At last,—Well, Mullern, said she, looking languishingly on him, since chance has made you acquainted with my foible, I think I must bribe you to secrecy, by forgiving the liberties you take with me:—and if I were convinced you really love me as well as you pretend, might indulge you yet farther.—An unaccountable caprice indeed swayed me in favour of Horatio, but I am now half inclinable to believe you are more deserving my regard;—but rise, continued she, I will hear nothing from you while in that posture.
Mullern, who was no less bold in love than war, immediately obeyed her, and testified his gratitude for her condescention, by giving a sudden spring and snatching her to his breast, pressed her in so arduous a manner, that she would have been incapable of resisting, even tho' she had an inclination to do so: but she, no less transported than himself, returned endearment for endearment, and not only permitted, but assisted all his raptures,—absolutely forgot Horatio, as well as all sense of her own shame, and yielded him a full enjoyment without even an affectation of repugnance.
Both parties, in fine, were perfectly satisfied with each other, and having mutually sworn a thousand oaths of fidelity which neither of them, it is probable, had any intention to keep, Mullern took upon himself the care of continuing to entertain her in private as often as she came to the prison, and in return she made him a present of a purse of gold, after which they passed into the outer room to prevent censures on their staying too long together.
On their return they found Horatio with the other gentlemen. Abandoned as Mattakesa was, she could not keep herself from blushing a little at sight of him; but soon recovering herself by the help of her natural audacity,—Well, Horatio, said she, what do you think of the little French epigram I put into your hands yesterday;—has it not a very agreeable point?
Horatio had such an aversion to all kind of deceit, that even here, where it was so necessary, he could not, without some hesitation, answer to what she said in these words.—Some accident or other, cried he, deprived me of the pleasure you were so good to intend me; for when I put my hand in my pocket thinking to read it, I perceived I was so unhappy as to have lost, it:—I looked for it in vain:—it was irrecoverably gone, and I am an utter stranger to the contents.
And ever shall be so, replied she tartly, only to punish your carelessness of a lady's favour; know, that it was a piece of wit which would have been highly agreeable to you:—but don't expect I shall take the pains to write it over again, or even tell you the subject on which it turned.
Horatio cooly said, he could not but confess he had been to blame, and must therefore allow the justice of her proceeding. As none present besides himself, his bedfellow, and Mullern, knew the truth of this affair, what passed between them was taken by the others as literally spoken, and little suspected to couch the mystery it really did.
Mullern, after this, by the assistance of Horatio and the old officer, had frequent opportunities of gratifying his own and the amorous Mattakesa's desires.—The testimonies she gave him how well she was pleased with his conversation, were for the common good of his companions.—Horatio was easy in finding himself out of all danger of any solicitations he was determined never to acquiesce in; and those three who were in the secret passed their time pleasantly enough, whenever they had an opportunity of talking on this adventure, without any of the others being witnesses of what they said.