’Twas now that D’elmont began to find there were Embarrassments in an Intrigue of this Nature, which he had not foreseen, and stay’d at Home all Day, impatiently expecting the clearing of an Affair, which at present seem’d so ambiguous. When it grew a little Duskish, his Gentleman brought in a Young Woman, whom he immediately knew to be: Anaret, an Attendant on Amena; and when he had made her sit down, told her he hop’d she was come to make an Eclaircissment, which would be very obliging to him, and therefore desir’d she wou’d not defer it.
My Lord, said she, ’tis with an unspeakable Trouble I discharge that Trust my Lady has repos’d in me, in giving you a Relation of her Misfortunes; but not to keep you longer in suspence, which I perceive is uneasy to you; I shall acquaint you, that soon after you were gone, my Lady came up into her Chamber, where, as I was preparing to undress her, we heard Monsieur Sanseverin in an angry Tone ask where his Daughter was, and being told she was above, we immediately saw him enter, with a Countenance so inflam’d, as put us both in a mortal Apprehension. An ill use (said he to her) have you made of my Indulgence, and the Liberty I have allow’d you! Could neither the Considerations of the Honour of your Family, your own Reputation, nor my eternal Repose, deter you from such imprudent Actions, as you cannot be ignorant must be the inevitable Ruin of ’em all. My poor Lady was too much surpriz’d at these cruel Words, to be able to make any Answer to ’em, and stood trembling, and almost fainting, while he went on with his Discourse. Was it consistent with the Niceties of your Sex, said he, or with the Duty you owe me, to receive the Addresses of a Person whose Pretensions I was a Stranger to? If the Count D’elmont has any that are Honourable, wherefore are they conceal’d? The Count D’elmont! (cry’d my Lady more frighted than before) never made any Declarations to me worthy of your Knowledge, nor did I ever entertain him otherwise, than might become your Daughter. ’Tis false (interrupted he furiously) I am but too well inform’d of the contrary; nor has the most private of your shameful Meetings escap’d my Ears! Judge, Sir, in what a Confusion my Lady was in at this Discourse; ’twas in vain, she muster’d all her Courage to perswade him from giving Credit to an Intelligence so injurious to her; he grew the more enrag’d, and after a thousand Reproaches, flung out of the Room with all the Marks of a most violent Indignation, But tho’ your Lordship is too well acquainted with the mildness of Amena’s Disposition, not to believe she could bear the Displeasure of a Father (who had always most tenderly lov’d her) with indifference; yet ’tis impossible for you to imagine in what an excess of Sorrow she was plung’d, she found every Passage of her ill Conduct (as she was pleas’d to call it) was betray’d, and did not doubt but whoever had done her that ill Office to her Father, wou’d take care the Discovery should not be confin’d to him alone. Grief, Fear, Remorse, and Shame by turns assaulted her, and made her incapable of Consolation; even the soft Pleas of Love were silenc’d by their Tumultuous Clamours, and for a Time she consider’d your Lordship in no other view than that of her Undoer. How! cry’d D’elmont (interrupting her) cou’d my Amena, who I thought all sweetness, judge so harshly of me. Oh! my Lord, resum’d Anaret, you must forgive those first Emotions, which as violent as they were, wanted but your Presence to dissipate in a Moment; and if your Idea had not presently that Power, it lost no Honour by having Foes to struggle with, since at last it put ’em all to flight, and gain’d so entire a Victory, that before Morning, of all her Troubles, scarce any but the Fears of losing you remain’d. And I must take the Liberty to assure your Lordship, my Endeavours were not wanting to establish a Resolution in her to despise every thing for Love and you. But to be as brief as I can in my Relation; the Night was no sooner gone, than Monsieur her Father came into the Chamber, with a Countenance, tho’ more compos’d, than that with which he left us, yet with such an Air of Austerity, as made my timerous Lady lose most of the Spirit she had assum’d for this Encounter. I come not now Amena, said he, to upbraid or punish your Disobedience, if you are not wholly abandon’d by your Reason, your own Reflections will be sufficiently your Tormentors. But to put you in a way, (if not to clear your Fame, yet to take away all Occasion of future Calumny,) you must write to Count D’elmont.
I will have no denials continu’d he, (seeing her about to speak) and leading her to her Escritore, constrain’d her to write what he dictated, and you receiv’d; just as she was going to Seal it, a Servant brought word that a Gentleman desir’d to speak with Monsieur Sanseverin, he was oblig’d to step into another Room, and that absence gave her an Opportunity of writing a Note, which she dextrously slip’d into the Letter, unperceiv’d by her Father at his return, who little suspecting what she had done, sent it away immediately. Now, said he, we shall be able to judge of the sincerity of the Count’s Affections, but till then I shall take care to prove my self a Person not disinterested in the Honour of my Family. As he spoke these Words, he took her by the Hand, and conducting her, thro’ his own, into a little Chamber (which he had order’d to be made ready for that purpose) shut her into it; I follow’d to the Door, and seconded my Lady in her Desires, that I might be permitted to attend her there; but all in vain, he told me, he doubted not but that I had been her Confident in this Affair, and ordered me to quit his House in a few Days. As soon as he was gone out, I went into the Garden, and saunter’d up and down a good while, hoping to get an Opportunity of speaking to my Lady through the Window, for I knew there was one that look’d into it; but not seeing her, I bethought me of getting a little Stick, with which I knock’d gently against the Glass, and engag’d her to open it. As soon as she perceiv’d me, a Beam of Joy brighten’d in her Eyes, and glisten’d tho’ her Tears. Dear Anaret, said she, how kindly do I take this proof of thy Affection, ’tis only in thy Power to alleviate my Misfortunes, and thou I know art come to offer thy Assistance. Then after I had assur’d her of my willingness to serve her in any command, she desir’d me to wait on you with an Account of all that had happen’d, and to give you her Vows of an eternal Love. My Eyes, said she weeping, perhaps may ne’er behold him more, but Imagination shall supply that want, and from my Heart he never shall be Absent. Oh! do not talk thus, cry’d the Count, extreamly touch’d at this Discourse. I must, I will see her, nothing shall hold her from me. You may, answer’d Anaret, but then it must be with the Approbation of Monsieur Sanseverin, he will be proud to receive you in Quality of a Suitor to his Daughter, and ’tis only to oblige you to a publick Declaration that he takes these Measures. D’elmont was not perfectly pleas’d with these Words: he was too quick sighted not to perceive immediately what Monsieur Sanseverin drove at, but as well as he lik’d Amena, found no inclination in himself to Marry her; and therefore was not desirous of an Explanation of what he resolv’d not to seem to understand. He walk’d two or three turns about the Room, endeavouring to conceal his Disgust, and when he had so well overcome the shock, as to banish all visible Tokens of it, I would willingly said he coldly, come in to any proper Method for the obtaining the Person of Amena, as well as her Heart; but there are certain Reasons for which I cannot make a Discovery of my Designs to her Father, ’till I have first spoken with her. My Lord, reply’d the subtle Anaret (easily guessing at his Meaning) I wish to Heaven there were a possibility of your Meeting; there is nothing I would not risque to forward it, and if your Lordship can think of any way in which I may be serviceable to you, in this short Time I am allow’d to stay in the Family, I beg you would command me. She spoke this with an Air which made the Count believe she really had it in her Power to serve him in this Occasion, and presently hit on the surest Means to bind her to his Interest. You are very obliging, said he, and I doubt not but your Ingenuity is equal to your good Nature, therefore will leave the Contrivance of my happiness entirely to you, and that you may not think your Care bestow’d on an ungrateful Person, be pleas’d (continu’d he, giving her a Purse of Lewis-Dor’s) to accept this small Earnest of my future Friendship. Anaret, like most of her Function, was too mercinary to resist such a Temptation, tho’ it had been given her to betray the Honour of her whole Sex; and after a little pause, reply’d, Your Lordship is too generous to be refus’d, tho’ in a Matter of the greatest Difficulty, as indeed this is; for in the strict Confinement my Lady is, I know no way but one, and that extreamly hazardous to her; however, I do not fear but my Perswasions, joyn’d with her own Desires, will influence her to attempt it. Your Lordship knows we have a little Door at the farther End of the Garden, that opens into the Tuillerys. I do, cry’d D’elmont interrupting her. I have several times parted from my Charmer there, when my Entreaties have prevail’d with her to stay longer with me than she wou’d have the Family to take notice of. I hope to order the Matter so, resum’d Anaret, that it shall be the Scene this Night of a most happy Meeting. My Lady unknown to her Father, has the Key of it, she can throw it to me from her Window, and I can open it to you, who must be walking near it, about Twelve or One a Clock, for by that time every body will be in Bed. But what will that avail, cry’d D’elmont hastily; since she lies in her Father’s Chamber, where ’tis impossible to pass Without alarming him. You Lovers are so impatient rejoyn’d Anaret smiling, I never design’d you should have Entrance there, tho’ the Window is so low, that a Person of your Lordship’s Stature and Agility might mount it with a Galliard step, but I suppose it will turn to as good an Account, if your Mistress by my Assistance stets out of it. But can she, interrupted he; will she, dost thou think? Fear not, my Lord, reply’d she, be but punctual to the Hour, Amena, shall be yours, if Love, Wit and Opportunity have power to make her so. D’elmont was transported with this Promise, and the Thoughts of what he expected to possess by her Means, rais’d his Imagination to so high a pitch, as he cou’d not forbear kissing and embracing her with such Raptures, as might not have been very pleasing to Amena, had she been witness of ’em. But Anaret who had other things in her Head than Gallantry, disengag’d her self from him as soon she cou’d, taking more Satisfaction in forwarding an Affair in which she propos’d so much Advantage, than in the Caresses of the most accomplish’d Gentleman in the World.
When she came Home, she found every thing as she cou’d wish, Monsieur Abroad, and his Daughter at the Window, impatiently watching her return, she told her as much of the Discourse she had with the Count as she thought proper, extolling his Love and Constancy, and carefully concealing all she thought might give an umbrage to her Vertue. But in spight of all the Artifice she made use of, she found it no easie Matter to perswade her to get out of the Window; the fears she had of being discover’d, and more expos’d to her Father’s Indignation, and the Censure of the World, damp’d her Inclinations, and made her deaf to the eager Solicitations of this unfaithful Woman. As they were Disputing, some of the Servants happ’ning to come into the Garden, oblig’d ’em to break off; and Anaret retir’d, not totally dispairing of compassing her Designs, when the appointed Hour should arrive, and Amena should know the darling Object of her Wishes was so near. Nor did her Hopes deceive her, the Resolutions of a Lover, when made against the Interest of the Person belov’d, are but of a short duration; and this unhappy Fair was no sooner left alone, and had leisure to Contemplate on the Graces of the Charming D’elmont, but Love plaid his part with such Success, as made her repent she had chid Anaret for her Proposal, and wish’d for nothing more than an Opportunity to tell her so. She pass’d several Hours in Disquietudes she had never known before, till at last she heard her Father come into the next Room to go to Bed, and soon after some Body knock’d softly at the Window, she immediately open’d it, and perceiv’d by the Light of the Moon which then shone very bright, that it was Anaret, she had not Patience to listen to the long Speech the other had prepar’d to perswade her, but putting her Head as far as she could, to prevent being heard by her Father. Well Anaret, said she, where is this Adventrous Lover, what is it he requires of me? Oh! Madam, reply’d she, overjoy’d at the compliable Humour she found her in, he is now at the Garden Door, there’s nothing wanting but your Key to give him Entrance; what farther he requests, himself shall tell you. Oh Heavens! cry’d Amena, searching her Pockets, and finding she had it not; I am undone, I have left it in my Cabinet in the Chamber where I us’d to lie. These Words made Anaret at her Wits end, she knew there was no possibility of fetching it, there being so many Rooms to go thro’, she ran to the Door, and endeavour’d to push back the Lock, but had not Strength; she then knew not what to do, she was sure D’elmont was on the other side, and fear’d he would resent this usage to the disappointment of all her mercenary Hopes, and durst not call to acquaint him with his Misfortune for fear of being heard. As for Amena, she was now more sensible than ever of the violence of her Inclinations, by the extream vexation this Disappointment gave her: Never did People pass a Night in greater uneasiness, than these three; the Count who was naturally impatient, could not bear a balk of this nature without the utmost chagrin. Amena languish’d, and Anaret fretted to Death, tho’ she resolv’d to leave no Stone unturn’d to set all right again. Early in the Morning she went to his Lodgings, and found him in a very ill Humour, but she easily pacify’d him, by representing with a great deal of real Grief, the Accident that retarded his Happiness, and assuring him there was nothing cou’d hinder the fulfilling it the next Night. When she had gain’d this Point, she came Home and got the Key into her possession, but could not find an opportunity all Day of speaking to her Lady, Monsieur Sanseverin did not stir out of Doors, and spent most of it with his Daughter; in his Discourse to her, he set the Passion the Count had for her in so true a light, that it made a very great alteration in her Sentiments; and she began to reflect on the Condescensions she had given a Man, who had never so much as mention’d Marriage to her, with so much shame, as almost overwhelm’d her Love, and she was now determin’d never to see him, till he should declare himself to her Father in such a manner as would be for her Honour.
In the mean time Anaret waited with a great deal of Impatience for the Family going to Bed; and as soon as all was hush, ran to give the Count Admittance; and leaving him in an Alley on the farther side of the Garden, made the accustom’d Sign at the Window. Amena presently open’d it, but instead of staying to hear what she would say, threw a Letter out, Carry that, said she, to Count D’elmont, let him know the Contents of it are wholly the result of my own Reason. And as for your part, I charge you trouble me no farther on this Subject; then shutting the Casement hastily, left Anaret in a strange Consternation at this suddain Change of her Humour; however she made no delay, but running to the Place where the Count waited her return, deliver’d him the Letter, but advis’d him (who was ready enough of himself) not to obey any Commands might be given him to the hindrance of his Designs. The Moon was then at the full, and gave so clear a Light, that he easily found it contain’d these Words.
To Count D’elmont.