Pardon me, madam, replied Arabella. I cannot be of your opinion. The princess of Parthia may indeed justly be ranked among the number of unfortunate persons, but she can by no means dispute the melancholy precedence with the divine Cleopatra—For in fine, madam, what evils did the princess of Parthia suffer which the fair Cleopatra did not likewise endure, and some of them haply in a greater degree? If Elisa, by the tyrannical authority of the king her father, saw herself upon the point of becoming the wife of a prince she detested, was not the beautiful daughter of Antony, by the more unjustifiable tyranny of Augustus likely to be forced into the arms of Tyberius, a proud and cruel prince, who was odious to the whole world as well as to her? If Elisa was for some time in the power of pirates, was not Cleopatra captive to an inhuman king, who presented his sword to the fair breast of that divine princess, worthy the adoration of the whole earth? And in fine, if Elisa had the grief to see her dear Artaban imprisoned by the order of Augustus, Cleopatra beheld with mortal agonies her beloved Coriolanus enclosed amidst the guards of that enraged prince, and doomed to a cruel death.
It is certain, madam, replied the countess, that the misfortunes of both these princesses were very great, though as you have shown me with some inequality: and when one reflects upon the dangerous adventures to which persons of their quality were exposed in those times, one cannot help rejoicing that we live in an age in which the customs, manners, habits, and inclinations differ so widely from theirs, that it is impossible such adventures should ever happen.
Such is the strange alteration of things, that some people I dare say at present cannot be persuaded to believe there ever were princesses wandering through the world by land and sea in mean disguises, carried away violently out of their father's dominions by insolent lovers; some discovered sleeping in forests, other shipwrecked on desolate islands, confined in castles, bound in chariots, and even struggling amidst the tempestuous waves of the sea, into which they had cast themselves to avoid the brutal force of their ravishers. Not one of these things having happened within the compass of several thousand years, people unlearned in antiquity would be apt to deem them idle tales, so improbable do they appear at present.
Arabella, though greatly surprised at this discourse, did not think proper to express her thoughts of it. She was unwilling to appear absolutely ignorant of the present customs of the world, before a lady whose good opinion she was ardently desirous of improving. Her prepossessions in favour of the countess made her receive the new lights she held out to her with respect, though not without doubt and irresolution. Her blushes, her silence, and down-cast eyes gave the countess to understand part of her thoughts; who for fear of alarming her too much for that time, dropped the subject, and turning the conversation on others more general, gave Arabella an opportunity of mingling in it with that wit and vivacity which was natural to her when romances were out of the question.
[Chapter VII.]
In which, if the reader has not anticipated it, he will find an explanation of some seeming inconsistencies in the foregoing chapter.
The countess, charmed with the wit and good sense of Arabella, could not conceal her admiration, but expressed it in terms the most obliging imaginable: and Arabella, who was excessively delighted with her, returned the compliments she made her with the most respectful tenderness.
In the midst of these mutual civilities, Arabella, in the style of romance, entreated the countess to favour her with the recital of her adventures.