These new made Friends having a fellow-feeling of each others Sufferings, as proceeding from one Source, pass’d the time in little else but amorous Discourses, till it was a proper Hour for the Count to perform his Promise, and taking a full Direction from Frankville how to find the House, he left him at his Lodgings to wait his return from Ciamara’s, forming, all the way he went, a thousand Projects to communicate to Camilla for her Escape, he was still extreamly uneasy in his Mind concerning Melliora, and long’d to be in Paris to know the Truth of that Affair, but thought he cou’d not in Honour leave her Brother in this Embarrassment, and resolv’d to make use of all his Wit and Address to perswade Camilla to hazard every thing for Love, and was not a little pleas’d with the Imagination, that he should lay so considerable an obligation on Melliora, as this Service to her Brother wou’d be. Full of these Reflections he found himself in the Portico of that magnificent House he was to enter, and seeing a Crowd of Servants about the Door, desir’d to be brought to the presence of Donna Camilla Fialaso, one of them, immediately conducted him into a stately Room, and leaving him there, told him, the Lady shou’d be made acquainted with his Request; presently after came in a Woman, who, tho’ very Young, seem’d to be in the nature of a Duenna, the Count stood with his Back toward her as she enter’d, but hearing somebody behind him, and turning hastily about, he observ’d she startled at sight of him, and appear’d so confus’d that he knew not what to make of her Behaviour, and when he ask’d if he might speak with Camilla, and said he had a Message to deliver from Cittolini, she made no other Answer than several times, with an amaz’d Accent, Ecchoing the names of Camilla and Cittolini, as if not able to comprehend his Meaning; he was oblig’d to repeat his Words over and over before she cou’d recollect herself enough to tell him, that she wou’d let him know her Lady’s pleasure instantly. She left him in a good deal of Consternation, at the Surprize he perceiv’d the Sight of him had put her into, he form’d a thousand uncertain Guesses what the occasion shou’d be, but the Mistery was too deep for all his Penetration to fathom, and he waited with abundance of Impatience for her return, or the appearance of her Lady, either, of which, he hop’d, might give a Solution to this seeming Riddle.
He attended a considerable time, and was beginning to grow excessive uneasy, at this Delay, when a magnificent Anti-porta being drawn up, he saw thro’ a Glass Door, which open’d into a Gallery, the Duenna approaching: She had now entirely compos’d her Countenance, and with an obliging Smile told him, she wou’d conduct him to her Lady. She led him thro’ several Rooms, all richly furnish’d and adorn’d, but far inferior to the last he came into, and in which he was again left alone, after being assur’d that he should not long be so.
Count D’elmont cou’d not forbear giving Truce to his more serious Reflections, to admire the Beauties of the Place he was in; where e’er he turn’d his Eyes, he saw nothing but was splendidly Luxurious, and all the Ornaments contriv’d in such a manner, as might fitly be a Pattern, to Paint the Palace of the Queen of Love by: The Ceiling was vastly high and beautify’d with most curious Paintings, the Walls were cover’d with Tapestry, in which, most artificially were woven, in various colour’d Silk, intermix’d with Gold and Silver, a great number of Amorous Stories; in one Place he beheld a Naked Venus sporting with Adonis, in another, the Love transform’d Jupiter, just resuming his Shape, and rushing to the Arms of Leda; there, the seeming Chast Diana Embracing her entranc’d Endimion; here, the God of soft Desires himself, wounded with an Arrow of his own, and snatching Kisses from the no less enamour’d Psiche: betwixt every one of these Pieces hung a large Looking-Glass, which reach’d to the top of the Room, and out of each sprung several crystal Branches, containing great Wax-Tapers, so that the number of Lights vy’d with the Sun, and made another, and more glorious Day, than that which lately was withdrawn. At the upper End of this magnificent Chamber, there was a Canopy of Crimson Velvet, richly emboss’d, and trim’d with Silver, the Corners of which were supported by two golden Cupids, with stretch’d out Wings, as if prepar’d to fly; two of their Hands grasp’d the extremity of the Valen, and the other, those nearest to each other, joyn’d to hold a wreath of Flowers, over a Couch, which stood under the Canopy. But tho’ the Count was very much taken at first with what he saw, yet he was too sincere a Lover to be long delighted with any thing in the absence of his Mistress: How Heavenly (said he to himself Sighing) wou’d be this Place, if I expected Melliora here! But Oh! how preferable were a Cottage blest with her, to all this Pomp and Grandeur with any other; this Consideration threw him into a deep Musing, which made him forget either where he was, or the Business which brought him there, till rous’d from it by the dazling Owner of this sumptuous Apartment. Nothing could be more glorious than her Appearance; she was by Nature, a Woman of a most excellent Shape, to which, her desire of Pleasing, had made her add all the aids of Art; she was drest in a Gold and Silver stuff Petticoat, and a Wastcoat of plain blew Sattin, set round the Neck and Sleeves, and down the Seams with Diamonds, and fastned on the Breast, with Jewels of a prodigeous largeness and lustre; a Girdle of the same encompass’d her Waste; her Hair, of which she had great quantity, was black as Jet, and with a studied Negligence, fell part of it on her Neck in careless Ringlets, and the other was turn’d up, and fasten’d here and there with Bodkins, which had pendant Diamonds hanging to ’em, and as she mov’d, glittered with a quivering Blaze, like Stars darting their fires from out a sable Sky; she had a Vail on, but so thin, that it did not, in the least, obscure the shine of her Garments, or her Jewels, only she had contriv’d to double that part of it which hung over her Face, in so many folds, that it serv’d to conceal her as well as a Vizard Mask.
The Count made no doubt but this was the Lady for whom he waited, and throwing off that melancholly Air he had been in, assum’d one, all gay and easy, and bowing low, as he advanc’d to meet her; Madam, said he, if you are that incomparable Camilla, whose Goodness nothing but her Beauty can equalize, you will forgive the intrusion of a Stranger, who confesses himself no other way worthy of the Honour of your Conversation, but by his Desires to serve him who is much more so: A Friend of Cittolini’s, answer’d she, can never want admittance here, and if you had no other Plea, the Name you come in, is a sufficient Warrant for your kind Reception: I hope, resum’d he in a low Voice, and looking round to see if there were no Attendants in hearing, I bring a Better, from Frankville, Madam, the adoring Frankville, I have these Credentials to Justify my Visit; in speaking this, he deliver’d the Letter to her, which she retiring a few Paces from him to read, gave him an opportunity of admiring the Majesty of her Walk, and the agreeable loftiness of her Mein, much more than he had time to do before.
She dwelt not long on the Contents of the Letter, but throwing it carelesly down on a Table which stood near her, turn’d to the Count, and with an Accent which express’d not much Satisfaction; and was it to you, my Lord! said she, that Monsieur Frankville ow’d his Preservation? I was so happy, reply’d he, to have some little hand in it, but since I have known how dear he is to you, think my self doubly blest by Fortune for the means of acting any thing conducive to your Peace: If you imagine that this is so, resum’d she hastily, you are extreamly mistaken, as you will always be, when you believe, where Count D’elmont appears, any other Man seems worthy the regard of a discerning Woman; but, continu’d she, perceiving he look’d surpriz’d, to spare your suspence, and my self the trouble of repeating what you know already, behold who she is, you have been talking to, and tell me now, if Frankville has any Interest in a Heart to which this Face belongs? With these Words she threw off her Vail, and instead of lessening his Amazement, very much encreas’d it, in discovering the Features of the Lady, with whom he had discoursed the Night before in the Garden, He knew not what to think, or how to reconcile to Reason, that Camilla, who so lately lov’d, and had granted the highest Favours to Frankville, shou’d on a sudden be willing, uncourted, to bestow them on another, nor cou’d he comprehend how the same Person shou’d at once live in two several Places, for he conceiv’d the House he was in, was far distant from the Garden which he had been in the Night before.
They both remain’d for some Moments in a profound Silence, the Lady expecting when the Count shou’d speak, and he endeavouring to recollect himself enough to do so, ’till she, at last, possibly guessing at his Thoughts, resum’d her Discourse in this manner: My Lord, said she, wonder not at the Power of Love, a Form like yours might soften the most rugged Heart, much more one, by Nature so tender as is mine.----Think but what you are, continu’d she sighing, and making him sit down by her on the Couch, and you will easily excuse whatever my Passion may enforce me to commit. I must confess Madam, answer’d he very gravely, I never in my Life wanted presence of mind so much as at this juncture, to see before me here, the Person, who, I believ’d, liv’d far from hence, who, by Appointment, I was to wait on this Night at a different Place.----To find in the Mistress of my Friend, the very Lady, who seems unworthily to have bestow’d her Heart on me, are Circumstances so Incoherent, as I can neither account for, or make evident to Reason, tho’ they are too truly so to Sense: It will be easy, reply’d she, to reconcile both these seeming Contradictions, when you shall know that the Gardens belonging to this House, are of a very large Extent, and not only that, but the turning of the Streets are so order’d, as make the Distance between the fore, and back Door appear much greater than really it is: And for the other, as I have already told you, you ought to be better acquainted with your self, than to be surpriz’d at Consequences which must infallibly attend such Charms: In saying this, she turn’d her Head a little on one side, and put her Handkerchief before her Face, affecting to seem confus’d at what she spoke; but the Count redned in good Earnest, and with a Countenance which express’d Sentiments, far different from those she endeavour’d to Inspire: Madam, said he, tho’ the good Opinion you have of me is owing entirely to the Error of your Fancy, which too often, especially in your Sex, blinds the Judgment, yet, ’tis certain, that there are not many Men, whom such Praises, coming from a Mouth like yours, wou’d not make Happy and Vain; but if I was ever of a Humour to be so, it is now wholly mortify’d in me, and ’tis but with the utmost regret, that I must receive the Favours you confer on me to the prejudice of my Friend: And is that, interrupted she hastily, is that the only Cause? Does nothing but your Friendship to Frankville prevent my Wishes? That, of itself, answer’d he, were a sufficient Bar to sunder us for ever, but there’s another, if not a greater, a more tender one, which, to restore you to the Path, which Honour, Gratitude, and Reason call you to, I must inform you of, yes, I must tell you, Madam, all lovely as you are, that were there no such Man as Frankville, in the World,----were you as free as Air, I have a defence within, which all your Charms can never pierce, nor softness melt---I am already bound, not with the weak Ties of Vows or formal Obligations, which confine no farther than the Body, but Inclination!----the fondest Inclination! That ever swell’d a Heart with Rapturous Hopes: The Lady had much ado to contain herself till he had done speaking; she was by Nature extreamly Haughty, Insolent of her Beauty, and impatient of any thing she thought look’d like a flight of it, and this open Defyance of her Power, and acknowledging anothers, had she been less in Love wou’d have been insupportable to her: Ungrateful and uncourtly Man, said she, looking on him with Eyes that sparkled at once with Indignation and Desire, you might have spar’d yourself the trouble of Repeating, and me the Confusion of hearing, in what manner you stand Engag’d, it had been enough to have told me you never cou’d be mine, without appearing transported at the Ruin which you make; if my too happy Rival possesses Charms, I cannot boast, methinks your good Manners might have taught you, not to insult my Wants, and your good Nature, to have mingled Pity with your Justice; with these Words she fell a Weeping, but whether they were Tears of Love or Anger, is hard to determine, ’tis certain that both those Passions rag’d this Moment in her Soul with equal Violence, and if she had had it in her Power, wou’d doubtless have been glad to have hated him, but he was, at all times, too lovely to suffer a possibility of that, and much more so at this, for in spite of the Shock, that Infidelity he believ’d her guilty of to Frankville, gave him; he was by Nature so Compassionate, he felt the Woes he saw, or heard of, even of those who were most indifferent to him, and cou’d not now behold a Face, in which all the Horrors of Despair were in the most lively manner represented, without displaying a Tenderness in his, which in any other Man, might have been taken for Love; the dazling Radience of his Eyes, gave place to a more dangerous, more bewitching softness, and when he sigh’d, in Pity of her Anguish, a Soul Inchanting Languishment diffus’d itself thro’ all his Air, and added to his Graces; she presently perceiv’d it, and forming new Hopes, as well from that, as from his Silence, took hold of his Hand, and pressing it eagerly to her Bosom, Oh my Lord! resum’d she, you cannot be ungrateful if you wou’d,----I feel you cannot----Madam, interrupted he, shaking off as much possible that show of Tenderness, which he found had given her Incouragement; I wish not to convince you how nearly I am touch’d, with what you suffer, lest it shou’d encrease an Esteem, which, since prejudicial to your Repose, and the Interest of my Friend; I rather ought to endeavour to lessen.----But, as this is not the Entertainment I expected from Camilla, I beg to know an Answer of the Business I came upon, and what you decree for the unfortunate Frankville: If the Lady was agitated with an extremity of Vexation at the Count’s Declaration of his Passion for another, what was she now, at this Disappointment of the Hopes she was so lately flatter’d with! instead of making any direct reply to what he said, she rag’d, stamp’d, tore her Hair, curs’d Frankville, all Mankind, the World, and in that height of Fury, scarce spar’d Heaven itself; but the violence of her Pride and Resentment being a little vented, Love took his turn, again she wept, again she prest his Hand, nay she even knelt and hung upon his Feet, as he wou’d have broke from her, and beg’d him with Words as eloquent as Wit cou’d Form, and desperate dying Love Suggest, to pity and relieve her Misery: But he had now learn’d to dissemble his Concern, lest it shou’d a second time beguile her, and after raising her, with as careless and unmov’d an Air, as he was capable of putting on: My Presence, Madam, said he, but augments your Disorder, and ’tis only by seeing you no more, that I am qualify’d to conduce to the recovery of your Peace: With these Words he turn’d hastily from her, and was going out of the Room, when she, quick as Thought, sprung from the Place where she had stood, and being got between him and the Door, and throwing her self into his Arms, before he had time to prevent her; you must not, shall not go, she cry’d, till you have left me dead: Pardon me, Madam, answer’d he fretfully, and struggling to get loose from her Embrace, to stay after the Discovery you have made of your Sentiments, were to be guilty of an Injustice almost equal to your’s, therefore I beg you’d give me liberty to pass.----Hear me but speak, resum’d she, grasping him yet harder; return but for a Moment,----lovely Barbarian,----Hell has no torments like your Cruelty. Here, the different Passions working in her Soul, with such uncommon Vehemence, hurry’d her Spirits beyond what Nature cou’d Support; her Voice faulter’d in the Accent, her trembling Hands by slow degrees relinquish’d what so eagerly they had held, every Sense forgot its Use, and she sunk, in all appearance, lifeless on the Floor. The Count was, if possible, more glad to be releas’d, than griev’d at the occasion, and contented himself with calling her Women to her Assistance, without staying to see when she wou’d recover.
He went out of that House with Thoughts much more discompos’d than those with which he had entered it, and when he came Home, where Frankville impatiently waited his Return, he was at the greatest loss in the World, how to discover his Misfortune to him; the other observing the trouble of his Mind, which was very visible in his Countenance; my Lord, said he, in a melancholly Tone, I need not ask you what Success, the gloom which appears on your Brow, tells me, my ill Fortune has deny’d you the means of speaking to Camilla? Accuse not Fortune, answer’d D’elmont, but the influence of malicious Stars which seldom, if ever, suits our Dispositions to our Circumstances; I have seen Camilla, have talk’d to her, and ’tis from that Discourse that I cannot forbear reflection on the Miseries of Humanity, which, while it mocks us with a show of Reason, gives us no Power to curb our Will, and guide the erring Appetites to Peace. Monsieur Frankville at these Words first felt a jealous Pang, and as ’tis natural to believe every Body admires what we do, he presently imagin’d Count D’elmont had forgot Melliora in the presence of Camilla, and that it was from the Consciousness of his own Weakness and Inconstancy, that he spoke so feelingly: I wonder not my Lord, said he coldly, that the Beauties of Camilla shou’d inspire you with Sentiments, which, perhaps, for many Reasons, you wou’d desire to be free from, and I ought, in Prudence, to have consider’d, that tho’ you are the most excellent of your Kind, you are still a Man, and not have the Passions incident to Man, and not have expos’d you to those Dangers the sight of Camilla must necessarily involve you in: I wish to Heaven answer’d the Count, easily guessing what his Thoughts were, no greater threatned you, and that you cou’d think on Camilla with the same indifference as I can, or she of me with more; then, in as brief a manner as he cou’d, he gave him the Substance of what had happen’d. Frankville, whose only Fault was rashness, grew almost wild at the Recital of so unexpected a Misfortune, he knew not for a good while what to believe, loath he was to suspect the Count, but loather to suspect Camilla, yet flew into extremities of Rage against both, by turns: The Count pitied, and forgave all that the violence of his Passion made him utter, but offer’d not to argue with him, ’till he found him capable of admitting his Reasons, and then, that open Sincerity, that honest noble Assurance which always accompany’d his Sweetness, and made it difficult to doubt the Truth of any thing he said, won the disorder’d Lover to an entire Conviction; he now concludes his Mistress false, repents the tenderness he has had for her, and tho’ she still appears as lovely to his Fancy as ever, she grows odious to his Judgment, and resolves to use his utmost Efforts to banish her Idea from his Heart.
In this Humour he took leave of the Count, it growing late, and his last Nights Adventure taught him the danger of Nocturnal Walks, but how he spent his time till Morning, those can only guess, who have loved like him, and like him, met so cruel a Disappointment.
The Count pass’d not the Night in much less Inquietude than Frankville, he griev’d the powerful Influence of his own Attractions, and had there not been a Melliora in the World, he wou’d have wish’d himself Deform’d, rather than have been the Cause of so much Misery, as his Loveliness produc’d.
The next Morning the Count design’d to visit Frankville, to strengthen him in his Resolution of abandoning all Thoughts of the unconstant Camilla, but before he cou’d get drest, the other came into his Chamber: My Lord, said he, assoon as they were alone, my perfidious Mistress, failing to make a Conquest of your Heart, is still willing to preserve that she had attain’d over mine, but all her Charms and her Delusions are but vain, and to prove to your Lordship that they are so, I have brought the Letter I receiv’d from her, scarce an Hour past, and the true Copy of my Answer to it.