_Shews by what means Louisa came to the knowledge of her parents, with
other occurrences_.
The first thing she did on her arrival, was to send for proper persons
to equip her in a manner that she might once more appear herself,
resolving that till she could do so, not to be seen in the streets.
While these things were preparing, she sent a person, whom the people of
the house recommended to her, to the palace of the prince of Conti, not
doubting but that some of the gentlemen belonging to his highness might
give some intelligence where monsieur du Plessis was to be found; but
the messenger returned without any other information, than that they
knew him very well, but could give no directions in what part he was at
present, he not having been seen in Paris for a long time.
It is hard to say whether she most rejoiced or grieved at this account:
she imagined that had he been dead they would not have been ignorant of
it, therefore concluded him living to her infinite satisfaction; but
then his absenting himself from the capital of the kingdom, and from the
presence of a prince who had so much loved him, filled her with an
adequate disquiet, as believing some very ill accident must have been
the occasion:--she dispatched the same person afterwards to all the
public places that she heard gentlemen frequented, but met not with the
least success in her enquiries. It would prolong this narrative to a
tedious length, should I attempt any description of what she felt in
this situation, or the reflections she made on the odd circumstances of
her life:--the greatness of her spirit, and the most perfect resignation
to the divine will, however, made her support even this last and
severest trial with fortitude and patience; and as soon as she had put
herself into a convenient neat garb, but plain, befitting her condition,
she went out with a design to take a private lodging, where she might
live more cheaply than she could at the hotel, till providence should
throw some person in the way that might recommend her either to work, or
to teach young ladies music.
She was wandering thro' several of the streets of Paris, without being
able, as yet, to find such a chamber as she wanted, when a great shower
of rain happening to fall, she stood up under the porch of a large house
for shelter till it should be over, which it was not for a considerable
time; and the street being very dirty, she returned to the hotel,
intending to renew her search the next day: she had not been come in
above half an hour, before the man of the house told her that a servant,
in a very rich livery, who, he perceived, had followed her, and had
asked many questions concerning her, was now returned, and desired to
speak with her.
As du Plessis was ever in her thoughts, a sudden rush of joy overflowed
her heart, which seemed to her the presage of seeing him, tho' how he
should imagine she was in Paris was a mystery:--but she gave herself not
much time for reflection, before she ordered the man to be admitted.
The manner of his approaching her was very respectful; but the message
he had to deliver seemed of a contrary nature.--After having asked if
her name was Louisa, and she answering that it was, I come, madam, said
he, from a gentleman who saw you stand just now at the gate of a house
in the Fauxbourg St. Germains, he commands me to tell you, that he has
something of moment to acquaint you with, and desires you will permit me
to call a chair, and attend you to his house, where he is impatient to
receive you.
What, indeed, could Louisa think of a person who should send for her in
this manner?--all the late transport she was in, was immediately
converted into disdain and vexation at being taken, as she had all the
reason in the world to suppose, for one of those common creatures who
prostitute their charms for bread.--
Tell your master, said she, that by whatever accident he has learned my
name, he is wholly ignorant of the character of the person he has sent
you to:--that I am an entire stranger at Paris, and he must have
mistaken me for some other, who, perhaps, I may have the misfortune to
resemble, and may be also called as I am;--at least I am willing to
think so, as the only excuse can be made for his offering this
insult:--but go, continued she, with that pride which is natural to
affronted virtue;--go, and convince him of his error;--and let me hear
no more of it.
It was in vain he assured her that his master was a person of the
highest honour, and that he was not unknown to her. All he could say had
not the least effect unless to enflame her more; when, after asking his
name, the fellow told her he was forbid to reveal it, but that he was
confident she would not deny having been acquainted with him when once
she saw him.
I shall neither own the one, cried she, nor consent to the other; then
bid him a second time be gone, with an air which shewed she was not to
be prevailed upon to listen to his arguments.
This man had no sooner left her than she fell into a deep study, from
which a sudden thought made her immediately start:--the count de
Bellfleur came into her head; and she was certain it could be no other
than that cruel persecutor of her virtue, that her ill fate had once
more thrown in her way.--As she knew very well, by what he had done,
that he was of a disposition to scruple nothing for the attainment of
his wishes, she trembled for the consequences of his discovering where
she was.--The only way she could think on to avoid the dangers she might
be exposed to on his account, was to draw up a petition to the prince of
Conti, acquainting him that she was the person who was near suffering so
much from the ill designs he had on her at Padua, when so generously
referred by monsieur du Plessis, and to entreat his highness's
protection against any attempts he might be safe enough to make.
She was just sitting down, in order to form a remonstrance of this kind,
when a chariot and six stopping at the door, she was informed the
gentleman who had sent to her was come in person, and that they knew it
was the same by the livery.--Louisa run hastily to the window and saw a
person alight, whom, by the bulk and stature, she knew could not be the
count she so much dreaded, this having much the advantage of the other
in both. Somewhat reassured by this sight, she ordered the master of the
hotel to desire him to walk into a parlour, and let him know she would
attend him there.
As she saw not the face of this visitor, she could not be certain
whether it were not some of those she had been acquainted with at
Venice, who having, by accident, seen her at Paris, might, according to
the freedom of the French nation, take the liberty of visiting her;--but
whoever it were, or on what score soever brought, she thought it best to
receive him in a place where, in case of any ill usage, she might
readily have assistance.
The master of the hotel perceiving her scruples, readily did as he was
ordered, and Louisa having desired that he, or some of his people, would
be within call, went down to receive this unknown gent, tho' not without
emotions, which at that moment she knew not how to account for.
But soon after she was seized with infinitely greater, when, entering
the parlour, she found it was no other than Dorilaus who had given her
this anxiety.--Surprize at the sight of a person whom, of all the world,
she could least have expected in that place, made her at first start
back; and conscious shame for having, as she thought, so ill rewarded
his goodness, mixed with a certain awe which she had for no other person
but himself, occasioned such a trembling, as rendered her unable either
to retire or move forward to salute him, as she otherwise would
have done.
He saw the confusion she was in, and willing to give it an immediate
relief, ran to her, and taking her in his arms,--my dear, dear child,
said he, am I so happy to see thee once more!--Oh! sir, returned she
disengaging herself from his embrace, and falling at his feet!--How can
I look upon you after having flown from your protection, and given you
such cause to think me the most ungrateful creature in the world!
It was heaven, answered he, that inspired you with that abhorrence of my
offers, which, had you accepted, we must both have been eternally
undone!--You are my daughter, Louisa! pursued he, my own natural
daughter!--Rise then, and take a father's blessing.
All that can be said of astonishment would be far short of what she felt
at these words:--the happiness seemed so great she could not think it
real, tho' uttered from mouth she knew unaccustomed to deceit:--a
hundred times, without giving him leave to satisfy her doubts, did she
cry out, My father!--my father!--my real father!--How can it be!--Is
there a possibility that Louisa owes her being to Dorilaus!
Yes, my Louisa, answered he, and flatter myself, by what I have observed
of your disposition, you have done nothing, since our parting, that
might prevent my glorying in being the parent of such a child.
The hurry of spirit she was in, prevented her from taking notice of
these last words, or at least from making any answer to them, and she
still continued crying out,--Dorilaus, my father!--Good heaven! may I
believe I am so blessed?--Who then is my mother!--Wherefore have I been
so long ignorant of what I was!--And how is the joyful secret at
last revealed!
All these things you shall be fully informed of, answered he; in the
mean time be satisfied I do not deceive you, and am indeed your father:
transported to find my long lost child, whom I myself knew not was so
till I believed her gone for ever;--a thousand times I have wished both
you and Horatio were my children, but little suspected you were so, till
after his too eager ambition deprived me of him, and my mistaken love
drove you to seek a refuge among strangers.
Tears of joy and tenderness now bedewed the faces of both father and
daughter:--silence for some moments succeeded the late acclamations; but
Dorilaus at length finding her fully convinced she was as happy as he
said she was, and entirely freed from all those apprehensions which had
occasioned her flying from him, told her he was settled in Paris; that
he lived just opposite to the house where she had stood up on account of
the shower, and happening to be at one of his windows immediately knew
her; that he sent a servant after her, who had enquired how long she had
been arrived, and in what manner she came; that he had sent for her with
no other intent then to make trial how she would resent it, and was
transported to find her answer such as he hoped and had expected from
her:--he added, that he had all the anxiety of a father to hear by what
means she had been supported, and the motive which induced her to travel
in the habit of a pilgrim, as the matter of the hotel had informed his
servant; but that he would defer his satisfaction till she should be in
a place more becoming his daughter.
On concluding these words he called for the master of the hotel, and
having defrayed what little expences she had been at since her coming
there, took her by the hand and led her to his chariot, which soon
brought them to a magnificent, house, and furnished in a manner
answerable to the birth and fortune of the owner.
Louisa had all this time seemed like one in a dream:--she had ever loved
Dorilaus with a filial affection; and to find herself really his
daughter, to be snatched at once from all those cares which attend
penury, when accompanied with virtue, and an abhorrence of entering into
measures inconsistent with the strictest honour, to be relieved from
every want, and in a station which commanded respect and homage, was
such a surcharge of felicity, that she was less able to support than all
the fatigues she had gone thro'--Surprize and joy made her appear more
dull and stupid than she had ever been in her whole life before; and
Dorilaus was obliged to repeat all he had said over and over again, to
bring her into her usual composedness, and enable her to give him the
satisfaction he required.
But as soon as she had, by degrees, recollected herself, she modestly
related all that had happened to her from the time she left him;--the
methods by which she endeavoured to earn her bread,--the insults she was
exposed to at mrs. C--l--ge's;--the way she came acquainted with
Melanthe;--the kindness shown her by that lady;--their travels
together;--the base stratagem made use of by count de Bellfleur to ruin
her with that lady--the honourable position monsieur du Plessis had
professed for her;--the seasonable assistance he had given her, in that
iminent danger she was in from the count's unlawful designs upon
her;--his placing her afterwards in the monastry,--the treachery of the
abbess;--the artifice she had been obliged to make use of to get out of
the nunnery;--her pilgrimage;--in fine, concealed no part of her
adventures, only that which related to the passion she had for du
Plessis, which she endeavoured, as much as she could, to disguise, under
the names of gratitude for the obligations he had conferred upon her,
and admiration of his virtue, so different from what she had found in
others who had addressed her.
Dorilaus, however, easily perceived the tenderness with which she was
agitated on the account of that young gentleman, but he would not excite
her blushes by taking any notice of it, especially as he found nothing
to condemn in it, and had observed, throughout the course of her whole
narrative, she had behaved on other occasions with a discretion far
above her years, he was far from wronging her, by suspecting she had
swerved from it in this.
But when he heard the vast journey she had come on foot, he was in the
utmost amazement at her fortitude, and told her he was resolved to keep
her pilgrim's habit as a relique, to preserve to after-ages the memory
of an adventure, which had really something more marvellous in it than
many set down as miracles.
And now having fully gratified his own curiosity in all he wanted to be
informed of, he thought proper to case the impatience she was in to know
the history of her birth, and on what occasion it had been so long
concealed, which he did in these or the like words: