Chapter XI: Letter II: To the Ungrateful D’ELMONT (3)

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.

To Monsieur FRANKVILLE.

_Tho’ nothing proves the value of our Presence, so much as the
Pangs our absence occasions, and in my last I rashly wish’d
you might be sensible of mine, yet on examining my Heart, I
presently recall’d the hasty Prayer, and found I lov’d with
that extravagance of Tenderness, that I had rather you return’d
it too little than too much, and methinks cou’d better bear to
represent you to my Fancy, careless and calm as common Lovers
are, than think, I saw you, Burning,--Bleeding,---Dying, like
me, with hopeless Wishes, and unavailing Expectations; but Ah!
I fear such Apprehensions are but too un-necessary----You think
not of me, and, if in those happy days, when no cross Accident
interven’d to part me from your Sight, my Fondness pleas’d,
you now find nothing in CAMILLA worth a troubled Thought, nor
breath one tender sigh in memory of our Transports past.----If
I wrong your Love, impute it to Distraction, for Oh! ’tis sure,
I am not in my Senses, nor know to form one regular Desire: I
act, and speak, and think, a thousand Incoherent things, and
tho’ I cannot forbear Writing to you, I write in such a manner,
so wild, so different from what I wou’d, that I repent me of
the Folly I am guilty of, even while I am committing it; but
to make as good a Defence as I am able for these, perhaps,
unwelcome Lines, I must inform you that they come not so much
to let you know my Sentiments, as to engage a Discovery of
yours: CIAMARA has discharg’d one of her Servants from her
Attendance, who no longer courting her Favour or regarding her
Frowns, I have prevail’d upon, not only to bring this to you,
but to convey an Answer back to me, by the help of a String
which I am to let down to him from my Window, therefore, if
you are but as Kind, as he has promis’d to be Faithful, we
may often enjoy the Blessing of this distant Conversation;
Heaven only knows when we shall be permitted to enjoy a nearer.
CITTOLINI is this Evening return’d from his VILLA, and nothing
but a Miracle can save me from the necessity of making my
Choice of him, or a Monastery, either of which is worse than
Death, since it must leave me the Power to wish, but take away
the means, of being what I so oft have swore to be_

Eternally Yours, and,

Yours alone,

_Camilla_.

The Count could not forbear lifting up his Eyes and Hands in token of Amazement, at the unexampled Falshood this Woman appeared guilty of, but perceiving Monsieur _Frankville_ was about to read the following Answer, wou’d not Interrupt him, by asking any Questions ’till he had done.

To _Donna_ CAMILLA.

_If Vows are any constraint to an Inclination so addicted to
Liberty as Yours, I shall make no difficulty to release you of
all you ever made to me! Yes Madam, you are free to dispose
both of your Heart and Person wheresoever you think fit, nor
do I desire you shou’d give your self the pains of farther
Dissimulation. I pay too entire an Obedience to your Will, to
continue in a Passion which is no longer pleasing: Nor will, by
an ill tim’d and unmannerly Constancy, disturb the serenity of
your future Enjoyments with any happier Man than_

Frankville.

You see, my Lord, said he with a sigh, that I have put it out of her Power to Triumph over my Weakness, for I confess my Heart still wears her Chains, but e’er my Eyes or Tongue betray to her the shameful Bondage, these Hands shou’d tear them out; therefore I made no mention of her Behaviour to you, nor of my sending any Letter by you, not only because I knew not if your Lordship wou’d think it proper, but lest she shou’d imagine my Resentment proceeded from Jealousy, and that I lov’d her still.----No, she shall ne’er have Cause to guess the truth of what I suffer.----Her _real perfidy_ shall be repaid with _seeming Inconstancy_ and Scorn---Oh! How ’twill sting her Pride,----By Heaven, I feel a gloomy kind of Pleasure in the Thought, and will indulge it, even to the highest insults of Revenge.

I rather wish, reply’d the Count, you cou’d in _earnest_ be indifferent, than only _feign_ to be so, her unexampled Levity Deceit, renders her as unworthy of your Anger as your Love, and there is too much Danger while you preserve the _one_, that you will not be able to throw off the _other_.----Oh! I pretend not to it, cry’d _Frankville_, interrupting him, she has too deep a root within my Soul ever to be remov’d---I boast no more than a concealment of my Passion, and when I dress the horrors of a bleeding, breaking Heart, in all the calm of cold Tranquility; methinks, you shou’d applaud the _Noble_ Conquest: Time, said the _Count_, after a little Pause, and a just Reflection how little she deserves your Thoughts, will teach you to obtain a _Nobler_; that of numbering your Love, among things that _were_, but _are_ no more, and make you, with me, acknowledge that ’tis as great an argument of _Folly_ and _meanness of Spirit_ to continue the same Esteem when the Object ceases to deserve, which we profess’d before the discovery of that unworthiness, as it wou’d be of _Villany_ and _Inconstancy of Mind_, to change, without an Efficient Cause: A great deal of Discourse pass’d between them to the same Effect, and it was but in vain that Count _D’elmont_ endeavour’d to perswade him to a real forgetfulness of the Charmer, tho’ he resolv’d to seem as if he did so.

While they were disputing, one of _D’elmont’s_ Servants gave him a Letter, which, he told him, the Person who brought it, desir’d he wou’d answer immediately; he no sooner broke it open, and cast his Eye over it, than he cry’d out in a kind of Transport, Oh, _Frankville_, what has Fate been doing! You are Happy.----_Camilla_ is Innocent, and perhaps the most deserving of her Sex; I only am Guilty, who, by a fatal Mistake have wrong’d her Virtue, and Tormented you; but Read, continu’d he, giving him the Letter, Read, and Satisfy your self.

Monsieur _Frankville_ was too much astonish’d at these Words to be able to make any reply, but immediately found the Interpretation of them in these Lines.

To the dear cruel Destroyer of my Quiet, the never too much
Admir’d _Count_ D’ELMONT.

“’Tis no longer the Mistress of your Friend, a perjur’d and
unjust _Camilla_, who languishes and dies by your Contempt, but
one, whom all the Darts of Love had strove in vain to reach,
’till from your Charms they gain’d a God-like Influence, and
un-erring Force! One, who tho’ a Widow, brings you the Offering
of a Virgin Heart.

“As I was sitting in my Closet, watching the progress of the
lazy Hours, which flew not half so swift as my Desires to bring
on the appointed time in which you promis’d to be with me in
the Garden; my Woman came running in, to acquaint me, that
you were in the House, and waited to speak with _Camilla_:
Surprize, and Jealousy at once Assaulted me, and I sunk beneath
the Apprehension that you might, by some Accident, have seen
her, and also loved her, to ease my self of those tormenting
Doubts I resolv’d to appear before you, in her stead, and kept
my Vail over my Face, ’till I found that hers was unknown to
you:-----You are not Ignorant what follow’d, the Deceit pass’d
upon you for Truth, but I was sufficiently punish’d for it, by
the severity of your Usage: I was just going to discover who
I was, when the violence of my Love, my Grief, and my Despair
threw me into that Swoon, in which, to compleat your Cruelty,
you left me; ’twou’d be endless to endeavour to represent the
Agonies of my Soul, when I recovered, and heard you were gone,
but all who truly Love, as they _fear much_, so they _hope
much_, my Tortures at length abated, at least, permitted me to
take some intervals of Comfort, and I began to flatter my self
that the Passion you seem’d transported with, for a nameless
Mistress, was but a _feint_ to bring me back to him you thought
I was oblig’d to Love, and that there was a possibility, that
my Person and Fortune might not appear despicable to you, when,
you shou’d know, I have no Ties but those of Inclination, which
can be only yours while I am

_Ciamara._

“_P.S._ If you find nothing in me worthy of your Love, my
Sufferings are such, as justly may deserve your Pity; either
relieve or put an end to them I conjure you---Free me from the
ling’ring Death of Doubt, at once decree my Fate, for, like
a God, you rule my very Will, nor dare I, without your Leave,
throw off this wretched Being; Oh then, permit me once more to
behold you, to try at least, to warm you into Kindness with my
Sighs, to melt you with my Tears,---to sooth you into softness
by a thousand yet undiscover’d Fondnesses---and, if all fail to
die before your Eyes.”

Those who have experienc’d the force of Love, need not to be inform’d what Joy, what Transport swell’d the Heart of Monsieur _Frankville_, at this unexpected _Eclaircissment_ of his dear _Camilla’s_ Innocence; when every thing concurs to make our Woes seem real, when Hopes are dead, and even Desire is hush’d by the loud Clamours of Despair and Rage, then,---then, to be recall’d to Life, to Light, to Heaven and Love again, is such a torrent of o’re powering Happiness,--such a surcharge of Extacy, as Sense can hardly bear.

What now wou’d _Frankville_ not have given that it had been in his Power to have recall’d the last Letter he sent to _Camilla_? his Soul severely reproach’d him for so easily believing she cou’d be False; tho’ his Experience of the sweetness of her Disposition, made him not doubt of a Pardon from her, when she shou’d come to know what had been the Reason of his Jealousy; his impatience to see her, immediately put it into his Head, that as _Ciamara_ had been the occasion of the mis-understanding between them, _Ciamara_ might likewise be made the property to set all right again; to this end, he entreated the Count to write her an answer of Compliance, and a promise to come to her the next Day, in which Visit, he wou’d, in a Disguise attend him, and being once got into the House, he thought it wou’d be no difficulty to steal to _Camilla’s_ Apartment.

But he found it not so easy a Task as he imagin’d, to persuade Count _D’elmont_ to come into this Design, his generous Heart, averse to all Deceit, thought it base and unmanly to abuse with Dissimulation the real tenderness this Lady had for him, and tho’ press’d by the Brother of _Melliora_, and conjur’d to it, even by the Love he profess’d for her, it was with all the reluctance in the World, that he, at last, consented, and his Servant came several times into the Room to remind him that the Person who brought the Letter, waited impatiently for an Answer, before he cou’d bring himself into a Humour to write in the manner Monsieur _Frankville_ desir’d; and tho’, scarce any Man ever had so sparkling a Fancy, such a readiness of Thought, or aptitude of Expression, when the dictates of his Soul, were the Employment of his Tongue or Pen, yet he now found himself at a loss for Words, and he wasted more time in these few Lines, than a Thousand times as many on any other Subject wou’d have cost him.

To the Beautiful and Obliging CIAMARA.

_Madam_,

“If I did not Sin against Truth when I assur’d you that I had
a Mistress to whom I was engag’d by Inclination, I certainly
did, when I appear’d guilty of a harshness which was never in
my Nature; the Justice you do me in believing the Interest of
my Friend was the greatest Motive for my seeming Unkindness I
have not the Power sufficiently to acknowledge, but, cou’d you
look into my Soul, you wou’d there find the Effects of your
Inspiration, something so tender, and so grateful, as only
favours, such as you confer, cou’d merit or create.

“I design to make my self happy in waiting on you to Morrow
Night about Eleven, if you will order me admittance at that
Back-gate, which was the Place of our first Appointment, ’till
then, I am the lovely _Ciamara_’s

Most Devoted Servant

_D’elmont._

“_P.S._ There are some Reasons why I think it not safe to come
alone, therefore beg you’ll permit me to bring a Servant with
me, on whose secrecy I dare rely.”

When the Count had sent away this little Billet, Monsieur _Frankville_ grew very gay on the hopes of his Design succeeding; and laughing, my Lord said he, I question whether _Melliora_ wou’d forgive me, for engaging you in this Affair; _Ciamara_ is extreamly handsome, has Wit, and where she attempts to Charm, has doubtless, a thousand Artifices to obtain her wish; the Count was not in a temper to relish his Raillery, he had a great deal of Compassion for _Ciamara_, and thought himself inexcusable for deceiving her, and all that _Frankville_ cou’d do to dissipate the Gloom that reflection spread about him, was but vain.

They spent the greatest part of this Day together, as they had done the former; and when the time came that _Frankville_ thought it proper to take Leave, it was with a much more chearful Heart, than he had the Night before; but his Happiness was not yet secure, and in a few Hours he found a considerable alteration in his Condition.

As soon as it was dark enough for CAMILLA to let down her String to the Fellow whom she had order’d to wait for it, he receiv’d another Letter fasten’d to it, and finding it was Directed as the other, for Monsieur _Frankville_, he immediately brought it to him.

It was with a mixture of Fear and Joy, that the impatient Lover broke it open, but both these Passions gave Place to an adequate Despair, when having un-seal’d it, he read these Lines.

_To Monsieur_ FRANKVILLE.

“I have been already so much deceiv’d, that I ought not to
boast of any skill in the Art of Divination, yet, I fancy,
’tis in my Power to form a juster Guess than I have done,
what the Sentiments of your Heart will be when you first open
this----Methinks, I see you put on a scornful Smile, resolving
to be still unmov’d, either at Upbraidings or Complaints;
for to do one of these, I am satisfied, you imagine is the
reason of my troubling you with a Letter: But Sir, I am not
altogether silly enough to believe the tenderest Supplications
the most humble of my Sex cou’d make, has efficacy to restore
Desire, once Dead, to Life; or if it cou’d, I am not so mean
Spirited as to accept a return thus caus’d; nor wou’d it
be less impertinent to Reproach; to tell you that you are
Perjur’d---Base---Ungrateful, is what you know already, unless
your Memory is so Complaisant as not to remind you of either
Vows or Obligations: But, to assure you, that I reflect on
this sudden Change of your Humour without being fir’d with
Rage, or stupify’d with Grief, is perhaps, what you least
expect.----Yet, strange as it may seem, it is most certain,
that she, whom you have found the Softest, Fondest, Tenderest
of her Kind, is in a moment grown the most Indifferent, for
in spight of your Inconstancy, I never shall deny that I have
Lov’d you,---Lov’d you, even to Dotage, my Passion took birth
long before I knew you had a thought of feigning one for
me, which frees me from that Imputation Women too frequently
deserve, of _loving_ for no other Reason than because they are
_beloved_, for if you ne’er had _seem’d_ to love, I shou’d have
continu’d to do so in _Reality_. I found a thousand Charms
in your Person and Conversation, and believ’d your Soul no
less transcending all others in excellent Qualities, than I
still confess your Form to be in Beauty; I drest you up in
vain Imagination, adorn’d with all the Ornaments of Truth,
Honour, good Nature, Generosity, and every Grace that raise
mortal Perfection to the highest pitch, and almost reach
Divinity,---but you have taken care to prove your self, meer
_Man_, to like, dislike, and wish you know not what, nor why!
If I never had any Merits, how came you to think me worthy the
pains you have taken to engage me? And if I had, how am I so
suddenly depriv’d of them?---No, I am still the same, and the
only reason I appear not so to you, is, that you behold me
now, no more, with Lover’s Eyes; the few Charms, I am Mistress
of, look’d lovely at a distance, but lose their Lustre, when
approach’d too near; your Fancy threw a glittering Burnish o’re
me, which free Possession has worn off, and now, the _Woman_
only stands expos’d to View, and I confess I justly suffer for
the guilty Folly of believing that in your Sex Ardors cou’d
survive Enjoyment, or if they cou’d, that such a Miracle was
reserv’d for me; but thank Heaven my Punishment is past, the
Pangs, the Tortures of my bleeding Heart, in tearing your Idea
thence, already are no more! The fiery Tryal is over, and
I am now arriv’d at the Elizium of perfect Peace, entirely
unmolested by any warring Passion; the Fears, the Hopes, the
Jealousies, and all the endless Train of Cares which waited
on my hours of Love and fond Delusion, serve but to endear
re-gain’d Tranquility; and I can cooly _Scorn_, not _hate_ your
Falshood; and tho’ it is a Maxim very much in use among the
Women of my Country, that, _not to Revenge, were to deserve
Ill-usage_, yet I am so far from having a wish that way, that
I shall always esteem your _Virtues_, and while I pardon, pity
your _Infirmities_; shall praise your flowing Wit, without
an Indignant remembrance how oft it has been employ’d for my
undoing; shall acknowledge the brightness of your Eyes, and not
in secret Curse the borrow’d softness of their Glances, shall
think on all your past Endearments, your Sighs, your Vows, your
melting Kisses, and the warm Fury of your fierce Embraces, but
as a pleasing Dream, while Reason slept, and with not to renew
at such a Price.

“I desire no Answer to this, nor to be thought of more, go on
in the same Course you have begun, Change ’till you are tir’d
with roving, still let your Eyes Inchant, your Tongue Delude,
and Oaths Betray, and all who look, who listen, and believe, be
ruin’d and forsaken like

_Camilla._”

The calm and resolute Resentment which appear’d in the Stile of this Letter, gave _Frankville_ very just Grounds to fear, it would be no small Difficulty to obtain a Pardon for what he had so rashly Written; but when he reflected on the seeming Reasons, which mov’d him to it, and that he should have an Opportunity to let her know them, he was not altogether Inconsolable, he pass’d the Night however in a World of Anxiety, and as soon as Morning came, hurried away, to communicate to the _Count_ this fresh Occasion of his Trouble.

It was now _D’elmont_’s turn to Rally, and he laugh’d as much at those Fears, which he imagin’d Causeless, as the other had done, at the Assignation he had perswaded him to make with _Ciamara_, but tho’ as most of his Sex are, he was pretty much of the _Count_’s Opinion, yet, the Re-instating himself in _Camilla_’s Esteem, was a Matter of too great Importance to him, to suffer him to take one Moment’s ease ’till he was perfectly Assur’d of it.

At last, the wish’d for Hour arriv’d, and he, disguis’d so, as it was impossible for him to be known, attended the _Count_ to that dear Wicket, which had so often given him Entrance to _Camilla_; they waited not long for Admittance, _Brione_ was ready there to Receive them; the Sight of her, inflam’d the Heart of Monsieur _Frankville_ with all the Indignation imaginable, for he knew her to be the Woman, who, by her Treachery to _Camilla_, had gain’d the Confidence of _Ciamara_, and involv’d him in all the Miseries he had endur’d! but he contain’d himself, ’till she taking the _Count_ by the Hand, in order to lead him to her Lady, bad him wait her Return, which she told him should be immediately, in an outer Room which she pointed him to.

In the mean Time she conducted the _Count_ to the Door of that magnificent Chamber, where he had been receiv’d by the suppos’d _Camilla_, and where he now beheld the real _Ciamara_, drest, if possible, richer than she was the Night before, but loose as wanton Fancy cou’d invent; she was lying on the Couch when he enter’d, and affecting to seem as if she was not presently Sensible of his being there, rose not to receive him ’till he was very near her; they both kept silence for some Moments, she, waiting till he should speak, and he, possibly, prevented by the uncertainty after what manner he should Form his Address, so as to keep an equal Medium between the two Extreams, of being Cruel, or too Kind, till at last the Violence of her impatient Expectation burst out in these Words,----Oh that this Silence were the Effect of Love!----and then perceiving he made no Answer; tell me, continu’d she, am I forgiven for thus intruding on your _Pity_ for a Grant, which _Inclination_ would not have allow’d me? Cease Madam, reply’d he, to encrease the Confusion which a just Sense of your Favours, and my own Ingratitude has cast me in: How can you look with Eyes so tender and so kind, on him who brings you nothing in Return? Rather despise me, hate me, drive me from your Sight, believe me as I am, unworthy of your Love, nor squander on a Bankrupt Wretch the noble Treasure: Oh Inhuman! interrupted she, has then that Mistress of whose Charms you boasted, engross’d all your stock of Tenderness? and have you nothing, nothing to repay me for all this waste of Fondness,----this lavish Prodigality of Passion, which forces me beyond my Sexes Pride, or my own natural Modesty, to sue, to Court, to kneel and weep for Pity: Pity, resum’d the _Count_ wou’d be a poor Reward for Love like yours, and yet alas! continu’d he Sighing, ’tis all I have to give; I have already told you, I am ty’d by Vows, by Honour, Inclination, to another, who tho’ far absent hence, I still preserve the dear Remembrance of! My Fate will soon recall me back to her, and _Paris_; yours fixes you at _Rome_, and since we are doom’d to be for ever separated, it wou’d be base to Cheat you with a vain Pretence, and lull you with Hopes pleasing Dreams a while, when you must quickly wake to added Tortures, and redoubled Woe: Heavens, cry’d she, with an Air full of Resentment, are then my Charms so mean, my Darts so weak, that near, they cannot intercept those, shot at such a Distance? And are you that dull, cold Platonist, which can prefer the visionary Pleasures of an _absent_ Mistress, to the warm Transports of the Substantial _present_: The _Count_ was pretty much surpriz’d at these Words, coming from the Mouth of a Woman of Honour, and began now to perceive what her Aim was, but willing to be more confirm’d, Madam, said he, I dare not hope your Virtue wou’d permit.----Is this a Time (Interrupted she, looking on him with Eyes which sparkled with wild Desires, and left no want of further Explanation of her meaning) Is this an Hour to preach of Virtue?----Married,----betroth’d, engag’d by Love or Law, what hinders but this Moment you may be mine, this Moment, well improv’d, might give us Joys to baffle a whole Age of Woe; make us, at once, forget our Troubles past, and by its sweet remembrance, scorn those to come; in speaking these Words, she sunk supinely on _D’elmont_’s Breast; but tho’ he was not so ill-natur’d, and unmannerly as to repel her, this sort of Treatment made him lose all the Esteem, and great part of the Pity he had conceiv’d for her.

The Woes of Love are only worthy Commiseration, according to their Causes; and tho’ all those kinds of Desire, which the difference of Sex creates, bear in general, the name of Love, yet they are as vastly wide, as Heaven and Hell; that Passion which aims chiefly at Enjoyment, in Enjoyment ends, the fleeting Pleasure is no more remembred, but all the stings of Guilt and Shame remain; but that, where the interiour Beauties are consulted, and _Souls_ are Devotees, is truly Noble, Love, _there_ is a Divinity indeed, because he is immortal and unchangeable, and if our earthy part partake the Bliss, and craving Nature is in all obey’d; Possession thus desired, and thus obtain’d, is far from satiating, _Reason_ is not here debas’d to _Sense_, but _Sense_ elevates itself to _Reason_, the different Powers unite, and become pure alike.

It was plain that the Passion with which _Ciamara_ was animated, sprung not from this last Source; she had seen the Charming Count, was taken with his Beauty, and wish’d no farther than to possess his lovely _Person_, his _Mind_ was the least of her Thoughts, for had she the least Ambition to reign there, she wou’d not have so meanly sought to obtain the one, after he had assured her, the other, far more noble part of him was dispos’d of. The Grief he had been in, that it was not in his Power to return her Passion, while he believ’d it meritorious, was now chang’d to the utmost Contempt, and her Quality, and the State she liv’d in, did not hinder him from regarding of her, in as indifferent a manner, as he wou’d have done a common _Courtezan_.

Lost to all Sense of Honour, Pride or Shame, and wild to gratify her furious Wishes, she spoke, without reserve, all they suggested to her, and lying on his Breast, beheld, without concern, her Robes fly open, and all the Beauties of her own expos’d, and naked to his View: Mad at his Insensibility, at last she grew more bold, she kiss’d his Eyes,---his Lips, a thousand times, then press’d him in her Arms with strenuous Embraces,----and snatching his Hand and putting it to her Heart, which fiercely bounded at his Touch, bid him be witness of his mighty Influence there.

Tho’ it was impossible for any Soul to be capable of a greater, or more constant Passion than his felt for _Melliora_, tho’ no Man that ever liv’d, was less addicted to loose Desires,----in fine, tho’ he really was, as _Frankville_ had told him, the most excellent of his Kind, yet, he was still a _Man!_ And, ’tis not to be thought strange, if to the force of such united Temptations, Nature and Modesty a little yielded; warm’d with her fires, and perhaps, more mov’d by Curiosity, her Behaviour having extinguish’d all his respect, he gave his Hands and Eyes a full Enjoyment of all those Charms, which had they been answer’d by a Mind worthy of them, might justly have inspir’d the highest Raptures, while she, unshock’d, and unresisting, suffer’d all he did, and urg’d him with all the Arts she was Mistress of, to more, and it is not altogether improbable, that he might not entirely have forgot himself, if a sudden Interruption had not restor’d his Reason to the consideration of the Business which had brought him here.

Monsieur _Frankville_ had all this time been employ’d in a far different manner of Entertainment; _Brione_ came to him, according to her promise, assoon as she had introduc’d the _Count_ to _Ciamara_, and having been commanded by that Lady to Discourse with the supposed Servant, and get what she cou’d out of him, of the _Count_’s Affairs, she sat down and began to talk to him with a great deal of Freedom; but he who was too impatient to lose much time, told her he had a Secret to discover, if the place they were in was private enough to prevent his being over-heard, and she assuring him that it was, he immediately discover’d who he was, and clap’d a Pistol to her Breast, swearing that Moment shou’d be the last of her Life, if she made the least Noise, or attempted to intercept his passage to _Camilla_: The terror she was in, made her fall on her Knees, and conjuring him to spare her Life, beg’d a thousand Pardons for her Infidelity, which she told him was not occasion’d by any particular Malice to him; but not being willing to leave _Rome_ herself, the fear of being expos’d to the revenge of _Ciamara_ and _Cittolini_, when they shou’d find out that she had been the Instrument of _Camilla_’s Escape, prevail’d upon her timerous Soul to that Discovery, which was the only means to prevent what she so much dreaded: _Frankville_ contented himself with venting his Resentment in two or three hearty Curses, and taking her roughly by the Arm, bid her go with him to _Camilla_’s Apartment, and discover before her what she knew of _Ciamara_’s Entertaining Count _D’elmont_ in her Name, which she trembling promis’d to obey, and they both went up a pair of back Stairs which led a private way to _Camilla_’s Chamber; when they enter’d, she was sitting in her night Dress on the Bed-side, and the unexpected sight of _Brione_, who, till now, had never ventured to appear before her, since her Infidelity, and a Man with her whom she thought a Stranger, fill’d her with such a surprize, that it depriv’d her of her Speech, and gave _Frankville_ time to throw off his Disguise, and catch her in his Arms, with all the Transports of unfeign’d Affection, before she cou’d enough recover her self to make any resistance, but when she did, it was with all the Violence imaginable, and indeavouring to tear herself away; Villain, said she, comest thou again to triumph o’re my Weakness,----again to Cheat me into fond Belief? There needed no more to make this obsequious Lover relinquish his Hold, and falling at her Feet, was beginning to speak something in his Vindication; when she, quite lost in Rage, prevented him, by renewing her Reproaches in this manner; have you not given me up my Vows? Resum’d she, have you not abandon’d me to ruin,---to Death--to Infamy,----to all the stings of self-accusing Conscience and Remorse? And come you now, by your detested Presence, to alarm Remembrance, and new point my Tortures?-----That Woman’s Treachery, continu’d she, looking on _Brione_, I freely Pardon, since by that little Absence it occasion’d, I have discovered the wavering disposition of your Soul, and learn’d to scorn what is below my Anger. Hear me but speak, cry’d _Frankville_, or if you doubt my Truth, as I confess you have almighty Cause, let her inform you, what seeming Reasons, what Provocations urg’d my hasty Rage to write that fatal,----that accursed Letter. I will hear nothing, reply’d _Camilla_, neither from you nor her,----I see the base Design, and scorn to joyn in the Deceit,--You had no Cause,----not even the least Pretence for your Inconstancy but one, which, tho’ you all are guilty of, you all Disown, and that is, being lov’d too well.----I Lavish’d all the fondness of my Soul, and you, unable to reward, despiz’d it:--But think not that the rage, you now behold me in, proceeds from my Despair--No, your Inconstancy is the Fault of Nature, a Vice which all your Sex are prone to, and ’tis we, the fond Believers only, are to blame, _that_ I forgave, my Letter told you that I did----but thus to come----thus Insolent in Imagination, to dare to hope I were that mean Soul’d Wretch, whose easy Tameness, and whose doating Love, with Joy would welcome your return, clasp you again in my deluded Arms, and swear you were as dear as ever, is such an affront to my Understanding, as merits the whole Fury of Revenge! as she spoke these Words, she turn’d disdainfully from him with a Resolution to leave the Room, but she could not make such hast to go away, as the despairing, the distracted _Frankville_ did to prevent her, and catching hold of her Garments, stay Madam, said he, wildly, either permit me to clear my self of this barbarous Accusation, or, if you are resolv’d, Unhearing, to Condemn me, behold me, satiate all your Rage can wish, for by Heaven, continued he, holding the Pistol to his own Breast, as he had done a little before to _Brione_’s, by all the Joys I have Possest, by all the Hell I now endure, this Moment I’ll be receiv’d your _Lover_, or expire your _Martyr_. These Words pronounc’d so passionately, and the Action that accompany’d them, made a visible alteration in _Camilla_’s Countenance, but it lasted not long, and Resuming her fierceness; your Death, cry’d she, this way would give me little Satisfaction, the World would judge more Noble of my Resentment, if by my Hand you fell----Yet, continu’d she, snatching the Pistol from him, and throwing it out of the Window, which happen’d to be open, I will not---cannot be the Executioner.--No, Live! And let thy Punishment be, in _Reality_, to endure what thou well _Dissemblest_, the Pangs, the racking Pangs, of hopeless, endless Love!--May’st thou _indeed_, Love _Me_, as thou a thousand Times hast falsely sworn,---for ever _Love_, and I, for ever _Hate!_ In this last Sentence, she flew like Lightning to her Closet, and shut her self in, leaving the amaz’d Lover still on his Knees, stupify’d with Grief and Wonder, all this while _Brione_ had been casting about in her Mind, how to make the best use of this Adventure with _Ciamara_, and encourag’d by _Camilla_’s Behaviour and taking advantage of _Frankville_’s Confusion, made but one Step to the Chamber Door, and running out into the Gallery, and down Stairs, cry’d Murder,----Help, a Rape----Help, or _Donna Camilla_ will be carry’d away.---She had no occasion to call often, for the Pistol which _Camilla_ threw out of the Window chanc’d to go off in the fall, and the report it made, had alarm’d some of the Servants who were in an out-House adjoyning to the Garden, and imagining there were Thieves, were gathering to search: some arm’d with Staves, some with Iron Bars, or any thing they could get in the Hurry they were in, as they were running confusedly about, they met Monsieur _Frankville_ pursuing _Brione_, with a design to stop her Mouth, either by Threatnings or Bribes, but she was too nimble for him, and knowing the ways of the House much better than he did, went directly to the Room where _Ciamara_ was Caressing the Count in the manner already mention’d: Oh Madam, said she, you are impos’d on, the Count has deceiv’d your Expectations, and brought Monsieur _Frankville_ in Disguise to rob you of _Camilla_. These Words made them both, tho’ with very different Sentiments, start from the posture they were in, and _Ciamara_ changing her Air of Tenderness for one all Fury, Monster! Cry’d she to _D’elmont_, have you then betray’d me? This is no time, reply’d he, hearing a great Bustle, and _Frankville_’s Voice pretty loud without, for me to answer you, my Honour calls me to my Friend’s assistance; and drawing his Sword, run as the Noise directed him to the Place where _Frankville_ was defending himself against a little Army of _Ciamara_’s Servants, she was not much behind him, and enrag’d to the highest degree, cry’d out, kill, kill them both! But that was not a Task for a much greater Number of such as them to Accomplish, and tho’ their Weapons might easily have beat down, or broke the Gentlemens Sword; yet their Fears kept them from coming too near, and _Ciamara_ had the Vexation to see them both Retreat with Safety, and her self disappointed, as well in her Revenge, as in her Love.

Nothing cou’d be more surpriz’d, than Count _D’elmont_ was, when he got Home, and heard from _Frankville_ all that had pass’d between him and _Camilla_, nor was his Trouble less, that he had it not in his Power to give him any Advice in any Exigence so uncommon: He did all he cou’d to comfort and divert his Sorrows, but in vain, the Wounds of bleeding Love admit no Ease, but from the Hand which gave them; and he, who was naturally rash and fiery, now grew to that height of Desparation and violence of Temper, that the Count fear’d some fatal Catastrophe, and wou’d not suffer him to stir from him that Night, nor the next Day, till he had oblig’d him to make a Vow, and bind it with the most solemn Imprecations, not to offer any thing against his Life.

But, tho’ plung’d into the lowest depth of Misery, and lost, to all Humane probability, in an inextricable Labyrinth of Woe, _Fortune_ will find, at last some way, to raise, and disentangle those, whom she is pleas’d to make her Favourites, and that Monsieur _Frankville_ was one, an unexpected Adventure made him know.

The third Day from that, in which he had seen _Camilla_, as he was sitting in his Chamber, in a melancholly Conversation with the Count, who was then come to Visit him, his Servant brought him a Letter, which he said had been just left, by a Woman of an extraordinary Appearance, and who the Moment she had given it into his Hand, got from the Door with so much speed, that she seem’d rather to vanish than to walk.

While the Servant was speaking, _Frankville_ look’d on the Count with a kind of a pleas’d Expectation in his Eye, but then casting them on the Direction of the Letter, Alas! Said he, how vain was my Imagination, this is not _Camilla’s_, but a Hand, to which I am utterly a Stranger; these Words were clos’d with a sigh, and he open’d it with Negligence which wou’d have been unpardonable, cou’d he have guess’d at the Contents, but assoon as he saw the Name of Violetta at the bottom, a flash of Hope re-kindled in his Soul, and trembling with Impatience he Read.

To Monsieur FRANKVILLE.

_I think it cannot be call’d Treachery, if we betray the
Secrets of a Friend, only when Concealment were an Injury, but
however I may be able to answer this breach of Trust, I am
about to make to my self, ’tis your Behaviour alone, which can
absolve me to CAMILLA, and by your Fidelity she must judge of
MINE._