Elvira regarded neither Exactness nor Grace in these Lines: And if they had but the effect she design’d, she wished no more.
Her Impatience could not wait till the next day to expose them: she therefore went immediately to the Lodgings of the Princess, who was then walking in the Garden of the Palace; and passing without resistance, even to her Cabinet, she put the Paper into a Book, in which the Princess used to read, and went out again unseen, and satisfy’d with her good Fortune.
As soon as Constantia was return’d, she enter’d into her Cabinet, and saw the Book open, and the Verses lying in it, which were to cost her so dear: She soon knew the Hand of the Prince which was so familiar to her; and besides the Information of what she had always fear’d, she understood it was Agnes de Castro (whose Friendship alone was able to comfort her in her Misfortunes) who was the fatal Cause of it: she read over the Paper an hundred times, desiring to give her Eyes and Reason the Lye; but finding but too plainly she was not deceiv’d, she found her Soul possest with more Grief than Anger: when she consider’d, as much in love as the Prince was, he had kept his Torment secret. After having made her moan, without condemning him, the Tenderness she had for him, made her shed a Torrent of Tears, and inspir’d her with a Resolution of concealing her Resentment.
She would certainly have done it by a Virtue extraordinary, if the Prince, who missing his Verses when he waked, and fearing they might fall into indiscreet Hands, had not enter’d the Palace, all troubled with his Loss; and hastily going into Constantia’s Apartment, saw her fair Eyes all wet with Tears, and at the same instant cast his own on the unhappy Verses that had escaped from his Soul, and now lay before the Princess.
He immediately turned pale at this sight, and appear’d so mov’d, that the generous Princess felt more Pain than he did: ‘Madam, said he, (infinitely alarm’d) from whom had you that Paper? It cannot come but from the Hand of some Person, answer’d Constantia, who is an Enemy both to your Repose and mine. It is the Work, Sir, of your own Hand; and doubtless the Sentiment of your Heart. But be not surprized, and do not fear; for if my Tenderness should make it pass for a Crime in you, the same Tenderness which nothing is able to alter, shall hinder me from complaining.’
The Moderation and Calmness of Constantia, served only to render the Prince more asham’d and confus’d. How generous are you, Madam, (pursu’d he) and how unfortunate am I! Some Tears accompany’d his Words, and the Princess, who lov’d him with extreme Ardour, was so sensibly touch’d, that it was a good while before she could utter a word. Constantia then broke silence, and shewing him what Elvira had caus’d to be written: You are betray’d, Sir, (added she) you have been heard speak, and your Secret is known. It was at this very moment that all the Forces of the Prince abandon’d him; and his Condition was really worthy Compassion: He could not pardon himself the involuntary Crime he had committed, in exposing of the lovely and the innocent Agnes. And tho’ he was convinced of the Virtue and Goodness of Constantia, the Apprehensions that he had, that this modest and prudent Maid might suffer by his Conduct, carry’d him beyond all Consideration.
The Princess, who heedfully survey’d him, saw so many Marks of Despair in his Face and Eyes, that she was afraid of the Consequences; and holding out her Hand, in a very obliging manner to him, she said, ‘I promise you, Sir, I will never more complain of you, and that Agnes shall always be very dear to me; you shall never hear me make you any Reproaches: And since I cannot possess your Heart, I will content myself with endeavouring to render myself worthy of it.’ Don Pedro, more confus’d and dejected than before he had been, bent one of his Knees at the feet of Constantia, and with respect kiss’d that fair kind Hand she had given him, and perhaps forgot Agnes for a moment.
But Love soon put a stop to all the little Advances of Hymen; the fatal Star that presided over the Destiny of Don Pedro had not yet vented its Malignity; and one moment’s sight of Agnes gave new Force to his Passion.
The Wishes and Desires of this charming Maid had no part in this Victory; her Eyes were just, tho’ penetrating, and they searched not in those of the Prince, what they had a desire to discover to her.
As she was never far from Constantia, Don Pedro was no sooner gone out of the Closet, but Agnes enter’d; and finding the Princess all pale and languishing in her Chair, she doubted not but there was some sufficient Cause for her Affliction: she put herself in the same Posture the Prince had been in before, and expressing an Inquietude, full of Concern; ‘Madam, said she, by all your Goodness, conceal not from me the Cause of your Trouble. Alas, Agnes, reply’d the Princess, what would you know? And what should I tell you? The Prince, the Prince, my dearest Maid, is in love; the Hand that he gave me, was not a Present of his Heart; and for the Advantage of this Alliance, I must become the Victim of it—What! the Prince in Love! (reply’d Agnes, with an Astonishment mix’d with Indignation) What Beauty can dispute the Empire over a Heart so much your due? Alas, Madam, all the Respect I owe him, cannot hinder me from murmuring against him. Accuse him of nothing, (interrupted Constantia) he does what he can; and I am more oblig’d to him for desiring to be faithful, than if I possest his real Tenderness. It is not enough to fight, but to overcome; and the Prince does more in the Condition wherein he is, than I ought reasonably to hope for: In fine, he is my Husband, and an agreeable one; to whom nothing is wanting, but what I cannot inspire; that is, a Passion which would have made me but too happy. Ah! Madam, (cry’d out Agnes, transported with her Tenderness for the Princess) he is a blind and stupid Prince, who knows not the precious Advantages he possesses. He must surely know something, (reply’d the Princess modestly.) But, Madam, (reply’d Agnes) Is there any thing, not only in Portugal, but in all Spain, that can compare with you? And without considering the charming Qualities of your Person, can we enough admire those of your Soul? My dear Agnes, (interrupted Constantia, sighing) she who robs me of my Husband’s Heart, has but too many Charms to plead his Excuse; since it is thou, Child, whom Fortune makes use of, to give me the killing Blow. Yes, Agnes, the Prince loves thee; and the Merit I know thou art possest of, puts bounds to my Complaints, without suffering me to have the least Resentment.’