The inconsideration and instability of youth; when unrestrained by
authority, is here exemplified, in an odd adventure Natura embarked
in with two nuns, after the death of his governor.
Novelty has charms for persons of all ages, but more especially in
youth, when manhood is unripened by maturity, when all the passions
are afloat, and reason not sufficiently established in her throne by
experience and reflection, the mind is fluctuating, easily carried
down the stream of every different inclination that invites, and
seldom or never has a constant bent.
From seventeen or eighteen to one or two and twenty, I look upon to be
that season of life in which all the errors we commit, will admit of
most excuse, because we are then at an age to think ourselves men,
without the power of acting as becomes reasonable men. It was in the
midst of this dangerous time, that Natura set out in order to make the
tour of Europe, and his governor dying soon after their arrival in
Paris, our young traveller was left to himself, and at liberty to
pursue whatever he had a fancy for.
The death of this gentleman was in effect a very great misfortune to
Natura; but as at his time of life we are all too apt to be impatient
under any restraint, tho' never so mild and reasonable, he did not
consider it in that light; and therefore less lamented his loss, than
his good nature would have made him do, had he been the companion of
his travels in any other station than that of governor, the very name
of which implied a right of direction over his behaviour, and a power
delegated by his father of circumscribing every thing he did. I
believe, whoever looks back upon himself at that age, will be
convinced by the retrospect, that there was nothing wonderful in
Natura's imagining he had now discretion enough to regulate his
conduct, without being under the controul of any person whatever; and
could not, for that reason, be much afflicted at being eased of a
subordination not at all agreeable to his humour, and which he thought
he had not the least occasion for.
The baron d' Eyrac had often invited him to pass some days with him,
at a fine villa he had about some ten leagues from Paris; but his
governor not having approved that visit, he had hitherto declined
it.--He now, however, took it into his head to go, and as the distance
was so short, went on horseback, attended by his footman, with a
portmanteau containing some linnen and cloaths, his intention being to
remain there while the baron stayed, which, as he was informed, would
be three weeks, or a month;--it being then the season for hunting, and
that part of the country well suited for the diversion.
He had been on a party of pleasure a considerable way on this road
before, so thought he had no occasion for a guide, and that he should
easily be directed to the house; but it so happened that being got
about twenty miles from Paris he missed his route, and took one the
direct contrary, and which at last brought him to the entrance of a
very thick wood:--there was not the least appearance of any human
creature, nor the habitation of one, and he was beginning to consult
with his servant whether to go back, or proceed till they should
arrive at some town or village for refreshment, when all at once there
fell the most terrible shower of hail and rain, accompanied with
thunder, that ever was heard;--this determined them to go into the
wood for shelter:--the storm continued till night, and it was then so
dark, that they could distinguish nothing:--they wandered, however,
leading their horses in their hands, for it was impossible to ride,
hoping to find some path, by which they might extricate themselves out
of that horrid labyrinth.
Some hours were passed in this perplexed situation, and Natura
expected no better than to remain there till morning, when he heard a
voice at a little distance, cry, 'Who goes there?' Never had any music
been half so pleasing to the ears of Natura. 'Friends,' replied he,
'and travellers, that have lost their way.' On this the person who had
spoke, drew nearer, and asked whither they were bent. Natura told him
to the villa of the baron d' Eyrac. 'The baron d' Eyrac,' said the
other, 'he lives twelve miles on the other side the wood, and that is
five miles over.'--He then asked if there were no town near, to which
he could direct them.--'No,' replied the other, 'but there is a little
village where is one inn, and that is above half a league off:--you
will never find your way to it; but if you will pay me, I will guide
you.' Natura wished no more, and having agreed with him for his hire,
followed where he led.
Nothing that was ever called an inn, had so much the shew of
wretchedness; nor could it be expected otherwise, for being far from
any great road, it was frequented only by shepherds, and others the
meanest sort of peasants, who worked in the adjacent grounds, or
tended the cattle.
In this miserable place was Natura obliged to take up his lodging:--he
lay down, indeed, on the ragged dirty mattress, but durst not take off
his cloaths, so noisome was every thing about him:--fatigued as he
was, he could not close his eyes till towards day, but had not slept
above two hours before the peasant who had served him as a guide, and
had also stayed at the inn, came into his room, and waked him
abruptly, telling him the lady abbess desired to speak with
him.--Natura was much vexed at this disturbance, and not sufficiently
awaked to recollect himself, only cried peevishly, 'What have I to do
with abbesses,' and then turned to sleep again.
On his second waking, his footman acquainted him, that a priest waited
to see him:--Natura then remembered what the peasant had said, but
could not conceive what business these holy people had with him; he
went down however immediately, and was saluted by a reverend
gentleman, who told him, that the lady abbess of a neighbouring
monastery (whose almoner he was) hearing from one of her shepherds the
distress he had been in, had sent to intreat he would come, and
refresh himself with what her convent afforded.
Natura was now ashamed of having been so rough with the peasant, but
well atoned for it by the handsome apology he now made; after which he
told the almoner, that he would receive the abbess's commands as soon
as he was in a condition to be seen by her.--This was what good
manners exacted from him, tho' in truth he had no inclination for a
visit, in which he proposed so little satisfaction.
He then made his servant open the portmanteau, and give him such
things as were proper to equip him for this visit; and while he was
dressing, was informed by his host, that this abbess was a woman of
quality, very rich, and owned the village they were in, and several
others, which brought her in more rent.
If the vanity so natural to a young heart, made Natura, on this
information, pleased and proud of the consideration such a lady had
for him while unknown, how much more cause had he to be so, when being
shewn by the same peasant into the monastery, he was brought into a
parlour, magnificently furnished, and no sooner had sat down, than a
very beautiful woman, whom he soon found was the lady abbess, appeared
behind the grate, and welcomed him with the most elegant compliments.
He had never been in a monastery before, and had a notion that all the
nuns, especially the abbesses, were ill-natured old women: he was
therefore so much surprized at the sight of this lady, that he had
scarce power to return the politeness she treated him with.--Her age
exceeded not twenty-four; she was fair to an excess, had fine-turned
features, and an air which her ecclesiastic habit could not deprive of
its freedom; but the enchanting manner of her conversation, her wit,
and the gaiety that accompanied all she said, so much astonished and
transported him, that he cried out, without knowing that he did so,
'Good God!--is it possible a monastery can contain such charms!'--She
affected to treat the admiration he expressed, as no other than meer
bagatelle; but how serious a satisfaction she took in it, a very
little time discovered.
'A monastery,' said she, 'is not so frightful a solitude as you, being
a stranger to the manners of this country, have perhaps painted to
yourself:--I have companions in whom I believe you will find some
agreements.'--She then rung a bell, and ordered an attending nun, or
what they call a lay-sister, to call some of the sisterhood, whose
names she mentioned; and presently came two nuns, with a third lady in
a different habit; the least handsome of these might have passed for a
beauty, but she that was the most so I shall call Elgidia; she was
sister to the abbess, but wanted a good many of her years, and being
intended for a monastic life by their parents, had been sent there as
a pensioner, till she should be prevailed upon to take the veil.
The abbess, having learned from Natura that he was from England, told
them, in a few words, what she knew of him, and the motive of the
invitation she had made him; then desired they would entertain him
till her return, having some affair, which called her thence for a
small time.
As Elgidia appeared by her dress to be more a woman of this world than
her companions, he directed his discourse chiefly to her; but whether
it were that she had less gaiety in her temper, or that she was that
moment taken up with some very serious thought, Natura could not be
certain, but he found her much less communicative, than either of
those, whose profession seemed to exact greater reserve.
As Natura spoke French perfectly well, and delivered all he said with
a great deal of ease, they were very much pleased with his
conversation; and yet more so, when, at the return of the abbess, that
wit and spirit they before found in him, seemed to have gained an
additional vigour.
The truth is, the first sight of this beautiful abbess had very much
struck him; and a certain prepossession in her favour, had rendered
him not so quick-sighted as he might otherwise have been to the charms
of her sister:--not that he was absolutely in love with her, nor
entertained the least wish in prejudice to the sanctity of her order;
it was rather an _admiration_ he was possessed with on her account,
which the surprize, at finding her person and manner so widely
different from what he had expected, contributed very much to excite
in him.
The breakfast, which consisted of chocolate, tea, coffee, rich cakes,
and sweetmeats, was served upon the Turnabout; but the abbess told
him, that their monastery had greater privileges than any other in
France; for they were not restrained from entertaining their kindred
and friends, tho' of a different sex, within the grate; 'as you shall
experience,' said she, with the most obliging air, 'if you will favour
us with your company at dinner.'
Nothing could be more pleasing to Natura than this invitation, and it
cannot, therefore, be supposed he hesitated much to comply with it;
however, as the hour of their devotion drew nigh, and forms must be
observed, he was desired to take a tour round about the village till
twelve, at which time they told him dinner would be on the table.
He was still in so much amazement at what he had seen and heard, that
he was not sorry at having an opportunity of being alone, to reflect
on all had passed; but the deeper he entered into thought, the more
strange it still seemed to him; till happening accidentally to fall
into some discourse with a gentleman in the village, he was told by
him, that the nunnery they were in sight of, was called, Le Convent de
Riche Dames; that none but women of condition entered themselves into
it, and that they enjoyed liberties little different from those that
live in the world:--'It is true,' said this person, 'the gay manner in
which they behave, has drawn many reflections on their order, yet I
know not but they may be equally innocent with those of the most
rigid.'
This was enough to shew Natura, that the civilities he received, were
only such as any stranger, who appeared of some rank, might be treated
with, as well as himself; and served to abate that little vanity
which, without this information, might have gained ground in his
heart; at least it did so for the present: what reasons he founds
afterwards for the indulging it, the reader will anon be enabled to
judge.
He was not, however, without a good deal of impatience for the hour
appointed for his return, which being arrived, the portress admitted
him into a fine room behind the grate, where he found the abbess,
Elgidia, the two nuns he had seen in the morning, and another, which,
it seems, were all the abbess thought proper should be present.
The table was elegantly served, and the richness of the wines, helped
very much to exhilerate the spirits of the company.--Elgidia alone
spoke little, tho' what she said was greatly to the purpose, and
discovered that it was not for want either of sentiment or words she
retained so great a taciturnity.--Natura saying somewhat, that shewed
he took notice how singular she was in this point, the abbess replied,
that her sister did not like a convent, that the comedy, the opera,
and ball, had more charms for her than devotion. On which Natura made
some feint attempts to justify a goûte for those public diversions,
but was silenced by the abbess, who maintained the only true
felicities of life were religion and friendship. 'What then do you
make of love, madam?' cried he briskly: 'love, the first command of
Heaven, and the support of this great universe:--love, which gives a
relish to every other joy, and'--he was going on, but the abbess
interrupted him, 'Hold!--Hold!' said she, 'this is not a discourse fit
for these sacred precincts.'--But these words were uttered in a sound,
and accompanied with a look, which wholly took away their austerity,
and it was easy for Natura to perceive by the manner in which they
were spoke, as well as by a sigh, which escaped Elgidia at the same
time, that neither of these ladies were in reality enemies to the
passion he was defending.
Some little time after dinner was over, Natura was about to take his
leave; but the abbess told him, that she had formed a design to punish
him for pretending to espouse the cause of love; 'and that is,' said
she, 'by detaining you in a place, where you must never speak, nor
hear a word, in favour of it':--'we have,' continued she, 'a little
apartment adjoining to the monastery, tho' not in it, which serves to
accommodate such friends as visit us, and are too far from home to
return the same day:--you must not refuse to pass at least one night
in it; and I dare promise you, that you will not find yourself worse
lodged, than the preceding one:--your servant may also lie in the same
house, and I will send your horses to a neighbouring farmer; who will
take care of them.'
The manner in which this request was urged, had somewhat in it too
obliging, for Natura to have denied, in good manners, even if his
inclinations had been opposite; but indeed he was too much charmed
with the conversation of the lovely abbess, and her fair associates,
to be desirous of quitting it.--He not only stayed that night, but
also, on their continuing to ask it, many succeeding ones.--He lay in
the apartment above-mentioned, breakfasted, dined, and supped in the
convent, as if a pensioner in the place, always in the same company,
and ambitious of no other.
The gallantries with which he treated the abbess, were as tender as
innocence would permit; nor did he presume to harbour any views of
being happier with her than he was at present.
But see! the strange caprice of love! It was not through a coldness of
constitution, nor any confederations of her quality and function,
which rendered him so content with enjoying no more of her than her
conversation; nor that hindered him from taking advantage of many
advances she made him, whenever they were alone, of becoming more
particular; but it was the progress Elgidia every day made in his
esteem:--the more he saw that beautiful young lady, the more he
thought her charming; and every time she spoke discovered to him a new
fund of wit, and sweetness of disposition:--it was not in her power to
erase the first impression her sister had made on him, but it was to
stop the admiration he had for her from growing up into a
passion:--whenever he saw either of them alone, he thought her most
amiable he was with; and when they were together, he was divided
between both.
For upwards of a month did he continue in the same place, and in the
same situation of mind; but then either the abbess's own good sense,
or the advice of some friend, remonstrating to her, that so long a
stay of a young gentleman, who was known to be not of her kindred,
might occasion discourses to her disreputation, and that of the
monastery in general; she took the opportunity one day, when he was
making an offer of going, as he frequently did, to speak to him in
this manner:
'I know not how,' said she, 'to part with you, and I flatter myself
you think of going, rather because you imagine your tarrying here for
any length of time, might be inconvenient for us, than because you are
tired of the reception you have found here.'
'Ah madam!' cried he, 'be assured I could live for ever here;--and
that I only grieve that such a hope is impossible.--If what you now
say is sincere,' answered she, 'you may at least prolong the happiness
we at present enjoy:--but I shall put you to the proof,' continued
she, looking on him with eyes in which the most eager passion was
visibly painted,--'to hush the tongue of censure, you shall remove to
a town about seven miles distant, where there are many good houses, in
one of which you may lodge, under pretence of liking the air of this
country, and visit us, as other of our friends do, as frequently as
you please, without endangering any remarks, even though you should
stay with us three or four nights at a time.'
Natura was so ravished at this proposal, and the kind, almost fond
manner, in which it was made, that he catched hold of her hand, and
kissed it, with a vehemence not conformable to a Platonic
affection:--she seemed, however, far from being offended at his
boldness, which had perhaps proceeded to greater lengths, had not
Elgidia at that instant come into the room.--The abbess was a little
disconcerted, but to conceal it as well as she could, 'sister,' said
she, 'I have made our guest the proposal I mentioned to you this
morning, and leave you to second it': with these words she withdrew.
Elgidia appeared in little less confusion than her sister had done;
but Natura was in infinitely more than either of them.--The sudden
sight of her who possessed at least half of his affections, just in
the moment he was in a kind of rapture with another, struck him like
the ghost of a departed mistress; and tho' he had never made any
declaration of love either to the one or the other, yet his heart
reproached him with a secret perfidy, and he durst scarce lift his
eyes to her face, when with a timid voice he at last said, 'Madam, may
I hope you take any interest in what your sister has been speaking
of?'--'You may be sure I do,' replied she, 'in all that concerns the
abbess; as to my farther sentiments on your staying or going, they can
be of no consequence to you.'--'How, madam!' resumed he, by this time
a little re-assured, 'of no consequence! You know nothing of my heart,
if you know it not incapable of forming the least wish but to please
you.'
He said many other tender and gallant things to her, in order to
engage her to add her commands to those of the abbess; but, either the
belief that he was wholly devoted to that lady, or the natural reserve
of her temper, would suffer her to let him draw no more from her, than
that she should share in the happiness her sister proposed to herself,
in his continuing so near them.
But tho' Elgidia could command her words, she could not have so much
power over her eyes as to keep them from betraying a tenderness not
inferior to that of her sister; and Natura had the satisfaction of
finding he was beloved by both these amiable women, without thinking
himself so far attached to either, as not to be able to break off
whenever he pleased.
But to what end tended all this gallantry! to what purpose was all
this waste of time, in an amour, which either had no aim in view, or
if it had, must be such a one, as must turn to the confusion of the
persons concerned in it!--These indeed are questions any one might
naturally ask, but could not have been resolved by Natura, who took a
pleasure in prosecuting the adventure, and neither examined what he
proposed by it himself, or considered what consequences might ensue;
and herein he but acted as most others do of his age, who rarely give
themselves the pains of consulting what _may_, or _will be_, when
pleased with what _is_.
He went to the place the abbess had directed, but imagined he should
be very much at a loss for amusement, being wholly a stranger to every
body. He would doubtless have been so, had his retreat been in any
other country than France; but as it is the peculiar characteristic of
that nation to entertain at first sight with the same freedom and
communicativeness of a long acquaintance, he soon found himself
neither without company nor diversion:--whether he had an inclination
to hunt, or dance, or play, he always met with persons ready to join
in the party, so that the intervals he passed there, between his
visits to the monastery, seemed not at all tedious to him.
The ladies, however, were far from being forgotten by him; ten days
had not elapsed, before he returned to renew, or rather to improve,
the impression he had both given and received.--The abbess appeared
all life and spirit at his return, but Elgidia was more melancholly
than when he left her; but it was a melancholly which had in it
somewhat of a soft languor, which was very engaging to Natura,
especially as he had reason to believe, by several looks and
expressions, which in some unguarded moments fell from her, that he
had the greatest interest in it.
The oftener he saw her, the more he was confirmed in this conjecture;
but as he could not be assured of it, never treated her in a manner
which should give her room to guess what his thoughts were, for fear
of meeting with a rebuff, which would have been too mortifying to his
vanity:--but as the belief of being beloved by her, rendered her
insensibly more dear to him; the regards he paid her, and the sighs
which frequently issued from his breast when he approached her, did
not escape the notice of the quick-sighted abbess; and disdaining a
competitorship in a heart she thought she had wholly engrossed,
resolved to be more plain than hitherto she had been, in order to
bring him to declare himself.
With this view she led him one day into the garden, and being seated in
a close arbour, where there was no danger of being overheard,--'Natura,'
said she, 'I doubt not but you may perceive, by the civilities I have
treated you with, that you are not indifferent to me; but as you cannot
be sensible to how great a degree my regard for you extends, it remains
that I confess to you there is but one thing wanting to compleat the
intire conquest of my heart'; 'and that is,' continued she, fixing her
eyes intently on his face, 'that you will cease for the future to pay
those extraordinary assiduities to Elgidia you have lately done.'
How much soever Natura was transported at the beginning of this
discourse, the closure of it gave him an inexpressible shock, insomuch
that he was wholly unable to make any reply, to testify the sense he
had of the obligation she conferred on him. 'I see,' said she, 'the
too great influence my sister has over you leaves me no room to hope
any thing from you:--I did not think the sacrifice I exacted from you
so great, that the purchase of my heart would not have atoned for it;
but since I find it is otherwise, I repent I put you to the trial.'
In speaking these words she rose up, and flew out of the arbour: the
confusion Natura was in, prevented him from endeavouring to detain
her; and before he could resolve with himself how to behave in so
critical a conjuncture, she was out of sight.--Whatever tenderness he
had for the other, he could not bear the thoughts of having offended
this lady: the confession she had just made him, seemed to deserve all
his gratitude; and tho' the price she demanded for her heart was too
excessive for him to comply with, yet he resolved to make his peace
with her the first time he found her alone, on the best terms he
could.
This was an opportunity, however, not so easily attained as he had
imagined:--the abbess conceived so much spite at the little
inclination he had testified to comply with her demand, that she kept
one or other of the nuns with her the whole remainder of that day, and
he could only tell her by his eyes how desirous he was of coming to an
eclaircisement.
But as if this was a day destined to produce nothing but extraordinary
events, perceiving the abbess industriously avoided speaking to him,
he had retired into the parlour to ruminate on the affair, when
Elgidia came in to him, and with somewhat more gaiety than she was
accustomed to, cried, 'What, alone, Natura! but I suppose you attend
my sister, and I will not be any interruption'; and then turned to go
out of the room. All the discontent he was in for the displeasure he
found he had given the abbess, could not keep him from getting between
her and the door:--'I have no other way to convince you of the
injustice of your suspicion,' said he, 'than to detain you here; tho'
perhaps,' added he, looking on her with an unfeigned tenderness,
'while I am clearing myself in one article, it may not be in my power
to prevent betraying my guilt in another, which it may be you will
find yet less worthy of forgiveness.'
'I know not,' replied she, with a smile too enchanting to be resisted,
'that I ever gave you any tokens of a rigid disposition; and besides,
I am inclined to have so good an opinion of you, that I look on your
giving me any cause of offence, as one of the things out of your
power.'
Emboldened by these words, 'Suppose, madam,' returned he, 'I should
confess to you that I was indulging the most passionate tenderness for
the beautiful Elgidia!--that her sweet idea is always present with me,
and that I sometimes am presuming enough to cherish the hopes of not
being hated by her':--'tell me,' continued he, 'what punishment does
this criminal deserve?'
'To be treated in the same manner,' answered she blushing, 'if he is
sincere; and to be made know that he cannot have formed any designs
upon the heart of Elgidia, which Elgidia has not equally harboured
upon that of Natura.'--A declaration so unexpected might very well
transport a young man, even beyond himself, and all considerations
whatever:--forgetful of the respect due to her quality and virtue, and
regardless of the place they were in, he seized her in his arms, and
almost smothered her with kisses, before she could disengage herself;
at length, breaking from him, 'It is not by such testimonies as
these,' said she, 'that I expected you should repay the acknowledgment
I have made; but by a full laying open your bosom, as to what passes
in it, in regard to my sister:--I know very well she loves you, and am
apt to believe she has not been more discreet than myself in
concealing it from you; but am altogether at a loss as to the returns
you may have made her passion.'
Natura now really loving her, hesitated not to do as she desired;
neither making any secret of the admiration which the abbess had
raised in him at first sight, nor the discourse she had lately
entertained him with, and the injunction she had laid upon him.
Elgidia took this as so great a proof of his affection, that she made
no scruple to ratify the confession she had made him by all the
endearments that innocence would permit:--after which, they consulted
together how he should behave to the abbess, whose temper being
violent, it was not proper to drive to extremes; and it was therefore
agreed between them, that he should continue to treat her with a shew
of tenderness: Elgidia even proposed, that he should renounce her, in
case the other continue to insist upon it; but Natura could not
consent his insincerity should go so far.
They parted, mutually content with each other; and Natura himself
believed his inclinations were now fixed, by the assurance Elgidia had
given him of the most true and perfect passion that ever was: but how
little do we know of our own hearts at his years! the next time he saw
the abbess alone, he relapsed into the same fluctuating state as
before, and found too much charms in the kindness she expressed for
him, to be able to withdraw himself intirely from her.
That lady, who loved to an excess, could not be any long time without
affording him the means of reconciliation; and the next morning, as
soon as breakfast was over, descended alone into the garden, giving
him a look at the same time, which commanded him to follow:--he did
so, and perceiving she took her way to the same arbour they had been
in before, he went in soon after her, affecting, rather than feeling,
a timidity in approaching her. 'Well, Natura,' said she, 'have you yet
examined your heart sufficiently, to know whether the full possession
of mine, can atone for your breaking with my sister';--to which he
replied, that as he had no engagements with Elgidia, nor had ever any
other thoughts of her, than such as were excited by that respect due
to her sex and rank, he was wholly ignorant in what manner it was
exacted from him to behave:--'but,' added he, 'if vowing that from the
first moment I beheld your charms, I became absolutely devoted to you,
may deserve any part of that affection you are pleased to flatter me
with, I am ready to give you all the assurances in the power of
words.'
This asseveration could not be called altogether false, because he had
really a latent inclination in him towards her, which all the
tenderness he had for Elgidia could not eradicate; and this it was
that gave all he said such an air of sincerity as won upon the abbess,
to believe her jealousy had misinterpreted the looks she had sometimes
seen him give her sister, and at length made her desist from
reproaching him on that score.
The tranquility of her mind being restored, she gave a loose to the
violence of her passion, in such caresses as might well make the
person who received them forgetful of all other obligations:--in these
transporting moments the lovely abbess had his whole soul:--he now,
unasked, abjured not only Elgidia, but all the sex beside, and even
wondered at himself for having ever entertained a wish beyond the
happiness he enjoyed at present.
The abbess was too well versed in the affairs of love, not to be
highly satisfied with the proofs he gave of his, than which, it is
certain, nothing for the time could be more sincere or ardent; death
was it to them both to put an end to this inchanting scene, but as
they were seen to go into the garden soon after one another, and too
long a stay together might occasion a suspicion of the cause, they
were obliged to separate, though not without a promise of meeting in
the same place at night, after the nuns were all retired to their
respective chambers.
The abbess passed through a back-way into the chapel, it being near
the time of prayers, and Natura returned by the great walk into the
outward cloister, where Elgidia seeing him at a distance, and alone,
waited his coming, to know of him how he had proceeded with her
sister.--Natura, yet full of the abbess and the favours he had
received from her, would have gladly dispenced with this interview;
but she was too near, before he perceived her, for him to draw back
with decency.
Far from suspecting any change in him, and judging of his integrity by
her own, 'I was impatient,' said she, 'to hear the event of your
conversation with the abbess; tell me therefore in a few words, for
the bell rings to chapel, whether you have succeeded so far as to
stifle all jealousies of me?' 'Yes, madam,' replied he, recovering
himself as well as he could from his confusion, 'we may be easy for
the future, as to that particular.'--'I long for the particulars of
your discourse' resumed she, 'but cannot now stay to be informed; meet
me in the garden after the sisterhood are in bed'; 'this,' continued
she, putting a key into his hand, 'will admit you by the gate that
leads to the road:--do not fail to be there at nine.'--The haste she
was in to be gone, would not have permitted him time to make any
answer, if he had been provided with one, and he could only just kiss
her hand as she turned from him.
But what was the dilemma he was now involved in! the hour, and place
she appointed, were the very same in which he was to meet the abbess!
impossible was it for him to gratify both, and not very easy to
deceive either:--he went back into the garden, ruminating what course
he should take in so intricate an affair; at first he thought of
writing a little billet, and slipping it into Elgidia's hand,
acquainting her that the abbess had commanded him to attend her in the
garden at the time she mentioned, and telling her that he thought it
necessary to obey, to prevent all future suspicion:--but he rejected
this design, not only as that young lady might possibly have the
curiosity to conceal herself behind the arbour, and would then be a
witness of things it was no way proper she should be informed of, but
also because his heart reproached him for having already done more
than he could answer, and forbad him to deceive her any farther; in
fine, that he might be guilty of perfidy to neither, he resolved to
quit both, at least for that night, but knew not yet on what he should
determine for the future.
Divine service being over, he repaired to the parlour, where, after
they were sat down to dinner, he said, addressing himself to the
abbess, that having sent his servant that morning to his lodgings, he
had received letters of the utmost importance, which required
immediate answers; and that he must be obliged for that reason to take
his leave; 'though with what regret,' added he, 'it is easy to
perceive, by the long stay I always make here.'
The abbess insisted upon it, that he should not go;--told him he might
write what he pleased there without interruption; and that his man
might carry his dispatches to the post: but all she urged could not
prevail, and both that lady and her sister had the mortification to
hear him give orders that his own horse should be got ready with all
expedition; as for his servant he was left behind for a few hours, on
the account of packing up some things he had brought him in the design
of staying a longer time.
In fine, he went away, with a promise of returning in a short time.
The abbess was inwardly fretted at the disappointment, but imagined it
was only occasioned by the motive he pretended, till a young nun who
was her confidante in all things, and had happened to cross the
cloyster when Natura and Elgidia were talking together before prayers,
and had seen him kiss her hand, informed her of this passage, and
added, of her own conjecture, that the abrupt departure of Natura was
owing to somewhat that lady had said to him:--there needed no more to
inflame the passionate and jealous abbess; she doubted not of being
betrayed, and flew directly to her sister's chamber, accused her of
being guilty of the most criminal intercourse with a stranger, and
threatened if she did not confess the whole truth to her, and swear
never to see him more, she would send an account of her behaviour to
their parents, who would not fail to thrust her into a less commodious
convent, and compel her to take the veil directly.
The mild and timid disposition of Elgidia, could not sustain this
shock; she immediately fainted away, and help being called to bring
her to herself, in opening her bosom a paper fell out of it, which the
abbess snatching up, ran to her chamber to examine, and found it
contained these words:
'To prevent my dear angel from being surprized at my sudden
departure, know that it is to avoid the abbess, who obliged me to
give her a promise of meeting her this night in the garden:--at my
next visit you shall be informed at full of all that passed
between us in the morning. Adieu.
Natura.
As Natura had no opportunity to make an excuse to Elgidia, he had
slipt this billet into her hand on taking leave; and though no more
was meant by it than to make her easy till his return, there was
sufficient in the expression not only to convince the abbess that her
sister was indeed her rival, but also to make her think herself had
been the dupe to their amour.--Impossible would it be to describe the
force of those passions, which, in this dreadful instant, overwhelmed
her soul; so I shall only say, it was as great as woman could sustain,
and which the impatience of venting on their proper object, put it
into her head to go to him in a disguise, and upbraid his perfidy. As
she seldom listened to any dictates, but those of her passion, this
design was no sooner formed than preparations were made for the
execution, nor could all her confidante urged, on the danger and
scandal of the attempt, deter her from it.
There was a fellow who was frequently employed about the monastery, in
whom she could confide:--him she sent to a farmer, with orders to hire
three horses, one for herself, another for her confidante, who, in
spite of all her apprehensions on that account, she would needs make
accompany her, and the third for the man, who was to attend them as a
valet, the little road they had to travel. This fellow was directed to
bring the horses about ten o'clock at night, at which time it would be
dark, to the corner of a wall at the farther end of the garden, when
she and her companion were to mount, and away on this wild expedition.
But while the abbess was busy on her project, Elgidia had also
another, though of somewhat a less desperate kind; her sister's temper
gave her but too much reason to believe she would revenge herself on
her by all the ways in her power; and trembling at the thoughts of
being exposed to her parents, and the censure of the world, as the
other had threatened, which she knew no way to avoid, but by Natura
making up this quarrel; and tho' she knew it could only be done by his
renouncing all pretensions to herself, yet she rather chose to lose
the man she loved, than her reputation. As she knew not whether the
abbess would delay the gratification of her malice any longer than the
next morning, she resolved to send for Natura that same night, in
order to engage him to a second reconciliation with her sister, let
the terms be never so cruel to herself.
She had no sooner laid this plot, than she ran to see if the servant
he had left behind was yet gone, and finding he was not, bad him wait
a little, that she might send a letter by him to his master. The
contents of her epistle were as follow:
'Something has happened, which lays me under a necessity of
speaking to you this night:--the only consolation I have under the
severest of all afflictions, is, that I did not take back the key
I gave you in the morning: I beg you will make use of it, and let
me find you in the close arbour as soon as the darkness will
permit your entrance unobserved:--fail not, if you have any regard
for the honour, the peace, and even the life of the unfortunate
Elgidia.
Natura had no sooner received this billet from the hands of his
servant, than all his tenderness for the fair authoress of it revived
in him, which, joined to his impatient curiosity for the knowledge of
the accident she mentioned, easily determined him to do as she
desired.
He set out at the close of day; but the moon rising immediately after,
shone so extremely bright as proved her, no less than the sun, an
enemy to the design he was at present engaged in; he was therefore
obliged to wait till that planet had withdrawn her light, before he
durst approach the convent.
The abbess and her companion having dressed themselves in riding
habits, went at the above-mentioned hour to the gate where they
expected the man and horses were attending their coming; but there was
not the least appearance of any.--the abbess, emboldened by her
impatience and despair, would needs venture out some paces beyond the
gate, to listen if she could hear any sound of what she wanted, but
had not long continued in that posture, before she discovered by the
twinkling light of the stars, two men on horseback, galloping directly
to the place where she stood:--impossible was it for her to discern
what sort of persons they were, but easy to know, as there were two
men, and no more than two horses, that they were not those she looked
for; on which she ran with all the haste she could back into the
garden, and clapping the gate after her, in her fright stopped not
till she was almost at the entrance of the cloyster:--both she and her
companion were out of breath; but when they had a little recovered it,
the latter took the liberty of railying her on the terror she had been
in, at the sight of two persons, who were, doubtless, only pursuing
their own affairs, without any thought or notice of them:--the abbess
acknowledged the pleasantry was just, and returned again to the gate,
which having opened, they found two horses tied to a tree, at a little
distance from it, without any person to look after them. She imagined
they belonged to the farmer, but could not guess wherefore there was
not a third, or how it happened that the man was not with them.--The
two lady-adventurers waited in hopes of seeing their attendant with
another horse, till the abbess, fearing the night would be too far
spent for the execution of her design, and grown quite wild with rage
and vexation, resolved to go without a guide; and accordingly she, and
the young nun that was with her, mounted the horses they found there,
and rode away.
Little did this distracted woman imagine to whom she was indebted for
the means of conveying herself where she wished to be; for in effect
these horses were Natura's, and it was no other than himself, attended
by his man, who had put her into that fright, which occasioned her
running so far back into the garden, as gave him time to enter,
without being either seen or heard by her:--he was no sooner within
the gate, than his servant tied the horses to a tree, as has been
related, and retired to a more convenient place, either to lye down to
sleep, or on some other occasion.--Thus did an accident which had like
to have broken all Elgidia's measures, turn wholly to the advantage of
them, and she found as much satisfaction, as a person in her situation
could possibly take, in finding Natura so punctual to the summons she
had sent:
It was with a flood of tears she related to him all that had passed
between the furious abbess and herself after his departure, and
concluded her discourse with beseeching him to see her in the morning,
and omit nothing that might pacify her, 'even,' said she, 'to forswear
ever speaking to me more.'
Natura was touched to the very soul at the grief he saw her in, and
equally with the tender consideration she had for him; and now more
devoted to her than ever, would have done any thing to prove the
sincerity of his passion, but that which she demanded of him:--it was
in vain she urged the impossibility of keeping a correspondence
together under the same roof with a rival who had all the power in her
own hands; or that she represented how much better it would be for
both to break off so dangerous an intercourse of themselves, before
the rage of the abbess should put her upon doing it, in a manner which
might involve them all in destruction:--all the arguments she made use
of, only served to render him more amorous, and consequently less able
to part with her.--The difference he found between these two sisters;
the outrageous temper of the one, compared with the prudence,
sweetness, and gentleness of the other, rendered the comparison almost
odious to him; and as he could not but acknowledge the impractibility
of maintaining a conversation with the latter, without the
participation of the former; nor though he should even consent to
divide himself between them, would either of them be content, he told
Elgidia, that the only way to solve these difficulties, was, for her
to fly from the monastery, and be the partner of his fortune, as she
was the mistress of his heart.
Such a proposition made her start!--to abandon all her friends, and
put herself wholly in the power of a stranger, of whose fortune,
family, or fidelity, she could not be assured, gave her very just
alarms; but whatever was her reluctance at the first mention of such
an enterprize, the extreme passion she had for him, rendered all her
apprehensions, by degrees, less formidable:--he told her he had no
other wishes, than such as were dictated by honour;--that he would
marry her as soon as they should arrive at a place where the ceremony
could be performed with safety:--that he was heir to a considerable
estate after his father's death, that on his return to England he
should have a handsome settlement out of it, and that his present
allowance was sufficient to keep them above want.--People easily
believe what they wish, especially from the mouth of a beloved
person.--Natura indeed had uttered no untruths as to his
circumstances, but as to the main point, his marrying her, it is
impossible to judge whether in that he was sincere, because he knew
not himself whether he was so, tho' in the vehemence of his present
inclinations he might imagine he did so, and at that time really meant
as he said.
Be that as it may, Elgidia suffered herself to be won by his
perswasions; and being so, the present opportunity was not to be
lost.--He had horses at the gate, could conduct her, he said, where
she might be concealed till they got quite out of the reach of her
kindred, and failed not to remonstrate, that if she delayed, but even
till the next morning, not only the jealousy of the abbess, but a
thousand other accidents, might separate them for ever.
As the lovers past their time in this manner, the distracted abbess
was prosecuting her journey, in quest of him she had left behind: as
the way she had to go was so short, there was no great danger of any
mischief attending it, neither did any happen; but how great was her
confusion! when arriving at the house where Natura lodged, she was
told he went out in the evening, on the receipt of a billet brought
him by his servant.--This disappointment destroyed all the remains of
temperance had been left in her; she presently guessed the billet came
from no other than Elgidia, doubted not but they were together, and
figured in her mind a scene of tenderness between them so cruel to her
imagination, that frenzy itself scarce exceeded what she endured:--she
rode back with even more precipitation than she had set out, and being
alighted at the gate thro' the great walk, supposing Elgidia had
brought him into her chamber, where, if she found them, thought of
nothing, but sacrificing one or both of them to her resentment.
In this situation of mind, it cannot be imagined she had any thought
about the horses; but her companion having more the power of
reflection, and judging them to be the farmer's, thought it best to
tye them to a tree within the garden, that so they might be secured,
and sent to him in the morning; which having done, and shut the gate,
she was going to follow the abbess, when she met her coming back:--'I
have considered,' said she, 'that my perfidious sister would rather
chuse the close arbour for her rendezvous, than her own chamber, where
there would be more danger of being overheard by the nuns who lie near
her;--go you therefore,' continued she, 'and wait me in my apartment,
while I search the garden.'
The nun obeyed, glad to be eased of this nocturnal attendance, and the
abbess drew near, as softly as she could, to the arbour; and standing
behind the covert of the greens of which it was composed, heard the
consent Elgidia gave to accompany Natura, and saw her quit him, with a
promise of returning, as soon as she had put on a habit somewhat more
proper for travelling.
Had she followed the first dictates of her passion in this stabbing
circumstance, she had either pursued her sister, and inflicted on her
all that vindictive malice could suggest, or run into the arbour, and
discharged some part of her fury on Natura:--each alike shared her
resentment, but divided between both, lost its effects on either:--a
revenge more pleasing, and less unbecoming of a female mind, at length
got the better of those furious resolves;--she thought, that as every
thing favoured such a design, and she was equipped for the purpose, to
take the place of her sister, would afford her an exquisite triumph
over the disappointment she should occasion them: accordingly, after
staying long enough to encourage the deception, she came round the
arbour, and entered at the passage by which Elgidia had gone
out:--Natura, not doubting but it was his beloved, took her in his
arms, saying, 'How transporting is the expedition you have made in
your return; and indeed we had need of it, for the night is far
exhausted, and it is necessary you should be out of this part of the
country before day-break.'
The abbess answered not to what he said, but gave him her hand; on
which he led her towards the gate, entertaining her with the most
endearing expressions as they walked, to all which she was still dumb.
Natura was not surprized at it, as imagining she was too much
engrossed by the thoughts of what she was about to do, to be able to
speak:--but how great was his mortification, when having opened the
gate, he found his servant, who having missed the horses, was just
come back from a fruitless search of them.--He drew his sword, and had
not the fellow stept nimbly aside, had certainly killed him:--while he
was venting his passion in the severest terms, the abbess shut the
gate upon him, and locked it with her own key, which, leaving in the
lock, the one he had made use of, could now be of no service.--A
caprice he had so little reason to expect in Elgidia, might very well
surprize him, especially at a time when both had so much cause to be
more grave!--he called to her, he complained, he even reproached the
unkindness, and ill-manners of this treatment, while the abbess
indulged on the other side the most spiteful pleasure in his vexation.
She left him railing at fate and womankind, without convincing him of
his error, when as she was going to the monastery, she met Elgidia
just coming out, and directing her steps towards the arbour:--they
were in the same path, and facing each other:--Elgidia, full of the
fears which usually attend actions of the nature she was about to do,
no sooner perceived the form of a woman, and habited in the same
manner as herself, than she took it for a spirit; and terrified almost
to death, cried out, 'a ghost! a ghost!' and ran, shrieking, with all
her force to the cloyster, resolved, as much as it then was in her
power to resolve on any thing, to desist from her enterprise.--She
made no stop, till she got into her chamber, where she threw herself
on the bed, in a condition not to be described.
The abbess was so well satisfied with the success of this last
stratagem, that it greatly abated the thoughts of taking any further
revenge:--she went laughing to her confidante, and told her the whole
story, who congratulated her upon it, and said, that in her opinion,
she might take it as a peculiar providence of Heaven, that had
disappointed her first design, which could only have increased her
confusion, and probably brought a lasting scandal on the order. The
abbess wanted not reason, when her passion would permit her to exert
it, and could not help confessing the truth of what the other
remonstrated:--she now easily saw they were Natura's horses they had
made use of, but how it came to pass that those she had bespoke, or
the man she had ordered to bring them, happened to fail, remained a
point yet to be discussed:--the morning, however, cleared it up;--the
fellow acquainted her, that the farmer had no horses at home, and that
as he was coming to let her know it, he saw two men at the gate, one
of whom entered, so that he imagined she had provided herself
elsewhere:--she then bad him turn out Natura's horses, which the nun
having said how she had disposed of them, not thinking herself obliged
to take any care of what belonged to a man, who had treated her with
so much ingratitude.
Natura was all this time in the utmost perplexity, not only at the
usage he imagined had been given him by Elgidia, but also for the loss
of his horses; and at being told when he came home, that two women, in
riding habits, well mounted, but without any attendants, had been to
enquire for him:--all these things, the meaning of any one of which he
was not able to fathom, so filled his head, that he could not take any
repose:--pretty early in the morning, a letter was brought him from
Elgidia, which he hastily opened, but found nothing in it, but what
served to heighten his amazement and discontent.
She told him that she could not dispense with letting him know the
occasion of her breach of promise; that intending nothing more than to
perform it, she was hastening to the arbour, when, in the middle of
the garden, she was met by an apparition, which, as near as she could
discern, had the resemblance of herself;--that the terror she was in
had obliged her to retire; and that as she could look on what she had
seen, as no other than a warning from Heaven, she had determined to
use her utmost endeavours for extinguishing a passion obnoxious to its
will; to which end she desired he would make no farther attempts to
engage her to an act so contrary to her duty, or even ever to see her
more.
Natura had so little notion of spirits and ghosts, that at first he
took this story only as a pretence, to cover a levity he had not
suspected her to be guilty of; but when he reflected on the silence of
the person he had taken for her, and the description of those who had
been to enquire for him, he began to imagine, as he had not the least
thought of the abbess, that something supernatural had indeed walked
the garden that night, and had also been at his own lodgings in order
to perplex him more:--a thousand little tales he had been told in his
infancy, concerning the tricks played on mortals by those shadowy
beings, now came fresh into his mind; and as the belief of what
Elgidia had wrote gained ground in him, was not far from being of her
opinion, that it was a warning from Providence, and to repent of
having attempted to snatch from the altar a woman devoted to it.
It is doubtless accidents such as this, that have given rise to so
many stories of apparitions, as have been propagated in the world; and
had not Natura been afterwards informed of the whole truth, it is
likely he would have been as great a defender of these ideas, as any
who are accounted superstitious:--but however that might have been, it
wrought so strongly on his mind at present, that joined with the
considerations of those perpetual perplexities which must infallibly
attend an ecclesiastical intrigue; besides, those which the abbess
would involve him in, made him resolve to obey Elgidia's commands, and
pursue the matter no farther, but go directly to the baron d' Eyrac's,
who he heard was still at his country-house.
The loss of his horses, however, very much vexed him; he bought them,
because he preferred that way of travelling to a post-chaise: they had
cost him forty louis d'ores in Paris, and knew not whether the country
he was in would afford him any so fit for his purpose:--he was just
sending his man to enquire where others were to be had, when his own
were at the door, without the least damage done either to themselves
or saddles:--the farmer who had the care of them while he was at the
monastery, found them wandering in the field, and easily knowing to
whom they belonged, brought them home.
This was some consolation to him for the loss of his mistresses; and
he began to resolve seriously on his departure; but thinking it would
be the highest ungenerosity to quit the convent, without acknowledging
the favours he had received there, he wrote a letter to the abbess,
full of gratitude and civility, telling her, that tho' the necessity
of his affairs required he should take an eternal leave of that place,
he should always preserve the memory of those honours he had received
in it.--To Elgidia he wrote in much the same strain she had done to
him, and concluded with desiring her to believe it was to Heaven alone
he could resign her. Those letters he sent by his man, and ordered him
to leave them with the portress, to avoid any answers which might have
drawn him into a longer correspondence than he desired, or perhaps
even have occasioned a revival of those inclinations in him, which he
was now convinced of the folly and danger of.
This was the first proof he gave of a firmness of resolution, and was
indeed as great a one as could have been expected from a man of the
age he was:--it must be owned, that at that time love is the strongest
passion of the soul, and as neither Elgidia nor the abbess wanted
charms to inspire it, and he had been but too sensible of the force of
both, to be able, I say, to tear himself away in the manner he now
did, was a piece of heroism, which I with every one in the like
circumstance may have power to imitate.
He hired another horse and guide, that he might not lose his way a
second time, and departed the same day for the baron's, where he was
received by that young nobleman with the utmost kindness as well as
politeness, and found so much in his conversation, and those who came
to visit him, and the continual amusements of that place, as made him
soon forget all he had partook in the monastery:--he remained there
while the baron stayed, and then came with him to Paris.
On his return he frequented the same company, and pursued the same
pleasures he had done before; but as nothing extraordinary befel him,
I shall not enter into particulars, my design being only to relate
such adventures as gave an opportunity for the passions to exert
themselves in influencing the conduct of his life.