Antonio was all Rapture with the Thoughts of the approaching Day; which tho’ it brought Don Henrique and his dear Ardelia to him, about five o’Clock in the Evening, yet at the same Time brought his last and greatest Misfortune. He saw her then at a She Relation’s of his, above three Miles from Seville, which was the Place assigned for their fatal Interview. He saw her, I say; but ah! how strange! how altered from the dear, kind Ardelia she was when last he left her! ’Tis true, he flew to her with Arms expanded, and with so swift and eager a Motion, that she could not avoid, nor get loose from his Embrace, till he had kissed, and sighed, and dropt some Tears, which all the Strength of his Mind could not restrain; whether they were the Effects of Joy, or whether (which rather may be feared) they were the Heat-drops which preceded and threaten’d the Thunder and Tempest that should fall on his Head, I cannot positively say; yet all this she was then forced to endure, e’er she had Liberty to speak, or indeed to breathe. But as soon as she had freed herself from the loving Circle that should have been the dear and lov’d Confinement or Centre of a Faithful Heart, she began to dart whole Showers of Tortures on him from her Eyes; which that Mouth that he had just before so tenderly and sacredly kiss’d, seconded with whole Volleys of Deaths crammed in every Sentence, pointed with the keenest Affliction that ever pierc’d a Soul. Antonio, (she began) you have treated me now as if you were never like to see me more: and would to Heaven you were not!—Ha! (cry’d he, starting and staring wildly on her;) What said you, Madam? What said you, my Ardelia? If you like the Repetition, take it? (reply’d she, unmoved) Would to Heaven you were never like to see me more! Good! very Good! (cry’d he, with a Sigh that threw him trembling into a Chair behind him, and gave her the Opportunity of proceeding thus:)—Yet, Antonio, I must not have my Wish; I must continue with you, not out of Choice, but by Command, by the strictest and severest Obligation that ever bound Humanity; Don Henrique, your Friend, commands it; Don Henrique, the dearest Object of my Soul, enjoins it; Don Henrique, whose only Aversion I am, will have it so. Oh, do not wrong me, Madam! (cry’d Don Henrique.) Lead me, lead me a little more by the Light of your Discourse, I beseech you (said Don Antonio) that I may see your Meaning! for hitherto ’tis Darkness all to me. Attend therefore with your best Faculties (pursu’d Ardelia) and know, That I do most sincerely and most passionately love Don Henrique; and as a Proof of my Love to him, I have this Day consented to be delivered up to you by him; not for your Sake in the least, Antonio, but purely to sacrifice all the Quiet of my Life to his Satisfaction. And now, Sir (continued she, addressing her self to Don Henrique) now, Sir, if you can be so cruel, execute your own most dreadful Decree, and join our Hands, though our Hearts never can meet. All this to try me! It’s too much, Ardelia—(said Antonio:) And then turning to Don Henrique, he went on, Speak thou! if yet thou art not Apostate to our Friendship! Yet speak, however! Speak, though the Devil has been tampering with thee too! Thou art a Man, a Man of Honour once. And when I forfeit my just Title to that (interrupted Don Henrique) may I be made most miserable!—May I lose the Blessings of thy Friendship!—May I lose thee!—Say on then, Henrique! (cry’d Antonio:) And I charge thee, by all the sacred Ties of Friendship, say, Is this a Trial of me? Is’t Illusion, Sport, or shameful murderous Truth?—Oh, my Soul burns within me, and I can bear no longer!—Tell! Speak! Say on!—[Here, with folded Arms, and Eyes fixed stedfastly on Henrique, he stood like a Statue, without Motion; unless sometimes, when his swelling Heart raised his over-charged Breast.] After a little Pause, and a hearty Sigh or two, Henrique began;—Oh, Antonio! Oh my Friend! prepare thy self to hear yet more dreadful Accents!—I am (pursu’d he) unhappily the greatest and most innocent Criminal that e’er till now offended:—I love her, Antonio,—I love Ardelia with a Passion strong and violent as thine!—Oh! summon all that us’d to be more than Man about thee, to suffer to the End of my Discourse, which nothing but a Resolution like thine can bear! I know it by myself.—Tho’ there be Wounds, Horror, and Death in each Syllable (interrupted Antonio) yet prithee now go on, but with all Haste. I will, (returned Don Henrique) tho’ I feel my own Words have the same cruel Effects on me. I say, again, my Soul loves Ardelia: And how can it be otherwise? Have we not both the self-same Appetites, the same Disgusts? How then could I avoid my Destiny, that has decreed that I should love and hate just as you do? Oh, hard Necessity! that obliged you to use me in the Recovery of this Lady! Alas, can you think that any Man of Sense or Passion could have seen, and not have lov’d her! Then how should I, whose Thoughts are Unisons to yours, evade those Charms that had prevail’d on you?—And now, to let you know, ’tis no Illusion, no Sport, but serious and amazing woeful Truth, Ardelia best can tell you whom she loves. What I have already said, is true, by Heaven (cry’d she) ’tis you, Don Henrique, whom I only love, and who alone can give me Happiness: Ah, would you would!—With you, Antonio, I must remain unhappy, wretched, cursed: Thou art my Hell; Don Henrique is my Heaven. And thou art mine, (returned he) which here I part with to my dearest Friend. Then taking her Hand, Pardon me, Antonio, (pursued he) that I thus take my last Farewel of all the Tastes of Bliss from your Ardelia, at this Moment. [At which Words he kiss’d her Hand, and gave it to Don Antonio; who received it, and gently pressed it close to his Heart, as if he would have her feel the Disorders she had caus’d there.] Be happy, Antonio, (cry’d Henrique:) Be very tender of her; To-morrow early I shall hope to see thee.—Ardelia (pursued he) All Happiness and Joy surround thee! May’st thou ne’er want those Blessings thou can’st give Antonio!—Farewel to both! (added he, going out.) Ah (cry’d she) Farewel to all Joys, Blessings, Happiness, if you forsake me.—Yet do not go!—Ah, cruel! (continu’d she, seeing him quit the Room) but you shall take my Soul with you. Here she swooned away in Don Antonio’s Arms; who, though he was happy that he had her fast there, yet was obliged to call in his Cousin, and Ardelia’s Attendants, e’er she could be perfectly recovered. In the mean while Don Henrique had not the Power to go out of Sight of the House, but wandred to and fro about it, distracted in his Soul; and not being able longer to refrain her Sight, her last Words still resounding in his Ears, he came again into the Room where he left her with Don Antonio, just as she revived, and called him, exclaiming on his Cruelty, in leaving her so soon. But when, turning her Eyes towards the Door, she saw him; Oh! with what eager Haste she flew to him! then clasped him round the Waist, obliging him, with all the tender Expressions that the Soul of a Lover, and a Woman’s too, is capable of uttering, not to leave her in the Possession of Don Antonio. This so amaz’d her slighted Lover, that he knew not, at first, how to proceed in this tormenting Scene; but at last, summoning all his wonted Resolution, and Strength of Mind, he told her, He would put her out of his Power, if she would consent to retreat for some few Hours to a Nunnery that was not above half a Mile distant from thence, till he had discoursed his Friend, Don Henrique something more particularly than hitherto, about this Matter: To which she readily agreed, upon the Promise that Don Henrique made her, of seeing her with the first Opportunity. They waited on her then to the Convent, where she was kindly and respectfully received by the Lady Abbess; but it was not long before her Grief renewing with greater Violence, and more afflicting Circumstances, had obliged them to stay with her till it was almost dark, when they once more begged the Liberty of an Hour’s Absence; and the better to palliate their Design, Henrique told her, that he would make use of her Father Don Richardo’s Coach, in which they came to Don Antonio’s, for so small a Time: which they did, leaving only Eleonora her Attendant with her, with out whom she had been at a Loss, among so many fair Strangers; Strangers, I mean, to her unhappy Circumstances: Whilst they were carry’d near a Mile farther, where, just as ’twas dark, they lighted from the Coach, Don Henrique, ordering the Servants not to stir thence till their Return from their private Walk, which was about a Furlong, in a Field that belong’d to the Convent. Here Don Antonio told Don Henrique, That he had not acted honourably; That he had betray’d him, and robb’d him at once both of a Friend and Mistress. To which t’other returned, That he understood his Meaning, when he proposed a particular Discourse about this Affair, which he now perceived must end in Blood: But you may remind your self (continued he) that I have kept my Promise in delivering her to you. Yes, (cry’d Antonio) after you had practis’d foully and basely on her. Not at all! (returned Henrique) It was her Fate that brought this Mischief on her; for I urged the Shame and Scandal of Inconstancy, but all in vain, to her. But don’t you love her, Henrique? (the other ask’d.) Too well, and cannot live without her, though I fear I may feel the cursed Effects of the same Inconstancy: However, I had quitted her all to you, but you see how she resents it. And you shall see, Sir, (cry’d Antonio, drawing his Sword in a Rage) how I resent it. Here, without more Words, they fell to Action; to bloody Action. (Ah! how wretched are our Sex, in being the unhappy Occasion of so many fatal Mischiefs, even between the dearest Friends!) They fought on each Side with the greatest Animosity of Rivals, forgetting all the sacred Bonds of their former Friendship; till Don Antonio fell, and said, dying, ‘Forgive me, Henrique! I was to blame; I could not live without her:—I fear she will betray thy Life, which haste and preserve, for my sake—Let me not die all at once!—Heaven pardon both of us!—Farewel! Oh, haste! Farewel! (returned Don Henrique) Farewel, thou bravest, truest Friend! Farewel thou noblest Part of me!—And Farewel all the Quiet of my Soul.’ Then stooping, he kissed his Cheek; but, rising, he found he must retire in time, or else must perish through Loss of Blood, for he had received two or three dangerous Wounds, besides others of less Consequence: Wherefore he made all the convenient Haste he could to the Coach, into which, by the Help of the Footmen, he got, and order’d ’em to drive him directly to Don Richardo’s with all imaginable Speed; where he arriv’d in little more than half an Hour’s Time, and was received by Ardelia’s Father with the greatest Confusion and Amazement that is expressible, seeing him return’d without his Daughter, and so desperately wounded. Before he thought it convenient to ask him any Question more than to enquire of his Daughter’s Safety, to which he receiv’d a short but satisfactory Answer, Don Richardo sent for an eminent and able Surgeon, who probed and dress’d Don Henrique’s Wounds, who was immediately put to Bed; not without some Despondency of his Recovery; but (thanks to his kind Stars, and kinder Constitution!) he rested pretty well for some Hours that Night, and early in the Morning, Ardelia’s Father, who had scarce taken any Rest all that Night, came to visit him, as soon as he understood from the Servants who watched with him, that he was in a Condition to suffer a short Discourse; which, you may be sure, was to learn the Circumstances of the past Night’s Adventure; of which Don Henrique gave him a perfect and pleasant Account, since he heard that Don Antonio, his mortal Enemy, was killed; the Assurance of whose Death was the more delightful to him, since, by this Relation, he found that Antonio was the Man, whom his Care of his Daughter had so often frustrated. Don Henrique had hardly made an End of his Narration, e’er a Servant came hastily to give Richardo Notice, that the Officers were come to search for his Son-in-Law that should have been; whom the Old Gentleman’s wise Precaution had secured in a Room so unsuspected, that they might as reasonably have imagined the entire Walls of his House had a Door made of Stones, as that there should have been one to that close Apartment: He went therefore boldly to the Officers, and gave them all the Keys of his House, with free Liberty to examine every Room and Chamber; which they did, but to no Purpose; and Don Henrique lay there undiscover’d, till his Cure was perfected.
In the mean time Ardelia, who that fatal Night but too rightly guess’d that the Death of one or both her Lovers was the Cause that they did not return to their Promise, the next Day fell into a high Fever, in which her Father found her soon after he had clear’d himself of those who come to search for a Lover. The Assurance which her Father gave her of Henrique’s Life, seemed a little to revive her; but the Severity of Antonio’s Fate was no Way obliging to her, since she could not but retain the Memory of his Love and Constancy; which added to her Afflictions, and heightned her Distemper, insomuch that Richardo was constrain’d to leave her under the Care of the good Lady Abbess, and to the diligent Attendance of Eleonora, not daring to hazard her Life in a Removal to his own House. All their Care and Diligence was however ineffectual; for she languished even to the least Hope of Recovery, till immediately after the first Visit of Don Henrique, which was the first he made in a Month’s Time, and that by Night incognito, with her Father, her Distemper visibly retreated each Day: Yet when at last she enjoy’d a perfect Health of Body, her Mind grew sick, and she plunged into a deep Melancholy; which made her entertain a positive Resolution of taking the Veil at the End of her Novitiate; which accordingly she did, notwithstanding all the Intreaties, Prayers, and Tears both of her Father and Lover. But she soon repented her Vow, and often wish’d that she might by any Means see and speak to Don Henrique, by whose Help she promised to her self a Deliverance out of her voluntary Imprisonment: Nor were his Wishes wanting to the same Effect, tho’ he was forced to fly into Italy, to avoid the Prosecution of Antonio’s Friends. Thither she pursu’d him; nor could he any way shun her, unless he could have left his Heart at a Distance from his Body: Which made him take a fatal Resolution of returning to Seville in Disguise, where he wander’d about the Convent every Night like a Ghost (for indeed his Soul was within, while his inanimate Trunk was without) till at last he found Means to convey a Letter to her, which both surprized and delighted her. The Messenger that brought it her was one of her Mother-in-Law’s Maids, whom he had known before, and met accidentally one Night as he was going his Rounds, and she coming out from Ardelia; with her he prevail’d, and with Gold obliged her to Secrecy and Assistance: Which proved so successful, that he understood from Ardelia her strong Desire of Liberty, and the Continuance of her Passion for him, together with the Means and Time most convenient and likely to succeed for her Enlargement. The Time was the fourteenth Night following, at twelve o’Clock, which just compleated a Month since his Return thither; at which Time they both promised themselves the greatest Happiness on Earth. But you may observe the Justice of Heaven, in their Disappointment.
Don Sebastian, who still pursu’d him with a most implacable Hatred, had traced him even to Italy, and there narrowly missing him, posted after him to Toledo; so sure and secret was his Intelligence! As soon as he arriv’d, he went directly to the Convent where his Sister Elvira had been one of the Profess’d, ever since Don Henrique had forsaken her, and where Ardelia had taken her repented Vow. Elvira had all along conceal’d the Occasion of her coming thither from Ardelia; and tho’ she was her only Confident, and knew the whole Story of her Misfortunes, and heard the Name of Don Henrique repeated a hundred Times a Day, whom still she lov’d most perfectly, yet never gave her beautiful Rival any Cause of Suspicion that she lov’d him, either by Words or Looks: Nay more, when she understood that Don Henrique came to the Convent with Ardelia and Antonio, and at other Times with her Father; yet she had so great a Command of her self, as to refrain seeing him, or to be seen by him; nor ever intended to have spoken or writ to him, had not her Brother Don Sebastian put her upon the cruel Necessity of doing the last; who coming to visit his Sister (as I have said before) found her with Dona Ardelia, whom he never remembred to have seen, nor who ever had seen him but twice, and that was about six Years before, when she was but ten Years of Age, when she fell passionately in Love with him, and continu’d her Passion till about the fourteenth Year of her Empire, when unfortunate Antonio first began his Court to her. Don Sebastian was really a very desirable Person, being at that time very beautiful, his Age not exceeding six and twenty, of a sweet Conversation, very brave, but revengeful and irreconcilable (like most of his Countrymen) and of an honourable Family. At the Sight of him Ardelia felt her former Passion renew; which proceeded and continued with such Violence, that it utterly defac’d the Ideas of Antonio and Henrique. (No Wonder that she who could resolve to forsake her God for Man, should quit one Lover for another.) In short, she then only wished that he might love her equally, and then she doubted not of contriving the Means of their Happiness betwixt ’em. She had her Wish, and more, if possible; for he lov’d her beyond the Thought of any other present or future Blessing, and fail’d not to let her know it, at the second Interview; when he receiv’d the greatest Pleasure he could have wish’d, next to the Joys of a Bridal Bed: For she confessed her Love to him, and presently put him upon thinking on the Means of her Escape; but not finding his Designs so likely to succeed, as those Measures she had sent to Don Henrique, she communicates the very same to Don Sebastian, and agreed with him to make use of them on that very Night, wherein she had obliged Don Henrique to attempt her Deliverance: The Hour indeed was different, being determined to be at eleven. Elvira, who was present at the Conference, took the Hint; and not being willing to disoblige a Brother who had so hazarded his Life in Vindication of her, either does not, or would not seem to oppose his Inclinations at that Time: However, when he retired with her to talk more particularly of his intended Revenge on Don Henrique, who he told her lay somewhere absconded in Toledo, and whom he had resolved, as he assured her, to sacrifice to her injur’d Honour, and his Resentments; she oppos’d that his vindictive Resolution with all the forcible Arguments in a virtuous and pious Lady’s Capacity, but in vain: so that immediately upon his Retreat from the Convent, she took the Opportunity of writing to Don Henrique as follows, the fatal Hour not being then seven Nights distant.
Don Henrique,
My Brother is now in Town, in Pursuit of your Life; nay more, of your Mistress, who has consented to make her Escape from the Convent, at the same Place of it, and by the same Means on which she had agreed to give her self entirely to you, but the Hour is eleven. I know, Henrique, your Ardelia is dearer to you than your Life: But your Life, your dear Life, is more desired than any Thing in this World, by
Your injur’d and forsaken
ELVIRA.
This she delivered to Richardo’s Servant, whom Henrique had gained that Night, as soon as she came to visit Ardelia, at her usual Hour, just as she went out of the Cloister.
Don Henrique was not a little surprized with this Billet; however, he could hardly resolve to forbear his accustom’d Visits to Ardelia, at first: But upon more mature Consideration, he only chose to converse with her by Letters, which still press’d her to be mindful of her Promise, and of the Hour, not taking notice of any Caution that he had received of her Treachery. To which she still return’d in Words that might assure him of her Constancy.
The dreadful Hour wanted not a Quarter of being perfect, when Don Henrique came; and having fixed his Rope-Ladder to that Part of the Garden-Wall, where he was expected, Ardelia, who had not stir’d from that very Place for a Quarter of an Hour before, prepar’d to ascend by it; which she did, as soon as his Servant had returned and fixed it on the inner-side of the Wall: On the Top of which, at a little Distance, she found another fasten’d, for her to descend on the out-side, whilst Don Henrique eagerly waited to receive her. She came at last, and flew into his Arms; which made Henrique cry out in a Rapture, Am I at last once more happy in having my Ardelia in my Possession! She, who knew his Voice, and now found she was betray’d, but knew not by whom, shriek’d out, I am ruined! help! help!—Loose me, I charge you, Henrique! Loose me! At that very Moment, and at those very Words, came Sebastian, attended by only one Servant; and hearing Henrique reply, Not all the Powers of Hell shall snatch you from me, drawing his Sword, without one Word, made a furious Pass at him: But his Rage and Haste misguided his Arm, for his Sword went quite through Ardelia’s Body, who only said, Ah, wretched Maid! and drop’d from Henrique’s Arms, who then was obliged to quit her, to preserve his own Life, if possible: however he had not had so much Time as to draw, had not Sebastian been amazed at this dreadful Mistake of his Sword; but presently recollecting himself, he flew with redoubled Rage to attack Henrique; and his Servant had seconded him, had not Henrique’s, who was now descended, otherwise diverted him. They fought with the greatest Animosity on both Sides, and with equal Advantage; for they both fell together: Ah, my Ardelia, I come to thee now! (Sebastian groan’d out,)—’Twas this unlucky Arm, which now embraces thee, that killed thee. Just Heaven! (she sigh’d out,)—Oh, yet have Mercy! [Here they both dy’d.] Amen, (cry’d Henrique, dying) I want it most— Oh, Antonio! Oh, Elvira! Ah, there’s the Weight that sinks me down.—And yet I wish Forgiveness.—Once more, sweet Heaven, have Mercy! He could not out-live that last Word; which was echo’d by Elvira, who all this while stood weeping, and calling out for Help, as she stood close to the Wall in the Garden.