Camilla.
P.S. Since I writ this, a Fancy came into my Head, that if you cou’d find a Friend Trusty enough to confide in, and one unknown to our Family, he might gain admittance to me in Cittolini’s Name, as sent by him, while he is at the Villa. I flatter my self you will take as much pleasure in endeavouring to let me hear from you, as I do in the hope of it. Once more Adieu.
Your Lordship may judge, by what I have told you of the Sincerity of my Passion, how glad I should have been to have comply’d with her Request, but it was utterly impossible to find any body fit for such a Business: I pass’d three or four Days more, in Disquietudes too great to be exprest; I saunter’d up and down the Street where she liv’d, in hopes to see her at some of the Windows, but Fortune never was so favourable to me, thus I spent my Days, and left the sight of those dear Walls at Nights, but in obedience to the Charge she had given me of preserving my Life.
Thus, my Lord, has the business of my Love engrossed my Hours, ever since your Lordships arrival, and tho’ I heard that you were here, and extreamly wish’d to kiss your Hands, yet I cou’d never get one Moment compos’d enough to wait on you in, ’till what my Desires cou’d not do, the rashness of my Indignation effected: Last Night, being at my Bankers where all my Bills and Letters are directed, I found this, from Monsieur Sanseverin, the Rage which the Contents of it put me in, kept me from remembring that Circumspection, which Camilla had enjoyn’d, and I thought of nothing but revenging the injury I imagin’d you had done me: As I was coming Home, I was attack’d as you saw, when you so generously preserv’d me, the just Indignation I conceiv’d at this base procedure of Cittolini’s transported me so far, as to make me forget what I owed to my Deliverer, to run in pursuit of those who assaulted me, but soon lost sight of them, and returning, as Gratitude and Honour call’d me, to seek, and thank you for your timely Assistance, I found a Throng of People about the Body of the Villain I had killed, some of them were for Examining me, but finding no Wounds about me, nor any marks of the Engagement I had been in, I was left at my Liberty.
Thus, my Lord, have I given you, in as brief a manner as the Changes of my Fortune wou’d permit, the Account of my present melancholly Circumstances, in which, if you find many things blameable, you must acknowledge there are more which require Compassion.
I see no Reason, answer’d the Count, either for the one or the other, you have done nothing but what any Man who is a Lover, wou’d gladly have it in his Power to do, and as for your Condition, it certainly is more to be envy’d than pity’d: The Lady loves, is Constant, and doubtless will some way or other, find means for her Escape,----Impossible! Cry’d Frankville, interrupting him, she is too strictly watch’d to suffer such a Hope. If you will prepare a Letter, resum’d D’elmont, my self will undertake to be the Bearer of it; I am entirely a Stranger to the People you have been speaking of, or if I should chance to be known to them, cannot be suspected to come from you, since our Intimacy, so lately born, cannot yet be talk’d of, to the prejudice of our Design; and how do you know, continu’d he smiling, but, if I have the good Fortune to be introduc’d to this Lady, that I shall not be able to assist her Invention to form some Scheme, for both your future Happiness. This offer was too agreeable to be refus’d, Frankville accepted it with all the Demonstrations of Gratitude and Joy imaginable, and setting himself down to the Count’s Scrutore, was not long Writing the following Billet which he gave him to read before he seal’d it.
To the most Lovely and Adorable Camilla.
“If to consume with inward Burnings, to have no Breath but Sighs, to wish for Death, or Madness to relieve me from the racks of Thought, be Misery consummate, such is mine! And yet my too unjust Camilla thinks I feel no Pain, and chides my cold Tranquility; cou’d I be so, I were indeed a Wretch deserving of my nate, but far unworthy of your Pity or Regard. No, no, thou Loveliest, Softest, most angelic Creature, that Heaven, in lavish Bounty, ever sent to charm the adoring World; he that cou’d know one Moments stupid Calm in such an Absence, ought never to be blest with those unbounded Joys thy Presence brings: What wou’d I not give, what wou’d I not hazard but once more to behold thee, to gaze upon thy Eyes, those Suns of kindling Transports! to touch thy enlivening Hand! to feed upon the ravishing sweetness of thy Lips! Oh the Imagination’s Extacy! Life were too poor to set on such a Cast, and you shou’d long e’re this, have prov’d the little Value I have for it, in competition with my Love if your Commands had not restrain’d me. Cittolini’s Malice, however, had last Night been gratify’d, if the Noble Count D’elmont had not been inspir’d for my Preservation, it is to him I am indebted, not only for my Life, but a much greater Favour, that of conveying to you the Assurance, how much my Life, my Soul, and all the Faculties of it are eternally Yours. Thank him, my Camilla, for your Frankville, for Words like thine are only fit to Praise, as it deserves, such an exalted Generosity; ’tis with an infinite deal of Satisfaction I reflect how much thy Charms will justify my Conduct when he sees thee, all that excess of Passion, which my fond Soul’s too full of to conceal, that height of Adoration, which offer’d to any other Woman wou’d be Sacriledge, the wonders of thy Beauty and thy Wit, claim as their due, and prove Camilla, like Heaven, can never be too much Reverenc’d! Be too much Lov’d!----But, Oh! How poor is Language to express what ’tis I think, thus Raptur’d with thy Idea, thou best, thou Brightest----thou most Perfect----thou something more than Excellence it self--thou far surpassing all that Words can speak, or Heart, unknowing thee, conceive: yet I cou’d dwell for ever on the Theme, and swell whole Volumes with enervate, tho’ well-meaning Praises, if my Impatience, to have what I have already writ, be with you, did not prevent my saying any more than, that but in you I live, nor cou’d support this Death-like absence, but for some little intervals of Hope, which sometimes flatter me, that Fortune will grow weary of persecuting me, and one Day re-unite my Body to my Soul and make both inseparably Yours,
Frankville.”