‘The Marquess made a single Pacquet of this fatal Letter, to the end Don Lewis might not think ’twas by his Order the Marchioness had wrote it; and having sent it to the Currier, he expected the Success with extraordinary Impatience. What became of this Lover at the sight of so dear and unexpected an Order! Although he had remarkt Dispositions of Tenderness in the Countenance of this fair Person, yet he dared not promise himself she could desire his Return; his Reason revolted against his Joy: “How Unhappy a Wretch am I?” said he, “I Adore the most Aimable of all Women, and yet I dare not offer to please her! She has a Kindness for me, yet Honour and Friendship with-hold me from making the least Advantage of it. What shall I do then, O Heavens! What shall I do! I flatter’d my self, that Absence would Cure me: Alas! this is a Remedy which I have fruitlesly tried; I have never cast mine Eyes on her Picture, but have found myself more in Love, and more Miserable than when I saw her every day. I must obey her, she commands my Return; she desires to see me, and she cannot be ignorant of my Passion: When I took my Leave of her, my Eyes declared to her the Secret of my Heart: And when I call to mind what I saw in hers, all my Reflections then are to no purpose; for I resolve rather to die at her Feet, than to live remote from her.”
‘He parted without any delay, and without taking leave of his Friends. He left a Gentleman to Excuse him towards them, and to order his Affairs. He was in such great haste to see the Marchioness, that he used such Diligence to be with her, that no body but he could have done: In arriving at Cagliary, Capital of Sardagne, he understood that the Marquess and his Wife were at a stately Country-house, where the Vice-Roy was gone to give them a Visit, with all his Court. He learnt moreover, that the Marquess de Barbaran prepared for him a great Feast, where there were to be held Justs or Turnaments, after the Ancient Manner of the Mores: He was the Defendant, and was to maintain, “That a Husband beloved, is Happier than a Lover.”
‘Several Gentlemen that were not of this Opinion, were preparing themselves to go and dispute the Prize, which the Marchioness, at the Vice-Queen’s Intreaty, was to give to the Conquerour; ’Twas a Scarf embroidered with her own Hands, wrought with Cyphers: No one was to appear but maskt and disguised, to the end all might be freer and more gallant.
‘Don Lewis had a secret Despight, in comprehending the Marquess so well satisfied: “He is belov’d,” said he, “I cannot but look on him as my Rival, and as an Happy Rival; but we must endeavour to disturb his Happiness, in triumphing over his vain Glory.” Having formed this Design, he would not appear in Town; he caus’d to be made a Suit of strip’d Green Satin, embroidered with Gold, and all his Liveries were of the same Colour, to denote his new Hopes.
‘When he entred into the Lissts, everybody had their Eyes on him; his Magnificence and his Air gave Emulation to the Cavaliers, and great Curiosity to the Ladies. The Marchioness felt a secret Emotion, of which she could not discover the Cause: He was placed very near the Balcony, where she sate with the Vice-Queen; but there was no Lady there which did not lose all her Lustre near that of the Marchioness; her youthful Air, which exceeded not eighteen Years, her lovely white and red Cheeks, her Eyes so sweet and graceful, her Scarlet and little Mouth, agreeable Smiles, and her Shape, which surpast the Fairest, made her the Admiration of all the World.
‘Don Lewis was so ravish’d in seeing her so charming, and to observe yet in her Countenance a languishing sorrowful Air, that he flattered himself to have therein a part; and this was the first Moment wherein he thought himself Happy. When his turn came, he ran against the Marquess, and smote him so dexterously, that he got the Advantage all along of him: so that in a word, he gain’d the Prize with a general Applause, and with every one’s good-liking. He threw himself at the Marchioness’s Feet, to receive it at her Hands; he altered the Tone of his Voice, and speaking to her with his Mask on, low enough not to be heard but only by her: “Divine Person,” said he to her, “be pleas’d to observe what Fortune decides in favour of Lovers.” He dar’d not say more to her; and without knowing him, she gave him the Prize, with this natural Grace with which all her Actions were accompanied.
‘He suddenly withdrew himself, for fear of being known; for this might have been an occasion of Quarrel between the Marquess and him; and without doubt he would not have easily pardon’d the Victory he obtain’d over him. This oblig’d him to keep himself still conceal’d for some Days. The Vice-Roy and his Lady return’d to Cagliari, and the Marquess and Marchioness accompanied them thither, with the whole Court.
‘Don Lewis then shew’d himself; he pretended he just then arriv’d, and made as if he knew not what had past in the Field. The Marquess de Barbaran was transported with Joy in seeing him; and Absence had not at all altered the Affection he had for this dear Relation. He had no difficult task to find a favourable moment wherein to entertain his aimable Marchioness; he had as much liberty in their Lodgings as in his own; and you may well judge, Madam, that he forgot not to mention the Prize he had receiv’d from her fair Hands. “How wretched am I,” said he to her, “that you did not know me? Alas, Madam, I flattered myself, that by some secret Pre-sentiments you would learn, that no one but I could sustain with such Passion the Cause of Lovers against Husbands.” “No my Lord,” said she to him, with an Angry and Disdainful Air, to take away all Hope from him, “I could never have imagin’d that you could have been Patron of so foul a Cause; and I could not have believ’d you could have taken such strong Engagements at Naples, that you should come as far as Sardagne to Triumph over a Friend who maintain’d my Interests as well as his own.” “I shall die with Regret, Madam,” said Don Lewis, “if I have displeas’d you in what I have done; and were you more favourably disposed, and I might dare to make you my Confident, it would be no hard matter for me to persuade you, that it is not at Naples I have left the Object of my Vows.”
‘The Marchioness apprehending lest he should speak more than she was willing to hear, and appear livelily toucht with the Reproach she made him, she put on a more pleasing Countenance, and turning the Conversation into a Tone of Raillery, answer’d him, “He took too seriously what she had said to him.” He dared not make use of this occasion to declare his Love to her; for though he lov’d her above all things, yet he respected her no less.
‘When he had left her, he began to blame himself for his Fearfulness: “Shall I,” said he, “always suffer without seeking any Remedy!” It was some time before he could meet with a favourable occasion, because the Marchioness studiously avoided him; but being come one Night where she was, he found her alone in an inward room, lying on a Bed in a most lovely manner, and most becoming Undress, her Hair being fastened with Knots of Diamonds, hung carelesly about her Breasts: The Trouble she felt in seeing Don Lewis, appear’d on her Countenance, and rendred her yet more lovely: He drew near her with an Awful and Respectful Air, fell down on his Knees by her; he lookt on her for some time, not daring to speak, but becoming a little more bold, “If you consider, Madam,” said he to her, “the piteous Condition whereto you have reduced me, you will easily comprehend that it is no longer in my power to keep Silence: I could not avoid such inevitable Stroaks as you have given me; I have adored you as soon as I saw you: I have endeavour’d to Cure myself in flying from you; I have offered the greatest Violence to myself, in endeavouring to master my Passion. You have recall’d me, Madam, from my Voluntary Exile, and I die a thousand times a Day, uncertain of my Destiny: If you be Cruel enough to refuse me your Pity, suffer at least, that having made known to you my Passion, I may die with Grief at your Feet.” The Marchioness was some time without resolving to answer him; but at length, gaining Assurance, “I acknowledge,” said she, “Don Lewis, that I am not wholly ignorant of one part of your Sentiments, but I was willing to perswade myself ’twas the Effects of an Innocent Affection: Make me not a Partner of your Crime; you commit one, when you betray the Friendship due to my Husband: But, alas, you will pay but too dearly for this; for I know that Duty forbids you to Love me; and in my Respect, it does not only forbid me to love you, but to fly from you: I will do it, Don Lewis, I will avoid you; and I do not know, whether I ought not to Hate you: But, alas, it seems impossible to me to do it.” “What do you then, Madam,” answer’d he, interrupting her, being full of Grief and Despair, “when you pronounce the Sentence of my Death? You cannot Hate me, say you; Do you not Hate me, and do you not do me all the Mischief you are able, when you resolve to avoid me? Make an end, Madam, make an end, leave not your Vengeance imperfect; sacrifice me to your Duty, and your Husband; for my Life cannot but be odious, if you take from me the Hopes of pleasing you.” She lookt on him at this instant with Eyes full of Languishment: “Don Lewis,” said she to him, “you reproach me with what I would deserve.” In ending these words, she arose, fearing greatly, lest her Affection should triumph over her Reason; and notwithstanding his endeavours to with-hold her, she past into a Chamber where her Women were.