_Louisa finds herself very much embarrassed by Melanthe's imprudent
behaviour. Monsieur du Plessis declares an honourable passion for her:
her sentiments and way of acting on that occasion_.
After the departure of monsieur du Plessis, Louisa fell into a serious
consideration of what had passed between them: not all the regard, which
she could not hinder herself from feeling for that young gentleman, nor
the pleasure she took in reflecting on the respect he paid her, made her
unmindful of what she owed Melanthe: the many obligations she had
received from her, and the friendship she had for her in return, made
her think she ought to acquaint her with the baseness of the count de
Bellfleur, in order to prevent an affection which she found she had
already too much indulged from influencing her to grant him any farther
favours; but this she knew was a very critical point to manage, and was
not without some apprehensions, which afterward she experienced were but
too well grounded; that when that lady found herself obliged to hate the
man she took pleasure in loving, she would also hate the woman who was
the innocent occasion of it. Few in the circumstances Louisa was, but
would have been swayed by this consideration, and chose rather to see
another become the prey of perfidy and deceit, than fall the victim of
jealousy herself; but the generosity of her nature would not suffer it
to have any weight with her, and she thought she could be more easy
under any misfortunes the discovery might involve her in, than in the
consciousness of not having discharged the obligations of duty and
gratitude in revealing what seemed so necessary to be known.
With this resolution, finding Melanthe was not come home, she went into
her chamber in order to wait her return, and relate the whole history to
her as she should undress for bed. But hour after hour elapsing without
any appearance of the person she expected, she thought to beguile the
tedious time by reading; and remembering that Melanthe had a very
agreeable book in her hand that morning, she opened a drawer, where she
knew that lady was accustomed to throw any thing in, which she had no
occasion to conceal; but how great was her surprise when, instead of
what she sought, she found the letter from count de Bellfleur which
Melanthe, in the hurry of spirits, had forgot to lock up. As it lay open
and was from him, she thought it no breach of honour to examine the
contents, but in doing so was ready to faint away between grief and
astonishment.
She was not insensible that Melanthe was charmed with this new lover,
and had always feared her liking him would sway her to some
imprudencies, but could not have imagined it would have carried her, at
least so soon, to such a guilty length as she now found it did.
Convinced by the hour in which she went out, and alone, that she had
complied with the appointment, and that all she would have endeavoured
to prevent was already come to pass, she now considered that the
discovery she had to make would only render this indiscreet lady more
unhappy, and therefore no longer thought herself obliged to run any
risque of incuring her ill-will on the occasion; but in her soul
extremely lamented this second fall from virtue, which it was impossible
should not bring on consequences equally, if not more shameful than
the first.
Good God! cried she, how is it possible for a woman of any share of
sense, and who has been blessed with a suitable education, to run thus
counter to all the principles of religion, honour, virtue, modesty, and
all that is valuable in our sex? and yet that many do, I have been a
melancholy witness:--and then again, what is there in this love, resumed
she, that so infatuates the understanding, that we doat on our
dishonour, and think ruin pleasing?--Can any personal perfections in a
man attone for the contempt he treats us with in courting us to
infamy!--the mean opinion he testifies to have of us sure ought rather
to excite hate than love; our very pride, methinks, should be a
sufficient guard, and turn whatever favourable thoughts we might have of
such a one, unknowing his design, into aversion, when once convinced he
presumed upon our weakness.
In these kind of reasonings did she continue some time; but reflecting
that the trouble she was in might put Melanthe on asking the cause, it
seemed best to her to avoid seeing her that night, so retired to her own
room and went to bed, ordering the servants to tell their lady, in case
she enquired for her, that she was a little indisposed.
While Louisa was thus deploring a misfortune she wanted power to remedy,
the person for whom she was concerned past her time in a far different
manner: the count omitted nothing that might convince her of his
gallantry, and give her a pretence for flattering herself with his
sincerity:--he swore ten thousand oaths of constancy, and she easily
gave credit to what she wished and had vanity enough to think she
merited:--he had prepared every thing that could delight the senses for
her reception at the house to which he carried her; and she found in
herself so little inclination to quit the pleasures she enjoyed, that it
was as much as the little remains of decency and care of reputation
could do, to make her tear herself away before midnight.
In the fullness of her heart she had doubtless concealed no part of this
adventure from Louisa, but on hearing she was gone to rest, and not very
well, would not disturb her. The first thing she did in the morning was
to run into the chamber and enquire after her health, which she did in
so affectionate and tender a manner, that it very much heightened the
other's trouble for her.
It is certain that, setting aside too loose a way of thinking of virtue
and religion, and adhering to that false maxim, that a woman of rank is
above censure, Melanthe had many amiable qualities, and as she truly
loved Louisa, was alarmed at her supposed indisposition, which, to
conceal the perplexity her mind was in, she still continued to
counterfeit, as well as to avoid going to a masquerade, to which they
had some days before been invited, and which the present situation of
her thoughts left her no relish for.
Melanthe would fain have perswaded her that this diversion would
contribute to restoring her; but she entreated to be excused, and the
other went without her.
Monsieur du Plessis in the mean time having informed the count de
Bellfleur, how much it was in vain for him to flatter himself with any
hopes of Louisa, that proud and inconstant nobleman was extremely
mortified, and said, that since she was so haughty, he was resolved to
contrive some way or other to get her into his power, as well out of
revenge as inclination. This, the other represented to him, would be a
very ungenerous way of proceeding; and said, that as she refused his
addresses merely out of a principle of virtue, and not for the sake of a
more favoured rival, he ought to content himself; but these arguments
were lost on a man whom pride of blood, and an affluence of fortune, had
rendered too insolent and head-strong to think any thing reason which
opposed his will; and they parted not well satisfied with each other,
tho' du Plessis concealed part of the dislike he had of his principles
and manner of behaviour, on account of a long friendship between their
families, and also as the count was his superior in birth, in years, and
in the post he held in the army.
He had no sooner left him than he came to Louisa, thinking it his duty
to give her warning of the count's design, and that it would be a proper
prelude to something else he had to say. As the servants knew she was
not perfectly well, they told him, they believed she would see no
company; but on his entreating it, and saying he had something of moment
to impart, one of them went in and repeated what he had said, on which
she gave leave for his admission.
He rejoiced to find her alone, as he came prepared to reveal to her more
secrets than that of the count's menace; but the pleasure he took in
having so favourable an opportunity was very much damped, by seeing her
look more pale than usual, and that she was in a night-dress. Fearful
that this change proceeded from what had passed between them the day
before, he asked with a hastiness, that shewed the most kind concern, if
she were well. No otherways disordered, answered she, than in my mind,
and that not sufficiently to have any effect over my health; but to
confess the truth, monsieur, said she, the continual round of diversion
this carnival affords, has made what the world calls pleasure, cease to
be so with me; and I find more solid satisfaction in retirement, where I
am in no danger of being too much flattered or affronted.
Ah! madam, cried he, I see the audacity of the count dwells too much
upon your thoughts, and tremble to relate the business on which I came,
and which it is yet necessary you should know. You mistake me, monsieur,
replied she; a common foe of virtue, such as the count, is incapable of
taking up my thoughts one moment; it is only those I love can give me
real pain.
I understand you, madam, resumed he, and am too much interested in your
concern not to simpathize on the occasion: the misfortunes, such as I
fear will attend the too great sensibility of Melanthe, may give you so
terrible an idea of love in general, that it will be difficult to
persuade you there can be any lasting happiness to be found in that
passion:--but, charming Louisa, continued he, if you will make the least
use of your penetration, and examine with a desire of being convinced,
you will easily distinguish the real passion from the counterfeit: that
love, whose supremest pleasure is in being capable to give felicity to
the beloved object; and that wild desire, which aims at no more than a
self-gratification:--the one has the authority of heaven for its
sanction;--the other no excuse but nature in its depravity. From all
attempts of the one, I am confident, your virtue and good sense will
always defend you; but to fly with too great obstinacy the other, is not
to answer the end of your creation; and deny yourself a blessing, which
you seem formed to enjoy in the most extensive degree.
Both the voice and manner in which monsieur du Plessis spoke, gave
Louisa some suspicion of what he aimed at in this definition, and filled
her at the same time with emotions of various kinds; but dissembling
them as well as she could, and endeavouring to turn what he said into
raillery, you argue very learnedly on this subject, it must be
confessed, answered she smiling; but all you can urge on that head, nor
the compliment you make me, can win me to believe that love of any kind
is not attended with more mischief than good:--where it is accompanied
with the strictest honour, constancy, purity, and all the requisites
that constitute what is called a perfect passion, there are ordinarily
so many difficulties in the way to the completion of its wishes, that
the breast which harbours it must endure a continual agitation, which
surely none would chuse to be involved in.
Ah! madam, how little are you capable of judging of this passion, said
he; there is a delicacy in love which renders even its pains pleasing,
and how much soever a lover suffers, the thoughts of for whom he suffers
is more than a compensation; I am myself an instance of this truth:--I
am a lover:--conscious unworthiness of a suitable return of affection,
and a thousand other impediments lie between me and hope, yet would I
not change this dear anxiety for that insipid case I lived in before I
saw the only object capable of making me a convert to love.--It is
certain my passion is yet young; but a few days has given it root which
no time, no absence, no misfortune ever can dislodge.--The charming maid
is ignorant of her conquest:--the carnival draws near to a
conclusion.--I must return to the army, and these cruel circumstances
oblige me either to make a declaration which she may possibly condemn as
too abrupt, or go and leave her unknowing of my heart, and thereby
deprive myself even of her pity:--Which party, madam, shall I
take?--Will the severe extreme, to which I am driven, be sufficient to
attone for a presumption which else would merit her disdain?
Louisa must have been as dull as she was really the contrary, not to
have known all this was meant to herself; and the pleasing confusion
which this discovery infused thro' all her veins, made her at the same
time sensible of the difference she put between him and all those who
before had entertained her on that subject; but not knowing presently
whether she ought to attribute it to her good or ill fortune, she was
wholly at a loss how to behave, and, to avoid giving any direct answer,
still affected an air of pleasantry.
See, cried she, the little reason you, have to speak in the praise of
love; for if pity be all you have to hope for from your, mistress, I am
afraid the consolation will be no way adequate to the misfortune.
Yet if you vouchsafe me that, replied he, kissing her hard, I never
shall complain. Me! interrupted she, pretending the utmost astonishment,
and drawing her chair somewhat farther from him. Yes, beautiful Louisa,
resumed he; it is you alone who have been capable of teaching me what
love truly is:--your eyes, at first sight, subdued my heart; but your
virtue has since made a conquest of my soul:--if I dare hope to make you
mine, it is only by such ways as heaven, and those who have the power of
disposing you, shall approve:--in the mean time I implore no more than
your permission to admire you, and to convince you, by all the
honourable services in my power to do you while you continue here, how
much my words are deficient to denote my meaning.
Louisa, now finding herself under a necessity of answering seriously,
told him, that if it were true that he had sentiments for her of the
nature he pretended, they would not only merit, but receive the most
grateful acknowledgments on her part; but at the same time she should be
sorry he had entertained them, and would wish him not to indulge a
prospect which could last no longer than while both remained in Venice,
and must infallibly vanish on their separation.
No, madam, replied he, when the next campaign is over, I shall return to
France; and sure the distance between that kingdom and England is not so
great, but a less motive than yourself would easily carry me thither;
and such credentials also of who, and what I am, as, I flatter myself,
would not appear contemptible in the eyes of your friends:--the prospect
therefore is not so visionary as you seem to think, provided I have
your consent.
The mention he made of her friends reminding her of her destitute
condition, gave her the utmost shock; which not being able to overcome,
she remained silent some moments; but at last perceiving he waited her
reply, monsieur, said she, there may be a thousand indissoluble bars
between us which you do not think of.
None, interrupted he eagerly, but what such love as mine will easily
surmount:--it is true, I am ignorant of your condition in the world; but
if it be superior to mine, the passion I am possessed of will inspire me
with means to raise me to an equality; and if inferior, which heaven
grant may be the case, it will only give the opportunity of proving that
I love Louisa for Louisa's self, and look upon every thing she brings
beside as nothing.
The emphasis he gave these words manifesting their sincerity, could not
but give new charms to the person who spoke them: Louisa thought she
might, without a blush, testify the sense she had of his generosity; but
tho' what she said was perfectly obliging to him, yet she concluded with
letting him know, there still was something that rendered the
accomplishment of what he seemed to wish impossible.
Then your heart already is engaged, cried he, or you are predestined by
your parents to some happier man? Without either of these, answered she,
there may be reasons to prevent our ever meeting more;--therefore I owe
so much to the honourable offers you are pleased to make me, as to wish
you to overcome whatever inclinations you may have for one who I once
more assure you never can be yours.
It would be impossible to express the distraction monsieur du Plessis
testified at this expression:--a thousand times over did he repeat that
dreadful word NEVER;--then added, neither engaged by love or promise,
yet never can be mine! does my ill fate come wrap'd to me in
riddles!--yet many things have seemed impossible that are not so in
themselves:--O Louisa! continued he, if there be any thing beside my
want of merit that impedes my wishes, and you delight not in my torment,
speak it I conjure you.
There is a necessity of denying you in this also, said Louisa; but to
shew you how little I am inclined to be ungrateful, be certain that I
have the highest idea of your merits, and prize them as much as I
ought to do.
These last words, obliging as they were, could not console monsieur du
Plessis for the cruelty, as he termed it, of refusing to let him know
what this invincible obstacle was which put a stop to any further
correspondence between them: he spared neither prayers nor tears to draw
the secret from her, but all were ineffectual; and she at last told him,
that if he pressed her any farther on that head, she must for the future
avoid his presence.
This was a menace which he had not courage to dare the execution of, and
he promised to conform to her will, tho' with such agonies, as shewed
her how much he valued even the little she was pleased to grant; but it
was not in the power of her perswasions to prevail on him to resolve to
make any efforts for the vanquishing his passion; he still protested
that he neither could cease to love her, and her alone, nor even to wish
an alteration in his sentiments.
By what has been already said of the extreme liking which the first
fight of this young gentleman inspired Louisa with, it may easily be
supposed she could not hear his complaints, and be witness of the
anxieties she was enforced to inflict on him, without feeling at least
an equal share: she endeavoured not to conceal the pity she had for him;
but he now found that was far from being all he wanted, because it
forwarded not, as he at first imagined, the progress of his hopes, but
rather shewed them at more distance than ever.
The business of his love so engrossed his thoughts during this visit,
that he almost forgot to mention any thing of the count's designs upon
her, and she as little remembered to remind him of it, tho' he told her
on his entrance, that he had something to acquaint her with on his
subject, and it was not till he was going to take leave that it came
into his head. When he had related it to her, she assured him that she
took the caution he gave her as a new proof of his friendship, which,
said she, I shall always prize. At parting, she permitted him to salute
her, and gave her promise not to refuse seeing him while they continued
in that city; but told him at the same time, that he must not expect any
thing from his repeated visits more than she had already granted.
He durst not at that time press her any farther, but fetched a deep sigh
as he went out of the room, accompanied with a look more expressive than
any words could be of the discontent he laboured under, while she,
oppressed beneath the double weight of his and her own grief, remained
in a condition he was little able to form any conjecture of.
Pleased as she was with the presence of the only man who had ever had
power of inspiring her with one tender thought, yet a thousand times she
had wished him gone before he went, that she might be at liberty to give
vent to the struggling passions which were more than once ready to throw
her into a swoon. The perfections she saw in the person of her
lover;--the respect he treated her with, notwithstanding the violence of
the passion he was possessed of;--the sincerity that appeared in all his
looks and words;--the generosity of his behaviour in regard to her
fortune;--all the qualifications that would have made any other woman
blessed in the offer of such a heart, served but to make her wretched,
since she could not look on herself in a condition capable of
accepting it.
Alas! du Plessis, cried she, little do you think to whom you would ally
yourself:--you would, you say, despise a portion, but would you marry a
foundling, a child of charity, one that has neither name nor friends,
and who, in her best circumstances, is but a poor dependant, a servant
in effect, tho' not in shew, and owes her very cloaths to the bounty of
another?--Oh! why did the mistaken goodness of Dorilaus give me any
other education than such as befitted my wretched fortune! Better I had
been bred an humble drudge, and never been taught how to distinguish
merit:--What avail the accomplishments that cost him so much money, and
me so much pains to acquire, but to attract a short-liv'd admiration,
which, when I am truly known, will be succeeded with an adequate
derision:--Could I but say I was descended from honest, tho' mean
parents, I would not murmur at my fate, but I have none,--none to own
me;--I am a nothing,--a kind of reptile in humanity, and have been shewn
in a genteel way of life only to make my native misery more conspicuous.
Thus did love represent her unhappy circumstances in their worst
colours, and render her, which till now she had never been, thankless to
heaven for all the good she had received, since it seemed to deny her
the only good her passion coveted, that of being in a condition to
reward the affection of her dear du Plessis.
A torrent of tears at length somewhat mitigated the violence of her
passion, and unwilling to be seen by Melanthe in the present confusion
of her thoughts, she went to bed, leaving the same orders as she had
done the night before.