Chapter XII: Letter II: To the Ungrateful D’ELMONT (4)

_Tho’ Daughter to the Man she hates, she finds nothing in me
Unworthy of her Love and Confidence, and as I have been privy,
ever since your mutual Misfortunes, to the whole History of
your Amour, so I am now no Stranger to the Sentiments, your
last Conversation has inspir’d her with--She loves you still,
MONSIEUR--with an extremity of Passion loves you,----But, tho’
she ceases to believe you unworthy of it, her Indignation for
your unjust Suspicion of her will not be easily remov’d--She is
resolv’d to act the HEROINE, tho’ to purchase that Character
it shou’d cost her Life: She is determin’d for a Cloyster, and
has declared her Intention, and a few Days will take away all
Possibility of ever being yours; but I, who know the conflicts
she endures, wish it may be in your Power to prevent the
Execution of a Design, which cannot, but be fatal to her: My
Father and CIAMARA, I wish I cou’d not call her Aunt, were last
Night in private Conference, but I over heard enough of their
Discourse, to know there has been some ungenerous Contrivance
carry’d on to make you, and CAMILLA appear guilty to each
other, and ’tis from that Knowledge I derive my Hopes, that
you have Honour enough to make a right Use of this Discovery,
if you have anything to say, to further the Intercessions I
am imploy’d in, to serve you; Prepare a Letter, which I will
either prevail on her to READ, or oblige her, in spite of the
Resolution she has made, to HEAR: But take care, that in the
least, you hint not that you have receiv’d one from me, for I
shall perswade her that the Industry of your Love has found
means of conveying it to me, without my Knowledge: Bring it
with you this Evening to St. PETER’S, and assoon as Divine
Service is over, follow her who shall drop her Handkerchief as
she passes you, for by that Mark you shall distinguish her whom
you yet know, but by the Name of_

Violetta.

P.S. _One thing, and indeed not the least, which induc’d me
to write, I had almost forgot, which is, that your Friend the
Accomplish’d Count D’ELMONT, is as much endangered by the
Resentment of CIAMARA, as your self by that of my Father, bid
him beware how he receives any Letter, or Present from a Hand
unknown, lest he should Experience, what he has doubtless heard
of, our ITALIAN Art of Poysoning by the smell._

When Monsieur _Frankville_ had given this Letter to the Count to read, which he immediately did, they both of them broke into the highest Encomiums on this young Lady’s Generosity, who contrary to the custom of her Sex, which seldom forgives an affront of that kind, made it her study to serve the Man who had refus’d her, and make her Rival blest.

These Testimonies of a grateful Acknowledgement being over, _Frankville_ told the Count, he believ’d the most, and indeed the only effectual Means to extinguish _Camilla’s_ Resentment wou’d be entirely to remove the Cause, which cou’d be done no other way, than by giving her a full Account of _Ciamara’s_ behaviour, while she pass’d for her: _D’elmont_ readily consented, and thought it not at all inconsistent with his Honour to Expose that of a Woman who had shewn so little Value for it herself: And when he saw that _Frankville_ had finish’d his Letter, which was very long, for Lovers cannot easily come to a Conclusion, he offer’d to write a Note to her, enclos’d in the other, which shou’d serve as an Evidence of the Truth of what he had alledged in his Vindication: _Frankville_ gladly embrac’d the kind Proposal, and the other immediately made it good in these Words.

To _Donna_ CAMILLA.

Madam,

_If the Severity of your Justice requires a VICTIM, I only am
Guilty, who being Impos’d upon my self, ENDEAVOUR’D, for I
cannot say I cou’d ACCOMPLISH it, to involve the Unfortunate
FRANKVILLE in the same fatal Error, and at last, prevail’d on
him to WRITE, what he cou’d not be brought, by all my Arguments
to THINK._

_Let the Cause which led me to take this Freedom, excuse the
Presumption of it, which, from one so much a Stranger, wou’d be
else unpardonable: But when we are conscious of a Crime, the
first reparation we can make to Innocence, is, to acknowledge
we have offended; and, if the Confession of my Faults, may
purchase an Absolution for my Friend, I shall account it the
noblest Work of Supererogation._

_Be assur’d, that as inexorable as you are, your utmost Rigour
wou’d find its Satisfaction, if you cou’d be sensible of what I
suffer in a sad Repentance for my Sin of injuring so Heavenly
a Virtue, and perhaps, in time be mov’d by it, to Pity and
Forgive_

The Unhappily deceiv’d

D’elmont.

The time in which they had done Writing, immediately brought on that of _Violetta_’s Appointment, and the Count wou’d needs accompany Monsieur _Frankville_ in this Assignation, saying, he had an acknowledgment to pay to that Lady, which he thought himself oblig’d, in good Manners and Gratitude, to take this Opportunity to do; and the other being of the same Opinion, they went together to St. _Peter_’s.

When Prayers were done, which, ’tis probable, _One_ of these Gentlemen, if not _Both_, might think too tedious, they stood up, and looking round, impatiently expected when the promis’d Signal shou’d be given; but among the great Number of Ladies, which pass’d by them, there were very few, who did not stop a little to gaze on these two Accomplish’d _Chevaliers_, and they were several times Tantaliz’d with an _imaginary_ Violetta, before the _real_ one appear’d. But when the Crowd were almost dispers’d, and they began to fear some Accident had prevented her coming, the long expected Token was let fall, and she who threw it, trip’d hastily away to the farther end of the _Collonade_, which hapned to be entirely void of Company: The Count and his Companion, were not long behind her, and Monsieur _Frankville_ being the Person chiefly concern’d, address’d himself to her in this manner; With what Words, Madam, said he, can a Man so infinitely Oblig’d, and so desirous to be Grateful, as _Frankville_, sufficiently make known his admiration of a Generosity like yours? Such an unbounded Goodness, shames all Discription! Makes Language vile, since it affords no Phrase to suit your Worth, or speak the mighty Sense my Soul has of it. I have no other Aim, reply’d she, in what I have done, than Justice; and ’tis only in the proof of your sincerity to _Camilla_, that I am to be thank’d. _Frankville_ was about to answer with some assurances of his Faith, when the Count stepping forward, prevented him: My Friend, Madam, said he bowing, is most happy in having it in his Power to obey a Command, which is the utmost of his Wishes; but how must I acquit my self of any part of that Return which is due to you, for that generous Care you have been pleas’d to express for the preservation of my Life? There needs no more, interrupted she, with a perceivable alteration in her Voice, than to have _seen_ Count _D’elmont_, to be interested in his Concerns--she paus’d a little after speaking these Words, and then, as if she thought she had said too much, turn’d hastily to _Frankville_, the Letter, _Monsieur_, continu’d she, the Letter,---’tis not impossible but we may be observ’d,---I tremble with the apprehension of a Discovery: _Frankville_ immediately deliver’d it to her, but saw so much Disorder in her Gesture, that it very much surpriz’d him: She trembled indeed, but whether occasioned by any danger she perceiv’d of being taken notice of, or some other secret Agitation she felt within, was then unknown to any but herself, but whatever it was, it transported her so far, as to make her quit the Place, without being able to take any other Leave than a hasty _Curtisie_, and bidding _Frankville_ meet her the next Morning at _Mattins_.

Here was a new Cause of Disquiet to _D’elmont_; the Experience he had of the too fatal influence of his dangerous Attractions, gave him sufficient Reason to fear this young Lady was not insensible of them, and that his Presence was the sole Cause of her Disorder; however, he said nothing of it to _Frankville_ ’till the other mentioning it to him, and repeating her Words, they both joyn’d in the Opinion, that Love had been too busy in her Heart, and that it was the feeling the Effects of it in herself, had inclined her to so much Compassion for the Miseries she saw it inflicted upon others. The Count very well knew that when Desires of this Kind are springing in the Soul, every Sight of the beloved Object, encreases their growth, and therefore, tho’ her generous manner of Proceeding had created in him a very great Esteem, and he wou’d have been pleas’d with her Conversation, yet he ceas’d to wish a farther Acquaintance with her, lest it should render her more Unhappy, and forbore going the next Day to Church with _Frankville_, as else he wou’d have done.

VIOLETTA fail’d not to come as she had promis’d, but instead of dropping her Handkerchief, as she had done the Evening before, she knelt as close to him as she cou’d, and pulling him gently by the Sleeve, oblig’d him to regard her, who else, not knowing her, wou’d not have suspected she was so near, and slip’d a Note into his Hand, bidding him softly, not take any farther notice of her: He obey’d, but ’tis reasonable to believe, was too impatient to know what the Contents were, to listen with much Attention and Devotion to the remainder of the Ceremony; as soon he was releas’d, he got into a Corner of the _Cathedral_, where, unobserv’d he might satisfy a Curiosity, which none who Love, will condemn him for, any more than they will for the thrilling Extacy which fill’d his Soul at the Reading these Lines.

To Monsieur FRANKVILLE.

_For fear I should not have an Opportunity of speaking to you,
in safety, I take this Method to inform you, that I have been
so Successful in my Negotiation, as to make CAMILLA repent
the Severity of her Sentence, and wish for nothing more than
to recall it: you are now entirely justified in her Opinion,
by the Artifice which was made use of to Deceive you, and she
is, I believe, no less enrag’d at CIAMARA, for depriving her
of that Letter you sent by the COUNT, than she was at you for
that unkind one, which came to her Hands. She is now under less
restraint, since BRIONE’s Report of her Behaviour to you, and
the everlasting Resentment she vow’d, and I have prevail’d on
her to accompany me in a Visit I am to make, to morrow in the
Evening, to DONNA CLARA METTELINE, a Nun, in the Monastery of
St. AUGUSTINE, and if you will meet us there, I believe it not
impossible but she may be brought to a Confession of all I have
discover’d to you of her Thoughts._

_The COUNT’S Letter was of no small Service to you, for tho’
without that Evidence she wou’d have been convinc’d of your
Constancy, yet she wou’d hardly have acknowledged she was so!
and if he will take the Pains to come with you to morrow I
believe his Company will be acceptable, if you think it proper;
you may let him know as much from_

Violetta.

P.S. _I beg a thousand Pardons both of you and the COUNT, for
the abruptness of my Departure last Night; something happen’d
to give me a Confusion from which I cou’d not at that time
recover, but hope for the future to be more Mistress of my
self._

Monsieur _Frankville_ hasted to the _Count_’s Lodgings, to communicate his good Fortune, but found him in a Humour very unfit for Congratulations; the Post had just brought him a Letter from his Brother, the Chevalier _Brillian_, the Contents whereof were these.

_To Count_ D’ELMONT.

MY LORD,

_’Tis with an inexpressible Grief that I obey the Command you
left me, for giving you from Time to time an exact Account
of MELLIORA’s Affairs, since what I have now to acquaint you
with, will make you stand in Need of all your Moderation to
support it. But, not to keep your Expectation on the Rack, loth
as I am, I must inform you, that MELLIORA is, by some unknown
Ravisher stolen from the Monastery----The manner of it, (as I
have since learn’d from those who were with her) was thus: As
she was walking in the Fields, behind the Cloyster Gardens,
accompanied by some young Lady’s, Pensioners there as well as
her self, four Men well mounted, but Disguis’d and Muffled,
rode up to them, three of them jump’d off their Horses, and
while one seiz’d on the defenceless Prey; and bore her to
his Arms, who was not alighted, the other two caught hold of
her Companions, and prevented the Out-cries they would have
made, ’till she was carry’d out of sight, then Mounting again
their Horses, immediately lost the amaz’d Virgins all Hopes of
recovering her._

_I conjure my dearest Brother to believe there has been nothing
omitted for the Discovery of this Villany, but in spite of all
the Pains and Care we have taken in the search; None of us have
yet been happy enough to hear the least Account of her: That my
next may bring you more welcome News, is the first wish of_

My Lord,

Your Lordship’s most Zealously Affectionate Brother,
and Humble Servant

_Brillian_.

P.S. _There are some People here, Malicious enough to Report,
that the Design of carrying away MELLIORA, was contriv’d by
you, and that it is in ROME she only can be found. It wou’d be
of great Advantage to my Peace, if I cou’d be of the Number of
those who believe it, but I am too well acquainted with your
Principles to harbour such a Thought. Once more, my dear Lord,
for this Time, ADIEU._

After the Count had given this Letter to _Frankville_ to read, he told him, he was resolv’d to leave _Rome_ the next Day, that nobody had so great an Interest in her Recovery as himself, that he would Trust the Search of her to no other, and swore with the most dreadful Imprecations he could make, never to rest, but wander, _Knight-Errand_ like, over the whole World ’till he had found her.

Tho’ Monsieur _Frankville_ was extreamly concern’d at what had happen’d to his Sister, yet he endeavour’d to disswade the Count from leaving _Rome_, ’till he knew the result of his own Affair with _Camilla_; but all his Arguments were for a long time ineffectual, ’till, at last, showing him _Violetta_’s Letter, he prevail’d on him to defer his Journey ’till they had first seen _Camilla_, on Condition, that if she persisted in her Rigour, he shou’d give over any further fruitless Solicitations, and accompany him to _Paris_: This _Frankville_ promis’d to perform, and they pass’d the time in very uneasy and impatient Cogitations, ’till the next Day about Five in the Evening they prepar’d for the Appointment.

Count _D’elmont_ and his longing Companion, were the first at the Rendezvous, but in a very little while they perceiv’d two Women coming towards them: The Idea of _Camilla_ was always too much in _Frankville_’s Thoughts, not to make him know her, by that charming Air (which he so much ador’d her for) tho’ she was Veil’d never so closely, and the Moment he had sight of them, Oh Heaven (cry’d he to _D’elmont_) yonder she comes, that,----that my Lord, is the divine _Camilla_, as they came pretty near, she that indeed prov’d to be _Camilla_, was turning on one Side, in order to go to the Grate where she expected the _Nun_. Hold! Hold _Donna Camilla_, cry’d _Violetta_, I cannot suffer you shou’d pass by your Friends with an Air so unconcern’d, if Monsieur _Frankville_ has done any thing to merit your Displeasure, my Lord the Count certainly deserves your Notice, in the Pains he has taken to undeceive you. One so much a Stranger as Count _D’elmont_ is, answer’d she, may very well excuse my Thanks for an explanation, which had he been acquainted with me he would have spar’d. Cruel _Camilla!_ Said _Frankville_, is then the knowledge of my Innocence unwelcome?---Am I become so hateful, or are you so chang’d, that you wish me guilty, for a justification of your Rigour? If it be so, I have no Remedy but Death, which tho’ you depriv’d me of, the last time I saw you, I now can find a Thousand means to compass; he pronounc’d these Words in so Tender, yet so resolv’d an Accent; that _Camilla_ cou’d not conceal part of the Impression they made on her, and putting her Handkerchief to her Eyes, which in spite of all she had done to prevent it, overflow’d with Tears; talk not of Death, said she, I am not Cruel to that degree, Live _Frankville_, Live!----but Live without _Camilla!_ Oh, ’tis impossible! Resum’d he, the latter part of your Command entirely destroys the first.---Life without your Love, would be a Hell, which I confess my Soul’s a Coward, but to think of.

The Count and _Violetta_ were Silent all this Time, and perceiving they were in a fair way of Reconciliation, thought the best they cou’d do to forward it, was to leave ’em to themselves, and walking a few Paces from them; You suffer my Lord, said the, for your Generosity in accompanying your Friend, since it condemns you to the Conversation of a Person, who has neither _Wit_, nor _Gaiety_ sufficient to make her self Diverting. Those, reply’d he, who wou’d make the Excellent _Violetta_ a Subject of Diversion, ought never to be blest with the Company of any, but such Women who merit not a serious Regard: But you indeed, were your Soul capable of descending to the Follies of your Sex, wou’d be extreamly at a Loss in Conversation so little Qualify’d as mine, to please the Vanities of the Fair; and you stand in need of all those more than _Manly_ Virtues you possess, to pardon a _Chagreen_, which even your Presence cannot Dissipate: If it cou’d, interrupted she, I assure your Lordship, I shou’d much more _rejoice_ in the happy Effects of it on you, than _Pride_ my self in the Power of such an Influence--And yet continu’d she with a Sigh, I am a very Woman, and if free from the usual Affectations and Vanities of my Sex, I am not so from Faults, perhaps, less worthy of forgiveness: The Count cou’d not presently resolve what reply to make to these Words; he was unwilling she should believe he wanted Complaisance, and afraid of saying any thing that might give room for a Declaration of what he had no Power of answering to her wish; but after the consideration of a Moment or two, Madam, said he, tho’ I dare not Question your Sincerity in any other Point, yet you must give me leave to disbelieve you in this, not only, because, in my Opinion, there is nothing so contemptibly ridiculous as that self sufficiency, and vain desire of pleasing, commonly known by the Name of _Coquetry_, but also, because she who escapes the Contagion of this Error, will not without much difficulty be led into any other: Alas my Lord, cry’d _Violetta_, how vastly wide of Truth is this Affection? That very foible, which is most pernicious to our Sex, is chiefly by _Coquetry_ prevented: I need not tell you that ’tis Love I mean, and as blamable as you think the _one_, I believe the _other_ wou’d find less favour from a Person of your Lordship’s Judgment: How Madam, interrupted the Count, pretty warmly, have I the Character of a Stoick?---Or do you, imagine that my Soul, is compos’d that course Stuff, not to be capable of receiving, or approving a Passion, which, all the Brave, and generous think it their glory to Profess, and which can only give refin’d delight, to Minds enobled.----But I perceive, continu’d he growing more cool, I am not happy enough in your Esteem, to be thought worthy the Influence of that God. Still you mistake my Meaning, said _Violetta_, I doubt not of your Sensibility, were there a possibility of finding a Woman worthy of Inspiring you with soft Desires; and if that shou’d ever happen, Love wou’d be so far from being a weakness, that it wou’d serve rather as an Embelishment to your other Graces; it’s only when we stoop to Objects below our Consideration, or vainly wing our wishes to those above our Hopes, that makes us appear ridiculous or contemptible; but either of these is a Folly which,----which the incomparable _Violetta_, interrupted _D’elmont_, never can be guilty of: You have a very good Opinion of my Wit resum’d she, in a melancholly Tone, but I shou’d be much happier than I am, if I were sure I cou’d secure my self from doing any thing to forfeit it: I believe, reply’d the Count there are not many things you have less Reason to apprehend than such a Change; and I am confident were I to stay in _Rome_ as many _Ages_, as I am determin’d to do but _Hours_, I shou’d, at last, leave it, with the same Esteem and Admiration of your singular Vertues, as I now shall do. _Violetta_ cou’d not prevent the Disorder these Words put her into, from discovering it self in the Accent of her Voice, when, How! My Lord, said she, are we then to lose you?---Lose you in so short a Time? As the Count was about to answer, _Frankville_ and _Camilla_ joyn’d them, and looking on _Frankville_, if any Credit, said he, may be given to the Language of the Eyes, I am certain yours speak Success, and I may congratulate a Happiness you lately cou’d not be persuaded to hope; had I a thousand Eyes, cry’d the transported Lover, a thousand Tongues, they all wou’d be but insignificant to express the Joy!----the unbounded Extacy, my Soul is full of,----but take the mighty Meaning in one Word,----_Camilla_’s mine---for ever mine!---the Storm is past, and all the sunny Heaven of Love returns to bless my future Days with ceaseless Raptures: Now, my Lord, I am ready to attend you in your Journey, this Bright! This beauteous Guardian Angel, will partake our Flight! And we have nothing now to do, but to prepare with secrecy and speed fit means for our Escape. As soon as _Frankville_ had left off speaking, Count _D’elmont_ addressing himself to _Camilla_, made her abundance of Retributions, for the happiness she gave his Friend, which she receiving with a becoming Chearfulness, and unaffected Gaiety, I am afraid said she, your Lordship will think a Woman’s Resolution is, henceforth, little worth regarding; but, continu’d she, taking _Violetta_ by the Hand, I see well, that this unfaithful Creature, has betray’d me, and to punish her Infidelity, will, by leaving her, put it out of her Power to deceive my Confidence again: _Violetta_ either did not hear, or was not in a condition to return her _Raillery_, nor the Praises which the Count and Monsieur _Frankville_ concurr’d in of her Generosity, but stood motionless and lost in Thought, till _Camilla_ seeing it grow towards Night, told the Gentlemen, she thought it best to part, not only to avoid any Suspicion at Home of their being out so long, but also that the others might order every thing proper for their Departure, which it was agreed on between _Frankville_ and her, should be the next Night, to prevent the Success of those mischievous Designs she knew _Ciamara_ and _Cittolini_ were forming, against both the Count and Monsieur _Frankville_.

Matters being thus adjusted to the entire Satisfaction of the Lovers, and not in a much less proportion to the Count, they all thought it best to avoid making any more Appointments till they met to part no more; which was to be at the Wicket at dead of Night. When the Count took leave of _Violetta_, this being the last time he cou’d expect to see her; she was hardly able to return his Civilities, and much less to answer those which _Frankville_ made her, after the Count had turn’d from her to give him way; both of them guess’d the Cause of her Confusion, and _D’elmont_ felt a concern in observing it, which nothing but that for _Melliora_ cou’d surpass.

The next Day found full Employment for them all; but the Count, as well as _Frankville_, was too impatient to be gone, to neglect any thing requisite for their Departure, there was not the least particular wanting, long before the time they were to wait at the Wicket for _Camilla_’s coming forth: The Count’s Lodging being the nearest, they stay’d there, watching for the long’d for Hour; but a little before it arriv’d, a Youth, who seem’d to be about 13 or 14 Years of Age, desir’d to be admitted to the Count’s presence, which being granted, pulling a Letter out of his Pocket, and blushing as he approach’d him: I come my Lord, said he, from _Donna Violetta_, the Contents of this will inform you on what Business; but lest the Treachery of others, shou’d render me suspected, permit me to break it open, and prove it carries no Infection: The Count look’d earnestly on him while he spoke, and was strangely taken with the uncommon Beauty and Modesty which he observ’d in him: You need not give your self the trouble of that Experiment, answer’d he, _Donna Violetta_’s Name, and your own engaging Aspect, are sufficient Credentials, if I were liable to doubt; in saying this, he took the Letter, and full of Fears that some Accident had happen’d to _Camilla_, which might retard their Journey, hastily read over these Lines.

_To the Worthy_ Count D’ELMONT.

My LORD,

_If any Part of that Esteem you Profess’d to have for me, be
real, you will not deny the Request I make you to accept this
Youth, who is my Relation, in Quality of a Page: He is inclin’d
to Travel, and of all Places, FRANCE is that which he is most
desirous of going to: If a diligent CARE, a faithful Secresy,
and an Unceasing watchfulness to please, can render him
acceptable to your Service, I doubt not but he will, by those,
Recomend himself, hereafter: In the mean Time beg you will
receive him on my Word: And if that will be any Inducement to
prejudice you in his Favour, I assure you, that tho’ he is one
degree nearer in Blood to my Father, he is by many in Humour
and Principles to_

Violetta.

P.S. _May Health Safety and Prosperity attend you in your
Journey, and all the Happiness you wish for, crown the End._

The Young _Fidelio_, for so he was call’d, cou’d not wish to be receiv’d with greater Demonstrations of Kindness than those the Count gave him: And perceiving that _Violetta_ had trusted him with the whole Affair of their leaving _Rome_ in private, doubted not of his Conduct, and consulted with him, who they found knew the Place perfectly well, after what manner they should Watch, with the least danger of being discover’d, for _Camilla_’s opening the Wicket: _Frankville_ was for going alone, lest if any of the Servants shou’d happen to be about, one Person would be less liable to suspicion, than it a Company were seen; the Count thought it most proper to go all together, remembring _Frankville_ of the danger he had lately scap’d, and might again be brought into; but _Fidelio_ told them, he wou’d advise that they two should remain conceal’d in the _Portico_, of the Convent of St. _Francis_, while himself wou’d watch alone at the Wicket for _Camilla_, and lead her to them, and then afterwards they might go altogether to that Place where the Horses and Servants shou’d attend them; the Page’s Counsel was approv’d by both of them, and the time being arriv’d, what they had contriv’d was immediately put in Execution.

Every thing happen’d according to their Desire, _Camilla_ got safely to the Arms of her impatient Lover, and they all taking Horse, rode with such Speed, as some of them wou’d have been little able to bear, if any thing less than Life and Love had been at Stake.

Their eager wishes, and the goodness of their Horses brought them, before Day-break many Miles from _Rome_; but tho’ they avoided all high Roads, and travell’d cross the Country to prevent being met, or overtook by any that might know them, yet their desire of seeing themselves in a Place of Security was so great that they refus’d to stop to take any Refreshment ’till the next Day was almost spent; but when they were come into the House where they were to lye that Night, not all the fatigue they had endur’d, kept the Lovers from giving and receiving all the Testimonies imaginable of mutual Affection.

The sight of their Felicity added new Wings to Count _D’elmont_’s impatience to recover _Melliora_, but when he consider’d the little probability of that hope, he grew inconsolable, and his new Page _Fidelio_, who lay on a _Pallet_ in the same Room with him, put all his Wit, of which he had no small Stock, upon the stretch to divert his Sorrows, he talk’d to him, sung to him, told him a hundred pretty Stories, and, in fine, made good the Character _Violetta_ had given him so well, that the Count look’d on him as a Blessing sent from Heaven to lessen his Misfortunes, and make his Woes sit easy.

They continu’d Travelling with the same Expedition as when they first set out, for three or four Days, but then, believing themselves secure from any Pursuit, began to slacken their Pace, and make the Journey more delightful to _Camilla_ and _Fidelio_, who not being accustomed to ride in that manner, wou’d never have been able to support it, if the strength of their _Minds_, had not by far, exceeded that of their _Bodies_.

They had gone so much about, in seeking the By-roads, that they made it three times as long before they arriv’d at _Avigno_, a small Village on the Borders of _Italy_, as any, that had come the direct way wou’d have done; but the Caution they had observ’d, was not altogether needless, as they presently found.

A Gentleman who had been a particular Acquaintance of Monsieur _Frankville_’s, overtook them at this Place, and after expressing some Amazement to find ’em no farther on their Journey, told Monsieur _Frankville_ he believ’d he cou’d inform him of some things which had happen’d since his Departure, and cou’d not yet have reach’d his Knowledge, which the other desiring him to do, the Gentleman began in this manner.

It was no sooner Day, said he, than it was nois’d over all the City, that Donna _Camilla_, Count _D’elmont_, and your self, had privately left _Rome_; every Body spoke of it, according to their Humour; but the Friends of _Ciamara_ and _Cittolini_ were outragious, a Complaint was immediately made to the _Consistory_, and all imaginable Deligence us’d, to overtake, or stop you, but you were so happy as to Escape, and the Pursuers return’d without doing any thing of what they went about: Tho’ _Cittolini_’s disappointment to all appearance, was the greatest, yet _Ciamara_ bore it with the least Patience, and having vainly rag’d, offer’d all the Treasure she was Mistress of, and perhaps spent the best part of it in fruitless means to bring you back, at last she swallow’d Poison, and in the raving agonies of Death, confess’d, that it was not the loss of _Camilla_, but Count _D’elmont_ which was the Cause of her Despair: Her Death gave a fresh occasion of Grief to _Cittolini_, but the Day in which she was interr’d, brought him yet a nearer; he had sent to his _Villa_ for his Daughter _Violetta_ to assist at the Funeral, and the Messenger return’d with the surprizing Account of her not having been there as she pretended she was, nothing was ever equal to the Rage, the Grief, and the Amazement of this distracted Father, when after the strictest Enquiry, and Search that cou’d be made, she was no where to be found or heard of, it threw him into a Fever, of which he linger’d but a small Time, and dy’d the same Day on which I left _Rome_.

The Gentleman who made this recital, was entirely a Stranger to any of the Company but Monsieur _Frankville_, and they were retired into a private Room during the time of their Conversation, which lasted not long; _Frankville_, was impatient to communicate to Camilla and _D’elmont_ what he had heard, and as soon as Civility wou’d permit, took leave of the Gentleman.

The Count had too much Compassion in his Nature not to be extreamly troubled when he was told this melancholly Catastrophe; but _Camilla_ said little; the ill usage of _Ciamara_, and the impudent, and interested Pretensions of _Cittolini_ to her, kept her from being so much _concern’d_ at their Misfortunes, as she wou’d have been at any other Persons, and the generosity of her Temper, or some other Reason which the Reader will not be ignorant of, hereafter, from expressing any _Satisfaction_ in the Punishment they had met: But when the Count, who most of all lamented _Violetta_, express’d his Astonishment and Affliction, at her Elopement, she joyn’d with him in the Praises of that young Lady, with an eagerness which testify’d, she had no part in the Hatred she bore her Father.

While they were discoursing, _Camilla_ observ’d, that _Fidelio_ who was all this while in the Room, grew very pale, and at last saw him drop on the Ground, quite Senseless, she run to him, as did his Lord, and Monsieur _Frankville_, and after, by throwing Water in his Face, they brought him to himself again, he appear’d in such an Agony that they fear’d his Fit wou’d return, and order’d him to be laid on a Bed, and carefully attended.

After they had taken a short Repast, they began to think of setting forward on their Journey, designing to reach _Piedmont_ that Night: The Count went himself to the Chamber where his Page was laid, and finding he was very ill, told him he thought it best for him to remain in that Place, that he wou’d order Physicians to attend him, and that when he was fully recover’d, he might follow them to _Paris_ with Safety. _Fidelio_ was ready to faint a second time at the hearing these Words, and with the most earnest Conjurations, accompany’d with Tears, begg’d that he might not be left behind: I can but die, said he, if I go with you, but I am sure, that nothing if I stay can _save_ me: The Count seeing him so pressing, sent for a _Litter_, but there was none to be got, and in spite of what _Camilla_ or _Frankville_ cou’d say to diswade him, having his Lord’s Leave, he ventured to attend him as he had done the former part of the Journey.

They Travell’d at an easy rate, because of _Fidelio_’s Indisposition, and it being later than they imagin’d, Night came upon ’em before they were aware of it, Usher’d in, by one of the most dreadful Storms that ever was; the Rain, the Hail; the Thunder, and the Lightning, was so Violent that it oblig’d ’em to mend their Pace to get into some Place of shelter, for there was no House near: But to make their Misfortune the greater, they miss’d the Road, and rode considerably out of their way, before they perceiv’d that they were wrong; the darkness of the Night, which had no Illumination than, now and then, a horrid flash of Lightning, the wildness of the Desart, which they had stray’d into, and the little Hopes they had of being able to get out of it, at least till Day, were sufficient to have struck Terror in the boldest Heart: _Camilla_ stood in need of all her Love, to Protect her from the Fears which were beginning to Assault her; but poor _Fidelio_ felt an inward Horror, which, by this dreadful Scene encreas’d, made him appear wholly desparate: Wretch that I am, cry’d he, ’tis for me the Tempest rises! I justly have incurr’d the wrath of Heaven,---and you who are Innocent, by my accurs’d Presence are drawn to share a Punishment only due to Crimes like Mine! In this manner he exclaim’d wringing his Hands in bitter Anguish, and rather _Exposing_ his lovely Face to all the Fury of the Storm, than any way endeavouring to _Defend_ it: His Lord, and the two generous Lovers, tho’ Harass’d almost to Death themselves, said all they cou’d to comfort him; the Count and Monsieur _Frankville_ consider’d his Words, rather as the Effects of his Indisposition, and the fatigue he endur’d, than remorse for any Crime he cou’d have been guilty of, and the pity they had for one so young and innocent, made the cruelty of the Weather more insupportable to them.

At last, after long wandring, and the Tempest still encreasing, one of the Servants, who was before, was happy enough to explore a Path, and cry’d out to his Lord with a great deal of Joy, of the Discovery he had made; they were all of Opinion that it must lead to some House, because the Ground was beat down, as if with the Feet of Passengers, and entirely free from Stubble, Stones and stumps of Trees, as the other part of the Desart they come thro’ was Encumber’d with.

They had not rode very far before they discern’d Lights, the Reader may imagine the Joy this Sight produc’d, and that they were not slow in making their approach, Encourag’d by such a wish’d for Signal of Success: When they came pretty near, they saw by the Number of Lights, which were dispers’d in several Rooms distant from each other, that it was a very large and magnificent House, and made no doubt, but that it was the Country-Seat of some Person of great Quality: The wet Condition they were in, made them almost asham’d of appearing, and they agreed not to Discover who they were, if they found they were unknown.

They had no sooner knock’d, than the Gate was immediately open’d by a Porter, who asking their Business, the Count told him they were Gentlemen, who had been so Unfortunate to mistake the Road to _Piedmont_, and desir’d the Owners leave for Refuge in his House, for that Night; that is a Curtesy, said the Porter, which my Lord never refuses; and in Confidence of his Assent, I may venture to desire you to alight, and bid you welcome: They all accepted the Invitation, and were conducted into a stately Hall, where they waited not long before the Marquess _De Saguillier_, having been inform’d they appear’d like People of Condition, came himself to confirm the Character his Servant had given of his Hospitality. He was a Man perfectly well Bred, and in spite of the Disadvantages their Fatigue had subjected them to, he saw something in the Countenance of these Travellers, which commanded his Respect, and engag’d him to receive them with a more than ordinary Civility.

Almost the first thing the Count desir’d, was, that his Page might be taken care of; he was presently carry’d to Bed, and _Camilla_ (to whom the Marquess made a thousand Apologies, that being a Batchellor, he cou’d not Accommodate her, as he cou’d the Gentlemen) was show’d to a Chamber, where some of the Maid Servants attended to put her on dry Cloaths.

They were splendidly Entertain’d that Night, and when Morning came, and they were preparing to take Leave, the Marquess, who was strangely Charm’d with their Conversation, Entreated them to stay two or three Days with him, to recover themselves of the Fatigue they had suffer’d: The Count’s impatience to be at _Paris_, to enquire after his Dear _Melliora_, wou’d never have permitted him to consent, if he had not been oblig’d to it, by being told, that _Fidelio_ was grown much worse, and not in a Condition to Travel; _Frankville_ and _Camilla_ had said nothing, because they wou’d not Oppose the _Count_’s Inclination, but were extreamly glad of an Opportunity to rest a little longer, tho sorry for the Occasion.

The Marquess omitted nothing that might make their Stay agreeable; but tho’ he had a longing Inclination to know the Names, and Quality of his Guests, he forbore to ask, since he found they were not free to discover themselves: The Conversation between these accomplish’d Persons was extreamly Entertaining, and _Camilla_, tho’ an _Italian_, spoke _French_ well enough to make no inconsiderable part of it; the Themes of their Discourse were various, but at last happning to mention Love, the Marquess spoke of that Passion so feelingly, and express’d himself so vigorously when he attempted to excuse any of those Errors, it leads its Votaries into, that it was easy to Discover, he felt the Influence he endeavour’d to represent.

Night came on again, _Fidelio_’s Distemper encreas’d to that degree, that they all began to despair of his Recovery, at least they cou’d not hope it for a long Time, if at all, and Count _D’elmont_ fretted beyond measure at this unavoidable delay of the progress of his Journey to that Place, where he thought there was only a possibility of hearing of _Melliora_: As he was in Bed, forming a thousand various Idea’s, tho’ all tending to one Object, he heard the Chamber Door unlock, and opening his Curtains perceiv’d somebody come in; a Candle was burning in the next Room, and gave Light enough at the opening the Door, to show it was a Woman, but what Sort of one he cou’d not Discern, nor did he give himself the trouble of asking who was there, believing it might be one of the Servants come in to fetch something she wanted, ’till coming pretty near the Bed, she cry’d twice in a low Voice, are you a Sleep, no, answer’d he, a little surpriz’d at this Disturbance; what wou’d you have? I come said she, to talk to you, and I hope you are more a _Chevalier_, than to prefer a little Sleep, to the Conversation of a Lady, tho’ she Visits you at Midnight: These words made _D’elmont_ believe he had met with a second _Ciamara_, and lest he shou’d find the same Trouble with this as he had done with the former, he resolv’d to put a stop to it at once, and with an Accent as peevish as he cou’d turn his Voice to, the Conversation of Ladies reply’d he, is a Happiness I neither Deserve, nor much Desire at any Time, especially at this; therefore whoever you are, to oblige me, you must leave me to the freedom of my Thoughts, which at present afford me matter of Entertainment more suitable to my Humour than any thing I can find here! Oh Heavens! Said the Lady, is this the Courtly, the Accomplish’d Count _D’elmont_? So fam’d for Complaisance and Sweetness? Can it be he, who thus rudely Repels a Lady, when she comes to make him a Present of her Heart? The Count was very much amaz’d to find he was known in a Place where he thought himself wholly a Stranger, I perceive, answer’d he, with more Ill-humour if possible, than before, you are very well acquainted with my Name, which I shall never deny (tho’ for some Reasons I conceal’d it) but not at all with my Character, or you wou’d know, I can esteem the Love of a Woman, only when ’tis _Granted_, and think it little worth acceptance, _Proffer’d_. Oh unkind! Said she, but perhaps the sight of me, may inspire you with Sentiments less Cruel: With these Words she went hastily out of the Room to fetch the Candle she had left within; and the Count was so much surpriz’d and vex’d at the Immodesty and Imprudence he believ’d her Guilty of, that he thought he cou’d not put a greater affront upon her, than her Behaviour deserv’d, and turn’d himself with his Face the other way, designing to deny her the satisfaction even of a look; she return’d immediately, and having set down the Candle pretty near the Bed, came close to it her self, and seeing how he was laid; this is unkind indeed, said she, ’tis but one look I ask, and if you think me unworthy of another, I will for ever shun your Eyes: The Voice in which these Words were deliver’d, for those she spoke before were in a feign’d Accent, made the Heart-ravish’d _D’elmont_ turn to her indeed, with much more hast, than he had done to avoid her; those Dear, those well-remember’d sounds infus’d an Extacy, which none but _Melliora_’s cou’d create; he hear’d---he saw,---’twas she, that very she, whose Loss he had so much deplor’d, and began almost to despair of ever being able to Retrieve! Forgetting all Decorum, he flew out of the Bed, catch’d her in his Arms, and almost stifl’d her with Kisses; which she returning with pretty near an equal eagerness, you will not chide me from you now she cry’d? Those who have Experienc’d any part of that Transport, _D’elmont_ now was in, will know it was impossible for him to give her any other Answer, than repeating his Caresses; Words were too poor to Express what ’twas he felt, nor had he time to spare for Speech, employ’d in a far dearer, softer Oratory, than all the force of Language cou’d come up to!

But, when at last, to gaze upon her with more freedom, he releas’d her from that strict Embrace he had held her in, and she blushing, with down cast Eyes, began to reflect on the Effects of her unbounded passion, a sudden pang seiz’d on his Soul, and trembling, and convuls’d between extremity of _Joy_, and extremity of _Anguish_, I find thee _Melliora_, cry’d he; but Oh, my Angel! Where is it thou art found?---in the House of the young Amorous _Marquess D’Sanguillier!_ Cease, cease, interrupted she, your causeless Fears,----where ever I am found, I am,----I can be only yours.----And if you will return to Bed, I will Inform you, not only what Accident brought me hither, but also every particular of my Behaviour since I came.

These Words first put the Count in mind of the Indecency his Transport had made him Guilty of, in being seen in that manner, and was going hastily to throw on his Night Gown, when _Melliora_ perceiving his Intent, and fearing he wou’d take cold, told him she wou’d not stay a Moment, unless he granted her Request of returning to his Bed, which he, after having made her sit down on the Side of it, at last consented to: And contenting himself with taking one of her Hands, and pressing it between his, close Prisoner in his Bosom, gave her Liberty to begin in this Manner, the Discovery she had Promis’d.

After the sad Accident of _Alovysa_’s Death, said she, at my return to the Monastry I found a new _Pensioner_ there; it was the young _Madamoselle Charlotta D’Mezray_, who being lately left an Orphan, was entrusted to the Care of our _Abbess_, being her near Relation ’till her time of Mourning was expir’d, and she shou’d be married to this Marquess _D’Sanguillier_, at whose House we are; they were Contracted by their Parents in their Infancy, and nothing but the sudden Death of her Mother, had put a stop to the Consummation of what, _then_, they both wish’d with equal Ardour: But alas! Heaven which decreed the little Beauty I am Mistress of, shou’d be pernicious to my own repose, ordain’d it so, that this unfaithful Lover, seeing me one Day at the _Grate_ with _Charlotta_, shou’d fancy he found something in _Me_ more worthy of creating a Passion, than he had in her, and began to wish himself releas’d from his Engagement with her, that he might have Liberty to enter into another, which he imagin’d wou’d be more pleasing: Neither she, nor I had the least suspicion of his Sentiments, and we having commenc’d a very great Friendship, she wou’d for the most part, desire me to partake in the Visits he made her: He still continu’d to make the same protestations of Affection to her as ever; but if on any occasion, she but turn’d her Head, or cast her Eyes another way, he wou’d give me such looks, as, tho’ I then but little regarded, I have since understood the meaning of, but too well; in this manner he proceeded for some Weeks, ’till at last he came one Day extreamly out of Humour, and told _Charlotta_ the occasion of it was, that he had heard she gave Encouragement to some other Lover; she, amaz’d, as well she might, Avow’d her Innocence, and endeavour’d to Undeceive him, but he, who resolv’d not to be convinc’d, at least not to seem as if he was, pretended to be more enrag’d at what he call’d weak Excuses; said, he was satisfy’d she was more Guilty, even than he wou’d speak,----that he knew not if it were consistent with his Honour, ever to see her more.---And in short, behav’d himself in so unaccountable a manner, that there was no room to Doubt that he was either the most _Impos’d_ on, or most _Base_ of Men: It wou’d be endless for me to endeavour to represent poor _Charlotta_’s affliction. So I shall only say, it was answerable to the Tenderness she had for him, which, cou’d by nothing be exceeded, but by that, continu’d she Sighing, and looking Languishingly on him, which contrary to all the Resolutions I had made, brings _me_ to seek the Arms of my Enchanting _D’elmont_, to rouze Remembrance of his former Passion! To strengthen my Idea in his Heart! And Influence him a new with Love and Softness! This kind Digression made the Count give Truce to his _Curiosity_, that he might Indulge the Raptures of his _Love_, and raising himself in Bed, and pressing her slender fine proportioned Body close to his, wou’d permit her no otherwise, than in this Posture to continue her Discourse.

Several Days resum’d _Melliora_, were past, and we heard nothing of the Marquess, all which, as he has since told me, were spent in fruitless Projections to steal me from the Monastry; but at last, by the means of a _Lay Sister_, he found means to convey a Letter to me; the Contents of it, as near as I can remember, were these.

_To the Divine_ MELLIORA.

_’Tis not the falshood of CHARLOTTA, but the Charms of MELLIORA
have produc’d this Change in my Behaviour, do not therefore,
at the reading this, affect a surprize at Effects, which I
am sure cannot be uncommon to such Excellence! Nor accuse an
Inconstancy, which I rather esteem a Virtue than a Vice: To
Change from you indeed wou’d be the highest Sin, as well as
Stupidity: but to Change for you, is what all must, and ought
to do, who boast a Capacity of distinguishing. I love you, Oh
Divinest MELLIORA, I burn, I languish for you in unceasing
Torments, and you wou’d find it impossible for you to condemn
the boldness of this Declaration, if you cou’d be sensible of
the Racks which force me to it, and which must shortly End me,
if not happy enough to be receiv’d_

Your Lover,

D’SANGUILLIER.