Philander, while he was undressing, being alone with Brilliard, began to discourse of Sylvia, and to take some care of letting her know, he was arrived at Brussels; and for her convoy thither. Brilliard, who even yet retained some unaccountable hope, as lovers do, of one day being happy with that fair one; and believing he could not be so, with so much felicity, while she was in the hands of Octavio as those of Philander, would never tell his lord his sentiments of her conduct, nor of her love to Octavio, and those other passages that had occurred in Holland: he only cried, he believed she might be overcome, being left to herself and by the merits and good fashion of Octavio; but would not give his master an absolute fear, or any account of truth, that he might live with her again, if possible, as before; and that she might hold herself so obliged to him for silence in these affairs, as might one day render him happy. These were the unweighed reasons he gave for deluding his lord into a kind opinion to the fickle maid: but ever when he named Sylvia, Philander could perceive his blushes rise, and from them believed there was something behind in his thought, which he had a mind to know: he therefore pressed him to the last degree,--and cried--'Come-- confess to me, Brilliard, the reason of your blushes: I know you are a lover, and I was content to suffer you my rival, knowing your respect to me.' This, though he spoke smiling, raised a greater confusion in Brilliard's heart. 'I own, my lord,' said he, 'that I have, in spite of that respect, and all the force of my soul, had the daring to love her whom you loved; but still the consideration of my obligations to your lordship surmounted that saucy flame, notwithstanding all the encouragement of your inconstancy, and the advantage of the rage it put Sylvia in against you.' 'How,' cried Philander, 'does Sylvia know then of my falseness, and is it certain that Octavio has betrayed me to her?' With that Brilliard was forced to advance, and with a design of some revenge upon Octavio, (who, he hoped, would be challenged by his lord, where one, or both might fall in the rencounter, and leave him master of his hopes) he told him all that had passed between them, all but real possession, which he only imagined, but laid the whole weight on Octavio, making Sylvia act but as an incensed woman, purely out of high revenge and resentment of so great an injury as was done her love. He farther told him, how, in the extravagancy of her rage, she had resolved to marry Octavio, and how he prevented it by making a public declaration she was his wife already; and for which Octavio procured the States to put him in prison; but by an accident that happened to the uncle of Octavio, for which he was forced to fly, the States released him, when he came to his lord: 'How,' cried Philander, 'and is the traitor Octavio fled from Holland, and from the reach of my chastisement?' 'Yes,' replied Brilliard; 'and not to hold you longer from the truth, has forced Sylvia away with him.' At this Philander grew into a violent rage, sometimes against Octavio for his treasons against friendship; sometimes he felt the old flame revive, raised and blown jealousy, and was raving to imagine any other should possess the lovely Sylvia. He now beholds her with all those charms that first fired him, and thinks, if she be criminal, it was only the effects of the greatest love, which always hurries women on to the highest revenges. In vain he seeks to extinguish his returning flame by the thought of Calista; yet, at that thought, he starts like one awakened from a dream of honour, to fall asleep again, and dream of love. Before it was rage and pride, but now it was tenderness and grief, softer passions, and more insupportable. New wounds smart most, but old ones are most dangerous. While he was thus raging, walking, pausing, and loving, one knocked at his chamber-door. It was Sylvia's page, who had waited all the evening to speak to him, and could not till now be admitted. Brilliard was just going to tell him he was there before, when he arrived now again: Philander was all unbuttoned, his stockings down, and his hair under his cap, when the page, being let in by Brilliard, ran to his lord, who knew him and embraced him: and it was a pretty while they thus caressed each other, without the power of speaking; he of asking a question, and the boy of delivering his message; at last, he gave him Sylvia's billet, which was thus--
To PHILANDER.
False and perjured as you are, I languish for a sight of you, and conjure you to give it me, as soon as this comes to your hands. Imagine not, that I have prepared those instruments of revenge that are so justly due to your perfidy; but rather, that I have yet too tender sentiments for you, in spite of the outrage you have done my heart; and that for all the ruin you have made, I still adore you: and though I know you now another's slave, yet I beg you would vouchsafe to behold the spoils you have made, and allow me this recompense for all, to say--Here was the beauty I once esteemed, though now she is no more Philander's
SYLVIA.
'How,' cried he out, 'No more Philander's Sylvia! By heaven, I had rather be no more Philander!' And at that word, without considering whether he were in order for a visit or not, he advancing his joyful voice, cried out to the page, 'Lead on, my faithful boy, lead on to Sylvia.' In vain Brilliard beseeches him to put himself into a better equipage; in vain he urges to him, the indecency of making a visit in that posture; he thought of nothing but Sylvia; however he ran after him with his hat, cloak, and comb, and as he was in the chair dressed his hair, and suffered the page to conduct him where he pleased: which being to Sylvia's, lodgings, he ran up stairs, and into her chamber, as by instinct of love, and found her laid on her bed, to which he made but one step from the door; and catching her in his arms, as he kneeled upon the carpet, they both remained unable to utter any thing but sighs: and surely Sylvia never appeared more charming; she had for a month or two lived at her ease, and had besides all the advantage of fine dressing which she had purposely put on, in the most tempting fashion, on purpose to engage him, or rather to make him see how fine a creature his perfidy had lost him: she first broke silence, and with a thousand violent reproaches, seemed as if she would fain break from those arms, which she wished might be too strong for her force; while he endeavours to appease her as lovers do, protesting a thousand times that there was nothing in that history of his amour with Calista, but revenge on Octavio, who he knew was making an interest in her heart, contrary to all the laws of honour and friendship, (for he had learned, by the reproaches of the Lady Abbess, that Calista was sister to Octavio). 'He has had the daring to confess to me his passion,' said he, 'for you, and could I do less in revenge, than to tell him I had one for his sister? I knew by the violent reproaches I ever met with in your letters, though they were not plainly confessed, that he had played me foul, and discovered my feigned intrigue to you; and even this I suffered, to see how far you could be prevailed with against me. I knew Octavio had charms of youth and wit, and that you had too much the ascendant over him, to be denied any secret you had a mind to draw from him; I knew your nature too curious, and your love too inquisitive, not to press him to a sight of my letters, which seen must incense you; and this trial I designedly made of your faith, and as a return to Octavio.' Thus he flatters, and she believes, because she has a mind to believe; and thus by degrees he softens the listening Sylvia; swears his faith with sighs, and confirms it with his tears, which bedewed her fair bosom, as they fell from his bright dissembling eyes; and yet so well he dissembled, that he scarce knew himself that he did so: and such effects it wrought on Sylvia, that in spite of all her honour and vows engaged to Octavio, and horrid protestations never to receive again the fugitive to her arms, she suffers all he asks, gives herself up again to love, and is a second time undone. She regards him as one to whom she had a peculiar right as the first lover: she was married to his love, to his heart; and Octavio appeared the intruding gallant, that would, and ought to be content with the gleanings of the harvest, Philander should give him the opportunity to take up: and though, if she had at this very time been put to her sober choice, which she would have abandoned, it would have been Philander, as not in so good circumstances at that time to gratify all her extravagances of expense; but she would not endure to think of losing either: she was for two reasons covetous of both, and swore fidelity to both, protesting each the only man; and she was now contriving in her thoughts, how to play the jilt most artificially; a help-meet, though natural enough to her sex, she had not yet much essayed, and never to this purpose: she knew well she should have need of all her cunning in this affair; for she had to do with men of quality and honour, and too much wit to be grossly imposed upon. She knew Octavio loved so well, it would either make her lose him by death, or resenting pride, if she should ever be discovered to him to be untrue; and she knew she should lose Philander to some new mistress, if he once perceived her false. He asked her a thousand questions concerning Octavio, and she seemed to lavish every secret of her soul to her lover; but like a right woman, so ordered her discourse, as all that made for her advantage she declared, and all the rest she concealed. She told him, that those hopes which her revenge had made her give Octavio, had obliged him to present her with such and such fine jewels, such plate, such sums; and in fine, made him understand that all her trophies from the believing lover should be laid at his feet, who had conquered her heart: and that now, having enriched herself, she would abandon him wholly to despair. This did not so well satisfy Philander, but that he needed some greater proofs of her fidelity, fearing all these rich presents were not for a little hope alone; and she failed not giving what protestations he desired.
Thus the night passed away, and in the morning, she knowing he was not very well furnished with money, gave him the key of her cabinet, where she bid him furnish himself with all he wanted; which he did, and left her, to go take orders about his horses, and other affairs, not so absolutely satisfied of her virtue, but he feared himself put upon, which the advantage he was likely to reap by the deceit, made him less consider, than he would perhaps otherwise have done. He had all the night a full possession of Sylvia, and found in the morning he was not so violently concerned as he was over night: it was but a repetition of what he had been feasted with before; it was no new treat, but, like matrimony, went dully down: and now he found his heart warm a little more for Calista, with which little impatience he left Sylvia.
That morning a lady having sent to Octavio, to give her an assignation in the park; though he were not curious after beauty, yet believing there might be something more in it than merely a lady, he dressed himself and went, which was the reason he made not his visit that morning, as he used to do, to Sylvia, and so was yet ignorant of her ingratitude; while she, on the other side, finding herself more possessed with vanity than love; for having gained her end, as she imagined, and a second victory over his heart, in spite of all Calista's charms, she did not so much consider him as before; nor was he so dear to her as she fancied he would have been, before she believed it possible to get him any more to her arms; and she found it was pride and revenge to Calista, that made her so fond of endearing him, and that she should thereby triumph over that haughty rival, who pretended to be so sure of the heart of her hero: and having satisfied her ambition in that point, she was more pleased than she imagined she should be, and could now turn her thoughts again to Octavio, whose charms, whose endearments, and lavish obligations, came anew to her memory, and made him appear the most agreeable to her genius and humour, which now leaned to interest more than love; and now she fancies she found Philander duller in her arms than Octavio; that he tasted of Calista, while Octavio was all her own entirely, adoring and ever presenting; two excellencies, of which Philander now had but part of one. She found Philander now in a condition to be ever taking from her, while Octavio's was still to be giving; which was a great weight in the scale of love, when a fair woman guides the balance: and now she begins to distrust all that Philander had said of his innocence, from what she now remembers she heard from Calista herself, and reproaches her own weakness for believing: while her penitent thoughts were thus wandering in favour of Octavio, that lover arrived, and approached her with all the joy in his soul and eyes that either could express. 'It is now, my fair charmer,' said he, 'that I am come to offer you what alone can make me more worthy of you----' And pulling from his pocket the writings and inventories of all his own and his uncle's estate--'See here,' said he, 'what those mighty powers that favour love have done for Sylvia. It is not,' continued he, 'the trifle of a million of money, (which these amount to) that has pleased me, but because I am now able to lay it without control at your feet.' If she were before inclined to receive him well, what was she now, when a million of money rendered him so charming? She embraced his neck with her snowy arms, laid her cheeks to his ravished face, and kissed him a thousand welcomes; so well she knew how to make herself mistress of all this vast fortune. And I suppose he never appeared so fine, as at this moment. While she thus caressed him, he could not forbear sighing, as if there were yet something behind to complete his happiness: for though Octavio were extremely blinded with love, he had abundance of wit, and a great many doubts, (which were augmented by the arrival of Philander) and he was, too wise and too haughty, to be imposed upon, at least as he believed: and yet he had so very good an opinion of Sylvia's honour and vows, which she had engaged to him, that he durst hardly name his fears, when by his sighs she found them: and willing to leave no obstacle unremoved, that might hinder her possessing this fortune, she told him; 'My dear Octavio--I am sensible these sighs proceed from some fears you have of Philander's being in Brussels, and consequently that I will see him, as heretofore; but be assured, that that false man shall no more dare to pretend to me; but, on the contrary, I will behold him as my mortal enemy, the murderer of my fame and innocence, and as the most ungrateful and perfidious man that ever lived.' This she confirmed with oaths and tears, and a thousand endearing expressions. So that establishing his heart in a perfect tranquillity, and he leaving his writings and accounts with her, he told her he was obliged to dine with the advocates, who had acted for him in Holland, and could not stay to dine with her.
You must know, that as soon as the noise of old Sebastian, Octavio's uncle's death was noised about, and that he was thereupon fled, they seized all the estates, both that of the uncle, and that of Octavio, as belonging to him by right of law; but looking upon him as his uncle's murderer, they were forfeited to the States. This part of ill news Octavio kept from Sylvia, but took order, that such a process might be begun in his name with the States that might retrieve it; and sent word, if it could not be carried on by attornies (for he was not, he said, in health) that nevertheless he would come into Holland himself. But they being not able to prove, by the witness of any of Octavio's or Sebastian's servants, that Octavio had any hand in his death; but, on the contrary all circumstances, and the coroner's verdict, brought it in as a thing done by accident, and through his own fault, they were obliged to release to Octavio all his fortune, with that of his uncle, which was this day brought to him, by those he was obliged to dine, and make up some accounts withal: he therefore told her, he feared he should be absent all that afternoon; which she was the more pleased at, because if Philander should return before she had ordered the method of their visit, so as not to meet with each other (which was her only contrivance now) she should be sure he would not see or be seen by Octavio; who had no sooner taken his leave, but Philander returns; who being now fully bent upon some adventure to see Calista, if possible, and which intrigue would take up his whole time; to excuse his absence to the jealous Sylvia, he feigned that he was sent to by Cesario, to meet him upon the frontiers of France, and conduct him into Flanders, and that he should be absent some days. This was as Sylvia could have wished; and after forcing herself to take as kind a leave of him as she could, whose head was wholly possessed with a million of gold, she sent him away, both parties being very well pleased with the artifices with which they jilted each other. At Philander's, going into his chair, he was seen by the old Count of Clarinau, who, cured perfectly of his wound, was come thither to seek Philander, in order to take the revenge of a man of honour, as he called it; which in Spanish is the private stab, for private injuries; and indeed more reasonable than base French duelling, where the injured is as likely to suffer as the injurer: but Clarinau durst not attack him by day-light in the open street, nor durst he indeed appear in his own figure in the King of Spain's dominions, standing already there convicted of the murder of his first wife; but in a disguise came to Brussels. The chair with Philander was no sooner gone from the lodgings, but he inquired of some of the house, who lodged there that that gentleman came to visit? And they told him a great-bellied woman, who was a woman of quality, and a stranger: this was sufficient, you may believe, for him to think it Madam the Countess of Clarinau. With this assurance he repairs to his lodging, which was but hard by, and sets a footman that attended him to watch the return of Philander to those lodgings, which he believed would not be long: the footman, who had not seen Philander, only asked a description of him; he told him, he was a pretty tall man, in black clothes (for the Court was then in mourning) with long black hair, fine black eyes, very handsome, and well made; this was enough for the lad; he thought he should know him from a thousand by these marks and tokens. Away goes the footman, and waited till the shutting in of the evening, and then, running to his lord, told him, that Philander was come to those lodgings; that he saw him alight out of the chair, and took perfect notice of him; that he was sure it was that Philander he looked for: Clarinau, overjoyed that his revenge was at hand, took his dagger, sword and pistol, and hasted to Sylvia's lodgings, where he found the chair still waiting, and the doors all open; he made no more ado, but goes in and ascends the stairs, and passes on, without opposition, to the very chamber where they sat, Sylvia in the arms of her lover, not Philander, but Octavio, who being also in black, tall, long, brown hair, and handsome, and by a sight that might very well deceive; he made no more to do, not doubting but it was Philander and Calista, but steps to him, and offering to stab him, was prevented by his starting at the suddenness of his approach; however, the dagger did not absolutely miss him, but wounded him in the left arm; but Octavio's youth, too nimble for Clarinau's age, snatching at the dagger as it wounded him, at once prevented the hurt being much, and returned a home blow at Clarinau, so that he fell at Sylvia's feet, whose shrieks alarmed the house to their aid, where they found by the light of the candle that was brought, that the man was not dead, but lay gazing on Octavio, who said to him, 'Tell me, thou unfortunate wretch, what miserable fate brought thee to this place, to disturb the repose of those who neither know thee, nor had done thee injury?' 'Ah, sir,' replied Clarinau, 'you have reason for what you say, and I ask heaven, that unknown lady, and yourself, a thousand pardons for my mistake and crime: too late I see my error, pity and forgive me; and let me have a priest, for I believe I am a dead man.' Octavio was extremely moved with compassion at these words, and immediately sent his page, who was alarmed up in the crowd, for a Father and a surgeon; and he declared before the rest, that he forgave that stranger, meaning Octavio, since he had, by a mistake of his footman, pulled on his own death, and had deserved it: and thereupon, as well as he could, he told them for whom he had mistaken Octavio, who, having injured his honour, he had vowed revenge upon; and that he took the fair lady, meaning Sylvia, for a faithless wife of his, who had been the authoress of all this. Octavio soon divined this to be his brother-in-law, Clarinau, whom yet he had never seen; and stooping down to him, he cried, 'It is I, sir, that ought to demand a thousand pardons of you, for letting the revenge of Calista's honour alone so long.' Clarinau wondered who he should be that named Calista, and asking him his name, he told him he was the unhappy brother to that fair wanton, whose story was but too well known to him. Thus while Clarinau viewing his face, found him the very picture of that false charmer; while Octavio went on and assured him, if it were his unhappiness to die, that he would revenge the honour of him and his sister, on the betrayer of both. By this time the surgeon came who found not his wound to be mortal, as was feared, and ventured to remove him to his own lodgings, whither Octavio would accompany him; and leaving Sylvia inclined, after her fright, to be reposed, he took his leave of her for that evening, not daring, out of respect to her, to visit her any more that night: he was no sooner gone, but Philander, who never used to go without two very good pocket-pistols about him, having left them under his pillow last night at Sylvia's lodgings; and being upon love-adventures, he knew not what occasion he might have for them, returned back to her lodgings: when he came, she was a little surprised at first to see him, but after reflecting on what revenge was threatened him, she exposed Octavio's secret to him, and told him the whole adventure, and how she had got his writings, which would be all her own, if she might be suffered to manage the fond believer. But he, whose thought ran on the revenge was threatened him, cried out--'He has kindly awakened me to my duty by what he threatens; it is I that ought to be revenged on his perfidy, of shewing you my letters; and to that end, by heaven, I will defer all the business in the world to meet him, and pay his courtesy--If I had enjoyed his sister, he might suppose I knew her not to be so; and what man of wit or youth, would refuse a lovely woman, that presents a heart laden with love, and a person all over charms, to his bosom? I were to be esteemed unworthy the friendship of a man of honour, if I should: but he has basely betrayed me every way, makes love to my celebrated mistress, whom he knows I love, and getting secrets, unravels them to make his court and his access the easier.'
She foresaw the dangerous consequence of a quarrel of this nature, and had no sooner blown the fire, (which she did, to the end that Philander should avoid her lodgings, and all places where he might meet Octavio) but she hinders all her designs; and fixing him there, he was resolved to expect him at the first place he thought most likely to find him in: she endeavoured, by a thousand entreaties, to get him gone, urging it all for his safety; but that made him the more resolved; and all she could do, could not hinder him from staying supper, and after that, from going to bed: so that she was forced to hide a thousand terrors and fears by feigned caresses, the sooner to get him to meet Cesario in the morning, as he said he was to do; and though she could not help flattering both, while by; yet she ever loved the absent best; and now repented a thousand times that she had told him any thing.
Early the next morning, as was his custom, Octavio came to inquire of Sylvia's health; and though he had oftentimes only inquired and no more, (taking excuse of ill nights, or commands that none should come to her till she called) and had departed satisfied, and came again: yet now, when he went into Antonet's chamber, he found she was in a great consternation, and her looks and flattering excuses made him know, there was more than usual in his being to-day denied; he therefore pressed it the more, and she grew to greater confusion by his pressing her. At last he demanded the key of her lady's chamber, he having, he said, business of great importance to communicate to her; she told him she had as great reason not to deliver it,--'That is,' said she, (fearing she had said too much) 'my lady's commands'; and finding no persuasion would prevail, and rather venturing Sylvia's eternal displeasure, than not to be satisfied in the jealousies she had raised; especially reflecting on Philander's being in town, he took Antonet in his arms, and forced the key from her; who was willing to be forced; for she admired Octavio's bounty, and cared not for Philander. Octavio being master of the key, flies to Sylvia's door like lightning, or a jealous lover, mad to discover what seen would kill him: he opens the chamber-door, and goes softly to the bed-side, as if he now feared to find what he sought, and wished to heaven he might be mistaken; he opened the curtains, and found Sylvia sleeping with Philander in her arms. I need make no description of his confusion and surprise; the character I have given of that gallant honest, generous lover, is sufficient to make you imagine his heart, when indeed he could believe his eyes: before he thought--he was about to draw his sword, and run them both through, and revenge at once his injured honour, his love, and that of his sister; but that little reason he had left checked that barbarity, and he was readier, from his own natural sweetness of disposition, to run himself upon his own sword: and there the Christian pleaded----and yet found his heart breaking, his whole body trembling, his mind all agony, his cheeks cold and pale, his eyes languishing, his tongue refusing to give utterance to his pressure, and his legs to support his body; and much ado he had to reel into Antonet's, chamber, where he found the maid dying with grief for her concern for him. He was no sooner got to her bed-side, but he fell dead upon it; while she, who was afraid to alarm her lady and Philander, lest Octavio, being found there, had accused her with betraying them; but shutting the door close, (for yet no body had seen him but herself) she endeavoured all she could to bring him to life again, and it was a great while before she could do so: as soon as he was recovered, he lay a good while without speaking, reflecting on his fate; but after appearing as if he had assumed all his manly spirits together, he rose up, and conjured Antonet to say nothing of what had happened, and that she should not repent the service she would do him by it. Antonet, who was his absolute, devoted slave, promised him all he desired; and he had the courage to go once again, to confirm himself in the lewdness of this undone fair one, whose perjuries had rendered her even odious now to him, and he beheld her with scorn and disdain: and that she might know how indifferently he did so, (when she should come to know it) he took Philander's sword that lay on her toilet, and left his own in the place, and went out pleased; at least in this, that he had commanded his passion in the midst of the most powerful occasion for madness and revenge that ever was.