Constantia, who us’d to open her Heart freely to Agnes, now believing she had deceiv’d her, abandon’d her self so absolutely to Grief, that she was ready to sink under it; she immediately fell sick with the violence of it, and all the Court was concern’d at this Misfortune: Don Pedro was truly afflicted at it, but Agnes more than all the World beside. Constantia’s Coldness towards her, made her continually sigh; and her Distemper created merely by fancy, caus’d her to reflect on every thing that offer’d it self to her Memory: so that at last she began even to fear her self, and to reproach her self for what the Princess suffer’d.
But the Distemper began to be such, that they fear’d Constantia’s Death, and she her self began to feel the Approaches of it. This Thought did not at all disquiet her: she look’d on Death as the only relief from all her Torments; and regarded the Despair of all that approach’d her without the least concern.
The King, who lov’d her tenderly, and who knew her Virtue, was infinitely mov’d at the Extremity she was in. And Don Alvaro, who lost not the least Occasion of making him understand that it was Jealousy which was the cause of Constantia’s Distemper, did but too much incense him against Criminals, worthy of Compassion. The King was not of a Temper to conceal his Anger long: ‘You give fine Examples, (said he to the Prince) and such as will render your Memory illustrious! The Death of Constantia (of which you are only to be accus’d) is the unhappy Fruit of your guilty Passion. Fear Heaven after this: and behold your self as a Monster that does not deserve to see the Light. If the Interest you have in my Blood did not plead for you, what ought you not to fear from my just Resentment? But what must not imprudent Agnes, to whom nothing ties me, expect from my hands? If Constantia dies, she, who has the Boldness, in my Court, to cherish a foolish Flame by vain Hopes, and make us lose the most amiable Princess, whom thou art not worthy to possess, shall feel the Effects of her Indiscretion.’
Don Pedro knew very well, that Constantia was not ignorant of his Sentiments for Agnes; but he knew also with what Moderation she receiv’d it: He was very sensible of the King’s Reproaches; but as his Fault was not voluntary, and that a commanding Power, a fatal Star, had forc’d him to love in spite of himself, he appear’d afflicted and confus’d: ‘You condemn me, Sir, (answer’d he) without having well examin’d me; and if my Intentions were known to you; perhaps you would not find me so criminal: I would take the Princess for my Judge, whom you say I sacrifice, if she were in a condition to be consulted. If I am guilty of any Weakness, her Justice never reproach’d me for it; and my Tongue never inform’d Agnes of it. But suppose I have committed any Fault, why would you punish an innocent Lady, who perhaps condemns me for it as much as you? Ah, Villain! (interrupted the King) she has but too much favour’d you: You would not have lov’d thus long, had she not made you some Returns. Sir, (reply’d the Prince, pierced with Grief for the Outrage that was committed against Agnes) you offend a Virtue, than which nothing can be purer; and those Expressions which break from your Choler, are not worthy of you. Agnes never granted me any Favours; I never asked any of her; and I protest to Heaven, I never thought of any thing contrary to the Duty I owe Constantia.’
As they thus argued, one of the Princess’s Women came all in Tears to acquaint Don Pedro, that the Princess was in the last Extremities of Life: ‘Go see thy fatal Work, (said the King) and expect from a too-long patient Father the Usage thou deservest.’
The Prince ran to Constantia, whom he found dying, and Agnes in a swoon, in the Arms of some of the Ladies. What caus’d this double Calamity, was, that Agnes, who could suffer no longer the Indifferency of the Princess, had conjur’d her to tell her what was her Crime, and either to take her Life from her, or restore her to her Friendship.
Constantia, who found she must die, could no longer keep her secret Affliction from Agnes; and after some Words, which were a Preparation to the sad Explanation, she shewed her that fatal Billet, which Elvira had caus’d to be written: ‘Ah, Madam! (cry’d out the fair Agnes, after having read it) Ah, Madam! how many cruel Inquietudes had you spared me had you open’d your Heart to me with your wonted Bounty! ’Tis easy to see that this Letter is counterfeit, and that I have Enemies without Compassion. Could you believe the Prince so imprudent, to make use of any other Hand but his own, on an occasion like this? And do you believe me so simple to keep about me this Testimony of my Shame, with so little Precaution? You are neither betray’d by your Husband nor me; I attest Heaven, and those Efforts I have made to leave Coimbra. Alas, my dear Princess, how little have you known her, whom you have so much honoured? Do not believe that when I have justify’d my self, I will have any more Communication with the World: No, no; there will be no Retreat far enough from hence for me. I will take care to hide this unlucky Face, where it shall be sure to do no more harm.’
The Princess touched at this Discourse, and the Tears of Agnes, press’d her hand, which she held in hers; and fixing Looks upon her capable of moving Pity in the most insensible Souls, ‘If I have committed any Offence, my dear Agnes, (answer’d she) Death, which I expect in a moment, shall revenge it. I ought also to protest to you, That I have not ceas’d loving you, and that I believe every thing you have said, giving you back my most tender Affections.’
’Twas at this time that the Grief, which equally oppress’d ’em, put the Princess into such an Extremity, that they sent for the Prince. He came, and found himself almost without Life or Motion at this sight. And what secret Motive soever might call him to the aid of Agnes, ’twas to Constantia he ran. The Princess, who finding her last Moments drawing on, by a cold Sweat that cover’d her all over; and finding she had no more business with Life, and causing those Persons she most suspected to retire, ‘Sir, (said she to Don Pedro) if I abandon Life without regret, it is not without Trouble that I part with you. But, Prince, we must vanquish when we come to die; and I will forget my self wholly, to think of nothing but of you. I have no Reproaches to make against you, knowing that ’tis Inclination that disposes Hearts, and not Reason. Agnes is beautiful enough to inspire the most ardent Passion, and virtuous enough to deserve the first Fortunes in the World. I ask her, once more, pardon for the Injustice I have done her, and recommend her to you, as a Person most dear to me. Promise me, my dear Prince, before I expire, to give her my Place in your Throne: it cannot be better fill’d: you cannot chuse a Princess more perfect for your People, nor a better Mother for our little Children. And you my dear and faithful Agnes (pursu’d she) listen not to a Virtue too scrupulous, that may make any opposition to the Prince of Portugal: Refuse him not a Heart of which he is worthy; and give him that Friendship which you had for me, with that which is due to his Merit. Take care of my little Fernando, and the two young Princesses: let them find me in you, and speak to them sometimes of me. Adieu, live both of you happy, and receive my last Embraces.’
The afflicted Agnes, who had recover’d a little her Forces, lost them again a second time; Her Weakness was follow’d with Convulsions so vehement, that they were afraid of her Life; but Don Pedro never removed from Constantia: ‘What, Madam (said he) you will leave me then; and you think ’tis for my Good. Alas, Constantia! if my Heart has committed an Outrage against you, your Virtue has sufficiently revenged you on me in spite of you. Can you think me so barbarous?’—As he was going on, he saw Death shut the Eyes of the most generous Princess for ever; and he was within a very little of following her.