Amy was dressing me one morning, for now I had two maids, and Amy was my

chambermaid. "Dear madam," says Amy, "what! a'nt you with child yet?"

"No, Amy," says I; "nor any sign of it."

"Law, madam!" says Amy, "what have you been doing? Why, you have been

married a year and a half. I warrant you master would have got me with

child twice in that time." "It may be so, Amy," says I. "Let him try,

can't you?" "No," says Amy; "you'll forbid it now. Before, I told you he

should, with all my heart; but I won't now, now he's all your own."

"Oh," says I, "Amy, I'll freely give you my consent. It will be nothing

at all to me. Nay, I'll put you to bed to him myself one night or other,

if you are willing." "No, madam, no," says Amy, "not now he's yours."

"Why, you fool you," says I, "don't I tell you I'll put you to bed to

him myself?" "Nay, nay," says Amy, "if you put me to bed to him, that's

another case; I believe I shall not rise again very soon." "I'll venture

that, Amy," says I.

After supper that night, and before we were risen from table, I said to

him, Amy being by, "Hark ye, Mr. ----, do you know that you are to lie

with Amy to-night?" "No, not I," says he; but turns to Amy, "Is it so,

Amy?" says he. "No, sir," says she. "Nay, don't say no, you fool; did

not I promise to put you to bed to him?" But the girl said "No," still,

and it passed off.

At night, when we came to go to bed, Amy came into the chamber to

undress me, and her master slipped into bed first; then I began, and

told him all that Amy had said about my not being with child, and of her

being with child twice in that time. "Ay, Mrs. Amy," says he, "I believe

so too. Come hither, and, we'll try." But Amy did not go. "Go, you

fool," says I, "can't you? I freely give you both leave." But Amy would

not go. "Nay, you whore," says I, "you said, if I would put you to bed,

you would with all your heart." And with that I sat her down, pulled off

her stockings and shoes, and all her clothes piece by piece, and led her

to the bed to him. "Here," says I, "try what you can do with your maid

Amy." She pulled back a little, would not let me pull off her clothes at

first, but it was hot weather, and she had not many clothes on, and

particularly no stays on; and at last, when she saw I was in earnest,

she let me do what I would. So I fairly stripped her, and then I threw

open the bed and thrust her in.

I need say no more. This is enough to convince anybody that I did not

think him my husband, and that I had cast off all principle and all

modesty, and had effectually stifled conscience.

Amy, I dare say, began now to repent, and would fain have got out of bed

again; but he said to her, "Nay, Amy, you see your mistress has put you

to bed; 'tis all her doing; you must blame her." So he held her fast,

and the wench being naked in the bed with him, it was too late to look

back, so she lay still and let him do what he would with her.

Had I looked upon myself as a wife, you cannot suppose I would have been

willing to have let my husband lie with my maid, much less before my

face, for I stood by all the while; but as I thought myself a whore, I

cannot say but that it was something designed in my thoughts that my

maid should be a whore too, and should not reproach me with it.

Amy, however, less vicious than I, was grievously out of sorts the next

morning, and cried and took on most vehemently, that she was ruined and

undone, and there was no pacifying her; she was a whore, a slut, and she

was undone! undone! and cried almost all day. I did all I could to

pacify her. "A whore!" says I. "Well, and am not I a whore as well as

you?" "No, no," says Amy; "no, you are not, for you are married." "Not

I, Amy," says I; "I do not pretend to it. He may marry you to-morrow,

if he will, for anything I could do to hinder it. I am not married. I do

not look upon it as anything." Well, all did not pacify Amy, but she

cried two or three days about it; but it wore off by degrees.

But the case differed between Amy and her master exceedingly; for Amy

retained the same kind temper she always had; but, on the contrary, he

was quite altered, for he hated her heartily, and could, I believe, have

killed her after it, and he told me so, for he thought this a vile

action; whereas what he and I had done he was perfectly easy in, thought

it just, and esteemed me as much his wife as if we had been married from

our youth, and had neither of us known any other; nay, he loved me, I

believe, as entirely as if I had been the wife of his youth. Nay, he

told me it was true, in one sense, that he had two wives, but that I was

the wife of his affection, the other the wife of his aversion.

I was extremely concerned at the aversion he had taken to my maid Amy,

and used my utmost skill to get it altered; for though he had, indeed,

debauched the wench, I knew that I was the principal occasion of it; and

as he was the best-humoured man in the world, I never gave him over till

I prevailed with him to be easy with her, and as I was now become the

devil's agent, to make others as wicked as myself, I brought him to lie

with her again several times after that, till at last, as the poor girl

said, so it happened, and she was really with child.

She was terribly concerned at it, and so was he too. "Come, my dear,"

says I, "when Rachel put her handmaid to bed to Jacob, she took the

children as her own. Don't be uneasy; I'll take the child as my own. Had

not I a hand in the frolic of putting her to bed to you? It was my fault

as much as yours." So I called Amy, and encouraged her too, and told her

that I would take care of the child and her too, and added the same

argument to her. "For," says I, "Amy, it was all my fault. Did not I

drag your clothes off your back, and put you to bed to him?" Thus I,

that had, indeed, been the cause of all the wickedness between them,

encouraged them both, when they had any remorse about it, and rather

prompted them to go on with it than to repent it.

When Amy grew big she went to a place I had provided for her, and the

neighbours knew nothing but that Amy and I was parted. She had a fine

child indeed, a daughter, and we had it nursed; and Amy came again in

about half a year to live with her old mistress; but neither my

gentleman, or Amy either, cared for playing that game over again; for,

as he said, the jade might bring him a houseful of children to keep.

We lived as merrily and as happily after this as could be expected,

considering our circumstances; I mean as to the pretended marriage, &c.;

and as to that, my gentleman had not the least concern about him for it.

But as much as I was hardened, and that was as much as I believe ever

any wicked creature was, yet I could not help it, there was and would be

hours of intervals and of dark reflections which came involuntarily in,

and thrust in sighs into the middle of all my songs; and there would be

sometimes a heaviness of heart which intermingled itself with all my

joy, and which would often fetch a tear from my eye. And let others

pretend what they will, I believe it impossible to be otherwise with

anybody. There can be no substantial satisfaction in a life of known

wickedness; conscience will, and does often, break in upon them at

particular times, let them do what they can to prevent it.

But I am not to preach, but to relate; and whatever loose reflections

were, and how often soever those dark intervals came on, I did my utmost

to conceal them from him; ay, and to suppress and smother them too in

myself; and, to outward appearance, we lived as cheerfully and agreeably

as it was possible for any couple in the world to live.

After I had thus lived with him something above two years, truly I found

myself with child too. My gentleman was mightily pleased at it, and

nothing could be kinder than he was in the preparations he made for me,

and for my lying-in, which was, however, very private, because I cared

for as little company as possible; nor had I kept up my neighbourly

acquaintance, so that I had nobody to invite upon such an occasion.

I was brought to bed very well (of a daughter too, as well as Amy), but

the child died at about six weeks old, so all that work was to do over

again--that is to say, the charge, the expense, the travail, &c.

The next year I made him amends, and brought him a son, to his great

satisfaction. It was a charming child, and did very well. After this my

husband, as he called himself, came to me one evening, and told me he

had a very difficult thing happened to him, which he knew not what to do

in, or how to resolve about, unless I would make him easy; this was,

that his occasions required him to go over to France for about two

months.

"Well, my dear," says I, "and how shall I make you easy?"

"Why, by consenting to let me go," says he; "upon which condition, I'll

tell you the occasion of my going, that you may judge of the necessity

there is for it on my side." Then, to make me easy in his going, he told

me he would make his will before he went, which should be to my full

satisfaction.

I told him the last part was so kind that I could not decline the first

part, unless he would give me leave to add that, if it was not for

putting him to an extraordinary expense, I would go over along with him.

He was so pleased with this offer that he told me he would give me full

satisfaction for it, and accept of it too; so he took me to London with

him the next day, and there he made his will, and showed it to me, and

sealed it before proper witnesses, and then gave it to me to keep. In

this will he gave a thousand pounds to a person that we both knew very

well, in trust, to pay it, with the interest from the time of his

decease, to me or my assigns; then he willed the payment of my jointure,

as he called it, viz., his bond of five hundred pounds after his death;

also, he gave me all my household stuff, plate, &c.

This was a most engaging thing for a man to do to one under my

circumstances; and it would have been hard, as I told him, to deny him

anything, or to refuse to go with him anywhere. So we settled everything

as well as we could, left Amy in charge with the house, and for his

other business, which was in jewels, he had two men he intrusted, who he

had good security for, and who managed for him, and corresponded with

him.

Things being thus concerted, we went away to France, arrived safe at

Calais, and by easy journeys came in eight days more to Paris, where we

lodged in the house of an English merchant of his acquaintance, and was

very courteously entertained.

My gentleman's business was with some persons of the first rank, and to

whom he had sold some jewels of very good value, and received a great

sum of money in specie; and, as he told me privately, he gained three

thousand pistoles by his bargain, but would not suffer the most intimate

friend he had there to know what he had received; for it is not so safe

a thing in Paris to have a great sum of money in keeping as it might be

in London.

We made this journey much longer than we intended, and my gentleman sent

for one of his managers in London to come over to us in Paris with some

diamonds, and sent him back to London again to fetch more. Then other

business fell into his hands so unexpectedly that I began to think we

should take up our constant residence there, which I was not very averse

to, it being my native country, and I spoke the language perfectly well.

So we took a good house in Paris, and lived very well there; and I sent

for Amy to come over to me, for I lived gallantly, and my gentleman was

two or three times going to keep me a coach, but I declined it,

especially at Paris, but as they have those conveniences by the day

there, at a certain rate, I had an equipage provided for me whenever I

pleased, and I lived here in a very good figure, and might have lived

higher if I pleased.

But in the middle of all this felicity a dreadful disaster befell me,

which entirely unhinged all my affairs, and threw me back into the same

state of life that I was in before; with this one happy exception,

however, that whereas before I was poor, even to misery, now I was not

only provided for, but very rich.

My gentleman had the name in Paris for a rich man, and indeed he was so,

though not so immensely rich as people imagined; but that which was

fatal to him was, that he generally carried a shagreen case in his

pocket, especially when he went to court, or to the houses of any of the

princes of the blood, in which he had jewels of very great value.

It happened one day that, being to go to Versailles to wait upon the

Prince of ----, he came up into my chamber in the morning, and laid out

his jewel-case, because he was not going to show any jewels, but to get

a foreign bill accepted, which he had received from Amsterdam; so, when

he gave me the case, he said, "My dear, I think I need not carry this

with me, because it may be I may not come back till night, and it is too

much to venture." I returned, "Then, my dear, you shan't go." "Why?"

says he. "Because, as they are too much for you, so you are too much for

me to venture, and you shall not go, unless you will promise me not to

stay so as to come back in the night."

"I hope there's no danger," said he, "seeing that I have nothing about

me of any value; and therefore, lest I should, take that too," says he,

and gives me his gold watch and a rich diamond which he had in a ring,

and always wore on his finger.

"Well, but, my dear," says I, "you make me more uneasy now than before;

for if you apprehend no danger, why do you use this caution? and if you

apprehend there is danger, why do you go at all?"

"There is no danger," says he, "if I do not stay late, and I do not

design to do so."

"Well, but promise me, then, that you won't," says I, "or else I cannot

let you go."

"I won't indeed, my dear," says he, "unless I am obliged to it. I assure

you I do not intend it; but if I should, I am not worth robbing now, for

I have nothing about me but about six pistoles in my little purse and

that little ring," showing me a small diamond ring, worth about ten or

twelve pistoles, which he put upon his finger, in the room of the rich

one he usually wore.

[Illustration: THE JEWELLER IS ABOUT TO LEAVE FOR VERSAILLES

_And gives me his gold watch and a rich diamond which he had in a ring,

and always wore on his finger_]

I still pressed him not to stay late, and he said he would not. "But if

I am kept late," says he, "beyond my expectation, I'll stay all night,

and come next morning." This seemed a very good caution; but still my

mind was very uneasy about him, and I told him so, and entreated him

not to go. I told him I did not know what might be the reason, but that

I had a strange terror upon my mind about his going, and that if he did

go, I was persuaded some harm would attend him. He smiled, and returned,

"Well, my dear, if it should be so, you are now richly provided for; all

that I have here I give to you." And with that he takes up the casket or

case, "Here," says he, "hold your hand; there is a good estate for you

in this case; if anything happens to me 'tis all your own. I give it

you for yourself;" and with that he put the casket, the fine ring, and

his gold watch all into my hands, and the key of his scrutoire besides,

adding, "And in my scrutoire there is some money; it is all your own."

I stared at him as if I was frighted, for I thought all his face looked

like a death's-head; and then immediately I thought I perceived his head

all bloody, and then his clothes looked bloody too, and immediately it

all went off, and he looked as he really did. Immediately I fell

a-crying, and hung about him. "My dear," said I, "I am frighted to

death; you shall not go. Depend upon it some mischief will befall you."

I did not tell him how my vapourish fancy had represented him to me;

that, I thought, was not proper. Besides, he would only have laughed at

me, and would have gone away with a jest about it; but I pressed him

seriously not to go that day, or, if he did, to promise me to come home

to Paris again by daylight. He looked a little graver then than he did

before, told me he was not apprehensive of the least danger, but if

there was, he would either take care to come in the day, or, as he had

said before, would stay all night.

But all these promises came to nothing, for he was set upon in the open

day and robbed by three men on horseback, masked, as he went; and one of

them, who, it seems, rifled him while the rest stood to stop the coach,

stabbed him into the body with a sword, so that he died immediately. He

had a footman behind the coach, who they knocked down with the stock or

butt-end of a carbine. They were supposed to kill him because of the

disappointment they met with in not getting his case or casket of

diamonds, which they knew he carried about him; and this was supposed

because, after they had killed him, they made the coachman drive out of

the road a long way over the heath, till they came to a convenient

place, where they pulled him out of the coach and searched his clothes

more narrowly than they could do while he was alive. But they found

nothing but his little ring, six pistoles, and the value of about seven

livres in small moneys.

This was a dreadful blow to me, though I cannot say I was so surprised

as I should otherwise have been, for all the while he was gone my mind

was oppressed with the weight of my own thoughts, and I was as sure

that I should never see him any more that I think nothing could be like

it. The impression was so strong that I think nothing could make so deep

a wound that was imaginary; and I was so dejected and disconsolate that,

when I received the news of his disaster, there was no room for any

extraordinary alteration in me. I had cried all that day, ate nothing,

and only waited, as I might say, to receive the dismal news, which I had

brought to me about five o'clock in the afternoon.

I was in a strange country, and, though I had a pretty many

acquaintances, had but very few friends that I could consult on this

occasion. All possible inquiry was made after the rogues that had been

thus barbarous, but nothing could be heard of them; nor was it possible

that the footman could make any discovery of them by his description,

for they knocked him down immediately, so that he knew nothing of what

was done afterwards. The coachman was the only man that could say

anything, and all his account amounted to no more than this, that one of

them had soldier's clothes, but he could not remember the particulars of

his mounting, so as to know what regiment he belonged to; and as to

their faces, that he could know nothing of, because they had all of them

masks on.

I had him buried as decently as the place would permit a Protestant

stranger to be buried, and made some of the scruples and difficulties on

that account easy by the help of money to a certain person, who went

impudently to the curate of the parish of St. Sulpitius, in Paris, and

told him that the gentleman that was killed was a Catholic; that the

thieves had taken from him a cross of gold, set with diamonds, worth six

thousand livres; that his widow was a Catholic, and had sent by him

sixty crowns to the church of ----, for masses to be said for the repose

of his soul. Upon all which, though not one word was true, he was buried

with all the ceremonies of the Roman Church.

I think I almost cried myself to death for him, for I abandoned myself

to all the excesses of grief; and indeed I loved him to a degree

inexpressible; and considering what kindness he had shown me at first,

and how tenderly he had used me to the last, what could I do less?

Then the manner of his death was terrible and frightful to me, and,

above all, the strange notices I had of it. I had never pretended to the

second-sight, or anything of that kind, but certainly, if any one ever

had such a thing, I had it at this time, for I saw him as plainly in all

those terrible shapes as above; first, as a skeleton, not dead only, but

rotten and wasted; secondly, as killed, and his face bloody; and,

thirdly, his clothes bloody, and all within the space of one minute, or

indeed of a very few moments.

These things amazed me, and I was a good while as one stupid. However,

after some time I began to recover, and look into my affairs. I had the

satisfaction not to be left in distress, or in danger of poverty. On the

contrary, besides what he had put into my hands fairly in his lifetime,

which amounted to a very considerable value, I found above seven hundred

pistoles in gold in his scrutoire, of which he had given me the key; and

I found foreign bills accepted for about twelve thousand livres; so

that, in a word, I found myself possessed of almost ten thousand pounds

sterling in a very few days after the disaster.

The first thing I did upon this occasion was to send a letter to my

maid, as I still called her, Amy, wherein I gave her an account of my

disaster, how my husband, as she called him (for I never called him so),

was murdered; and as I did not know how his relations, or his wife's

friends might act upon that occasion, I ordered her to convey away all

the plate, linen, and other things of value, and to secure them in a

person's hands that I directed her to, and then to sell or dispose of

the furniture of the house, if she could, and so, without acquainting

anybody with the reason of her going, withdraw; sending notice to his

head manager at London that the house was quitted by the tenant, and

they might come and take possession of it for the executors. Amy was so

dexterous, and did her work so nimbly, that she gutted the house, and

sent the key to the said manager, almost as soon as he had notice of the

misfortune that befell their master.

Upon their receiving the surprising news of his death, the head manager

came over to Paris, and came to the house. I made no scruple of calling

myself Madame ----, the widow of Monsieur ----, the English jeweller.

And as I spoke French naturally, I did not let him know but that I was

his wife, married in France, and that I had not heard that he had any

wife in England, but pretended to be surprised, and exclaim against him

for so base an action; and that I had good friends in Poictou, where I

was born, who would take care to have justice done me in England out of

his estate.

I should have observed that, as soon as the news was public of a man

being murdered, and that he was a jeweller, fame did me the favour as to

publish presently that he was robbed of his casket of jewels, which he

always carried about him. I confirmed this, among my daily lamentations

for his disaster, and added that he had with him a fine diamond ring,

which he was known to wear frequently about him, valued at one hundred

pistoles, a gold watch, and a great quantity of diamonds of inestimable

value in his casket, which jewels he was carrying to the Prince of

----, to show some of them to him; and the prince owned that he had

spoken to him to bring some such jewels, to let him see them. But I

sorely repented this part afterward, as you shall hear.

This rumour put an end to all inquiry after his jewels, his ring, or his

watch; and as for the seven hundred pistoles, that I secured. For the

bills which were in hand, I owned I had them, but that, as I said I

brought my husband thirty thousand livres portion, I claimed the said

bills, which came to not above twelve thousand livres, for my _amende_;

and this, with the plate and the household stuff, was the principal of

all his estate which they could come at. As to the foreign bill which he

was going to Versailles to get accepted, it was really lost with him;

but his manager, who had remitted the bill to him, by way of Amsterdam,

bringing over the second bill, the money was saved, as they call it,

which would otherwise have been also gone; the thieves who robbed and

murdered him were, to be sure, afraid to send anybody to get the bill

accepted, for that would undoubtedly have discovered them.

By this time my maid Amy was arrived, and she gave me an account of her

management, and how she had secured everything, and that she had quitted

the house, and sent the key to the head manager of his business, and

let me know how much she had made of everything very punctually and

honestly.

I should have observed, in the account of his dwelling with me so long

at ----, that he never passed for anything there but a lodger in the

house; and though he was landlord, that did not alter the case. So that

at his death, Amy coming to quit the house and give them the key, there

was no affinity between that and the case of their master who was newly

killed.

The Fortunate Mistress (Parts 1 and 2) or a History of the Life of Mademoiselle de Beleau Known by the Name of the Lady Roxana · 第 4 / 33 段