous
Embraces,----and snatching his Hand and putting it to her Heart, which
fiercely bounded at his Touch, bid him be witness of his mighty Influence
there.

Tho’ it was impossible for any Soul to be capable of a greater, or more
constant Passion than his felt for _Melliora_, tho’ no Man that ever
liv’d, was less addicted to loose Desires,----in fine, tho’ he really
was, as _Frankville_ had told him, the most excellent of his Kind, yet,
he was still a _Man!_ And, ’tis not to be thought strange, if to the
force of such united Temptations, Nature and Modesty a little yielded;
warm’d with her fires, and perhaps, more mov’d by Curiosity, her
Behaviour having extinguish’d all his respect, he gave his Hands and Eyes
a full Enjoyment of all those Charms, which had they been answer’d by a
Mind worthy of them, might justly have inspir’d the highest Raptures,
while she, unshock’d, and unresisting, suffer’d all he did, and urg’d him
with all the Arts she was Mistress of, to more, and it is not altogether
improbable, that he might not entirely have forgot himself, if a sudden
Interruption had not restor’d his Reason to the consideration of the
Business which had brought him here.

Monsieur _Frankville_ had all this time been employ’d in a far different
manner of Entertainment; _Brione_ came to him, according to her promise,
assoon as she had introduc’d the _Count_ to _Ciamara_, and having been
commanded by that Lady to Discourse with the supposed Servant, and get
what she cou’d out of him, of the _Count_’s Affairs, she sat down and
began to talk to him with a great deal of Freedom; but he who was too
impatient to lose much time, told her he had a Secret to discover, if the
place they were in was private enough to prevent his being over-heard,
and she assuring him that it was, he immediately discover’d who he was,
and clap’d a Pistol to her Breast, swearing that Moment shou’d be the
last of her Life, if she made the least Noise, or attempted to intercept
his passage to _Camilla_: The terror she was in, made her fall on her
Knees, and conjuring him to spare her Life, beg’d a thousand Pardons for
her Infidelity, which she told him was not occasion’d by any particular
Malice to him; but not being willing to leave _Rome_ herself, the fear
of being expos’d to the revenge of _Ciamara_ and _Cittolini_, when they
shou’d find out that she had been the Instrument of _Camilla_’s Escape,
prevail’d upon her timerous Soul to that Discovery, which was the only
means to prevent what she so much dreaded: _Frankville_ contented himself
with venting his Resentment in two or three hearty Curses, and taking
her roughly by the Arm, bid her go with him to _Camilla_’s Apartment,
and discover before her what she knew of _Ciamara_’s Entertaining Count
_D’elmont_ in her Name, which she trembling promis’d to obey, and they
both went up a pair of back Stairs which led a private way to _Camilla_’s
Chamber; when they enter’d, she was sitting in her night Dress on the
Bed-side, and the unexpected sight of _Brione_, who, till now, had never
ventured to appear before her, since her Infidelity, and a Man with
her whom she thought a Stranger, fill’d her with such a surprize, that
it depriv’d her of her Speech, and gave _Frankville_ time to throw
off his Disguise, and catch her in his Arms, with all the Transports
of unfeign’d Affection, before she cou’d enough recover her self to
make any resistance, but when she did, it was with all the Violence
imaginable, and indeavouring to tear herself away; Villain, said she,
comest thou again to triumph o’re my Weakness,----again to Cheat me
into fond Belief? There needed no more to make this obsequious Lover
relinquish his Hold, and falling at her Feet, was beginning to speak
something in his Vindication; when she, quite lost in Rage, prevented
him, by renewing her Reproaches in this manner; have you not given me up
my Vows? Resum’d she, have you not abandon’d me to ruin,---to Death--to
Infamy,----to all the stings of self-accusing Conscience and Remorse?
And come you now, by your detested Presence, to alarm Remembrance,
and new point my Tortures?-----That Woman’s Treachery, continu’d she,
looking on _Brione_, I freely Pardon, since by that little Absence it
occasion’d, I have discovered the wavering disposition of your Soul,
and learn’d to scorn what is below my Anger. Hear me but speak, cry’d
_Frankville_, or if you doubt my Truth, as I confess you have almighty
Cause, let her inform you, what seeming Reasons, what Provocations urg’d
my hasty Rage to write that fatal,----that accursed Letter. I will hear
nothing, reply’d _Camilla_, neither from you nor her,----I see the base
Design, and scorn to joyn in the Deceit,--You had no Cause,----not even
the least Pretence for your Inconstancy but one, which, tho’ you all
are guilty of, you all Disown, and that is, being lov’d too well.----I
Lavish’d all the fondness of my Soul, and you, unable to reward, despiz’d
it:--But think not that the rage, you now behold me in, proceeds from
my Despair--No, your Inconstancy is the Fault of Nature, a Vice which
all your Sex are prone to, and ’tis we, the fond Believers only, are to
blame, _that_ I forgave, my Letter told you that I did----but thus to
come----thus Insolent in Imagination, to dare to hope I were that mean
Soul’d Wretch, whose easy Tameness, and whose doating Love, with Joy
would welcome your return, clasp you again in my deluded Arms, and swear
you were as dear as ever, is such an affront to my Understanding, as
merits the whole Fury of Revenge! as she spoke these Words, she turn’d
disdainfully from him with a Resolution to leave the Room, but she
could not make such hast to go away, as the despairing, the distracted
_Frankville_ did to prevent her, and catching hold of her Garments,
stay Madam, said he, wildly, either permit me to clear my self of this
barbarous Accusation, or, if you are resolv’d, Unhearing, to Condemn me,
behold me, satiate all your Rage can wish, for by Heaven, continued he,
holding the Pistol to his own Breast, as he had done a little before to
_Brione_’s, by all the Joys I have Possest, by all the Hell I now endure,
this Moment I’ll be receiv’d your _Lover_, or expire your _Martyr_. These
Words pronounc’d so passionately, and the Action that accompany’d them,
made a visible alteration in _Camilla_’s Countenance, but it lasted
not long, and Resuming her fierceness; your Death, cry’d she, this way
would give me little Satisfaction, the World would judge more Noble of
my Resentment, if by my Hand you fell----Yet, continu’d she, snatching
the Pistol from him, and throwing it out of the Window, which happen’d
to be open, I will not---cannot be the Executioner.--No, Live! And let
thy Punishment be, in _Reality_, to endure what thou well _Dissemblest_,
the Pangs, the racking Pangs, of hopeless, endless Love!--May’st thou
_indeed_, Love _Me_, as thou a thousand Times hast falsely sworn,---for
ever _Love_, and I, for ever _Hate!_ In this last Sentence, she flew
like Lightning to her Closet, and shut her self in, leaving the amaz’d
Lover still on his Knees, stupify’d with Grief and Wonder, all this
while _Brione_ had been casting about in her Mind, how to make the best
use of this Adventure with _Ciamara_, and encourag’d by _Camilla_’s
Behaviour and taking advantage of _Frankville_’s Confusion, made but one
Step to the Chamber Door, and running out into the Gallery, and down
Stairs, cry’d Murder,----Help, a Rape----Help, or _Donna Camilla_ will
be carry’d away.---She had no occasion to call often, for the Pistol
which _Camilla_ threw out of the Window chanc’d to go off in the fall,
and the report it made, had alarm’d some of the Servants who were in an
out-House adjoyning to the Garden, and imagining there were Thieves, were
gathering to search: some arm’d with Staves, some with Iron Bars, or any
thing they could get in the Hurry they were in, as they were running
confusedly about, they met Monsieur _Frankville_ pursuing _Brione_, with
a design to stop her Mouth, either by Threatnings or Bribes, but she was
too nimble for him, and knowing the ways of the House much better than he
did, went directly to the Room where _Ciamara_ was Caressing the Count in
the manner already mention’d: Oh Madam, said she, you are impos’d on, the
Count has deceiv’d your Expectations, and brought Monsieur _Frankville_
in Disguise to rob you of _Camilla_. These Words made them both, tho’
with very different Sentiments, start from the posture they were in, and
_Ciamara_ changing her Air of Tenderness for one all Fury, Monster! Cry’d
she to _D’elmont_, have you then betray’d me? This is no time, reply’d
he, hearing a great Bustle, and _Frankville_’s Voice pretty loud without,
for me to answer you, my Honour calls me to my Friend’s assistance; and
drawing his Sword, run as the Noise directed him to the Place where
_Frankville_ was defending himself against a little Army of _Ciamara_’s
Servants, she was not much behind him, and enrag’d to the highest degree,
cry’d out, kill, kill them both! But that was not a Task for a much
greater Number of such as them to Accomplish, and tho’ their Weapons
might easily have beat down, or broke the Gentlemens Sword; yet their
Fears kept them from coming too near, and _Ciamara_ had the Vexation to
see them both Retreat with Safety, and her self disappointed, as well in
her Revenge, as in her Love.

Nothing cou’d be more surpriz’d, than Count _D’elmont_ was, when he got
Home, and heard from _Frankville_ all that had pass’d between him and
_Camilla_, nor was his Trouble less, that he had it not in his Power to
give him any Advice in any Exigence so uncommon: He did all he cou’d
to comfort and divert his Sorrows, but in vain, the Wounds of bleeding
Love admit no Ease, but from the Hand which gave them; and he, who was
naturally rash and fiery, now grew to that height of Desparation and
violence of Temper, that the Count fear’d some fatal Catastrophe, and
wou’d not suffer him to stir from him that Night, nor the next Day,
till he had oblig’d him to make a Vow, and bind it with the most solemn
Imprecations, not to offer any thing against his Life.

But, tho’ plung’d into the lowest depth of Misery, and lost, to all
Humane probability, in an inextricable Labyrinth of Woe, _Fortune_ will
find, at last some way, to raise, and disentangle those, whom she is
pleas’d to make her Favourites, and that Monsieur _Frankville_ was one,
an unexpected Adventure made him know.

The third Day from that, in which he had seen _Camilla_, as he was
sitting in his Chamber, in a melancholly Conversation with the Count, who
was then come to Visit him, his Servant brought him a Letter, which he
said had been just left, by a Woman of an extraordinary Appearance, and
who the Moment she had given it into his Hand, got from the Door with so
much speed, that she seem’d rather to vanish than to walk.

While the Servant was speaking, _Frankville_ look’d on the Count with a
kind of a pleas’d Expectation in his Eye, but then casting them on the
Direction of the Letter, Alas! Said he, how vain was my Imagination, this
is not _Camilla’s_, but a Hand, to which I am utterly a Stranger; these
Words were clos’d with a sigh, and he open’d it with Negligence which
wou’d have been unpardonable, cou’d he have guess’d at the Contents,
but assoon as he saw the Name of Violetta at the bottom, a flash of Hope
re-kindled in his Soul, and trembling with Impatience he Read.

    [Illustration]

    To Monsieur FRANKVILLE.

    _I think it cannot be call’d Treachery, if we betray the
    Secrets of a Friend, only when Concealment were an Injury, but
    however I may be able to answer this breach of Trust, I am
    about to make to my self, ’tis your Behaviour alone, which can
    absolve me to CAMILLA, and by your Fidelity she must judge of
    MINE._

    _Tho’ Daughter to the Man she hates, she finds nothing in me
    Unworthy of her Love and Confidence, and as I have been privy,
    ever since your mutual Misfortunes, to the whole History of
    your Amour, so I am now no Stranger to the Sentiments, your
    last Conversation has inspir’d her with--She loves you still,
    MONSIEUR--with an extremity of Passion loves you,----But, tho’
    she ceases to believe you unworthy of it, her Indignation for
    your unjust Suspicion of her will not be easily remov’d--She is
    resolv’d to act the HEROINE, tho’ to purchase that Character
    it shou’d cost her Life: She is determin’d for a Cloyster, and
    has declared her Intention, and a few Days will take away all
    Possibility of ever being yours; but I, who know the conflicts
    she endures, wish it may be in your Power to prevent the
    Execution of a Design, which cannot, but be fatal to her: My
    Father and CIAMARA, I wish I cou’d not call her Aunt, were last
    Night in private Conference, but I over heard enough of their
    Discourse, to know there has been some ungenerous Contrivance
    carry’d on to make you, and CAMILLA appear guilty to each
    other, and ’tis from that Knowledge I derive my Hopes, that
    you have Honour enough to make a right Use of this Discovery,
    if you have anything to say, to further the Intercessions I
    am imploy’d in, to serve you; Prepare a Letter, which I will
    either prevail on her to READ, or oblige her, in spite of the
    Resolution she has made, to HEAR: But take care, that in the
    least, you hint not that you have receiv’d one from me, for I
    shall perswade her that the Industry of your Love has found
    means of conveying it to me, without my Knowledge: Bring it
    with you this Evening to St. PETER’S, and assoon as Divine
    Service is over, follow her who shall drop her Handkerchief as
    she passes you, for by that Mark you shall distinguish her whom
    you yet know, but by the Name of_

                                                          Violetta.

    P.S. _One thing, and indeed not the least, which induc’d me
    to write, I had almost forgot, which is, that your Friend the
    Accomplish’d Count D’ELMONT, is as much endangered by the
    Resentment of CIAMARA, as your self by that of my Father, bid
    him beware how he receives any Letter, or Present from a Hand
    unknown, lest he should Experience, what he has doubtless heard
    of, our ITALIAN Art of Poysoning by the smell._

When Monsieur _Frankville_ had given this Letter to the Count to read,
which he immediately did, they both of them broke into the highest
Encomiums on this young Lady’s Generosity, who contrary to the custom of
her Sex, which seldom forgives an affront of that kind, made it her study
to serve the Man who had refus’d her, and make her Rival blest.

These Testimonies of a grateful Acknowledgement being over, _Frankville_
told the Count, he believ’d the most, and indeed the only effectual
Means to extinguish _Camilla’s_ Resentment wou’d be entirely to remove
the Cause, which cou’d be done no other way, than by giving her a full
Account of _Ciamara’s_ behaviour, while she pass’d for her: _D’elmont_
readily consented, and thought it not at all inconsistent with his
Honour to Expose that of a Woman who had shewn so little Value for it
herself: And when he saw that _Frankville_ had finish’d his Letter,
which was very long, for Lovers cannot easily come to a Conclusion, he
offer’d to write a Note to her, enclos’d in the other, which shou’d serve
as an Evidence of the Truth of what he had alledged in his Vindication:
_Frankville_ gladly embrac’d the kind Proposal, and the other immediately
made it good in these Words.

    [Illustration]

    To _Donna_ CAMILLA.

    Madam,

    _If the Severity of your Justice requires a VICTIM, I only am
    Guilty, who being Impos’d upon my self, ENDEAVOUR’D, for I
    cannot say I cou’d ACCOMPLISH it, to involve the Unfortunate
    FRANKVILLE in the same fatal Error, and at last, prevail’d on
    him to WRITE, what he cou’d not be brought, by all my Arguments
    to THINK._

    _Let the Cause which led me to take this Freedom, excuse the
    Presumption of it, which, from one so much a Stranger, wou’d be
    else unpardonable: But when we are conscious of a Crime, the
    first reparation we can make to Innocence, is, to acknowledge
    we have offended; and, if the Confession of my Faults, may
    purchase an Absolution for my Friend, I shall account it the
    noblest Work of Supererogation._

    _Be assur’d, that as inexorable as you are, your utmost Rigour
    wou’d find its Satisfaction, if you cou’d be sensible of what I
    suffer in a sad Repentance for my Sin of injuring so Heavenly
    a Virtue, and perhaps, in time be mov’d by it, to Pity and
    Forgive_

                         The Unhappily deceiv’d

                                                          D’elmont.

The time in which they had done Writing, immediately brought on that of
_Violetta_’s Appointment, and the Count wou’d needs accompany Monsieur
_Frankville_ in this Assignation, saying, he had an acknowledgment to
pay to that Lady, which he thought himself oblig’d, in good Manners and
Gratitude, to take this Opportunity to do; and the other being of the
same Opinion, they went together to St. _Peter_’s.

When Prayers were done, which, ’tis probable, _One_ of these Gentlemen,
if not _Both_, might think too tedious, they stood up, and looking round,
impatiently expected when the promis’d Signal shou’d be given; but among
the great Number of Ladies, which pass’d by them, there were very few,
who did not stop a little to gaze on these two Accomplish’d _Chevaliers_,
and they were several times Tantaliz’d with an _imaginary_ Violetta,
before the _real_ one appear’d. But when the Crowd were almost dispers’d,
and they began to fear some Accident had prevented her coming, the long
expected Token was let fall, and she who threw it, trip’d hastily away
to the farther end of the _Collonade_, which hapned to be entirely void
of Company: The Count and his Companion, were not long behind her, and
Monsieur _Frankville_ being the Person chiefly concern’d, address’d
himself to her in this manner; With what Words, Madam, said he, can a Man
so infinitely Oblig’d, and so desirous to be Grateful, as _Frankville_,
sufficiently make known his admiration of a Generosity like yours? Such
an unbounded Goodness, shames all Discription! Makes Language vile, since
it affords no Phrase to suit your Worth, or speak the mighty Sense my
Soul has of it. I have no other Aim, reply’d she, in what I have done,
than Justice; and ’tis only in the proof of your sincerity to _Camilla_,
that I am to be thank’d. _Frankville_ was about to answer with some
assurances of his Faith, when the Count stepping forward, prevented him:
My Friend, Madam, said he bowing, is most happy in having it in his Power
to obey a Command, which is the utmost of his Wishes; but how must I
acquit my self of any part of that Return which is due to you, for that
generous Care you have been pleas’d to express for the preservation of my
Life? There needs no more, interrupted she, with a perceivable alteration
in her Voice, than to have _seen_ Count _D’elmont_, to be interested in
his Concerns--she paus’d a little after speaking these Words, and then,
as if she thought she had said too much, turn’d hastily to _Frankville_,
the Letter, _Monsieur_, continu’d she, the Letter,---’tis not impossible
but we may be observ’d,---I tremble with the apprehension of a Discovery:
_Frankville_ immediately deliver’d it to her, but saw so much Disorder in
her Gesture, that it very much surpriz’d him: She trembled indeed, but
whether occasioned by any danger she perceiv’d of being taken notice of,
or some other secret Agitation she felt within, was then unknown to any
but herself, but whatever it was, it transported her so far, as to make
her quit the Place, without being able to take any other Leave than a
hasty _Curtisie_, and bidding _Frankville_ meet her the next Morning at
_Mattins_.

Here was a new Cause of Disquiet to _D’elmont_; the Experience he had of
the too fatal influence of his dangerous Attractions, gave him sufficient
Reason to fear this young Lady was not insensible of them, and that his
Presence was the sole Cause of her Disorder; however, he said nothing of
it to _Frankville_ ’till the other mentioning it to him, and repeating
her Words, they both joyn’d in the Opinion, that Love had been too busy
in her Heart, and that it was the feeling the Effects of it in herself,
had inclined her to so much Compassion for the Miseries she saw it
inflicted upon others. The Count very well knew that when Desires of
this Kind are springing in the Soul, every Sight of the beloved Object,
encreases their growth, and therefore, tho’ her generous manner of
Proceeding had created in him a very great Esteem, and he wou’d have
been pleas’d with her Conversation, yet he ceas’d to wish a farther
Acquaintance with her, lest it should render her more Unhappy, and
forbore going the next Day to Church with _Frankville_, as else he wou’d
have done.

VIOLETTA fail’d not to come as she had promis’d, but instead of dropping
her Handkerchief, as she had done the Evening before, she knelt as close
to him as she cou’d, and pulling him gently by the Sleeve, oblig’d him to
regard her, who else, not knowing her, wou’d not have suspected she was
so near, and slip’d a Note into his Hand, bidding him softly, not take
any farther notice of her: He obey’d, but ’tis reasonable to believe,
was too impatient to know what the Contents were, to listen with much
Attention and Devotion to the remainder of the Ceremony; as soon he was
releas’d, he got into a Corner of the _Cathedral_, where, unobserv’d he
might satisfy a Curiosity, which none who Love, will condemn him for, any
more than they will for the thrilling Extacy which fill’d his Soul at the
Reading these Lines.

[Illustration]

    [Illustration]

    To Monsieur FRANKVILLE.

    _For fear I should not have an Opportunity of speaking to you,
    in safety, I take this Method to inform you, that I have been
    so Successful in my Negotiation, as to make CAMILLA repent
    the Severity of her Sentence, and wish for nothing more than
    to recall it: you are now entirely justified in her Opinion,
    by the Artifice which was made use of to Deceive you, and she
    is, I believe, no less enrag’d at CIAMARA, for depriving her
    of that Letter you sent by the COUNT, than she was at you for
    that unkind one, which came to her Hands. She is now under less
    restraint, since BRIONE’s Report of her Behaviour to you, and
    the everlasting Resentment she vow’d, and I have prevail’d on
    her to accompany me in a Visit I am to make, to morrow in the
    Evening, to DONNA CLARA METTELINE, a Nun, in the Monastery of
    St. AUGUSTINE, and if you will meet us there, I believe it not
    impossible but she may be brought to a Confession of all I have
    discover’d to you of her Thoughts._

    _The COUNT’S Letter was of no small Service to you, for tho’
    without that Evidence she wou’d have been convinc’d of your
    Constancy, yet she wou’d hardly have acknowledged she was so!
    and if he will take the Pains to come with you to morrow I
    believe his Company will be acceptable, if you think it proper;
    you may let him know as much from_

                                                          Violetta.

    P.S. _I beg a thousand Pardons both of you and the COUNT, for
    the abruptness of my Departure last Night; something happen’d
    to give me a Confusion from which I cou’d not at that time
    recover, but hope for the future to be more Mistress of my
    self._

Monsieur _Frankville_ hasted to the _Count_’s Lodgings, to communicate
his good Fortune, but found him in a Humour very unfit for
Congratulations; the Post had just brought him a Letter from his Brother,
the Chevalier _Brillian_, the Contents whereof were these.

    [Illustration]

    _To Count_ D’ELMONT.

    MY LORD,

    _’Tis with an inexpressible Grief that I obey the Command you
    left me, for giving you from Time to time an exact Account
    of MELLIORA’s Affairs, since what I have now to acquaint you
    with, will make you stand in Need of all your Moderation to
    support it. But, not to keep your Expectation on the Rack, loth
    as I am, I must inform you, that MELLIORA is, by some unknown
    Ravisher stolen from the Monastery----The manner of it, (as I
    have since learn’d from those who were with her) was thus: As
    she was walking in the Fields, behind the Cloyster Gardens,
    accompanied by some young Lady’s, Pensioners there as well as
    her self, four Men well mounted, but Disguis’d and Muffled,
    rode up to them, three of them jump’d off their Horses, and
    while one seiz’d on the defenceless Prey; and bore her to
    his Arms, who was not alighted, the other two caught hold of
    her Companions, and prevented the Out-cries they would have
    made, ’till she was carry’d out of sight, then Mounting again
    their Horses, immediately lost the amaz’d Virgins all Hopes of
    recovering her._

    _I conjure my dearest Brother to believe there has been nothing
    omitted for the Discovery of this Villany, but in spite of all
    the Pains and Care we have taken in the search; None of us have
    yet been happy enough to hear the least Account of her: That my
    next may bring you more welcome News, is the first wish of_

                                My Lord,

          Your Lordship’s most Zealously Affectionate Brother,
                           and Humble Servant

                                                         _Brillian_.

    P.S. _There are some People here, Malicious enough to Report,
    that the Design of carrying away MELLIORA, was contriv’d by
    you, and that it is in ROME she only can be found. It wou’d be
    of great Advantage to my Peace, if I cou’d be of the Number of
    those who believe it, but I am too well acquainted with your
    Principles to harbour such a Thought. Once more, my dear Lord,
    for this Time, ADIEU._

After the Count had given this Letter to _Frankville_ to read, he told
him, he was resolv’d to leave _Rome_ the next Day, that nobody had so
great an Interest in her Recovery as himself, that he would Trust the
Search of her to no other, and swore with the most dreadful Imprecations
he could make, never to rest, but wander, _Knight-Errand_ like, over the
whole World ’till he had found her.

Tho’ Monsieur _Frankville_ was extreamly concern’d at what had happen’d
to his Sister, yet he endeavour’d to disswade the Count from leaving
_Rome_, ’till he knew the result of his own Affair with _Camilla_; but
all his Arguments were for a long time ineffectual, ’till, at last,
showing him _Violetta_’s Letter, he prevail’d on him to defer his Journey
’till they had first seen _Camilla_, on Condition, that if she persisted
in her Rigour, he shou’d give over any further fruitless Solicitations,
and accompany him to _Paris_: This _Frankville_ promis’d to perform, and
they pass’d the time in very uneasy and impatient Cogitations, ’till the
next Day about Five in the Evening they prepar’d for the Appointment.

Count _D’elmont_ and his longing Companion, were the first at the
Rendezvous, but in a very little while they perceiv’d two Women coming
towards them: The Idea of _Camilla_ was always too much in _Frankville_’s
Thoughts, not to make him know her, by that charming Air (which he so
much ador’d her for) tho’ she was Veil’d never so closely, and the
Moment he had sight of them, Oh Heaven (cry’d he to _D’elmont_) yonder
she comes, that,----that my Lord, is the divine _Camilla_, as they came
pretty near, she that indeed prov’d to be _Camilla_, was turning on one
Side, in order to go to the Grate where she expected the _Nun_. Hold!
Hold _Donna Camilla_, cry’d _Violetta_, I cannot suffer you shou’d pass
by your Friends with an Air so unconcern’d, if Monsieur _Frankville_ has
done any thing to merit your Displeasure, my Lord the Count certainly
deserves your Notice, in the Pains he has taken to undeceive you. One
so much a Stranger as Count _D’elmont_ is, answer’d she, may very well
excuse my Thanks for an explanation, which had he been acquainted with
me he would have spar’d. Cruel _Camilla!_ Said _Frankville_, is then the
knowledge of my Innocence unwelcome?---Am I become so hateful, or are you
so chang’d, that you wish me guilty, for a justification of your Rigour?
If it be so, I have no Remedy but Death, which tho’ you depriv’d me of,
the last time I saw you, I now can find a Thousand means to compass; he
pronounc’d these Words in so Tender, yet so resolv’d an Accent; that
_Camilla_ cou’d not conceal part of the Impression they made on her, and
putting her Handkerchief to her Eyes, which in spite of all she had done
to prevent it, overflow’d with Tears; talk not of Death, said she, I am
not Cruel to that degree, Live _Frankville_, Live!----but Live without
_Camilla!_ Oh, ’tis impossible! Resum’d he, the latter part of your
Command entirely destroys the first.---Life without your Love, would be a
Hell, which I confess my Soul’s a Coward, but to think of.

The Count and _Violetta_ were Silent all this Time, and perceiving they
were in a fair way of Reconciliation, thought the best they cou’d do to
forward it, was to leave ’em to themselves, and walking a few Paces from
them; You suffer my Lord, said the, for your Generosity in accompanying
your Friend, since it condemns you to the Conversation of a Person, who
has neither _Wit_, nor _Gaiety_ sufficient to make her self Diverting.
Those, reply’d he, who wou’d make the Excellent _Violetta_ a Subject of
Diversion, ought never to be blest with the Company of any, but such
Women who merit not a serious Regard: But you indeed, were your Soul
capable of descending to the Follies of your Sex, wou’d be extreamly
at a Loss in Conversation so little Qualify’d as mine, to please the
Vanities of the Fair; and you stand in need of all those more than
_Manly_ Virtues you possess, to pardon a _Chagreen_, which even your
Presence cannot Dissipate: If it cou’d, interrupted she, I assure your
Lordship, I shou’d much more _rejoice_ in the happy Effects of it on
you, than _Pride_ my self in the Power of such an Influence--And yet
continu’d she with a Sigh, I am a very Woman, and if free from the usual
Affectations and Vanities of my Sex, I am not so from Faults, perhaps,
less worthy of forgiveness: The Count cou’d not presently resolve what
reply to make to these Words; he was unwilling she should believe he
wanted Complaisance, and afraid of saying any thing that might give room
for a Declaration of what he had no Power of answering to her wish; but
after the consideration of a Moment or two, Madam, said he, tho’ I dare
not Question your Sincerity in any other Point, yet you must give me
leave to disbelieve you in this, not only, because, in my Opinion, there
is nothing so contemptibly ridiculous as that self sufficiency, and vain
desire of pleasing, commonly known by the Name of _Coquetry_, but also,
because she who escapes the Contagion of this Error, will not without
much difficulty be led into any other: Alas my Lord, cry’d _Violetta_,
how vastly wide of Truth is this Affection? That very foible, which
is most pernicious to our Sex, is chiefly by _Coquetry_ prevented: I
need not tell you that ’tis Love I mean, and as blamable as you think
the _one_, I believe the _other_ wou’d find less favour from a Person
of your Lordship’s Judgment: How Madam, interrupted the Count, pretty
warmly, have I the Character of a Stoick?---Or do you, imagine that my
Soul, is compos’d that course Stuff, not to be capable of receiving,
or approving a Passion, which, all the Brave, and generous think it
their glory to Profess, and which can only give refin’d delight, to
Minds enobled.----But I perceive, continu’d he growing more cool, I am
not happy enough in your Esteem, to be thought worthy the Influence of
that God. Still you mistake my Meaning, said _Violetta_, I doubt not of
your Sensibility, were there a possibility of finding a Woman worthy
of Inspiring you with soft Desires; and if that shou’d ever happen,
Love wou’d be so far from being a weakness, that it wou’d serve rather
as an Embelishment to your other Graces; it’s only when we stoop to
Objects below our Consideration, or vainly wing our wishes to those
above our Hopes, that makes us appear ridiculous or contemptible; but
either of these is a Folly which,----which the incomparable _Violetta_,
interrupted _D’elmont_, never can be guilty of: You have a very good
Opinion of my Wit resum’d she, in a melancholly Tone, but I shou’d be
much happier than I am, if I were sure I cou’d secure my self from doing
any thing to forfeit it: I believe, reply’d the Count there are not many
things you have less Reason to apprehend than such a Change; and I am
confident were I to stay in _Rome_ as many _Ages_, as I am determin’d
to do but _Hours_, I shou’d, at last, leave it, with the same Esteem
and Admiration of your singular Vertues, as I now shall do. _Violetta_
cou’d not prevent the Disorder these Words put her into, from discovering
it self in the Accent of her Voice, when, How! My Lord, said she, are
we then to lose you?---Lose you in so short a Time? As the Count was
about to answer, _Frankville_ and _Camilla_ joyn’d them, and looking on
_Frankville_, if any Credit, said he, may be given to the Language of
the Eyes, I am certain yours speak Success, and I may congratulate a
Happiness you lately cou’d not be persuaded to hope; had I a thousand
Eyes, cry’d the transported Lover, a thousand Tongues, they all wou’d be
but insignificant to express the Joy!----the unbounded Extacy, my Soul
is full of,----but take the mighty Meaning in one Word,----_Camilla_’s
mine---for ever mine!---the Storm is past, and all the sunny Heaven
of Love returns to bless my future Days with ceaseless Raptures: Now,
my Lord, I am ready to attend you in your Journey, this Bright! This
beauteous Guardian Angel, will partake our Flight! And we have nothing
now to do, but to prepare with secrecy and speed fit means for our
Escape. As soon as _Frankville_ had left off speaking, Count _D’elmont_
addressing himself to _Camilla_, made her abundance of Retributions, for
the happiness she gave his Friend, which she receiving with a becoming
Chearfulness, and unaffected Gaiety, I am afraid said she, your Lordship
will think a Woman’s Resolution is, henceforth, little worth regarding;
but, continu’d she, taking _Violetta_ by the Hand, I see well, that this
unfaithful Creature, has betray’d me, and to punish her Infidelity, will,
by leaving her, put it out of her Power to deceive my Confidence again:
_Violetta_ either did not hear, or was not in a condition to return her
_Raillery_, nor the Praises which the Count and Monsieur _Frankville_
concurr’d in of her Generosity, but stood motionless and lost in Thought,
till _Camilla_ seeing it grow towards Night, told the Gentlemen, she
thought it best to part, not only to avoid any Suspicion at Home of their
being out so long, but also that the others might order every thing
proper for their Departure, which it was agreed on between _Frankville_
and her, should be the next Night, to prevent the Success of those
mischievous Designs she knew _Ciamara_ and _Cittolini_ were forming,
against both the Count and Monsieur _Frankville_.

Matters being thus adjusted to the entire Satisfaction of the Lovers, and
not in a much less proportion to the Count, they all thought it best to
avoid making any more Appointments till they met to part no more; which
was to be at the Wicket at dead of Night. When the Count took leave of
_Violetta_, this being the last time he cou’d expect to see her; she was
hardly able to return his Civilities, and much less to answer those which
_Frankville_ made her, after the Count had turn’d from her to give him
way; both of them guess’d the Cause of her Confusion, and _D’elmont_ felt
a concern in observing it, which nothing but that for _Melliora_ cou’d
surpass.

The next Day found full Employment for them all; but the Count, as
well as _Frankville_, was too impatient to be gone, to neglect any
thing requisite for their Departure, there was not the least particular
wanting, long before the time they were to wait at the Wicket for
_Camilla_’s coming forth: The Count’s Lodging being the nearest, they
stay’d there, watching for the long’d for Hour; but a little before it
arriv’d, a Youth, who seem’d to be about 13 or 14 Years of Age, desir’d
to be admitted to the Count’s presence, which being granted, pulling a
Letter out of his Pocket, and blushing as he approach’d him: I come my
Lord, said he, from _Donna Violetta_, the Contents of this will inform
you on what Business; but lest the Treachery of others, shou’d render me
suspected, permit me to break it open, and prove it carries no Infection:
The Count look’d earnestly on him while he spoke, and was strangely
taken with the uncommon Beauty and Modesty which he observ’d in him: You
need not give your self the trouble of that Experiment, answer’d he,
_Donna Violetta_’s Name, and your own engaging Aspect, are sufficient
Credentials, if I were liable to doubt; in saying this, he took the
Letter, and full of Fears that some Accident had happen’d to _Camilla_,
which might retard their Journey, hastily read over these Lines.

    [Illustration]

    _To the Worthy_ Count D’ELMONT.

    My LORD,

    _If any Part of that Esteem you Profess’d to have for me, be
    real, you will not deny the Request I make you to accept this
    Youth, who is my Relation, in Quality of a Page: He is inclin’d
    to Travel, and of all Places, FRANCE is that which he is most
    desirous of going to: If a diligent CARE, a faithful Secresy,
    and an Unceasing watchfulness to please, can render him
    acceptable to your Service, I doubt not but he will, by those,
    Recomend himself, hereafter: In the mean Time beg you will
    receive him on my Word: And if that will be any Inducement to
    prejudice you in his Favour, I assure you, that tho’ he is one
    degree nearer in Blood to my Father, he is by many in Humour
    and Principles to_

                                                         Violetta.

    P.S. _May Health Safety and Prosperity attend you in your
    Journey, and all the Happiness you wish for, crown the End._

The Young _Fidelio_, for so he was call’d, cou’d not wish to be receiv’d
with greater Demonstrations of Kindness than those the Count gave him:
And perceiving that _Violetta_ had trusted him with the whole Affair
of their leaving _Rome_ in private, doubted not of his Conduct, and
consulted with him, who they found knew the Place perfectly well, after
what manner they should Watch, with the least danger of being discover’d,
for _Camilla_’s opening the Wicket: _Frankville_ was for going alone,
lest if any of the Servants shou’d happen to be about, one Person would
be less liable to suspicion, than it a Company were seen; the Count
thought it most proper to go all together, remembring _Frankville_
of the danger he had lately scap’d, and might again be brought into;
but _Fidelio_ told them, he wou’d advise that they two should remain
conceal’d in the _Portico_, of the Convent of St. _Francis_, while
himself wou’d watch alone at the Wicket for _Camilla_, and lead her
to them, and then afterwards they might go altogether to that Place
where the Horses and Servants shou’d attend them; the Page’s Counsel
was approv’d by both of them, and the time being arriv’d, what they had
contriv’d was immediately put in Execution.

Every thing happen’d according to their Desire, _Camilla_ got safely to
the Arms of her impatient Lover, and they all taking Horse, rode with
such Speed, as some of them wou’d have been little able to bear, if any
thing less than Life and Love had been at Stake.

Their eager wishes, and the goodness of their Horses brought them, before
Day-break many Miles from _Rome_; but tho’ they avoided all high Roads,
and travell’d cross the Country to prevent being met, or overtook by any
that might know them, yet their desire of seeing themselves in a Place of
Security was so great that they refus’d to stop to take any Refreshment
’till the next Day was almost spent; but when they were come into the
House where they were to lye that Night, not all the fatigue they had
endur’d, kept the Lovers from giving and receiving all the Testimonies
imaginable of mutual Affection.

The sight of their Felicity added new Wings to Count _D’elmont_’s
impatience to recover _Melliora_, but when he consider’d the little
probability of that hope, he grew inconsolable, and his new Page
_Fidelio_, who lay on a _Pallet_ in the same Room with him, put all
his Wit, of which he had no small Stock, upon the stretch to divert
his Sorrows, he talk’d to him, sung to him, told him a hundred pretty
Stories, and, in fine, made good the Character _Violetta_ had given him
so well, that the Count look’d on him as a Blessing sent from Heaven to
lessen his Misfortunes, and make his Woes sit easy.

They continu’d Travelling with the same Expedition as when they first
set out, for three or four Days, but then, believing themselves secure
from any Pursuit, began to slacken their Pace, and make the Journey more
delightful to _Camilla_ and _Fidelio_, who not being accustomed to ride
in that manner, wou’d never have been able to support it, if the strength
of their _Minds_, had not by far, exceeded that of their _Bodies_.

They had gone so much about, in seeking the By-roads, that they made it
three times as long before they arriv’d at _Avigno_, a small Village on
the Borders of _Italy_, as any, that had come the direct way wou’d have
done; but the Caution they had observ’d, was not altogether needless, as
they presently found.

A Gentleman who had been a particular Acquaintance of Monsieur
_Frankville_’s, overtook them at this Place, and after expressing
some Amazement to find ’em no farther on their Journey, told Monsieur
_Frankville_ he believ’d he cou’d inform him of some things which
had happen’d since his Departure, and cou’d not yet have reach’d his
Knowledge, which the other desiring him to do, the Gentleman began in
this manner.

It was no sooner Day, said he, than it was nois’d over all the City,
that Donna _Camilla_, Count _D’elmont_, and your self, had privately
left _Rome_; every Body spoke of it, according to their Humour; but
the Friends of _Ciamara_ and _Cittolini_ were outragious, a Complaint
was immediately made to the _Consistory_, and all imaginable Deligence
us’d, to overtake, or stop you, but you were so happy as to Escape, and
the Pursuers return’d without doing any thing of what they went about:
Tho’ _Cittolini_’s disappointment to all appearance, was the greatest,
yet _Ciamara_ bore it with the least Patience, and having vainly rag’d,
offer’d all the Treasure she was Mistress of, and perhaps spent the best
part of it in fruitless means to bring you back, at last she swallow’d
Poison, and in the raving agonies of Death, confess’d, that it was not
the loss of _Camilla_, but Count _D’elmont_ which was the Cause of her
Despair: Her Death gave a fresh occasion of Grief to _Cittolini_, but
the Day in which she was interr’d, brought him yet a nearer; he had sent
to his _Villa_ for his Daughter _Violetta_ to assist at the Funeral, and
the Messenger return’d with the surprizing Account of her not having
been there as she pretended she was, nothing was ever equal to the Rage,
the Grief, and the Amazement of this distracted Father, when after the
strictest Enquiry, and Search that cou’d be made, she was no where to be
found or heard of, it threw him into a Fever, of which he linger’d but a
small Time, and dy’d the same Day on which I left _Rome_.

The Gentleman who made this recital, was entirely a Stranger to any
of the Company but Monsieur _Frankville_, and they were retired into
a private Room during the time of their Conversation, which lasted
not long; _Frankville_, was impatient to communicate to Camilla and
_D’elmont_ what he had heard, and as soon as Civility wou’d permit, took
leave of the Gentleman.

The Count had too much Compassion in his Nature not to be extreamly
troubled when he was told this melancholly Catastrophe; but _Camilla_
said little; the ill usage of _Ciamara_, and the impudent, and
interested Pretensions of _Cittolini_ to her, kept her from being so
much _concern’d_ at their Misfortunes, as she wou’d have been at any
other Persons, and the generosity of her Temper, or some other Reason
which the Reader will not be ignorant of, hereafter, from expressing
any _Satisfaction_ in the Punishment they had met: But when the Count,
who most of all lamented _Violetta_, express’d his Astonishment and
Affliction, at her Elopement, she joyn’d with him in the Praises of that
young Lady, with an eagerness which testify’d, she had no part in the
Hatred she bore her Father.

While they were discoursing, _Camilla_ observ’d, that _Fidelio_ who was
all this while in the Room, grew very pale, and at last saw him drop
on the Ground, quite Senseless, she run to him, as did his Lord, and
Monsieur _Frankville_, and after, by throwing Water in his Face, they
brought him to himself again, he appear’d in such an Agony that they
fear’d his Fit wou’d return, and order’d him to be laid on a Bed, and
carefully attended.

After they had taken a short Repast, they began to think of setting
forward on their Journey, designing to reach _Piedmont_ that Night: The
Count went himself to the Chamber where his Page was laid, and finding
he was very ill, told him he thought it best for him to remain in that
Place, that he wou’d order Physicians to attend him, and that when he was
fully recover’d, he might follow them to _Paris_ with Safety. _Fidelio_
was ready to faint a second time at the hearing these Words, and with
the most earnest Conjurations, accompany’d with Tears, begg’d that he
might not be left behind: I can but die, said he, if I go with you, but
I am sure, that nothing if I stay can _save_ me: The Count seeing him so
pressing, sent for a _Litter_, but there was none to be got, and in spite
of what _Camilla_ or _Frankville_ cou’d say to diswade him, having his
Lord’s Leave, he ventured to attend him as he had done the former part of
the Journey.

They Travell’d at an easy rate, because of _Fidelio_’s Indisposition, and
it being later than they imagin’d, Night came upon ’em before they were
aware of it, Usher’d in, by one of the most dreadful Storms that ever
was; the Rain, the Hail; the Thunder, and the Lightning, was so Violent
that it oblig’d ’em to mend their Pace to get into some Place of shelter,
for there was no House near: But to make their Misfortune the greater,
they miss’d the Road, and rode considerably out of their way, before
they perceiv’d that they were wrong; the darkness of the Night, which
had no Illumination than, now and then, a horrid flash of Lightning,
the wildness of the Desart, which they had stray’d into, and the little
Hopes they had of being able to get out of it, at least till Day, were
sufficient to have struck Terror in the boldest Heart: _Camilla_ stood in
need of all her Love, to Protect her from the Fears which were beginning
to Assault her; but poor _Fidelio_ felt an inward Horror, which, by this
dreadful Scene encreas’d, made him appear wholly desparate: Wretch that I
am, cry’d he, ’tis for me the Tempest rises! I justly have incurr’d the
wrath of Heaven,---and you who are Innocent, by my accurs’d Presence are
drawn to share a Punishment only due to Crimes like Mine! In this manner
he exclaim’d wringing his Hands in bitter Anguish, and rather _Exposing_
his lovely Face to all the Fury of the Storm, than any way endeavouring
to _Defend_ it: His Lord, and the two generous Lovers, tho’ Harass’d
almost to Death themselves, said all they cou’d to comfort him; the Count
and Monsieur _Frankville_ consider’d his Words, rather as the Effects of
his Indisposition, and the fatigue he endur’d, than remorse for any Crime
he cou’d have been guilty of, and the pity they had for one so young and
innocent, made the cruelty of the Weather more insupportable to them.

At last, after long wandring, and the Tempest still encreasing, one
of the Servants, who was before, was happy enough to explore a Path,
and cry’d out to his Lord with a great deal of Joy, of the Discovery
he had made; they were all of Opinion that it must lead to some House,
because the Ground was beat down, as if with the Feet of Passengers, and
entirely free from Stubble, Stones and stumps of Trees, as the other part
of the Desart they come thro’ was Encumber’d with.

They had not rode very far before they discern’d Lights, the Reader may
imagine the Joy this Sight produc’d, and that they were not slow in
making their approach, Encourag’d by such a wish’d for Signal of Success:
When they came pretty near, they saw by the Number of Lights, which were
dispers’d in several Rooms distant from each other, that it was a very
large and magnificent House, and made no doubt, but that it was the
Country-Seat of some Person of great Quality: The wet Condition they
were in, made them almost asham’d of appearing, and they agreed not to
Discover who they were, if they found they were unknown.

They had no sooner knock’d, than the Gate was immediately open’d by
a Porter, who asking their Business, the Count told him they were
Gentlemen, who had been so Unfortunate to mistake the Road to _Piedmont_,
and desir’d the Owners leave for Refuge in his House, for that Night;
that is a Curtesy, said the Porter, which my Lord never refuses; and in
Confidence of his Assent, I may venture to desire you to alight, and
bid you welcome: They all accepted the Invitation, and were conducted
into a stately Hall, where they waited not long before the Marquess
_De Saguillier_, having been inform’d they appear’d like People of
Condition, came himself to confirm the Character his Servant had given
of his Hospitality. He was a Man perfectly well Bred, and in spite of
the Disadvantages their Fatigue had subjected them to, he saw something
in the Countenance of these Travellers, which commanded his Respect, and
engag’d him to receive them with a more than ordinary Civility.

Almost the first thing the Count desir’d, was, that his Page might be
taken care of; he was presently carry’d to Bed, and _Camilla_ (to whom
the Marquess made a thousand Apologies, that being a Batchellor, he cou’d
not Accommodate her, as he cou’d the Gentlemen) was show’d to a Chamber,
where some of the Maid Servants attended to put her on dry Cloaths.

They were splendidly Entertain’d that Night, and when Morning came,
and they were preparing to take Leave, the Marquess, who was strangely
Charm’d with their Conversation, Entreated them to stay two or three
Days with him, to recover themselves of the Fatigue they had suffer’d:
The Count’s impatience to be at _Paris_, to enquire after his Dear
_Melliora_, wou’d never have permitted him to consent, if he had not
been oblig’d to it, by being told, that _Fidelio_ was grown much worse,
and not in a Condition to Travel; _Frankville_ and _Camilla_ had said
nothing, because they wou’d not Oppose the _Count_’s Inclination, but
were extreamly glad of an Opportunity to rest a little longer, tho sorry
for the Occasion.

The Marquess omitted nothing that might make their Stay agreeable; but
tho’ he had a longing Inclination to know the Names, and Quality of
his Guests, he forbore to ask, since he found they were not free to
discover themselves: The Conversation between these accomplish’d Persons
was extreamly Entertaining, and _Camilla_, tho’ an _Italian_, spoke
_French_ well enough to make no inconsiderable part of it; the Themes of
their Discourse were various, but at last happning to mention Love, the
Marquess spoke of that Passion so feelingly, and express’d himself so
vigorously when he attempted to excuse any of those Errors, it leads its
Votaries into, that it was easy to Discover, he felt the Influence he
endeavour’d to represent.

Night came on again, _Fidelio_’s Distemper encreas’d to that degree,
that they all began to despair of his Recovery, at least they cou’d not
hope it for a long Time, if at all, and Count _D’elmont_ fretted beyond
measure at this unavoidable delay of the progress of his Journey to
that Place, where he thought there was only a possibility of hearing of
_Melliora_: As he was in Bed, forming a thousand various Idea’s, tho’ all
tending to one Object, he heard the Chamber Door unlock, and opening his
Curtains perceiv’d somebody come in; a Candle was burning in the next
Room, and gave Light enough at the opening the Door, to show it was a
Woman, but what Sort of one he cou’d not Discern, nor did he give himself
the trouble of asking who was there, believing it might be one of the
Servants come in to fetch something she wanted, ’till coming pretty near
the Bed, she cry’d twice in a low Voice, are you a Sleep, no, answer’d
he, a little surpriz’d at this Disturbance; what wou’d you have? I come
said she, to talk to you, and I hope you are more a _Chevalier_, than to
prefer a little Sleep, to the Conversation of a Lady, tho’ she Visits you
at Midnight: These words made _D’elmont_ believe he had met with a second
_Ciamara_, and lest he shou’d find the same Trouble with this as he had
done with the former, he resolv’d to put a stop to it at once, and with
an Accent as peevish as he cou’d turn his Voice to, the Conversation of
Ladies reply’d he, is a Happiness I neither Deserve, nor much Desire at
any Time, especially at this; therefore whoever you are, to oblige me,
you must leave me to the freedom of my Thoughts, which at present afford
me matter of Entertainment more suitable to my Humour than any thing
I can find here! Oh Heavens! Said the Lady, is this the Courtly, the
Accomplish’d Count _D’elmont_? So fam’d for Complaisance and Sweetness?
Can it be he, who thus rudely Repels a Lady, when she comes to make him
a Present of her Heart? The Count was very much amaz’d to find he was
known in a Place where he thought himself wholly a Stranger, I perceive,
answer’d he, with more Ill-humour if possible, than before, you are very
well acquainted with my Name, which I shall never deny (tho’ for some
Reasons I conceal’d it) but not at all with my Character, or you wou’d
know, I can esteem the Love of a Woman, only when ’tis _Granted_, and
think it little worth acceptance, _Proffer’d_. Oh unkind! Said she, but
perhaps the sight of me, may inspire you with Sentiments less Cruel: With
these Words she went hastily out of the Room to fetch the Candle she
had left within; and the Count was so much surpriz’d and vex’d at the
Immodesty and Imprudence he believ’d her Guilty of, that he thought he
cou’d not put a greater affront upon her, than her Behaviour deserv’d,
and turn’d himself with his Face the other way, designing to deny her
the satisfaction even of a look; she return’d immediately, and having
set down the Candle pretty near the Bed, came close to it her self, and
seeing how he was laid; this is unkind indeed, said she, ’tis but one
look I ask, and if you think me unworthy of another, I will for ever shun
your Eyes: The Voice in which these Words were deliver’d, for those she
spoke before were in a feign’d Accent, made the Heart-ravish’d _D’elmont_
turn to her indeed, with much more hast, than he had done to avoid her;
those Dear, those well-remember’d sounds infus’d an Extacy, which none
but _Melliora_’s cou’d create; he hear’d---he saw,---’twas she, that very
she, whose Loss he had so much deplor’d, and began almost to despair of
ever being able to Retrieve! Forgetting all Decorum, he flew out of the
Bed, catch’d her in his Arms, and almost stifl’d her with Kisses; which
she returning with pretty near an equal eagerness, you will not chide
me from you now she cry’d? Those who have Experienc’d any part of that
Transport, _D’elmont_ now was in, will know it was impossible for him to
give her any other Answer, than repeating his Caresses; Words were too
poor to Express what ’twas he felt, nor had he time to spare for Speech,
employ’d in a far dearer, softer Oratory, than all the force of Language
cou’d come up to!

But, when at last, to gaze upon her with more freedom, he releas’d her
from that strict Embrace he had held her in, and she blushing, with down
cast Eyes, began to reflect on the Effects of her unbounded passion, a
sudden pang seiz’d on his Soul, and trembling, and convuls’d between
extremity of _Joy_, and extremity of _Anguish_, I find thee _Melliora_,
cry’d he; but Oh, my Angel! Where is it thou art found?---in the House
of the young Amorous _Marquess D’Sanguillier!_ Cease, cease, interrupted
she, your causeless Fears,----where ever I am found, I am,----I can be
only yours.----And if you will return to Bed, I will Inform you, not
only what Accident brought me hither, but also every particular of my
Behaviour since I came.

These Words first put the Count in mind of the Indecency his Transport
had made him Guilty of, in being seen in that manner, and was going
hastily to throw on his Night Gown, when _Melliora_ perceiving his
Intent, and fearing he wou’d take cold, told him she wou’d not stay a
Moment, unless he granted her Request of returning to his Bed, which he,
after having made her sit down on the Side of it, at last consented to:
And contenting himself with taking one of her Hands, and pressing it
between his, close Prisoner in his Bosom, gave her Liberty to begin in
this Manner, the Discovery she had Promis’d.

After the sad Accident of _Alovysa_’s Death, said she, at my return
to the Monastry I found a new _Pensioner_ there; it was the young
_Madamoselle Charlotta D’Mezray_, who being lately left an Orphan, was
entrusted to the Care of our _Abbess_, being her near Relation ’till
her time of Mourning was expir’d, and she shou’d be married to this
Marquess _D’Sanguillier_, at whose House we are; they were Contracted
by their Parents in their Infancy, and nothing but the sudden Death
of her Mother, had put a stop to the Consummation of what, _then_,
they both wish’d with equal Ardour: But alas! Heaven which decreed the
little Beauty I am Mistress of, shou’d be pernicious to my own repose,
ordain’d it so, that this unfaithful Lover, seeing me one Day at the
_Grate_ with _Charlotta_, shou’d fancy he found something in _Me_ more
worthy of creating a Passion, than he had in her, and began to wish
himself releas’d from his Engagement with her, that he might have
Liberty to enter into another, which he imagin’d wou’d be more pleasing:
Neither she, nor I had the least suspicion of his Sentiments, and we
having commenc’d a very great Friendship, she wou’d for the most part,
desire me to partake in the Visits he made her: He still continu’d to
make the same protestations of Affection to her as ever; but if on any
occasion, she but turn’d her Head, or cast her Eyes another way, he wou’d
give me such looks, as, tho’ I then but little regarded, I have since
understood the meaning of, but too well; in this manner he proceeded
for some Weeks, ’till at last he came one Day extreamly out of Humour,
and told _Charlotta_ the occasion of it was, that he had heard she gave
Encouragement to some other Lover; she, amaz’d, as well she might, Avow’d
her Innocence, and endeavour’d to Undeceive him, but he, who resolv’d
not to be convinc’d, at least not to seem as if he was, pretended to be
more enrag’d at what he call’d weak Excuses; said, he was satisfy’d she
was more Guilty, even than he wou’d speak,----that he knew not if it
were consistent with his Honour, ever to see her more.---And in short,
behav’d himself in so unaccountable a manner, that there was no room to
Doubt that he was either the most _Impos’d_ on, or most _Base_ of Men:
It wou’d be endless for me to endeavour to represent poor _Charlotta_’s
affliction. So I shall only say, it was answerable to the Tenderness she
had for him, which, cou’d by nothing be exceeded, but by that, continu’d
she Sighing, and looking Languishingly on him, which contrary to all the
Resolutions I had made, brings _me_ to seek the Arms of my Enchanting
_D’elmont_, to rouze Remembrance of his former Passion! To strengthen my
Idea in his Heart! And Influence him a new with Love and Softness! This
kind Digression made the Count give Truce to his _Curiosity_, that he
might Indulge the Raptures of his _Love_, and raising himself in Bed, and
pressing her slender fine proportioned Body close to his, wou’d permit
her no otherwise, than in this Posture to continue her Discourse.

Several Days resum’d _Melliora_, were past, and we heard nothing of the
Marquess, all which, as he has since told me, were spent in fruitless
Projections to steal me from the Monastry; but at last, by the means of
a _Lay Sister_, he found means to convey a Letter to me; the Contents of
it, as near as I can remember, were these.

    [Illustration]

    _To the Divine_ MELLIORA.

    _’Tis not the falshood of CHARLOTTA, but the Charms of MELLIORA
    have produc’d this Change in my Behaviour, do not therefore,
    at the reading this, affect a surprize at Effects, which I
    am sure cannot be uncommon to such Excellence! Nor accuse an
    Inconstancy, which I rather esteem a Virtue than a Vice: To
    Change from you indeed wou’d be the highest Sin, as well as
    Stupidity: but to Change for you, is what all must, and ought
    to do, who boast a Capacity of distinguishing. I love you, Oh
    Divinest MELLIORA, I burn, I languish for you in unceasing
    Torments, and you wou’d find it impossible for you to condemn
    the boldness of this Declaration, if you cou’d be sensible of
    the Racks which force me to it, and which must shortly End me,
    if not happy enough to be receiv’d_

                               Your Lover,

                                                     D’SANGUILLIER.

’Tis impossible for me to express the Grief, and Vexation this Letter
gave me, but I forbore showing it to _Charlotta_, knowing how much it
would encrease her Anguish, and resolv’d when next I saw him, as I made
no doubt but I should quickly do, to use him in such a fashion, as in
spite of his Vanity, shou’d make him know I was not to be won in such
a manner; for I confess, my dear _D’elmont_, that his Timerity gave no
less a shock to my _Pride_, than his Infidelity to her I really lov’d,
did to my _Friendship_. The next Day I was told, a Gentleman enquir’d
for me, I presently imagin’d it was he, and went to the Grate, with a
Heart full of Indignation; I was not deceiv’d in my Conjecture, it was
indeed the Marquess, who appear’d on the other side, but with so much
Humility in his Eyes, and awful fear, for what he saw in Mine, as half
disarm’d my Anger for what concern’d my self, and had his Passion not
proceeded from his Inconstancy, I might have been drawn to _pity_ what
was not in my Power to Reward; but his base Usage of a Woman so deserving
as _Charlotta_, made me Express my self in Terms full of Disdain and
Detestation, and without allowing him to Reply, or make any Excuses,
pluck’d the Letter he had sent me out of my Pocket, with a design to
return it him, just at that Moment when a _Nun_ came hastily to call me
from the Grate: Some body had over-heard the beginning of what I said,
and had told the _Abbess_, who, tho’ she was not displeas’d at what she
heard of my Behaviour to him, yet she thought it improper for me to
hold any Discourse with a Man, who declar’d himself my Lover: I did
not, however, let her know who the Person was, fearing it might come to
_Charlotta_’s Ears, and encrease an Affliction, which was already too
violent: I was vext to miss the Opportunity of giving back his Letter,
but kept it still about me, not in the least Questioning, but that
boldness which had encourag’d him to make a discovery of his Desires,
wou’d again lead him to the Prosecution of them in the same manner, but
I was deceiv’d, his Passion prompted him to take other, as he believ’d,
more effectual Measures: One Day, at least a Fortnight after I had seen
the _Marquess_, as I was walking in the Garden with _Charlotta_, and
another young _Pensioner_, a Fellow who was imploy’d in taking away
Rubbish, told us there were some Statues carry’d by the Gate, which
open’d into the Fields, which were the greatest Master-pieces of Art that
had ever been seen: They are going, said he, to be plac’d in the _Seiur
Valiers_ Garden, if you step but out, you may get a Sight of them: We,
who little suspected any Deceit, run without Consideration, to satisfie
our Curiosity, but instead of the Statues we expected to see, four Living
Men disguis’d, muffl’d, and well Mounted, came Galloping up to us, and,
as it were surrounded us, before we had Time to get back to the Gate we
came out at: Three of them alighting, seiz’d me and my Companions, and I,
who was the destin’d Prey, was in a Moment thrown into the Arms of him
who was on Horseback, and who no sooner receiv’d me, than as if we had
been mounted on a _Pegasus_, we seem’d rather to _fly_ than _Ride_; in
vain I struggl’d, shriek’d, and cry’d to Heaven for help, my Prayers were
lost in Air, as quickly was my Speech, surprize, and rage, and dread,
o’rewhelm’d my sinking Spirits, and unable to sustain the Rapidity of
such violent Emotions, I fell into a Swoon, from which I recover’d not,
till was at the Door of some House, but where I yet am ignorant; the
first thing I saw, when I open’d my Eyes, was one of those Men who had
been Assistant in my carrying away, and was now about to lift me from
the Horse: I had not yet the power to Speak, but when I had, I vented
all the Passions of my Soul in terms full of Distraction and Despair: By
what means the People of the House were gain’d to my Ravishers Interest,
I know not, but they took little Notice of the Complaints I made, or my
Implorations for Succour: I had now, not the least shadow of a Hope,
that any thing but Death cou’d save me from Dishonour, and having vainly
Rag’d, I at last sate down meditating by what means I shou’d Compass that
only Relief from the worse Ruin which seem’d to threaten me: While my
Thoughts were thus employ’d, he who appear’d the chief of that insolent
Company, making a Sign that the rest shou’d withdraw, fell on his Knees
before me, and plucking off his Vizard, discover’d to me the Face of
the Marquess _D’Sanguillier_. Heavens! How did this Sight inflame me?
Mild as I am, by Nature, I that Moment was all Fury!----Till now I had
not the least Apprehension who he was, and believ’d ’twas rather my
_Fortune_ than my _Person_, which had prompted some daring Wretch to
take this Method to obtain it; but now, my Woes appear’d, if possible,
with greater Horror, and his Quality and Engagement with _Charlotta_
made the Act seem yet more Base. I blame you not, said he, Oh Divinest
_Melliora!_ The Presumption I am guilty of, is of so high a Nature, as
justly may deserve your utmost Rigour!-----I know, and confess my Crime;
Nay, hate my self for thus offending you.--But Oh? ’Tis unavoidable.---be
then, like Heaven, who when Injured most, takes most delight to pardon:
Crimes unrepented, answer’d I, can have no plea for Mercy, still to
persist, and still to ask forgiveness, is _Mocking_ of the Power we seem
to _Implore_, and but encreases Sin.----Release me from this Captivity,
which you have betray’d me into, Restore me to the Monastry----And for
the _future_, cease to shock my Ears with Tales of violated Faith,
detested Passion! Then, I perhaps, _may_ pardon what is _past_. His reply
to all this was very little to the Purpose, only I perceiv’d he was so
far from complying with my Request, or repenting what he had done, that
he resolv’d to proceed yet further, and one of his Associates coming
in, to tell him that his Chariot, which it seems he had order’d to meet
him there, was ready, he offer’d to take me by the Hand to lead me to
it, which I refusing, with an Air which testify’d the Indignation of my
Soul, Madam, said he, you are not here less in my Power, than you will
be in a Place, where I can Accommodate you in a manner more suitable to
your Quality, and the Adoration I have for you: If I were capable of a
base Design on you, what hinders but I now might perpetrate it? But be
assur’d, your Beauties are not of that kind, which inspire Sentiments
dishonourable; nor shall you ever find any other Treatment from me, than
what might become the humblest of your Slaves; my Love, fierce as it is,
shall know it’s Limits, and never dare to Breath an Accent less Chast
than your own Virgin Dreams, and Innocent as your Desires.

Tho’ the boldness he had been guilty of, and still persisted in, made
me give but little Credit to the latter part of his Speech, yet the
Beginning of it awak’d my Consideration to a reflection, that I cou’d not
indeed be any where in a greater danger of the Violence I fear’d, than
where I was; but on the contrary, it might so happen, that in leaving
that Place, I might possibly meet some Persons who might know me, or
at least be carry’d somewhere, whence I might with more likelihood,
make my Escape: In this last Hope, I went into the Chariot, and indeed,
to do him justice, neither in our Journey, nor since I came into his
House, has he ever violated the Promise he made me; nothing can be with
more Humility than his Addresses to me, never Visiting me without first
having obtain’d my leave! But to return to the particulars of my Story,
I had not been here many Days, before a Servant-Maid of the House, being
in my Chamber doing something about me, ask’d me if it were possible I
cou’d forget her; the Question surpriz’d me, but I was much more so,
when looking earnestly in her Face, which I had never done before, I
perfectly distinguish’d the Features of _Charlotta_: Oh Heavens! cry’d I,
_Charlotta_! The very same, said she, but I dare not stay now to unfold
the Mistery, lest any of the Family take Notice; at Night when I undress
you, you shall know the History of my Transformation.

Never any Day seem’d so long to me as that, and I feign’d my self
indispos’d, and rung my Bell for some body to come up, several Hours
before the time I us’d to go to Bed, _Charlotta_ guessing my impatience,
took care to be in the way, and as soon as she was with me, not staying
for my Requesting it of her, begun the Information she had promis’d, in
this manner.

You see, said she, forcing her self to put on a half smile, your unhappy
Rival follows to interrupt the Triumph of your Conquest; but I protest
to you, that if I thought you esteem’d my perjur’d Lover’s Heart an
offering worthy your Acceptance, I never wou’d have disturb’d your
happiness, and ’tis as much the Hopes of being able to be Instrumental
in serving you in your Releasment, as the prevention of that Blessing
the injurious _D’Sanguillier_ aims at, which has brought me here: Of all
the Persons that bewail’d your being carry’d away, I was the only one
who had any Guess at the Ravisher, nor had I been so wise, but that the
very Day on which it happen’d, you drop’d a Letter, which I took up,
and knowing it the _Marquess_’s Hand, made no scruple of Reading it. I
had no opportunity to upbraid you for the concealment of his falshood,
but the manner of your being seiz’d, convinc’d me you were Innocent of
favouring his Passion, and his Vizard flipping a little on one Side, as
he took you in his Arms, discover’d enough of that Face, I have so much
ador’d, for me to know who it was, that had took this Method to gain you:
I will not continu’d she, weeping, trouble you with any Recital of what
I endur’d from the Knowledge of my Misfortune, but you may judge it by
my Love, however, I bore up against the Oppressive weight, and resolv’d
to struggle with my Fate, even to the Last; I made an Excuse for leaving
the Monastry the next Day, without giving any suspicion of the Cause,
or letting any body into the Secret of the Marquess, and Disguis’d as
you see, found means to be receiv’d by the House-keeper, as a Servant, I
came here in three Days after you, and have had the opportunity of being
confirm’d by your Behaviour, of what I before believ’d, that you were far
from being an Assistant in his Design.

Here the sorrowful _Charlotta_ finish’d her little Account, and I
testify’d the Joy I felt in seeing her, by a thousand Embraces, and all
the Protestations of Eternal Friendship to her, that I could make: All
the times we had any opportunity of Talking to each other, were spent
in forming Schemes for my Escape, but none of them appear’d feasible;
however the very Contrivance was a kind of Pleasure to me, for tho’ I
began to banish all my Fears of the Marquess’s offering any violence
to my Virtue, yet I found his Passion wou’d not permit him to suffer
my Departure, and I was almost Distracted when I had no Hopes of being
in a Capacity of hearing from you, or writing to you: In this fashion,
my dearest _D’elmont_ have I liv’d, sometimes flattering my self with
vain Projects, sometimes desponding of being ever free: But last Night,
_Charlotta_ coming up, according to her Custom, told me in a kind of
Rapture, that you, and my Brother were in the House, she, it seems
knew you at _Paris_ while her Mother was yet Living, and to make her
entirely easy as to the Marquess, I had now made her the Confidant of
my Sentiments concerning you: I need not tell you the Extacy this News
gave me, you are too well acquainted with my Heart, not to be able to
conceive it more justly than Language can Express; but I cannot forbear
Informing you of one thing, of which you are ignorant, tho’ had Prudence
any share in this Love-directed Soul, I shou’d conceal it: My impatience
to behold you, was almost equal to my Joy to think you were so near,
and transported with my eager wishes, by _Charlotta_’s Assistance, I
last Night found the way into your Chamber: I saw you, Oh _D’elmont_! My
longing Eyes enjoy’d the satisfaction they so much desir’d, but yours
were clos’d, the Fatigue of your Journey had laid you fast a Sleep, so
fast, that even Fancy was unactive, and no kind Dream, alarm’d you with
one Thought of _Melliora_!

She cou’d not pronounce these last Words very Intelligibly, the greedy
Count devour’d ’em as she spoke, and tho’ Kisses had made many a
Parenthesis in her Discourse, yet he restrain’d himself as much as
possible, for the Pleasure of hearing her; but perceiving she was come to
a Period, he gave a loose to all the furious Transports of his ungovern’d
Passion: A while their Lips were Cemented! Rivetted together with Kisses,
such Kisses! As Collecting every Sence in one, exhale the very Soul, and
mingle Spirits! Breathless with bliss, then wou’d they pause and gaze,
then joyn again, with Ardour still encreasing, and Looks, and Sighs, and
straining Grasps were all the Eloquence that either cou’d make use of:
Fain wou’d he now have obtain’d the aim of all his Wishes, strongly he
press’d, and faintly she repuls’d: Dissolv’d in Love, and melting in his
Arms, at last she found no Words to form Denials, while he, all fire,
improv’d the lucky Moment, a thousand Liberties he took.----A thousand
Joys he reap’d, and had infallibly been possest of all, if _Charlotta_,
who seeing it broad Day, had not wonder’d at _Melliora_’s stay, and come
and knock’d at the Chamber Door, which not being fasten’d, gave way to
her Entrance, but she made not such hast, but that they had time enough
to Disengage themselves from that close Embrace they had held each other
in: Heavens! _Melliora_, cry’d the careful Interrupter, what mean you
by this stay, which may be so prejudicial to our Designs; the Marquess
is already stirring, and if he shou’d come into this Room, or send to
yours, what might be the Consequence: I come, I come, said _Melliora_,
alarm’d at what she heard, and rising from the Bed-side: Oh, you will
not, said the Count in a Whisper, and tenderly pressing her Hand, you
must not leave me thus! A few Hours hence, answer’d she aloud, I hope
to have the Power to own my self all yours, nor can the Scheme we have
laid fail of the Effects we wish, if no Discovery happens to Postpone it:
She was going with _Charlotta_ out of the Chamber, with these Words, but
remembring her self, she turn’d hastily back, let not my Brother, Resum’d
she, know my Weakness, and when you see me next, feign a surprize equal
to his own.

It is not to be suppos’d that after she was gone, _D’elmont_, tho’ kept
awake all Night, cou’d suffer any Sleep to enter his Eyes; excess of Joy
of all the Passions, hurries the Spirits most, and keeps ’em longest
busied: _Anger_ or _Grief_, rage violently at first, but quickly flag,
and sink at last into a Lethargy, but _Pleasure_ warms, exhillerates the
Soul, and every rapturous Thought infuses new Desires, new Life, and
added Vigour.

The Marquess _D’Sanguillier_ was no less happy in imagination than the
Count, and it was the force of that Passion which had rouz’d him so early
that Morning, and made him wait impatiently for his Guests coming out
of their Chambers, for he wou’d not disturb them: As soon as they were
all come into the Drawing-Room, I know not Messiures, said he, with a
Voice and Eyes wholly chang’d from those he wore the Day before, whether
you have ever Experienc’d the force of Love to that Degree that I have,
but I dare believe you have Generosity enough to rejoyce in the good
Fortune I am going to be possess’d of; and when I shall inform you how
I have long languish’d in a Passion, perhaps, the most extravagant that
ever was, you will confess the Justice of that God, who soon or late,
seldom suffers his faithful Votaries to miss their Reward: The Count
cou’d not force himself to a Reply to these Words, but _Frankville_ and
_Camilla_, who were entirely Ignorant of the Cause of them, heartily
Congratulated him. I am Confident, resum’d the Marquess, that Despair
has no Existance but in weak and timerous Minds, all Women may be won
by Force or Stratagem, and tho’ I had, almost, invincible Difficulties
to struggle with, Patience, Constancy, and a bold and artful Management
has at length surmounted them: Hopeless by Distant Courtship to obtain
the _Heart_ of my Adorable, I found means to make my self Master of her
_Person_, and by making no other use of the Power I had over her, than
humbly Sighing at her Feet, convinc’d her my Designs were far from being
Dishonourable; and last Night, looking on me, with more kindness than
she had ever done before: My Lord, said she, your Usage of me has been
too Noble, not to vanquish what ever Sentiments I may have been possest
with to your Prejudice, therefore since you have Company in the House,
who may be Witness of what I do, I think I cannot chuse a fitter time,
than this, to bestow my self, before them, on him who most Deserves me:
I will not now, continu’d he, delay the Confirmation of my Happiness so
long, as to go about to describe the Extacy I felt, for this so wish’d,
and so unhop’d a Condescension, but when, hereafter, you shall be told
the whole History of my Passion, you will be better able to conceive
it; the Marquess had scarce done speaking, when his Chaplain came into
the Room, saying, he believ’d it was the Hour his Lordship order’d him
to attend; it is! it is, cry’d the transported Marquess. Now my worthy
Guests you shall behold the lovely Author of my Joys; with these Words
he left them, but immediately return’d, leading the intended Bride:
Monsieur _Frankville_, tho’ he had not seen his Sister in some Years,
knew her at the first Glimpse, and the Surprize of meeting her----Meeting
her in so unexpected a manner was so great, that his Thoughts were
quite confounded with it, and he cou’d no otherwise Express it, than
by throwing his Eyes wildly, sometimes on her, sometimes on the Count,
and sometimes on the Marquess; the Count tho’ appris’d of this, felt a
Consternation for the Consequence little inferior to his, and both being
kept silent by their different Agitations, and the Marquess, by the
sudden Change, which he perceiv’d in their Countenances, _Melliora_ had
liberty to explain her self in this manner. I have kept my Word, my Lord,
said she to the Marquess, this Day shall give me to him who best deserves
me; but who that is, my Brother and Count _D’elmont_ must determine,
since Heaven has restor’d them to me, all Power of disposing of my self
must cease; ’tis they must, henceforth, rule the will of _Melliora_, and
only their consent can make me yours; all Endeavours wou’d be vain to
represent the Marquess’s confusion at this sudden Turn, and ’tis hard to
say whether his Astonishment, or Vexation was greatest; her Brother he
wou’d little have regarded, not doubting but his Quality, and the Riches
he was possest of, wou’d easily have gain’d his Compliance; but Count
_D’elmont_, tho’ he knew him not (having, for some disgust he receiv’d
at Court, been many Years absent from _Paris_,) yet he had heard much
talk of him; and the Passion he had for _Melliora_, by the Adventure
of _Alovysa_’s Death, had made too great a Noise in the World not to
have reach’d his Ears; he stood Speechless for some time, but when he
had a little recover’d himself, have you then Deceiv’d me, Madam, Said
he? No, answer’d she, I am still ready to perform my promise, whenever
these Gentlemen shall command me.----The one my Brother, the other my
Guardian, obtain but their Consent, and----Mine, he can never have,
Interrupted _Frankville_ hastily, and laying his Hand on his Sword. Nor
mine, cry’d the Count, while I have Breath to form Denials, or my Arm
strength to Guard my Beauteous Charge; hold Brother,----Hold, my Lord,
said _Melliora_, fearing their Fury wou’d produce some fatal Effects, the
_Marquess_ has been so truly Noble, that you rather ought to Thank, than
resent his Treatment of me, and tho’ I see Rage in _your_ Eyes, and all
the Stings of disappointment glowing fierce in _his_, yet I have Hopes, a
general Content may Crown the End.----Appear! Continu’d she, raising her
Voice, appear! Thou lovely faithful Maid! Come forth and Charm thy roving
Lovers Heart again to Constancy, to Peace, and thee! She had no sooner
spoke, then _Charlotta_ entred, drest like a Bride indeed, in a Suit of
Cloaths, which she had brought with her, in case any happy Opportunity
shou’d arise for her to discover herself: If the _Marquess_ was before
confounded, how much more so was he now? That injur’d Ladies Presence,
just at this juncture, and the Surprize by what means she came there,
made him utterly unable to resolve on any thing, which she observing,
and taking advantage of his Confusion, run to him, and catching hold
of his Hand; wonder not my Lord, said she, to see _Charlotta_ here,
nothing is impossible to Love like mine, tho’ slighted and abandon’d
by you, still I pursue your Steps with Truth, with Tenderness, and
Constancy untir’d!---Then, perceiving he still was silent, come, my
Lord, continu’d she, you must at last take Pity on my Sufferings, my
Rival, Charming as she is, wants a just sensibility of your Deserts,
and is by that, less worthy even than I; Oh, then remember, if not to
me, what ’tis you owe your self your own exhalted Merits, and you will
soon determine in my Favour, and confess that she, who knows you best,
ought most to have you; she spoke these Words in so moving an Accent,
and they were accompany’d with so many Tears, that the most rocky Heart
must have relented, and that the Marquess was sensibly touch’d with ’em,
his Countenance Testify’d, when sighing, and turning his Head a little
away, not with disdain, but Remorse, for the Infidelity he had been
guilty of: Oh, cease, said he, this Flood of Softness, it gives me Pains
I never felt before, for ’tis impossible you can forgive---Oh Heaven!
cry’d the transported _Charlotta_, all you have done, or ever can do of
Unkindness, is by one tender Word made full amends for; see at your Feet,
(continued she, falling on her Knees) thus in this humble Posture, which
best becomes my prostrate Soul, I beg you to accept the Pardon which I
bring, to banish from your Mind all Thoughts that you have injured me,
and leave it free from all the generous Joys, the making others happy,
must create: This Action of _Charlotta_’s, join’d to the Reflection, how
strangely every Thing happen’d to prevent his Designs on the other, won
him entirely, and raising her with a tender Embrace, put it out of her
Power to regret his ever being False, since his Return gave her a Taste
of Joys, which are not, but in Reconciliation to be found.

The Count, Monsieur _Frankville_, and the two Ladies who had waited all
this while in an impatient Expectation for the end of this Affair, now
paid their several Congratulations, all highly applauding the Constancy
of _Charlotta_, and the timely Repentance of the Marquess: These
Ceremonies being over, the Marquess desir’d _Charlotta_ to acquaint him
by what means she had gain’d Admittance to his House unknown to him;
which Curiosity she immediately satisfying, engag’d a new, the Praises of
the whole Company, and more endear’d herself to her belov’d Marquess’s
Affections.

Tranquility now reign’d in those Hearts, which lately heav’d with various
and disturb’d Emotions, and Joy sate smiling upon every Cheek, entirely
happy in their several Wishes: They could now talk of past Woes with
Pleasure, and began to enter into a very delightful Conversation, when
_Frankville_ on a sudden missing _Camilla_, and asking for her, one of
the Servants told him she was gone to the Sick Page’s Chamber, this News
gave him some little alarm, and the rather, because he had observ’d she
expressed a more than ordinary Tenderness and Care for this Page, all
the Time of their Journey; he ran immediately to the Room where he heard
she was, and found her lying on the Bed, with her Arms round _Fidelio_’s
Neck, and her Face close to his; this shocking Sight had certainly
driven the Rashness of his Temper to commit some Deed of Horror, if the
Amazement he was in had not prevented it; he drew his Sword half out, but
then, as if some Spell had charm’d his Arm, remain’d in that Posture,
fix’d and motionless as Marble: _Camilla_ half blinded with the Tears
which fell from her Eyes, saw not the Confusion he was in, nor considered
the seeming Reason he had to be so, but raising her Head a little to see
who it was that came into the Chamber, Oh _Frankville_! said she, see
here the Ruins of Love, behold the Tyranny of that fatal Passion in this
expiring Fair! But haste, contin’d she, finding him ready to faint, let
Count _D’elmont_ know, the faithful, generous _Violetta_! Dies---she dies
for him, and asks no other Recompence, than a last Farewell--_Violetta_!
interrupted _Frankville_, what means _Camilla_? This, this is _Violetta_,
resum’d she, who like a Page disguis’d, has followed the too lovely
Count, and lost herself: The Rage which at his first Entrance had possest
the Heart of _Frankville_, now gave Way to Grief, and coming near the
Bed, he began to testify it, by all the Marks which an unfeign’d Concern
cou’d give; but this unfortunate Languisher, finding her Strength decay,
prevented him from making any long Speeches, by renewing that Request
which _Camilla_ had already made known, of seeing her dear Lord before
she dy’d, which _Frankville_ making haste to fulfil, she call’d to him
as loud as her Weakness would permit to come back, and as soon as he
was, _Camilla_, said she, has inform’d me of my Lord’s good Fortune in
meeting with the Charmer of his Soul, I would not deprive him of a
Moments Happiness. I therefore beg she’d give a dying Rival, leave to
wish her Joy, and as neither my Death, nor the Cause of it can be a
Secret to any of the Company here, I desire they all may be Witnesses,
with what Pleasure I welcome it; _Frankville_, Fiery as he was, had a
vast deal of Compassion in his Nature, and could not see so beautiful a
young Lady, and one whom he had so many Obligations to, on the Account
of his Affair with _Camilla_, in this despairing and dying Condition,
without being seiz’d with an Anguish inexpressible; but all the Pangs
he felt were nothing when compar’d to those he gave _D’elmont_ in the
Delivery of her Message; he ran into the Room like a Man distracted,
and in the Hurry of his Grief forgot even the Complaisance he ow’d
to _Melliora_, but she was too generous to disapprove his Concern,
immediately followed with her Brother, the Marquess and _Charlotta_:
What is it that I hear Madam, cry’d the Count, throwing himself on the
Bed by her? Can it be possible that the admir’d _Violetta_ cou’d forsake
her Father,---Country,---Friends,---forego her Sexes Pride,---the Pomp
of Beauty,---gay Dresses, and all the Equipage of State and Grandeur;
to follow in a mean Disguise, a Man unworthy her Thoughts? Oh! no more,
said she, weeping, you are but too, too worthy Adoration; nor do I yet
believe my Love a Crime, tho’ the Consequence is so: I might in _Rome_,
with Honour and Innocence have died, but by my shameful Flight, I was the
Murderer of my Father---that---that’s a Guilt, which all these Floods of
Penitence can never wash away---Yet, bear me Witness Heaven, how little
I suspected the sad Event, when first, unable to support your Absence,
I contriv’d this Way, unknown, to keep for ever in your Sight; I lov’d,
’tis true, but if one unchaste Wish, or an impure Desire e’er stain’d my
Soul, then may the purging Fire to which I am going, miss its Effect,
my Spots remain, and not one Saint vouchsafe to own me: Here the Force
of her Passion, agitating her Spirits with too much Violence for the
Weakness of her Body, she sunk fainting in the Bed: And tho’ the Count
and _Camilla_ felt the most deeply her Afflictions, the one because they
proceeded from her Love to him, and the other as having long been her
Friend, and Partner of her Secrets, yet those in the Company who were
most Strangers to her, participated in her Sufferings, and commiserated
the Woes they could not heal; and as soon as she recovered from her
Swoon, the generous _Melliora_ (not in the least possest with any of
those little Jealousies, which Women of narrow Souls harbour on such
Occasions) came nearer to the Bed, and taking her kindly by the Hand,
Live and be comforted, said she, a Love so innocent shall never give me
any Disquiet.---Live and Enjoy the Friendship of my Lord, and if you
please to favour me with yours, I shall esteem it as it deserves, a
Blessing. No Madam, answered the now almost Expiring _Violetta_, Life,
after this shameful Declaration, wou’d be the worst of Punishments, but,
not to be Ungrateful to so generous an Offer, for a few Moments I accept
it, and like Children, placing their darling Play things on their Pillow,
and then contented to go to Sleep, so I would keep your Lord, would view
him still while I awake to Life, then drop insensibly into a Slumber of
eternal Peace. This mournful Tenderness pierc’d _D’elmont_, to the very
Soul, and putting his Arm gently under her Head, which, he perceiv’d she
was too weak to raise when she endeavoured it, and laying his Face on one
of her Hands, cou’d not forbear washing it in Tears, she felt the cordial
Drops, and, as if they gave her a new Vigour, exerting her Voice to the
utmost of her Strength; this is too kind, said she, I now can feel none
of those Agonies which render Death the King of Terrors, and thus, thus
happy in your Sight,------your Touch------your tender Pity, I can but be
Translated from one Heaven to another, and yet, forgive me Heaven, if it
be a Sin, I cou’d wish, methinks, to know no other Paradise than you,
to be permitted to hover round you, to Form your Dreams, to sit upon
your Lips all Day, to mingle with your Breath, and glide in unfelt Air
into your Bosom: She wou’d have proceeded, but her Voice faultered in the
Accent, and all she spoke distinguishable was, Oh _D’elmont_! receive in
this one Sigh, my latest Breath-----it was indeed her last, she died that
Moment, died in his Arms, whom more than Life she priz’d, and sure there
are none who have liv’d in the Anxieties of Love, who wou’d not envy such
a Death!

There was not in this noble Company, one whose Eyes were dry, but Count
_D’elmont_ was for some Time inconsolable, even by _Melliora_; he forbore
the celebrating of his so eagerly desired Nuptials, as did the Marquess
and Monsieur _Frankville_ theirs, in Complaisance to him, ’till after
_Violetta_ was interr’d, which the Count took Care should be in a Manner
becoming her Quality, her Merit, and the Esteem he profess’d to have born
her: But when this melancholly Scene was past, a Day of Joy succeeded,
and one happy Hour confirm’d the Wishes of the three longing Bridegrooms;
the Weddings were all kept in a splendid Manner at the Marquess’s, and
it was not with out a great deal of Reluctance, that he and _Charlotta_
suffered the Count, Monsieur _Frankville_, and their Ladies to take
leave of them. When they came to _Paris_, they were joyfully received by
the Chevalier _Brillian_ and _Ansellina_, and those, who in the Count’s
Absence had taken a Liberty of censuring and condemning his Actions, aw’d
by his Presence, and in Time, won by his Virtues, now swell his Praises
with an equal Vehemence: Both he and _Frankville_ are still living, blest
with a numerous and hopeful Issue, and continue with their fair Wives,
great and lovely Examples of conjugal Affection.

_FINIS._




[Illustration]




BOOKS Printed for, and Sold by D. BROWNE, without _Temple-Bar_


1. A Collection of Poems on various Subjects. By Sir _Richard Blackmore_,
Kt. M. D. Fellow of the Royal Colledge of Physicians.

2. The Art of _English_ Poetry. Containing, 1st, Rules for making Verses.
2d, A Collection of the most natural, agreeable, and sublime Thoughts,
_viz._ Allusions, Similies, Descriptions and Characters of Poems and
Things that are to be found in the best _English_ Poets. 3d, A Dictionary
of Rhymes. By _Edward Byshe_, Gent. The 6th Edition Corrected and
Enlarged, in 2 Vol. 120.

3. A Collection of Poems, _viz._ The Temple of Death, by the Marquis of
_Normandy_, an Epistle to the Earl of _Dorset_: By _Charles Mountague_,
Lord _Halifax_; the Duel of the Stags by Sir _Robert Howard_. With
several Original Poems never before Printed; By the Earl of _Roscommon_,
the Earl of _Rochester_, the Earl of _Orrery_, the Lord _Lansdowne_, Sir
_Charles Lesley_, Sir _George Etheredge_, Mr. _Stepney_, Mr. _Dryden_,
&c.

4. The Dramatick and Poetical Works of _Nicholas Rowe_, Esq; late Poet
Laureat; Containing all his Plays and Poems, in three neat Pocket
Volumes, with Cutts.

5. The Works of Mr. _John Oldham_, together with his Remains, in 2 Vol.
in 120. To this Edition are added, Memoirs of his Life and explanatory
Notes upon some obscure Passages of his Writings, adorn’d with Cutts.
Price 6 _s._

6. The Poetical Works of _Samiel Daniel_, Author of the _English_
History. To which is prefix’d Memoirs of his Life and Writing, in 2 Vol.
120.

7. Poems by the Earl of _Roscommon_, to which is added an Essay on Poetry
by the Earl of _Mulgrave_, now Duke of _Buckingham_, together with Poems.
By Mr. _Rich. Duke_.

8. Letters of Gallantry. By M. de _Fontenelle_; translated into
_English_. By Mr. _Ozell_.

9. The Lover and Reader. By Sir _Richard Steele_. The Second Edition.


BOOKS Printed for _W. Chetwood_.

1. The Voyages, Travels, and dangerous Adventures of Capt. _Richard
Falconer_. Containing the Laws, Customs and Manners of the _Indians_,
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on the Island of _Dominica_, where to save his Life, he was obliged to
Marry an _Indian_ Wife; his narrow Escape from thence after his Wife was
Kill’d; Intermix’d with the Voyages of _Thomas Randal_, a West _Indian_
Pilot, his being cast away in the _Baltick_, &c., being the only Man
sav’d upon an uninhabited Island, _&c._ With a curious Frontispiece Bound
5 _s._

2. The Seige of _Damascus_: A Tragedy. By the late Mr. _Hughes_.

3. Spartan Dame, a Tragedy, by Mr. _Southern_. Price 1 _s._ 6 _d._

4. Ximena, or the Heroick Daughter, Written by Mr. _Cibber_, Dedicated to
Sir _Richard Steele_. 1 _s._ 6 _d._

5. Bond-man, or Love and Liberty, a Tragedy, 1 _s._ 6 _d._

6. Earl of _Warwick_, or the British Exile, a Tragedy. 1 _s._ 6 _d._

7. Love in a Veil, a Comedy, by Mr. Savage. 1 _s._ 6 _d._

8. Traytor, a Tragedy. 1 _s._ 6 _d._

9. Two Harlequins in _French_ and _English_, a Comedy. 1 _s._ 6 _d._

10. Fair of St. Germains, a Comedy. 1 _s._

11. Antiochus and Stratonice, a Novel, by Mr. _Theobald_. Bound 2 _s._

12. _Crawford_’s Novels Compleat, Bound 2 _s._ 6 _d._

13. Orpheus and Eurydice, by Mr. _Weaver_. 1 _s._

14. The Chevalier de St. _George_, a Heroick-comical Poem. 1 _s._

15. Cynegetica, or the Force and Pleasure of Hunting, by Mr. _Morgan_. 1
_s._

16. Richard the Third, a Tragedy, by Mr. _Cibber_. 1 _s._

17. Distress’d Mother by Mr. _Ambrose Philips_. 1 _s._

18. Sir Walter Raleigh by Mr. _Sewel_. 1 _s._ 6 _d._

19. Jane Shore, a Tragedy, by Mr. _Rowe_. 1 _s._ 6 _d._

20, Jane Gray by the same Author. 1 _s._

21. The Spaniard, or don Zara del Fogo, a Novel. 1 _s._ 6 _d._

22. Amorous Widow, or the wanton Wife. 1 _s._

23. The most entertaining History of _Hyppolito_ and _Aminta_, being a
Collection of delightful Novels. Price Bound 2 _s._ 6 _d._

24. The Pastoral Amours of Daphnis and Chloe, with Cutts curiously
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25. _Steel_’s Christian Heroe. 1 _s._

26. Amours and Letters of Abelard and Heloise. 1 _s._ 6 _d._

27. _Etheridge_’s Plays Compleat or Single.

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29. Letters of Love and Gallantry, in 2 Vol. with Cutts. 5 _s._


BOOKS Printed for _S. Chapman_.

1. Fables and Dialogues of the Dead; Written in _French_ by the late
Archbishop of _Cambray_, Author of _Telemachus_, and done into _English_
from the _Paris_ Edition of 1718. Then Corrected and Revised, with the
Authors own Original Manuscript.

    ------_De Te_
    _Fabula Narratur_.-----

2. _Roma Illustrata_, or a Description of the most beautiful pieces of
Painting, Sculpture and Architecture, Antique and Modern, at and near
_Rome_.

3. The fair _Circassian_, a Dramatick Performance; Done from the Original
by a Gentleman Commoner of _Oxford_,---_Sine me, liber, ibis in urbem_.
Ovid. The Second Edition corrected: To which are added, the following
Poems by the same Author.

The _Midsummer_ Wish. _Sylvia_ to _Sylvia_. Heathen Priestcraft. The
naked Truth. On _Florida_, seen while she was Bathing.

4. The pastoral Amours of _Daphnis_ and _Chloe_; Translated from the
_Greek of Longus_, with nine curious Cutts.

5. _Plautus_, three Comedies; Translated by Mr. _Echard_.

6. The Spartan Dame by Mr. _Southern_, the Fifth Edition; to which is
added above 400 Lines left out in the Representation. The 1st Edition.

7. _Sophonisba_; or _Hannibal_’s Overthrow. A Tragedy; by Mr. _N. Lee_.

8. The Country Wit, or Sir Mannerly Shallow, a Comedy; by Mr. _Crown_.

9. Don _Carlos_, a Tragedy. _Venice_ preserv’d, a Tragedy; the Orphan, or
the unhappy Marriage, a Tragedy. By Mr. _Otway_.

10. The Ninth, Tenth, Eleventh and Twelfth Parts of the _Arabian_ Nights
Entertainment, in 2 Vol. in 12ᵒ. never before Translated into _English_.

11. Sir _Walter Rawleigh_, a Tragedy: By Mr. _Sewell_.

12. _Les Deux_ Harlequins, a Comedy in _French_ and _English_, being one
of the most admir’d of the _French_ Plays, and Recommended by the most
Eminent Masters of _London_, for the use of those who desire to attain to
the perfection of the _French_ Language.

_With all Sorts of Plays, Novels_, &c.

_FINIS._