‘I was not there long but Mendez found me out: I must confess to you, I was not heartily displeas’d at his Attendance on me; but maugre my Inclinations towards him, I put on a firm Resolution to avoid him, seeing I could not sincerely hate him; and unknown to every Body, I took the Road to Burgos, where I am going to Cloyster myself with a Religious there, my Friend. I flatter myself, Madam, with the Hopes of finding more Rest there, than I have hitherto met with.’
The Beautiful Marchioness here held her peace; and I testified to her my particular Acknowledgments for the Favour she had done me: I assured her of the part I took in her Adventures: I conjured her to write to me, and let me hear from her at Madrid; and she promised it me in the most obliging Manner as is possible.
We found the next Morning we could not set out, it having snow’d all the Night, and no Path appearing on the Ground; but we wanted not Company to pass the time in Play and Discourse. Having been three days with the Marchioness de Los Rios, without any Weariness at the length of the Time, through the pleasure I had of seeing and hearing her talk (for she is one of the most lovely Women in the World.) We parted with a mutual Regret, and it was not without doubling our Promises of writing to, and seeing one another hereafter.
The Weather mended, and I continued on my Journey to Lerma: We had traverst dreadful Mountains, which bear the Name of Sierra de Cogollos, and it was not without great trouble we got thither: This Town is small; she has given her name to the famous Cardinal de Lerma, Chief Minister to Philip III: it is from him that Philip IV. took the great Revenues he had receiv’d from the King his Master. Here is a Castle which I will see to Morrow, and of which I shall give you an Account in my next. I am told an Extraordinary Express is arriv’d, and will set out to Night: I will lay hold of this Opportunity of sending to you, and ending this long Letter; for in truth I am tired both with the Way, and with Writing, but I shall never be weary of Loving you.
From Lerma,
Mar. 5, 1679.
FINIS.
[3]. This happened in 714, after the Battle of St. Martin, wherein D. Rodrigue lost his Life; others say, he fled into Portugal, and died in a Town there call’d Viscii.
Reprinted for