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<DATE>2014-07-22</DATE>
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<NAME>Renee Mayes</NAME>
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<FRONT>
<DIV1 TYPE="title page">
<PB REF="1" MS="y">
<P>THE GALANTS Or the Reciprocal <HI>Confidents,</HI> A NOVEL.</P>
<P><HI>Tran&s;lated out of French by a Per&s;on of Quality.</HI></P>
<P><HI>LONDON:</HI> Printed for <HI>Jo&s;eph Knight</HI> and <HI>Francis Saunders,</HI> at the <HI>Blew Anchor</HI> in the <HI>New-Exchange</HI> MDCLXXXV.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="to the reader">
<PB REF="2">
<PB REF="2">
<HEAD>THE FRENCH Book&s;eller TO THE READER.</HEAD>
<P>THat which has given the the Title to this Book was not a Confidence of imagi|nary accidents: It has been effectually perform'd, and the Ladies, who&s;e adventures you here find; have made too much noi&s;e in the World by their mi&s;|fortunes, to remain unknown. From one of them 'tis that the Memoirs of the Actions of their Lives was taken: They
<PB REF="3">have been faithfully follow'd; and the Author, who has only endeavoured to put 'em in order, thought he &s;hould have &s;poil'd a piece of &s;uch Variety as this is, if he had added any thing of his own. They are acti|ons upon actions related in few words, and without any mix|ture of tho&s;e &s;tudied Conver&s;a|tions, that Embelli&s;h Stories invented only for the Readers plea&s;ure. Tho&s;e who doubt of the truth of 'em, may with lit|tle pains be freed from their &s;u&s;picions, have they but never &s;o little Curio&s;ity to inform them&s;elves of what has pa&s;s'd in the World a few Years &s;ince.</P>
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<DIV1 TYPE="text">
<PB REF="3">
<HEAD>THE Reciprocal Confidents A NOVEL.</HEAD>
<DIV2 TYPE="introduction">
<P>THe Garden of the <HI>Tuille|ries</HI> had not long been fi|ni&s;h'd, before the Counte&s;s of <HI>Marignan</HI> had a de&s;ire to take the Air there. After &s;he had taken &s;ome few turns &s;he re&s;ted her &s;elf upon a Seat, where &s;he found a Woman, who&s;e face &s;eem'd not to be unknown to her; notwith&s;tand|ing the Idea &s;he had con&s;erv'd of it, &s;he could not agree with her &s;elf whom it &s;hould be; neverthele&s;s af|ter &s;he had conde&s;ir'd a long time,
<PB N="2" REF="4">the Lady who for her part look't very attentively upon the Counte&s;s of <HI>Marignan,</HI> they knew one the o|ther, and made all the Endearments that could pa&s;s betwixt two Per|&s;ons who had extreamly lov'd, and had the plea&s;ure to meet after a long ab&s;ence. The&s;e two Ladies were &s;trict|ly engag'd together before they were Marryed; and had often talk'd un|der the Names of <HI>Iris</HI> and <HI>Climene:</HI> 'Twas for this rea&s;on that the Coun|te&s;s beginning; cry'd ah my dear <HI>Iris!</HI> what joy have I to &s;ee you? and how mu&s;t I complain of you at the &s;ame time for expecting, till chance has taken care to bring us together? my misfortunes have been &s;o great an&s;wer'd <HI>Iris,</HI> that they have left me no Friend free from Calumny, and Strangene&s;s; &s;o that, Madam, I dur&s;t not flatter my &s;elf, that you would be favoura|ble to me, when all the World did me &s;o much Inju&s;tice. I always
<PB N="3" REF="4">thought, replyed the Counte&s;s, that your Enemies had a greater &s;hare than you, in the reports that were &s;pread abroad of your Conduct: Madam, an&s;wered <HI>Iris,</HI> I never yet &s;in'd e&s;&s;entially again&s;t true Glory; but I ought to confe&s;s to you, I have often hazarded the ap|pearance; the &s;ame A&s;cendant that di&s;pos'd the Men to have &s;ome good wi&s;hes for me, made me rejoyce to be belov'd by 'em: I mu&s;t confe&s;s to you al&s;o, that I forgot nothing that might plea&s;e 'em; and that the de&s;ire of making them in Love, was the whole application of my Life. A crow'd of Adorers appear'd to me, the chiefe&s;t good, and I knew no Merit but that of being Environ'd by 'em. I was that in fine, Madam, which they call a perfect Coquette. This is the Cha|racter reply'd the Counte&s;s of <HI>Ma|rignan,</HI> of all Women that are hand|&s;ome enough to de&s;erve it; the
<PB N="4" REF="5">younge&s;t and mo&s;t amiable, are of|ten the lea&s;t guilty; their Vanity is more general, to make Lovers is their only de&s;ign; and their con|que&s;t follow each other &s;o clo&s;e, that they have not the time to make a &s;incere application; they that have more Years and fewer Charms, almo&s;t always engage them&s;elves under the appearance of a Counter|&s;it pa&s;&s;ion, and often drive the ad|venture to a Crime. It is always dangerous, an&s;wered <HI>Iris,</HI> to fol|low this inclination; for it &s;eldome happens but the di&s;order of the heart is the occa&s;ion of it in the Conduct, and thereby are cau&s;ed an infinite number of misfortunes. Then, &s;aid the Counte&s;s, I would willingly have you tell me what has happen'd to you, for I have had an imperfect relation only of it; what we have not from the fir&s;t hand, is never truly known. I can &s;tay in this garden as long as I
<PB N="5" REF="5">will; I have no Engagement from any body to be gon &s;o &s;oon. I there|fore, conjure you to make me a con|fident to your adventures; I ask it with an intention to di&s;cover mine to you; upon the&s;e conditions <HI>Iris</HI> could not defend her &s;elf from Satisfying the Curio&s;ity of the Counte&s;s, and thus &s;he began her recital.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="story">
<PB N="6" REF="6">
<HEAD>The Relation of <HI>IRIS</HI></HEAD>
<P>Yow know, Madam, in what con|&s;traint my Mother brought me up, and how hardly &s;he gave me the liberty to improve the Friend&s;hip you had for me; and it is al&s;o true that after you was married and your husband had carried you into <HI>Provence,</HI> I had then no commerce with the World, the tire&s;ome life I led made me imagine there was a great deal of plea&s;ure in being no longer &s;ubject to my Mothers vexatious reprimands, and to com|mands &s;o oppo&s;ite to my inclinati|ons: I fooli&s;hly thought that when I was married I &s;hould be Mi&s;tre&s;s of my actions which made me accept of the fir&s;t propo&s;ition of a Husband, my Mother made me, and with|out examining whether my heart con&s;ented to the choice of my Fa|mily, I marry'd the Vi&s;count
<PB N="7" REF="6"><HI>De</HI>&mdash; In the mean time my Mo|ther, who would have her &s;everity follow me every where, gave Le&s;|&s;ons to my Husband about what he &s;hould defend me from, or pre&s;cribe me; there are few but approve of the&s;e kind of Maxims: So that in few days after our Marriage, he made me know his intentions, which appear'd to me very different from what I had propos'd to my &s;elf; my vi&s;its were limited either to my Family, or to &s;ome devout Friends of my Mothers; the hours were a&s;&s;ign'd me, I was to employ in Piety, but none were left me for plea&s;ure.</P>
<P>Admire, Madam, if you plea&s;e how &s;trangely things will happen; my Husband told me one day that the Pre&s;ident of &mdash;<HI>'s</HI> Lady had ask'd him how I did, de&s;iring him that he would &s;uffer me to make her a <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters">&s;it. She pa&s;s'd in the World <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">o<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> a Woman of a trouble|&s;ome
<PB N="8" REF="7">Vertue; and as this character was not much to my likeing. I had no great de&s;ire to goe &s;ee her, but it was ordered me &s;o preci&s;ely that I was forc't to obey. I had form'd to my &s;elf &s;o di&s;agreeable an Idea of her, that I &s;hould &s;carcely have de|&s;troy'd, if I had not found in that hou&s;e a great re&s;ort of Company, and a very free Conver&s;ation. The Pre&s;idents Lady receiv'd me with a thou&s;ands welcomes, gave me a great many prai&s;es, and told me in the mo&s;t obliging manner in the World &s;he would have me be one of her Friends, and vi&s;it her often. Her Husband look't extreamly upon me, and as I was ju&s;t di&s;po&s;ing my &s;elf to be gone, the Prince <HI>de</HI>&mdash; and the Duke <HI>de</HI>&mdash;came in, the fir&s;t propos'd to the Pre&s;idents Lady to go &s;ee a general review of the Kings Hou&s;ehold, that was that day made at <HI>Vincennes;</HI> at fir&s;t &s;he made &s;ome difficulty, but at la&s;t
<PB N="9" REF="7">con&s;ented, upon condition I would be of the Company, we went into his Coach, for the Duke had his rea&s;ons to be in another, the Pre|&s;ident had a Meen Grave, and Se|rious, and a con&s;traint in all his actions, that was not to my reli&s;h, not that you could &s;ay he wanted witt; but his way appear'd to me &s;o contrary to tho&s;e of the Court that were at his hou&s;e, that altho' I had no experience in the World, I fail'd not to make a great diffe|rence betwixt 'em. I mu&s;t confe&s;s to you al&s;o, Madam, ever &s;ince that fir&s;t vi&s;it I thought the Prince very aimable; he had a free Air, lively Witt, he made delightful thoughts of things, and expre&s;s'd 'em with Ju&s;tice; I remark'd too that I did not di&s;plea&s;e him, and he often took the opportunity to &s;ay very oblige|ing things to me I was very well &s;a|tisfied with the journey, becau&s;e I never had made any &s;o agreeably;
<PB N="10" REF="8">but when I was alone with my Hus|band, (my mind wholy taken up with the thoughts of the Prince) the Idea I pre&s;erv'd of him in de&s;pite of my &s;elf, rendered his pre&s;ence more trouble&s;ome to me than it had hitherto been.</P>
<P>The inclinations I had for the Prince made me proceed far in a little time; it was impo&s;&s;ible for me to re&s;i&s;t the Temptations that made me love him, and I believe the pa&s;&s;i|on he had for me was very in&s;tru|mental to my having one for him. One day the Pre&s;idents Lady de&s;i|red me to go to &s;up at her hou&s;e, and not doubting but the Prince would be there, I &s;par'd no care to dre&s;s my &s;elf, I knew that black Patches gave a little agreement to young People; but I was not igno|rant al&s;o that my Husband would not &s;uffer me to wear 'em; I carri|ed a few in a little Box, and I plac't 'em by the light of the Flambeau,
<PB N="11" REF="8">that lighted my Coach; I found the Prince ju&s;t arriv'd at the Pre&s;i|dents as I came. I am extreamly Fortunate Madam, &s;ays he, as he help'd me out of my Coach, to hap|pen here at a time I can render you a little Service, till an occa&s;ion ar|rives of giving you greater &s;igns of the Pa&s;&s;ion I have for you; I do not remember what I an&s;wer'd for I was young, and without ex|perience; but I know very well I an&s;wer'd him like a true Innocent, and that this Declaration rais'd a great trouble in my heart. He has told me &s;ince, that he was not at all angry at that di&s;order, and that my &s;implicity pleas'd him more than <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters"> I had an&s;wer'd with more Art. The Pre&s;ident made me take notice that the &s;ight of me gave him a great deal of joy, and that he de&s;ir'd a particular conver&s;ation with me; in fine, Madam in le&s;s than an hour, I found my &s;elf in a
<PB N="12" REF="9">nece&s;&s;ity to harken to another De|claration of Love, to which I made no better an&s;wer than to the fir&s;t, although it was for different rea|&s;ons; for if the inclination I had for the Prince, made me &s;peechle&s;s, the indifference I had, for the Pre&s;ident did not in&s;pire me with any thing to an&s;wer him. After Supper followed a Con&s;ort of Voi|ces and Mu&s;ick, which did not la&s;t long, becau&s;e there was &s;ome Women there who lov'd play; you know, Madam, they who have a Pa&s;&s;ion for that, are in&s;en&s;ible to all other Diverti&s;ements. The Pre&s;i|dent, &s;eeing I did not play, told me he would take care of my plea&s;ure, if I would do the like for his; and to give me &s;ome conformable to my inclination, he commanded the Violins &s;hould be &s;ent for; I then &s;ound my &s;elf in a tickli&s;h conjun|cture, for a young Woman &s;o little in&s;tructed in the Commerce of Love,
<PB N="13" REF="9">for the Prince and the Pre&s;ident be|&s;eig'd me by turns, when the fir&s;t took me out to dance, the other told me that Courtiers knew not how to Love, and that they were more &s;en&s;ible of the plea&s;ure of ru|ening a Womans reputation, than of the favours they might receive from 'em. This truth did not hin|der me from loving the Prince; this Le&s;&s;on on the contrary augmented the aver&s;ion I had for him that gave it; I continued to &s;ee the Pre&s;idents Lady with great a&s;&s;iduity; my Hus|band was very glad of it, and de|&s;ir'd that I would make all my acti|ons conformable to tho&s;e of &s;o Vir|tuous a Lady, the&s;e were the terms he us'd to make me know his plea|&s;ure; I &s;aw the Prince almo&s;t every day at her hou&s;e, but as yet, it was not with liberty enough to enter|tain our &s;elves with the thoughts we had for each other; he took a de&s;ign to write me his, and gave
<PB N="14" REF="10">me this Letter one day as I was at the Pre&s;idents.</P>
<LETTER LANG="eng">
<P><HI>SHall I never &s;ee you, Madam, but among&s;t a thou&s;and People who be&s;eige you? And will you not give me an opportunity to tell you of the Pa&s;&s;ion you have in&s;pir'd me with? Alas! Madam! I fear the wor&s;t, I have no hopes, and you do not &s;o much as take the care to give me the Con&s;olation of one look; and what|ever mine may &s;ay to you, you do not love me enough to under&s;tand their Language, if you would have this great mi&s;tery continue &s;ecret, take care to u&s;e it with &s;ome &s;igns of com|pa&s;&s;ion; for if you give me no a&s;&s;i&s;t|ance I very well find, it will be im|po&s;&s;ible for me to hinder it from ap|pearing.</HI></P>
</LETTER>
<P>I read this Letter a hundred times, but I found my &s;elf in a great trouble when I would an&s;wer it.
<PB N="15" REF="10">My Mother was a Woman of the Age pa&s;t, &s;he thought that a young Girl &s;hould not know how to write; and according to this Maxim, &s;he made me be taught only enough to &s;ign the Contract of Marriage; ne|verthele&s;s I determin'd to write, but I could not do it, without mak|ing a Gentlewoman who &s;erv'd me call'd <HI>Limdville</HI> a Confident to it, becau&s;e &s;he writ indifferently well, and I would make u&s;e of her hand and council in this important di&s;|patch: After I had began &s;everal Letters which I did not like, at la&s;t I &s;tuck to this.</P>
<LETTER LANG="eng">
<P><HI>IT is not without hard&s;hip that I re&s;olved to write to you; and I have not le&s;s to explain my &s;elf, but I would not have you doubt one mo|ment of the acknowledgment I have for the Sentiments you have di&s;cover'd to me, and 'tis you alone that mu&s;t teach me after what manner I am to
<PB N="16" REF="11">explain my &s;elf upon the &s;ubject of Love.</HI></P>
</LETTER>
<P>All the morning being pa&s;t in writing this Note, I thought of nothing but &s;ealing it, and this was but ju&s;t done when my Husband came in, I held the Letter yet in my hand, and &s;triving in ha&s;t to put it in my pocket, unhappily let it fall; my Husband who &s;aw a Pa|per fall betwixt <HI>Limdville</HI> and I, dextrou&s;ly &s;eiz'd of it; and as he is naturally &s;u&s;picious, at the &s;ame time went out to read what he had taken up. I as &s;oon perceiv'd the lo&s;s I had. I look't for the Letter to no purpo&s;e, and you may gue&s;s what fears I had. As there was no time to be lo&s;t in reflection, we con&s;ulted what was to be done to draw me out of this misfortune. The Note was of <HI>Limdvilles</HI> writing, and &s;he acquitted her &s;elf with as much addre&s;s, as a&s;&s;urance in the part
<PB N="17" REF="11">&s;he had agreed to act: And I was in&s;tructing of her in it, when &s;he perceived my Husband gently ap|proach us to over hear what we &s;aid. Yes, Madam, &s;ays &s;he, rai&s;ing her Voice, give me back if you plea&s;e the Note you have taken from me, or give me my di&s;charge; there is no fault in the writing to a Man I pretend to marry, and I humbly de|&s;ire you to leave me no longer in the inquietude you &s;ee me; to keep up the part, I &s;wore to her I had not &s;een her Note; but the more I a&s;&s;ur'd her, the more &s;he pretended to believe it was in my hands.</P>
<P>My Husband took an extream plea&s;ure to overhear this di&s;cour&s;e. <HI>Limdville</HI> de&s;ir'd him he would en|deavour to oblige me to return the Note, and did it with &s;igns of an|ger, which appear'd &s;o &s;incere, that he was per&s;waded, and at la&s;t gave back the Note to <HI>Limdville,</HI> quarel|ling with her for holding &s;o tender corre&s;pondence with a Man.</P>
<PB N="18" REF="12">
<P>She put it off with a fal&s;e confi|dence; and this very Note which had been &s;ome time in my Hus|bands hands, pa&s;t that night into the Prince's, to whom I gave it at the Pre&s;idents; &s;ince this time I have had no occa&s;ion either for a Secre|tary or Interpreter, my pa&s;&s;ion taught me more in Eight days, than I &s;hould have learn't in &s;ix Months, if love had not been concern'd; but yet I was very little at quiet on the part of the Pre&s;ident, he was al|ways telling me of his tenderne&s;s, and per&s;wading me that I ought not to forget it. As he advanc'd not in my favour, and that he believ'd my Husband was an Ob&s;tacle to his de|&s;ires, he impatiently expected till the return of the Spring &s;hould o|blige him to go to the Army. I often &s;aw his Wife, and did not find her &s;o &s;evere as &s;he was Ima|gin'd by the World: She willingly &s;uffer'd the Duke to prai&s;e her
<PB N="19" REF="12">Hands, and Brea&s;ts, which &s;he did not take too much care to hide. The King who does not &s;tay for fair Weather to enlarge his Conque&s;ts, parted in the Month of <HI>February,</HI> for the French Court; my Husband had orders to go to his Regiment, and I was left alone at <HI>Paris,</HI> and it &s;eem'd as if every thing would con|tribute to my happine&s;s, my Mo|ther went into <HI>Burgundy.</HI> And I for|got to tell you, Madam, that my Husband de&s;ir'd the Pre&s;ident and his Wife to take care of my Con|duct, and that he order'd me to do nothing without their advice. The fir&s;t u&s;e I made of my Liberty after my Husbands departure, was to ad|verti&s;e the Prince of it, and to pro|mi&s;e him a meeting in the Kings Garden. I was preparing to go thi|ther, when the Pre&s;ident arriv'd at my Hou&s;e, he began his vi&s;it by a long di&s;cour&s;e of the obligation I was under, to live retiredly whil'&s;t
<PB N="20" REF="13">my Husband was expos'd to the chance of War, and 'twas this the World expected from me, for the E&s;tabli&s;hment of my Reputation: He added that he was de&s;ir'd to take care of it; but when after the&s;e wi&s;e Adverti&s;ements he would &s;peak to me of his love, I maliciou&s;ly ask'd him if that Article was comprehend|ed in the right he pretended over my actions; no reply'd he, but if you do not con&s;ider me, I know ve|ry well how to be reveng'd for the indifference you have always &s;hew'd me; I was in a very bad humour, for I pa&s;t very ill that time I could have imploy'd in a more agreeable Entertainment; neverthele&s;s I was to endure this tire&s;ome Conver&s;ati|on for two hours, and I know not if it had been ended all the day, with|out the arrival of his Lady. He left us alone, as I have &s;omething; &s;aid &s;he, particularly to tell you, I de&s;ire no body may interrupt us. I bid
<PB N="21" REF="13">my Porter &s;hould be commanded to deny me to tho&s;e who came to &s;ee me, and we immediately reti|red to my Clo&s;et, where the Lady &s;poke to me much after this &s;ort. You are not ignorant, my dear Child, (for &s;o &s;he call'd me) that I have a &s;incere kindne&s;s for you, and I &s;hould be ravi&s;h't to &s;ee you hap|py; for this rea&s;on I will give you &s;ome advice that may not be un|u&s;eful to your quiet; for 'tis a great one, to be e&s;teem'd in the World a Per&s;on of a Regular and Wi&s;e Conduct. A Woman there|fore of under&s;tanding, mu&s;t con&s;i|der how to e&s;tabli&s;h her Reputation before &s;he thinks of her plea&s;ure. To arrive to it, there mu&s;t be a great deal in outward appearance, re|trenching the idle part to improve the &s;olid with &s;urety. Such as the&s;e have great priviledges, and there is always an advantagious Explication given to all their Actions. 'Tis thus
<PB N="22" REF="14">that I have happily &s;ucceeded, hav|ing &s;acrific'd the be&s;t time of my Life, to enjoy the other with more freedom. Be&s;ides I &s;hould not have enter'd into &s;o &s;trict a Confidence with you, if I had not remarqu'd that you do not want di&s;creti|tion.</P>
<P>Fix therefore your looks and your heart, &s;et bounds to your de&s;ires, and take heed lea&s;t the de&s;ire of plea&s;ing all Men does not bring you to be de&s;pis'd by 'em. 'Tis a Fooli&s;h thought for a Woman to have &s;uch wandring pretentions; &s;he always ruin's her &s;elf by it, and never pro&s;pers in her de&s;ign. The Friend&s;hip I have for you, &s;hall give you an advantage will help to &s;ave you much from the general Cen|&s;ure; and whil&s;t we &s;hall live thus united, every thing will pa&s;s on this part with great &s;ecrecy; whil&s;t we enjoy an agreeable and plea&s;ant Life. But, my Child, continued &s;he,
<PB N="23" REF="14">I believe you mu&s;t re&s;olve to &s;hew a little Complai&s;ance to Mr. the Pre|&s;ident. I find that he loves you, and I &s;hall not be di&s;plea&s;ed at this Amu&s;ement, that it may hinder him the more from penetrating in|to the my&s;tery of my Conduct.</P>
<P>After this long preamble, the Pre&s;ident's Lady confes'd to me that &s;he lov'd the Duke and was belov'd by him. She added, that not to make Confidents of her Women, &s;he &s;hould be glad of a Friend, that &s;he &s;hould not &s;u&s;pect, when &s;he made her appointments of taking the Air, and that the Prince &s;hould be of the Society, becau&s;e &s;he well under|&s;tood, we had (that which they call) an Affair, together. I approv'd very well of all the Pre&s;idents Lady &s;aid, expecting that I could not a|gree with my &s;elf, to &s;top my de|&s;ires at a &s;ingle Object. I always re&s;erv'd my &s;elf the liberty of my looks upon the General. She al&s;o
<PB N="24" REF="15">told me that the Chievalier <HI>Du</HI>&mdash; and the Count <HI>De la</HI>&mdash; whom I had &s;een at her hou&s;e, were not fit to be of our Secret, and that &s;he de&s;ir'd me not to &s;ee 'em. I pro|mis'd what &s;he de&s;ir'd and kept my word.</P>
<P>This Conver&s;ation ended, the Pre&s;idents Lady would have me go to Supper with her. And as I was going out, my Porter told me the Prince had been to &s;ee me. I thought that the impatience of be|ing alone at the place of meeting, had brought him to know the rea|&s;on I had di&s;appointed him. The Pre&s;ident receiv'd me with great &s;igns of joy, and gave me a thou|&s;and Te&s;timonies of Friend&s;hip. I &s;hew'd him &s;ome &s;light Complai&s;an|ces that pleas'd him, and he was &s;o much the more charm'd by 'em, as he thought 'em free from affectation. You will wonder, Madam, &s;ays he to &s;ee me in a little time, &s;o enlighten'd
<PB N="25" REF="15">in the Affairs of Gallantry; Love is no &s;ooner felt but it teaches us all that we ought to know to enter into its My&s;teries, and I have re|ceiv'd &s;o many Le&s;&s;ons from him as &s;ure not to forget all. When I was return'd home, I found there this Billet from the Prince.</P>
<LETTER LANG="eng">
<HEAD>Billet.</HEAD>
<P><HI>YOu are more knowing then I imagin'd, and I find that you are able to in&s;truct me. Yet, Madam, it is not &s;o ea&s;ie to abu&s;e me as you think, and I almo&s;t under&s;tand the meaning of your proceedings with me. You make me an A&s;&s;ignation and di&s;appoint me; I go to your hou&s;e to know the rea&s;on, your Servants &s;ay you are abroad; and the Pre&s;idents Coach is in your Court. I yield you to that Happy and Worthy Rival, and am extreamly oblig'd to you for the favour you do me of re&s;toring me to my &s;elf.</HI></P>
</LETTER>
<PB N="26" REF="16">
<P>I could not re&s;olve to leave the Prince in the error he was. Tho' it was almo&s;t Midnight, I immediate|ly writ him this an&s;wer.</P>
<LETTER LANG="eng">
<P><HI>THey that have good &s;ence ne|ver judge of things, by ap|pearances, and I am far from being guilty; but you are extreamly &s;o for conceiving &s;o di&s;advantagious an o|pinion of me. Take care to di&s;cover the truth, for I am not Friend e|nough to you this Night, to make you know my innocence, and I perceive it will co&s;t you more pains to repair the injury you do me, than it will be to per&s;wade you that I hate the Pre&s;i|dent, and that I had a great deal of di&s;po&s;ition to love you.</HI></P>
</LETTER>
<P>If Lovers quickly take &s;light &s;u|&s;pitions, they are &s;ubject to lo&s;e 'em with the &s;ame ea&s;ine&s;s. The Prince came to &s;ee me on the mor|row, we clear'd our &s;elves, and the
<PB N="27" REF="16">Peace was made. Altho' the Win|ter was not quite pa&s;t, yet we had fine weather, of which I took care to profit. In &s;pight of the Pre&s;i|dents Ladies advice, I went to the <HI>Vincennes,</HI> where the young Com|pany that was left at <HI>Paris</HI> did not fail to meet. I met there the Che|valier <HI>Du</HI>&mdash; whom I had &s;een &s;eve|ral times at the Pre&s;idents. He drove near my Coach, we got out and walk'd &s;ome time. You may imagine, Madam, he &s;aid many plea|&s;ing things to me, and I did not refu&s;e to hearken to 'em. We be|gan a kind of an Affair, but no|thing came of it, becau&s;e he went the next day to the Army, and was kill'd in that Campagne, I made a great many more of this kind, that I &s;hall not mention, applying my &s;elf only to tho&s;e that have been the occa&s;ion of the misfortunes of my life.</P>
<PB N="28" REF="17">
<P>I told the Pre&s;idents Wife of the quarrel I had had with the Prince. She generou&s;ly offer'd her &s;elf to recon|cile us, but my heart had prevented her Cares. We talk'd very familiar|ly, and &s;he told me &s;he had never had any falling out with the Duke. It does not make me, &s;aid I, have the greater opinion either of your kindne&s;s or his, a Pa&s;&s;ion without any di&s;turbance re&s;embles marriage too much; there mu&s;t be quarrels for the plea&s;ure of Reconcilements; there mu&s;t be difficulties for the glo|ry of overcoming 'em; there mu&s;t be My&s;tery not to divide with any the &s;weetne&s;s of a tender Com|merce. What would you have me &s;ay to you, continued I? I &s;hould not hate a Lover that out of a prin|ciple of jealou&s;ie &s;hould be carry'd into a little Violence. As for that the Pre&s;idents Lady, &s;aid there's none can as you do without having an ill ta&s;t of things. Do not let us enter
<PB N="29" REF="17">into a di&s;pute of this &s;aid I, but I am very well per&s;waded that no Woman of Gallantry will be di&s;pleas'd at what I &s;ay. A great importment is always a &s;ign of Love. But, my dear, reply'd the Pre&s;idents Lady, I find you very knowing for a Woman who was marry'd young, and to a &s;evere Husband, for I &s;uppo&s;e upon this occa&s;ion you do not confound the Husband with the Lover: No certainly, returned I, for the very thing which &s;eems in&s;upportable in the fir&s;t would be a Charm in the latter. You have had the experi|ence of both, then an&s;wer'd the Pre&s;idents Lady? Not at all, re|ply'd I, 'tis my imagination only makes the differences, 'twas to little purpo&s;e to uphold my opinion, the Pre&s;idents Lady would not con&s;ent to it. We pa&s;t for two Months our time peaceably enough, at lea&s;t in our Society, for in my particular I was not without <HI>Chagrins</HI> and Plea|&s;ures.</P>
<PB N="31" REF="18">
<P>You may remember, Madam, if you plea&s;e, that I told you I had walk'd with the Chevalier <HI>Du</HI>&mdash; at <HI>Vincennes,</HI> and that we had be|gan an Adventure for his return. The poor Man was kill'd at the Seige of <HI>Dole;</HI> and the Count <HI>De la</HI>&mdash; brought me the news. I cry'd bitterly at it, and by my Tears the Count imagin'd I had a heart capable of a true kindne&s;s. upon the&s;e thoughts he undertook to Comfort me, he &s;poke to me, I remember, more then two hours without being able to make me un|der&s;tand rea&s;on, but when, having fix'd his eyes upon me, he told me how happy they were that were be|lov'd by me, and that he a&s;&s;ur'd me he would u&s;e all endeavours to ac|quire that Glory, I hearkened to him, look't upon him, and did not forbid him from hoping. Some days pa&s;t without my &s;eeing of him, but I was neverthele&s;s rejoyc'd at
<PB N="32" REF="18">his coming from the Army. Since I had the Pre&s;ident, his Lady and the Prince to Mannage, I told the Count he mu&s;t not come &s;o often to me. I had an Intimacy with &s;ome Ladies who were his Friends, at who&s;e hou&s;e I gave him &s;ome meet|ings, and it was a great plea&s;ure to me to find him always fir&s;t at the place appointed. He is certainly a Man of great Penetration, and for that rea&s;on he perceived by all my ways, that I had no &s;olidity in my mind. He made a journey into the Country, and was forgot before he return'd. He had made &s;ure but little impre&s;&s;ion in my heart, be|cau&s;e it has &s;aid nothing in his fa|vour &s;ince. I made a reflexion one day upon this half-adventure, and I &s;aid to my &s;elf; this is the Fate of calm Amours. If I had met with great Ob&s;tacles to overcome, great quarrels to appear, and that both my wit and my heart were
<PB N="33" REF="19">bu&s;ied, I &s;hould not &s;eek after (as I do) fre&s;h occa&s;ions of an Affair.</P>
<P>In the mean time my good For|tune &s;eem'd to be well e&s;tabli&s;h'd. Neither my Husband, Nor Mother talk'd of returning, and I manag'd the Pre&s;ident with &s;uch Addre&s;s, that he thought my Vertue was the cau&s;e of all the <HI>Chagrins</HI> my indifference made him &s;uffer. There happen'd neverthele&s;s &s;ome change in my Affairs, and I &s;hould have had &s;ome trouble&s;ome minutes to pa&s;s if I had been capable of it. The Princes<HI>'s</HI> Relations oblig'd him to marry. I be|lieve that if this engagement did not altogether break off our Commerce, I mu&s;t at lea&s;t give him the liberty to appear &s;o. But yet every thing had another turn: He marry'd a Woman without Beauty and Me|rit, and only con&s;iderable for her Riches; &s;o that finding nothing in her Per&s;on, or Wit that could in|gage him to her, he &s;oon di&s;penc'd
<PB N="34" REF="19">with tho&s;e Cares that are requir'd in a &s;uitable Marriage, and I had not rea&s;on to &s;u&s;pect &s;he had rob'd me of his heart. I determined to &s;ee the Prince&s;s, and &s;he gave me rea&s;on enough to commend her. But, Madam, the plea&s;ures of love are e&s;tabli&s;h't upon &s;o little &s;olid foun|dations, that they are &s;ubject to great revolutions. I had &s;lept hi|therto in the bo&s;om of pro&s;perity (if it be lawful to &s;ay &s;o) but now it was time to Experiment to what trouble Gallantry expo&s;es the Wo|men.</P>
<P>The Pre&s;ident who began to be weary of my re&s;i&s;tance, and who would not &s;ee that he ought to im|pute the rea&s;on of it, to nothing but his want of de&s;ert, re&s;olved to en|deavour to penetrate into my heart. And to do it with the greater ea&s;e, he had prevail'd upon that Gentle|woman that drew me &s;o well out of the trouble of the fir&s;t Letter. Per|fidious
<PB N="34" REF="20"><HI>Limelville</HI> di&s;cover'd to him all that you have heard from me, and did not forget what pa&s;t betwixt me and the Chevalier <HI>Du</HI>&mdash;and the Count <HI>De la</HI>&mdash; But the Love the Pre&s;ident had for me making him continue his prudence, he de&s;ir'd to be convinc'd of my Intrigues by his own eyes. One Evening when the Prince was with me in my Clo&s;et, <HI>Limelville</HI> adver|tiz'd the Pre&s;ident of it. The knowledge of it caus'd him &s;ome di&s;turbance; but as there are few Lovers but love to flatter them&s;elves he thought I took but little plea&s;ure in the Princes Vi&s;it; and to be &s;atisfi+ed in it, he bid his Wife &s;end to de&s;ire me to come and play with her at <HI>Ombre.</HI> I told the Me&s;&s;enger I could not po&s;&s;ibly go, becau&s;e I was to an&s;wer a long Letter I had receiv'd from my Husband. I thought that this would have made my excu&s;e, but it only &s;erv'd to anger the Pre|&s;ident,
<PB N="35" REF="20">he found I &s;ought an oppor|tunity of being alone with the Prince; and to make me blu&s;h at it he made a propo&s;ition to his Wife and the Duke to go to my hou&s;e. I had taken no care to receive them, and I did not hear 'em before they were in my Antichamber. I went ha&s;tily to them, and would have had 'em gone into another Apart|ment; but the Pre&s;ident &s;hov'd me back, and went with a Light into my Clo&s;et, where he found the Prince in &s;ome di&s;order. You may ea&s;ily imagine with what Air they &s;aluted each other, and they went together to the Room where the Pre&s;idents Lady &s;tay'd with the Duke; after which the Pre&s;ident oblig'd me to go with him into the Chamber he had refus'd to go but a minute before.</P>
<P>I had not the time to reflect upon what I &s;hould alledge for not com|ing to his hou&s;e, and for &s;taying alone
<PB N="36" REF="21">with the Prince. Shall I tell you Madam his jealou&s;ie was &s;o violent that he gave me a blow on the Ear with all his force. After this hor|rible Carriage, he &s;aid every thing to me that might load me with &s;hame. I know not how I was able to endure the&s;e Violences; but the little &s;ence I had of 'em, made me contented to receive a beating for a plea&s;ure. But far from repul|&s;ing Concern by Concern, I ima|gin'd the Pre&s;ident a Man of the greate&s;t moderation in the World, was carryed to this injurous Vio|lence by an exce&s;s of jealou&s;ie only, which is never without Love. When he had left off &s;peaking, I was go|ing to ju&s;tifie my &s;elf, by telling him, I dur&s;t not refu&s;e to entertain the Prince, lea&s;t he &s;hould think 'twas &s;ome Affair of my heart had hindred me from &s;hewing him that Complai&s;ance. Hold your tongue, perfidious Woman, cry'd he, I know
<PB N="37" REF="21">the whole Intrigue. He told me in effect what had happen'd to me with the Prince, the Chevalier, and the Count, and made me know that <HI>Limelville</HI> had adverti&s;ed him of all. Submi&s;&s;ion was the only cour&s;e I could take after this, and certainly the &s;afe&s;t for me.</P>
<P>Whil'&s;t I endeavour'd to di&s;&s;ipate the doubts of the Pre&s;ident, his Lady and the Prince enjoy'd but unhappy Minutes. The la&s;t was afraid lea&s;t at the co&s;t of my Fidelity I &s;hould reconcile my &s;elf with the Pre&s;ident; and the fir&s;t was dead with fear, that I &s;hould Sacrifice to her Hus|band all the Secrets &s;he had confided to me. Nothing of this nature happen'd. I only endeavour'd to convince him that he was in the wrong to be jealous; and the inte|re&s;t I had to prevail upon him, made me think of &s;o good rea&s;ons, and find &s;uch Eloquent words, that at la&s;t I brought him to ask me pardon.
<PB N="38" REF="22">So that we rejoyn'd the Company in a good reconcilement, con&s;ider|ing we had had &s;o great a falling out.</P>
<P>The Prince and the Pre&s;idents Lady appear'd a little &s;urpris'd, that &s;o great a trouble &s;hould be &s;o &s;oon appeas'd. I look't to &s;ee if I could di&s;cover their thoughts by their Eyes; but they were &s;o bu&s;ie in looking upon one the other, that they did not perceive the meaning of mine. As play was the pretence of the vi&s;it, and that the time for it was pa&s;t in other things, we parted. I di&s;charg'd <HI>Limelville,</HI> and the Pre&s;ident would no longer hearken to her. I thought then I was very well got out of &s;o dange|rous an Affair; but I was mi&s;ta|ken, for there were great alterations in our Commerce. <HI>Limelville</HI> told all that &s;he knew to the Pre&s;idents Lady, and did not &s;o much as con|ceal it from the Prince. I was very
<PB N="39" REF="22">much &s;urpris'd to find a great cold|ne&s;s in their proceedings the next day, they did not tell me the rea&s;on of it. And I confe&s;s to you, I was not very inqui&s;itive to di&s;cover it. We walk'd at the <HI>Ar&s;enal,</HI> and the Duke came to us, he gave the Pre|&s;idents Lady his hand, and the Prince began &s;o forc't a Conver&s;ati|on with me, that I &s;oon perceiv'd he was angry at the Adventure of the day before. His frozen Air made me conceive certain Conje|ctures of his alteration. The Duke was no more &s;atisfi'd with the pro|cedure of the Pre&s;idents Lady, and we had very near the &s;ame thoughts 'twas in this occa&s;ion, Madam, that I remembred what the Pre&s;ident had told me concerning the Prince's di&s;po&s;ition. He began to appear le&s;s worthy of my E&s;teem. And what before appear'd excellent, was now like the common way of the World; on the contrary the Acti|ons
<PB N="40" REF="23">of the Pre&s;ident became more taking and Graceful I mu&s;t confe&s;s that the&s;e thoughts were de&s;troy'd as fa&s;t as they came, but they re|turn'd too often, that tho' I had not a de&s;ign to make him a happy Lover, I had at lea&s;t a de&s;ire to make him a Friend to me for my whole life. To &s;peak truth, I did not know my &s;elf yet, and I was very uncapable of a Conduct fit for &s;uch a Project.</P>
<P>The Pre&s;idents Lady on her &s;ide was tired with the long undi&s;turb'd enjoyment of the Duke, and had ta&s;ted of the in&s;inuating Wit of the Prince, &s;he had likewi&s;e made I &s;uppo&s;e &s;ome Advances; for he is of that humour, I know, not to love a Lady that may be call'd a Mother or a Governe&s;s. I &s;aw very well &s;he did not &s;tand le&s;s in fear of me, then the Duke. She thought with rea&s;on if &s;he &s;hould oppo&s;e me, that I would acquaint the World in Ge|neral,
<PB N="41" REF="23">and her Husband in particu|lar, how they were mi&s;taken in the fal&s;e opinion of her Vertue; but as &s;he had Wit and a young Amour was concern'd in it, &s;he took the cour&s;e to abu&s;e me.</P>
<P>I was one day walking alone with her in her Garden. I had the plea&s;ure to &s;ee her take two or three turns in great ha&s;t, and to hear her &s;igh as if &s;he had had &s;ome extream Melancholy. I expected with impatience where all this would end, when &s;he began to tell me that the opinion of the World was the mo&s;t dangerous enemy to Women; that it was incon&s;i&s;tent with quiet; that &s;he had ta&s;ted more plea&s;ures in the au&s;terity of her retirement, than &s;he had ever found in the liberty &s;he had given her &s;elf. In fine Madam, &s;aid &s;he to me, it was not in my power to hide from you this Melancholy and the&s;e Sighs, which are the effects of
<PB N="42" REF="24">a Combat in my brea&s;t, betwixt the remainder of a little inclinati|on for the World, and a re&s;olution of leaving it without return.</P>
<P>I &s;aid nothing to oppo&s;e her Re|&s;olutions. I knew very well they were affected, and that &s;he was al|ways too &s;trictly ty'd to the World. I commended her extreamly for ap|plying her &s;elf to the &s;olid part; and when &s;he told me experience con|firm'd her in the&s;e thoughts, I a&s;&s;ur'd her, that when I had as much as &s;he, I would willingly take the Re&s;olution &s;he was about. This Subject &s;erv'd to entertain us five or &s;ix days, during which time I often met the Duke, who endea|vour'd to make me con&s;ent to go halves with him in Revenge; but I would have all the honour of it my &s;elf, and 'twould have troubled me to have &s;har'd it with any o|ther.</P>
<PB N="43" REF="24">
<P>I heard in the mean time that the Pre&s;idents Lady often &s;aw the Prince at his Wives hou&s;e, where &s;he vi&s;ited under the pretence of a Friend, to reconcile their differen|ces, and that &s;he did it by Sacrifi|cing me. I re&s;olv'd &s;he &s;hould be|come a Victim to my re&s;entment, but I found it an unworthine&s;s un|becoming me to betray the &s;ecrets &s;he had confided to me, and there|fore I e&s;tabli&s;ht my Revenge upon a more curious foundation.</P>
<P>I was at the Pre&s;idents, and he had in particular entertain'd me a good while. She ask'd me accord|ing to her Cu&s;tom what he had &s;aid for me. He &s;poke to me, &s;aid I, about the night he found the Prince with me, and repre&s;ented to me the injury a Woman does her &s;elf by having a Commerce with a Man of that Character. It is not better, &s;aid &s;he, to have it with my Husband than the Prince. As
<PB N="44" REF="25">things have not been alter'd &s;ince you e&s;tabli&s;ht 'em as they are, re|ply'd I, I do not &s;ee what rea&s;on you have to condemn 'em now. The &s;cruple of having contributed to it, an&s;wer'd the Pre&s;idents Lady. I take it upon my &s;elf, &s;aid I, and you will not think it ami&s;s if I pre|&s;erve a Friend I infinitely e&s;teem. The ill will &s;he had for me, and I for her made a great progre&s;s in a little time: I al&s;o learnt that the inclination &s;he had for the Prince did not move at a &s;lower rate. I had no jealou&s;ie upon it; but it is certain that a Woman who pretends to Beauty, can't &s;ee without trou|ble one of more years, and le&s;s Fair, have the advantage to engage her Lover. The Curio&s;ity I had to know what pa&s;t betwixt the Pre&s;i|dents Lady and the Prince, in&s;pir'd me with a de&s;ire to bribe one of the Prince's Foot-men; it was not hard to &s;educe him, and 'twas he
<PB N="45" REF="25">that told me the Pre&s;idents Lady and her new Gallant were to go for a day, to a hou&s;e of the Pre&s;idents, five or &s;ix Leagues from <HI>Paris,</HI> where he had often &s;olicited me to pa&s;s &s;ome few days. I had deny'd it till now; but at this time I pre&s;t him to it, as well as to keep the Secret of our De&s;ign without tel|ling him the rea&s;on of it; I de&s;ir'd him to approve of ingageing the Prince&s;s to be of the Company, for &s;he began to di&s;abu&s;e her &s;elf about the Calumnies had been rais'd on me. I went to her hou&s;e and pro|pos'd to her to take the Air at <HI>Ruel.</HI> I thought it was be&s;t thus to put the change upon her, becau&s;e &s;he is not a Woman to be proceeded with in down right Mea&s;ures.</P>
<P>I did not ill to make u&s;e of this way, for &s;he told her Husband &s;he was to go the next day to <HI>Ruel;</HI> he was not angry at it, in the thoughts &s;he would go away different from
<PB N="46" REF="26">what he intended. And the Pre&s;i|dent had not le&s;s joy, when his Wife told him &s;he was to go the next day to the Abby of St. <HI>Cyr,</HI> to &s;ee Madam <HI>Arangonnis</HI> who was retir'd thither. And as I would have nothing wanting in my re|venge, I writ a Note to the Duke and pray'd him to meet me there, but I de&s;pair'd of his coming, be|cau&s;e I was told he was at <HI>Ver|&s;ailles.</HI></P>
<P>I &s;aw with great joy the day ar|rive that was to yeild me &s;o much plea&s;ure, and give &s;uch confu&s;ion to my Rival. The Pre&s;ident had not le&s;s, for he per&s;waded him&s;elf he &s;hould draw great advantages from this meeting. He had order'd his Servants to go expect him at his Country hou&s;e, and to get ready a Treat for us; but I took &s;uch order that one of my Footmen amus'd 'em on the way, and undertaking to appea&s;e the Pre&s;ident if he &s;hould
<PB N="47" REF="26">be angry at it, I went to take up the Prince&s;s whom I told we would not go to <HI>Ruel,</HI> becau&s;e the Dut|che&s;s of <HI>Aiguillon</HI> was there. She &s;uffer'd us to conduct her whether we pleas'd, for &s;he is a Woman of an ea&s;ie per&s;wa&s;ion. We went to find the Pre&s;ident, who &s;tay'd for us at the Gate, St. <HI>Antoine</HI> with the Abbot <HI>B</HI>&mdash; and we began our Journey with a great deal of Gaye|ty, the Pre&s;ident by hopes that were vain, the Prince&s;s by a de&s;ire of diverting her &s;elf, and I in thoughts of a full revenge upon the Pre&s;idents Lady and my perfidious Lover. The Abbot <HI>B</HI>&mdash; for his part was not without plea&s;ure, &s;ince he gave him&s;elf that of rehear&s;ing a whole peice for the Stage, he had but lately fini&s;hed; in the mean time envious joys came into my mind that made me break out into Laughters, which no body could penetrate into the cau&s;e off. We
<PB N="48" REF="27">di&s;cover'd at la&s;t the Hou&s;e, and enter'd into it without being per|ceiv'd, for this Journey was taken in a Sea&s;on, when every body was bu&s;ied in the Field; and the Pre&s;i|dents Lady's People were employ'd in making ready a little Entertain|ment.</P>
<P>From the Ante-Court, we walk'd into the Court of Honour, where the Pre&s;ident and the Prince&s;s had the plea&s;ure to &s;ee &s;ome of the Prin|ces's his Foot-men, and the Pre&s;idents Lady's Coach. What &s;urpri&s;e &s;o|ever the &s;ight of this gave, it was not &s;ufficient for my &s;atisfaction, I would have 'em &s;ee more; and that no time might be given to any to adverti&s;e the Lovers, of the Com|pany that was arriv'd, I went be|fore, whil&s;t the Pre&s;ident was ask|ing his Lady's Foot-men &s;ome que|&s;tions. The Prince&s;s follow'd me, and we went with all the diligence imaginable into a low Apartment
<PB N="49" REF="27">we found open, we cros'd a great Hall and &s;everal Chambers with|out meeting any body. I began to think we were mi&s;taken; but at la&s;t I open'd the door of a Clo&s;et, where the Prince&s;s, the Pre&s;ident and I di&s;cover'd the Prince and the Pre&s;i|dents Lady alone together.</P>
<P>She did not &s;eem the lea&s;t mov'd or &s;urpriz'd at it, but &s;aid to me with an a&s;toni&s;h'd confidence, you did not think, Madam, to have met here &s;o good Company. I would not have you come to a hou&s;e where I have any &s;hare, without finding me there to pay you my Service. I confe&s;s, Madam, I thought the man|ner the Pre&s;idents Lady &s;poke to me in, would have made me forget I only came to &s;urpri&s;e her: She bore the adventure without di&s;or|der; and her free Air, that had no concern upon it appear'd like inno|cence it &s;elf. She afterwards &s;aid a thou&s;and extravagant things to the
<PB N="50" REF="28">Pre&s;ident, to the Prince&s;s and to me, not &s;paring &s;o much as the Abbot <HI>B</HI>&mdash; and when the poor Hus|band ask'd her what had hindred her from going to St. <HI>Cyr,</HI> and why &s;he was &s;hut up with the prince, &s;he an&s;wered &s;he had a mind to be &s;atisfied of my Conduct, and to &s;ee her &s;elf that I was unworthy of her Friend&s;hip. Whil&s;t the Pre|&s;idents Lady and her Husband were &s;aying what boldne&s;s and jealou&s;ie could in&s;pire, the Prince&s;s thought her &s;elf oblig'd to rea&s;on with her Husband in the &s;ame nature, and without having re&s;pect to his high quality, &s;he &s;aid a thou&s;and things that ob&s;cur'd a little his Shining Title. The di&s;covery had not been regular nor my revenge perfect, if the Duke had neglected coming; he receiv'd my Note as he was re|turning from <HI>Ver&s;ailles,</HI> 'twas ea&s;ie for him to comprehend that I writ to him with a de&s;ign to clear the
<PB N="51" REF="28">doubts he had about the infidelity of the Pre&s;idents Lady, who not long &s;ince made him under&s;tand, that a true remor&s;e of Con&s;cience pre&s;t her to break off a Commerce, &s;he could not in Piety con&s;ent too.</P>
<P>The Duke not believing her of this Sentiment, had a de&s;ire to be convinc'd of it. For this rea&s;on he only &s;tay'd the time to change his Cloaths, and mounting on Hor&s;e|back with one Page only, he came full &s;peed where he was &s;ure to find me. He could not arrive at a fitter time for his in&s;truction. A little attention would &s;oon teach him what he was ignorant off.</P>
<P>It was the Prince&s;s that took the care to inform him. The Duke is not a Man that ea&s;ily forgives faults of that nature; and if he did not &s;pare the innocent, you may judge what he did to the guilty, he did not intend to con&s;ider, but abandon'd him&s;elf to the plea&s;ure of revenge;
<PB N="52" REF="29">and taking no notice of the Hus|bands and Lovers over hearing him, he &s;ell into the way of rallery which you know is Natural to him. Madam &s;ays he, addre&s;&s;ing him&s;elf to the Pre|&s;idents Lady, I am come to partici|patein the &s;weetne&s;s of your Medita|tions to ask you what Fruit you have reap'd by 'em, and whether they have utterly de&s;troy'd the Love you have &s;o often &s;wore for me; but I very well &s;ee, that your new Dire|ctor has a greater part in the change of your Conduct, than tho&s;e holy re&s;olutions you oppos'd me with, and that he has quite put out a fire that in my opinion I had very well entertain'd for a year, I mu&s;t tell you likewi&s;e that without the lea&s;t <HI>Chagrin</HI> I &s;aw you follow a cour&s;e I thought I had drawn you from; but I &s;hould be guilty of all the Crimes in your new Commerce, if in my turn I did not Exhort you to be more faithful to Mr. the Pre&s;i|dent,
<PB N="43" REF="29">than you have hitherto been, and if I did not advertize him to be no longer blinded by the fal&s;e &s;hew of an imaginary Vertue.</P>
<P>Whil&s;t the Duke &s;poke thus, the unhappy Husband, his Wife and the Prince kept a &s;ilence full of Con|fu&s;ion, not but that they all had e|nough to &s;ay, but there is &s;eldome Eloquence when &s;uch parts, as the&s;e three had, were to be play'd.</P>
<P>The Prince&s;s who hearken'd to the Duke with an inceavable plea|&s;ure, could not forbear crying out when he had ended, Ah! what a great deal of wit has the Duke! It was not nece&s;&s;ary &s;he &s;hould excite him to recommence a di&s;cour&s;e wherein there was &s;uch Subject to debate. What Mr. the Pre&s;ident, reply'd he, are you in&s;en&s;ible or the Conduct of your Wife? And will you never &s;ee the inju&s;tices &s;he does you? Do not you know, that at the &s;ame time you had a Law Suit
<PB N="54" REF="30">with a Man of your own profe&s;&s;ion, with whom you would have no Ac|commodation, &s;he liv'd with him without any quarrel, and &s;acrifis'd your Honour and her own, to her irregular Pa&s;&s;ion? Have you been ignorant that the Marque&s;s of St&mdash; has been very great with her? And how come you not to perceive, that I was not ill with her?</P>
<P>You &s;ee well, Madam, that what the Duke &s;aid was &s;ufficient to give the Pre&s;ident great light into the counterfeit carriage of his Wife; but when he could yet have &s;aid more, the Pre&s;idents Lady inter|rupted him to an&s;wer, as &s;he &s;aid, his impo&s;tures, for &s;o &s;he call'd the ralliry he made upon his intrigues. The Prince appearing irritated, I was afraid lea&s;t he would quarrel with the Duke, and I reproach'd with being the occa&s;ion of this diffe|rence, I drew the la&s;t apart, let us go Mr. the Duke &s;aid I, and leave
<PB N="55" REF="30">the&s;e marry'd People in peace; they may terminate their difference with|out us.</P>
<P>In effect I oblig'd the Duke to go, and we walk'd in a very fine Garden, whil&s;t the Abbot <HI>B</HI>&mdash; undertook to reconcile the Hus|bands and Wives. Although the Duke knew very well there was a great deal of jealou&s;ie in my pro|ceeding, and did not doubt but I had had a true love for the Prince, he did not then make any reflection upon it, he made me under&s;tand that he was ravi&s;h't at the infidelity of the Pre&s;idents Lady; and that it only had prevented a de&s;ign he had in a few days, to &s;or&s;ake her to apply him&s;elf to me; that what he had &s;aid did not proceed from a true <HI>Chagrin</HI> or di&s;quiet at her al|teration, but from a &s;ecret Com|plai&s;ance he had to all my Sen|timents.</P>
<PB N="56" REF="31">
<P>The Duke was well made, Li|beral and Magnificent, and I very well fore-&s;aw that after this adven|ture I &s;hould lo&s;e both the Prince, the Pre&s;ident and his Wife. Infine, Madam, I mu&s;t confe&s;s, I was pre|vail'd upon by the thoughts that the Merit of a young Per&s;on was di|&s;tingui&s;h'd only by the number of Lovers, and that to pa&s;s the life a|greeably, &s;he ought at lea&s;t to have one. I therefore hearken'd to the Duke, without an&s;wering never|thele&s;s the prote&s;tations he made to love me till death, but I did not repul&s;e him &s;o much as to make him believe tho&s;e prote&s;tations were in|different to me. I had a very great de&s;ire to &s;ee the Court, with all the agreements that accompany tho&s;e who are well born, have great Re|venues, and eminent Dignities. As he had a penetrating wit, and knew the de&s;ire I had to appear among&s;t the People of great Quality, &s;o he
<PB N="57" REF="31">flatter'd me by a&s;&s;uring me I &s;hould not &s;ee any thing there &s;o hand&s;ome as my &s;elf. The Abbot <HI>B</HI> &mdash; found me very much employ'd in hearing what was &s;aid to me; I learn't from him that the Pre&s;ident endeavour'd to ju&s;tifie his Wife; that they laid to my charge the unhappine&s;s of that journey; and that they both re|&s;olv'd to ruin me at my Husbands return. The Duke who was di&s;|pleas'd at this threatning, out of the intere&s;t he began to have in my Per&s;on, de&s;ir'd the Abbot to go to the Pre&s;idents Lady and tell her he would an&s;wer for the event, and that he would publi&s;h to the World what he knew of her good di&s;po&s;i|tions. The Abbot acquitted him|&s;elf in his mediation with an ex|que&s;ite Addre&s;s, and all was pacified in appearance, but the Pre&s;ident could never re&s;olve with him&s;elf to pardon me; in earne&s;t, although Ma|dam, all that I have &s;aid to you has
<PB N="58" REF="32">much of the Air of a Romance, and that the Fabulous Heroes have never had occa&s;ion to eat, you mu&s;t ob|&s;erve if you plea&s;e, that this is a true Story, and that they who com|po&s;e it are not exempt from that ne|ce&s;&s;ity, for my part I found my &s;elf much di&s;pos'd to it; I de&s;ir'd the Abbot to remember the Pre&s;ident of it; his Servants that were ar|riv'd had prepar'd a very pretty En|tertainment. Whil&s;t they were at Table, the Abbot thought fit to di&s;|cour&s;e about the rules of Tragedy, and the opinion of the Abbot of <HI>Aubignac</HI> concerning <HI>Dramatique</HI> Poetry. He undertook perhaps this Subject, becau&s;e he had writ &s;ome Peices him&s;elf, and perhaps to hinder the di&s;cour&s;ing of tho&s;e di|fferences were but ju&s;t appeas'd.</P>
<P>Since that day I &s;aw none of that Society, and I thought of nothing but &s;hewing my &s;elf at Court, where I went with one of the Dukes Si&s;t|ers.
<PB N="59" REF="32">My Face and my Shape made more noi&s;e than they de&s;erved, but you know, Madam, that a Novelty is of great value in the World, and that there is &s;carcely any but &s;he has the art to impo&s;e upon; 'tis therefore to that I ought to attri|bute all the plea&s;ing things were &s;aid to me by the Duke <HI>de Saux</HI> and the Marque&s;s <HI>de Villeroy.</HI> The Va|nity I &s;hew'd at it, gave the Duke occa&s;ion to repent he had conducted me to breath that Air; and that which ruin'd me quite was that be|ing one day at <HI>Trianon,</HI> I perceiv'd the King ask'd him who I was, and look't upon me after a manner that made me under&s;tand he did not think me di&s;agreeable. The Duke told me I was not deceiv'd.</P>
<P>I mu&s;t confe&s;s, Madam, that when a Woman is fild with fal&s;e Glory, and has the mind of a perfect Co|quet, &s;he is &s;ubject to &s;trange wan|drings. The Duke having a&s;&s;ur'd
<PB N="60" REF="33">that I did not di&s;plea&s;e the King; I conceiv'd ridiculous Idea's of an imaginary Felicity, and I believed I might arrive to touch the heart of a Monarch. I never &s;hew'd my &s;elf but I was dres'd as if I was to ap|pear before him; and took great care of my Conduct, that it might not be an ob&s;tacle to my vain hopes. I &s;ay vain becau&s;e it is certain all the&s;e projects pa&s;t only in my ima|gination, as fa&s;t as the&s;e illu&s;ions were di&s;&s;ipated, I began to be more humane, and the Duke took the care to give me many diverti&s;e|ments, to de&s;troy, as he &s;aid, the <HI>Chimoera</HI> that had &s;o per|&s;ecuted me. He lov'd Fea&s;ting, and &s;carce a day pa&s;t but he made me &s;ome great Entertainment. I car|ried a hundred Women rather out of Vanity than e&s;teem, for it is cer|tain Coquets never love any thing; but I did not fore-&s;ee that this noi&s;e which I vainly e&s;teemed an honour,
<PB N="61" REF="33">advanc'd my undoing, and would &s;oon plung me into great misfor|tunes.</P>
<P>My Husband had Orders from the King to go to the Count <HI>De Vig|nory,</HI> who was then Governour of <HI>Binch,</HI> upon a &s;ecret expedition. Some difficulty's happen'd which retarded their De&s;igns, and oblig'd my Husband to make a longer &s;tay at <HI>Binch</HI> than he imagin'd. <HI>Vignory</HI> endeavoured to divert him, and &s;hew him perhaps that he was a Man of good Fortune, carry'd him to a Lady's a Neighbour to his Go|vernment, by whom he &s;eem'd not to be ill receiv'd; and to make his credit in the hou&s;e appear yet grea|ter, he told him that having under|&s;tood from the Lady that &s;he had occa&s;ion for a Gentlewoman to wait on her, he had prefer'd one from <HI>Paris,</HI> who had belong'd to me. Nothing ingag'd my Husband more to make the vi&s;it they propos'd to
<PB N="62" REF="34">him than the de&s;ire to know after what manner I liv'd during his ab|&s;ence. That Gentlewoman whom <HI>Vignory</HI> &s;poke of, was the treacherous <HI>Limelville.</HI> My Husband &s;aw her, and you may very well think that out of an intention to revenge her &s;elf on me for di&s;charging her, &s;he told him every thing that might rai&s;e his jea|lou&s;ie. And as &s;he had the Art of en|larging Objects, and giving the ap|pearance of a great Crime to what was but a Trifle, &s;he did not forget to tell him that I was fal'n out with the Prince, the Pre&s;ident, and his Lady, and all that &s;he knew concerning my Intrigues. He de&s;ir'd her not to di&s;|cover &s;o important a Secret to any other body, and a&s;&s;ur'd her that af|ter he had giv'n me a puni&s;hment, he would recall her to employ her in the government of his Hou&s;e. After <HI>Limelville</HI> had &s;o well in|&s;tructed him, he had no other thoughts then to execute the Orders
<PB N="63" REF="34">he had receiv'd, that he might have an opportunity to return and give an account of it to the King. They both &s;ucceeded indifferently well in their Enterpri&s;e, a con&s;ide|rable party of the Enemies was de|feated, and my Husband came back to <HI>Paris,</HI> with &s;o good news, that he did not fear an ill reception from his Maje&s;ty, altho' he had no parti|cular order for his coming.</P>
<P>Whil&s;t the&s;e things pa&s;t, I was not without trouble, for the Duke is not a Man of an ea&s;ie Commerce. Every thing created &s;u&s;pi&s;ions; the mo&s;t innocent actions appear'd to him to be Criminal, and I liv'd in a Con&s;traint that began to be in&s;up|portable.</P>
<P>One Evening (and it was the mo&s;t terrible of my life) I re&s;olv'd to take the Air at the point of the I&s;le; this was the quarter where I Lodg'd. You mu&s;t remember, Ma|dam, the Duke reproach'd the Pre|&s;idents
<PB N="64" REF="35">Lady for having an Affair of Gallantry, with the Marque&s;s <HI>De Saint</HI>&mdash; 'twas unhappily that Marque&s;s I met, and I could not di&s;pence with my &s;elf from &s;uffer|ing him to give me his hand to lead me. He had &s;een me in divers pla|ces, and not long &s;ince at <HI>Ver&s;ailles,</HI> and my ingaging manner had caus'd in him an inclination for me. I took plea&s;ure in having a Conver&s;a|tion with a Man that did not &s;cold at me, for the Duke had behav'd him&s;elf towards me like the wor&s;t Husband in the World. I gave him attention for a long time, and when he had &s;poke what he de&s;ir'd to &s;ay, I told him of the di&s;gu&s;t I had for all Men in general, and I paint|ed him the Character of &s;uch a Lo|ver I &s;hould have wi&s;h'd for. Then I increas'd the puni&s;hment mu&s;t be endur'd in managing a jealous di&s;|po&s;ition, and the torment of being capable of the &s;ame pa&s;&s;ion. I told
<PB N="65" REF="35">him under fal&s;e Names the di&s;con|tents my Husband and the Duke gave me, and the rea&s;ons of com|plaint I had receiv'd from all that had &s;hew'd me any pa&s;&s;ion. I open'd my heart, in fine, to the Marque&s;s without imagining I was overheard, the Night was dark, and I did not ob&s;erve the Duke was at our heels, with a Cloak thrown over his Face. I took &s;ome few more turns and re|tired without &s;uffering the Marque&s;s to conduct me home. When I ar|riv'd I heard the Duke expected me. I very well comprehended he was not preparing for me an agreeable reception. I was not deceiv'd, af|ter he had told me all the conver&s;a|tion I had had with the Marque&s;s, he pa&s;t from words to actions, and altho' my fault con&s;i&s;ted only in a great imprudence, he gave me as Rigorous a puni&s;hment, as if it had been an effectual Crime.</P>
<PB N="66" REF="36">
<P>Yet, as it is natural to complain on the like occa&s;ions, I found no little eloquence for that purpo&s;e. And I was reproaching the Duke with the injuries he did me, when I heard a great noi&s;e in the Street. I was concern'd too much at my own Affairs to be able to think af|ter the cares of others. The Duke look't out of the window to &s;ee if the di&s;order was cau&s;ed by his Footmen. They did not begin it, but hearing from far, that it hap|pen'd before my Door, they run thither, and not di&s;covering the Attaquers from the Attaqu'd fell in|differently upon all they met. Du|ring this quarel, I di&s;cern'd a voice that was not unknown to me, and call'd upon all tho&s;e Servants my Husband had left with me by their &s;everal Names. They could not an&s;wer &s;ince I had turn'd 'em a|way. You mu&s;t judge what &s;ur|prize this was to me. I could not
<PB N="67" REF="36">imagine whom it &s;hould be, but that Night was full of &s;urpri&s;es and unlucky adventures to me.</P>
<P>Whil&s;t I was hearkning to the Voice, I &s;aw my Husband come in like one who had lo&s;t his rea&s;on with anger. He took what was next his hand, and without having any re|gard to the Per&s;on of the Duke, had fell furiou&s;ly upon him, had not his lo&s;s of blood thrown him into a great weakne&s;s: When he had re|cover'd from this fainting fit they carryed him to his Chamber; his Servants put him to bed, and I heard by his <HI>Valet de Chambre,</HI> that he had been two days at <HI>Paris,</HI> and came alone with intention to &s;ur|prize me. I could not learn more from this <HI>Valet,</HI> who apparently knew not what he told me. This was enough to make me believe I had occa&s;ion of the protection of the Duke. He promis'd it me, and I &s;ent to de&s;ire a relation of my
<PB N="68" REF="37">Husbands to come, and know from him the rea&s;on of his emportment. This Relation, who had always a great kindne&s;s for me, arriv'd as the Chirurgions had made the fir&s;t Ap|plication of their Remedies to his Wounds. To what danger &s;oever &s;peaking much, expos'd my Hus|bands Life, he told his Relation ne|verthele&s;s all that he knew, he de|&s;ir'd him I might be &s;hut up, till he had re&s;olv'd with my Family in what manner to treat me. But, Madam, it is time I &s;hould let you know what had animated him &s;o furiou&s;ly again&s;t me. I have told you he was return'd to give an ac|count of his Expedition to the King. His Maje&s;ty receiv'd him very fa|vourably, and permitted him to &s;tay Eight days at <HI>Paris.</HI> He had pa&s;t two entirely at the Pre&s;idents who had omitted nothing might fully me in his opinion; and to render me yet more culpable to the eyes of
<PB N="69" REF="37">the World, they con&s;ulted my Hus|band &s;hould make him&s;elf be at|tack'd by People hir'd for that pur|po&s;e, that &s;o they might have an opportunity to report, that I had caus'd him to be a&s;&s;a&s;inated: Chance permitted the Dukes Footman to Wound him, whil&s;t his Ma&s;ter was at my Hou&s;e. He thought never|thele&s;s to make no other u&s;e of this impo&s;ture than to my di&s;advantage, and complaining of &s;o criminal a de&s;ign, he notwith&s;tanding ju&s;tified the Duke; being &s;atisfied that al|though he &s;hould accu&s;e him of a &s;hare in it, 'twould be difficult to make it believ'd. My Husbands relation prudently advis'd me to retire, before he &s;hould receive fre&s;h orders to &s;ecure me. I follow'd his coun&s;el; I brought away my Jewels and &s;ome Mony, and went to the counte&s;s<HI>'s de</HI> &mdash; who re|ceiv'd me very generou&s;ly: after &s;he had &s;aid what might replace
<PB N="70" REF="38">&s;ome tranquility in my mind, &s;he dexterou&s;ly took the time to &s;peak of the little care I had had to pre|&s;erve my Reputation, but in &s;o good and &s;weet a manner, that &s;he made me repent of it without con|fu&s;ion.</P>
<P>My Husband's Wound was not found &s;o dangerous as was imagin'd; but as his illne&s;s dimini&s;ht, his an|ger became more violent, and I &s;aw my &s;elf in a nece&s;&s;ity of leaving not only <HI>Paris</HI> but the whole Kingdom. I therefore re&s;olved to put my &s;elf under the Protection of the Dutche&s;s of <HI>Savoy.</HI> The Duke approved my de&s;ign, and the Charitable Counte&s;s gave me Letters for all the Court, where were the great Habitudes.</P>
<P>I made my &s;elf be call'd Madam <HI>de Courcilly,</HI> and I departed in <HI>Ly|on</HI> Coach, with a Maid I never &s;aw before. I got into the Coach, and a Man call'd <HI>Bernard</HI> who&s;e fidelity and di&s;cretion I was &s;atis|fied
<PB N="71" REF="38">in. We took up Three places, and the other were fill'd by the <HI>Abbe&s;s de Bly,</HI> Two Nuns, and a Rich Banker of <HI>Genova</HI> call'd <HI>Hie|ronymo Spichetti.</HI> You may gue&s;s, Madam, by all that I have told you, how my mind was bu&s;ied in the&s;e &s;ad adventures, and tho&s;e I was to be expo&s;ed too; but it anger'd me when I reflected how ea&s;ily the Duke had left me, which was more in&s;upportable to me, than all my Husbands ill u&s;age. The thoughts of &s;eeing my &s;elf without Lovers di&s;comforted me, for by the cold|ne&s;s of his Adieu, I reckon'd him no longer in the number of tho&s;e that were &s;o.</P>
<P>The&s;e fooli&s;h reflections kept me in a profound con&s;ideration, when the <HI>Abbe&s;s de Bly</HI> had a fancy to re|gal the Company with a Story of me. I had the plea&s;ure to hear her tell it from one end to the other with &s;uch fal&s;e and ridiculous cir|cum&s;tances,
<PB N="72" REF="39">that I thought Twenty times to interrupt her and inform her of the truth. Judge in what concern I was when &s;he addre&s;t her words to me, to make me yield my &s;elf the mo&s;t culpable Woman in the World. In fine I was reduced to tell a &s;tory full of invented ad|ventures, to force 'em to end an entertainment gave me &s;o much puni&s;hment to her.</P>
<P>Here, Madam, is the place that you mu&s;t mark the fatality of my Stars. Scarce were we arriv'd at the fir&s;t Dining place, when I &s;aw the Marque&s;s <HI>de Saint</HI> &mdash; com|ing in. You may imagin perhaps he came by my Order. No a&s;&s;u|redly, Madam, chance alone was concern'd in it. He went to <HI>Savoy</HI> from the King to compliment their Royal Highne&s;&s;es upon the recovery of the Dutche&s;s of <HI>Savoy</HI> from a Sickne&s;s, 'twas thought &s;he would have dy'd of. 'Twas true that he
<PB N="73" REF="39">under&s;tanding there was place for another in the Coach, he took it and left the Po&s;t, not know|ing he &s;hould there meet me. When I heard this News I rea&s;on'd with <HI>Bernard,</HI> whether I ought to di&s;cover my &s;elf, and we concluded that what care &s;oever I &s;hould take 'twas impo&s;&s;ible to hide my &s;elf from his penetration. I got again neverthele&s;s into the Coach, without di&s;covering my &s;elf to him, and lea&s;t he &s;hould know my Voice, I did not &s;peak. But the <HI>Abbe&s;s de Bly</HI> did not the like; we had not gone half a League before &s;he had ask'd the Marque&s;s if he had not heard the Story of that Lady who would have a&s;&s;a&s;inated her Husband. He An&s;wer'd that he had not. The good <HI>Abbe&s;s</HI> who could &s;ay it by Heart, began it again, not omit|ting one word from the manner I had heard her tell it before.</P>
<P>When &s;he came to name me, the
<PB N="74" REF="40">Marquis impos'd &s;ilence upon her, &s;aying, that if &s;he had a mind to tell Stories, there was Subject e|nough in her convent, without &s;earching in another place. This An&s;wer had all the effect that I could hope for. The <HI>Abbe&s;s</HI> held her Tongue, and there was a great &s;i|lence that la&s;ted the re&s;t of the day.</P>
<P>I confe&s;s to you, Madam, I found my &s;elf very much oblig'd to the Marquis to have freed me &s;o hone&s;t|ly from the fal&s;ities of the <HI>Abbe&s;s.</HI> Chance would have it, that before we arriv'd to the place where we was to lie, the company was oblig'd to get out of the Coach to pa&s;s a dif|ficult place, becau&s;e it was night. I remain'd in the Coach and the Man de&s;cended.</P>
<P>The Marquis apprehending, by the manner of behaviour <HI>Bernard</HI> &s;hew'd me, that he was my Ser|vant, ask't him who I was, and 'twas impo&s;&s;ible to have more joy
<PB N="75" REF="40">than appear'd in him, when he learnt that I was the &s;ame per&s;on for whom he had &s;o much e&s;teem, and inclination, and on who&s;e &s;ide he had engag'd again&s;t the <HI>Abbe&s;s.</HI> He was too di&s;creet to &s;peak to me be|fore a favourable opportunity.</P>
<P>When we arriv'd where we were to pa&s;s the Night, the Marquis gave me his hand as to an unknown Lady, to help me out of the Coach, and conducting me to the Chamber where the Nuns and I were to re&s;t, he told me very &s;oftly of the joy he had to meet me, and the de&s;ire he had to &s;erve me. <HI>Hieronymo Spichetti</HI> did not &s;hew le&s;s care for me than the Marquis, but I received 'em not with &s;o much complai&s;ance. This gave occa&s;ion enough to the <HI>Abbe&s;s de Bly</HI> and her Nuns to talk, who found with <HI>Chagrin,</HI> they had more time allow'd 'em for their Prayers than they de&s;ir'd.</P>
<P>At la&s;t we arriv'd at <HI>Lyons,</HI> where
<PB N="76" REF="41">having no acquaintance, the Mar|que&s;s and I went to lodge at <HI>Belle-Cour</HI> a good hand&s;ome place, that the <HI>Italian</HI> carry'd us to. This Man according to the maxims of his Country ob&s;erv'd us carefully; and judging both by the way of the Marque&s;s and my proceedings with him, that we had been before ac|quainted did not doubt but we had agreed upon this rencounter. He di&s;&s;embled it, as well as the &s;enti|ments which rendr'd him &s;o curious about my Affairs, and there grew a friend&s;hip between him and the Marque&s;s.</P>
<P>As it would not have been decent I &s;hould have arriv'd at <HI>Turin</HI> with the Marque&s;s, <HI>Spichetti</HI> told him he would take care of my Journy, and &s;ave me the &s;atigue of pa&s;&s;ing the Mountains, which on the &s;ide of <HI>France</HI> are very inconvenient for their height, and exce&s;&s;ive cold. Altho he had not an entire know|ledge
<PB N="77" REF="41">of my Affairs he neverthele&s;s knew that I fled from the per&s;ecuti|on of my Husband. So that joyn|ing to it the opinion he had of my &s;ilence whil&s;t the <HI>Abbe&s;s</HI> was telling my Story, he doubted no longer of the truth. He did not explain his thoughts, neither to me nor the Marque&s;s, to whom he only &s;aid he would conduct me through <HI>Pro|vence,</HI> and enter <HI>Savoy</HI> by <HI>Italy,</HI> and that leaving <HI>Lyon</HI> at the &s;ame time, and taking our pa&s;&s;age on the <HI>Rh&ocirc;ne</HI> we &s;hould get to <HI>Turin</HI> a Fortnight after his arrival.</P>
<P>I was not &s;orry to &s;ee <HI>Provence,</HI> and &s;o much the more willingly I accepted of <HI>Spichetti</HI>'s propo&s;ition, becau&s;e he told me his Affairs call'd him likewi&s;e to <HI>Turin,</HI> at the &s;ame time I intended to be there. We embarqu'd upon the <HI>Rh&ocirc;ne</HI> as far as <HI>Avignon.</HI></P>
<P>I mu&s;t not forget to tell you, Ma|dam, <HI>Bernard</HI> was not a little trou|bled
<PB N="78" REF="42">to &s;ee me yield my &s;elf &s;o ea|&s;ily to the conduct of <HI>Spichetti.</HI> The Affection he had for me made him &s;ee what was my intere&s;t, and murmur more than once at my im|prudence, but I could not e&s;cape fulfilling my de&s;tiny.</P>
<P>When we were at <HI>Avignon, Spi|chetti</HI> lodg'd me in a very fine Building belonging to a Friend of his. 'Twas &s;ituated in the Pope's Territories two Miles from the Town, who&s;e &s;plendour he took care to &s;hew me.</P>
<P>When Three Days were pas'd I let him know it was time to be gone. I &s;hall not take the care, Madam, &s;aid he, to deliver you my &s;elf into my Rivals Arms. I was &s;truck at the&s;e words like a Tunder|bolt, and they made me call to mind all the Mi&s;chiefs I could fear.</P>
<P>They were follow'd by an infi|nite number of others, which <HI>Spi|chetti</HI> made u&s;e of to declare his
<PB N="79" REF="42">pa&s;&s;ion for me, and that there was no difficulty but he would under|take to make him&s;elf be belov'd by me, nor no violence that he &s;hould not be carry'd to, if I was not touch'd at his Pa&s;&s;ion. I &s;eem'd as if I did not believe he &s;poke &s;inceerly, I turn'd what he &s;aid into Gallantry, but I had not much time to rally, for he never left me, and his per&s;ecution went &s;o far, that I &s;ound my &s;elf oblig'd more than once to run to the wor&s;t ex|tremities, thereby to e&s;cape the ef|fects of a Brutal emportment he &s;hew'd towards me. Till now, Madam I had been but too &s;en&s;ible of the plea&s;ures of Loving and being Be|lov'd; I was now to be puni&s;h'd for it by the torment an aver&s;ion cau&s;es.</P>
<P>I had a Mortal hatred for <HI>Spi|chetti,</HI> and if I made him any appear|ance of &s;atisfaction it enlarg'd his hopes, he grew very much irritat|ed and I &s;aw that nothing but a Mi|racle,
<PB N="80" REF="43">or the end of my life could terminate my misfortunes. <HI>Bernard</HI> who had e&s;tabli&s;h't him&s;elf a right of advi&s;ing in all my Actions, per|&s;ecuted me on his &s;ide for not following his coun&s;el, and I con|fe&s;s to you, I never found my &s;elf in &s;o ill a condition. In fine <HI>Hieronymo,</HI> calling me one day by my true Name, told me he was in&s;tructed in all my adven|tures, and if I determined not to acknowledg the Pa&s;&s;ion he had for me, he would adverti&s;e my Hus|band I was in his hands, and whil&s;t he was expected I &s;hould be &s;o carefully ob&s;erv'd, that it was impo&s;&s;ible for me to e&s;cape.</P>
<P>I ob&s;tinately told him he was mi&s;taken in me, but <HI>I</HI> could not per&s;wade him &s;o. He was igno|rant of nothing in my Affairs, and <HI>I</HI> have not yet known from whence he had &s;o perfect an intel|ligence. The mi&s;erable condition
<PB N="81" REF="43"><HI>I</HI> was reduc'd to made me think of nothing but death: and <HI>I</HI> re&s;olv'd it rather than con&s;ent to &s;atisfie the Brutal Pa&s;&s;ion of the <HI>Italian:</HI> yet as <HI>I</HI> was not ignorant of being ob|lig'd to undergo any thing might free me from his per&s;uit, before <HI>I</HI> abandon'd my life to my de&s;pair, <HI>I</HI> examin'd what might contribute to my liberty. <HI>I</HI> immediately took my Jewels out of my cabinet, and Bills of Exchange for a con&s;iderable Sum, with what Mony <HI>I</HI> had le&s;t, and the Letters of recommenda|tion to the Dutche&s;s of <HI>Savoy. I</HI> put all into <HI>Bernards</HI> hands, <HI>Spichetti</HI> not perceiving it, and telling him that he &s;hould for the future regulate my conduct, de&s;ir'd him to find out &s;ome means to guard me from the violences my Tyrant menac'd me with. We agreed, that to do it with more ea&s;e, he &s;hould &s;eem to leave me, he did it in appearance, and brib'd the Gardiner of the Hou&s;e to
<PB N="82" REF="44">give me intelligence of what he &s;hould advance towards my quiet.</P>
<P>The time that <HI>Spichetti</HI> had appointed was approaching and <HI>I</HI> &s;aw not my Affairs in a better condition, when it came in my mind to demand of him yet &s;ome few days. He ought to accord 'em me he thought, becau&s;e <HI>I</HI> made him under&s;tand the Conti|nuance of his Love began to concern me. 'Twas at this time that imagining to per&s;wade me by his Riches, he made me conceive Ideas that with tho&s;e of another di&s;po|&s;ition might have &s;erv'd in&s;tead of merit; but <HI>I</HI> was not to be prevail'd upon by the offers he made me. There was but one Day to arrive before that which <HI>Spichetti</HI> expected with &s;o much impetience, when <HI>I</HI> was inform'd every thing was ready for my e&s;cape, and <HI>I</HI> had only to de&s;cend by a Ladder of Ropes &s;hould be
<PB N="83" REF="44">fa&s;ten'd to my Window that lookt into the Garden, and that I &s;hould find in the Gardiners Hou&s;e the Habits of Two Men for me and my Chamber-maid, and that <HI>Ber|nard</HI> would expect me with Two Hor&s;es a Hundred paces from the Garden. Altho this project was well laid, the &s;ucce&s;s might have been thought more difficult then it appear'd, if we had reflected that <HI>Hieronyme</HI> was an <HI>Italian</HI> in Love, Jealous, and Su&s;pitious, and that they are terrible Mon&s;ters to allay in an affair of this impor|tance; but in great dangers great re&s;olutions mu&s;t be taken. An accident happen'd which &s;mooth'd the difficulty. <HI>Spichetti</HI> was ta|ken with a violent Feavour, and tho he was light-headed did not want rea&s;on enough to order, that <HI>I</HI> &s;hould be clo&s;e lockt up in my Chamber. This care did not hinder me from e&s;caping the way
<PB N="84" REF="45">that was propos'd, and we rid all Night without knowing which way we went, at la&s;t when Day began to break, we found our &s;elves on the top of a High Mountain from whence we di&s;|cover'd a number of others, that made a very agreeable &s;olitude. We travell'd till Sun ri&s;e a Road very little beaten, which not long after led us to a Hermitage in a &s;olitary Situation.</P>
<P>The Charitable Hermits I &s;ound there, receiv'd me as well as po&s;&s;i|bly they could. I had never before been on Hor&s;eback; I was tyr'd, and in nece&s;&s;ity to repo&s;e my &s;elf, I de|manded a place proper for it, and the mo&s;t ancient of the Hermits car|ried me into a neat Cell, where I &s;lept for &s;ome time. When the In|quietudes that employ'd my mind had waken'd me, I rejoyn'd the Hermits who had provided a little repa&s;t of Hearbs and Fruits, and the
<PB N="85" REF="45">neatne&s;s of it &s;upply'd the abund|ance. 'Twas in the beginning of Summer; if I had had the lea&s;t incli|nation to have pas'd my life in a De|&s;art, free from the Noi&s;e and Com|merce of the World, I &s;hould have thought this &s;olitude very delight|ful; but I was not in a condition to hearken peaceably to the &s;inging of the Birds, and the eccho's of the ad|jacent places, or yet to contemplate the Beauty of the Rocks. Cares of another nature had &s;ufficiently fill'd my brea&s;t. The Hermit that undertook to entertain me, had &s;oon perceiv'd I had great <HI>Chagrins;</HI> he took the opportunity to &s;ay what he thought proper to Admini&s;ter Con|&s;olation to me. I ob&s;erv'd more un|der&s;tanding and politene&s;s in his di&s;cour&s;e than the Hermits com|monly have; but that which &s;ur|pris'd me mo&s;t was, that after he had attentively look't upon me, he told me I wore a Habit that did not be|long
<PB N="86" REF="46">to my Sex; I might have thought that he had di&s;cover'd it by my Face and Shape; but continu|ing to look upon me, he added, that Love had been the occa&s;ion of all the misfortunes of my life; I gave him the minute of my Birth ac|cording to his command, and he told me a great many things in general that he advis'd me to endeavour to e&s;cape. Although he &s;poke to me after the mo&s;t &s;erious manner, I made it a &s;ubject of Laughter, not being able to ima|gine that being born a minute &s;oo|ner or later would make me ei|ther happy, or mi&s;erable, never|thele&s;s he told me much of the time to come, and his Predictions were not fal&s;e. After this I was thinking to leave the Hermit, and ask him to what place it was be&s;t for me to retire, to have intelli|gence of my Affairs, when my Chamber-maid who fell a &s;leep
<PB N="87" REF="46">upon the Ground, was &s;tung by a <HI>Scorpion:</HI> This accident oblig'd me to pa&s;s two days in the De&s;ert, during which time this Hermit had &s;o much con&s;ideration for me as to tell me the &s;tory of his life, and made him&s;elf appear a Man of Quality. His Life was compos'd of a number of &s;trange accidents; but I have &s;o much to tell you that concerns me that I &s;hall only &s;peak of the Her|mit in matters nece&s;&s;ary to my reci|tal.</P>
<P>In fine, my dear Child, &s;aid he, you &s;ee an unhappy man who gave him|&s;elf entirely over to the World, and that when he remembers it, has a true &s;orrow, for the wandrings were occa&s;ion'd by tho&s;e dangerous Max|ims. The knowledge I have of the di&s;graces accompany tho&s;e who are not di&s;gu&s;ted with it, makes me have a great Compa&s;&s;ion for you, and in&s;pires me with a de&s;ign to &s;erve you. I have a Woman my
<PB N="88" REF="47">Friend two Leagues from hence, at who&s;e Hou&s;e you may pa&s;s your time with more Convenience, and Decency than in this retirement. 'Tis there that I would advi&s;e you to attend the News of what you de&s;ire to be informed in, and I in the mean time will go &s;pend &s;ome few days at <HI>Avignon;</HI> I will learn what is become of <HI>Spichetti,</HI> and will e&s;tabli&s;h a Commerce with a Friend of his, who is mine al&s;o, that I may know what &s;teps he follows. I mu&s;t tell you likewi&s;e that the place I ad|vi&s;e you to make your Sanctuary, is not le&s;s agreeable than this, and that it is famous in above one particular. The Name of it ought not to be unknown to you; 'tis <HI>Vauclu&s;e</HI> which was formerly the abode of the famous <HI>Petrarque,</HI> of the Charming <HI>Laura.</HI> You will &s;ee that marvellous Spring, which has been the occa&s;ion of
<PB N="89" REF="47">&s;o many &s;ine Ver&s;es; but if the&s;e Objects give you &s;o much concern as to recall into your memory the Amours of the Poet and his Mi&s;tre&s;s, tho&s;e very &s;ame Objects, whereof nothing remains but &s;ad foot-&s;teps, and confu&s;ion, may let you know that every thing in the World is peri&s;hable. I de&s;ir'd the Hermit to tell me the &s;tory of <HI>Petrarque's</HI> Amours, and when I had heard it I had then a greater de&s;ire to &s;ee the place of his abode. We parted; I took a Letter he gave me for his Friend, and <HI>Petrarque</HI>'s Poems in <HI>Italian,</HI> and gave him in a thou&s;and thanks the acknow|ledgment I had of his goodne&s;s. He very much advis'd <HI>Bernard</HI> not to abandon me, and &s;hew'd him the way we were to take to <HI>Vauclu&s;e.</HI></P>
<P>In the Evening we arriv'd at Madam <HI>de Ma&s;elons,</HI> who&s;e hou&s;e is but a quarter of a League from
<PB N="90" REF="48">the Fountain. This Lady though advanc'd in Years, had yet a good Meen, and &s;ome remains of Beauty that &s;hew'd what an a|greeable Per&s;on &s;he had been; She was decent without magnifi|cence, and had a great deal of politne&s;s without any affectati|on.</P>
<P>I had &s;ent <HI>Bernard</HI> to deliver her the Letter from her Friend, and &s;he had receiv'd it with great joy. I had the good fortune not to di&s;plea&s;e her, and &s;he &s;hew'd me a thou&s;and &s;igns of re&s;pect. The good Hermite, who had told her by the Letter what I had con&s;ided to him about my Qua|lity, di&s;cover'd al&s;o my di&s;gui&s;e, and ingag'd her to keep both with &s;ecre&s;ie. She promis'd it me, and I have not had rea&s;on to com|plain of her want of di&s;creti|on.</P>
<P>When I arriv'd at her hou&s;e,
<PB N="91" REF="48">&s;he pre&s;ented her Daughter to me, whom I &s;aluted <HI>en Cavalier,</HI> with the <HI>Emberta&s;s,</HI> you may imagine a Compliment gave me I had not been accu&s;tom'd to. She was of a &s;urpri&s;ing Beauty, and I after|wards knew that there was not fewer Charms in her Wit than Face; yet the fir&s;t Civilities be|ing agreeably pa&s;s'd on all &s;ides, I remarqu'd a profound melan|choly both in the Mother and Daughter, that extreamly &s;urpris'd me; I was not long ignorant of the rea&s;on, for the Daughter was in mourning, and the Mother could not think of her di&s;quiet without &s;hedding Tears at every Moment. 'Twas for the death of a Son that was kill'd at <HI>Candia;</HI> they both &s;poke of him as a Man of an extraordinary Me|rit.</P>
<P>The Habitude I had contracted together by melancholy having
<PB N="92" REF="49">given a little moderation to my natural Gaiety, I had a little con|formity to the condition Madam <HI>de Mezelon</HI> and her amiable Daugh|ter were in. 'Twas this that made a &s;trict Friend&s;hip among&s;t us, but truely out of different Motives, for the Mother knew who I was; but the Daughter was ignorant of it, and &s;uffer'd her &s;elf to be &s;urpris'd with a violent inclination for me, which &s;he &s;trove again&s;t with all the rea&s;ons that might repul&s;e it; was rather with my Stars than my merit that made me meet with Love in any &s;hape that I took. When we had pa&s;s'd a few days at Madam <HI>Me|zelon's,</HI> I &s;ent <HI>Bernard</HI> to <HI>Turin,</HI> to hear &s;ome news of the Marque&s;s <HI>de</HI> St.&mdash; and to &s;ee if there was any appear|ance of the pa&s;&s;ing my time agreea|bly during my Exile. I writ al&s;o to <HI>Paris,</HI> and Madam <HI>de Mezelon</HI> gave me an Addre&s;s to <HI>Sorgues</HI> to receive the an&s;wers of my Letters.</P>
<PB N="93" REF="49">
<P>Poor <HI>Bernard</HI> could not leave me without &s;hewing a &s;en&s;ible re|gret at it; he came back Twenty times from my Anti-Chamber to take his leave, and Ten times from places more di&s;tant, his affection always furni&s;hing him with new Coun&s;els either about my health, &s;afety, or conduct.</P>
<P>I went to &s;ee <HI>Vauclu&s;e;</HI> and his lovely Seat made me have great re|flections upon all the places, <HI>Pe|trarque</HI> and <HI>Laura</HI> had made choice of to pa&s;s in a happy Retirement the &s;weete&s;t moments of their Loves and Life. I was &s;aying to my &s;elf I never injoy'd any true happine&s;s; that the only de&s;ire of plea&s;ing had always buried me, and I never knew the delightful Charms were cau&s;ed by the Union of two hearts, &s;incerely concern'd for each other.</P>
<P>The lovely <HI>Feliza</HI> (for &s;o Madam <HI>de Mezelon's</HI> Daughter was call'd)
<PB N="94" REF="50">was &s;erv'd by a Gentlewoman of wit enough, and who&s;e Name was <HI>Th&eacute;|r&eacute;&s;ia,</HI> the&s;e young Women took all the care imaginable that I &s;hould not be tired in their Company, and we went every day to <HI>Vauclu&s;e,</HI> becau&s;e this place in&s;pir'd us with very agreeable Conver&s;ation upon what had formerly pa&s;s'd here as was reported. I under&s;tood <HI>Italian,</HI> which <HI>Feliza</HI> and <HI>Th&eacute;r&eacute;&s;ia</HI> did not well enough, for <HI>Petrarques</HI> Poems I explain'd to 'em, with no little plea&s;ure, what he had writ with the greate&s;t tenderne&s;s. <HI>Feliza</HI> who di&s;cover'd not le&s;s in hearkning to me; often ca&s;t &s;uch langui&s;hing looks at me, that I was learned e|nough in that dumb language, to comprehend without any other ex|plication the meaning of her Eyes; but I counter&s;itted not to under|&s;tand 'em, and a thou&s;and times I wi&s;h'd, &s;he might never have a de|&s;ire to make more open di&s;covery of her Sentiments.</P>
<PB N="95" REF="50">
<P>All my wi&s;hes were to no pur|po&s;e, and the too kind <HI>Feliza</HI> could not hinder her &s;elf from declaring &s;he lov'd me. I receiv'd it with as much confu&s;ion as &s;he had to tell it me; and as Lovers are very inge|nious towards their own torment, &s;he per&s;waded her &s;elf my heart was prevented by another Object, &s;o that adding Jealou&s;ie to Love, &s;he contracted a <HI>Chagrin,</HI> that dimi|ni&s;h't a little of her Beauty, and made me &s;en&s;ible of a true Com|pa&s;&s;ion.</P>
<P>Madam <HI>de Mezelon</HI> perceiv'd as well as I the rea&s;on of her melancholy, for that Lady was not ignorant in the My&s;teries of Love; but &s;eeing nothing redoubtable in that her Daughter had for me, was unwilling to deceive her at the co&s;t of my Se|cret. I could not for my part re&s;olve to abu&s;e her any longer, I went one day into her Chamber, after I had de&s;ir'd Madam <HI>Mezelon</HI> to employ
<PB N="96" REF="51"><HI>Th&eacute;r&eacute;&s;ia</HI> during my di&s;cour&s;e with <HI>Feliza.</HI> I &s;ound her alone, her head leaning on her left Arm, and her Eyes fixed upon the ground, and in a po|&s;ture in&s;ine altogether &s;it for the De|&s;cription of a very melancholy Crea|ture. The habit that covered my Sex, cau&s;ing her to be a little &s;crupulous of remaining alone with me as I de&s;ir'd, &s;he ro&s;e to call <HI>Th&eacute;r&eacute;&s;ia;</HI> but I &s;topt her by her Gown. I conjure you, my dear <HI>Feliza,</HI> &s;aid I, by all the marks of Friend&s;hip you have hitherto &s;hew'd me, to grant me one audience that none may be a witne&s;s to. Ala&s;s! an&s;wer'd <HI>Feliza,</HI> what can you tell me that my misfortune has not al|ready fore&s;een? I will, reply'd I, alter the opinion you have that I am not &s;en&s;ible enough of the kind|ne&s;s you have made appear to me, and give you the greate&s;t confirma|tion of mine that you can ever re|ceive.</P>
<PB N="97" REF="51">
<P>At the&s;e words &s;he look't upon me to &s;ee if &s;he could di&s;cover by my Eyes what I had to &s;ay, and by the langui&s;hing of hers, 'twas ea&s;ie for me to know, that her heart was truly concern'd: At la&s;t I confe&s;t to her I could an&s;wer her love only with Friend&s;hip, and di&s;cover'd that I was a woman; but, Madam, this &s;ecret was &s;o far from ree&s;tabli&s;hing a Calm in her brea&s;t, that at this Moment it rais'd a greater trouble; the confu&s;ion &s;he had for di&s;covering me her Senti|ments, made her blu&s;h; and by a particular Novelty, &s;he &s;hew'd a regret for a pa&s;&s;ion &s;he found it impo&s;&s;ible to get rid off, though &s;he had ta&s;ted nothing but the ri|gours of it, and which &s;he knew very well I was incapable to an|&s;wer. I did my utmo&s;t to con|vince her, that a reciprocal Friend|&s;hip was the greate&s;t and mo&s;t &s;olid plea&s;ure. She could &s;carcely be|lieve
<PB N="98" REF="52">me; neverthele&s;s her rea&s;on in a few days brought that to pa&s;s my advice could not obtain in this Conver&s;ation. She overcame the force of her inclination, but I knew when I &s;aw her next, it had co&s;t her &s;ome Tears.</P>
<P>Since this time &s;he accu&s;tom'd her &s;elf to my Sex, we pa&s;t more than a Fortnight in Tranquility and Plea&s;ure. One Evening as we were at the Fountain of <HI>Vauclu&s;e,</HI> after we had entertain'd our &s;elves upon different Subjects, I fell a &s;leep, my head upon <HI>Feliza's</HI> knees, when two Cavaliers were pa&s;&s;ing by; <HI>Feliza</HI> knew 'em not becau&s;e their heads were a little turn'd from us, and they were not quite &s;o near as we might di&s;cern their Features; one of 'em neverthele&s;s recall'd in her the Idea &s;he had of her dear Brother, whom &s;he lov'd with &s;uch tenderne&s;s. She wakened me to &s;ee him, and tho'
<PB N="99" REF="52">he was at a di&s;tance, he &s;eem'd to me very hand&s;ome.</P>
<P>When we came back to our Ap|partment, we went into Madam <HI>de Mezelons</HI> Chamber, and found her loaded with grief. Ah Knight, &s;aid &s;he (for &s;o I made my &s;elf be call'd) am not I very unhappy? my affliction began to yield to the power of time, and I was making a rea&s;on of nece&s;&s;ity to &s;uffer pati|ently the lo&s;s of my Son, when it was renew'd by telling me he was &s;een to pa&s;s by not a hundred pa|ces from my Hou&s;e. He was de&s;crib'd to me in the &s;ame guarb he had when he left me; this ten|der Mother could not re&s;train her tears from &s;o &s;ad and dear a re|membrance. We acquainted her with what we &s;aw, and that quite di&s;con&s;olated her; I had much a|doe to appea&s;e her trouble when I told her there were many People &s;o like, that every day &s;ome body
<PB N="100" REF="53">or other was deceiv'd. I had en|tertain'd her till Midnight, when retiring to my Chamber, the Por|ter brought me this Note that was put into his hands to deliver to me. This was the Contents.</P>
<LETTER LANG="eng">
<P>I <HI>Will not enter into a Hou&s;e that you have di&s;honour'd, before I have taken away your life to puni&s;h you for your Ingratitude. My Eyes have convinc'd me of the &s;hame which honour obliges me to wa&s;h out with your Blood, and I have from other hands too certain te&s;timonys of your loo&s;e Conduct to be deceiv'd. I will expect you to morrow at Sun ri&s;e at the place where you was ye&s;ter|day with my unworthy Si&s;ter. Do not fail to be there, and give me an opportunity for my ju&s;t Revenge; if you would not have me take a more violent re&s;olution.</HI></P>
</LETTER>
<PB N="101" REF="53">
<P>Judge, Madam, with what &s;ur|prize I found I had an Affair upon my hands. I ea&s;ily apprehended what had drawn it upon me; I went immediately to &s;hew the Pa|per to Madam <HI>de Mezelon,</HI> who receiv'd all joy imaginable by it; &s;he expected day-light with great impatience that &s;he might go to the place of Combat. She went thither alone; for all &s;he was his Mother, She was fond to &s;uffer the reproaches of her Son, for it was he him&s;elf; &s;he &s;milingly hearken|ed to 'em, and you may believe &s;he was not angry to find her Son &s;o &s;en&s;ible of Honour. After &s;he had &s;uffer'd him to continue &s;ome time in his error, &s;he clear'd it by tel|ling him &s;ome part of my Adven|tures, and made him a Confident in the Secret of my Sex, known now to the Mother, the Daughter, and the Son. He increa&s;t very much the anger he had conceiv'd
<PB N="102" REF="54">to &s;ee his Si&s;ter &s;uffer a Man to &s;leep upon her knees; and added that he was coming to kill us both, but thinking that his Si&s;ter might be marryed in his ab&s;ence, he de|termin'd to inform him&s;elf before he &s;hould commit an action of &s;uch con&s;equence, and that for that purpo&s;e he had addre&s;t him&s;elf to one who had formerly been a Ser|vant in the Hou&s;e, and that this Man had told him that I was &s;een every day with <HI>Feliza</HI> about <HI>Vau|clu&s;e,</HI> and every body began to rai&s;e &s;candals upon it.</P>
<P>Madam <HI>de Mezelon</HI> told her Son a thou&s;and things to my advantage, and &s;he pre&s;ented him to me when &s;he had brought him home. The plea&s;ante&s;t thing that happen'd in all this was, that there was a re|port among the Servants that <HI>Me|zelon</HI> had &s;ent me a Challenge; &s;o that when he came to embrace me, the &s;ame People that thought
<PB N="103" REF="54">we were Enemies, fancy'd I was marry'd to his Si&s;ter, and that the thing was to be kept &s;e|cret.</P>
<P>After this fir&s;t interview, <HI>Me|zelon</HI> took &s;ome minutes to refre&s;h him&s;elf, and to put him&s;elf into a condition to appear before me. In fine, Madam, what &s;hall I &s;ay to you? The Brother was pro|vided with the &s;ame &s;entiments the Si&s;ter had for me when I fir&s;t &s;ought a retirement.</P>
<P>I was in <HI>Feliza's</HI> Chamber when he came in, and this charming Creature either by fore-knowledge or out of rallery, told me &s;he was very &s;ure her Brother would not &s;ee me long, without rendring Homage to my charms. As &s;oon as he was &s;ate down, well Bro|ther &s;aid &s;he, would not you think me to day as culpable as ye&s;ter|day, were you not inform'd of the truth of it? remember, Si&s;ter,
<PB N="102" REF="55">
<GAP DESC="duplicate" EXTENT="1 page">
<PB N="103" REF="55">
<GAP DESC="duplicate" EXTENT="1 page">
<PB N="104" REF="56">an&s;wer'd <HI>Mezelon,</HI> my anger did not fall upon you, and I believe I inwardly excus'd you. But I know not if I have not yet more rea&s;on to complain of that hand&s;ome Ca|valier then I had, and whether I &s;hall not drive my re&s;entment &s;o far as to give him a &s;econd a&s;&s;ignation at <HI>Petrarque's</HI> Fountain. As my Courage is not return'd &s;ince the la&s;t night, &s;aid I, you may come back and not find me there as you did this Morning. Seriou&s;ly, Ma|dam, reply'd <HI>Mezelon</HI> I believe you would have done as much had you been in my place. I &s;aw a hand|&s;ome Cavalier with my Si&s;ter, and in a very familiar po&s;ture. I enquir'd if they are Marry'd, and am told not. After this me|thinks &mdash; I do not blame your proceeding, &s;aid I interrupting him, I only de&s;ire it may &s;erve to let you know, that you mu&s;t never make any Judgment from appearances, let 'em be never &s;o great.</P>
<PB N="105" REF="56">
<P>This conver&s;ation which la&s;ted long, made me know that <HI>Mezelon</HI> had an infinite deal of Wit, and tho&s;e I have had &s;ince did not per|mit me to doubt that he had a true Pa&s;&s;ion for me. How was it po&s;|&s;ible, Madam, to breath the Air of <HI>Vauclu&s;e</HI> for Five or Six Months and not be touch'd with Love? What then pas'd in my Brea&s;t, made me agree, that I had never yet Lov'd any thing, and &s;uffer'd only people to admire me. I had not hitherto been &s;en&s;ible of the agree|able inquietudes the Heart po&s;&s;e&s;&s;es, when 'tis not yet fully determin'd to abandon it &s;elf to Love. I had been ignorant of tho&s;e &s;en&s;i|ble plea&s;ures it is penetrated with at the beginning of an Amour; tho&s;e nothings that cau&s;e &s;uch great ef|fects, and all tho&s;e things, in fine that the indifferent call follies, and the Lovers e&s;teem their mo&s;t a|greeable entertainment. I had for|got
<PB N="106" REF="57">all my misfortunes, and the only one I fear'd, was to be ob|lig'd to part from <HI>Mezelon.</HI> I would not &s;o much as think that <HI>Bernards</HI> return might engage me to make a journey; and I accomodat|ed my Morality to my Love. And &s;aid often to my &s;elf, that the hatred my Husband had &s;hew'd me, rendred the conjugal Vow a di&s;pen&s;able ob|ligation. In a word, Madam I only forbid what concern'd mine own Honour as well as his, and the re&s;t I e&s;teem'd as nothing.</P>
<P>Mo&s;t of the Women of the World if they were &s;inceer would confe&s;s ingeniou&s;ly as I do, for I do not believe I am the fir&s;t of this kind. <HI>Mezelon</HI>'s return drew a great many con&s;iderable Per&s;ons to their Hou&s;e. He was Extreamly be|lov'd, and every one who &s;aw him, took plea&s;ure to make him tell the Story of his fal&s;e Death and Re|&s;urrection, but we had not yet de|&s;ir'd him.</P>
<PB N="107" REF="57">
<P>One Evening when I was with his Mother, his Si&s;ter and another Relation, he was engag'd to make a recital of what happen'd to him in his Journey to <HI>Candia;</HI> he did it after this fa&s;hion.</P>
<FLOATEXT LANG="eng" TYPE="relation">
<HEAD><HI>MEZELON</HI>'s Relation.</HEAD>
<P>IEmbarqu'd in the Duke of <HI>Beau|fort</HI>'s Ve&s;&s;el, and I cannot tell your Ladies if the Sea was calm or agitated; I know only I was Sick as long as I was upon the Sea, that <HI>I</HI> never appear'd up|on the Deck before I arriv'd at <HI>Candia,</HI> and in the interval, what
<PB N="108" REF="58">I endur'd employ'd me &s;o much that it did not permit me to learn one &s;ingle Sea tearm. When <HI>I</HI> Landed my health was perfectly e&s;tabli&s;h't, and <HI>I</HI> appli'd my &s;elf much to the Per&s;on of the Ge|neral, who&s;e example gave &s;uf|ficient emulation to tho&s;e who would profit by it.</P>
<P>The Common reports have ta|ken care to inform you of all that pas'd during that Siege, &s;o that <HI>I</HI> &s;hall not enter into a de|&s;cription of things that mu&s;t of ne|ce&s;&s;ity be tire&s;ome when they are already known; and I am per&s;wad|ed 'tis neither the Hi&s;tory of the <HI>Turks,</HI> nor <HI>Venetians,</HI> but mine you de&s;ire to know. Learn then, I was dangerou&s;ly Wounded the la&s;t Day. I was near, as I &s;aid, to the Duke of <HI>Beaufort,</HI> who had &s;ent his adjutants to carry Orders in &s;everal places; he Commanded me al&s;o to go Order &s;ome Troops
<PB N="109" REF="58">to advance, for the relief of a Bat|talion that began to yield to the Enemy. I did not find him at my return, and at the &s;ame time a report of his being kil'd was &s;pread abroad among&s;t us. I threw my &s;elf into the crowd to &s;atisfie me; but I got only by it a blow on the Head with a Scymiter, and another on my Shoulders, which hinder'd me not neverthele&s;s from &s;taying with tho&s;e that enter'd la&s;t into the place.</P>
<P>The ill fortune of this day was the rea&s;on they would not receive me at my lodging. There was no choice to make, I found my &s;elf in great pain; my Wounds had not been dre&s;t, and I began to grow very weak. The Patriarch of <HI>Candia,</HI> and his Elde&s;t Daugh|ter meeting me in this condition, charitably carry'd me to their Hou&s;e, the &s;uccour they gave me
<PB N="100" REF="59">deliver'd me from a great embar|ra&s;ment; but that which was lucky to me at that moment, became afterwards my greate&s;t misfortune.</P>
<P>The Patriarch's Daughter, who&s;e Name was <HI>Eu&s;tochia,</HI> dre&s;t my Wounds, and gave me occa&s;ion to Commend her cares; but I al|ways held it for a Maxim, that the good turns which are receiv'd from a fair hand, oblige much more than tho&s;e which come from a deform'd Object. <HI>Eu&s;tochia</HI> was of the number of the latter, I never &s;aw &s;o frightful a Face; &s;he kept me as &s;ecret as was po&s;|&s;ible, and the <HI>French</HI> were on Board when &s;he had told me no|thing of it.</P>
<P>I was reported dead, becau&s;e I had not appear'd in the Town &s;ince the Day of the Battle, and my
<PB N="111" REF="59">Landlord dur&s;t not &s;ay he had refus'd me. Our Troops in fine were March'd away, and I &s;tay'd behind.</P>
<P>When I was cur'd, <HI>Eu&s;tochia</HI> pretended I &s;hould pay with my Heart, the good Offices &s;he had render'd me; but the bounds of my acknowledgments were not in her opinion &s;o far extended.</P>
<P><HI>Eu&s;tochia</HI> had a Si&s;ter to whom I &s;hould have been very glad to have ow'd my Life; and without this obligation I would have wil|lingly pay'd her, what was due to her Si&s;ter. I lookt upon her with plea&s;ure; <HI>Eu&s;tochia</HI> perceiv'd it, and judging of the Sentiments her Si&s;ter had in&s;pir'd me with, &s;he fell immediately from Love to Hatred, and to a de&s;ire of ru|ining me. As there are no Hearts more capable of Love than the
<PB N="112" REF="60"><HI>Greeks,</HI> &s;o there is nothing more Violent than their Hatred. The Town was &s;urrended you know, and the <HI>Turks</HI> enter'd it victori|ou&s;ly. <HI>Eu&s;tochia</HI> made an acquain|tance with a <HI>Janizary,</HI> who regretted extreamly a Brother he had lo&s;t in the la&s;t Battle. She inform'd her &s;elf how he was made, what Command he had in the Army, and told him &s;ome few Days after, &s;he believ'd it was I who had kil'd him.</P>
<P>The <HI>Janizary</HI> without making reflection that there was no like|lyhood &s;he could know what &s;he told him, thought of nothing but revenging his Brothers death, and &s;hew'd her the de&s;ire he had to have me in his Power; &s;he en|gag'd to deliver me, but her cha|ritable Si&s;ter having di&s;cover'd it, could not con&s;ent to &s;ee me pe|ri&s;h &s;o unju&s;tly; and as there was
<PB N="113" REF="60">no time to be omitted for my &s;afe+ty, &s;he took a re&s;olution equally Bold and Generous. She knew that her Father had not Force enough to re&s;i&s;t <HI>Eu&s;tochia's</HI> plea&s;ure, and that the mea&s;ure &s;he &s;hall take on that &s;ide would be to no purpo&s;e; &s;he was not ignorant al&s;o that the <HI>Grand-Vizier</HI> would not &s;uf|fer any Violence to be commit|ted again&s;t the treaty of Capitu|lation, particularly upon the Per|&s;on of a <HI>French-man.</HI> The&s;e rea|&s;ons oblig'd her to cau&s;e her &s;elf to be carry'd before the <HI>Vizier,</HI> and in <HI>Greek</HI> which he under&s;tood as well as the fair one perfectly &s;poke, &s;aid to him to this purpo&s;e.</P>
<P>I come, Great Lord, to demand Ju&s;tice of you, not again&s;t the Souldiers or Officers of your Ar|my, but again&s;t my own Si&s;ter, who by a ba&s;e Sentiment has been &s;educ'd to commit &s;o black
<PB N="114" REF="61">an action that I cannot think of it without horror. A young <HI>French-man</HI> remain'd in my Fa|thers Hou&s;e; it is true that my Si&s;ter &s;eeing him in danger took a great deal of care of him, and has cur'd him of Two dangerous Wounds, but would now make the Life &s;he has pre&s;erv'd be ta|ken from him, by a return as &s;hameful as dangerous to the <HI>French-man;</HI> and joyning Impo|&s;ture to Re&s;entment, &s;he has made the Janizary <HI>Achidec</HI> believe that the unhappy <HI>French-man</HI> had kil'd his Brother in the la&s;t Battle, and has promis'd to deliver him the innocent <HI>Victim,</HI> which &s;he Sacri|fices rather to her own revenge than the grief of <HI>Achidec.</HI> Be|gin to e&s;tabli&s;h here, Great Lord, Laws of equity, and let my Si&s;ter receive your Orders from you, before &s;he has lei&s;ure to execute her cruel re&s;olutions.</P>
<PB N="115" REF="61">
<P><HI>Augu&s;ta</HI> (which was the Name of my deliverer) &s;poke the&s;e words with &s;o much Zeal and Grace, that the <HI>Grand-Vizier</HI> was per&s;waded. He &s;ent immediately to me an Officer with Twenty Souldiers, and they arriv'd very luckily for me; &s;ince an hour later the Compa&s;&s;ion of <HI>Agu&s;ta</HI> had been to no purpo&s;e. I appear'd before the <HI>Grand-Vizier</HI> whom I did not di&s;plea&s;e. He un|der&s;tands <HI>French</HI> well enough but does not &s;peak it. Altho I did not Sing very well, <HI>Eu&s;tochia</HI> and <HI>Au|gu&s;ta</HI> had often found my Voice a|greeable enough to be &s;atisfied with it, the la&s;t of the&s;e knowing that the <HI>Grand-Vizier</HI> lov'd Mu&s;ick, made him be acquainted that if he would make me Sing I was capable to give him &s;ome plea&s;ure; &s;o after he had ask'd me &s;everal que&s;tions about the Per&s;on and Conque&s;ts of our great Ma&s;ter, he fell in&s;en&s;ibly to talk about the addre&s;s of the <HI>French,</HI> and
<PB N="116" REF="62">the advancement they had made in all Arts, and particularly in Poetry and Mu&s;ick. From hence he pas'd to what concern'd me, and told me in an obliging manner, that &s;urpris'd me, that he knew I could Sing, and he believ'd I would not refu&s;e him the &s;atisfaction to hear me. I had learnt &s;ome Airs from the fa|mous <HI>I ambert,</HI> which I Sung him the be&s;t I could. I had wounded without doubt the mo&s;t critical Ears; but the <HI>Vizier</HI> was contented. He made <HI>Achidec</HI> be &s;ent for, and Commanded him not to think of doing me any mi&s;chief; and he gave him&s;elf the touble to tell him, that what <HI>Eu&s;tochia</HI> had &s;aid to him, was only to make him a&s;&s;i&s;tant to her revenge, and that it was impo&s;&s;ible for her toknow whether I had kil'd his Brother.</P>
<PB N="117" REF="62">
<P>After this the Grand Vizier gave me leave to be gone, pre&s;enting me with a rich Symeter. You know perhaps it was one of the Articles of the Capitulation, that tho&s;e of <HI>Candia,</HI> who would not remain under the Government of the <HI>Turks,</HI> &s;hould have a Months Liberty to retire where they pleas'd. Some went to <HI>Sicily,</HI> others to <HI>I|taly.</HI> I for my part re&s;olv'd to embark with tho&s;e who went to <HI>Sicily,</HI> where the <HI>Me&s;&s;ine&s;es</HI> began to ri&s;e, but when I propos'd it to the lovely <HI>Augu&s;ta,</HI> her fears and &s;ighs overcame my re&s;olutions. I con&s;ented not to depart, and I a&s;&s;ur'd her &s;he &s;hould always di&s;|po&s;e of as &s;he pleas'd, a life &s;he had &s;o generou&s;ly pre&s;erv'd; the furi|ous <HI>Eu&s;tochia</HI> rais'd every day &s;ome new Affair to de&s;troy me, and I am going to tell you one that was within a very little of producing the effect &s;he expected. You may
<PB N="118" REF="63">well imagine that when I was once got out of the Patriarch's Hou&s;e, I came no more into it. <HI>Augu&s;ta</HI> de&s;ir'd one of her Relati|ons to find me a Hou&s;e, where I might &s;tay till my departure. <HI>Eu&s;tochia</HI> had intelligence of it. She dextrou&s;ly brib'd a <HI>Turk</HI> for my de&s;truction, and told him he was to get acquainted with me, and take me up upon the account of Religion: this <HI>Turk</HI> under&s;tood <HI>Italian,</HI> &s;he knew that I &s;poke it, and for that purpo&s;e had made choice of him; and as it was an unpardonable Crime for a Chri&s;tian to talk Religion to a <HI>Turk,</HI> &s;he thought a &s;nare was laid for me, that I could not po&s;&s;ibly e&s;cape.</P>
<P>The <HI>Turk</HI> having receiv'd the&s;e in&s;tructions took his mea&s;ures to make me acquainted with him: he took every opportunity to ren|der me little Services, to in&s;inuate into me, and oblige me to &s;peak to
<PB N="119" REF="63">him with more confidence. At la&s;t after &s;everal entertainments about indifferent matters, he in|&s;en&s;ibly engag'd me to rea&s;on with him about the My&s;teries of our Faith. I did it without the lea&s;t imagination to convince him of the truths I &s;hould &s;peak, becau&s;e he had always &s;eemed to me very aver&s;e to any Maxims but tho&s;e of the <HI>Alcoran.</HI> But yet he &s;o well remembred what I had told him concerning our Religion, that he did not forget a &s;ingle Word; and according to his bargain with the Cruel <HI>Eu&s;tochia,</HI> he went to the Grand Vizier and told him, that I would have per&s;waded him to turn Chri&s;tian. I thought of no|thing le&s;s than the de&s;ign was form'd again&s;t me, and I had ju&s;t left the fair <HI>Augu&s;ta,</HI> when I was &s;eiz'd on by twelve <HI>Turks,</HI> who violently dragg'd me into a dark Pri&s;on, in all likelyhood abu&s;ing
<PB N="120" REF="64">me all the way, for I did not un|der&s;tand their Language; but by the manner they us'd me I could have no better hopes. <HI>Augu&s;ta</HI> having learnt my misfortune, went again to the Grand Vizier, and en|deavour'd to make him know it was another effect of my Si&s;ter's Animo&s;ity. She de&s;crib'd me ve|ry uncapable of the Crime was imputed to me, and be&s;eech'd him to &s;u&s;pend his Judgment, till &s;he had found out the means to di&s;|cover the truth.</P>
<P>My Per&s;on and my Voice were not di&s;plea&s;ing to the Grand Vizi|er. He happily for me did not for|get it, and granted <HI>Augu&s;ta</HI> twelve days for my ju&s;tification: but as &s;he doubted her Si&s;ter would make u&s;e of the Patriarch's Authority to hinder her from a&s;&s;i&s;ting me, &s;o &s;he retir'd to Relations, for fear &s;he &s;hould not have the Liberty to go abroad.</P>
<P>Some days had pa&s;t without a|ny
<PB N="121" REF="64">di&s;covery of what might a&s;&s;i&s;t her in that &s;he had undertaken for me; and the time the Grand Vi|zier had given her being almo&s;t expired, they were even preparing in the Town to &s;ee me &s;uffer, when a young Maid a Servant in the Pa|triarch's Hou&s;e, came to &s;ee <HI>Au|gu&s;ta</HI> where &s;he was retir'd, and told her that <HI>Eu&s;tochia</HI> often di&s;|cours'd with the <HI>Turk,</HI> who had &s;uffered him&s;elf to be brib'd. <HI>Augu&s;ta</HI> engaged this Maid to de|clare before the Grand Vizier what &s;he knew of it, and de&s;ir'd at the &s;ame time it would plea&s;e him to bring me face to face with my Ac|cu&s;er. He as &s;oon made me be &s;ent for out of Pri&s;on before him, and <HI>Eu&s;tochia</HI> and the <HI>Turk</HI> being brought to hear what they would &s;ay, &s;he he commanded the la&s;t by <HI>Alla,</HI> to tell the truth, and for what motive he had charg'd me with this fault. My Pre&s;ence and
<PB N="122" REF="65">the Oath the <HI>Turk</HI> was oblig'd to take, &s;hook his re&s;olution &s;o much, that he confe&s;s'd <HI>Eu&s;tochia</HI> had en|gag'd him to &s;ay what he had &s;aid again&s;t me; that truly I had &s;poke to him concerning the Chri&s;tian Religion, but that he fir&s;t had be|gan the di&s;cour&s;e, and that far from u&s;ing any Arguments to per&s;wade him to be of it, I was contented to an&s;wer the que&s;tions he had deman|ded of me: the Grand Vizier &s;a|tisfy'd of my Innocency, con|demn'd the <HI>Turk</HI> to the &s;ame Pu|ni&s;hment was de&s;ign'd for me; he &s;eriou&s;ly reprimanded <HI>Eu&s;tochia,</HI> prais'd <HI>Augu&s;ta</HI>'s genero&s;ity, and &s;et me at liberty: and as he knew the Patriarch was angry with <HI>Augu&s;ta,</HI> for retiring from his Hou&s;e, with|out his con&s;ent, he oblig'd the Fa|ther to pardon the generous Maid. I de&s;ir'd &s;everal times favour for the <HI>Turk;</HI> but what in&s;tances &s;o|ever I could make on that Subject
<PB N="123" REF="65">he continually an&s;wer'd me there was no pardon for faults of that nature.</P>
<P>Since this day, <HI>Augu&s;ta</HI> was the fir&s;t who de&s;ir'd me to leave a place where &s;oon or late &s;ome ill acci|dent would happen to me. I par|ted from her with an extreme re|gret, to leave her expos'd to the hatred of her Si&s;ter, and I &s;hew'd her, when I took my leave, all the acknowledgments &s;he could expect from a heart &s;en&s;ibly penetrated by the obligations &s;he had done me.</P>
<P>I embark'd with &s;ome of <HI>Candia,</HI> who made choice of <HI>Sicily</HI> for their retreat, and I happily arriv'd there. I &s;taid but eight Days, and I took the opportunity to pa&s;s into <HI>France,</HI> in a Merchant's Ve&s;&s;el, that had brought Silks from <HI>Me&s;&s;ina.</HI> You may think my Equipage was none of the mo&s;t Magnificent: the one|ly Riches I had was the Symeter,
<PB N="124" REF="66">the Grand Vizier had given me When I was at <HI>Thoulon</HI> I onely thought how to put my &s;elf into a condition to go to <HI>Marcilles,</HI> where I found a Merchant that ac|commodated me with Money, Clothes and Hor&s;es for my &s;elf and my Valet; after I had made &s;ome lit|tle &s;tay there, I took my way to|wards this place, where, &s;ince the report of my death was &s;pread a|broad, I do not doubt but my re|turn has been the occa&s;ion of much &s;urpri&s;e.</P>
</FLOATEXT>
<P><HI>Mezelon</HI> having ended his recital, &s;ome time was pa&s;t in asking him a number of que&s;tions, to which he always an&s;wer'd with a great deal of Wit, and it &s;urni&s;h'd us with Subject for Conver&s;ation, for we did not &s;oon pa&s;s over what con|cern'd <HI>Augu&s;ta.</HI></P>
<P>In fine, Madam, <HI>Bernard</HI> came back to me, he went &s;trait to <HI>Tu|nin,</HI> but not Meeting there with
<PB N="125" REF="66">the Marque&s;s <HI>de</HI> Saint * * * he re|&s;olved to go to <HI>Paris,</HI> although he had no order for it; but the affection he had for me gave him &s;ome Authority, People of his &s;ort doe not u&s;e to take; he told me my Husband was gone from thence, and no body knew which way; he afterwards let me know, that the Pre&s;ident was dead, and his Wife retired into a Covent, and that the Prince lived peaceably with his; that the Marque&s;s <HI>de</HI> Saint &dagger; &dagger; &dagger; was extremely &s;ick, and that the Duke appeared very in|different in what he told him con|cerning my Adventures.</P>
<P>I was &s;o at lea&s;t a&s;much as he, for every thing that <HI>Bernard</HI> told me; they neither in&s;tructed me in what was pa&s;&s;ed, nor in what I had to doe; but the Arrival of the good <HI>Hermite</HI> gave a little di&s;tur|bance to my plea&s;ures: he excu&s;ed him&s;elf that I had not heard from
<PB N="126" REF="67">him, by rea&s;on of a Journey he was obliged to make to the Char|treu&s;es at <HI>Grenoble,</HI> and told me that at his return, he had heard that <HI>Spichetti</HI> was ready to dye with grief when he knew I was e&s;caped; that after his recovery from his feaver, he had writ to my Husband that he would deliver me into his Hands, if he would come to <HI>Avignon;</HI> that my Husband was arrived with all diligence, and that both took what care they could to di&s;cover where I was; that the Gardiner being &s;u&s;pected to con|tribute to my flight, had been ve|ry ill u&s;ed, and confe&s;&s;ed what he knew; and I believe, added the <HI>Hermite,</HI> that by carefull &s;earch, it is not impo&s;&s;ible but you may be here di&s;covered.</P>
<P>I was willing he &s;hould &s;peak before Madam <HI>de Mezelon</HI> and her Children, who told me in the be&s;t manner of the world, that I ought
<PB N="127" REF="67">not to apprehend they would &s;uf|fer any Violence to be &s;hewn to me.</P>
<P><HI>Mernard</HI> could not approve the informing &s;o many of my affairs, and the chagrin he had at it, made me endure more than one ridicu|lous rea&s;oning with him; he per|ceived al&s;o, there was a great in|telligence between <HI>Mezelon</HI> and me, and therefore &s;aw nothing could bring a remedy to it but di&s;tance: 'twas for this rea&s;on he advi&s;ed me to goe from <HI>Mezelon,</HI> but it mu&s;t be an Argument &s;tronger than his advice to drag me from him, not but that I knew, if my Husband &s;hould di&s;cover me there, it might occa&s;ion great Misfortunes, but I could not re&s;olve to leave a place where I loved and knew I was be|loved, the <HI>Hermite</HI> entertained me, and we were rea&s;oning one day a|bout what he thought fit for me to doe, when Madam <HI>de Mezelon</HI>
<PB N="128" REF="68">and her Son were advertized, that &s;ome unknown Cavaleers de&s;ired to &s;peak with 'em. <HI>Feliza</HI>'s Cham|ber lookt upon the Draw-bridge, and from thence I &s;aw 'twas my Husband at the gate, conducted thither by the <HI>Italian.</HI></P>
<P>I &s;hall not tell you, Madam, what words he made u&s;e of to per&s;wade Madam <HI>de Mezelon,</HI> &s;he ought to deliver me into his Power, or what menaces he employed to frighten her, and oblige her to doe what he de&s;ired; this Lady &s;u&s;tained all with an equal firmne&s;s, and neither &s;uf|fering her &s;elf to be overcome, nor frightened by what &s;he &s;aid, &s;he remained, re&s;olved to guard me, till the anger he di&s;covered at me, had giv'n place to rea&s;on. My Hu&s;|band having no occa&s;ion to com|plain at the&s;e proceedings, would make her a Mediatrix in our diffe|rences, and &s;ubmit 'em to her Judg|ment, W<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">^^c^^h &s;he would not accept till I had given my con&s;ent. You may imagine, Madam, my concerns were
<PB N="129" REF="68">into good Hands to refu&s;e the con|fiding of 'em to her; 'twas agreed at this interview, my Husband &s;hould retire, that it might appear this was a Voluntary Accommo|dation; that he &s;hould return a few days after, and have a confe|rence with me, at which Madam <HI>de Mezelon</HI> was to be pre&s;ent. That in the mean time <HI>Mon&s;ieur de Me|zelon</HI> &s;hould promi&s;e my Husband, that I &s;hould not leave his Hou&s;e, till the conclu&s;ion or rupture of this Accommodation. The good Hermite who was yet here, would not depart before he knew how this affair would end. He was not a little nece&s;&s;ary in winning and di&s;po&s;ing my Husband to peace; but whether out of in&s;tinct or par|ticular knowledge, he de&s;ired him when he took his leave to manage better his confidence of People, and that it was not to be impos'd on all.</P>
<P>The <HI>Italian</HI> had an inconceiva|ble vexation at the di&s;po&s;ition he &s;aw to our reunion, and to hinder
<PB N="130" REF="69">my Husband from having greater, he would have obliged him not to return to <HI>Mezelon</HI>'s, but whatever he could &s;ay or what&s;oever rea&s;ons he employ'd, my Husband came the day that was a&s;&s;ign'd.</P>
<P>I a&s;&s;ure you, Madam, what con|cern &s;oever I had for <HI>Mezelon,</HI> I was neverthele&s;s very &s;en&s;ible of the abatement I ob&s;erv'd in my Husband. He found me in a Fe|male habit, and I was &s;o mode&s;tly adju&s;ted, that he had rea&s;on to be pleas'd at it. The Te&s;timony Madam <HI>de Mezelon</HI> gave of my good Conduct, appeas'd his mind extreamly, and I had more rea&s;on to pity than fear his Re&s;entment. I therefore began to ju&s;tifie my &s;elf upon all that had been told him concerning me. I gently follow|ed the things I had been accus'd of: but that which &s;urpriz'd him mo&s;t was when I demanded Ju&s;tice for his counterfeited A&s;&s;a&s;&s;ination. I
<PB N="131" REF="69">confe&s;t to him ingeniou&s;ly, that I had heard with too much ea&s;ine&s;s the Gallantry of the Prince, the Pre&s;ident, and the Duke; but when I had told him after what manner the Pre&s;ident's Lady had engag'd me in this commerce, and every thing as it really was, he repented to have left me to the mercy of the fal&s;e vertue of a Woman, and ex|pos'd me to the love of the Husband. He a&s;cribed all the faults of my Youth to the over &s;evere regulation he had pre&s;cribed me, and upon the ob&s;tinacy he had to make me vi&s;it continually the Pre&s;ident's Lady.</P>
<P>I forgot to tell you, Madam, that <HI>Spichetti</HI> could not &s;uffer the Eclairci&s;ment he well fore&s;aw I &s;hould give my Husband about his per&s;ecutions. And the perfidious had yet &s;tronger rea&s;ons to oblige him not to Accompany him to <HI>Me|zelon</HI>'s: But when to end my ju&s;|tification,
<PB N="132" REF="70">I di&s;cover'd to him the proceedings of the <HI>Italian</HI> and made his impudence to me, he atte&s;ted, both by the Hermite, who had heard of his importments, and by my Servants, who had been Wit|ne&s;&s;es of his Violence, he appear'd extreamly troubled, and I had but little to &s;ay to obtain that he &s;hould forget my faults.</P>
<P>This entertainment, which was onely de&s;igned the prelude to our Reconcilement, had almo&s;t entire|ly effected it. And I repented me in earne&s;t of all my imprudencies, and was di&s;po&s;ing my &s;elf to pa&s;s my days with my Husband after &s;uch a manner as &s;hould blot out the ill impre&s;&s;ion was received of me, when he fell into a weakne&s;s was attributed to his &s;en&s;iblene&s;s of our interview. The &s;entiments of it was changed when after he was a little recovered, he fell into unconceivable torment. There
<PB N="133" REF="70">Accidents returned &s;o often that at la&s;t he died, when he had &s;uffer|ed for two days all that could be endured.</P>
<P>He made a will, wherein he ju&s;ti|fied me in every thing he had ac|cu&s;ed me, &s;he gave me al&s;o all that the Law permitted him to di&s;po&s;e of, upon condition I &s;hould marry <HI>Mezelon.</HI> He had heard how faith|fully <HI>Bernard</HI> and my Chamber Maid had &s;erv'd me, and took care to recompence 'em for it.</P>
<P>The more they examined into his Sickne&s;s, the more rea&s;on there was to believe he was Poy&s;on'd; and he &s;aid &s;omething of it to him who was called to receive his la&s;t Breath. He was opened and there was &s;een the vi&s;ible effects of the Poy&s;on that the Traytour <HI>Spichetti</HI> had given him. I &s;ent to <HI>Avignon</HI> to have him taken, but Heaven had not &s;o long defer'd his puni&s;hment. He that I &s;ent for that purpo&s;e,
<PB N="134" REF="71">brought me word back, that the reputation he had of being and po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ing many Jewels, had temp|ted a Servant of his to kill him and run away with the Plunder.</P>
<P>I cried &s;incerely for the death of my Husband, but time, and the Con&s;olations I received on all &s;ides calmed my affliction at la&s;t. I would not marry neverthele&s;s till his will was executed, and what|&s;oever <HI>Mezelon</HI> could do would not prevail with me to marry him till after I had been a Widow for a whole year. 'Twas accompli&s;h't with the great joy of his Mother and Si&s;ter. Since that time I have had no care but to plea&s;e my Hus|band, and thereby to e&s;tabli&s;h me a life as plea&s;ant as Innocent. I have &s;ome bu&s;ine&s;s which I am come to regulate, and when it is ended I will return to him with hopes never to be more &s;eperated from him.</P>
<PB N="135" REF="71">
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="conclusion">
<P>Madam <HI>de Mezelon</HI> having ended her recital, the Counte&s;s <HI>de Ma|rignan</HI> appear'd extreamly &s;atisfied at it. She admired the &s;everal ac|cidents, and the night approaching, &s;he took leave of her Friend, pro|mi&s;ing to meet at the &s;ame place the next day, and to di&s;cover to her the adventures &s;he was con|cern'd in.</P>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
</DIV2>
</DIV1>
</BODY>
</TEXT>
<TEXT LANG="eng">
<FRONT>
<DIV1 TYPE="title page">
<PB REF="72">
<PB REF="72">
<P>THE GALLANTS, OR Reciprocal Confidents. A NOVEL.</P>
<P>PART II.</P>
<P><HI>LONDON,</HI> Printed for <HI>Jo&s;eph Knight</HI> and <HI>Francis Saunders,</HI> at the <HI>Blue Anchor</HI> in the <HI>New Exchange.</HI> MDCLXXXV.</P>
</DIV1>
</FRONT>
<BODY>
<DIV1 N="2" TYPE="text">
<PB REF="73">
<PB N="1" REF="73">
<HEAD>THE Reciprocal Confidents.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The Second Part.</HEAD>
<DIV2 TYPE="introduction">
<P>THE Counte&s;s of <HI>Marignan,</HI> and Madam <HI>de Mezelon,</HI> met the next Day in the <HI>Tuilleries</HI> according to their engagements; and after half an hours walking, during which time they entertain'd them&s;elves in gene|ral upon the Changes that are com|monly occa&s;ion'd by Marriage, they retir'd into a private Walk, and &s;it|ting down, the Counte&s;s acquitted her &s;elf of her promi&s;e, and made this relation of her Adventures.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="story">
<PB N="2" REF="74">
<HEAD>The Counte&s;s <HI>de Marignan</HI>'s Relation.</HEAD>
<P>I Will &s;ay nothing to you, Ma|dam, of the fir&s;t Years of my Life; we pa&s;s'd 'em together, and you remember, without doubt, how unwillingly I marryed the Marque&s;s <HI>de Mondanar;</HI> but as you went in|to the Country, &s;ome Days before that fatal engagement, I mu&s;t begin my recital with &s;ome things that pre|ceded it, to give you the greater light into tho&s;e that follow'd.</P>
<P>As &s;oon as the Articles of our Marriage were &s;ign'd, the Marque&s;s <HI>de Mondanar</HI>'s Relations came to Vi&s;it me, and among&s;t the re&s;t he pre&s;ented to me the Count <HI>de Ble|&s;inac</HI> as his greate&s;t Friend, and de|&s;ired me to look upon him as &s;uch. What imprudence has &s;uch a Man as <HI>Mondanar</HI> committed, in engag|ing
<PB N="3" REF="74">his Mi&s;tre&s;s to have an e&s;teem for <HI>Ble&s;inac.</HI></P>
<P>The fir&s;t, as you know, Madam, was more than three&s;core; and you may remember that the infirmities he had, render'd him decayed for his Age. His way of Dre&s;&s;ing did not repair the defects of his Per&s;on; and, to keep no &s;ecret from you, I mu&s;t confe&s;s to you, his Humour, and Wit, were yet more di&s;agreeable. He was Covetous, Severe, Contra|dictory, and the knowledge he had of Plea&s;ure only &s;erv'd him to fly the enjoyment of it, and defer'd it from tho&s;e over whom he had any power. In fine, my de&s;tiny com|pell'd me to marry this Man, for whom I had almo&s;t an invincible aver&s;ion.</P>
<P>Our Relations, you know, do not rea&s;on after our manner, when our e&s;tabli&s;hment is in que&s;tion. The Quality and great Riches of the Marque&s;s was the Cau&s;e they did not
<PB N="4" REF="75">con&s;ult me in what was &s;o contrary to my inclination; they a&s;&s;ur'd me a con&s;iderable Quality and Joyn|ture, and that was all they de&s;ired.</P>
<P>Though the Marque&s;s was attack'd by his continual pains, he would not long defer our Marriage, at Night it was celebrated. My old Hu&s;|band return'd home, and I to my Mothers, with a great deal of joy on my &s;ide, but not without extream &s;urpri&s;e to my Relations, who&s;e a|&s;toni&s;hment and Chagrin were more augmented the next Day, when he came to de&s;ire my Mother to ap|prove of my going for <HI>Languedoc.</HI> He came into my Chamber, and ex|plain'd him&s;elf to me after the &s;ame manner.</P>
<P>Well, Madam, &s;aid he, are you not re&s;olv'd to accompany me to Morrow to <HI>Provence?</HI> That word of to Morrow frighted me, and it was impo&s;&s;ible for me to hinder the alteration that appear'd in
<PB N="5" REF="75">my face. What makes you blu&s;h, con|tinued he? Do you think I'll &s;pend my E&s;tate at <HI>Paris?</HI> No, Madam, I'm &s;ick and not pleas'd with the place; I once more tell you, Make ready to go with me. I told him with a melancholy air, that I was rea|dy to do what he pleas'd. After this he chuck'd me under the Chin, ki&s;s'd my Forehead, and went to take order for his departure.</P>
<P>I &s;aw him no more that Day. This proceeding made my Mother judge I &s;hould not be very happy; the good Lady repented for having a greater con&s;ideration for the Rich|es than the Per&s;on, and &s;he de&s;ired the Count <HI>de Ble&s;inac</HI> not to forget to endeavour what he could for my con&s;olation. You may gue&s;s in what a condition I left <HI>Paris.</HI></P>
<P><HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> went with us, and I per|ceiv'd, when he &s;uffered him&s;elf to be engag'd in this Journey by my Husband, he renounc'd all other
<PB N="6" REF="76">plea&s;ures for that of accompanying me. When we were a little way out of Town, the Marque&s;s made the Coach &s;top upon a Hill, from whence it might be wholly di&s;co|vered, and then &s;aid in a cruel voice, Look well upon <HI>Paris,</HI> Ma|dam, for 'tis the la&s;t time you &s;hall &s;ee it whil&s;t I live. I know too well the con&s;equences of &s;o dangerous an abode, ever to permit it you, and I mu&s;t tell you that a young Woman ought to think of it no otherwi&s;e than the mo&s;t terrible burying place of her Vertue.</P>
<P>I made no an&s;wer to this di&s;cour&s;e, but contented my &s;elf with thinking what my &s;en&s;e furni&s;h'd me with on that occa&s;ion. You &s;ay nothing, replyed my Husband, do you pre|tend to return? As I am not quite gone from it yet, &s;aid I, it is not time to think of returning. I advi&s;e you not, replyed the Marque&s;s, for it will be to no purpo&s;e.</P>
<PB N="7" REF="76">
<P>The Coach driving forward, he began to con&s;ider what the journey would co&s;t him, and from that cal|culation he &s;oon pa&s;s'd to regret the charge. During the&s;e impertinent Di&s;cour&s;es, the Count was in great con&s;traint, and dur&s;t not look upon me; but I often created an occa&s;i|on to go out of the Coach, &s;ome|times with pretence to ea&s;e the Hor|&s;es, &s;ometimes for fear of over turn|ing, but 'twas always to e&s;cape the fatigueing conver&s;ation of my Hu&s;|band.</P>
<P>I remember one Day that being alighted, I walk'd, and the Count gave me his hand. I was troubled at the ill humour of his relation, and this thought joyn'd to the little in|clination I had to merriment, kept me in a deep thoughtfulne&s;s.</P>
<P>The Count could not hinder him|&s;elf from demanding of me the rea|&s;on. 'Tis &s;o little a time, &s;aid I, &s;ince I left the Per&s;ons who were mo&s;t dear
<PB N="8" REF="77">to me; and, all that I fore&s;ee fills my mind with &s;uch &s;ad <HI>Ideas,</HI> that 'tis impo&s;&s;ible I &s;hould think with|out melancholy upon what I have lo&s;t, or upon that which my Duty obliges me to follow. I confe&s;s, Madam, &s;aid <HI>Ble&s;inac, Mon&s;ieur de Mondanar</HI> does not know his happi|ne&s;s, and makes an ill u&s;e of what would be a ble&s;&s;ing to the mo&s;t de|&s;erving Man in the World. I do not agree with you, an&s;wered I, that it is altogether as you &s;ay, but I am per&s;waded, if I do not occa&s;ion his felicity, he will be the cau&s;e of my ill fortune. I never de&s;ired, conti|nued I, a life loaded with continu|al Plea&s;ures, but I have been always very apprehen&s;ive of misfortunes, and all that I &s;hould have ask'd of Heaven would have been to pa&s;s my Days in a tranquillity, that I well &s;ee I mu&s;t not now pretend to.</P>
<P>I agree, Madam, &s;ays <HI>Ble&s;inac,</HI> that an undi&s;turb'd Life is agreeable; but
<PB N="9" REF="77">it may &s;ometimes be mole&s;ted by &s;entiments that may be the occa&s;ion of as great a degree of Plea&s;ure. If I had once acquired it, replyed I, I could know no recompence for the lo&s;s of it; and I would not for any thing, an&s;wered <HI>Ble&s;inac,</HI> have pre&s;erv'd that in which I liv'd in till the time I had the honour to &s;ee you. Do not accu&s;e me, &s;aid I, of doing you &s;o great a mi&s;chief, for I fear, 'twould be never in my power to repair it, and I have no de&s;ign to do you any; but by this Di&s;cour&s;e I find you &s;eek a pretence to avoid the care of giving me con|&s;olation, and forget what my Mo|ther de&s;ir'd you. I do not forget it, Madam, but what comfort can you expect from an unhappy Man who &s;uffers your puni&s;hments and his own, and has him&s;elf occa&s;ion for what you demand of him. I had form'd to my &s;elf a terrible <HI>Idea</HI> of a declaration of love, but I
<PB N="10" REF="78">found nothing in this but what was re&s;pectful and decent, I thought my &s;elf not obliged to be angry at it. We happily arriv'd where the Coach &s;tay'd for us, for I knew not well what an&s;wer I &s;hould make to <HI>Ble|&s;inac.</HI></P>
<P>An accident happened the next Day that more augmented the aver|&s;ion I had for the Marque&s;s, and gave me a better knowledge of the Counts Inclinations for me; we were over-turn'd, and I receiv'd a con&s;i|derable hurt in my Head. I was vex'd to hear my Husband, who took no notice of the pain I en|dur'd, vent his affliction for the breaking of his Coach. He had lit|tle care of me, but I receiv'd very many from the Count <HI>de Ble&s;inac.</HI> Although I was wounded, we were to leave <HI>Ch&acirc;teauroux</HI> as &s;oon as the equipage was mended.</P>
<P>There would be no end, &s;hould I tell you all the &s;ubjects of complaint
<PB N="11" REF="78">the Marque&s;s gave me in this Jour|ney. <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> repair'd all I receiv'd, by &s;igns of his Pa&s;&s;ion. We arriv'd at la&s;t at <HI>Mondanar,</HI> where our re|ception was very doleful. The Count pa&s;s'd a fortnight there, whil&s;t I often &s;aid to my &s;elf that I might &s;urely have an innocent Pa&s;|&s;ion for him, and that it was the on|ly remedy I had to allay my misfor|tunes. What would you have, Ma|dam? the Heart never wants rea&s;ons to abandon it &s;elf to a de&s;ire that flatters it.</P>
<P>I in&s;en&s;ibly accu&s;tom'd my &s;elf to hear the a&s;&s;urances the Count gave me of his tenderne&s;s and fidelity, and I permitted him to believe that I was not in&s;en&s;ible of his merit and affection. Well, Madam, &s;aid he &s;ometimes, are you &s;till for tran|quillity? and do not you perceive at all that agreeable trouble which Love rai&s;es in the Brea&s;t? I know &s;o little what it is (an&s;wered I to
<PB N="12" REF="79">him one Day when he di&s;cours'd in that kind to me) that I can|not well unravel what I feel, but I believe in the humour I am, I &s;hall &s;uffer all it will bring upon me. I begin to be afraid of ab&s;ence, and le&s;t it be followed by forgetfulne&s;s. I fear le&s;t you &s;hould grow Incon|&s;tant, Perfidious, Unfaithful. Judge, pur&s;ued I, if the&s;e thoughts will &s;uffer my mind to be in a perfect re|po&s;e. <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> took great care to &s;a|tisfie me in all my doubts, and I ve|ry well found he was al&s;o not a little in fear of ab&s;ence. He &s;ung agree|ably enough, and I had no very ill Voice, &s;o that we &s;ung &s;ometimes to|gether; but when my Husband heard us, he told me in the rude&s;t manner you can imagine, that the Af|fairs of the Hou&s;e were not perform|ed by &s;inging. In fine, he was trou|bled to hear me, and forbid me that diver&s;ion, as if it had been a Crime; and he likewi&s;e made his Relations
<PB N="13" REF="79">know, he &s;hould not be &s;orry at his departure. The Count was obliged to go on the Morrow, and I remain|ed at <HI>Mondanar.</HI> All the mi&s;chiefs I endur'd were nothing in compari|&s;on to what I &s;uffer'd by the ill hu|mour of my Husband, and the parting from <HI>Ble&s;inac.</HI> I had yet the liberty to imploy my thoughts all the Day long on a Per&s;on who&s;e remembrance alone was &s;ufficient to &s;weeten all my pains, but I was not &s;o happy to pre&s;erve it long. My Husband had a Si&s;ter who dy'd, and left an only Daughter to his Guar|dian&s;hip; before he brought her near me, he took great care to for|bid her ingaging in my concerns; and I can a&s;&s;ure you, &s;he was ever far from it. She had the &s;ame mind, and the &s;ame ways with her Uncle, but more emportment. She was outwardly very di&s;agreeable, the &s;ight of her di&s;pleas'd me, and 'twas a puni&s;hment for me to look upon her.</P>
<PB N="14" REF="80">
<P>The Death of my Si&s;ter-in-Law was a pretence for <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> to come to the Marque&s;s's; but although <HI>Cri&s;ante</HI> (for &s;o my Niece was call'd) was of a rude and &s;avage di&s;po&s;ition, &s;he took care I perceiv|ed to appear more humane towards the Count; one would have thought &s;he had never &s;een any other Body, &s;he di&s;covered &s;o much earne&s;tne&s;s to look upon him. I cannot better de&s;cribe the motion of her Eyes. She knew not the World, and there|fore you mu&s;t not wonder if &s;he was ignorant of the manner of it. I would have given her &s;ome ad|vice, which &s;he refus'd with great di&s;dain.</P>
<P>I know not how <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> happen'd to tell her one Day that &s;he had fine Teeth, &s;he believ'd it; and &s;ince never any one has told her &s;o much, &s;he imagin'd &s;he found her very aimable. This ridiculous opini|on join'd to her ru&s;ty behaviour,
<PB N="15" REF="80">made her a plea&s;ant Character; but I was not of the humour to make &s;port at it; and the di&s;agreements &s;he had in other things, made her in&s;upportable to me.</P>
<P><HI>Cri&s;ante</HI> was rich, both in her own fortune, and the hopes &s;he had to inherit my Husband's, which made the Count <HI>de Ble&s;inac</HI>'s Father de|mand her in Marriage for his Son. The Marque&s;s ea&s;ily con&s;ented to this de&s;ire, and, to &s;peak &s;incerely to you, I was not very much trou|bled at the choice was made for <HI>Cri|&s;ante,</HI> becau&s;e &s;he was as I would wi&s;h, not to be in danger of rob|bing me of the Counts Affection. And 'twas with difficulty I per&s;wad|ed him to it, he reproach'd me that I did not love him &s;ince I would have him Marry; but as the e&s;tabli&s;hment was con&s;iderable for him, &s;o he at la&s;t overcame his di&s;gu&s;t to it, and declar'd him|&s;elf <HI>Cri&s;ante</HI>'s Lover. When he &s;aid
<PB N="16" REF="81">any obliging things to her, 'twas with a con&s;traint, 'tis true, that was ve|ry vi&s;ible.</P>
<P>In the mean time, out of an odd humour which &s;urpris'd us all, my Husband refus'd to conclude the Marriage. <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI>'s Father pre&s;t him either to break off, or conclude, becau&s;e there was another Party pro|pos'd, that would not be of le&s;s Ad|vantage to the Count than the Mar|que&s;s's Niece.</P>
<P>I had al&s;o my rea&s;ons to de&s;ire that <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> &s;hould Marry <HI>Cri&s;ante,</HI> but all our Wi&s;hes were without Effect. The Marque&s;s follow'd his own, which were contrary to ours; and when one of the Counts Relati|ons came to &s;peak to him about the Articles, which it was time to &s;eal, he would do nothing in it, he &s;aid, and that his mind was alter'd.</P>
<P>This refu&s;al gave me many Cha|grins, and you may imagine it gave not fewer to the Count; he ex|treamly
<PB N="17" REF="81">complained of it, and the quarrel was &s;o great between him and my Husband, as to re&s;olve ne|ver to &s;ee one the other again. I made no &s;hew, though I was con|cern'd at it, but left all to <HI>Cri&s;ante</HI>'s violent humour, which forgot not a|ny thing I could &s;ay, had it been law|ful for me to have explain'd my &s;elf. <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> thought I was not very much engag'd for his Intere&s;t, and I might have &s;poke more in his Favour. I made him &s;ee the Inju&s;tice of his Complaints, by telling him, that a greater Zeal for his Concerns would have render'd me &s;u&s;pected by my Husband, and that the lea&s;t &s;u&s;pici|on would have de&s;troy'd our Com|merce. He approved my Rea&s;ons, and we parted well enough con|tented.</P>
<P>I apprehended neverthele&s;s that there was &s;ome my&s;tery between <HI>Cri&s;ante</HI> and the Count. I could not di&s;cover it, and the things re|main'd
<PB N="18" REF="82">for &s;ome time in this condi|tion.</P>
<P><HI>Ble&s;inac</HI>'s Relations reported a|broad that he was to be Married to a Gentlewoman their Neighbour, who was both Rich and Beautiful. This News gave me no alarms. I believed it fal&s;e, becau&s;e I was per|&s;waded he would make no re&s;oluti|ons without my con&s;ent, but he had neverthele&s;s de&s;ign'd an enterpri&s;e that I was far from &s;u&s;pecting.</P>
<P>My Husband was incomoded with his Pains. I had watch'd with him late, and I wondered that my Niece was retir'd before me, not imagin|ing any de&s;ign in it, for &s;he knew not her Duty enough to follow it; I thought only that the Chagrin &s;he had at the breaking off her Mar|riage was the rea&s;on &s;he wanted complai&s;ance, and might make her heedle&s;s, and I went to Bed without making other reflections.</P>
<P>The Day began to break, and I
<PB N="19" REF="82">was very fa&s;t a&s;leep when they came to wake me and tell me the Ca&s;tle was a Fire, without knowing who was the occa&s;ion of it: They told me al&s;o that the Bridge was found down, and the Gates open. I im|mediately &s;ent into <HI>Cri&s;ante</HI>'s Cham|ber; 'twas to no purpo&s;e to look for her, &s;he was e&s;cap'd. I mu&s;t con|fe&s;s to you, Madam, that notwith|&s;tanding the fright I had from the Fire, I grew very angry at <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> that he had told me nothing of his De&s;igns, for I did not doubt but he was concern'd in <HI>Cri&s;ante</HI>'s flight, and that it was he who had &s;tole her a|way. I &s;oon got up, and went to di&s;cover it to my Husband, who had all the re&s;entment at it imaginable. He drove it &s;o far, that <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> was condemn'd to lo&s;e his Head; for the Parliament of <HI>Tholou&s;e</HI> is very &s;e|vere in faults of this nature, and it was not hard for him to bring the Affair to this pa&s;s.</P>
<PB N="20" REF="83">
<P>I was till now of no e&s;teem in the Marque&s;s's Hou&s;e, it &s;eem'd as if this accident had open'd his Eyes, to &s;ee the Inju&s;tice he had done me, and make him repent to have lived with me after that manner. It might be perhaps to revenge him|&s;elf of the di&s;obedience of his Niece, and the little con&s;ideration <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> had for him, that he began to u&s;e me much better. I receiv'd from him many proofs of his kindne&s;s; and if I had not had in my Heart tho&s;e Sentiments for <HI>Ble&s;inac,</HI> I &s;hould have been, I believe, very Happy. Alas! 'twas impo&s;&s;ible for me to be &s;o, &s;ince, angry as I was, that the Count had hid his De&s;ign from me, I neverthele&s;s lov'd him more than ever, when it was not in my power to overcome the &s;ad|ne&s;s that depre&s;t me, notwith&s;tand|ing all the care that the Marque&s;s took to divert me. He liv'd with me after a manner, had rea&s;on to give
<PB N="21" REF="83">me all content; but I ob&s;erv'd that his Grief encreas'd, and his Health continually dimini&s;h'd. I imagin'd his Death would be the occa&s;ion of Troubles; I was in fear of it, and took great care to pre&s;erve it; he fell at la&s;t very Sick, and dyed after he had given me all, to hinder the Di&s;putes might ari&s;e from tho&s;e who were to inherit, and to deprive his Niece of it, who was run away.</P>
<P>I receiv'd no Civilities from <HI>Ble|&s;inac</HI> upon his Death; on the con|trary, his Father declar'd again&s;t me, and ingaging in his Affairs with|out communicating any thing to me, he follow'd all the indirect ways that might be a hinderance to mine. It &s;erv'd neverthele&s;s to advance them. You may think perhaps, Madam, that the condition of be|ing a rich Widow had made me ex|treamly di&s;pos'd to Joy? You mu&s;t not imagine it, 'twas only a trouble to my mind, and I never found my &s;elf &s;o melancholy.</P>
<PB N="22" REF="84">
<P>The advantages my Husband had made me, gave me a true Grief for the lo&s;s of him. I was on the o|ther &s;ide per&s;waded that <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> no longer lov'd me. His proceedings left me no rea&s;on to doubt of it; and although I had been &s;atisfied with him, I could no longer pretend to him becau&s;e he was Marryed; The&s;e thoughts gave me not the li|berty to ta&s;te the Plea&s;ures of a free Condition. Every thing that I &s;aw at <HI>Mondanar,</HI> entertain'd my melan|choly, which made me take a re|&s;olution to return to <HI>Paris,</HI> where I receiv'd no more &s;atisfaction than in <HI>Languedoc.</HI> I carried my affli|ction with me, and though I thought I had done a great deal toward my quiet by flying far from <HI>Ble&s;inac,</HI> I found no repo&s;e where I &s;ought it. But, Madam, a Heart truly con|cern'd does not &s;o &s;oon re&s;olve to be indifferent. We Hate and Love very often by turns, before we can
<PB N="23" REF="84">arrive at that happy in&s;en&s;ibility. The Reputation I had of being rich, and of never wandring from a regu|lar conduct whil&s;t my Husband li|ved, made me be courted by many of great Quality. I accepted of none of the Propo&s;itions were made me, and led to a retired life, that 'twas thought I &s;hould not ea&s;ily be per&s;waded to change it. I &s;aw &s;ome|times the Marchione&s;s <HI>de Montaigre,</HI> becau&s;e &s;he had the &s;ame opinion of the World as I, and &s;he &s;aw no bo|dy, (her Brother the <HI>Chevalier de Marignan</HI> excepted.) What was mo&s;t extraordinary in it, was, That we often pa&s;s'd whole hours without &s;aying any thing: She lov'd to read, and I had a great deal of plea&s;ure to hear her; and 'tis certain, what was our diverti&s;ement, would have been very tire&s;ome to tho&s;e they call the Ladies of the World. Neither did her Brother vi&s;it her often, becau&s;e he lov'd merriment, and 'twas not
<PB N="24" REF="85">to be found with us: But at la&s;t, he in&s;en&s;ibly accu&s;tomed him&s;elf to our manner of living. He told me, that I was the mo&s;t proper to reclaim people from the idle follies of the World, and that I had in&s;pired him with thoughts he had been hitherto free from.</P>
<P>I had &s;o little inclination to be|lieve him, that I propos'd to the Marchione&s;s of <HI>Montaigre</HI> to marry him to a rich woman that was my Relation. He gave no ear to his Si&s;ter, but per&s;i&s;ted always to give me &s;igns of his e&s;teem. I was per|&s;waded that I hated <HI>Ble&s;inac,</HI> and that I &s;hould vex him extremely if I marry'd. For this rea&s;on it was, that I &s;hew'd &s;ome complai&s;ance for <HI>Marignan;</HI> but fearing le&s;t there &s;hould be more of intere&s;t than love in his prote&s;tations, I was re&s;olved to be &s;atisfied.</P>
<P>I caus'd a counterfeit Letter to be writ to me, as if it came from <HI>Lan|guedoc;</HI>
<PB N="25" REF="85">wherein I was adverti&s;ed, That &s;ome of my Husband's Relati|ons had a de&s;ign to exclude me, from the advantages he gave me when he dy'd, by &s;ome Deeds that gave 'em Title to inherit. This dimini&s;h'd nothing from the obliging Senti|ments the <HI>Chevalier de Marignan</HI> had for me; and that which fully per&s;waded me that he truly lov'd me for my own &s;ake, was, that his Elder Brother being kill'd at the Army, he became Heir, and then pre&s;s'd me more than ever to give my con&s;ent to his pa&s;&s;ion. He di&s;|cours'd with my Relations about it; and what&s;oever his own could do, to turn him from that De&s;ign, he marry'd me, and had a Quarrel with the Marchione&s;s <HI>de Montaigre</HI> who was not more willingly di&s;pos'd to it than the others.</P>
<P>I thought I had lov'd him, Ma|dam, and I had many rea&s;ons for it: But I was no &s;ooner marry'd than I
<PB N="26" REF="86">made a &s;cruple of it. What! &s;aid I to my &s;elf, ought <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI>'s fault to in&s;pire me with other Sentiments, than tho&s;e that are the occa&s;ion of grief? A heart may be concern'd once in its life; but it is an inex|cu&s;able weakne&s;s to &s;uffer it to be guilty of a &s;econd Engagement: What have I done! Ought I to pardon my &s;elf for thinking I could be happy with any but <HI>Ble&s;inac?</HI> In vain I endeavoured to live content|edly; nothing could free my mind from the&s;e &s;ad thoughts.</P>
<P>I was not born for quiet, Madam; and if it were your de&s;tiny to be belov'd, it has always been mine to di&s;cover in my &s;elf a continual &s;ource of trouble and inquietude. What care &s;oever I took to hide it, the Count <HI>de Marignan</HI> perceiv'd it. He &s;aid nothing to me of it, and &s;ought rather to remedy than di&s;co|ver my grief. He gave me all the diverti&s;ements he thought capable
<PB N="27" REF="86">to di&s;&s;ipate my melancholy: But I had made a cu&s;tom of it, to which he was forc'd to yield. He &s;aw that I was always melancholy, and I had thereby le&s;s pains to per&s;wade him 'twas the effect of my temper. The greate&s;t affliction was, that I heard the Counte&s;s <HI>de Ble&s;inac</HI> was dead. I was told, She was very little re|gretted by her Husband, and that he had not &s;hewn &s;uch indifference to my Marriage as I imagin'd. The Reflections I made upon this death encreas'd my melancholy; but not to draw more Que&s;tions from my Husband in a Subject, I &s;hould have been &s;orry to enlighten him, I of|ten walk'd alone, finding it a plea|&s;ure to fly the Conver&s;ation of the World. Not long after this, one of my Relations, who had a very fine hou&s;e near <HI>Paris,</HI> de&s;ir'd me to go and pa&s;s two or three days there, a&s;&s;uring me, I &s;hould have the liber|ty to think as much as I pleas'd. I
<PB N="28" REF="87">told my Husband of it, who gave me leave to go this Journey, whil&s;t he took this time to hunt with the Marque&s;s <HI>de Marcilly.</HI></P>
<P>I went to this hou&s;e in my Rela|tions Coach, and I took with me a Gentlewoman and a Foot man only. When I was arriv'd, my Relation left me, and return'd as &s;oon. Shall we go, &s;ays &s;he, into a Summer-hou&s;e in the Garden, whence there is a fine Pro&s;pect? Let us go, &s;aid I; but upon condition you give me the liberty to Think there &s;ome time. My Relation &s;mil'd; and told me, as &s;he brought me to the Garden, She imagin'd thoughtfulne&s;s would plea&s;e me le&s;s than I mention'd. We were &s;oon at the Summer-hou&s;e, and &s;he open'd the Door. I enter'd fir&s;t, thinking to find no Body, and was &s;urpriz'd to &s;ee <HI>Ble&s;inac,</HI> in a Habit very agreeable to the deject|ed Air of his Face. I lookt upon my Relation, to reproach her with
<PB N="29" REF="87">the trick &s;he had play'd me, and was retiring, the engagement, under which I was, not permitting me to expo&s;e my &s;elf to &s;uch a dangerous Conver&s;ation: But they both &s;topt me; and I could not exempt my &s;elf from &s;eeing and hearing <HI>Ble&s;inac,</HI> in whom I di&s;covered the marks of a profound Sadne&s;s. I mu&s;t confe&s;s, Madam, I grew pale at the fight of him, and it put me into &s;o great a perplexity, that it is impo&s;&s;ible for me to give you an account of my thoughts, or of tho&s;e things which he at that in&s;tant &s;aid to me. I on|ly know, that he threw him&s;elf at my feet, and that his eyes &s;aid more than his mouth. As I was fearful in this occa&s;ion of nothing &s;o much as my &s;elf, I turn'd from him as much as I could, to &s;hun the force of his eyes. Ah! Madam, &s;aid he, what have you more to do to me? and why have you re&s;olv'd my revenge before you were certain of my guilt?
<PB N="30" REF="88">'Tis to no purpo&s;e, an&s;wered I, to know whether you're innocent, or no; but 'twas a crime for me to &s;ee you; and though you &s;hould remain whole days the object of my eyes, and I &s;hould be fully convinc'd you gave me not the lea&s;t occa&s;ion of complaint, you would be but lit|tle the happier for it. Suffer me, therefore, to believe that you have offended me; and think for your part what outrages I have commit|ted again&s;t you, and let us not ex|po&s;e our &s;elves to a reconcilement that mu&s;t be attended by a train of Con&s;equences fatal to our repo&s;e. Well, Madam! reply'd he, &s;ince you de&s;ire it, I will never &s;ee you more; but if this mu&s;t be the la&s;t minute, &s;uffer me at lea&s;t to make an explication to you of my acti|ons, that I may not leave you lon|ger in an errour, my honour obli|ges me to undeceive.</P>
<PB N="31" REF="88">
<P>Whil&s;t <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> &s;poke to me, I perceived my feeble Heart was ta|king his part again&s;t me; and my Relation on her &s;ide told me I might hearken to him without a Crime. Pardon me, Madam, continued he, if I begin my ju&s;tification by re|proaching you. You accu&s;e me of Incon&s;tancy; tell me, Madam, what convincing Argument of your Affection did you ever give me? You made me &s;o much your Friend, to confide in me the &s;ecret of your Misfortunes. You &s;uffered me &s;ome|times to vent my Pa&s;&s;ion for you, and you did not forbid me to be|lieve that you had a little tender|ne&s;s for me; but Words were my only happine&s;s, Words of too &s;light a force to hinder tho&s;e thoughts of my e&s;tabli&s;hment, to which (un|kindly) you your &s;elf engaged me. Since this time, Madam, I have been, as well as you, deceived by appear|ances, and I pretend to convince
<PB N="32" REF="89">you that I have had a thou&s;and Rea&s;ons to complain of your pro|ceedings.</P>
<P>I made no an&s;wer to <HI>Ble&s;inac,</HI> becau&s;e I began privately to accu&s;e my &s;elf, and impute to me all the errours in his Conduct. I neverthe|le&s;s told him the condition of our Affairs, and he was equally indiffe|rent whether we &s;hould be angry or have compa&s;&s;ion one for the other.</P>
<P>There is no Puni&s;hment &s;o cruel as the reconciling Duty and Inclina|tion. They have each their tyran|nical Rights, one impo&s;es by Au|thority, but the other draws by Force. I knew well what I owed to my Husband, but I knew better what power a long habitude of Lo|ving exercis'd over a &s;en&s;ible Soul. I marryed the Count <HI>de Marignan</HI> to be reveng'd of <HI>Ble&s;inac,</HI> and in hopes his Merit and Friend&s;hip would bani&s;h from my Heart a Ten|derne&s;s I thought &s;o ill acknowledg'd.
<PB N="33" REF="89"><HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> had not forgot that Ho|nour engag'd him in his Ju&s;tificati|on, and that it could not be effected without di&s;covering all that hap|pen'd to him. I had likewi&s;e a great de&s;ire to hear it; and I no &s;ooner gave him leave to make a Relation of them, but he began in the&s;e Words.</P>
<P>You know, Madam, how my Fa|ther commanded me to court <HI>Cri|&s;ante,</HI> and you are not ignorant of tho&s;e things that preceded Mon|&s;ieur <HI>de Mondanar</HI>'s refu&s;al. A Principle of Honour made me con|ceive that when I had once declar'd my &s;elf, I was oblig'd to pur&s;ue my preten&s;ions. All of our Family en|couraged me to it, and I was even engag'd to it by <HI>Cri&s;ante,</HI> who had an ill opinion of the con&s;ideration I had for her Uncle. I was told by her al&s;o, that &s;he perceiv'd you was not for my Intere&s;t, and would never con&s;ent that I &s;hould carry
<PB N="34" REF="90">her away. And methoughts on the other &s;ide you had acted but very indifferently for the effecting my De&s;igns with your Husband; the knowledge I had, compared with her opinion, made me re&s;olve to di&s;cover nothing of it to you; and add to this, that the &s;tealing of her away being the thing in hand, you would not be angry I imagin'd to ignore it; and &s;ince you was once &s;o earne&s;t for our Marriage, I could not per&s;wade my &s;elf your &s;enti|ments about it &s;hould be &s;o &s;oon alter'd. The&s;e are the Rea&s;ons, Ma|dam, I had not to con&s;ide this &s;e|cret to you. I had every Day In|telligence from <HI>Cri&s;ante</HI> by &s;o many ways that it will be tire&s;ome to tell; neither is the remembrance of it &s;o agreeable to make me de&s;ire it. She found an opportunity to &s;teal the Key of the Draw-Bridge, and take the Impre&s;&s;on of it on Wax, which &s;he &s;ent to me; I caus'd one
<PB N="35" REF="90">to be made, which I gave her, and we agreed that on a certain Day I &s;hould be at the end of the avenue to the Ca&s;tle. She undertook the care to get forth, and 'twas my bu|&s;ine&s;s to expect her.</P>
<P>I do not que&s;tion, Madam, but you were very much &s;urpris'd when you were told the Ca&s;tle was a Fire. This is the Rea&s;on obliged her to it. You had watch'd very late, and the Day breaking when you went to Bed, if by chance the Bridge &s;hould be &s;een down, and it was &s;u&s;pected that &s;he was gone out, &s;he thought you would &s;end after us, unle&s;s you had &s;ome more pre&s;&s;ing engagement. There|fore, without having any further concern for what might happen, &s;he follow'd her own in&s;tinct; and when &s;he and her Maid came to me, they both told me (almo&s;t break|ing their Hearts with laughing) that they had burnt the Quarters. I
<PB N="36" REF="91">found but too much ea&s;ine&s;s to exe|cute this Melancholy De&s;ign; we took our way towards <HI>Ro&uuml;ergue,</HI> where I was a&s;&s;ured of the Baron <HI>de Gou&s;tignac</HI>'s Hou&s;e, who&s;e Wife is my Aunt. They receiv'd us very well, but I knew afterwards I was mi&s;taken, when I thought to find there a perfect Sanctuary.</P>
<P>The Baron had a Son ju&s;t return'd from <HI>Paris,</HI> who was a Mu&s;queteer in the fir&s;t Company. He had a ve|ry gay and brisk Air, and this his Father call'd the way of the Court. The Mu&s;queteer fancyed, that <HI>Cri|&s;ante</HI> being Rich, her Fortune would not at all incommode him; and f he could but arrive to plea&s;e her, there was no rea&s;on the &s;cruple of deceiving a Relation &s;hould be an ob&s;tacle to his De&s;igns. After I had pa&s;s'd &s;ome Days at <HI>Gou&s;tignac,</HI> I de&s;ired my Aunt to take what mea&s;ures &s;he thought nece&s;&s;ary to Marry us at her Hou&s;e; but her
<PB N="37" REF="91">Husband finding always &s;ome difficul|ty in it, &s;he told me at la&s;t with Tears in her Eyes, that I could expect no|thing from his a&s;&s;i&s;tance; that &s;he found her Husband and Son had great De&s;igns upon <HI>Cri&s;ante,</HI> and therefore advis'd me to retire before they had time to execute their re&s;o|lutions. I made u&s;e of this Coun|&s;el, and that Evening (after we had &s;upp'd, and the Baron and Mu&s;que|teer were retir'd to re&s;t) we parted from <HI>Gou&s;tignac.</HI> My only De&s;ign being to leave that Hou&s;e, we fol|low'd no certain way; but after we had walk'd all Night, my <HI>Valet de Chambre</HI> di&s;covered we were not far off from a Fore&s;t, wherein there was a Gla&s;s-Hou&s;e, and that he was acquainted with the Ma&s;ter, and &s;e|veral Gentlemen who belong'd to it. He told us we might pa&s;s there &s;ome Days very conveniently, till we had determin'd which way to re|tire. I propos'd it to <HI>Cri&s;ante,</HI> but
<PB N="38" REF="92">&s;he always took Plea&s;ure in being of an oppo&s;ite Opinion to the re&s;t; and if at la&s;t &s;he yielded, 'twas not till &s;he had given us the trouble of making long and tedious Di&s;putes. We were but two Leagues from the Mountains of <HI>Ro&uuml;ergue</HI> when we were &s;et upon by twelve Thieves. I at fir&s;t thought we had been di&s;cove|red, and that they were &s;ent after us by Mon&s;ieur <HI>de Gou&s;tignac,</HI> but they had only a De&s;ign upon our Money, as we found by their fir&s;t Comple|ments. They robb'd us without Quarter, that is, they took away all our Cloaths, and left us &s;carce any thing to cover us. I had now no occa&s;ion of Eloquence to per|&s;wade <HI>Cri&s;ante</HI> to go to the Gla&s;s-Hou&s;e; but 'twas now a que&s;tion how to get thither, and to make our &s;elves be received, which ap|pear'd very doubtful, in the Equi|page we were left.</P>
<PB N="39" REF="92">
<P>The Per&s;on of <HI>Cri&s;ante</HI> &s;poke lit|tle in her favour, and I had not &s;o good an opinion of my own as to hope from it any better effect; but <HI>Ru&s;at</HI> (thus my <HI>Valet</HI> was call'd) undertook for the event, and we began a long walk for People not accu&s;tomed to go a-foot. We of|ten in the Fore&s;t met with little Habitations, where we receiv'd &s;ome &s;light repa&s;ts compos'd of Bread and Water, which ne|verthele&s;s we relli&s;h'd very well, and we were very happy to meet at Night with one of the&s;e Cottages, for <HI>Cri&s;ante</HI> was quite tir'd, and 'twas with great puni&s;hment the next Day &s;he got to the Gla&s;s-Hou&s;e.</P>
<P>As the di&s;po&s;itions of few Peo|ple re&s;emble, &s;o we were different|ly receiv'd by the Gentlemen. Some laught at us, others pityed us, and &s;ome endeavoured to make di&s;cove|ries into our Adventure, the mo&s;t
<PB N="40" REF="93">rea&s;onable us'd us civilly, judging by our Language, our Manners, and the Cloaths we had left, that we were not unworthy of it. We were offer'd by the&s;e to lodge in their Cabins (for their Hou&s;es de|&s;erve no better names) <HI>Cri&s;ante</HI> &s;taid at the Ma&s;ters of the Gla&s;s-Hou&s;e, who&s;e name was <HI>Fergonce,</HI> and I went to lodge at a Gentlemans call'd <HI>Mondany.</HI></P>
<P>I &s;ent the next Day <HI>Ru&s;at</HI> to my Fathers to let him know what had happen'd to us, and to ask him for what a&s;&s;i&s;tance was re|qui&s;ite to carry us farther if nece&s;|&s;ary, or to bring us back to him if he thought it convenient. I com|manded <HI>Ru&s;at</HI> to enquire al&s;o after you, and to take care to deliver to you a Letter I privately gave him. I forgot to let you know that he had told <HI>Fergonce</HI> we were People of Quality. We di&s;cover'd by what misfortune we came to him
<PB N="41" REF="93">in &s;o ill a condition, and he had the goodne&s;s to accommodate us with Cloaths proper enough for the place we were in.</P>
<P><HI>Cri&s;ante</HI> urg'd me to marry her; but though I intended to do it, a &s;e|cret &s;entiment made me ever find &s;ome rea&s;ons either true or fal&s;e, to defer our Marriage. She rea&s;on'd about it with <HI>Fergonce.</HI> He &s;poke to me of it, and made me &s;o &s;en&s;i|ble of the obligation I had to give this &s;atisfaction to a per&s;on who had &s;hewn &s;o much pa&s;&s;ion as to follow me, that we were privately married at night by a Brother of his, who was a Clergy-man. Ah, Madam, if you had &s;een with what Melan|choly I pa&s;t that hideous frightful night, and the days that &s;oon fol|low'd it, you would have ju&s;tified me your &s;elf. I thought of nothing but you, and the con&s;ideration of Riches, which had inveigled me in|to Wedlock, appeared to me then
<PB N="42" REF="94">the cau&s;e of all my misfortunes.</P>
<P><HI>Cri&s;ante</HI> made not &s;o &s;trict an ex|amination of my thoughts, &s;he took me as I was, and I had not little to &s;uffer from her Care&s;&s;es and ill Hu|mour, &s;ince they were both in ex|treams. But my repentance was not &s;ufficient for your revenge; love mu&s;t to perfect it, draw me into more per&s;ecutions. I have told you, methinks, I lodg'd at <HI>Monda|ny</HI>'s, but I have not mentioned a Si|&s;ter who liv'd with him. This maid, who was call'd <HI>Diana,</HI> fan&s;yed I &s;hould be her <HI>Endymion,</HI> and made many advances to a Commerce, of which I took no notice, becau&s;e I was not in a humour for plea&s;ures of that nature. But &s;he was not di&s;couraged at the fir&s;t &s;igns of in|difference I &s;hewed her, &s;he was hand&s;ome, and well knew was capa|ble of generating Love in a heart that was not already engaged. She ap|rehended then if I had any en|gagement
<PB N="43" REF="94">with <HI>Cri&s;ante,</HI> it could be only upon the &s;core of intere&s;t, and it would not be difficult for her to break it. She often told me that I had not a curious judgment, and if I wanted good rea&s;ons to convali|date my choice, 'twould be hard for me to &s;ave the reputation of my di&s;cretion.</P>
<P>I would not give her any occa&s;i|on of trouble, but in complai&s;ance, flattered her weakne&s;s, which after|wards, had like to have co&s;t me my life. She told her Brother therefore that I lov'd her, and if he would di&s;|cover it to <HI>Cri&s;ante,</HI> perhaps he might gain her affections. She was of a humour to refu&s;e nothing to her Pa&s;|&s;ion. <HI>Mondany</HI> was full of what his Si&s;ter told him; they knew I had &s;tole away <HI>Cri&s;ante,</HI> but they did not &s;u&s;pect we were marryed, &s;o that <HI>Mondany</HI> flatter'd him&s;elf with &s;ucce&s;s. He made her many little Pre&s;ents of his own Workman&s;hip,
<PB N="44" REF="95">and often gave her concerts of Haut|boys and Flutes; neither was I an|gry &s;he &s;hould be employ'd in the&s;e diverti&s;ements, that I might have the more lei&s;ure to be pen&s;ive. She told me one Day with a kind of joy, that <HI>Mondany</HI> had made a di&s;covery to her, that I lov'd his Si|&s;ter, which was followed by a de|claration of his Pa&s;&s;ion. I advis'd her to turn it into diver&s;ion, and be &s;ure not to confe&s;s any thing of our Marriage.</P>
<P><HI>Mondany</HI> was as hand&s;ome as his Si&s;ter was fair. He was not igno|rant of his value; and looking up|on me as the only ob&s;tacle to his de|&s;igns, he had a mind to be rid of me. He de&s;ir'd his Si&s;ter to endea|vour what &s;he could to encrea&s;e my pa&s;&s;ion that he might have the more time to engage <HI>Cri&s;ante,</HI> by whom he &s;aid, he was not ill recei|ved.</P>
<P><HI>Diana</HI> &s;erv'd her Brother accord|ing
<PB N="45" REF="95">to his de&s;ires; and this artificial Maid very dexterou&s;ly di&s;covered to me, that <HI>Cri&s;ante</HI> entertain'd him after a manner favourable enough to per&s;wade &s;he had a de&s;ign to mar|ry him. Whil&s;t <HI>Diana</HI> did what was po&s;&s;ible to make her &s;elf be be|lov'd by me, <HI>Mondany</HI> was taking mea&s;ures to make me not capable to di&s;pute <HI>Cri&s;ante</HI> with him. I &s;aw one Morning a man come into his hou&s;e, who lookt upon me with &s;uch earne&s;tne&s;s, as if he had thought to have &s;een me in another place. I retir'd not to give him the time to recal his memory, and I went to <HI>Fergonce</HI>'s to &s;ee <HI>Cri&s;ante,</HI> who was not very well that day. The fear of di&s;covering our Marriage was the rea&s;on we lodg'd not together. I &s;taid with her till the Evening, when there was a great noi&s;e heard not far from the Furnace, and a report that <HI>Mondany</HI> was kill'd. I went to know the truth of the acci|dent,
<PB N="46" REF="96">and I &s;aw a man dragg'd vio|lently along, as the Author of the Murder. I knew it was him who lookt &s;o earne&s;tly upon me in the Morning, and I told them who us'd him &s;o roughly, I believ'd he was not guilty, becau&s;e I took him for <HI>Mondany</HI>'s Friend. <HI>Mondany</HI> was at the &s;ame time brought hither. I approach'd to &s;ee him; and find|ing but little life remaining, I fol|low'd the re&s;t who carry'd him into his hou&s;e, and employ'd my &s;elf, like them, in endeavouring to bring him to him&s;elf: But as he recover'd his Sen&s;es, he &s;eem'd more di&s;turb'd at the &s;ight of me. I fan&s;i'd my pre&s;ence afflicted him, and upon this thought I went out.</P>
<P>He that had wounded him, call'd me (&s;eeing me go by) to tell me the truth of the misfortune. I know not, &s;ays he, for what mo|tive <HI>Mondany</HI> would take away your life; but he &s;ent for me, I
<PB N="47" REF="96">know well, from the Mountains with that intent; he &s;hew'd me this Morning a place, where in the E|vening, he &s;aid, you us'd to walk; and there we had made choice of a Tree, from whence I was hired to &s;hoot you. He caus'd me to ob|&s;erve your Per&s;on and Cloaths, le&s;t I &s;hould mi&s;take; and 'tis an hour &s;ince he told me 'twas time to take my Po&s;t. He help'd me up in|to the Tree; and was giving me my Gun, the Muzzle towards him, which by accident he di&s;charg'd, and kill'd him&s;elf. Whil&s;t this mi&s;erable Man was telling this &s;tory to me, <HI>Mondany</HI> did the like, and I no longer wondered why my &s;ight &s;hould be trouble&s;ome to him. He dyed, and his imprudent Si&s;ter finding her &s;elf concern'd a little in this misfortune, fled away, no one knowing what was become of her. I was unwilling to have my name nois'd about in this Affair, which
<PB N="48" REF="97">made me expect <HI>Ru&s;at</HI> with great impatience, when at la&s;t he arri|ved.</P>
<P>My fir&s;t care was for you, Ma|dam; I &s;hew'd no earne&s;tne&s;s but to enquire after you, and how you had receiv'd my Letter. He told me that you refus'd to read it, and had tore it in a thou&s;and pieces, ne|ver giving him any attention when he &s;poke about my Affairs, by which he gue&s;s'd you very much di&s;pos'd to pardon me the taking a|way of <HI>Cri&s;ante;</HI> and added, that many things which anger made you utter, gave him rea&s;on to believe you had won the good opinion of <HI>Mondanar,</HI> by the hatred only you made appear to me. What &s;hall I &s;ay, Madam? I had not the lea&s;t Cha|grin at your anger, I &s;tood more in fear of your indifference.</P>
<P>After <HI>Ru&s;at</HI> had given me an ac|count of your concerns, he told me my Affairs were in an ill condition,
<PB N="49" REF="97">that there was no hopes of return|ing to my Father, much dejected by my misfortunes. He &s;ent me a Lit|ter, and every thing that was nece&s;|&s;ary for a long Journey, the difficul|ty was in finding a place to retreat to. I had many Friends would have received me, but I had &s;ome Rea&s;ons not to de&s;ire it. I would not trou|ble my Friends with the ill di&s;po&s;i|tion and humour of Madam <HI>de Ble|&s;inac;</HI> &s;he had continual quarrels with <HI>Fergonce</HI>'s Wife and Daugh|ters, I delivered them from it at la&s;t, after I had acquitted in part the obligations they had done me, and re&s;olv'd to go towards <HI>Pompidour.</HI></P>
<P>We had been two Months at this Place, when pa&s;&s;ing by the Door of a Covenant, I &s;aw a crowd of People: curio&s;ity made me enter, and I &s;oon perceived &s;ome young Woman in|tended to take the habit. I went forwards with many others to &s;ee with what Courage &s;he would re|nounce
<PB N="50" REF="98">the World, and never was there a &s;urpri&s;e like mine, when I perceiv'd it was <HI>Diana,</HI> that <HI>Diana</HI> whom I have been mentioning to you. Although &s;he was much bu|&s;ied in acting her part, &s;he ca&s;t her Eyes upon me, and the &s;ight of me &s;truck her with &s;uch concern, that &s;he fell in a &s;wound, and the Cere|mony was oblig'd to cea&s;e, never to be begun again. <HI>Diana</HI> not ima|gining but I came to <HI>Pompidour</HI> in pur&s;uit of her. Love was not &s;o dead in her Heart but my pre&s;ence reviv'd it. I was therefore no &s;oon|er return'd to my Lodgings, but a Man de&s;ir'd to &s;peak with me, and gave me a note from <HI>Diana,</HI> which conjur'd me to come and &s;ee her.</P>
<P>I &s;hould have denied it, had not the Me&s;&s;enger told me, &s;he was re|&s;olv'd to come in ca&s;e I refus'd her a Vi&s;it. I ask'd him if &s;he had any Relations at <HI>Pompidour,</HI> he told me an Aunt. I went to the Convent
<PB N="51" REF="98">where <HI>Diana</HI> was, who &s;aid very near the &s;ame things to me &s;he had done at the Gla&s;s-Hou&s;e, told me her manner of conduct with her Brother, and that it was not &s;o much his Death as my indifferency was the occa&s;ion of her turning Nun: but I no &s;ooner &s;aw you, continued &s;he, then I chang'd my intentions, in hopes you had more favourable thoughts for me.</P>
<P>This Di&s;cour&s;e was accompa|ny'd with &s;o many Tears, that I thought I &s;hould have been forc'd to pity her; but the remembrance of her artifices before very much enabled me to re&s;i&s;t it. I al&s;o, Madam, made u&s;e of your Idea, and the&s;e con&s;iderations oblig'd me to tell her, 'twas in vain &s;he gave me the&s;e kind wi&s;hes, that being no longer in my own di&s;po&s;al, 'twas impo&s;&s;ible for me to be hers.</P>
<P>She ea&s;ily under&s;tood I was mar|ryed,
<PB N="52" REF="99">and di&s;&s;embled &s;o well the an|ger &s;he conceived at it, that I thought &s;he began to hearken to Rea&s;on. I left her, and 'twas &s;ome|time &s;ince I had heard of her. I knew only that &s;he had for&s;aken the Con|vent and lived with her Aunt. But admire, Madam, to what extremities &s;he was brought by her De&s;pair; one Evening when &s;ome Company of the Town were at Cards with Ma|dam <HI>de Ble&s;inac,</HI> I was told that one de&s;ired to &s;peak with me about an important affair; it was not dark e|nough to have occa&s;ion for a light, and yet it was &s;o ob&s;cure, that I could not at fir&s;t di&s;cern the Per&s;on that &s;poke to me; 'twas <HI>Diana</HI> in Mans Apparel. She &s;poke &s;ome confus'd words to me, whil&s;t &s;he was preparing for her De&s;ign. 'Twas in &s;uch perplexity that I was per|&s;waded &s;he was mad; but &s;he &s;oon explain'd her meaning, for when
<PB N="53" REF="99">my Head was turn'd to call for lights, I felt my &s;elf &s;tabb'd with a Dagger. She intended to do it to purpo&s;e, but her Hand faltered, and gave me notwith&s;tanding a con|&s;iderable Wound, &s;triking afterward the Dagger into her own Brea&s;t. I call'd out, they came to me, and you may well gue&s;s how every one was a&s;toni&s;hed at this horrid &s;pe|ctacle. <HI>Diana</HI> was faln on the ground, and raved like one that had lo&s;t her rea&s;on. I was unwilling the occa&s;ion of this &s;hould be known, I agreed with the Aunt, and it was to pa&s;s for di&s;tinction. This unhappy Creature would not &s;uffer her Wounds to be dre&s;s'd, &s;he fell into a Feaver and dyed. As it is impo&s;&s;ible to conceal long, acci|dents of this nature: &s;o I was afraid this might di&s;cover where I was; and for this rea&s;on I left <HI>Pompidour</HI> &s;ooner than I intended. My Wounds were not healed. Madam <HI>de Ble&s;i|nac</HI>
<PB N="54" REF="100">was almo&s;t always indi&s;pos'd, and I was extremely weary of the Life I led, I took therefore a re&s;olu|tion to return to my Fathers in &s;pight of all mi&s;changes. I carryed Ma|dam <HI>de Ble&s;inac</HI> with me, and I found my Affairs were very much altered &s;ince the&s;e three Months that I had heard nothing.</P>
<P>My Father gave us a very cold reception: for the advantages you receiv'd by the Marque&s;s <HI>de Monda|nar</HI>'s Death, having very much di|mini&s;h'd the hopes of my Wi&s;es Fortune, had put him out of hu|mour. He took no great care, I ob&s;erved, to hide the rea&s;on of it. For my part, Madam, I was only concern'd at the di&s;tance we were from you, and for fear my Marri|age had di&s;pleas'd you. Till now I did not know preci&s;ely what thoughts Madam <HI>de Ble&s;inac</HI> had of you; but when &s;he &s;aw with what indif|ference I received the News of the
<PB N="55" REF="100">lo&s;s of her E&s;tate, &s;he told me that I de&s;ir'd it rather in your Hands, and that &s;he was not ignorant of the Affection I profe&s;s'd to you. I did my endeavours to undeceive her, but &s;he flew into a violent Pa&s;&s;on, and told me &s;he had convincing Proofs of my In&s;idelity, which &s;he would not mention during our Journey. In fine, Madam, &s;he &s;hew'd me the Letter I writ to you, and confe&s;s'd &s;he had compell'd <HI>Ru&s;at</HI> to put it into her Hands, and give me that an&s;wer when he came back.</P>
<P>You may imagine how angry I was at <HI>Ru&s;at</HI>'s perfidiou&s;ne&s;s, and I made him as &s;en&s;ible of it as he de|&s;erv'd. He told me for his excu&s;e, that Madam <HI>de Ble&s;inac</HI> a&s;&s;ur'd him &s;he would give me a rea&s;on why I &s;hould approve the not delivering the Letter, and that &s;he would take an opportunity to tell me of it when I &s;hould not be angry. 'Tis impo&s;&s;ble, Madam, to think with
<PB N="56" REF="101">what di&s;&s;imulation &s;he kept this &s;e|cret; but when it was once di&s;cove|red, &s;he ince&s;&s;antly reproach'd me that I was an Enemy to her Inte|re&s;ts, and only regarded yours. Di&s;|agreements by degrees in&s;inuated in|to our conver&s;ations, and di&s;orders began to ari&s;e.</P>
<P>But that which compleated our falling out was, being not able to &s;uffer <HI>Ru&s;at</HI> any longer, &s;ince his per|fidiou&s;ne&s;s, I di&s;charg'd him not|with&s;tanding the intreaties of Ma|dam <HI>de Ble&s;inac</HI> to pardon him. From this time we were never of a mind, and &s;he often drove her vi|olence to extremity. I have alrea|dy told you that her Health was ve|ry doubtful, her continual Melan|choly alter'd her extreamly, and &s;he fell into a Feaver that carryed her off in &s;ix Days.</P>
<P>She refus'd to &s;ee me in her Sick|ne&s;s: I granted her de&s;ires, and &s;uf|fer'd her to dye in quiet. I &s;hew'd
<PB N="57" REF="101">moderation in this change, and, not di&s;covering much joy nor great &s;or|row, kept a conduct which was ap|prov'd. But, Madam, your Marri|age with the Count <HI>de Marignan</HI> put me beyond my rea&s;on. 'Twas at this News I gave &s;uch marks of a &s;en&s;ible and true grief, that I aban|don'd my &s;elf to de&s;pair. I fell &s;ick, and for two months every Body thought I &s;hould have dy'd. I know not, Madam, for what rea&s;on I liv'd, my life was a trouble to me, and I took no remedy to pre&s;erve it. Scarce had I left my Bed, when I was very impatient to be at <HI>Paris,</HI> without knowing preci&s;ely why I de&s;ired it. It could not be hopes that drew me, &s;ince nothing was to be expected from your anger, which had exe|cuted the mo&s;t cruel Sentence up|on me. 'Twas only to be in the &s;ame place with you, that I might &s;ometimes have the joy to &s;ee you either by chance, or the great indu|&s;try
<PB N="58" REF="102">I would u&s;e to contrive it.</P>
<P>The deaths of Mon&s;ieur <HI>de Mon|danar,</HI> and Madam <HI>de Ble&s;inac,</HI> made me end my affairs with more ea&s;e, and put me into a condition to appear in the World.</P>
<P>I parted from <HI>Languedoe</HI> for <HI>Pa|ris,</HI> where I have &s;een none but your Relation, whom, after many con|ver&s;ations, I made &s;o &s;en&s;ible of my mi&s;erable condition, that &s;he pro|mis'd me to deceive you, and bring you here, to procure me the only con&s;olation I am capable of.</P>
<P>Thus <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> ended his Relation, and &s;o firmly per&s;waded me, that I no longer doubted his fidelity. We were not neverthele&s;s the more hap|py: I could do nothing for his qui|et, but would di&s;turb mine. I ap|prehended al&s;o that the&s;e kind of in|terviews were indecent, and might prove of ill con&s;equence. In fine, Madam, I was unwilling to enter|tain an affection &s;o dangerous for my
<PB N="59" REF="102">honour; but what power is there in the fears of an Admirer who de|&s;erves to be belov'd!</P>
<P><HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> appear'd &s;o concern'd, that I cou'd not refu&s;e to &s;ee him &s;ometimes with my Relation, nor cover my heart &s;o heart &s;o clo&s;e, but he might di&s;cover I lov'd him more than became me. I re&s;tor'd him &s;ighs for &s;ighs, tears for tears, and we appear'd to be in more need of pity, than before we met. 'Twas late before this fir&s;t Conver&s;ation was ended. My Kin&s;woman would not permit <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> to return that Evening to <HI>Paris;</HI> and becau&s;e &s;he thought it not fit for him to be &s;een in the hou&s;e, he remain'd in the Summer-room, where he had a Sup|per privately carry'd him by a Gen|tlewoman in whom &s;he had an intire confidence. She al&s;o bid his Ser|vants &s;tay for their Ma&s;ter at a Neighbouring Village. After Sup|per we return'd to the Summer|hou&s;e,
<PB N="60" REF="103">where we pa&s;s'd the greate&s;t part of the Night. I in&s;en&s;ibly for|got to tell <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> I would have him return the next Day, and I left him without mentioning it. When I propos'd it to my Kin&s;woman to bid him, Be gone early, &s;he &s;aid, That he mu&s;t &s;tay till Night, le&s;t he be &s;een; and I was not angry, that there was a good rea&s;on to keep him: The unhappy have few Days of quiet. My Kin&s;woman and I went in the Morning to &s;ee <HI>Ble&s;i|nac:</HI> He was very de&s;irous to know all that had happen'd to me. I granted his Reque&s;t, and had rela|ted the pa&s;&s;ages as far as the trouble of my mind when I took a re&s;o|lution to marry the Count <HI>de Ma|rignan.</HI> The remembrance was the occa&s;ion of &s;ome tears, which in &s;pight of me were &s;hedding, when my Kin&s;woman, who was at the Window, &s;aw my Husband coming, he was already &s;o near us, that it
<PB N="61" REF="103">was impo&s;&s;ible to get out before he was at the Door.</P>
<P><HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> threw him&s;elf ha&s;tily up|on the Bed, and we met the Count, but with what concern you may imagine. He ob&s;erv'd it, and drawing Symptoms for this, and from my eyes, that were not yet dry, he enter'd into Su&s;picions, which neverthele&s;s he &s;o covered, as to &s;hew no &s;ign of 'em to us. 'Twas Dinner-time, and a Foot-man came to tell us it was upon the Table. This forc'd the Count to go with us to Dinner; and he obligingly told me, as we cro&s;s'd the Garden, that every place without me, was tire|&s;ome to him. He had left hunting to come to me; and this in&s;tance of his tenderne&s;s made me angry with my &s;elf for having &s;o little acknow|ledgment. There was little Di&s;|cour&s;e at Dinner; and my Kin&s;wo|man, whom my Husband &s;trictly ob&s;erv'd, had &s;carcely an opportu|nity
<PB N="62" REF="104">to tell me in a low Voice, I &s;hould propo&s;e to go to <HI>Paris</HI> that Day, to &s;hew my indifference for the place; but my Husband, who&s;e Eyes were always on the Summer-Hou&s;e in the Garden, would not go before he had &s;atisfyed his Curi|o&s;ity, which we &s;oon di&s;covered, when he told us we might fir&s;t pa&s;s &s;ome hours in the Garden.</P>
<P>My Relations Gentlewoman, who was very dextrous, and knew the rea&s;on of our inquietude, had ap|ply'd a remedy. She had walk'd round the out&s;ide of the Garden, and had brought a Ladder to one of the Windows of the Summer-Hou&s;e, by which <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> de&s;cended, then &s;he conducted him to a Country|mans Hou&s;e to &s;tay there till he heard from her. I was in a horrible fear, and ignorant of the good turn &s;he did me.</P>
<P>No &s;ooner had we din'd, but my Husband was for going to the Sum|mer-Hou&s;e.
<PB N="63" REF="104">My Kin&s;woman, who had the Key, thought to ab&s;ent her &s;elf for &s;ome moments that &s;he might not give it him, but it was as dange|rous to refu&s;e it, as to deliver it with too much a&s;&s;uredne&s;s. Then &s;he re&s;olv'd to put &s;omething into it, to hinder it from turning in the lock; but this invention did not pro&s;per, My Husband remedyed it, open'd the Door, and went directly to the Bed, and threw him&s;elf there|on, to di&s;cover no &s;u&s;picion; but &s;eeing the Window that look'd from the Garden open, he &s;hak'd his Head, I ob&s;erv'd, to my great ap|prehen&s;ion.</P>
<P>I began to recover, when he found upon the Beds head <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI>'s Crape Hatband; he was con&s;ider|ing upon it &s;ome time, and my Kin&s;woman pretending to gue&s;s who&s;e it &s;hould be, &s;aid &s;o many came to the Hou&s;e in her ab&s;ence, that it was impo&s;&s;ible for her to di|vine it.</P>
<PB N="64" REF="105">
<P>This did not clear the Count's &s;u&s;|picious, it rather increas'd them, and he re&s;olv'd henceforward to ob&s;erve me &s;o &s;trictly, as to ju&s;tifie me or condemn me without incertitude. We return'd that Night to <HI>Paris,</HI> and I &s;ince knew <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> did the like. My Kin&s;woman, who often came to &s;ee me, brought me News of him; and though &s;he was &s;u&s;pect|ed by my Husband, he gave us the liberty of a free conver&s;ation.</P>
<P>She had the art to per&s;wade me, and we agreed upon a &s;econd meet|ing at a Painters call'd <HI>Agar</HI> in <HI>Rich|elieu-&s;treet.</HI> My Husband had me dogg'd; and, when he was told where I was, went privately to a Neighbouring Hou&s;e to ob&s;erve us. We pa&s;s'd two Hours at <HI>Agar</HI>'s be|fore we thought of parting. <HI>Ble|&s;inac</HI> went fir&s;t, he was in Mourn|ing; and my Husband, remembring the Crape Hat-band, did not doubt but it was left there by the &s;ame Man
<PB N="65" REF="105">came out from the Painters Hou&s;e; he did what he could to remark his Face, but could not di&s;tingui&s;h his Features. He had heard much of <HI>Ble&s;inac,</HI> and the e&s;teem he had for me; he knew that his Wife was Dead, and there wanted no more to a&s;certain his doubts; he came not to <HI>Agar</HI>'s, but retir'd before us. I found my Mother at our hou&s;e; &s;he expected me, to let me know, that my Husband had been making his complaints to her. I had not much hard&s;hip in ju&s;tifying my &s;elf to her, and to per&s;wade her that the complai&s;ance to &s;ee <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> was not a Crime capable of bringing me in|to great misfortunes. It is true, &s;aid my Mother, but Husbands perceive not &s;o &s;oon the ju&s;tifications as the accu&s;ations; and I advi&s;e you to leave off all Commerce with a Man that is &s;u&s;pected by the Count <HI>de Ma|rignan.</HI></P>
<PB N="66" REF="106">
<P>I promis'd my Mother, and &s;he remained with me to endeavour to di&s;&s;ipate the ill Humour of my Husband; but notwith&s;tanding all her endeavours, we mu&s;t go the next Day towards <HI>E&s;tajac,</HI> an E&s;tate of his near the Pyrenean Mountains. And he had the precaution to turn away all my old Servants both Wo|men and Men, and to give me new ones I had never &s;een. The pre|parations for this Journey were made with &s;uch diligence, that we went preci&s;ely at the hour he in|tended. We were to go by <HI>Bour|deaux,</HI> and we neither &s;poke all the way of his Chagrin, or any thing el&s;e; &s;o that we pa&s;s'd two Hundred Leagues without &s;aying a Word. You may believe for my part I thought often on the Count <HI>de Ble&s;inac,</HI> and reflected upon the pa&s;&s;ages of my Life.</P>
<P>I &s;hew'd no melancholy to leave <HI>Paris;</HI> and I parted from it with
<PB N="67" REF="106">&s;uch indifference, that my Husband ought to have believed I de&s;ign'd to &s;acrifice my Plea&s;ures to my Duty. When we arriv'd at <HI>Estajac,</HI> he bid me chu&s;e an apartment in the hou&s;e, which he de&s;ign'd I &s;hould not come out of. I did what he de&s;ir'd, went into my Pri&s;on, and accu&s;tom'd my &s;elf to it without much difficulty. My Husband pa&s;s'd his days very mournfully, the hou&s;e was unplea|&s;antly &s;ituated, and he had the only plea&s;ure of keeping me Pris'ner; he was continually troubled with the thoughts of <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> and me; and when by chance he has ca&s;t his eyes towards my Chamber-Win|dow, if I happen'd to be there, he turn'd 'em off with indignation.</P>
<P>He had a fancy to adorn an A|partment; and I believe had al&s;o an intention to learn to de&s;ign: I knew by one of the Women who waited upon me, that he had &s;ent to <HI>Paris</HI> for a Painter; and let the
<PB N="68" REF="107">charge be never &s;o great, would have one of the mo&s;t excellent. I never left my Chamber but when Company came; and I mu&s;t con|fe&s;s, the dejected condition he &s;eem'd to have, as he pa&s;s'd by my Window, rais'd my pity, and I determin'd to rea&s;on with him about it. I ask'd his permi&s;&s;ion to do it, which after much pains he accord|ed.</P>
<P>I &s;poke to him as the Condition of Affairs requir'd, and always with great &s;ubmi&s;&s;ion. He gave me no interruption: but afterwards look|ing upon me with indignation, You drive the boldne&s;s too far, &s;aid he, to expo&s;e your &s;elf to the reproaches I may ju&s;tly give you: Is it po&s;&s;i|ble that you &s;hould think I am ig|norant of your in&s;idelity? and be|cau&s;e I &s;uffer, as a man of courage ought, an outrage of this nature, do you think I am le&s;s &s;en&s;ible of the abu&s;e you have committed? I
<PB N="69" REF="107">thought to have ju&s;tify'd my &s;elf by a &s;incere confe&s;tion of what had pa&s;s'd between <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> and me, from the fir&s;t day of our acquain|tance, till my departure from <HI>Pa|ris.</HI> But it gave him more rea&s;on to have me than pardon me. He fan&s;y'd I marry'd him only to be re|veng'd on <HI>Ble&s;inac;</HI> and the&s;e thoughts carry'd him into Violen|ces, made me apprehend his anger. He &s;hould rather excu&s;e me, he &s;aid, to have made an affair &s;ince Marriage, than to have con&s;ented to that, when my heart was full of pa&s;&s;ion for another.</P>
<P>He refus'd me the permi&s;&s;ion to &s;peak to him, &s;ince this day; and I only knew he was fall'n into a deep Melancholy. He was for &s;everal Months in this Condition; and I was &s;o much the more di&s;turb'd by it, as I imagin'd, by what they told me, I had rea&s;on to fear &s;ome dau|gerous re&s;olution again&s;t my life.
<PB N="70" REF="108">But two Painters arriv'd at la&s;t from <HI>Paris,</HI> who a&s;&s;i&s;ted very much to his diver&s;ion: the one was a great Arti&s;t, the other had divers Talents to plea&s;e; He not only painted, but had Wit, he was a Poet, Mu&s;ici|an, Comedian, and was always mer|ry. It is true, my Husband was &s;urpriz'd to &s;ee &s;o many Excellencies in a man of his condition; but he was afterwards more, when he found he had be&s;ides, a great deal of &s;olid Knowledge, and that the Qualities of his Soul &s;urpa&s;s'd tho&s;e outward appearances. The&s;e made &s;o great an impre&s;&s;ion upon the Count <HI>de Marignan,</HI> that in a little time he began to return to his natural Gaiety. <HI>Dormont</HI> (&s;o was the Painter call'd) gave him every day &s;ome new diver&s;ion. Sometimes he would repeat a Play, and perform'd the Parts &s;o well, that <HI>Floridor</HI> ne|ver &s;ucceeded better in a Pa&s;&s;ionate, nor <HI>Povi&s;on</HI> in a Comical Part.
<PB N="71" REF="108">Sometimes he would imitate the Ita|lians, and &s;ing to the Guitarre, and danc'd with &s;uch Art and Air as was altogether Charming.</P>
<P>I had a Woman who was not confin'd with me; and had ne|verthele&s;s the liberty to come into my Apartment. She was call'd <HI>Ro&s;e;</HI> &s;he often talk'd to me about the Painter; and I had rea&s;on to believe, by what &s;he &s;aid, &s;he did not hate him. Ah! Madam, &s;aid &s;he to me one day, if you knew but what wit, and how many de&s;irable qualities <HI>Dormont</HI> po&s;&s;e&s;&s;es, you would not be &s;urpriz'd at Mon&s;ieur <HI>de Marignan</HI>'s Opinion of him. I know not, I mu&s;t confe&s;s, any Bo|dy &s;o capable to in&s;pire love; but I doubt he will be otherwi&s;e to receive it: for generally people who are &s;o hand&s;om, have &s;o good thoughts of them&s;elves, that they are indif|ferent for others. Not that <HI>Dor|mont</HI> is &s;o to me, added &s;he, he
<PB N="72" REF="109">pays many civilities to me; but I believe 'em rather the effects of good breeding, than the marks of an in|clination. But, <HI>Ro&s;e,</HI> &s;aid I, is it impo&s;&s;ible to &s;ee this Painter? He dyes with de&s;ire to be brought to you, reply'd &s;he. He has ask'd me a thou&s;and Que&s;tions about your manner of living, and what diver|&s;ions you us'd to mitigate your melancholy. You &s;hould already have &s;een him more than once, had not I been afraid of di&s;plea&s;ing you. I told <HI>Ro&s;e,</HI> I did not think ill of it; and &s;he went to acquaint him with what &s;he had obtain'd from me.</P>
<P>He accompany'd her the next day into my Chamber: But judge, Ma|dam, if you plea&s;e, how I was &s;ur|priz'd, when I found <HI>Dormont</HI> to be the Count <HI>de Ble&s;inac.</HI> 'Twas a happine&s;s for me, that <HI>Ro&s;e</HI> was &s;o prepo&s;&s;e&s;s'd with her &s;entiments that &s;he did not perceive my trouble. I
<PB N="73" REF="109">took but little plea&s;ure to &s;ee the Count, my heart was full of fear for the con&s;equence of that interview, and the dangers he was expos'd to. When I was recover'd a little from the a&s;toni&s;hment to &s;ee him, I was extremely oblig'd to him, I &s;aid, for the care he took to divert my Hu&s;|band in this &s;olitude. He an&s;wer'd me with much re&s;pect; but dur&s;t not &s;peak to me privately: Yet hearing me call for a Basket where|in was my Work, he run to fetch it me, and very dextrou&s;ly &s;lip'd into it a Letter. And after I had di&s;|cours'd with him aloud, a minute longer, I made him a Sign to be gone.</P>
<P><HI>Ro&s;e</HI> and he went out; I &s;hut my Chamber-door, and open'd <HI>Ble&s;i|nac</HI>'s Letter, which acquainted me with the vexation he had at my Husband's forcing me in that man|ner to leave <HI>Paris,</HI> the re&s;olution he had taken to come and &s;hare in
<PB N="74" REF="110">my misfortunes, and to undertake any thing, might put an end to 'em. He told me afterwards what he did to accompany the Painter to <HI>E&s;ta|jac,</HI> that he conceal'd his birth, and per&s;waded him he had an intention to perfect him&s;elf in that Art; he told me al&s;o what progre&s;s he had made in the good opinion of the Count <HI>de Marignan,</HI> and how much he had &s;uffered this month he was here, for not &s;eeing me. But re|&s;olving not to hazard any thing im|prudently, he cho&s;e rather to be de|priv'd of that plea&s;ure, than to ex|po&s;e me to any new di&s;order. And the Letter ended with tender pro|te&s;tations of an inviolable pa&s;&s;ion. I had Paper that &s;erv'd me to cover my Work; but I had neither Ink nor Pen, and I could not make <HI>Ble|&s;inac</HI> an An&s;wer; yet Love, that is ingenious, made me remember a Compo&s;ition, that left no &s;tain up|on the Paper; and the Letters
<PB N="75" REF="110">could not be di&s;cern'd, till it was held near the Fire. I made u&s;e of it, to let <HI>Dormont</HI> know, I would ab&s;olutely have him depart from <HI>E|stajac.</HI> The difficulty was to teach him the Secret to read what I writ: I therefore told <HI>Ro&s;e,</HI> I had a mind to learn to de&s;ign, and that &s;he &s;hould bring <HI>Dormont</HI> privately to give me the fir&s;t in&s;tructions. She did what I de&s;ir'd her; but as the affection &s;he had, made her always near him, I had only the opportunity to tell him how he might read what I writ to him.</P>
<P>The danger I underwent in the&s;e interviews made me intend to forbid them, permitting him to write to me with the compo&s;ition I us'd. <HI>Ro&s;e</HI> brought me his Letters, think|ing &s;he had brought me nothing but a Paper upon which &s;he &s;aw &s;ome Flowers drawn. I endeavour|ed underneath to imitate them, and &s;ent him his Paper back. He was at
<PB N="76" REF="111">fir&s;t contented with this intelligence, but Love, that is continually form|ing new Projects, made him find out a &s;ure means to open the Doors of my Pri&s;on. He often &s;ought an opportunity to talk with the Count <HI>de Marignan</HI> about me, and at la&s;t it arrived. There was an Echo in the Garden, where my Husband us'd to make <HI>Dormont</HI> &s;ing.</P>
<P>I remember as I was at my Win|dow to hear him, my Husband per|ceived me, and told <HI>Dormont,</HI> if he had a mind to plea&s;e me, he mu&s;t &s;ing a melancholy compa&s;&s;ionate Air that &s;hould expre&s;s the rigour of a long vexatious &s;eparation; if you have none melancholy enough, make one <HI>ex tempore. Dormont</HI> thought for &s;ome time, and after|wards &s;ung the&s;e Words.</P>
<Q><L>Such tedious ab&s;ence who did e're en|dure?</L>
<L>And not allay'd with thoughts of a return:</L>
<PB N="77" REF="111">
<L>Flattery can never make me hope a Cure,</L>
<L>But thus re&s;olve perpetually to burn.</L>
<L>In other Brea&s;ts let meaner grief be plac'd,</L>
<L>Whil&s;t I am pleas'd with mine by its degree;</L>
<L>Such mighty &s;ufferings never any grac'd,</L>
<L>And Death and Love my only Ob|jects be.</L></Q>
<P>But Sir, &s;ays <HI>Dormont,</HI> after he had &s;ung, &s;ince you are pleas'd with the&s;e words, why may not I ask you the rea&s;on your Lady is &s;o &s;olitary, for methinks <HI>Ro&s;e</HI> told me &s;he is fair enough to be &s;een? Don't you know, an&s;wered my Husband, that the fine&s;t Creatures are lea&s;t famili|ar; and the more &s;eldom they are &s;een, the more they are re&s;pected? I think, Sir, replyed <HI>Dormont,</HI> that is acu&s;tom very prudently e&s;tabli&s;h|ed
<PB N="78" REF="112">by the Kings of <HI>Ormus,</HI> in re|gard of their Subjects who &s;ee them but once a Year; but I never knew it practi&s;ed betwixt a Husband and a Wife in any other place but <HI>E&s;ta|jac.</HI> I find, an&s;wered the Count, that you would not be angry to &s;ee her, and I con&s;ent upon condition you abu&s;e not the ea&s;ine&s;s with which I grant it, and &s;ide not with her in the complaints &s;he may make to you of me. <HI>Dormont</HI> fearing lea&s;t, if he &s;hould have the time to reflect upon the liberty he gave him, he &s;hould change his opinion, de&s;ired him not to put off till another Day the fa|vour he made him hope for. My Husband call'd <HI>Ro&s;e,</HI> and ordered her to carry <HI>Dormont</HI> into my apart|ment. I was pleas'd at it, but I ne|ver ta&s;ted any perfect joy; for this was not &s;o, &s;ince I dur&s;t not flatter my &s;elf with its long continu|ance.</P>
<PB N="79" REF="112">
<P><HI>Dormont</HI> told me by what means he had obtained the permi&s;&s;ion to &s;ee me, and turn'd the Conver&s;ation &s;o adroitly, that he made him&s;elf an opportunity to &s;peak low to me. You may very well think he made u&s;e of that priviledge to expre&s;s to me tho&s;e pa&s;&s;ionate things Love had in&s;pired him with. I gave him the liberty to tell my Husband what he thought fit of our Di&s;cour&s;e, and I would not &s;uffer him to remain long with me.</P>
<P>The Count <HI>de Marignan</HI> no &s;oon|er &s;aw him come out of my Cham|ber, but he ask'd him his opinion of my Per&s;on and Humour. She is cer|tainly extremely hand&s;ome, replyed <HI>Dormont;</HI> but without penetrating into the occa&s;ion of her Sorrow, I believe her naturally Melancholy. But, an&s;wered my Husband, what did &s;he &s;ay to you? She de&s;crib'd to me, &s;aid <HI>Dormont,</HI> the Beauty of this &s;olitude, and told me the de&s;ire
<PB N="80" REF="113">&s;he had I &s;hould make her a Land|skip, wherein were painted only Rocks and Torrents, wild Bea&s;ts, leavele&s;s Trees, and dark Caverns. She mentioned every thing that could proceed from a melancholy Fancy, except a Tomb which I &s;up|po&s;e &s;he did not think of, and fill'd me with &s;o many &s;ad Ideas, that I am afraid I &s;hall not bani&s;h &s;o &s;oon as I wi&s;h.</P>
<P>My Husband told him in a &s;mile, that all my Melancholy did not pro|ceed from my Con&s;titution, and perhaps had told the whole &s;eries of my Affairs to <HI>Dormont,</HI> if a Servant had not advertis'd him, that a Neighbour of his call'd the <HI>Cheva|lier de Mon&s;erolle</HI> was come to vi&s;it him. This was the only Friend he had in this Country. They had a private Di&s;cour&s;e together for half an hour, after which the <HI>Chevalier</HI> took his leave, leaving the Count thoughtful.</P>
<PB N="81" REF="113">
<P>When he was gone, my Hus|band &s;ent for <HI>Dormont,</HI> who in re|&s;pect was retir'd. If Madam <HI>de Ma|rignan</HI> has in&s;pir'd you with Melan|choly, &s;aid he, we &s;hall &s;ee this Night a fine Creature will perhaps re&s;tore your good humour. 'Tis Madam <HI>d' Ecugy,</HI> who is run away with the <HI>Chevalier de Mon&s;erolle;</HI> and becau&s;e it is decent my Wife &s;hould entertain her, I &s;hall be forc'd to make her for&s;ake her &s;oli|tude; but I would have her owe the obligation to you. Ah, Sir, reply|ed <HI>Dormont,</HI> do not take from her, if you plea&s;e, the &s;atisfaction of ow|ing it to your &s;elf; and take heed you do not &s;poil me by a pre&s;umpti|on is unlawful for me to think of, I will have it &s;o, an&s;wered my Hus|band, and I pray, bid her pre&s;ently come down, and make the &s;ame Figure &s;he &s;hould have done always, had her Conduct been better.</P>
<PB N="82" REF="114">
<P>I &s;aw <HI>Dormont</HI> enter with a joy|ful Countenance, he told me all the conver&s;ation had pa&s;s'd for two Hours &s;ince he left me. Every Bo|dy but I would have received this News with joy; nothing could rai&s;e me to that Pa&s;&s;ion, fear pre|vailing over the tender &s;entiments I had for <HI>Ble&s;inac;</HI> not but I had many in&s;tances of being in an agree|able condition. I lov'd and was be|lov'd, and the plea&s;antne&s;s of the &s;ecret heightned the charms of our Commerce; and if I had had an in|clination to Plea&s;ure, I ought to have been contented with &s;o unex|pected a change; but I had not yet pa&s;s'd all the misfortunes fate a&s;&s;ign'd me; and when I felt &s;ome motions to Joy, a certain fore-knowledge I could not overcome, &s;oon threw me into my wonted Sadne&s;s.</P>
<P>As &s;oon as I was at liberty I went to the Count <HI>de Marignan</HI>'s Clo&s;et, to know what Orders he would pre|&s;cribe
<PB N="83" REF="114">me. I found him better dre&s;t than generally he is, and kinder to me than I imagin'd; he told me with moderation, he would have me make my &s;elf &s;ome amu&s;ements that might drive <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> out of my me|mory. He told me likewi&s;e, That he could not refu&s;e a &s;anctuary to the <HI>Chevalier de Mon&s;erolle,</HI> who had &s;tole away one of the Baron <HI>d' Ecu|gy</HI>'s Daughters, and de&s;ired me to give them an agreeable reception.</P>
<P>I had not time to an&s;wer him; &s;e|veral Cavaliers came at that in&s;tant into the Ca&s;tle Court, with a young &s;prightly Lady. I went to receive them at the Door, where I pay'd her all the civilities imaginable, and expected &s;ome return, but &s;he &s;carce|ly took any notice of me. My Husbands civilities were better re|ceiv'd, and I was very bu&s;ie com|plementing them who had conduct|ed Madam <HI>d Ecugy,</HI> and ob&s;erving the carriage of the Lover, his Mi|&s;tre&s;s,
<PB N="84" REF="115">my Husband, and one nam'd <HI>Arbanantes.</HI></P>
<P>As my thoughts were never di&s;&s;i|pated by joy, &s;o I thought my &s;elf more proper to penetrate into their Character, who were not of a be|coming deportment. My Ob&s;erva|tions were, that the Chevalier <HI>de Mon&s;erolle</HI> had a true affection for his Mi&s;tre&s;s; that &s;he had not the &s;ame Sentiments for him, but had con&s;ented to be &s;toln out of a fool|i&s;h Vanity, which gave her Plea&s;ure to make her &s;elf be talk'd of in the World. As the&s;e &s;ort of &s;lips are never committed without relap&s;ing extremely from what d<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="4 letters">cy re|quires, &s;he &s;eemed to me to have utterly forgot the pre&s;crip<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters">n of it. I found &s;o much libertinage in all her di&s;po&s;ition, that I have wonde|red a hundred times the <HI>Chevalier</HI> would run the hazard to Marry a Per&s;on guilty of &s;o many <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">rregular actions. I always though<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> for my
<PB N="85" REF="115">part, that it was not an ill rule to make a judgment of a Womans Vir|tue by the outward appearance. E|very action of this Lady was contra|ry to this Maxim. She was pleas'd to imagine that any one had a Pa&s;&s;i|on for her, but more to hear it from any that really had, or pretended to have. Being of this Character, you need not wonder if &s;he took for an honour the Cares my Husband &s;hew'd for her, and forgot that &s;he came away with <HI>Mon&s;erolle.</HI></P>
<P>She remember'd it &s;o little, that &s;he often pa&s;s'd whole Days, not &s;uffering him to &s;peak to her. My Husbands Actions were not more con&s;trained than hers, he knew, that what I fear'd from him, would not &s;uffer me to engage again&s;t his In|clinations; and in the great Plea&s;ure he took to pur&s;ue them, the rules of Ho&s;pitality did not &s;o far intrude, as to make him &s;crupulous of em|ploying his be&s;t endeavours to make
<PB N="86" REF="116">him&s;elf be beloved by the Mi&s;tre&s;s of his Friend.</P>
<P>It was to be con&s;idered, in the mean time, what <HI>Mon&s;erolle</HI> &s;hould determine. Madam <HI>d' Ecugy</HI> was in no great ha&s;te of the &s;olemnizing the Marriage. My Husband was in fear it &s;hould be concluded. <HI>Dormont</HI> was not angry he was bu&s;ied in a Pa&s;&s;ion would impede his penetra|ting into our Commerce, and <HI>Arba|nantes</HI> apprehended le&s;t he &s;hould be obliged to go from <HI>E&s;tajac.</HI> All having the &s;ame Intere&s;ts, it was not difficult to agree. The Count <HI>de Morignan</HI> would have <HI>Dormont</HI> of the Council, where they determin'd, That <HI>Mon&s;erolle</HI> &s;hould go for <HI>Paris</HI> to obtain the protection of the Ma|re&s;chal <HI>de Gramont,</HI> by whom he was very well known.</P>
<P>The ab&s;ence of <HI>Mon&s;erolle</HI> made no alterations at <HI>E&s;tajac,</HI> but new Plea&s;ures were invented every Day; and though the Count <HI>de Marignan</HI>
<PB N="87" REF="116">de&s;erv'd &s;ome acknowledgment for the Pa&s;&s;ion he &s;hew'd to Madam <HI>d'E|cugy,</HI> he had the di&s;plea&s;ure to per|ceive her di&s;like to him increa&s;t every Day, and that &s;he &s;uffer'd him now not without &s;ome Puni&s;hment.</P>
<P>And here, Madam, is the part of my relation that brings back into my memory &s;ad remembrances, you will &s;ee my misfortunes in their greate&s;t extremity. Madam <HI>d' Ecugy</HI> fell in Love with <HI>Dormont,</HI> and had the im|prudence to di&s;cover her Pa&s;&s;ion. My Husband perceiv'd it the fir&s;t; but as he &s;o carefully ob&s;erv'd <HI>Dor|mont</HI> as to be a&s;&s;ur'd he would make no return to it, he continued his good e&s;teem for him, and recom|mended the intere&s;t of his Heart to him after a manner that di&s;covered the great confidence he had in him; but <HI>Dormont</HI> had not perceived nei|ther the intentions of the Lady, nor the doubts of the Lover.</P>
<PB N="88" REF="117">
<P>One Evening, when &s;he would have us divert our &s;elves at Blind-mans-buff, &s;he would by all means that <HI>Dormont</HI> &s;hould be blinded. As he was &s;eeking about, he felt a Note put into his hand; and com|plai&s;ance having oblig'd me to be one at the &s;port, <HI>Dormont</HI> thought it might come from me; and &s;ome|times he fan&s;y'd from <HI>Ro&s;e,</HI> who had always lov'd him; not dreaming that Madam <HI>d' Ecugy</HI> was of &s;o my|&s;terious a conduct, as to find that way to explain her &s;elf. He was in great impatience to &s;ee it; and he had no &s;ooner taken another per|&s;on, who was to be blinded, but he went out of the Chamber to read the Note, which was expre&s;s'd in the&s;e words:</P>
<P><HI>If you were a man of Quality, I &s;hould think you had affronted me, by making no return to the honour I have done you, to prefer you before
<PB N="89" REF="117">the Ma&s;ter of the Hou&s;e, and a man in whom I heretofore found &s;o much de&s;ert as to be willing to marry. But I find I mu&s;t break the Ice: Know then, I forget all the rea&s;ons I have to keep a di&s;tance from you, and that I intend to follow only the inclination of my heart, which &s;peaks in your fa|vour. Make your be&s;t profit of a Confe&s;&s;ion may be of too much advan|tage for you to neglect; but remember, it is on condition, that you always &s;hew me the re&s;pects you owe me.</HI></P>
<P>This Letter made <HI>Dormont</HI> truly melancholy. He was unwilling to be &s;o often my Husband's Rival; or to give me occa&s;ion to doubt his in&s;idelity, and was be&s;ides afraid of the imprudence of Madam <HI>d' Ecugy.</HI> Here were many circum&s;tances to rai&s;e trouble in his mind; and he was obliged to take a particular care, that &s;he might not penetrate into the intelligence betwixt us: and he
<PB N="90" REF="118">concluded he ought to dread no|thing &s;o much as the giving me any rea&s;on of inquietude. He there|fore &s;acrific'd his di&s;cretion to his faithfulne&s;s, and found an opportu|nity to tell me what had happen'd. I in a minute di&s;covered the &s;ad con|&s;equences of it, and with a painful Chagrin &s;aw, the heavy misfortunes that Amour would bring upon me.</P>
<P>Madam <HI>d' Ecugy</HI> pa&s;s'd the re&s;idue of the Day in &s;uch re&s;tle&s;s moti|ons as could proceed from a violent pa&s;&s;ion only. I know not why Chance would have it, that we two &s;hould meet together; for we both of us were very careful to prevent it. I &s;aw her then di&s;turb'd by an inquietude, that gave her not a re&s;t|ful moment; I thought my &s;elf ob|liged to take notice of it, and inquire the occa&s;ion. I am, &s;ays &s;he brikly, in a condition that does not permit me to be at quiet. I did not perceive till this day, an&s;wer'd I, that you
<PB N="91" REF="118">was &s;o di&s;turbed at your Affairs; and I know not of any change has happen'd to give you fre&s;h occa&s;ion. Perhaps, continu'd I, that <HI>Mon&s;e|rolle</HI> is longer ab&s;ent than you ima|gin'd. Not in the lea&s;t, reply'd &s;he, his ab&s;ence gives me neither joy, nor &s;orrow. As for that, Madam, reply'd I, give me leave to doubt whether you &s;peak &s;incerely: there is little appearance you would have run away with <HI>Mon&s;erolle,</HI> had not Love engag'd you to that bold re|&s;olution. You have taken &s;ome, &s;aid &s;he, without &s;uch good preten|ces: but I find very well what you would di&s;cover, and what lyes &s;o heavy upon your heart: You be|lieve your Husband does not hate me; and if I thought it brought you any trouble, I would &s;tudy to augment it. But 'tis your Husband, Madam, and not <HI>Ble&s;inac.</HI> Mi&s;take not, Madam, if you plea&s;e, reply'd I, I mu&s;t have more e&s;teem for you
<PB N="92" REF="119">than I have, to apprehend there &s;hould be &s;o much merit found in you, to give me the lea&s;t rea&s;on of melancholy.</P>
<P>At this in&s;tant my Husband en|ter'd; She gave him her hand, and went to &s;ee an Apartment that was painting. This was the pretence at lea&s;t; for &s;he went to look for <HI>Dor|mont.</HI> As &s;oon as &s;he was come in, &s;he feign'd an intention of learning to draw; and de&s;ir'd him to give her &s;ome in&s;tructions. My Hu&s;|band, who was not very well pleas'd at this, told her, <HI>Dormont</HI> knew not enough to be her Ma&s;ter. She grew &s;o violent again&s;t the Count, that he was oblig'd to let her a|lone.</P>
<P>I told you before, I &s;uppo&s;e, that <HI>Mon&s;erolle</HI> had left at <HI>E&s;tajac Arba|nantes,</HI> who was a little related to Madam <HI>d' Ecugy,</HI> to ob&s;erve her carriage.</P>
<P>He had particular intere&s;ts, be|&s;ides
<PB N="93" REF="119">that of being a Relation, which engag'd him to take notice of <HI>Dormont</HI>'s Actions. He found he had more knowledge of the World than is common to that profe&s;&s;on. In effect <HI>Dormont</HI> had &s;omething &s;o great and ea&s;ie, which he could not get rid of, and was not &s;o well cover'd by his di&s;gui&s;e, but <HI>Arba|nantes</HI> &s;u&s;pected him to be another than he appeared; and after he was well confirm'd in the&s;e thoughts, he re&s;olv'd to put every thing in Execution to clear this doubt.</P>
<P>He perceived by many opportuni|ties that <HI>Dormont</HI> was not hated by <HI>Ro&s;e,</HI> and that he had for her but a &s;tudy'd complai&s;ance at mo&s;t, which did not proceed from the Heart. He therefore grew by degrees very intimate with this Maid, and making u&s;e of the weakne&s;s (the&s;e kind of Per&s;ons generally have when you promi&s;e to tell them their Fortune) he propos'd to &s;et a Figure for her.
<PB N="94" REF="120">He knew a little the Terms of Art; he talk'd boldly of the Hou&s;e of <HI>Ju|piter,</HI> the Angle of Fortune, of Trines, Sextiles, A&s;pects, and 'twas more than enough to draw <HI>Ro&s;e</HI> in|to the toils.</P>
<P>He then told her, &s;he lov'd a Man whom he de&s;crib'd as like as he could to <HI>Dormont,</HI> and a&s;&s;ur'd her &s;he would have been belov'd by him, had not an a&s;cendent greater than hers compell'd him to be anothers. He afterwards ask'd her if &s;he had known <HI>Dormont</HI> long, and how he came to <HI>E&s;tajac.</HI> He ask'd, in fine, &s;o many que&s;tions, which &s;he &s;o innocently an&s;wer'd, that compa|ring what he learnt from <HI>Ro&s;e,</HI> with what he already knew concerning me and <HI>Ble&s;inac,</HI> he made no que|&s;tion but <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> and <HI>Dormont</HI> were the &s;ame; it was not enough to be a&s;&s;ur'd of this, if at the &s;ame time he did not draw the benefit from it he propos'd. It is time to confe&s;s
<PB N="95" REF="120">it to you, Madam, <HI>Arbanantes</HI> had a Pa&s;&s;ion for me, and if I had not been bu&s;ied in a tenderne&s;s for ano|ther, I &s;hould have di&s;covered his Sentiments, notwith&s;tanding the pro|found re&s;pect they were cover'd with. There are few people more poli|tick than tho&s;e of this Country: wherefore do not imagine, that <HI>Ar|banantes</HI> di&s;cover'd to me the bot|tom of his heart. On the contrary, he often rally'd plea&s;antly upon what vanity <HI>Dormont</HI> might draw from the good thoughts Madam <HI>d' Ecugy</HI> had for him; but he medi|tated a hidden path, by which he &s;hould arrive infallibly at the end de&s;ired. His de&s;ign was to have <HI>Dormont</HI> &s;ent away; and in pro|&s;pect of this, he had in&s;inuated into Madam <HI>d' Ecugy,</HI> that it would be an agreeable diver&s;ion for her to learn to draw, and not to employ any of tho&s;e hours &s;he had a&s;&s;ign'd to other plea&s;ures, the Morning and
<PB N="96" REF="121">the Evening might be a proper Sea|&s;on to receive in&s;tructions. She ap|prov'd of following this advice, which flatter'd her pa&s;&s;ion; and &s;he had us'd all the power &s;he had o|ver my Husband, to oblige him to command <HI>Dormont</HI> to be diligent in teaching what &s;he &s;eem'd to have a de&s;ire to learn.</P>
<P><HI>Arbanantes</HI> remain'd &s;ometimes in Madam <HI>d' Ecugy's</HI> Chamber, whil&s;t &s;he learnt. And &s;ometimes he went out to give <HI>Dormont</HI> the opportuni|ty to explain his Sentiments, in ca&s;e he found his heart toucht by the kindne&s;s &s;he had for him. One day, when <HI>Arbanantes</HI> was with drawn into the Anti-Chamber, Madam <HI>d'Ecugy</HI> left her <HI>Crayon;</HI> and looking upon <HI>Dormont</HI> with eyes full of anger and love; You are either very vain, or very &s;tupid, not to an&s;wer the Note I gave you &s;ome days pa&s;t. I knew not, Madam, &s;ays <HI>Dormont,</HI> that it was you who did me that honour;
<PB N="97" REF="121">and if I had, I dur&s;t not have &s;hewn &s;o much temerity. I had taken &s;uf|ficient care, replyed &s;he, to clear your &s;cruples of an unbecoming boldne&s;s; but now you know the Note was mine, &s;ince I declare it to you: and what An&s;wer do you make me?</P>
<P><HI>Dormont</HI> found him&s;elf in a great trouble: 'twould have been a &s;hame to be in&s;en&s;ible. Madam <HI>d' Ecugy</HI> was a very fine per&s;on, and 'twould have been too great a danger to have confe&s;t, that a former engagement did not permit him to make any re|turns to her pa&s;&s;ion. He therefore pretended not to give any credit to what &s;he &s;aid, nor perceive the trou|ble appear'd in her face. I &s;hould be beyond de&s;pair, Madam, &s;aid he, if I had pre&s;umption enough to be blinded by your raillery. I take it as I ought; and &s;ay what you plea&s;e, I know how I mu&s;t believe it. Re|main then, Madam, if you plea&s;e
<PB N="98" REF="122">in the Character you have, &s;ince I cannot leave mine without growing mad, or declaring my &s;elf culpable. <HI>Dormont</HI> pronounc'd the&s;e words with &s;o vi&s;ible an indifference, that from this in&s;tant Madam <HI>d' Ecugy</HI> re&s;olv'd to ruine him; but he had no &s;u&s;picion of it, and at la&s;t &s;he told him, that &s;he had only a de&s;ire to divert her &s;elf at his co&s;t.</P>
<P>When &s;he had taken her Le&s;&s;on, <HI>Dormont</HI> went; and Madam <HI>d' E|cugy</HI> &s;ent to call <HI>Arbanantes.</HI> When he came in, &s;he made all the gri|maces of a young Woman a&s;ham'd to expre&s;s her &s;elf in affairs of Gal|lantry; and looking upon him with eyes full of concern, The confidence, &s;ays &s;he, that my Husband and I have in you, will not let me hide any longer an outrage I have ju&s;t receiv'd from this Painter, whom you would have teach me to de&s;ign. Becau&s;e I &s;hew'd him &s;ome Civili|ties, he has been &s;o audacious to tell
<PB N="99" REF="122">me that he loves me. If the Count <HI>de Marignan</HI> does not &s;acrifice him to my anger, I won't &s;tay a minute in his hou&s;e.</P>
<P><HI>Arbanantes</HI> was ravi&s;h'd with joy for &s;uch an opportunity to get rid of a man he e&s;teem'd his Rival. He concern'd him&s;elf in Madam <HI>d' Ecugy</HI>'s melancholy; he prais'd her for &s;upporting &s;o re&s;olutely the intere&s;t of her honour: but yet, added he, we mu&s;t manage our &s;elves with prudence in this occa&s;i|on. It will be very difficult, I fore|&s;ee, to per&s;wade the Count <HI>de Ma|rignan,</HI> that this man, in whom he has had &s;o intire a confidence, &s;hould forget him&s;elf &s;o much, as to dare to rival him in an inclination, which he knows he had to love you. 'Tis by this, &s;ays Madam <HI>d' Ecugy,</HI> that I pretend to engage the Count <HI>de Marignan</HI> to revenge me on <HI>Dor|mont.</HI> He has an equal concern with me in the injury is done me.</P>
<PB N="100" REF="123">
<P><HI>Arbanantes</HI> di&s;covered very well by the conduct of his Kin&s;woman, that &s;he was not of &s;o &s;crupulous a Vertue to be very angry at a decla|ration of Love. He al&s;o perceiv'd, &s;he had made a thou&s;and &s;lips, which were but too convincing &s;he had no aver&s;ion for <HI>Dormont;</HI> &s;o that comparing this with the thoughts he had that <HI>Dormont</HI> was <HI>Ble&s;inac,</HI> and that I had authoriz'd his di&s;|gui&s;e, which could not be without my Knowledge; he thought him&s;elf oblig'd to engage Madam <HI>d' Ecugy</HI> to make an intire Confe&s;&s;ion of her Sentiments. He having wit, and &s;he being imprudent, wheadled her with &s;uch Art, that &s;he &s;oon con|fe&s;s'd the truth. He blam'd her weakne&s;s, and repeated all the faults that incon&s;ideration made her com|mit: But in &s;ine, after he had pro|vok'd her tears and blu&s;hes more than once, he pretended, that though it rais'd her anger, he did
<PB N="101" REF="123">it only to make her avoid the oppor|tunity of ruining her &s;elf. You mu&s;t, &s;aid he, get out of <HI>Dormont</HI>'s hands the Note you writ to him. It can do me no injury, an&s;wer'd &s;he, &s;ince I have &s;o di&s;guis'd my writing, that no Body can know it. Well then, &s;aid <HI>Arbanantes,</HI> we have only to con|trive &s;ome Stratagem, which he may not di&s;cover. He compo&s;es perfect|ly: I will make the words of a Song, and deliver 'em to him, it will not be difficult to per&s;wade him to write 'em out to make an Air to 'em.</P>
<P>Madam <HI>d' Ecugy</HI> would not refu&s;e an occa&s;ion to puni&s;h <HI>Dormont</HI> for the de&s;picable thoughts he &s;hew'd for her. The re&s;entment &s;he had, made her look with plea&s;ure upon what was prepar'd for her revenge. <HI>Arbanantes</HI> de&s;ired her only to give him leave to manage the affair, and to act nothing but by his advice. She agreed to it, bid him not forget the Ver&s;es he was to make, and re|mained
<PB N="102" REF="124">in an indifferent tranquil condition. Whil&s;t <HI>Arbanantes</HI> and &s;he were taking the&s;e dangerous mea|&s;ures to ruine <HI>Dormont,</HI> my Husband had &s;ent for him to give an account of the Le&s;&s;on he taught Madam <HI>d' Ecugy.</HI> He did not think &s;he had been alone with him; and he only de&s;ired to know if he found her very apt to learn; and as &s;he had no di&s;po&s;ition to it, <HI>Dormont</HI> de&s;i|red the <HI>Count</HI> to di&s;&s;wade her from that de&s;ign, and to propo&s;e her &s;ome a<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="3 letters">&s;ements might take away her de|&s;ire to imploy her time in a thing of &s;o little u&s;e.</P>
<P>The Count was in a condition ve|ry much to be pityed; he was troubled at the manner of Madam <HI>d' Ecugy</HI>'s u&s;age; he could neither de&s;pi&s;e her, nor value her, though he lov'd her much; her Per&s;on, tis true, was very amiable, but her Wit and her Heart were &s;o defe|ctive, that my Husband could not
<PB N="103" REF="124">re&s;olve whether &s;he was mo&s;t worthy of his hatred or his Love. This De|bate, which was the cau&s;e of &s;ome unhappy minutes, produc'd the&s;e Ver&s;es, which I &s;till remember.</P>
<Q><L>Come to my re&s;cue, ju&s;t di&s;dain,</L>
<L>My Honour waits you, and my Rea|&s;on calls,</L>
<L>'Tis by your help that the unfaithful falls.</L>
<L>You end my mis'ries and her tedious Reign.</L>
<L>But &s;hould I on your force rely</L>
<L>Then my revenge would &s;carcely be &s;c|cure,</L>
<L>What now y' advi&s;e you &s;oon do fly,</L>
<L>Doubtful would be from her or you my Cure.</L></Q>
<P><HI>Dormont</HI> having &s;een the Ver&s;es, made a Tune very &s;uitable to 'em, and my Husband, who &s;ung very well, learnt it that Night, though it was late; <HI>Dormont,</HI> who would not
<PB N="104" REF="125">lo&s;e any opportunity to &s;ee me, came into my Chamber, with a Pretence to &s;hew me the Song he had made; and gave me in few words an account of what had pa&s;s'd this Evening.</P>
<P>The relation of the Counte&s;s <HI>de Marignan,</HI> was broke off in this Place, by the Sighs and Tears, which &s;he could not refrain. Ah, Madam, &s;aid &s;he, falling again into her Rela|tion, how ingenious was my Ima|gination, in repre&s;enting to me the Misfortunes that were ju&s;t upon the point of arriving, and tormenting me when I was a&s;leep, by the mo&s;t mournful Dreams that ever were. the Night was &s;o terrible, that not being able any longer to endure the cruel Thoughts that di&s;turb'd my Soul, I was forc'd to awaken the Women who waited upon me, and call 'em to my a&s;&s;i&s;tance.</P>
<P><HI>Ro&s;e,</HI> who lay in my Chamber, remark'd that &s;ince <HI>Dormont</HI> was here, I had vented many doleful
<PB N="105" REF="125">Sighs, and that little Sleep, which I took, was not without di&s;turbance. She had rea&s;on'd according to her &s;en&s;e of it, and was extremely de&s;i|rous of an opportunity to go forth to tell <HI>Arbanantes</HI> her thoughts. I knew by the Sequel, &s;he did not fail in this intent; but whil&s;t I had this lively foreknowledge of my di&s;graces, <HI>Arbanantes</HI> was labouring to execute the mo&s;t black and trea|cherous action ever was in the capa|city of man.</P>
<P>He lookt for <HI>Dormont,</HI> and found him early enough to be at lei&s;ure to make a Tune to the words he had made for Madam <HI>d' Ecugy,</HI> to whom he pretended he would carry 'em &s;o &s;oon as &s;he &s;hould be awake, <HI>Dormont</HI> fore&s;eeing not the Con&s;e|quence, thought &s;ome little time, and writ down the words with the Tune he had made to 'em. <HI>Arba|nantes,</HI> who de&s;ign'd to have 'em of his writing, told him he would &s;ing
<PB N="106" REF="126">'em by the Notes; and in this pre|tence kept the Song. He thank'd <HI>Dormont,</HI> and left him very content|ed to have &s;o well &s;ucceeded. Joy, which is no quiet pa&s;&s;ion, would not &s;uffer Madam <HI>d' Ecugy</HI> to &s;leep. He went into her Chamber, and gave her the Song, writ fair, and prickt by <HI>Dormont</HI>'s own hand. She read it with great earne&s;tne&s;s, and found the&s;e words:
<Q><L>O're all the World let's <HI>It is</HI> boa&s;t</L>
<L>Your pa&s;&s;ion, and my flame,</L>
<L>And let no glittering rays be lo&s;t,</L>
<L>To &s;hew it in our eyes, and &s;ouls the &s;ame;</L>
<L>And when our minds the&s;e tran&s;ports move,</L>
<L>Then let us &s;ing by turns,</L>
<L>Ah, <HI>Iris,</HI> how I burst with love!</L>
<L>Ah, <HI>Thir&s;is,</HI> how I burn!</L></Q></P>
<P><HI>Arbanantes</HI> gave her many in&s;tru|ctions about the management of the
<PB N="107" REF="126">de&s;ign of her revenge, and left her at liberty to dre&s;s her &s;elf, with impa|tience to &s;ee the Count <HI>de Marignan</HI> to make complaints to him concern|ing <HI>Dormont.</HI> My Husband had not a le&s;s de&s;ire to entertain her with the Song he made, &s;o agreeable to the condition he found him&s;elf in. As &s;oon as &s;he was at liberty to be &s;een, he went &s;inging into her Chamber. Certainly, &s;ays Madam <HI>d' Ecugy,</HI> this is a new Air; but though you have had the advantage to learn it before me, I have the good luck to know one is yet newer than yours, &s;ince it was made but this Morning. You may know the Author by the Writing; but you will be &s;urpriz'd to hear that they had the boldne&s;s to declare it was made for me. The affront, I believe, is great enough to require you to re|venge me.</P>
<P>The Count <HI>de Marignan</HI> receiving the Song from Madam <HI>d' Ecugy,</HI> read
<PB N="108" REF="127">it with tran&s;ports of anger, that could be in&s;pired by no le&s;s than an extreme jealou&s;ie. He read it over twenty times, without having the power to pronounce the words. Yes, Madam, cry'd he, after he had thought &s;ome minutes, I will revenge you, and not forget to puni&s;h this ra&s;h man; and 'tis a greater crime to me than you. Then the malici|ous Creature looking upon the Count with kinder eyes than before, I &s;ee, &s;ays &s;he, that you love me; and I will acknowledge to you the intere&s;t you &s;hew for my honour; but remember, if you plea&s;e, in the &s;tate things are, a publick revenge would do me an injury not to be repair'd.</P>
<P><HI>Arbanantes,</HI> fearing the impru|dence of his Kin&s;woman might make her &s;ay more or le&s;s them was requi&s;ite, came into the Chamoor, and joining in their conver&s;ation a little appeas'd my Husband's anger;
<PB N="109" REF="127">but though he hindred him from committing a violence, who&s;e con|&s;equences might be redoubted, he neverthele&s;s infinuated into his mind, that the Painters &s;hould immediately be &s;ent away.</P>
<P>As it would not have been diffi|cult for <HI>Dormont</HI> to have ju&s;tify'd him&s;elf to my Husband, had he but the opportunity; <HI>Arbanantes</HI> was of Opinion, that they &s;hould go, and not be &s;een. His advice was taken. Pardon me, Madam, if I do not en|ter into the Particulars of &s;o cruel a &s;eparation. <HI>Dormont</HI> receiv'd or|ders for it, with all the &s;urprize and melancholy that it is po&s;&s;ible to con|ceive. He came into my Chamber, to take his leave; but <HI>Arbanantes,</HI> who came in with him, gave us not the liberty to expre&s;s our Sentiments. Grief, which is le&s;&s;en'd by com|plaint, when it is covered, becomes in&s;upportable. I had been in this condition, had I not call'd all my
<PB N="110" REF="128">rea&s;on to a&s;&s;i&s;t me to overcome my di&s;plea&s;ure. And 'tis true, my na|tural melancholy hindred 'em from perceiving that which was caus'd for <HI>Dormont</HI>'s departure.</P>
<P>The two Painters left us; and we knew not which way they went. Madam <HI>d' Ecugy</HI> repented &s;he was the occa&s;ion of their bani&s;hment from <HI>E&s;tajac.</HI> She had a great Quar|rel about it with <HI>Arbanantes;</HI> and &s;poke not to my Husband of two days, but only to tell him &s;he would leave his hou&s;e. He was very much troubled at her conduct, becau&s;e he began to unriddle it, and to be more &s;atisfy'd of <HI>Dormont;</HI> but he had not time to reflect long.</P>
<P>The Baron <HI>d' Ecugy</HI> hearing that <HI>Mon&s;erolle</HI> was returned from <HI>Paris,</HI> went with &s;ome of his Friends to be&s;iege him, whil&s;t his Son with an|other Party came to &s;urprize the Ca&s;tle of <HI>E&s;tajac.</HI> This News al|ter'd not the re&s;olutions of my Hu&s;|band;
<PB N="111" REF="128">he prepared to a&s;&s;i&s;t the in|tere&s;t of his Friend, and to pre&s;erve his Mi&s;tre&s;s, he gathered together as many as the little time would per|mit him, and left <HI>Arbanantes</HI> at <HI>E|&s;tajac</HI> to command in his ab&s;ence.</P>
<P>I was &s;en&s;ibly concern'd to &s;ee my Husband go in an expedition, who&s;e event was &s;o doubtful; but in the mid&s;t of this grief, it was &s;ome con|&s;olation to think that <HI>Dormont</HI>'s ab|&s;ence would free him from this dan|ger, and I mingled at this In&s;tant the &s;entiments of a lawful Duty with tho&s;e in&s;pired by an Inclinati|on, &s;ince at the &s;ame time, that I prayed for my Husbands return, I rendered thanks to Heaven for guarding <HI>Dormont</HI> from this peril.</P>
<P>Madam <HI>d' Ecugy</HI> received no di|&s;turbance at it, and expected the e|vent with as much tranquillity as if &s;he had no concern in it. Two Days were &s;pent &s;ince my Husbands de|parture, and I was very impatient
<PB N="112" REF="129">to know the &s;ucce&s;s of the Journey, when I was told he was returned. I ran ha&s;lily to receive him; but Madam, I cannot call back into my remembrance that frightful minute, without renewing my pa&s;t affliction. 'Twas then I &s;aw the Count <HI>de Ma|rignan</HI> by one of his Servants &s;upport|ed on his Hor&s;e, his Cloaths begor'd with Blood, his Vi&s;age pale, and Eyes half clos'd, and &s;carcely &s;trength enough left to complain. My grief can hardly be imagined. I employed all my cares for him, to acquit my &s;elf of what my Duty engaged me. When he was fir&s;t wounded Chi|rurgeons were &s;ent for, who came there as &s;oon as he. They dre&s;t his Wounds, which were found dange|rous. He had lo&s;t much Blood, and the weak condition he was in, hin|dered him from &s;peaking; but it was ea&s;ie to perceive, he had a de|&s;ire to &s;ay &s;omething. I imagin'd &s;o, and ask'd him his Plea&s;ure; he an|&s;wered
<PB N="113" REF="129">me in a dying Voice, That <HI>Dormont</HI> &s;hould be taken care off. I took him to be light-headed, not thinking it likely that <HI>Dormont,</HI> who was to return to <HI>Paris,</HI> &s;hould be in this engagement. After I had made a little reflection, I took notice that neither Madam <HI>d' Ecugy,</HI> nor <HI>Ro&s;e</HI> were in my Husbands Chamber, and that it mu&s;t be &s;omething of greater concern retain'd them el&s;ewhere. I was bu&s;ied with the&s;e cruel doubts when I perceived <HI>Ro&s;e</HI> in Tears. She came to require &s;ome a&s;&s;i&s;tance for <HI>Dormont,</HI> who would &s;oon Dye, if they &s;taid much longer, before any Remedies were apply'd to his Wounds. I mu&s;t confe&s;s to you this rai&s;ed &s;o piercing a Grief in my Brea&s;t, that nothing could augment it. I ha&s;tened the Chirurgeons to go to the relief of the poor unhap|py <HI>Dormont,</HI> and I &s;taid by my Hus|band. Although he was advis'd to re&s;t, he appear'd di&s;turb'd, and
<PB N="114" REF="130">could not forbear asking me if Ma|dam <HI>d' Ecugy</HI> was yet at <HI>E&s;tajac.</HI> He believed nothing of the a&s;&s;uran|ces I gave him that &s;he was here. He de&s;ired to &s;ee her, but 'twas not without trouble that &s;he left <HI>Dor|mont</HI>'s Chamber to come to the Count <HI>de Marignan.</HI> A Heart le&s;s concern'd than his would have re|triev'd its liberty by the indiffe|rence Madam <HI>d' Ecugy</HI> di&s;covered to him. He had the &s;trength to com|plain of it, and the weakne&s;s not to make it in&s;trumental to his cure. She gave me not the opportunity to tell my Husband be ought not to &s;peak &s;o much, preventing me by &s;uddainly leaving him, and return|ing to <HI>Dormont.</HI></P>
<P>As the&s;e Accidents obliged me to keep &s;ome mea&s;ures, I inform'd my &s;elf how the engagement happened; and not doubting but <HI>Dormont</HI> had given proofs of his Courage, I did not affect to talk of him. I fan&s;yed he
<PB N="115" REF="130">had performed &s;ome Actions I &s;hould hear of; and a Gentleman, a Neigh|bour of ours named <HI>Pla&s;&s;ac,</HI> took the pains to in&s;truct me in it. He told me that the Baron <HI>d' Ecugy</HI> ha|ving laid &s;iege to <HI>Mon&s;eroll</HI>'s Hou&s;e, &s;ent his Son with fifty Hor&s;e to &s;ur|pri&s;e <HI>E&s;tajac;</HI> and that my Husband meeting him with a Party much in|feriour in number to his Enemies, began a Combat wherein you might well perceive, that &s;ome fought for Love, and others for Honour. But now added <HI>Pla&s;&s;ac,</HI> we began to yield to the number that attack'd us, and the Count <HI>de Marignan,</HI> who had forced his way into the mid&s;t of the Enemies, would either have been taken or kill'd, when <HI>Dormont</HI>'s ar|rival with five or &s;ix Men gave fre&s;h Hearts to our di&s;couraged Party. The <HI>Chevalier d' Ecugy</HI> made what re&s;i&s;tance he could, but to little pur|po&s;e, he was attack'd &s;o vigorou&s;ly by <HI>Dormont,</HI> who abandon'd his
<PB N="116" REF="131">Life to force him&s;elf a pa&s;&s;age to the place where he &s;aw the Count <HI>de Marignan</HI> encompa&s;s'd. And <HI>Dor|mont</HI> would &s;carcely have effected it, had he not kill'd the <HI>Chevalier d' Ecugy;</HI> but by misfortune the Count was wounded before <HI>Dormont</HI> could get to him, and 'twas he that hin|dered the Enemies from taking away his Life. <HI>Dormont</HI> received &s;everal Wounds by defending the Count, and I never &s;aw a Combat perform'd with more Courage and Judgment. The Death of the <HI>Chevalier d' Ecu|gy</HI> &s;oon allay'd the Courage of his Friends. They retired with the News to his Father, and we having kill'd thirty of the Enemies, and lo&s;t few of our own, became Ma&s;ters of the Place, where we did not think fit to &s;tay long; but I &s;ent for Chi|rurgeons, and returned hither with our Party.</P>
<P>After this recital, <HI>Pla&s;&s;ac</HI> made me under&s;tand this bu&s;ine&s;s would be of
<PB N="117" REF="131">ill con&s;equence, if we did not take &s;ome mea&s;ures to &s;top its cour&s;e, and that there were none more &s;ure than to advertize <HI>Mon&s;erolle</HI> either to make an accommodation with the Baron <HI>d' Ecugy,</HI> or not to take it ill, if his Mi&s;tris was delivered in|to her Relations hands. <HI>Pla&s;&s;ac</HI> un|dertook this Commi&s;&s;ion; but as he was ju&s;t ready to depart, <HI>Mon&s;erolle</HI> arriv'd. None could be more con|cern'd for the misfortunes of the Count <HI>de Marignan</HI> than he ap|pear'd. He &s;poke very hand&s;omly about it to me; but whatever he could &s;ay, my Husband and Lover were in danger of their lives, and I did not receive agreeably the excu&s;es he made me, who was the cau&s;e of it. <HI>Pla&s;&s;ac</HI> acquainted him with our re&s;olutions. A little Point of Ho|nour hindred him from con&s;enting; but he thought of an Expedient was approv'd by all who were of the Council: Which was to put Ma|dam
<PB N="118" REF="132"><HI>d' Ecugy</HI> in a Convent, till dif|ferences were accommodated. She had a relation at <HI>Carca&s;&s;one,</HI> who was Abbe&s;s of a Mona&s;tery, and 'twas re&s;olv'd &s;he &s;hould be carry'd thi|ther, when they were a&s;&s;ured there would be no difficulty to receive her; but as they knew &s;he was ne|ver much di&s;pos'd to a Nunnery, it was kept &s;ecret from her.</P>
<P>She &s;hew'd &s;o little e&s;teem for <HI>Mon&s;eroll,</HI> that he overcame the Scruples he had to abandon her. And <HI>Pla&s;&s;ac</HI> went to make &s;ure of Madam <HI>d' Ecugy</HI>'s Kin&s;woman.</P>
<P>One Evening, when I was by my Husband's Bed, grieving to &s;ee his Wounds had brought him to that ill condition, they came to tell me, <HI>Dormont</HI> was wor&s;e than u&s;ual. The Count <HI>de Marignan</HI> de&s;ir'd I wou'd go into his Chamber, to &s;ee what re|medies he had occa&s;ion for, and 'twas impo&s;&s;ible for me to refu&s;e. When I enter'd, I found <HI>Arbanan|tes</HI>
<PB N="119" REF="132">li&s;tning to what the extremi|ty of his Fever made him &s;ay. And as it is not one of the lea&s;t &s;igns of rea&s;on to be able to keep a Secret the heart and the mind is fill'd with, we need not wonder if <HI>Dormont</HI> could not retain the My&s;teries of our Commerce, during the ravings of his Fever. He ask'd where I was, complain'd that he did not &s;ee me; and would dye becau&s;e I left him. Hitherto his extravagances had not frightned me; but a fiercer Fit made him rai&s;e him&s;elf in the Bed; and putting his hands upon his eyes, violently cry'd out, Ah! unhappy <HI>Ble&s;inac,</HI> &s;ince the Counte&s;s <HI>de Ma|rignan</HI> makes no longer acknow|ledgments to your tenderne&s;s, go dye in &s;ome place where the Image of her may be le&s;s pre&s;ent.</P>
<P>After this, he left &s;peaking, and fell into a &s;leep. <HI>Arbanantes,</HI> who had not forgot one Syllable that <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> &s;aid, came to me, and
<PB N="120" REF="133">looking upon me with eyes full of chagrin and malice; pardon me, Madam, &s;aid he, if I tell you, it is not very much for the honour of your Family, to give a reception to <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> under the name of <HI>Dor|mont.</HI></P>
<P>I confe&s;s to you, Madam, conti|nu'd the Counte&s;s <HI>de Marignan,</HI> I found my &s;elf in a great &s;traight: I &s;aw well the con&s;equence of an|gring <HI>Arbanantes.</HI> And I was not ignorant it was not le&s;s dangerous to flatter him. I argued it was impo&s;|&s;ible for a raving man to u&s;e his rea|&s;on. He believ'd me not, and had the boldne&s;s to tell me, if I had not the &s;ame &s;entiments for him as for <HI>Ble&s;inac,</HI> he knew very well how to revenge him&s;elf of my indifference.</P>
<P>I left <HI>Arbanantes</HI> in <HI>Dormont</HI>'s Chamber, and returned to the Count's, to hinder any from co|ming, and di&s;covering <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI>'s con|fe&s;&s;ion, I found <HI>Mon&s;erolle</HI> there,
<PB N="121" REF="133">to whom I told it, becau&s;e it was known by &s;o many, that I thought he would not be long ignorant of it. And I &s;poke to him, with per|&s;wa&s;ion enough to obtain, that he would make Madam <HI>d' Ecugy,</HI> with <HI>Arbanantes</HI> and the re&s;t who con|ducted her, depart that Night from <HI>E&s;tajac.</HI></P>
<P>The Count <HI>de Marignan</HI>'s Apart|ment, was &s;ome di&s;tance from the other Lodgings, which made our de|&s;ign the ea&s;ier. I caus'd all the pa&s;|&s;ages to it to be &s;hut up, and I re|main'd in the Chamber, whil&s;t <HI>Mon|&s;erolle</HI> went to acquaint Madam <HI>d' E|cugy</HI> 'twas nece&s;&s;ary &s;he &s;hould leave <HI>Estajac;</HI> and that her Father would be&s;iege the Ca&s;tle to take it, and force her to a Nunnery, and &s;he &s;hould now go to <HI>Carca&s;&s;onne,</HI> where &s;he would better divert her &s;elf. Al|though what <HI>Mon&s;erolle</HI> &s;aid to her appear'd rea&s;onable, &s;he oppos'd it &s;o violently, that they were oblig'd
<PB N="122" REF="134">to tell her &s;he &s;hould be forc'd to do what was thought be&s;t for her affairs. She cry'd out terribly, and they were heard into my Husband's Apartment. He thought &s;he had been laughing, which made him &s;igh, and &s;ay with &s;adne&s;s, that her mirth was very un&s;ea&s;onable. I did not undeceive him; but added, without &s;hewing affectation, what I thought might contribute to cure him from a pa&s;&s;ion &s;o ill plac'd. Whil&s;t I was with him, <HI>Arbanantes</HI> and Madam <HI>d' Ecugy</HI> were forming a thou&s;and Ob&s;tacles to their depar|ture, e&s;pecially <HI>Arbanantes.</HI> He mu&s;t needs &s;peak to the Count <HI>de Marignan,</HI> he would take his leave of me; but none of the&s;e &s;ucceeded, and they both parted from <HI>E&s;tajac.</HI></P>
<P><HI>Mon&s;erolle</HI> &s;taid for his &s;afety, and out of affection to my Husband, of the recovery of who&s;e wounds, as well as <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI>'s, we began to have &s;ome hopes.</P>
<PB N="123" REF="134">
<P>I had a great curio&s;ity to know by what accident this la&s;t was in the engagement from whence he came &s;o wounded. I de&s;ired him to tell me one Day when I vi&s;ited him, and did not think it &s;it to let him know what he had di&s;covered in the heighth of his Fever, le&s;t he &s;hould grow too Melancholy at it. He told me then, that when he parted from <HI>Paris,</HI> he ordered one of his mo&s;t tru&s;ty Servants to &s;tay for him with two Hor|&s;es at a Place not far from <HI>E&s;tajac,</HI> till he &s;hould hear from him; that when he went from the Count <HI>de Marignan</HI>'s, the true Painter took his way towards <HI>Paris,</HI> and he to the Place where his Servant expected him; that when he came to him he found him dangerou&s;ly &s;ick; and he re&s;olv'd to &s;tay till his recovery, and to find out a means to let me know what was become of him; that whil&s;t he was in the&s;e con&s;ide|rations,
<PB N="124" REF="135">he heard my Husband had a&s;&s;embled his Friends for <HI>Mon&s;erolle</HI>'s a&s;&s;i&s;tance, that he had not too pru|dently con&s;ulted, but had followed the advice of his Love only, that made him intere&s;ts him&s;elf in any thing that might be grateful to me; and to do the Count the better &s;er|vice, he took what Men he could get, and obliged them to follow him; and that, in &s;ine, he arrived at a proper time to encourage the Counts Party, and free him from the hands of his Enemies.</P>
<P>I therefore acknowledged all the obligations my Husband and I had to <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> for that good Office, but at the &s;ame time prepared him to leave <HI>E&s;tajac</HI> as &s;oon as his Health would give him leave. 'Twas two or three Days after Madam <HI>d' Ecugy</HI> was gone, before my Husband ask'd what &s;he was doing. <HI>Mon&s;erolle</HI> took upon him the an&s;wer, and told him he could not hinder her from
<PB N="125" REF="135">leaving <HI>E&s;tajac</HI> with <HI>Arbanantes,</HI> and was retired to <HI>Carca&s;&s;onne</HI> to a Rela|tion's. This News did not &s;eem to make any impre&s;&s;ion upon the Count; he bore it with courage, and I bad rea&s;on to believe the Lady was now indifferent to him.</P>
<P>Every thing was very calm at <HI>E|&s;tajac,</HI> the Baron <HI>d' Ecugy</HI> was ca&s;t down with Grief, and the lo&s;s of his Son had rendered him carele&s;s of his Daughters Conduct. She pa&s;t the way to <HI>Carca&s;&s;onne</HI> in re&s;olutions to be revenged of <HI>Mon&s;erolle, Ble|&s;inac,</HI> and me; for <HI>Arbanantes</HI> had acquainted her that <HI>Dormont</HI> was a counterfeited name for <HI>Ble&s;inac.</HI> The de&s;ire &s;he had to undo us all had a little moderated her anger; but when, arriving at <HI>Carca&s;&s;onne, Pla&s;&s;ac</HI> &s;hewing them the way into the Hou&s;e, <HI>Arbanantes</HI> and &s;he were both equally &s;urpri&s;ed to find it a Convent. <HI>Arbanantes</HI> would have re&s;i&s;ted, but <HI>Mon&s;erolle</HI> had given
<PB N="126" REF="136">orders to <HI>Pla&s;&s;ac</HI> to u&s;e force if they met with oppo&s;ition, for which pur|po&s;e he had a Party with him he was well a&s;&s;ured of. She therefore was forc'd to enter the Convent, and <HI>Pla&s;&s;ac</HI> told <HI>Arbanantes,</HI> that the Count <HI>de Marignan</HI> de&s;ired him to return no more to his Hou&s;e. When <HI>Pla&s;&s;ac</HI> had acquitted him&s;elf of his Commi&s;&s;ion, he returned to <HI>E&s;tajac,</HI> where he gave us this ac|count you have from me.</P>
<P>Although <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> was more wounded than the Count <HI>de Ma|rignan,</HI> he was &s;ooner well; and he began to come out of his Cham|ber when <HI>Pla&s;&s;ac</HI> arrived from <HI>Carca&s;&s;onne. Ro&s;e</HI> had let him know that the extremity of his Fever had made him di&s;cover the truth of his Quality, and the fear of cau&s;ing new Di&s;turbances had obliged him to prepare for his departure from <HI>E&s;tajac.</HI> I &s;eldom left my Husband, and <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> &s;ent to let me know
<PB N="127" REF="136">he would &s;peak with me. I thought I owed him that com|plai&s;ance. When the Heart is tru|ly concerned, that fore-knowledge which is occa&s;ioned by Love is in|fallible. I was not &s;en&s;ible in talk|ing to him, of that exqui&s;ite Plea|&s;ure we receive in the Conver&s;ati|on of tho&s;e we love; and though I was re&s;olved not to &s;uffer him to remain at <HI>E&s;tajac,</HI> I received Grief and Inquietude at his parting, and yet dur&s;t not pre&s;s him to &s;tay; but he would go, and I did not hinder him.</P>
<P>He thought it not &s;it to leave <HI>Esta|jac,</HI> and not bid adieu to the Count <HI>de Marignan.</HI> The Count, who was obliged to him, made many endeavours to retain him, but to no purpo&s;e. I mu&s;t confe&s;s I was forced to call all my Rea&s;on and Duty to a&s;&s;i&s;t me to endure this parting. I took my leave of him in my Husbands Chamber, that I
<PB N="128" REF="137">might not expo&s;e my &s;elf to the re|newing our Endearments, and keep him longer with me. <HI>Mon&s;erolle</HI> could not forbear to tell me, he admired the Power I had over my &s;elf in an occa&s;ion where the great|e&s;t Rea&s;on is &s;ubject to a failure. It is true my outward Actions had a good appearance, but my Heart was not the le&s;s afflicted. I pa&s;s'd two Days in this condition, which appeared more &s;ad and tedious to me than my whole Life; but you &s;hall &s;ee to what misfortunes I was de&s;tined.</P>
<P>One Morning when I &s;lept very &s;ound, &s;itting up late over Night, I was waked with &s;uch melancholy thricks and horrid noi&s;e, that touch'd me to the very Heart. I ha&s;tily got up, and run to a Window which look'd into the Ca&s;tle Court. I heard <HI>Ro&s;e</HI>'s Voice, and &s;aw her with the re&s;t of our Servants encompa&s;&s;ing a Dead Man.
<PB N="129" REF="137">O what a &s;ad &s;pectacle, and how horrid it was to me! Death, al|though it be &s;o terrible, does not blot out the Characters of Love, and the poor Dead Man was but too well known by me; he was, Madam, the unhappy <HI>Ble&s;inac.</HI> I was but ju&s;t awake, and a&s;toni&s;h|ment &s;u&s;pended for &s;ome time the effects of my Grief; and I was in the mid&s;t of them, when <HI>Mon&s;e|rolle</HI> came in to tell me the cir|cum&s;tances of that woful misfor|tune. He was u&s;ing &s;ome circum|locutions to prepare me to it, not to &s;trike me Dead at a blow, but he judged by the condition I was in, that I was but too well in|formed; he &s;aid nothing to me, his Tears &s;poke for him, and mine gave to the memory of <HI>Ble&s;inac,</HI> what his Love required of my Pa&s;&s;ion.</P>
<P>As tho&s;e who are truly &s;o, ne|ver believe they are enough af|flicted,
<PB N="130" REF="138">I endeavouring to augment mine, ask'd <HI>Mon&s;erolle</HI> what they heard of the Count <HI>de Ble&s;inac</HI>'s Death. He told me, that when the Ca&s;tle Gate was opened, they &s;aw a Man there with a Hor&s;e, upon which was <HI>Ble&s;inac</HI> Dead, and covered with a Cloak; and that this Man had a Letter for me, and another for the Count <HI>de Marignan,</HI> as it was very expedient for me to receive both the Letters. <HI>Mon&s;erolle</HI> caus'd the Man to be &s;ent for, who was not of &s;o ill a Phy&s;iognomy to be thought by me an Accomplice in &s;o ba&s;e an Action. He told me with many &s;igns of Sorrow, that a Man on Hor&s;e back, whom he did not know, had forc'd him by great threats to carry the Body to my Hou&s;e, and to be a&s;&s;ured he &s;hould not deceive him, he ac|companyed him to the Gate, and ab&s;conded in a Place from whence
<PB N="131" REF="138">he might di&s;cern all his Actions; after this the Man gave me the Letter he was ordered to deliver into my Hands. <HI>Mon&s;erolle</HI> knew by the Writing it came from the treacherous <HI>Arbanantes.</HI> I had not the power to read it, and <HI>Mon&s;e|rolle</HI> did not think fit the Me&s;&s;en|ger &s;hould know the Contents, but asking him for that which was directed for the Count <HI>de Marignan,</HI> he delivered it very hone&s;tly. <HI>Mon&s;erolle</HI> cau&s;ed him to be &s;topp'd, but no ill u&s;age to be offered to him, and then broke open the Letter <HI>Arbanantes</HI> writ to me, and found the&s;e Words.</P>
<P>Here, Madam, is the Object of your Love and my Hatred; we have each of us &s;atisfied our Pa&s;|&s;ions; and if I have but little con|&s;ulted my Honour in taking away his Life, you have renounced
<PB N="132" REF="139">yours as much by your continual Conduct towards him. I wi&s;h that the &s;ight of a Man, once &s;o Dear to you, may now be your eternal Reproach, and may &s;erve as much to your Puni&s;h|ment, as it adds to my Re|venge; and that being the occa|&s;ion of my Crime, you may be as well charg'd with the Remor&s;e I ought to have at it, as with that of having always been &s;o un|faithful to your Husband.</P>
<P>I forgot to tell you, Madam, that <HI>Mon&s;erolle</HI> had &s;ent after <HI>Ar|banantes,</HI> either to take him, or di&s;cover, at lea&s;t, which way he went; and if I had been capable of any Con&s;olation, it had been in hopes this Wretch might &s;uffer the Puni&s;hment he de&s;erved. This Letter adding nothing to his Crime or my Re&s;entment. I de|&s;ired <HI>Mon&s;erolle</HI> to read that di|rected
<PB N="133" REF="139">to my Husband. The&s;e were the Words.</P>
<P>Do not think it &s;trange, that I have kill'd a man who had &s;av'd your life. What acknowledgments &s;oe|ver you imagin'd you ow'd him, I mu&s;t let you know you are more o|blig'd to me, &s;ince when I took a|way his life, I reveng'd you on a man who di&s;honour'd you. As <HI>Ble|&s;inac</HI> he abus'd your good Nature, and as <HI>Dormont</HI> came to in&s;ult over your honour in your own hou&s;e. And I have too good an Opinion of you, to believe any otherwi&s;e than that you will partake with great plea&s;ure in my revenge.</P>
<P><HI>Mon&s;erolle</HI> di&s;covered great tran&s;|ports of anger at the reading of this Note; and he a&s;&s;ur'd me this crime &s;hould not be unpuni&s;h'd. As we knew not the formalities are ob&s;erv'd in the&s;e occa&s;ions, &s;o <HI>Pla&s;|&s;ac</HI> follow'd what mea&s;ures he thought nece&s;&s;ary, whil&s;t <HI>Mon&s;erolle</HI>
<PB N="134" REF="140">undertook to acquaint the Count <HI>de Marignan</HI> with what was pro|per for him to know about this accident. He was extremely trou|bled at it; and the more, be|cau&s;e he thought it had been the Baron <HI>d' Ecugy,</HI> who had caus'd <HI>Dormont</HI> to be a&s;&s;a&s;&s;inated, nei|ther did we undeceive him.</P>
<P>My Husband caus'd as great ho|nours to be done to his Corps, as could have been perform'd, had he known his birth. My di&s;plea&s;ure was the le&s;s di&s;cernible, for the grief my Husband <HI>Mon&s;erolle, Pla&s;&s;ac,</HI> and indeed all our Servants &s;hew'd at this misfortune. But that which proceeds from a compa&s;&s;ion only, &s;eeks con&s;olation, and finds it in the nece&s;&s;ity to endure what can't be prevented. But from this Rule we mu&s;t except the Count <HI>de Marignan,</HI> who gave him&s;elf wholly up to me|lancholy for the lo&s;s of a man who had &s;o generou&s;ly &s;av'd his life. His
<PB N="135" REF="140">heart &s;hew'd him nothing of com|fort, but repre&s;enting to him all that was good and amiable in <HI>Dormont,</HI> he in&s;en&s;ibly fell into a deep concern; which in a few days chang'd the hopes of his recovery, and brought him at la&s;t to death.</P>
<P>The fir&s;t thought it in&s;pir'd me with, was the reproach of not be|ing dead as well as he; and to &s;ee friend&s;hip effect that in my Husband, which love could not produce in me. I reckon'd up after this, all the misfortunes had happen'd to me; and found my &s;elf depre&s;s'd with &s;o violent a grief, that for &s;ome time I thought I &s;hould have retir'd to my Husband and my Lover.</P>
<P>After I had paid my Duty to the Memory of the Count <HI>de Marignan,</HI> I told <HI>Mon&s;erolle</HI> I was oblig'd to deprive my &s;elf of all opportunities
<PB N="136" REF="141">of con&s;olation. He offer'd me to partake in my afflictions all his life. But knowing how little my heart was my own, he did not pre&s;s me to what was not in my power to accord. We parted, and I de&s;igned to go to <HI>Paris</HI> for &s;ome Concerns: But before I left <HI>E&s;ta|jac,</HI> I had the comfort to hear the perfidious <HI>Arbanantes</HI> was peri&s;hed in a River he would have cro&s;s'd, to avoid <HI>Mon&s;erolle,</HI> who pur&s;u'd him. After this, I parted from <HI>E&s;tajac,</HI> with a re&s;olution to re|tire into a Convent, for the bet|ter opportunity to mourn my misfortunes.</P>
<P>The Counte&s;s <HI>de Marignan</HI> ended her Story with &s;o many Sighs and Tears, that Madam <HI>de Mezelon</HI> had not the power to hinder the flowing of her Eyes. They renew'd a tender friend|&s;hip, with engagements it &s;hould
<PB N="137" REF="141">la&s;t eternally, though Madam <HI>de Marignan</HI> was to go very &s;ud|denly for <HI>Bayonne,</HI> and Madam <HI>de Mezelon</HI> to <HI>Vauclu&s;e.</HI></P>
</DIV2>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
</DIV1>
</BODY>
<BACK>
<DIV1 TYPE="publisher's note">
<PB REF="142">
<HEAD>Books Printed for <HI>H. Herringman,</HI> and are to be Sold by <HI>Jo. Knight,</HI> and <HI>F. Saunders.</HI></HEAD>
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<HEAD>Folio, Large.</HEAD>
<P>SIR <HI>William Dugdale</HI>'s Baronage of <HI>England.</HI></P>
<Q><P>&mdash;'s Origines Judiciales.</P>
<P>&mdash;'s Mona&s;ticon Anglicanum.</P></Q>
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<P><HI>Davila</HI>'s Hi&s;tory of the Civil Wars of <HI>France.</HI></P>
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<P>Dr. <HI>William Howell</HI>'s Hi&s;tory of the World to <HI>Con&s;tantine the Great.</HI></P>
<P><HI>Henry the Eighth,</HI> Written by the Lord <HI>Herbert.</HI></P>
<PB REF="142">
<P><HI>Partheni&s;&s;a,</HI> a Romance in &s;ix Parts, Written by the Earl of <HI>Orrery.</HI></P>
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<HEAD>Small Folio.</HEAD>
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<HEAD>Quarto Books.</HEAD>
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<PB REF="143">
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<HEAD>Large Octavo.</HEAD>
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<P>&mdash;'s Hi&s;tory of <HI>Colours.</HI></P>
<P>&mdash;'s <HI>Stile of Scriptures.</HI></P>
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<P>Lord <HI>Brook</HI>'s Remains.</P>
<P><HI>Broome</HI>'s <HI>Horace.</HI></P>
<P><HI>Briti&s;h Princes.</HI> A Poem.</P>
<P>Sir <HI>Robert Howard</HI>'s Poems.</P>
<P>Sir <HI>John Denham</HI>'s Poems.</P>
<P>&mdash;'s <HI>Cato Major.</HI></P>
<P><HI>Carter</HI>'s Heraldry.</P>
<P><HI>Conver&s;ations of the French.</HI></P>
<P>Sir <HI>John Suckling</HI>'s Works.</P>
<P><HI>Characters of the Pa&s;&s;ions.</HI></P>
<P><HI>Cra&s;haw</HI>'s Divine Poems.</P>
<PB REF="143">
<P><HI>Carew</HI>'s Poems.</P>
<P>Dr. <HI>d'E&s;pagno</HI>'s E&s;&s;ays.</P>
<P>Differences of <HI>France</HI> and <HI>Spain.</HI></P>
<P>Duke of <HI>Gui&s;e</HI>'s Memoirs.</P>
<P>Dr. <HI>Donn</HI>'s Poems.</P>
<P><HI>Epicurus</HI>'s Morals.</P>
<P><HI>Di&s;cour&s;e of Gods Judgment.</HI></P>
<P><HI>Hudibra&s;s,</HI> fir&s;t and &s;econd parts.</P>
<P><HI>Henry the fourth,</HI> of <HI>France.</HI> Written by the Bi&s;hop of <HI>Rodez.</HI></P>
<P><HI>Human Indu&s;try: or, The History of the Manual Arts.</HI></P>
<P><HI>Human Soul.</HI></P>
<P>Poems by Sir <HI>Tho. Higgons.</HI></P>
<P><HI>Hero</HI> and <HI>Leander,</HI> a Poem in <HI>Burle&s;qne.</HI></P>
<P><HI>Pa&s;tor Fido,</HI> by Sir <HI>Richard Fan&s;haw.</HI></P>
<P>Journey into <HI>Spain.</HI></P>
<P><HI>Idea of Painting,</HI> by Mr. <HI>Evelyn.</HI></P>
<P>Mr. <HI>Dryden</HI>'s <HI>Annus Mirabilis.</HI></P>
<P>A French Grammar. call'd, <HI>The Prince|ly way to the French Tongue,</HI> Compos'd at fir&s;t for the u&s;e of her Highne&s;s the Lady <HI>Mary,</HI> and &s;ince taught to her Royal Si|&s;ter the Lady <HI>Anne.</HI> By Mon&s;ieur <HI>Peter de Lanie,</HI> Tutor for the French to both their Highne&s;&s;es.</P>
<P><HI>My&s;tagogus Poeticus.</HI></P>
<P>Sir <HI>Tobias Matthews</HI> Letters</P>
<P><HI>Moral State of</HI> England.</P>
<PB REF="144">
<P><HI>Quevedo</HI>'s <HI>Vi&s;ions.</HI> Engli&s;hed by Sir <HI>Roger L'E&s;trange.</HI></P>
<P>Reflections on the Poets by Mr. <HI>Rymer.</HI></P>
<P>Voyage to <HI>Athens,</HI> giving an account of the Ancient and Modern State of that once famous City, with the Life of this pre&s;ent Emperour <HI>Mahomet the fourth,</HI> and the Mini&s;try of the Grand Vizier <HI>Cop|rogli Achmett Pacha,</HI> and the mo&s;t memo|rable Pa&s;&s;ages at the Siege of <HI>Candia.</HI></P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="section">
<HEAD>Novels in Octavo.</HEAD>
<P><HI>Scarron</HI>'s City of Romance.</P>
<P>The <HI>Drudge,</HI> or the jealous Extravagant.</P>
<P>The Loves of <HI>Charles</HI> Duke of <HI>Mantua,</HI> and <HI>Margaret</HI> Counte&s;s of <HI>Rovera.</HI></P>
<P>The <HI>Ephe&s;ian</HI> and <HI>Cemerian</HI> Matrons.</P>
<P>The Husband forced to be jealous, or, the good Fortune of tho&s;e Women that have jealous Husbands.</P>
<P>The Loves of &s;everal Philo&s;ophers and great Men.</P>
<P><HI>Engli&s;h. Adventures,</HI> in two parts. By a Per&s;on of Honour.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="section">
<HEAD>Novels in Twelves.</HEAD>
<P><HI>Don Carlos,</HI> Prince of <HI>Spain.</HI></P>
<P>Prince of <HI>Conde.</HI></P>
<P>The <HI>Gallants,</HI> or, the Reciprocal Con&s;i|dents, in 2 parts, by a Per&s;on of Quality.</P>
<TRAILER>The End of the Catalogue.</TRAILER>
<PB REF="144">
</DIV2>
</DIV1>
</BACK>
</TEXT>
</GROUP>
</TEXT>
</EEBO>
</ETS>
