Too many Proofs have I given you of my weakness not to make you think me incapable of forming or keeping any Resolution to the Prejudice of that Passion you have inspir’d me with: But know, thou undoer of my Quiet, tho’ I have Lov’d and still do Love you with a Tenderness, which I fear will be Unvanquishable; yet I will rather suffer my Life, than my Virtue to become its Prey. Press me then no more I conjure you, to such dangerous Interviews, in which I dare neither Trust my Self, nor You, if you believe me worthy your real Regard, the way thro’ Honour is open to receive You; Religion, Reason, Modesty, and Obedience forbid the rest.
Farewel.
D’elmont knew the Power he had over her too well, to be much discourag’d at what he read, and after a little consultation with Anaret, they concluded he should go to speak to her, as being the best Sollicitor in his own Cause. As he came down the Walk, Amena saw him thro’ the Glass, and the sight of that beloved Object, bringing a thousand past Endearments to her Memory, made her incapable of retiring from the Window, and she remain’d in a languishing and immoveable Posture, leaning her Head against the Shutter, ’till he drew near enough to discern she saw him. He took this for no ill Omen, and instead of falling on his Knees at an humble Distance, as some Romantick Lovers would have done, redoubled his Pace, and Love and Fortune which on this Occasion were resolv’d to befriend him, presented to his View a large Rolling-Stone which the Gardiner had accidentally left there; the Iron-work that held it was very high, and strong enough to bear a much greater weight than his, so he made no more to do, but getting on the top of it, was almost to the Waste above the bottom of the Casement. This was a strange Trial, for had she been less in Love, good Manners would have oblig’d her to open it; however she retain’d so much of her former Resolution, as to conjure him to be gone, and not expose her to such Hazards; that if her Father should come to know she held any clandestine Correspondence with him, after the Commands he had given her, she were utterly undone, and that he never must expect any Condescensions from her, without being first allow’d by him. D’elmont, tho’ he was a little startled to find her so much more Mistress of her Temper than he believ’d she could be, yet resolv’d to make all possible use of this Opportunity, which probably might be the last he shou’d ever have, look’d on her as she spoke, with Eyes so piercing, so sparkling with Desire, accompany’d with so bewitching softness, as might have thaw’d the most frozen reservedness, and on the melting Soul stamp’d Love’s Impression. ’Tis certain they were too irresistable to be long withstood, and putting an end to Amena’s grave Remonstrances, gave him leave to reply to ’em in this manner. Why my Life, my Angel, said he, my everlasting Treasure of my Soul, shou’d these Objections now be rais’d? How can you say you have given me your Heart? Nay, own you think me worthy that inestimable Jewel, yet dare not trust your Person with me a few Hours: What have you to fear from your adoring Slave? I want but to convince you how much I am so, by a thousand yet uninvented Vows. They may be spar’d, cry’d Amena, hastily interrupting him, one Declaration to my Father, is all the Proof that he or I demands of your Sincerity. Oh! Thou Inhuman and Tyrannick Charmer, answer’d he, (seizing her Hand, and eagerly kissing it) I doubt not but your faithful Anaret has told you, that I could not without the highest Imprudence, presently discover the Passion I have for you to the World. I have, my Lord, said that cunning Wench who stood near him, and that ’twas only to acquaint her with the Reasons why, for some Time, you would have it a Secret, that you much desir’d to speak with her. Besides (rejoyn’d the Count) consider my Angel how much more hazardous it is for you to hold Discourse with me here, than at a farther distance from your Father; your denying to go with me is the only way to make your Fears prove true; his jealousie of you may possibly make him more watchful than ordinary, and we are not sure but that this Minute he may tear you from my Arms; whereas if you suffer me to bear you hence, if he should happen to come even to your Door, and hear no noise, he will believe you sleeping, and return to his Bed well satisfy’d. With these and the like Arguments she was at last overcome, and with the assistance of Anaret, he easily lifted her down. But this rash Action, so contrary to the Resolution she thought herself a few moments before so fix’d in, made such a confusion in her Mind, as render’d her insensible for some Time of all he said to her. They made what haste they could into the Tuilleries, and D’elmont having plac’d her on one of the most pleasant Seats, was resolv’d to loose no time; and having given her some Reasons for his not addressing to her Father, which tho’ weak in themselves, were easily believ’d by a Heart so willing to be deceiv’d as hers, he began to press for a greater confirmation of her Affection than Words; and ’twas now this inconsiderate Lady found herself in the greatest Strait she had ever yet been in; all Nature seem’d to favour his Design, the pleasantness of the Place, the silence of the Night, the sweetness of the Air, perfum’d with a thousand various Odours, wafted by gentle Breezes from adjacent Gardens, compleated the most delightful Scene that ever was, to offer up a Sacrifice to Love; not a breath but flew wing’d with desire, and sent soft thrilling Wishes to the Soul; Cynthia herself, cold as she is reported, assisted in the Inspiration, and sometimes shone with all her brightness, as it were to feast their ravish’d Eyes with gazing on each others Beauty; then veil’d her Beams in Clouds, to give the Lover boldness, and hide the Virgins blushes. What now could poor Amena do, surrounded with so many Powers, attack’d by such a charming Force without, betray’d by tenderness within: Virtue and Pride, the Guardians of her Honour, fled from her Breast, and left her to her Foe, only a modest Bashfulness remain’d, which for a time made some Defence, but with such weakness as a Lover less impatient than D’elmont, would have little regarded. The heat of the Weather, and her Confinement having hindred her from dressing that Day; she had only a thin silk Night Gown on, which flying open as he caught her in his Arms, he found her panting-Heart beat measures of Consent, her heaving Breast swell to be press’d by his, and every Pulse confess a wish to yeild; her Spirits all dissolv’d, sunk in a Lethargy of Love; her snowy Arms, unknowing, grasp’d his Neck, her Lips met his half way, and trembled at the touch; in fine, there was but a Moment betwixt her and Ruin; when the tread of some Body coming hastily down the Walk, oblig’d the half-bless’d Pair to put a stop to farther Endearments. It was Anaret, who having been left Centinel in the Garden, in order to open the Door when her Lady should return, had seen Lights in every Room in the House, and heard great Confusion, so ran immediately to give ’em notice of this Misfortune. These dreadful Tidings soon rous’d Amena from her Dream of Happiness, she accus’d the influence of her Amorous Stars, upbraided Anaret, and blam’d the Count in Terms little differing from distraction, and ’twas as much as both of ’em could do to perswade her to be calm. However, ’twas concluded that Anaret should go back to the House, and return to ’em again, as soon as she had learn’d what accident had occasion’d this Disturbance. The Lovers had now a second Opportunity, if either of ’em had been inclin’d to make use of it, but their Sentiments were entirely chang’d with this Alarm; Amena’s Thoughts were wholly taken up with her approaching Shame, and vow’d she wou’d rather die than ever come in to her Father’s Presence, if it were true that she was miss’d; the Count, who wanted not good Nature, seriously reflecting on the Misfortunes he was likely to bring on a young Lady, who tenderly lov’d him, gave him a great deal of real Remorse, and the Consideration that he should be necessitated, either to own an injurious Design, or come into Measures for the clearing of it, which would in no way agree with his Ambition, made him extreamly pensive, and wish Amena again in her Chamber, more earnestly than ever he had done, to get her out of it; they both remain’d in a profound Silence, impatiently waiting the approach of Anaret; but she not coming as they expected, and the Night wearing away apace, very much encreas’d the Trouble they were in; at length the Count, after revolving a thousand Inventions in his Mind, advis’d to walk toward the Garden, and see whether the Door was yet open. ’Tis better for you, Madam, said he, whatsoever has happen’d, to be found in your own Garden, than in any Place with me. Amena comply’d, and suffer’d herself to be led thither, trembling, and ready to sink with Fear and Grief at every Step; but when they found all fast, and that there was no hopes of getting Entrance, she fell quite senseless, and without any signs of Life, at her Lover’s Feet; he was strangely at a loss what to do with her, and made a thousand Vows if he got clear of this Adventure, never to embark in another of this Nature; he was little skill’d in proper Means to recover her, and ’twas more to her Youth and the goodness of her Constitution that she ow’d the Return of her Senses, than his awkard Endeavours; when she reviv’d, the piteous Lamentations she made, and the perplexity he was in how to dispose of her, was very near reducing him to as bad a Condition as she had been in; he never till now having had occasion for a Confident, render’d him so unhappy as not to know any one Person at whose House he cou’d, with any Convenience, trust her, and to carry her to that where he had Lodgings, was the way to be made the talk of all Paris. He ask’d her several times if she would not command him to wait on her to some Place where she might remain free from Censure, till she heard from her Father, but cou’d get no Answer but upbraidings from her. So making a Virtue of Necessity, he was oblig’d to take her in his Arms, with a design to bring her (tho’ much against his Inclinations) to his own Apartment: As he was going thro’ a very fair Street which led to that in which he liv’d, Amena cry’d out with a sort of Joy, loose me, my Lord, I see a Light in yonder House, the Lady of it is my dearest Friend, she has power with my Father, and if I beg her Protection, I doubt not but she will afford it me, and perhaps find some way to mitigate my Misfortunes; the Count was overjoy’d to be eas’d of his fair Burthen, and setting her down at the Gate, was preparing to take his leave with an indifference, which was but too visible to the afflicted Lady. I see, my Lord, said she, the pleasure you take in getting rid of me, exceeds the trouble for the Ruin you have brought upon me; but go, I hope I shall resent this Usage as I ought, and that I may be the better enabled to do so, I desire you to return the Letter I writ this fatal Night, the Resolution it contain’d will serve to remind me of my shameful Breach of it.
Madam (answer’d he coldly, but with great Complaisance) you have said enough to make a Lover less obedient, refuse; but because I am sensible of the Accidents that happen to Letters, and to shew that I can never be repugnant even to the most rigorous of your Commands, I shall make no scruple in fulfilling this, and trust to your Goodness for the re-settling me in your Esteem, when next you make me so happy as to see you. The formality of this Compliment touch’d her to the Quick, and the thought of what she was like to suffer on his account, fill’d her with so just an Anger, that as soon as she got the Letter, she knock’d hastily at the Gate, which being immediately open’d, broke off any further Discourse, she went in, and he departed to his Lodging, ruminating on every Circumstance of this Affair, and consulting with himself how he shou’d proceed. Alovisa (for it was her House which Amena by a whimsical effect of Chance had made choice of for her Sanctuary) was no sooner told her Rival was come to speak with her, but she fell into all the Raptures that successful Malice could inspire, she was already inform’d of part of this Night’s Adventure; for the cunning Charlo who by her Orders had been a diligent Spy on Count D’elmont’s Actions, and as constant an Attendant on him as his shadow, had watch’d him to Monsieur Sanseverin’s Garden, seen him enter, and afterwards come with Amena into the Tuilleries; where perceiving ’em Seated, ran Home, and brought his Lady an Account; Rage, Jealousie and Envy working their usual Effects in her; at this News, made her promise the Fellow infinite Rewards if he would invent some Stratagem to separate ’em, which he undertaking to do, occasion’d her being up so late, impatiently waiting his return; she went down to receive her with great Civility, mix’d with a feign’d surprize to see her at such an Hour, and in such a Dishabilee; which the other answering ingeniously, and freely letting her into the whole Secret, not only of her Amour, but the coldness she observ’d in D’elmont’s Behaviour at parting, fill’d this cruel Woman with so exquisite a Joy, as she was hardly capable of dissembling; therefore to get liberty to indulge it, and to learn the rest of the particulars of Charlo, who she heard was come in, she told Amena she would have her go to Bed, and endeavour to compose her self, and that she would send for Monsieur Sanseverin in the Morning, and endeavour to reconcile him to her. I will also added she, with a deceitful smile, see the Count D’elmont, and talk to him in a manner as shall make him truly sensible of his Happiness; nay, so far my Friendship shall extend, that if there be any real Cause for making your Amour a Secret, he shall see you at my House, and pass for a Visitor of mine; I have no body to whom I need be accountable for my Actions and am above the Censures of the World. Amena, thank’d her in Terms full of gratitude, and went with the Maid, whom Alovisa had order’d to conduct her to a Chamber prepar’d for her; as soon as she had got rid of her, she call’d for Charlo, impatient to hear by what contrivance this lucky Chance had befallen her. Madam, said, he, tho’ I form’d a thousand Inventions, I found not any so plausible, as to alarm Monsieur Sanseverin’s Family, with an out-cry of Fire. Therefore I rang the Bell at the fore-gate of the House, and bellow’d in the most terrible accent I could possible turn my Voice to, Fire, Fire, rise, or you will all be burnt in your Beds. I had not repeated this many times, before I found the Effect I wish’d; the Noises I heard, and the Lights I saw in the Rooms, assur’d me there were no Sleepers left; then I ran to the Tuilleries, designing to observe the Lover’s proceedings, but I found they were appriz’d of the Danger they were in, of being discover’d, and were coming to endeavour an entrance into the Garden. I know the rest, interrupted Alovisa, the Event has answer’d even beyond my Wishes, and thy Reward for this good Service shall be greater than thy Expectations. As she said these Words she retir’d to her Chamber, more satisfy’d than she had been for many Months. Quite different did poor Amena pass the Night, for besides the grief of having disoblig’d her Father, banish’d her self his House, and expos’d her Reputation to the unavoidable Censures of the unpitying World; for an ungrateful, or at best an indifferent Lover. She receiv’d a vast addition of Afflictions, when taking out the Letter which D’elmont had given her at parting, possible to weep over it; and accuse her self for so inconsiderately breaking the noble Resolution she had form’d, when it was writ. She found it was Alovisa’s Hand, for the Count by mistake had given her the second he receiv’d from that Lady, instead of that she desir’d him to return. Never was Surprize, Confusion, and Dispair at such a height, as in Amena’s Soul at this Discovery; she was now assur’d by what she read, that she had fled for Protection to the very Person she ought most to have avoided; that she had made a Confident of her greatest Enemy, a Rival dangerous to her Hopes in every Circumstance. She consider’d the High Birth and vast Possessions that Alovisa was Mistress of in opposition to her Father’s scanted Power of making her a Fortune. Her Wit and Subtilty against her Innocence and Simplicity: her Pride, and the respect her grandeur commanded from the World, against her own deplor’d and wretch’d State, and look’d upon her self as wholly lost. The violence of her Sorrow is more easily imagin’d than express’d; but of all her melancholy Reflections, none rack’d her equal to the belief she had that D’elmont was not unsensible by this time whom the Letter came from, and had only made a Court to her to amuse himself a while, and then suffer her to fall a Sacrifice to his Ambition, and feed the Vanity of her Rival; a just Indignation now open’d the Eyes of her Understanding, and considering all the Passages of the Count’s Behaviour, she saw a thousand Things which told her, his Designs on her were far unworthy of the Name of Love. None that were ever touch’d with the least of those Passions which agitated the Soul of Amena, can believe they would permit Sleep to enter her Eyes: But if Grief and Distraction kept her from repose; Alovisa had too much Business on her Hands to enjoy much more; She had promis’d Amena to send for her Father, and the Count, and found there were not too many Moments before Morning, to contrive so many different forms of Behaviour, as should deceive ’em all three, compleat the Ruin of her Rival, and engage the Addresses of her Lover; as soon as she thought it a proper Hour, she dispatch’d a Messenger to Count D’elmont, and another to Monsieur Sanseverin, who full of Sorrow as he was, immediately obey’d her Summons. She receiv’d him in her Dressing-room, and with a great deal of feign’d Trouble in her Countenance, accosted him in this manner. How hard is it, said she, to dissemble Grief, and in spite of all the Care, which I doubt not you have taken to conceal it, in consideration of your own, and Daughter’s Honour, I too plainly perceive it in your Face to imagine that my own is hid: How, Madam, cry’d the impatient Father, (then giving a loose to his Tears) are you acquainted then with my Misfortune? Alas, answer’d she, I fear by the Consequences you have been the last to whom it has been reveal’d. I hop’d that my Advice, and the daily Proofs the Count gave your Daughter of the little regard he had for her, might have fir’d her to a generous Disdain, and have a thousand Pardons to ask of you for Breach of Friendship, in concealing an Affair so requisite you should have known: Oh! Madam resum’d he, interrupting her, I conjure you make no Apologies for what is past, I know too well the greatness of your goodness, and the favour you have always been pleas’d to Honour her with; not to be assur’d she was happy in your Esteem, and only beg I may no longer be kept in Ignorance of the fatal Secret. You shall be inform’d of all, said she, but then you must promise me to Act by my Advice; which he having promis’d, she told him after what manner Amena came to her House, the coldness the Count express’d to her, and the violence of her Passion for him. Now, said she, if you should suffer your rage to break out in any publick Manner against the Count, it will only serve to make your Daughter’s Dishonour the Table-Talk of all Paris. He is too great at Court, and has too many Friends to be compell’d to any Terms for your Satisfaction; besides, the least noise might make him discover by what means he first became acquainted with her, and her excessive, I will not say troublesome fondness of him, since; which should he do, the shame wou’d be wholly her’s, for few wou’d condemn him for accepting the offer’d Caresses of a Lady so young and beautiful as Amena. But is it possible, cry’d he (quite confounded at these Words) that she should stoop so low to offer Love. Oh Heavens! Is this the Effect of all my Prayers, my Care, and my Indulgence. Doubt not, resum’d Alovisa, of the Truth of what I say, I have it from herself, and to convince you it is so, I shall inform you of something I had forgot before. Then she told him of the Note she had slip’d into the Letter he had forc’d her to write, and of sending Anaret to his Lodgings, which she heighten’d with all the aggravating Circumstances her Wit and Malice cou’d suggest; till the old Man believing all she said as an Oracle, was almost senseless between Grief and Anger; but the latter growing rather the most predominant, he vow’d to punish her in such a manner as should deter all Children from Disobedience. Now, said Alovisa, it is, that I expect the performance of your Promise; these threats avail but little to the retrieving your Daughter’s Reputation, or your quiet; be therefore perswaded to make no Words of it, compose your Countenance as much as possible to serenity, and think if you have no Friend in any Monastry where you could send her till this Discourse, and her own foolish Folly be blown over. If you have not, I can recommend you to one at St. Dennis where the Abbess is my near Relation, and on my Letter will use her with all imaginable Tenderness. Monsieur was extreamly pleas’d at this Proposal, and gave her those thanks the seeming kindness of her offer deserv’d. I would not, resum’d she, have you take her Home, or see her before she goes; or if you do, not till all things are ready for her Departure, for I know she will be prodigal of her Promises of Amendment, ’till she has prevail’d with your Fatherly Indulgence to permit her stay at Paris, and know as well she will not have the Power to keep ’em in the same Town with the Count. She shall, if you please, remain conceal’d in my House, ’till you have provided for her Journey, and it will be a great Means to put a stop to any farther Reflections the malicious may make on her; if you give out she is already gone to some Relations in the Country. As she was speaking, Charlo came to acquaint her, one was come to visit her. She made no doubt but ’twas D’elmont, therefore hasten’d away Monsieur Sanseverin, after having fix’d him in a Resolution to do every thing as she advis’d. It was indeed Count D’elmont that was come, which as soon as she was assur’d of, she threw off her dejected and mournful Air, and assum’d one all Gaiety and good Humour, dimpl’d her Mouth with Smiles, and call’d the laughing Cupids to her Eyes.
My Lord, said she, you do well by this early visit to retrieve your Sexes drooping fame of Constancy, and prove the nicety of Amena’s discernment, in conferring favours on a Person, who to his excellent Qualifications, has that of assiduity to deserve them; as he was about to reply, the rush of somebody coming hastily down the Stairs which faced the Room they were in, oblig’d ’em to turn that way. It was the unfortunate Amena, who not being able to endure the Thoughts of staying in her Rivals House, distracted with her Griefs, and not regarding what should become of her, as soon as she heard the Doors were open, was preparing to fly from that detested Place. Alovisa was vex’d to the Heart at the sight of her, hoping to have had some Discourse with the Count before they met; but she dissembled it, and catching hold of her as she was endeavouring to pass, ask’d where she was going, and what occasion’d the Disorder she observ’d in her. I go, (answer’d Amena) from a false Lover, and a falser Friend, but why shou’d I upbraid you (continu’d she looking wildly sometimes on the Count, and sometimes on Alovisa) Treacherous Pair, you know too well each others Baseness, and my Wrongs; no longer then, detain a Wretch whose Presence, had you the least Sense of Honour, Gratitude, or even common Humanity, wou’d fill your Consciences with Remorse and Shame; and who has now no other wish, than that of shunning you for ever. As she spoke this, she struggled to get loose from Alovisa’s Arms, who, in spite of the Amazement she was in, still held her. D’elmont was no less confounded, and intirely ignorant of the Meaning of what he heard, was at a loss how to reply, ’till she resum’d her reproaches in this manner: Why, ye Monsters of barbarity, said she, do you delight in beholding the Ruins you have made? Is not the knowledge of my Miseries, my everlasting Miseries, sufficient to content you? And must I be debarr’d that only Remedy for Woes like mine? Death! Oh cruel Return for all my Love, my Friendship! and the confidence I repos’d in you. Oh! to what am I reduc’d by my too soft and easie Nature, hard fate of tenderness, which healing others, only wounds it’s self.-----Just Heavens!------here she stopp’d, the violence of her Resentment, endeavouring to vent it self in sighs, rose in her Breast with such an impetuosity as choak’d the Passage of her Words, and she fell in a Swoon. Tho’ the Count, and Alovisa were both in the greatest Consternation imaginable, yet neither of ’em were negligent in trying to Recover her; as they were busi’d about her, that fatal Letter which had been the Cause of this Disturbance, fell out of her Bosom, and both being eager to take it up (believing it might make some discovery) had their Hands on it at the same time; it was but slightly folded, and immediately shew’d ’em from what source Amena’s despair proceeded: Her upbraidings of Alovisa, and the Blushes and Confusion which he observed in that Ladies Face, as soon as ever she saw it open’d, put an end to the Mistery, and one less quick of Apprehension than D’elmont, wou’d have made no difficulty in finding his unknown Admirer in the Person of Alovisa: She, to conceal the Disorder she was in at this Adventure as much as possible, call’d her Women, and order’d ’em to Convey Amena into another Chamber where there was more Air; as she was preparing to follow, turning a little towards the Count. but still extreamly confus’d, you’ll Pardon, me, my Lord, said she, if my concern for my Friend obliges me to leave you. Ah Madam, reply’d he, forbear to make any Apologies to me, rather Summon all your goodness to forgive a Wretch so blind to happiness as I have been: She either cou’d not, or wou’d not make any answer to these Words, but seeming as tho’ she heard ’em not, went hastily into the Room where Amena was, leaving the Count full of various and confus’d Reflections; the sweetness of his Disposition made him regret his being the Author of Amena’s Misfortunes, but how miserable is that Woman’s Condition, who by her Mismanagement is reduc’d to so poor a Comfort as the pity of her Lover; that Sex is generally too Gay to continue long uneasy, and there was little likelihood he cou’d be capable of lamenting Ills, which his small Acquaintance with the Passion from which they sprung, made him not comprehend. The pleasure the Discovery gave him of a Secret he had so long desir’d to find out, kept him from being too much concern’d at the Adventure that occasion’d it; but he could not forbear accusing himself of intollerable Stupidity, when he consider’d the Passages of Alovisa’s Behaviour, her swooning at the Ball, her constant Glances, her frequent Blushes when he talk’d to her, and all his Cogitations whether on Alovisa, or Amena, were mingled with a wonder that Love should have such Power. The diversity of his Thoughts wou’d have entertain’d him much longer, if they had not been interrupted by his Page, who came in a great hurry, to acquaint him, that his Brother, the young Chevalier Brillian was just come to Town, and waited with Impatience for his coming Home: As much a Stranger as D’elmont was to the Affairs of Love, he was none to those of Friendship, and making no doubt but that the former ought to yield to the latter in every respect; contented himself with telling one of Alovisa’s Servants, as he went out, that he wou’d wait on her in the Evening, and made what hast he cou’d to give his beloved Brother the welcome he expected after so long an absence; and indeed the manner of their Meeting, express’d a most intire and sincere Affection on both sides. The Chevalier was but a Year younger than the Count, they had been bred together from their Infancy, and there was such a sympathy in their Souls, and so great a Resemblance in their Persons, as very much contributed to endear ’em to each other with a Tenderness far beyond that which is ordinarily found among Relations. After the first Testimonies of it were over, D’elmont began to Question him how he had pass’d his Time since their Separation, and to give him some little Reproaches for not writing so often as he might have Expected. Alas! my dearest Brother, reply’d the Chevalier, such various Adventures have hap’ned to me since we parted, as when I relate ’em, will I hope excuse my seeming Negligence; these Words were accompany’d with Sighs, and a Melancholly Air immediately overspreading his Face, and taking away great part of the Vivacity, which lately sparkled in his Eyes, rais’d an impatient Desire in the Count to know the Reason of it, which when he had express’d, the other (after having engag’d him, that whatever Causes he might find to ridicule his Folly, he wou’d suspend all appearance of it till the end of his Narration) began to satisfy in this Manner.
THE
STORY
OF THE
Chevalier Brillian.
At St. Omers, where you left me, I happen’d to make an Acquaintance with one Monsieur Belpine, a Gentleman who was there on some Business; we being both pretty much Strangers in the Place, occasion’d an Intimacy between us, which the disparity of our Tempers, wou’d have prevented our Commencing at Paris; but you know I was never a lover of Solitude, and for want of Company more agreeable, was willing to encourage his. He was indeed so obliging as to stay longer at St. Omers then his Affairs required, purposely to engage me to make Amiens in my way to Paris. He was very Vain, and fancying himself happy in the esteem of the fair Sex, was desirous I should be witness of the Favours they bestow’d on him. Among the Number of those he used to talk of, was Madamoiselle Ansellina de la Tour, a Parisian Lady, and Heiress of a great Estate, but had been some time at Amiens with Madam the Baroness de Beronville her God-Mother. The Wonders he told me of this young Lady’s Wit, and Beauty, inclin’d me to a desire of seeing her; and as soon as I was in a Condition to Travel, we took our Way towards Amiens, he us’d me with all the Friendship he was capable of expressing; and soon after we arriv’d, carry’d me to the Baronesses: But oh Heavens! How great was my Astonishment when I found Ansellina as far beyond his faint Description, as the Sun Beams the Imitation of Art; besides the regularity of her Features, the delicacy of her Complexion, and the just Simmetry of her whole Composition, she has an undescribable Sweetness that plays about her Eyes and Mouth, and softens all her Air: But all her Charms, dazling as they are, would have lost their captivating Force on me, if I had believ’d her capable of that weakness for Belpine, that his Vanity would have me think. She is very Young and Gay, and I easily perceiv’d she suffer’d his Addresses more out of Diversion then any real Regard she had for him; he held a constant Correspondence at Paris, and was continually furnish’d with every thing that was Novel, and by that means introduc’d himself into many Companies, who else wou’d not have endured him; but when at any time I was so happy as to entertain the lovely Ansellina alone, and we had Opportunity for serious Discourse, (which was impossible in his Company) I found that she was Mistress of a Wit, Poynant enough to be Satyrical, yet it was accompanied with a Discretion as very much heighten’d her Charms, and compleated the Conquest that her Eyes begun. I will confess to you, Brother, that I became so devoted to my Passion, that I had no leisure for any other Sentiments. Fears, Hopes, Anxities, jealous Pains, uneasie Pleasures, all the Artillery of Love, were garrison’d in my Heart, and a thousand various half form’d Resolutions fill’d my Head. Ansellina’s insensibility among a Crow’d of Admirers, and the disparity of our Fortunes, wou’d have given me just Causes of Despair, if the Generosity of her Temper had not dissipated the one, and her Youth, and the hope her Hour was not yet come, the other. I was often about letting her know the Power she had over me, but something of an awe which none but those who truly Love can guess at, still prevented my being able to utter it, and I believ’d should have languish’d ’till this Moment in an unavailing silence, if an accident had not hapen’d to embolden me: I went one Day to visit my Adorable, and being told she was in the Garden, went thither in hopes to see her, but being deceiv’d in my Expectation, believ’d the Servant who gave me that Information was mistaken, and fancying she might be retir’d to her Closet, as she very often did in an Afternoon, and the pleasantness of the Place inducing me to stay there till she was willing to admit me. I sat down at the Foot of a DIANA, curiously carv’d in Marble, and full of melancholy Reflections without knowing what I did, took a black lead Pen out of my Pocket, and writ on the Pedestal these two Lines.