π1r

Love in Excess;

or the
Fatal Enquiry.

π1v omitted A1r

Love in Excess;

or the
Fatal Enquiry,

A
Novel.

“-------In vain from Fate we fly, For first or last, as all must die So ’tis as much decreed above That first or last, we all must love.” Lansdown.
A portrait of a man wearing a laurel crown and a toga inside an oval surrounded by flowers

London:


Printed for W. Chetwood, at Cato’s-Head in Russel-
Court
, near the Theatre-Royal; and R. Francklin,
at the Sun against St. Dunstan’s Church in Fleet-street;
and Sold by J. Roberts in Warwick-Lane. 1719M.DCC.XIX.
(Price Is.)

A1v omitted A2r

To
Mrs. Oldfield.

Madam,

There is not any
thing can excuse this
presumption, but my
Intention in doing it. If you
please to call to mind your late A2 Good- A2v ii
Goodness to me, you’ll find it
requires my utmost acknowledgment.

But good Actions from you
are like ill ones from others,
no sooner done, than forgot.
I might Expatiate on the
many Beauties of your Mind
and Person, but it wou’d be
like telling the World ’twere
broad Day at Noon,

The Author of the following
Lines is a young Lady,
whose greatest Pride is in the
Patroness I have chose her;
but she’s fearful in not pleasing
one who I am well assur’d is A3r iii
is a real Critick without their
Ill Nature.

I shan’t here mention the
many Authors that have been
oblig’d to you by the Amendments
in your Inimitable Performances.
I wou’d only advise
’em for the future to give
you but the Plan of what they
wou’d have said, and leave the
rest to you.

I shall think my self very
Happy if I cou’d have it to
say the reading these following
Lines had fill’d up the Casma
of one of your vacant Hours.
But I must not Offend, in endeavouring
to Excuse myself; I A3v iv
I only beg you’ll accept this,
from your

Most Faithful, Obedient
Humble Servant,


W. Chetwood.

Love B1r

Love in Excess:
or, The
Fatal Enquiry.

Part the First.

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

The Fame of the Count’s brave Actions arriv’d
before him, and he had the satisfaction of
being receiv’d by the King and Court, after
a Manner that might gratifie the Ambition of the B proudest B1v 2
proudest. The Beauty of his Person, the Gaity
of his Air, and the unequal’d Charms of his Conversation,
made him the Admiration of both
Sexes; and whilst those of his own strove which
shou’d gain the largest share in his Friendship;
the other, vented fruitless Wishes, and in secret,
curss’d that Custom which forbids Women to make
a Declaration of their Thoughts. Amongst the
Number of these was Alovisa, a Lady Descended
(by the Father’s side) from the Noble
Family of the D’ La Tours formerly Lord
of Beujey
, and (by her Mothers) from the
equally Illustrious House of Montmorency.
The late Death of her Parents had left her co-
heiress (with her Sister,) of a vast Estate.

AloisaAlovisa, if her Passion was not greater than
the rest, her Pride, and the good Opinion she had
of her self, made her the less able to support it;
she sigh’d, she burn’d, she rag’d, when she
perceiv’d the Charming D’elmont behav’d
himself toward her with no mark of a Distinguishing
affection. “What” (said she) “have I beheld
without Concern a thousand Lovers at my Feet,
and shall the only Man I ever endeavour’d or
wish’d to Charm, regard me with indifference?
Wherefore has the agreeing World joyn’d with my
Deceitful Glass to flatter me into a vain belief I
had invincible Attractions? D’elmont sees ’em
not, D’elmont is insensible.”
Then wou’d
she fall into Ravings, sometimes cursing her own
want of Power, sometimes the Coldness of D’elmont.
Many Days she pass’d in these Inquietudes,
and every time she saw him (which was
very frequently either at Court, at Church,
or publick Meetings,) she found fresh Matter for B2r 3
for her troubled Thoughts to work upon:
When on any occasion he happen’d to speak to
her, it was with that softness in his Eyes,
and that engaging tenderness in his Voice, as
would half persuade her that, that God had
touch’d his Heart, which so powerfully had Influenc’d
hers; but if a glimmering of such a hope
gave her a Pleasure inconceivable, how great were
the ensuing Torments, when she observ’d those
Looks and Accents were but the Effects of his
natural Complaisance, and that to whom soever
he Address’d, he carry’d an equality in his Behaviour,
which sufficiently evinc’d his Hour was not
yet come to feel those Pains he gave; and if the
afflicted fair ones found any Consolation, it was
in the reflection that no Triumphant Rival could
boast a Conquest; each now despair’d of gaining.
But the impatient Alovisa disdaining
to be rank’d with those, whom her Vanity made
her consider as infinitely her Inferiors, suffer’d
her self to be agitated almost to Madness between
the two Extreams of Love and Indignation; a
thousand Chimeras came into her Head, and
sometimes prompted her to discover the Sentiments
she had in his favour: But these Resolutions
were rejected, almost as soon as form’d, and
she could not fix on any for a long time; ’till at
last, Love (ingenious in Invention,) inspir’d her
with one, which probably might let her into the
Secrets of his Heart, without the shame of revealing
her own.

The Celebration of Madam the Dutchess of
Burgundy’s
Birth-day being to be Solemniz’d
with great Magnificence, she writ this Billet to
him on the Night before.

B2 To B2v 4 “To Count D’elmont. Resistless as you are in War, you are much
more so in Love: Here you Conquer without making
an Attack, and we Surrender before youyour
Summons; the Law of Arms obliges you to show Mercy
to an yielding Enemy, and sure the Court cannot
inspire less generous Sentiments than the Field. The
little God lays down his Arrows at your Feet, confesses
your superior Power, and begs a friendly Treatment;
he will appear to you to morrow Night at the
Ball, in the Eyes of the most passionate of all his Voteresses;
search therefore for him in Her, in whom
(amongst that bright Assembly) you would most desire
to find Him; I am confident you have too much penetration
to miss of him, if not byass’d by a former
Inclination, and in that Hope, I shall, (as patiently
as my Expectations will let me) support till then, the
tedious Hours.
Farewell.”

This she sent by a Trusty Servant, and so disguis’d,
that it was impossible for him to be known,
with a strict Charge to deliver it to the Count’s
own Hands, and come away before he had read
it; the Fellow perform’d her Orders exactly, and
when the Count who was not a little surpriz’d at
the first opening it, ask’d for the Messenger, and
commanded he shou’d be stay’d; his Gentleman
(who then was waiting in his Chamber,) told him
he ran down stairs with all the speed imaginable,
immediately on his Lordship’s receiving it.
D’elmont having never experienc’d the force of
Love, could not presently comprehend the Truth of B3r 5
of this Adventure; at first he imagin’d some of
his Companions had caus’d this Letter to be writ,
either to sound his Inclinations, or upbraid his
little disposition to Gallantry; but these Cogitations
soon gave place to others; and tho’ he was
not very vain, yet he found it no difficulty to
persuade himself to an Opinion that it was possible
for a Lady to distinguish him from other
Men. Nor did he find any thing so displeasing in
that Thought as might make him endeavour to repell
it; the more he consider’d his own Perfections,
the more he was confirm’d in his belief, but
who to fix it on, he was at a loss as much as ever;
he then began to reflect on all the Discourses and
little Railleries that had pass’d between him and the
Ladies whom he had convers’d with since his Arrival,
but cou’d find nothing in any of ’em of Consequence
enough to make him guess at the Person.
He spent great part of the Night in Thoughts very
different from those he was accustom’d to, the
Joy which naturally rises from the Knowledge ’tis
in ones pow’r to give it, gave him Notions which
till then he was a Stranger to; he began to consider
a Mistress as an agreeable, as well as fashionable
amusemement, and resolv’d not to be Cruel.

In the mean time poor Alovisa was in
all the anxiety imaginable, she counted every
Hour, and thought ’em Ages, and at the first
dawn of Day she rose, and calling up her Women,
who were amaz’d to find her so uneasie, she employ’d
’em in placing her Jewels on her Cloaths
to the best Advantage, while she consulted her
Glass after what Manner she should Dress, her
Eyes, the gay, the languishing, the sedate, the
commanding, the beseeching Air were put on, a thousand B3v 6
thousand times, and as often rejected; and she
had scarce determin’d which to make use of, when
her Page brought her word, some Ladies who were
going to Court desir’d her to Accompany them; she
was too impatient not to be willing to be one of
the first, so went immediately, arm’d with all
her Lightnings, but full of unsettled Reflections.
She had not been long in the Drawing Room, before
it grew very full of Company, but D’elmont
not being amongst ’em, she had her Eyes
fix’d toward the Door, expecting every Moment
to see him enter; but how impossible is it to represent
her Confusion, when he appear’d leading
the young Amena, Daughter to Monsieur Sanseverin,
a Gentleman, who tho’ he had a very
small Estate, and many Children, had by a partial
Indulgence, too common among Parents, neglecting
the rest, maintain’d this Darling of his
Heart in all the pomp of Quality—The Beauty
and Sweetness of this Lady was present Death to
Alovisa’s Hopes; she saw, or fancy’d she
saw an unusual joy in her Eyes, and dying Love
in his; Disdain, Despair, and Jealousie at once
crowded into her Heart, and swell’d her almost to
bursting; and ’twas no wonder that the violence
of such terrible Emotions kept her from regarding
the Discourses of those stood by her, or the
Devoirs that D’elmont made as he pass’d by,
and at length threw her into a Swoon; the Ladies
ran to her assistance, and her charming
Rival, being one of her particular Acquaintance,
shew’d an extraordinary assiduity in applying
Means for her relief; they made what hast they
cou’d to get her into another Room, and unfasten
her Robe, but were a great while before they
could bring her to her self; and when they did,
the shame of having been so disorder’d in such an B4r 7
an Assembly, and the fears of their suspecting the
Occasion, added to her former Agonies, and
rack’d her with most terrible revulsions, every
one now despairing of her being able to assist at
that Night’s Entertainment, she was put into
her Chair, in order to be carry’d Home, Amena
who little thought how unwelcome she was grown,
would needs have one call’d, and Accompanyd her
thither, in spight of the Intreaties of D’elmont,
who had before engag’d her for his Partner in
Dancing; not that he was in Love with her, or
at that time believ’d he cou’d be touch’d with a
Passion which he esteem’d a Trifle in it self, and
below the dignity of a Man of Sense; but Fortune
(to whom this Lady no less enamour’d than Alovisa)
had made a thousand Invocations, seem’d
to have allotted her the glory of his first Addresses;
she was getting out of her Chariot just as he
alighted from his, and offering her his Hand, he
perceiv’d hers trembled, which engaging him to
look upon her more earnestly than he was wont,
he immediately fancy’d he saw something of that
languishment in her Eyes, which the obliging
mandate had describ’d. Amena was too lovely
to make that belief disagreeable, and he resolv’d
on the beginnings of an Amour, without giving
himself the trouble of considering the Consequences;
the Evening being extreamly pleasant, he
ask’d if she wou’d not favour him so far as to take
a turn or two with him in the Palace-Garden,
She who desir’d nothing more than such a
particular Conversation, was not at all backward
of complying; he talk’d to her there for some time
in a manner as could leave her no room to doubt
he was intirely Charm’d, and ’twas the air such an Entertain- B4v 8
Entertainment had left on both their Faces, as
produc’d those sad Effects in the jealous Alovisa.
She was no sooner led to her Apartment, but
she desir’d to be put to Bed, and the good natur’d
Amena, who really had a very great kindness
for her, offer’d to quit the Diversions of the Ball,
and stay with her all Night; but unfortunate
Alovisa was not in a Condition to endure
the presence of any, especially her, so put her off
as civilly as her Anxiety would give her leave,
chusing rather to suffer her return to the Ball,
than retain so hateful an Object (as she was now
become) in her sight; and ’tis likely the other
was not much troubled at her Refusal. But how,
(when left alone, and abandon’d to the Whirlwinds
of her Passion,) the desperate Alovisa behav’d,
none but those, who like her, have burn’d
in hopeless Fires can guess, the most lively Description
wou’d come far short of what she felt;
she rav’d, she tore her Hair and Face, and in the
extremity of her Anguish was ready to lay violent
Hands on her own Life. In this Tempest of
Mind, she continu’d for some time, ’till at length
rage beginning to dissipate it self in Tears, made
way for cooler Considerations; and her natural
Vanity resuming its Empire in her Soul, was of
no little service to her on this Occasion. “Why am
I thus disturb’d? mean Spirited as I am!”
said she,
“D’elmont is ignorant of the Sentiments I am
possess’d with in his favour; and perhaps ’tis only
want of Incouragement that has so long depriv’d
me of my Lover; my Letter bore no certain
mark by which he might distinguish me, and who
knows what Arts that Creature might make use of
to allure him. I will therefore”
(pursu’d she,
with a more cheerful Countenance) “direct his erringring C1r 9
Search.”
As she was in this Thought, (happily
for her, who else might have relaps’d,) her Women
who were waiting in the next Room, came in to
know if she wanted any thing; “yes,” answer’d she,
with a Voice and Eyes wholly chang’d; “I’ll rise,
one of you help me on with my Cloaths, and let
the other send Charlo to me, I have instant
Business with him.”
’Twas in vain for ’em to represent
to her the prejudice it might be to her
Health to get out of her Bed at so unseasonable
an hour, it being then just Midnight: They knew
her too absolute a Mistress not to be obey’d, and
executed her Commands, without disputing the
Reason. She was no sooner ready, than Charlo
was introduc’d, who being the same Person
that carry’d the Letter to D’elmont, guess’d
what Affair he was to be concern’d in, and shut
the Door after him. “I commend your Caution,”
said his Lady, “for what I now am going to trust
you with is of more concernment than my Life.”

The Fellow bow’d, and made a thousand protestations
of an eternal Fidelity. “I doubt it not,” resum’d
she, “go then immediately to the Court,
’tis not impossible but in this hurry you may get
into the Drawing Room; but if not, make some
pretence to stay as near it as you can ’till the Ball
be over; listen carefully to all Discourses where
you hear Count D’elmont’s mention’d, enquire
who he Dances with, and above all watch
what Company he comes out with, and bring me
an exact account. Go,”
continu’d she hastily, “these
are all the Orders I have for you to Night, but to
Morrow I shall employ you farther.”
Then turning
to her Escritore, she sat down, and began to
prepare a second Letter, which she hop’d wou’d
be more lucky than the former. She was not C long C1v 10
long writing, Love, and Wit, suggested a world of
passionate and agreeable Expressions to her in a Moment;
but when she had finish’d this so full a Discovery
of her Heart, and was about to sign her
Name to it, not all that Passion which had inspir’d
her with a resolution to sruple nothing that might
advance the compassing her Wishes, nor the Vanity
which assur’d her of success, were forcible
enough to withstand the shock it gave her Pride;
“No, let me rather die!” (said she, starting up, and
frighted at her own Designs) “then be guilty of a
meanness which wou’d render me unworthy of
Life, Oh! Heavens to offer Love, and poorly
sue for Pity! ’tis insupportable! What bewitch’d
me to harbour such a thought as even the vilest of
my Sex would blush at? To pieces then”
(added
she tearing the Paper) “to pieces, with this shameful
witness of my folly, my furious desires may
be the destruction of my Peace, but never of my
Honour, that shall still attend my Name when
Love and Life are fled.”
She continu’d in this
Temper (without being able to compose her self
to rest,) till Day began to appear, and Charlo
return’d with News which confirm’d her
most dreaded suspicions. He told her that he had
gain’d admittance to the Drawing Room several
times, under pretence of delivering Messages to
some of the Ladies; that the whole Talk among
’em was, that D’elmont was no longer insensible
of Beauty; that he observ’d that Gentleman
in very particular Conference with Amena,
and that he waited on her Home in his
Chariot, her own not being in the way. “I know
it,”
said Alovisa (walking about in a disorder’d
motion) “I did not doubt but that I was undone,
and to my other Miseries, have that of beinging C2r 11
aiding to my Rival’s Happiness: Whatever
his Desires were, he carefully conceal’d ’em, ’till
my cursed Letter prompted a Discovery; tenacious
as I was, and too, too confident of this little
Beauty!”
Here she stop’d, and wiping away some
Tears which in spight of her ran down her Cheeks
gave Charlo leave to ask if she had any more
Commands for him. “Yes,” (answer’d she,) “I will
write once more to this undiscerning Man,
and let him know, ’tis not Amena that
is worthy of him; that I may do without prejudicing
my Fame, and ’twill be at least some
easement to my Mind to undeceive the Opinion
he may have conceiv’d of her Wit, for I am almost
confident she passes for the Authoress of
those Lines which have been so fatal to me;”
in
speaking this, without any further Thought, she
once more took her Pen and wrote these Words.

“To Count D’elmont. If Ambition be a Fault, ’tis only in those who
have not a sufficient stock of Merit to support it;
too much Humility is a greater in you, whose Person
and Qualities are too admirable; not to render any
Attempt you shall make justifiable, as well as successul.
Heaven when it distinguish’d you in so particular
a manner from the rest of Mankind, design’d
you not for vulgar Conquests, and you cannot without
a manifest Contradiction to its Will, and an irreparable
injury to your self, make a present of that C2 Heart C2v 12
Heart to Amena, when one, of at least an equal
Beauty, and far superior in every other Consideration,
would sacrifice all to purchase the glorious
Trophy. Continue then no longer in a willful Ignorance,
aim at a more exalted flight, and you will
find it no difficulty to discover who she is that languishes,
and almost dies for an opportunity of confessing
(without too great a breach of Modesty) that
her Soul, and all the Faculties of it, are, and must
be
Eternally Yours,”


This she gave to Charlo, to deliver with
the same Caution as the former; but he was
scarce got out of the House before a new fear assaulted
her, and she repented her uncircumspection.
“What have I done!” cry’d she, “who knows but
D’elmont may shew these Letters to Amena,
she is perfectly acquainted with my Hand, and I
shall be the most expos’d and wretched Woman, in
the World.”
Thus Industrious was she in forming
Notions to Torment her self; nor indeed was
there any thing of improbability in this Conjecture.
There are too many ungenerous enough
to boast such an Adventure; but D’elmont
tho’ he would have given good part of his Estate
to satisfie his Curiosity, yet chose rather to remain
in a perpetual Ignorance, than make use of
any Means that might be disadvantageous to the
Ladies Reputation. He now perceiv’d his Mistake,
and that it was not Amena who had taken that
Method to engage him, and possibly was not disgusted
to find she had a Rival of such Merit, as
the Letter intimated. However he had said too
many fine Things to her to be lost, and thought it
as inconsistent with his Honours Inclination to desist C3r 13
desist a Pursuit in which he had all the reason
in the World to assure himself of Victory; for the
young Amena (little vers’d in the art of Dissimulation,
so necessary to her Sex,) cou’d not
conceal the pleasure she took in his Addresses, and
without even a seeming reluctancy had given him
a promise of meeting him the next Day in the
Tuilleries; nor cou’d all his unknown Mistress had
writ, perswade him to miss this Assignation, nor
let that be succeeded with another, and that by a
third, and so on, ’till by making a shew of Tenderness
he began to fancy himself really touch’d
with a passion he only design’d to represent. ’Tis
certain this way of Fooling rais’d Desires in him
little different from what is commonly call’d
Love; and made him redouble his Attacks in such
a manner, as Amena stood in need of all her
Vertue to resist; but as much as she thought her
self oblig’d to resent such Attempts, yet he knew
so well how to Excuse himself, and lay the blame
on the violence of his Passion, that he was still
too Charming, and too Dear to her not to be forgiven.
Thus was Amena (by her too generous
and open Temper) brought to the very brink of
Ruin, and D’elmont was possibly contriving
means to compleat it, when her Page brought him
this Letter,

To C3v 14 “To Count D’elmont. Some Malicious Persons have endeavour’d to
make the little Conversation I have had with you,
appear as Criminal; therefore to put a stop to all
such Aspersions, I must for the future deny my self
the Honour of your Visits, unless Commanded to
receive ’em by my Father, who only has the Power
of Disposing of
Amena.”

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

“I guess the surprize my lovely Friend is in, but
have not Time now to unriddle the Mystery; I beg
you will be at your Lodgings towards the Evening,
and I will invent a way to send to you. ”

’Twas now that D’elmont began to find
there were Embarrasments in an Intriegue of this
Nature, which he had not foreseen, and stay’d at
Home all Day, impatiently expecting the clearing
of an Affair which at present seem’d so ambiguous.
When it grew a little Duskish, his
Gentleman brought in a young Woman, whom
he immediately knew to be Anaret, an Attendant
on Amena; and when he had made her C4r 15
her sit down, told her he hop’d she was come to
make an Eclaircisment, which would be very
obliging to him, and therefore desir’d she wou’d
not defer it.

“My Lord,” said she, “’tis with an unspeakable
Trouble I discharge that Trust my Lady has repos’d
in me, in giving you a Relation of her Misfortunes;
but not to keep you longer in a suspence,
which I perceive is very uneasie to you;
I shall acquaint you, that soon after you were
gone, my Lady came up into her Chamber, where
as I was preparing to Undress her, we heard Monsieur
Sanseverin
in an angry Tone ask where
his Daughter was? and being told she was above,
we immediately saw him enter, with a Countenance
so enflam’d, as put us both in a mortal apprehension.
‘An ill use,’ (said he to her) ‘have you
made of my Indulgence, and the Liberty I have
allow’d you! cou’d neither the Considerations of
the Honour of your Family, your own Reputation,
nor my eternal Repose, deter you from
such imprudent Actions, as you cannot be ignorant
must be the inevitable ruin of ’em all.’
My
poor Lady was too much surpriz’d at these cruel
Words, to be able to make any Answer to ’em,
and stood trembling, and almost fainting, while
he went on with his Discourse. ‘Was it consistent
with the Niceties of your Sex,’
said he, ‘or with
the Duty you owe me, to receive the Addresses
of a Person whose Pretensions I was a Stranger
to? If the Count D’elmont has any that
are Honourable, wherefore are they conceal’d?’

‘The Count D’elmont!’ (cry’d my Lady,
more frighted than before) ‘never made any Declarations
to me worthy of your Knowledge, nor did C4v 16
did I ever entertain him otherwise, than might
become your Daughter.’
‘’Tis false,’ (interrupted
he furiously) ‘I am but too well inform’d of the
contrary; nor has the most private of your shameful
Meetings escap’d my Ears!’
Judge, Sir, in
what a confusion my Lady was in at this Discourse;
’twas in vain, she muster’d all her Courage
to perswade him from giving Credit to an
Intelligence so injurious to her, he grew the
more enrag’d, and after a thousand Reproaches,
flung out of the Room with all the marks of a
most violent Indignation. But though your Lordship
is too well acquainted with the Mildness of
Amena’s Disposition, not to believe she could
bear the Displeasure of a Father (who had always
most tenderly lov’d her,) with indifference, yet
’tis impossible for you to imagine in what an excess
of Sorrow she was plung’d, she found every
passage of her ill Conduct (as she was pleas’d to
call it) was betray’d, and did not doubt but whoever
had done her that ill Office to her Father,
wou’d take care the Discovery should not be confin’d
to him alone. Grief; Fear, Remorse, and
Shame by turns assaulted her, and made her incapable
of Consolation; even the soft Pleas of
Love were Silenc’d by their Tumultuous Clamours,
and for a Time she consider’d your Lordship
in no other view than that of her Undoer.”

“How!” cry’d D’elmont (interrupting her)
“cou’d my Amena, who I thought all sweetness
judge so harshly of me.”
“Oh! my Lord,” resum’d
Anaret, “you must forgive those first Emotions,
which as violent as they were, wanted but
your presence to dissipate in a Moment; and if
your Idea had not presently that Power, it lost
no Honour by having Foes to struggle with, since at D1r 17
at last it put ’em all to flight, and gain’d so entire
a Victory, that before Morning, of all her
Troubles, scarce any but the fears of losing you
remain’d. And I must take the Liberty to assure
your Lordship, my Endeavours were not wanting
to establish a resolution in her to despise every
thing for Love and you. But to be as brief as I
can in my Relation; the Night was no sooner
gone, than Monsieur her Father came into the
Chamber, with a Countenance, tho’ more compos’d
than that with which he left us, yet with
such an Heir of Austerity, as made my timerous
Lady lose most of the Spirit she had assum’d for
this Encounter. ‘I come not now Amena,’ said
he, ‘to upbraid or punish your Disobedience, if
you are not wholly abandon’d by your Reason,
your own Reflections will be sufficiently your
Tormentors. But to put you in a way, (if not to
clear your Fame, yet to take away all occasion of
future Calumny,) you must write to Count D’elmont.

I Will have no Denials’ continu’d he, (seeing her
about to speak) and leading her to her Escritore,
constrain’d her to write what he dictated, and
you receiv’d; just as she was going to Seal it, a
Servant brought word that a Gentleman desir’d to
speak with Monsieur Sansevarin, he was oblig’d
to step into another Room, and that absence
gave her an opportunity of writing a Note,
which she dextrously slip’d into the Letter, unperceiv’d
by her Father at his return, who little
suspecting what she had done, sent it away immediately.
‘Now,’ said he, ‘we shall be able to
judge the sincerity of the Count’s Affections,
but till then I shall take care to prove my self a PerfonD fon D1v 18
not difinterefted in the Honour of my Family.’
As he spoke these words, he took her by the
Hand, and conducting her thro’ his own into a
little Chamber (which he had order’d to be made
ready for that purpose) shut her into it; I follow’d
to the Door, and seconded my Lady in her
Desires, that I might be permitted to attend her
there; but all in vain, he told me, he doubted
not but that I had been her Confident in this Affair,
and order’d me to quit his House in a few
Days. As soon as he was gone out, I went into
the Garden, and saunter’d up and down a good
while, hoping to get an Opportunity of speaking
to my Lady thro’ the Window, for I knew there
was one that look’d into it; but not seeing her,
I bethought me of getting a little Stick, with
which I knock’d gently against the Glass, and engag’d
her to open it. As soon as she perceiv’d
me a Beam of Joy brighten’d in her Eyes, and glisten’d
thro’ her Tears. ‘Dear Anaret,’ said
she, ‘how kindly do I take this proof of thy Affection,
’tis only in thy Power to alleviate my
Misfortunes, and thou I know art come to offer
thy Assistance.’
Then, after I had assur’d her of
my willingness to serve her in any command, she
desir’d me to wait on you with an account of all
had happen’d, and to give you her Vows of an
Eternal Love. ‘My Eyes,’ said she weeping, ‘perhaps
may ne’er behold him more, but Imagination
shall supply that want, and from my Heart he
never shall be absent.’”
“Oh! do not talk thus,”
cry’d the Count, extreamly touch’d at this Discourse.
“I must, I will see her, nothing shall
hold her from me.”
“You may,” answer’d Anaret,
“but then it must be with the approbation of Monsieur
Sansevarin
, he will be proud to receive you D2r 19
you in Quality of a Suitor to his Daughter, and
’tis only to oblige you to a publick Declaration
that he takes these Measures.”
D’elmont was
not perfectly pleas’d with these Words; he was
too quick sighted not to perceive immediately
what Monsieur Sanseverin drove at, but as
well as he lik’d Amena, found no inclination
in himself to Marry her, and therefore was not
desirous of an Explanation of what he resolv’d
not to seem to understand. He walk’d two or three
turns about the Room, endeavouring to conceal
his Disgust, and when he had so well overcome
the shock, as to banish all visible Tokens of it, “I
would willingly”
said he coldly, “come into any
proper Method for the obtaining the Person of
Amena, as well as her Heart; but there are certain
Reasons for which I cannot make a Discovery
of my Designs to her Father, ’till I have first spoken
with her.”
“My Lord,” reply’d the subtle Anaret
(easily guessing at his Meaning) “I wish to
Heaven there were a possibility of your Meeting;
there is nothing I would not risque to forward it,
and if your Lordship can think of any way in
which I may be serviceable to you, in this short
Time I am allow’d to stay in the Family, I beg
you would command me.”
She spoke this with an
Air as made the Count believe she really had it
in her power to serve him in this Occasion,
and presently hit on the surest means to bind her
to his Interest. “You are very obliging,” said he,
“and I doubt not but your Ingenuity is equal to
your good Nature, therefore will leave the Contrivance
of my Happiness entirely to you; and
that you may not think your Care bestow’d on an
ungrateful Person, be pleas’d”
(continu’d he, giving
her a Purse of Lewis-Dor’s) “to accept this small D2v 20
small Earnest of my future Friendship.”
Anaret,
like most of her Function, was too mercinary
to resist such a Temptation, tho’ it had
been given her to betray the Honour of her whole
Sex; and after a little pause, reply’d, “Your Lordship
is too generous to be refus’d, tho’ in a Matter
of the greatest Difficulty, as indeed this is;
for in the strict Confinement my Lady is, I know no
way but one, and that extreamly hazardous to
her; however, I do not fear but my Perswasions,
joyn’d with her own Desires, will influence
her to attempt it. Your Lordship knows
we have a little Door at the farther end of the
Garden, that opens into the Tuillerys”
. “I do,” cry’d
D’elmont interrupting her, “I have several times
parted from my Charmer there, when my Entreaties
have prevail’d with her to stay longer
with me than she wou’d have the Family to take
notice of.”
“I hope to order the Matter so,” resum’d
Anaret, “that it shall be the Scene this Night
of a most happy Meeting. My Lady unknown
to her Father has the Key of it, she can throw it
to me from her Window, and I can open it to
you, who must be walking near it, about Twelve
or One a Clock, for by that time every body will
be in Bed.”
“But what will that avail,” cry’d Delmont
hastily; since she lies within her Father’s
Chamber, where ’tis impossible to pass without
alarming him”
. “You Lovers are so impatient” rejoyn’d
Anaret smiling, “I never design’d you
should have Entrance there, tho’ the Window is
so low, that a Person of your Lordship’s Stature
and Agility might mount it with a Galliard step,
but I suppose it will turn to as good an account,
if your Mistress by my Assistance gets out of it.”

“But can she,” interrupted he, “will she dost thou think D3r 21
think,”
“fear it not. My Lord,” reply’d she, “be but
punctual to the Hour Amena shall be yours, if
Love, Wit and Opportunity have power to make
her so.”
D’elmont was transported with this
Promise, and the thoughts of what he expected
to possess by her means, rais’d his Imagination to
so high a pitch, as he cou’d not forbear kissing and
embracing her with such Raptures as might not
have been very pleasing to Amena, had she
been witness of ’em. But Anaret who had
other things in her Head than Gallantry, disengag’d
her self from him as soon as she cou’d, taking
more satisfaction in forwarding an Affair in
which she propos’d so much advantage, than in
the Caresses of the most accomplish’d Gentleman
in the World.

When she came Home she found every thing
as she cou’d wish, Monsieur Abroad, and his
Daughter at the Window, impatiently watching
her return, she told her as much of the Discourse
she had with the Count as she thought proper,
extolling his Love and Constancy, and carefully
concealing all she thought might give an umbrage
to her Vertue. But in spight of all the Artifice
she made use of, she found it no easie matter to
perswade her to get out of the Window; the
fears she had of being discover’d, and more expos’d
to her Father’s Indignation, and the Censure of
the World, damp’d her Inclinations, and made her
deaf to the eager Sollicitations of this unfaithful
Woman. As they were Disputing, some of the
Servants hap’ning to come into the Garden, oblig’d
’em to break off, and Anaret retir’d,
not totally despairing of compassing her Designs,
when the appointed Hour should arrive, and D3v 22
andand Amena should know the Darling Object of
her Wishes was so near. Nor did her Hopes deceive
her, the Resolutions of a Lover, when made
against the interest of the Person belov’d, are but
of a short duration; and this unhappy Fair was no
sooner left alone, and had leisure to Contemplate
on the Graces of the charming D’elmont,
but Love plaid his part with such Success, as
made her repent she had chid Anaret for her
Proposal, and wish’d for nothing more than an
Opportunity to tell her so. She pass’d several
hours in Disquietudes she had never known before,
till at last she heard her Father come into the
next Room to go to Bed, and soon after somebody
knock’d softly at the Window, she immediately
open’d it, and perceived by the Light of the
Moon which then shone very bright, that it was
Anaret, she had not patience to listen to the long
Speech the other had prepar’d to perswade her,
but putting her Head as far as she could to prevent
being heard by her Father. “Well Anaret,” said she,
“where is this Adventurous Lover, what is it he
requires of me?”
“Oh! Madam,” reply’d she, overjoy’d
at the compliable Humour she found her in,
“he is now at the Garden Door, there’s nothing
wanting but your Key to give him Entrance;
what farther he requests himself shall tell you,”

“Oh Heavens!” cry’d Amena searching her Pockets,
and finding she had it not; “I am undone, I
have left it in my Cabinet in the Chamber where
I us’d to lie.”
These words made Anaret at
her Wits end, she knew there was no possibility
of fetching it, there being so many Rooms to go
thro’ she ran to the Door, and endeavour’d to
push back the Lock, but had not strength; she
then knew not what to do, she was sure D’elmontmont D4r 23
was on the other side, and fear’d he would
resent this usage to the disappointment of all her
mercenary Hopes, and durst not call to acquaint him
with this misfortune for fear of being heard. As
for Amena, she now was more sensible than
ever of the violence of her Inclinations, by the
extream vexation this Disappointment gave her:
Never did People pass a Night in greater uneasiness,
than these three; the Count who was naturally
impatient could not bear a balk of this nature
without the utmost chagrin. Amena
languish’d, and Anaret fretted to Death, tho’
she resolv’d to leave no Stone unturn’d to set all
right again. Early in the Morning she went to
his Lodgings, and found him in a very ill Humour,
but she easily pacify’d him, by representing
with a great deal of real Grief, the
Accident that retarded his Happiness, and assuring
him there was nothing cou’d hinder the fulfilling
it. The next Night, when she had gain’d
this Point, she came Home, and got the Key into
her possession, but could not get an opportunity all
Day of speaking to her Lady, Monsieur Sanseverin
did not stir out of Doors, and spent most of it
with his Daughter; in his Discourse to her, he
set the Passion the Count had for her in so true
a light, that it made a very great alteration in
her Sentiments, and she began to reflect on the
condescensions she had given a Man who had never
so much as mention’d Marriage to her with so
much shame, as almost overwhelm’d her Love,
and she was now determin’d never to see him,
till he should declare himself to her Father in
such a manner as would be for her Honour.

In D4v 24

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

To E1r 25 “To Count D’elmont. Too many Proofs have I given you of my weakness,
not to make you think me incapable of
forming or keeping any Resolution to the Prejudice of
that Passion you have inspir’d me with: But know,
thou Undoer of my Quiet, tho’ I have Lov’d and still
do Love you with a Tenderness, which I fear will be
Unvanquishable; yet I will rather suffer my Life, than
my Virtue to become its Prey. Press me then no more I
conjure you to such dangerous Interviews, in which I
dare neither Trust my Self, nor You, if you believe me
worthy your real Regard, the way thro’ Honour is open
to receive You; Religion, Reason, Modesty, and Obedience
forbid the rest.
Farewel.”

D’elmont knew the Power he had over her too
well, to be much discourag’d at what he read, and
after a little consultation with Anaret, they
concluded he should go to speak to her, as being
the best Sollicitor in his own Cause. As he came
down the Walk Amena saw him thro’ the Glass,
and the sight of that beloved Object, bringing a
thousand past Endearments to her Memory, made
her incapable of retiring from the Window, and
she remain’d in a Languishing and Immoveable
posture, leaning her Head against the shutter, ’till
he drew near enough to discern she saw him. He
took this for no ill Omen, and instead of falling
on his Knees at an humble distance, as some Romantick
Lovers would have done, redoubled his
pace, and Love and Fortune which on this Occasion
were resolv’d to befriend him, presented to E his E1v 26
his view a large Rolling Stone which the Gard’ner
had accidentally left there; the Iron-work that
held it was very high, and strong enough to bear
a much greater weight than his, so he made no
more to do, but getting on the top of it, was almost
to the waste above the bottom of the Casement.
This was a strange Trial, for had she been
less in Love, good Manners would have oblig’d
her to open it; however she retain’d so much of
her former resolution as to conjure him to be
gone, and not expose her to such Hazards; that if
her Father should come to know she held any
clandestine Correspondence with him, after the
Commands he had given her, she were utterly undone,
and that he never must expect any Condescensions
from her, without being first allow’d by
him. D’elmont, tho’ he was a little startled
to find her so much more Mistress of her Temper
than he believ’d she cou’d be, yet resolv’d to make
all possible use of this Opportunity, which probably
might be the last he should ever have, look’d
on her as she spoke, with Eyes so piercing, so
sparkling with Desire accompany’d with so bewitching
softness, as might have thaw’d the most
frozen reservedness, and on the melting Soul
stamp’d Love’s Impression. ’Tis certain they were
to irresistible to be long withstood, and putting
an end to Amena’s grave remonstrances, gave
him leave to reply to ’em in this manner. “Why
my Life, my Angel,”
said he, “my everlasting
Treasure of my Soul, should these Objections now
be rais’d? how can you say you have given me
your Heart; nay, own you think me worthy that
inestimable Jewel, yet dare not trust your Person
with me a few Hours: What have you to fear from
your adoring Slave, I want but to convince you how E2r 27
how much I am so, by a thousand yet uninvented
Vows.”
“They may be spar’d,” cry’d Amena, hastily
interrupting him, “one Declaration to my Father,
is all the proof that he or I demands of your
Sincerity.”
“Oh! thou inhuman and Tyrannick
Charmer,”
answer’d he (seizing her Hand, and eagerly
kissing it) “I doubt not but your faithful
Anaret has told you, that I cou’d not without
the highest imprudence presently discover the
Passion I have for you to the World.”
“I have, my
Lord,”
said that cunning Wench who stood near
him, “and that ’twas only to acquaint her with the
Reasons why for some time you wou’d have it a
Secret, that you so much desir’d to speak with
her.”
“Besides” (rejoyn’d the CountCount) “consider my
Angel how much more hazardous it is for you to
hold Discourse with me here, than at a farther
distance from your Father; your denying to go
with me is the only way to make your fears prove
true; his jealousie of you may possibly make him
more wakeful than ordinary, and we are not sure
but that this minute he may tear you from my
Arms; whereas if you suffer me to bear you
hence, if he should happen to come even to your
Door, and hear no noise, he will believe you sleeping,
and return to his Bed well satisfy’d.”
With
these and the like Arguments she was at last
overcome, and with the assistance of Anaret,
he easily lifted her down. But this
rash Action, so contrary to the Resolution
she thought her self before a few moments
before so fix’d in, made such a confusion in her
Mind, as render’d her insensible for some time of
all he said to her. They made what hast they
could into the Tuilleries and D’elmont having
plac’d her on one of the most pleasant Seats E2 was E2v 28
was resolv’d to loose no time, and having given
her some Reasons for his not addresssing to her Father;
which tho’ weak in themselves, were easily
believ’d by a Heart so willing to be deceiv’d
as hers, he began to press for a greater confirmation
of her affection than Words; and ’twas now
this inconsiderate Lady found her self in the greatest
strait she had ever yet been in; all Nature
seem’d to favour his Design, the pleasantness of
the Place, the silence of the Night, the sweetness
of the Air, perfum’d with a thousand various
Odours wafted by gentle Breezes from adjacent
Gardens compleated the most delightful Scene
that ever was, to offer up a Sacrifice to Love; not
a Breath but flew wing’d with desire, and sent soft
thrilling wishes to the Soul; Cynthia her self
cold as she is reported, assisted in the Inspiration,
and sometimes shone with all her brightness, as it
were to feast their ravish’d Eyes with gazing on
each others Beauty; then veil’d her Beams in
Clouds, to give the Lover boldness, and hide the
Virgins blushes. What now could poor Amena do,
surrounded with so many Powers, attack’d by such a
charming force without, betray’d by tenderness
within: Vertue and Pride, the Guardians of her
Honour fled from her Breast, and left her to her
Foe, only a modest bashfulness remain’d, which
for a time made some defence, but with such
weakness as a Lover less impatient than D’elmont
would have little regarded. The heat of
the Weather, and her confinement having hindred
her from Dressing that Day, she had only a thin
silk Night Gown on, which flying open as he
caught her in his Arms, he found her panting
Heart beat measures of consent, her heaving
Breast swell to be press’d by his, and every Pulse confess E3r 29
confess a wish to yield; her Spirits all dissolv’d
sunk in a Lethargy of Love, her snowy Arms
unknowing grasp’d his Neck, her Lips met his
half way, and trembled at the touch; in fine
there was but a moment betwixt her and Ruine;
when the tread of some body coming hastily down
the Walk, oblig’d the half-bless’d Pair to put a
stop to farther Endearments. It was Anaret
who having been left Centinel in the Garden, in
order to open the Door when her Lady should return,
had seen Lights in every Room in the House,
and heard great confusion, so ran immediately to
give ’em notice of this Misfortune. These dreadful
Tidings soon rous’d Amena from her Dream
of Happiness, she accus’d the influence of her
Amorous Stars, upbraided Anaret, and blam’d
the Count in Terms little differing from distraction,
and ’twas as much as both of ’em could do
to perswade her to be calm. However ’twas concluded
that Anaret should go back to the House
and return to ’em again, as soon as she had learn’d
what accident had occasion’d this disturbance. The
Lovers had now a second opportunity, if either
of ’em had been inclin’d to make use of it, but
their Sentiments were entirely chang’d with this
alarm; Amena’s Thoughts were wholly taken
up with her approaching shame, and vow’d she
wou’d rather die than ever come into her Father’s
presence, if it were true that she was miss’d; the
Count who wanted not good Nature, seriously reflecting
on the Misfortunes he was likely to bring
on a young Lady who tenderly lov’d him, gave
him a great deal of real remorse, and the consideration
that he should be necessitated, either to
own an injurious Design, or come into measures
for the clearing of it, which would in no way agreegree E3v 30
with his Ambition, made him extreamly
pensive, and wish Amena again in her Chamber,
more earnestly than ever he had done to get
her out of it, they both remain’d in a profound
silence, impatiently waiting the approach of Anaret;
but she not coming as they expected,
and the Night wearing away apace, very much
encreas’d the trouble they were in; at length the
Count after revolving a thousand Inventions in his
Mind advis’d to walk toward the Garden and see whether
the Door was yet open. “’Tis beter for you, Madam,”
said he, “whatsoever has happened to be found
in your own Garden, than in any place with me.”

Amena comply’d, and suffer’d her self to be led
thither, trembling and ready to sink with fear
and grief at every step; but when they found all
fast, and that there was no hopes of getting entrance,
she fell quite senseless, and without any
signs of Life at her Lover’s feet; he was strangely
at a loss what to do with her, and made a thousand
Vows, if he got clear of this Adventure, never
to embark in another of this nature; he was
little skill’d in proper means to recover her, and
’twas more to her Youth and the goodness of her
Constitution that she ow’d the return of his Senses,
than his aukward endeavours; when she reviv’d,
the piteous Lamentations she made, and
the perplexity he was in how to dispose of her,
was very near reducing him to as bad a Condition
as she had been in; his never ’till now having had
occasion for a Confident, render’d him so unhappy
as not to know any one Person at whose House
he could with any convenience trust her and
to carry her to that where he had Lodgings was the E4r 31
the way to be made the talk of all Paris. He ask’d
her several times if she would not command him
to wait on her to some place where she might remain
free from Censure till she heard from her
Father, but cou’d get no Answer but upbraidings
from her. So making a Virtue of Necessity, he
was oblig’d to take her in his Arms, with a design
to bring her (tho’ much against his Inclinations)
to his own Apartment: As he was going thro’ a
very fair Street which led to that in which he
liv’d, Amena cry’d out with a sort of joy, “loose
me my Lord, I see a Light in yonder House, the
Lady of it is my dearest Friend, she has power
with my Father, and if I beg her protection, I
doubt not but she will afford it me, and perhaps
find some way to mitigate my Misfortunes;”
the
Count was overjoy’d to be eas’d of his fair Burthen,
andand setting her down at the Gate was preparing
to take his leave with an indifference, which
was but too visible to the afflicted Lady. “I see,
my Lord”
said she, “the pleasure you take in getting
rid of me, exceeds the trouble for the ruine
you have brought upon me; but go, I hope I shall
resent this Usage as I ought, and that I may be
the better enabled to do so, I desire you to return
the Letter I writ this fatal Night, the Resolution it
contain’d will serve me to remind me of my shameful
breach of it.”

“Madam,” (answer’d he coldly, but with great
complaisance,) “you have said enough to make a
Lover less obedient refuse; but because I am sensible
of the accidents that happen to Letters, and
to shew that I can never be repugnant even to the
most rigorous of your Commands, I shall make no E4v 32
no scruple in fulfilling this, and trust to your
goodness for the re-settling me in your esteem,
when next you make me so happy as to see you.”

The formality of this Compliment touch’d her to
the quick, and the thought of what she was like to
suffer on his account, fill’d her with so just an anger,
that as soon as she got the Letter, she knock’d
hastily at the Gate, which being immediately open’d,
broke off any farther Discourse, she went
in, and he departed to his Lodging, ruminating
on every Circumstance of this Affair, and consulting
with himself how he should proceed. Alovisa
(for it was her House which Amena by a
whimsical effect of Chance had made choice of for
her Sanctuary) was no sooner told her Rival was
come to speak with her, but she fell into all the
raptures that successful malice could inspire, she
was already inform’d of part of this Night’s Adventur
for the cunning Charlo who by her
Orders had been a diligent Spy on Count
D’elmont’s
Actions, and as constant an attendant
on him as his shadow, had watch’d him to
Monsieur Sanseverin’s Garden, seen him enter,
and afterwards come with Amena into the Tuillerys,
where perceiving ’em Seated, ran Home,
and brought his Lady an account; Rage, Jealousie
and Envy working their usual effects in her, at this
News, made her promise the Fellow infinite Rewards
if he would invent some Stratagem to seperate,
’em, which he undertaking to do, occasion’d
her being up so late, impatiently waiting his return;
she went down to receive her with great Civility,
mix’d with a seign’d surprize to see her at such
an hour, and in such a Dishabilee, which the other answering F1r 33
answering ingeniously, and freely letting her into
the whole secret, not only of her Amour, but the
coldness she observ’d in D’elmont’s Behaviour
at parting, fill’d this cruel Woman with so exquisite
a Joy as she was hardly capable of dissembling;
therefore to get liberty to indulge it, and
to learn the rest of the particulars of Charlo,
who she heard was come in, she told Amena she
would have her go to Bed, and endeavour to compose
her self, and that she would send for Monsieur
Sanseverin
in the Morning, and endeavour
to reconcile him to her. “I will also” added
she with a deceitful smile, see the Count D’elmont,
and talk to him in a manner as shall make
him truly sensible of his Happiness; nay, so far
my Friendship shall extend, that if there be any
real Cause for making your Amour a secret, he
shall see you at my House, and pass for a Visitor
of mine; I have no body to whom I need be accountable
for my Actions, and am above the censures
of the World.”
Amena thank’d her in
terms full of gratitude, and went with the Maid,
whom Alovisa had order’d to conduct her to a
Chamber prepar’d for her; as soon as she had got
rid of her, she call’d for Charlo, impatient to
hear by what contrivance this lucky Chance had
befallen her. “Madam,” said he, “tho’ I form’d a
thousand Inventions, I found not any so plausible, as
to alarm Monsieur Sanseverin’s Family, with an
outcry of Fire. Therefore I rang the Bell at the
fore-gate of the House, and bellow’d in the most
terrible accent I could possible turn my Voice to,
‘Fire, Fire, rise, or you will all be burnt in your Beds.’
I had not repeated this many times, before I found
the effect I wish’d; the Noises I heard, and the
Lights I saw in the Rooms, assur’d me there were F no F1v 34
no Sleepers left; then I ran to the Tuilliers, designing
to observe the Lover’s proceedings, but I
found they were appriz’d of the Danger they were
in of being dis over’ddiscover’d, and were coming to endeavour
an entrance into the Garden.”
“I know the
rest,”
interrupted Alovisa, “the Event has answer’d
even beyond my Wishes, and thy Reward for this
good SerivceService shall be greater than thy Expectations.”

As she said these words, she retir’d to her Chamber,
more satisfy’d than she had been for many
Months. Quite different did poor Amena pass
the Night, for besides the grief of having disoblig’d
her Father, banish’d her self his House,
and expos’d her Reputation to the unavoidable
censures of the unpitying World; for an ungrateful,
or at best an indifferent Lover. She receiv’d
a vast addition of Afflictions, when taking out
the Letter which D’elmont had given her at
parting, possible to weep over it; and accuse her
self for so inconsiderately breaking the noble resolution
it contain’d: She found it was Alovisa’s
Hand, for the Count by mistake had given
her the second he receiv’d from that Lady, instead
of that she desir’d him to return. Never
was Surprize, Confusion, and Dispair at such a
height, as in Amena’s Soul at this Discovery;
she was now assur’d by what she read, that she
had fled for protection to the very Person she
ought most to have avoided; that she had made a
Confident of her greatest Enemy, a Rival dangerous
to her Hopes in every Circumstance. She
consider’d the High Birth and vast Possessions that
Alovisa was Mistress of, in opposition to her
Father’s scanted power of making her a Fortune.
Her Wit and Subtilty against her Innocence and
Simplicity; her Pride, and the respect her grandeurdeur F2r 35
commanded from the World, against her own
deplor’d and wretched State, and look’d upon her
self as wholly lost. The violence of her Sorrow
is more easily imagin’d than express’d; but of all
her melancholy reflections, none rack’d her equal
to the belief she had that D’elmont was not
unsensible by this time whom the Letter came
from, and had only made a Court to her to amuse
himself a while, and then suffer her to fall a Sacrifice
to his Ambition, and feed the vanity of her
Rival; a just Indignation now open’d the Eyes of
her Understanding, and considering all the passages
of the Count’s Behaviour, she saw a thousand
Things which told her, his Designs on her were
far unworthy of the name of Love. None that
were ever touch’d with the least of those Passions
which agitated the Soul of Amena, can believe
they would permit Sleep to enter her Eyes: But
if Grief and Distraction kept her from repose;
Alovisa had too much Business on her hands to
enjoy much more. She had promis’d Amena to
send for her Father, and the Count, and found there
were not too many Moments before Morning, to
contrive so many different forms of Behaviour,
as should deceive ’em all three, compleat the
Ruin of her Rival, and engage the Addresses of her
Lover; as soon as she thought it a proper Hour,
she dispatch’d a Messenger to Count D’elmont,
and another to Monsieur Sanseverin’s, who full
of Sorrow as he was, immediately obey’d her Summons.
She receiv’d him in her Dressing-room,
and with a great deal of feign’d Trouble in her
Countenance, accosted him in this manner. “How
hard is it,”
said she, “to dissemble Grief, and in
spite of all the Care which I doubt not you have
taken to conceal it, in consideration of your own F2 and F2v 36
and Daughter’s Honour. I too plainly perceive
it in your face to imagine that my own is hid.”

“How, Madam,” cry’d the impatient Father, (then
giving a loose to his Tears) “are you acquainted
then with my Misfortune?”
“Alas,” answered she, “I
fear by the consequences you have been the last
to whom it has been reveal’d. I hop’d that my
Advice, and the daily proofs the Count gave your
Daughter of the little regard he had for her,
might have fir’d her to a generous Disdain, and
have a thousand Pardons to ask of you for breach
of Friendship, in concealing an Affair so requisite
you should have known.”
“Oh! Madam,” resum’d
he, interrupting her, “I conjure you make no Apologies
for what is past, I know too well the greatness
of your goodness, and the favour you have always
been pleas’d to honour her with; not to be
assur’d she was happy in your esteem, and only
beg I may no longer be kept in Ignorance of the
fatal Secret.”
“You shall be inform’d of all,” said
she, “but then you must promise me to act by my
Advice;”
which he having promis’d, she told him
after what manner Amena came to her House,
the coldness the Count express’d to her, and the
violence of her Passion for him. “Now,” said she,
“if you should suffer your rage to break out in any
publick manner against the Count, it will only
serve to make your Daughters Dishonour the Table-
Talk of all Paris. He is too great at Court, and
has too many Friends to be compell’d to any
Terms for your satisfaction; besides, the least
noise might make him discover by what means he
first became acquainted with her, and her excessive,
I will not say troublesom fondness of him, since
which should he do, the shame wou’d be wholly her’s,
for few wou’d condemn him for accepting the offer’d F3r 37
offer’d Caresses of a Lady so young and beautiful
as Amena.”
“But is it possible,” cry’d he (quite
confounded at these words) “that she should stoop
so low to offer Love. Oh Heavens! is this the
effect of all my Prayers, my Care, and my Indulgence.”
“Doubt not,” resum’d Alovisa “of the
Truth of what I say, I have it from her self, and
to convince you it is so, I shall inform you of
something I had forgot before.”
Then she told
him of the Note she had slip’d into the Letter he
had forced her to write, and of sending Anaret
to his Lodgings, which she heightned with all the
aggravating Circumstances her Wit and Malice
cou’d suggest, till the old Man believing all she said
as an Oracle, was almost senseless between Grief
and Anger; but the latter growing rather the most
predominant, he vow’d to punish her in such a
manner as should deter all Children from Disobedience.
“Now,” said Alovisa, “it is, that I expect
the performance of your Promise; these threats
avail but little to the retrieving your Daughter’s
Reputation, or your quiet; be therefore perswaded
to make no words of it, compose your Countenance
as much as possible to serenity, and think
if you have no Friend in any Monastry where
you could send her till this Discourse, and her
own foolish Folly be blown over. If you have
not, I can recommend you to one at St. Dennis
where the Abbess is my near Relation, and on
my Letter will use her with all imaginable Tenderness.”
Monsieur was extreamly pleas’d at this
Proposal, and gave her those thanks the seeming
kindness of her offer deserv’d. “I would not,” resum’d
she, “have you take her Home, or see her
before she goes; or if you do, not till all things
are ready for her Departure, for I know she will be F3v 38
be prodigal of her promises of Amendment, ’till
she has prevail’d with your Fatherly Indulgence
to permit her stay at Paris, and know as well she
will not have the power to keep ’em in the same
Town with the Count. She shall if you please,
remain conceal’d in my House, ’till you have provided
for her Journey, and it will be a great means
to put a stop to any farther reflections the malicious
may make on her; if you give out she is
already gone to some Relations in the Country.”

As she was speaking Charlo came to acquaint
her, one was come to visit her. She made no
doubt but ’twas D’elmont, therefore hastned
away Monsieur Sanseverin, after having fix’d
him in a Resolution to do every thing as she
advis’d. It was indeed Count D’elmont that
was come, which as soon as she was assur’d of,
she threw off her dejected and mournful Air, and
assum’d one all gaity and good Humour, dimpled
her Mouth with Smiles, and call’d the laughing
Cupids to her Eyes.

“My Lord,” said she, “you do well by this early
visit to retrieve your Sexes drooping fame of constancy,
and prove the nicety of Amena’s discernment
in conferring favours on a Person, who
to his other Excellent Qualifications, has that of
assiduity to deserve them;”
as he was about to reply,
the rush of somebody coming hastily down
the Stairs which faced the room they were in, oblig’d
’em to turn that way. It was the unfortunate
Amena, who not being able to endure the
thoughts of staying in her Rivals House, distracted
with her griefs, and not regarding what should
become of her, as soon as she heard the Doors
were open, was preparing to fly from that detested
place. Alovisa was vex’d to the Heart at F4r 39
at sight of her, hoping to have had some Discourse
with the Count before they met; but she
dissembled it, and catching hold of her as she was
endeavouring to pass, ask’d where she was going,
and what occasion’d the Disorder she observ’d in
her. “I go,” (answer’d Amena) “from a false Lover,
and a falser Friend, but why shou’d I upbraid
you”
(continu’d she looking wildly sometimes on
the Count, and sometimes on Alovisa) “Treacherous
Pair, you know too well each others Baseness,
and my wrongs, no longer then, detain a wretch
whose presence, had you the least Sense of Honour,
Gratitude, or even Common Humanity, wou’d
fill your Consciences with Remorse and Shame;
and who has now no other wish, than that of shunning
you for ever.”
As she spoke this, she strugled
to get loose from Alovisa’s Arms, who, in spite
of the Amazement she was in, still held her. D’elmont
was no less confounded, and intirely
ignorant of the meaning of what he heard, was
at a loss how to reply, ’till she resum’d her reproaches
in this manner: “Why ye Monsters of barbarity,”
said she, “do you delight in beholding the
ruins you have made? Is not the knowledge of my
Miseries, my everlasting miseries sufficient to content
you? And must I be debarr’d that only Remedy
for woes like mine? Death! Oh Cruel return
for all my Love, my Friendship! and the
confidence I repos’d in you. Oh! to what am I
reduced by my too soft and easie nature, hard fate
of tenderness, which healing others, only wounds
it’s self.—Just Heavens!—”
here she stop’d the
violence of her resentment endeavouring to vent
it self in sighs, rose in her breast with such an impetuosity
as choak’d the passage of her words, and she F4v 40
she fell in a swoon, tho’ the Count, and Alovisa
were both in the greatest Consternation imaginable,
yet neither of ’em were negligent in trying
to recover her, as they were busi’d about her,
that fatal Letter which had been the cause of this
disturbance, fell out of her Bosom, and both being
eager to take it up (believing it might make some
discovery) had their hands on it at the same time;
it was but slightly folded, and immediately shew’d
’em from what sourse Amena’s dispair proceeded
her upbradings of Alovisa, and the Blushes and
Confusion which he observ’d in that Ladies Face,
as soon as ever she saw it opened, put an end to
the mistery, and one less quick of Apprehension
then D’elmont, wou’d have made no difficulty
in finding his unknown Admirer in the Person of
Alovisa: She to conceal the dissorder she was
in at this Adventure, as much as possible; call’d
her Women, and order’d ’em to Convey Amena
into an other Chamber where there was more Air,
as she was preparing to follow turning a little towards
the Count, but still extreamly confus’d,
“you’l Pardon, me, my Lord,” said she, “if my
concern for my Friend obliges me to leave you.”

“Ah Madam,” reply’d he, “forbear to make any Apologies
to me, rather Summon all your goodness to
forgive a wretch so blind to happiness as I have
been:”
She either cou’d not, or wou’d not make
any answer to these Words, but seeming as tho’
she heard ’em not went hastily into the Room
where Amena was, leaving the Count full of
various, and confus’d Reflections, the sweetness
of his Disposition made him regret his being the
Author of Amena’s Misfortunes, but how miserable
is that Womans Condition, who by her Mismanagementmanagement G1r 41
is reduc’d to so poor a Comfort as the
pity of her Lover, that Sex is generally too gay,
to continue long uneasie, and there was little likelihood
he cou’d be capable of Lamenting Ills
which his small acquaintance with the Passion
from which they sprang, made him not Comprehend.
The pleasure, the discovery gave him of a Secret,
he had so long desir’d to find out, kept him
from being too much concern’d at the Adventure
that occasion’d it, but he cou’d not forbear accusing
himself of intollerable Stupidity, when he
Consider’d the passages of Alovisa’s Behaviour,
her swooning at the Ball, her constant Glances,
her frequent Blushes when he talk’d to her, and all
his Cogitations whether on Alovisa or Amena,
were mingled with a wonder that Love should have
such Power. The diversity of his Thoughts wou’d
have entertain’d him much longer; if they had
not been interrupted by his Page, who came in a
great hurry, to acquaint him, that his Brother
the young Chevalier Brillian was just come to
Town, and waited with Impatience for his Coming
Home, as much a Stranger as D’elmont was
to the affairs of Love, he was none to those of
Friendship, and making no doubt but that the former
ought to yield to the latter in every respect, Contented
himself with telling one of Alovisa’s
Servants, as he went out, that he wou’d wait on
her in the Evening, and made what hast he cou’d
to give his Beloved Brother the welcome he expected
after so long an absence, and indeed the manner
of their meeting express’d a most intire and
sincere Affection on both sides; the Chevalier was
but year a younger than the Count, they had been
bred together from their Infancy, and there was
such a Simpathy in their Souls, and so great a ResemblanceG semblance G1v 42
in their Persons, as very much Contributed
to endear ’em to each other with a Tenderness
far beyond that which is ordinarily found among
Relations. After the first Testimonies of it
were over, D’elmont began to Question him
how he had past his time since their Separation,
and to give him some little Reproaches for not
writing so often as he might have Expected. “Alas!
my dearest Brother,”
Replied the Chevalier, such
various Adventures have hap’ned to me since we
parted, as when I relate ’em will I hope excuse
my seeming negligence;”
these words were accompanied
with sighs, and a Melancholly Air immediately
overspreading his face, and taking away
a great part of the vivacity, which lately
sparkled in his Eyes, rais’d an Impatient desire
in the Count to know the reason of it, which,
when he had exprest, the other, (after having
engag’d him that whatever Causes he might find
to ridicule his Folly, he wou’d suspend all appearance
of it, ’till the end of his Narration) began to
satisfie in this Manner.

The G2r 43

The Story of
the
Chevalier Brillian

“At St. Omers where you left me, I hapned
to make an Acquaintance with one Monsieur
Bellpine
a Gentleman, who was there on
some Business, we being both pretty much Strangers
in the Place occasion’d an Intimacy between
us, which the disparity of our Tempers, wou’d have
prevented our Commencing at Paris, but you
know I was never a Lover of Solitude, and for
want of Company more agreeable, was willing
to Encourage his. He was indeed so obliging as
to stay longer at St. Omers then his Affairs required,
purposely to engage me to make Amiens in
my way to Paris. He was very vain, and fancying
himself happy in the esteem of the fair Sex,
was desirous I should be witness of the Favours
they bestow’d on him. Among the number of those
he used to talk of, was Madamoiselle Ansellina
De La Tour
, a Parisian Lady, and Heiress of a
great Estate, but had been some time at Amiens,
with Madam the Baroness de Beronville her
God-Mother. The wonders he told me of this
young Ladies Wit, and Beauty, inclin’d me to a
desire of seeing her, and as soon as I was in a
Condition to Travel, we took our way towards
Amiens, he us’d me with all the Friendship he
was capable of expressing: And soon after we arriv’d,
carried me to the Baronesses: But oh Heavens!G2 vens! G2v 44
how great was my astonishment when I found
Ansellina as far beyond his faint Description,
as the Sun Beams the Imitation of Art; besides
the regularity of her Features, the delicacy of her
Complexion, and the just Simmetry of her whole
Composition, she has an undiscribable sweetness
that plays about her Eyes, and Mouth, and softens
all her Air: But all her Charms dazling as they
are wou’d have lost their Captivating force on me if
I had believ’d her capable of that weakness for Bellpine
that his vanity wou’d have made me think:
she is very Young and Gay, and I easily perceiv’d
She suffer’d his Addresses more out of Diversion
then any real regard she had for him; he held a
constant Correspondence at Paris, and was continually
furnish’d with every thing that was Novel,
and by that means introduc’d himself into many
Companies who else wou’d not have endur’d him;
but when at any time I was so happy as to entertain
the Lovely Ansellina alone, and we had
opportunity for serious Discourse, (which was
impossible in his Company) I found that she was
Mistress of a Wit, Poynant enough to be Satyrical,
yet it was accompanied with a Discretion as very
much heighten’d her Charms, and compleated
the Conquest that her Eyes begun. I will confess
to you Brother that I became so devoted to my
Passion that I had no leisure for any other Sentiments.
Fears, Hopes, Anxieties: Jealous Pains, uneasie
Pleasures, all the Artillery of Love, were
garrison’d in my Heart, and a thousand various
half form’d Resolutions fill’d my Head. Ansellina’s
insensibility among a Crowd of Admirers,
and the disparity of our Fortunes wou’d have given
me just Causes of Dispair, if the Generosity
of her Temper had not disipated the one, and her youth G3r 45
youth, and the hope her hour was not yet come,
the other. I was often about letting her know
the Power she had over me, but something of
an awe which none but those who truly Love
can guess at, still prevented my being able
to utter it, and I believe should have Languished
’till this moment in an unavailing silence,
if an accident had not hap’ned to embolden me:
I went one Day to visit my Adorable, and being
told she was in the Garden, went thither
in hopes to see her, but being deceiv’d in my
Expectation, believ’d the Servant who gave me
that Information was Mistaken, and Fancying
she might be retir’d to her Closet as she very
often did in the Afternoon, and the pleasantness
of the Place inducing me to stay there till
she was willing to admit me. I sat down at
the foot of a Diana, Curiously Carv’d in
Marble, and full of Melancholly Reflections
without knowing what I did, took a black Lead
Pen out of my Pocket, and writ on the Pedestal
these two Lines.
Hopeless, and silent, I must still adore, Her Heart’s more hard than Stone whom I’d implore. I had scarce finish’d ’em, when I perceiv’d Ansellina
at a good distance from me, coming
out of a little close Arbor; the respect I had for
her, made me fear she should know I was the Author
of ’em, and guess what I found I had not
gain’d Courage enough to tell her. I went out of
the Alley as I imagin’d unseen, and design’d to
come up another, and meet her, before she cou’d
get into the House. But tho’ I walk’d prety fast,
she had left the place before I cou’d attain it; and
in her stead, (casting my Eyes toward the Statue with G3v 46
with an Intention to rub out what I had writ) I
found this Addition to it.
You wrong your Love, while you conceal your Pain, Stones will dissolve with constant drops of Rain. But, my dear Brother, if you are yet insensible
of the wonderful effects of Love, you will
not be able to imagine what I felt at this view; I
was satisfied it cou’d be writ by no body but Ansellina,
there being no other Person in the Garden,
and knew as well she cou’d not design that
Encouragement for any other Man, because on
many occasions she had seen my Hand; and the
Day before had written a Song for her, which she
desir’d to learn, with that very Pen I now had
made use of, and going hastily away at the sight
of her, had forgot to take with me. I gaz’d upon
the dear obliging Characters, and kiss’d the Marble
which contain’d ’em; a thousand times before
I cou’d find in my heart to efface ’em; as I was
in this agreeable amazement, I hear’d Belpine’s
Voice calling to me as he came up the
Walk, which oblig’d me to put an end to it, and
the Object which occasion’d it. He had been told
as well as I, that Ansellina was in the Garden,
and expressing some wonder to see me alone,
ask’d where she was? I answer’d him with a great
deal of real Truth, that I knew not, and that I
had been there some time, but had not been so
happy as to entertain her. He seem’d not to give
Credit to what I said, and began to use me after a
fashion as would have much more astonish’d me
from any other Person. ‘I would not have you,’
said he, ‘be concern’d at what I am about to say,
because you are one of those for whom I am willingling G4r 47
to preserve a Friendship; and to convince
you of my Sincerity, give you leave to address
after what manner you please to any of the Ladies
with whom I have brought you acquainted,
excepting Ansellina. But I take this Opportunity
to let you know I have already made choice
of her, with a design of Marriage, and from this
time forward, shall look on any Visits you shall
make to her, as injurious to my Pretensions.’

Tho’ I was no Stranger to the Vanity and Insolence
of Bellpine’s Humour, yet not being accustom’d
to such arbitrary kind of Treatment,
had certainly resented it, (if we had been in any
other place) in a very different manner than I
did, but the consideration that to make a Noise
there wou’d be a Reflection rather than a Vindication
on Ansellina’s Fame; I contented my
self with telling him, he might be perfectly easie,
that whatever Qualifications the Lady might have
that should encourage his Addresses, I should never
give her any reason to boast a Conquest over
me. These words might have born two Interpretations,
if the disdainful air with which I spoke
’em, and which I cou’d not dissemble, and my going
immediately away, had not made him take
’em as they were really design’d, to affront him.
He was full of Indignation and Jealousie, (if it is
possible for a Person to be touch’d with that passion,
who is not capable of the other, which generally
occasions it) but however having taken
it into his Head to imagine I was better receiv’d
by Ansellina than he desir’d, Envy, and a
sort of Womanish Spleen, transported him so far
as to go to Ansellina’s Apartment, and rail
at me most profusely (as I have since been told)
and threaten how much he’d be reveng’d, if he hear’d G4v 48
hear’d I ever should have the assurance to visit
there again. Ansellina at first laugh’d at his
folly, but finding he persisted, and began to assume
more Liberty than she ever meant to afford
him; instead of listning to his Entreaties, to forbid
me the Privilege I had enjoy’d of her Conversation,
she pass’d that very Sentence on him, and
when next I waited of her, received me with more
respect than ever; and when at last I took the
boldness to acquaint her with my Passion, I had
the satisfaction to observe from the frankess of
her disposition that I was not indifferent to her;
nor indeed did she, even in publick affect any reservedness
more than the decencies of her Sex and
Quality requir’d; for after my pretensions to her
were commonly talk’d of, and those who were intimate
with her, wou’d railly her about me; she
pass’d it off with a Spirit of Gaity and good Humour
peculiar to her self, and ’bated nothing of
her usual freedom to me; she permitted me to read
to her, to Walk and Dance with her, and I had all
the Opportunities of endeavouring an encrease of
her esteem that I cou’d wish, which so incens’d
BellpiineBellpine, that he made no sruple of reviling
both Her and Me in all Companies whereever
he came; saying I was a little worthless Fellow,
who had nothing but my Sword to depend
upon; and that Ansellina having no hopes of
Marrying him, was glad to take up with the first
that ask’d her. These scandalous Reports on my
first hearing of ’em had assuredly been fatal to
one of us, if Ansellina had not commanded
me by all the Passion I profess’d, and by the
Friendship she freely acknowledg’d to have for
me) not to take any notice of ’em: I set too high
a value on the favours she allow’d me, to be capableble H1r 49
of Disobedience; and she was too nice a Judge
of the Punctillio’s of our Sexes Honour, not to
take this Sacrifice of so just a Resentment, as a
very great proof how much I submitted to her will,
and suffer’d not a Day to pass without giving me
some new mark how nearly (she was touch’d with it,
I was the most contented and happy Person in the
World, still hoping that in a little time, she having
no Relations that had power to contradict her Inclinations)
I should be able to obtain every thing
from her that an honourable Passion could require;
’till one Evening coming home pretty late from
her, my Servant gave me a Letter which he told
me was left for me by one of Bellpine’s Servants;
I presently suspected the Contents, and
found I was not mistaken; it was really a Challenge
to meet him the next Morning, and must
confess, tho’ I long’d for an Opportunity to chastize
his Insolence, was a little troubled how to
excuse my self to Anselline, but there was no
possibility of evading it, without rendring my self
unworthy of her, and hop’d that Circumstance
wou’d be sufficient to clear me to her. I will not
trouble you Brother with the particulars of our
Duel, since there was nothing material, but that
at the third pass (I know not whether I may call
it the effect of my good or evil Fortune) he receiv’d
my Sword a good depth in his Body, and fell
with all the Symptoms of a Dying-Man. I made
all possible hast to send a Surgeon to him. In my
way I met two Gentlemen, who it seems he had
made acquainted with his Design (probably with
an intention to be prevented). They ask’d me
what Success, and when I had inform’d ’em, advis’d
me to be gone from Amiens before the News
should reach the Ears of Bellpine’s Relations, H who H1v 50
who were not inconsiderable in that Place. I
made ’em those Retributions their Civilities deserv’d;
but how eminent soever the Danger appear’d
that threatned me, cou’d not think of leaving
Amiens, without having first seen Anselline.
I went to the Baronesses, and found my
Charmer at her Toylet, and either it was my
Fancy, or else she really did look more amiable
in that Undress than ever I had seen her, tho’
adorn’d with the utmost Illustrations. She seem’d
surpriz’d at seeing me so early, and with her
wonted good Humor asking me the reason of it,
put me into a mortal Agony how to answer her,
for I must assure you Brother, that the fears of
her Displeasure were a thousand times more dreadful
to me, than any other apprehensions; she repeated
the Question three or four times before I
had Courage to Reply, and I believe she was
pretty near guessing the Truth by my Silence,
and the disorder in my Countenance before I
spoke; and when I did, she receiv’d the account
of the whole Adventure with a vast deal of trouble,
but no anger; she knew too well what I ow’d
to my Reputation, and the Post his Majesty had
honour’d me with, to believe I cou’d, or ought to
dispence with submitting to the Reflections which
must have fallen on me, had I acted otherwise than
I did. Her Concern and Tears, which she had not
Power to contain at the thoughts of my Departure,
joyn’d with her earnest Conjurations to me
to be gone, let me more than ever into the secrets
of her Heart, and gave me a Pleasure as inconceiveable
as the necessity of parting did the contrary.
Nothing cou’d be more moving than our
taking leave, and when she tore her self half willing
and half unwilling from my Arms, had sent me H2r 51
me away inconsolable, if her Promises of coming
to Paris as soon as she could without being taken
notice of, and frequent writing to me in the mean
time, had not given me a Hope, tho’ a distant
one of Happiness. Thus Brother, have I given
you, in as few Words as I cou’d, a Recital of
every thing that has hapned to me of Consequence
since our Separation, in which I dare believe
you will find more to Pity than Condemn. ”

The afflicted Chevalier cou’d not conclude without
letting fall some Tears; which the Count perceiveing,
ran to him, and tenderly embracing him,
said all that cou’d be expected from a most affectionate
Friend to mitigate his Sorrows, nor suffered him
to remove from his Arms ’till he had accomplish’d
his Design; and then believing the hearing of the
Adventures of another, (especially one he was so
deeply interested in) wou’d be the surest means to
give a Truce to the more melancholy Reflections
on his own, related every thing that had befallen
him since his coming to Paris. The Letters he receiv’d
from a Lady Incognito, his little Gallantries
with Amena, and the accident that prsentedpresented to
his view, the unknown Lady in the Person of one
of the greatest Fortunes in all France. Nothing
cou’d be a greater Cordial to the Chevalier, than
to find his Brother was belov’d by the Sister of
Ansellina, he did not doubt but that by this
means there might be a possibility of seeing her
sooner than else he cou’d have hop’d, and the two
Brothers began to enter into a serious consultation
of this Affair, which ended with a Resolution
to fix their Fortunes there. The Count had
never yet seen a Beauty formidable enough to give
him an Hours uneasiness (purely for the sake of
Love) and would often say, Cupid’s Quiver never H2 held H2v 52
held an Arrow of force to reach his Heart; those
little Delicacies, those trembling aking Transports,
which every sight of the beloved Object occasions,
and so visibly distinguishes a real Passion
from a Counterfeit, he look’d on as the Chimera’s
of an idle Brain, form’d to inspire Notions
of an imaginary Bliss, and make Fools lose
themselves in seeking; or if they had a Being,
it was only in weak Souls, a kind of Disease
with which he assur’d himself he should never be infected.
Ambition was certainly the reigning Passion
in his Soul, and Alovisa’s Quality and vast Possessions,
promising a full Gratification of that, he
ne’er so much as wish’d to know, a farther Happiness
in Marriage.

But while the Count and Chevalier were thus Employ’d,
the Rival Ladies past the hours in a very
different Entertainment, the dispair and bitter
Lamentations that the unfortunate Amena made,
when she came out of her swooning, were such as
moved even Alovisa to Compassion, and if any
thing but resigning D’elmont cou’d have given
her Consolation, she wou’d willingly have apply’d
it. There was now no need of further Dissimulation,
and she confess’d to Amena, that she
had Lov’d the Charming Count with a kind of
Madness from the first Moment she beheld him:
That to favour her Designs on him, she had made
use of every Strategem she cou’d invent, that by
her means, the Amour was first discover’d to Monsieur
Sanseverin
, and his Family Alarm’d
the night before; and Lastly, that by her Persuasions,
he had resolv’d to send her to a Monastry,
to which she must prepare her self to go in a few
days without taking any leave even of her Father;
“have you” (cry’d Amena hastily interrupting her) have H3r 53
“have you prevail’d with my Father to send me
from this hated place, without the Punishment
of hearing his upbraidings?”
Which the other answering
in the Affirmative, “I thank you” resum’d
Amena, “that favour has Cancell’d all your
Score of Cruelty, for after the Follies I have been
guilty of, nothing is so dreadful as the sight of
him, and who, wou’d oh Heavens!”
(Continu’d she
bursting into a Flood of Tears) “wish to stay in a
World so full of falshood.”
She was able to utter
no more for some Moments, but at last, raising
her self on the Bed where she was laid, and
endeavouring to seem a little more Compos’d: “I
have two favours, Madam, yet to ask of you,”
(rejoin’d
she) “neither of ’em will I believe seem
difficult to you to grant, that you will make use
of the Power you have with my Father, to let
my departure be as sudden as possible, and that
while I am here, I may never see Count D’elmont.”

It was not likely that Alovisa shou’d deny Requests
so suitable to her own Inclinations, and
Believing with a great deal of Reason that her
presence was not very grateful, left her to the
Care of her Women, whom she order’d to attend
her with the same Diligence, as her self. It was
Evening before the Count came, and Alovisa
spent the remainder of the day in very uneasie
Reflections, she know not as yet, whether she
had cause to rejoice in, or blame her Fortune in
so unexpectedly discovering her Passion, and an
Incessant VirissitudeVicissitude of hope and fears, rack’d Her
with most intollerable Inquietude, ’till the darling
object of her wishes appear’d, and tho’
the first sight of him, added to her other Passions
that of shame, yet he manag’d his Address so
well, and so modestly and artfully hinted the knowledge H3v 54
knowledge of his happiness, that every Sentiment
gave place to a new Admiration of the Wonders
of his Wit, and if before she Lov’d, she now ador’d,
and began to think it a kind of Merit in
her self to be sensible of his. He soon put it in
her power to oblige him, by giving her the History
of his Brothers Passion for her Sister, and she
was not at all backward in assuring him how much
she approv’d of it, and that she wou’d write to
Ansellina by the first Post, to engage her
coming to Paris with all imaginable speed. In fine,
there was nothing she cou’d ask refus’d, and indeed
it wou’d have been rediculous for her to have
affected Coiness, after the Testimonies she had
long since given him of one of the most violent
Passions that ever was; this foreknowledge sav’d
abundance of Dissimulation on both sides, and she
took care that if he shou’d be wanting in his kind
Expressions after Marriage, he shou’d not have it
in his Power to pretend (as some Husbands have
done) that his Stock was exhausted in a tedious
Courtship. Every thing was presently agreed upon,
and the Wedding-Day appointed, which was
to be as soon as every thing cou’d be got ready to
make it Magnificent; tho’ the Counts good Nature
made him desirous to learn something of Amena,
yet he durst not enquire for fear of giving
an umbrage to his intended Bride, but she, imagining
the reason of his silence, very frankly told
him, how she was to be dispos’d of, this knowledge
made no small Addition to his Contentment,
for had she stay’d in Paris, he cou’d expect nothing
but continual Jealousies from Alovisa,
besides as he really wish’d her happy, tho’ he
cou’d not make her so, he thought Absence might
banish a hopeless Passion from her Heart, and time H4r 55
time and other objects Efface an Idea, which cou’d
not but be Distructive to her Peace. He stay’d at
Alovisa’s House ’till it was pretty late, and
perhaps they had not parted in some hours longer,
if his impatience to inform his Brother, his
success, had not carried him away. The young
Chevalier was Infinitely more Transported at the
bare hopes of being something nearer the aim of
all his wishes then D’elmont was at the assurance
of loseing his, and cou’d not forbear Rallying
him for placing the ultimate of his wishes
on such a Toy, as he Argu’d Woman was, which
the ChevalierChavalier endeavouring to Confute, there began
a very warm Dispute, in which neither of ’em being
able to convince the other, sleep at last, interpos’d
as Moderator. The next day they went to
gether to visit Alovisa, and from that time were
seldom asunder, but in Compassion to Amena,
they took what care they cou’d to Conceal the design
they had in Hand, and that unhappy Lady
was in a few days according to her Rivals Contrivance
hurried away without seeing any of her
Friends. When she was gone, and there was no further
need of keeping it a secret, the news of this
great Wedding was immediately spread over the
whole Town, and every one talk’d of it, as their
particular Interests or affections dictated. All D’elmonts
Friends were full of Joy, and he met no
Inconsiderable Augmentation of it himself, when
his Brother receiv’d a Letter from Ansellina,
with an Account that Bellpine’s Wound
was found not Dangerous, and that he was in a very
fair way of Recovery. And it was Concluded
that as soon as the Wedding was over, the young
Chevalier should go in Person to Amiens to fetch
his Belov’d Ansellina, in order for a second, and as H4v 56
as Desir’d Nuptial. There was no Gloom now
left to Cloud the Gaity of the happy Day, nothing
cou’d be more grand than the Celebration of it;
and Alovisa now thought her self at the end of
her Cares, but the Sequel of this Glorious beginning,
and what Effect the dispair and imprecations
of Amena (when she heard of it) produc’d, shall
with the Continuance of the Chevalier Brillian’s
Adventures be faithfully Related in the
next Part.

Finis.