Ring; and afterwards two Cavaliers undertook to defend the Beauty of
Donna Catharina, against all who would not allow her preheminence of
their Mistresses. This thing was only designed for show and form, none
presuming that any body would put so great an affront upon the Bride
and Duke’s Kinswoman, as to dispute her pretentions to the first place
in the Court of Venus. But here our Cavaliers were under a mistake; for
seeing a large Shield carry’d before two Knights, with a Lady painted
upon it; not knowing who, but reading the Inscription which was (in
large Gold Letters) Above the Insolence of Competition. They thought
themselves obliged, especially in the presence of their Mistresses, to
vindicate their Beauty; and were just spurring on to engage the
Champions, when a Gentleman stopping them, told them their mistake,
that it was the Picture of Donna Catharina, and a particular Honour
done to her by his Highness’s Commands, and not to be disputed. Upon
this they would have returned to their Post, much concerned for their
mistake; but notice being taken by Don Ferdinand of some Show of
Opposition that was made, he would have begged leave of the Duke, to
have maintained his Lady’s Honour against the Insolence of those
Cavaliers; but the Duke would by no means permit it. They were arguing
about it when one of them came up, before whom the Shield was born, and
demanded his Highness’s Permission, to inform those Gentlemen better of
their mistake, by giving them the Foyl. By the Intercession of Don
Ferdinand, leave was given them; whereupon a Civil Challenge was sent
to the two Strangers, informing them of their Error, and withal telling
them they must either maintain it by force of Arms, or make a publick
acknowledgment by riding bare headed before the Picture once round the
Lists. The Stranger-Cavaliers remonstrated to the Duke how sensible
they were of their Error, and though they would not justifie it, yet
they could not decline the Combate, being pressed to it beyond an
honourable refusal. To the Bride they sent a Complement, wherein,
having first begg’d her pardon for not knowing her Picture, they gave
her to understand, that now they were not about to dispute her
undoubted right to the Crown of Beauty, but the honour of being her
Champions was the Prize they fought for, which they thought themselves
as able to maintain as any other Pretenders. Wherefore they pray’d her,
that if fortune so far befriended their endeavours as to make them
Victors, that they might receive no other Reward, but to be crown’d
with the Titles of their Adversaries, and be ever after esteem’d as her
most humble Servants. The excuse was so handsomely designed, and much
better express’d than it is here, that it took effect. The Duke, Don
Ferdinand and his Lady were so well satisfied with it as to grant their
Request.
While the running at the Ring lasted, our Cavaliers alternately bore
away great share of the Honour. That Sport ended, Marshals were
appointed for the Field, and every thing in great form settled for the
Combat. The Cavaliers were all in good earnest, but orders were given
to bring ’em blunted Lances, and to forbid the drawing of a Sword upon
pain of his Highness’s Displeasure. The Trumpets sounded and they began
their Course: The Ladies’ Hearts, particularly the Incognita and
Leonora’s beat time to the Horses Hoofs, and hope and fear made a mock
Fight within their tender Breasts, each wishing and doubting success
where she lik’d: But as the generality of their Prayers were for the
graceful Strangers, they accordingly succeeded. Aurelian’s Adversary
was unhorsed in the first Encounter, and Hippolito’s lost both Stirrups
and dropt his Lance to save himself. The Honour of the Field was
immediately granted to them, and Don Catharina sent them both Favours,
which she pray’d them to wear as her Knights. The Crowd breaking up,
our Cavaliers made a shift to steal off unmarked, save by the watchful
Leonora and Incognita, whose Eyes were never off from their respective
Servants. There was enquiry made for them, but to no purpose; for they
to prevent their being discovered had prepared another House, distant
from their Lodging, where a Servant attended to disarm them, and
another carried back their Horses to the Villa, while they walked
unsuspected to their Lodging; but Incognita had given command to a Page
to dog ’em till the Evening, at a distance, and bring her word where
they were latest housed.
While several Conjectures pass’d among the Company, who were all gone
to Dinner at the Palace, who those Cavaliers should be, Don Fabio
thought himself the only Man able to guess; for he knew for certain
that his Son and Hippolito were both in Town, and was well enough
pleased with his humour of remaining Incognito till the Diversions
should be over, believing then that the surprize of his Discovery would
add much to the Gallantry he had shown in Masquerade; but hearing the
extraordinary liking that every body express’d, and in a particular
manner, the great Duke himself, to the Persons and Behaviour of the
unknown Cavaliers, the Old Gentleman could not forbear the Vanity to
tell his Highness, that he believed he had an interest in one of the
Gentlemen, whom he was pleased to honour with so favourable a
Character; and told him what reason he had to believe the one to be his
Son, and the other a Spanish Nobleman, his Friend.
This discovery having thus got vent, was diffused like Air; every body
suck’d it in, and let it out again with their Breath to the next they
met withal; and in half an hours time it was talked of in the House
where our Adventurers were lodged. Aurelian was stark mad at the News,
and knew what search would be immediately made for him. Hippolito, had
he not been desperately in Love, would certainly have taken Horse and
rid out of Town just then, for he could make no longer doubt of being
discovered, and he was afraid of the just Exceptions Leonora might make
to a Person who had now deceived her twice. Well, we will leave them
both fretting and contriving to no purpose, to look about and see what
was done at the Palace, where their doom was determined much quicker
than they imagined.
Dinner ended, the Duke retired with some chosen Friends to a Glass of
Wine; among whom were the Marquess of Viterbo and Don Fabio. His
Highness was no Stranger to the long Fewd that had been between the two
Families, and also understood what Overtures of Reconciliation had been
lately made, with the Proposals of Marriage between Aurelian and the
Marquess’s Daughter. Having waited till the Wine had taken the effect
proposed, and the Company were raised to an uncommon pitch of
Chearfulness, which he also encouraged by an Example of Freedom and
Good Humour, he took an opportunity of rallying the two grave Signiors
into an Accommodation: That was seconded with the praises of the young
Couple, and the whole Company joined in a large Encomium upon the
Graces of Aurelian and the Beauties of Juliana. The old Fellows were
tickled with Delight to hear their Darlings so admired, which the Duke
perceiving, out of a Principle of Generosity and Friendship, urged the
present Consummation of the Marriage; telling them there was yet one
day of publick Rejoycing to come, and how glad he should be to have it
improved by so acceptable an Alliance; and what an honour it would be
to have his Cousin’s Marriage attended by the Conjunction of so
extraordinary a Pair, the performance of which Ceremony would crown the
Joy that was then in Agitation, and make the last day vie for equal
Glory and Happiness with the first. In short, by the Complaisant and
Perswasive Authority of the Duke, the Dons were wrought into a
Compliance, and accordingly embraced and shook Hands upon the Matter.
This News was dispersed like the former, and Don Fabio gave orders for
the enquiring out his Son’s Lodging, that the Marquess and he might
make him a Visit, as soon as he had acquainted Juliana with his
purpose, that she might prepare her self. He found her very chearful
with Donna Catharina and several other Ladies; whereupon the old
Gentleman, pretty well warmed with the Duke’s Goodfellowship, told her
aloud he was come to crown their Mirth with another Wedding; that his
Highness had been pleased to provide a Husband for his Daughter, and he
would have her provide her self to receive him to-morrow. All the
Company at first, as well as Juliana her self, thought he had rally’d,
till the Duke coming in confirmed the serious part of his Discourse.
Juliana was confounded at the haste that was imposed on her, and
desired a little time to consider what she was about. But the Marquess
told her, she should have all the rest of her Life to consider in; that
Aurelian should come and consider with her in the Morning, if she
pleased; but in the mean time, he advised her to go home and call her
Maids to Counsel.
Juliana took her leave of the Company very gravely, as if not much
delighted with her Father’s Rallery. Leonora happened to be by, and
heard all that passed; she was ready to swoon, and found her self
seized with a more violent Passion than ever for Aurelian: Now upon her
apprehensions of losing him, her active fancy had brought him before
her with all the advantages imaginable, and though she had before found
great tenderness in her Inclination toward him, yet was she somewhat
surprized to find she really lov’d him. She was so uneasie at what she
had heard, that she thought it convenient to steal out of the presence
and retire to her Closet, to bemoan her unhappy helpless Condition.
Our Two Cavalier-Lovers had rack’d their Invention till it was quite
disabled, and could not make discovery of one Contrivance more for
their Relief. Both sat silent, each depending upon his Friend, and
still expecting when t’other should speak. Night came upon them while
they sate thus thoughtless, or rather drowned in Thought; but a Servant
bringing Lights into the Room awakened them: And Hippolito’s Speech,
usher’d by a profound Sigh, broke Silence.
‘Well! (said he) what must we do, Aurelian? We must suffer, replied
Aurelian faintly. When immediately raising his Voice, he cry’d out, ‘Oh
ye unequal Powers, why do ye urge us to desire what ye doom us to
forbear; give us a Will to chuse, then curb us with a Duty to restrain
that Choice! Cruel Father, Will nothing else suffice! Am I to be the
Sacrifice to expiate your Offences past; past ere I was born? Were I to
lose my Life, I’d gladly Seal your Reconcilement with my Blood. ‘But Oh
my Soul is free, you have no Title to my Immortal Being, that has
Existence independent of your Power; and must I lose my Love, the
Extract of that Being, the Joy, Light, Life, and Darling of my Soul?
No, I’ll own my Flame, and plead my Title too.—But hold, wretched
Aurelian, hold, whither does thy Passion hurry thee? Alas! the cruel
fair Incognita Loves thee not! She knows not of thy Love! If she did,
what Merit hast thou to pretend?—Only Love.—Excess of Love. And all the
World has that. All that have seen her. Yet I had only seen her once,
and in that once I lov’d above the World; nay, lov’d beyond my self,
such vigorous Flame, so strong, so quick she darted at my Breast; it
must rebound, and by Reflection, warm her self. Ah! welcome Thought,
lovely deluding Fancy, hang still upon my Soul, let me but think, that
once she Loves and perish my Despair.
Here a suddain stop gave a Period also to Hippolito’s Expectation, and
he hoped now that his Friend had given his Passion so free a vent, he
might recollect and bethink himself of what was convenient to be done;
but Aurelia, as if he had mustered up all his Spirits purely to acquit
himself of that passionate Harangue, stood mute and insensible like an
Alarum Clock, that had spent all its force in one violent Emotion.
Hippolito shook him by the Arm to rouze him from his Lethargy, when his
Lacquey coming into the Room, out of Breath, told him there was a Coach
just stopp’d at the Door, but he did not take time to who came in it.
Aurelian concluded immediately it was his Father in quest of him; and
without saying any more to Hippolito, than that he was Ruined if
discovered, took his Sword and slipp’d down a back pair of Stairs into
the Garden, from whence he conveyed himself into the Street. Hippolito
had not bethought himself what to do, before he perceiv’d a Lady come
into the Chamber close veil’d, and make toward him. At the first
Appearance of a Woman, his Imagination flattered him with a Thought of
Leonora; but that was quickly over upon nearer Approach to the Lady,
who had much the Advantage in Stature of his Mistress. He very civilly
accosted her, and asked if he were the Person to whom the Honour of
that Visit was intended. She said, her Business was with Don Hippolito
di Saviolina, to whom she had Matter of Concern to import, and which
required haste. He had like to have told her, That he was the Man, but
by good Chance reflecting upon his Friend’s Adventure, who had taken
his name, he made Answer, that he believed Don Hippolito not far off,
and if she had a Moments Patience he would enquire for him.
He went out, leaving the Lady in the Room, and made search all round
the House and Garden for Aurelian, but to no purpose. The Lady
impatient of his long stay took a Pen and Ink and some Paper which she
found upon the Table, and had just made an End of her Letter, when
hearing a Noise of more than one coming up Stairs, she concluded his
Friend had found him, and that her Letter would be to no purpose, so
tore it in pieces, which she repented; when turning about, she found
her Mistake, and beheld Don Fabio and the Marquess of Viterbo just
entring at the Door. She gave a Shriek at the Surprize of their
Appearance, which much troubled the Old Gentlemen, and made them retire
in Confusion for putting a Gentlewoman into such a Fright. The Marquess
thinking they had been misinformed, or had mistaken the Lodgings, came
forward again, and made an Apology to the Lady for their Errour; but
she making no reply, walk’d directly by him down Stairs and went into
her Coach, which hurried her away as speedily as the Horses were able
to draw.
The Dons were at a loss what to think, when, Hippolito coming into the
Room to give the Lady an Account of his Errant, was no less astonished
to find she was departed, and had left Two Old Signiors in her stead.
He knew Don Fabio’s Face, for Aurelian had shewn him his Father at the
Tilting; but being confident he was not known to him, he ventur’d to
ask him concerning a Lady whom just now he had left in that Chamber.
Don Fabio told him, she was just gone down, and doubted they had been
Guilty of a Mistake, in coming to enquire for a Couple of Gentlemen
whom they were informed were Lodged in that House; he begg’d his Pardon
if he had any Relation to that Lady, and desired to know if he could
give them any Account of the Persons they sought for. Hippolito made
answer, He was a Stranger in the Place, and only a Servant to that Lady
whom they had disturb’d, and whom he must go and seek out. And in this
Perplexity he left them, going again in Search of Aurelian, to inform
him of what had passed.
The Old Gentlemen at last meeting with a Servant of the House, were
directed to Signior Claudio’s Chamber, where they were no sooner
entered but Aurelian came into the House. A Servant who had skulk’d for
him by Hippolito’s Order, followed him up into the Chamber, and told
him who was with Claudio then making Enquiry for him. He thought that
to be no Place for him, since Claudio must needs discover all the Truth
to his Father; wherefore he left Directions with the Servant, where
Hippolito should meet him in the Morning. As he was going out of the
Room he espied the torn Paper, which the Lady had thrown upon the
Floor: The first piece he took up had Incognita written upon it; the
sight of which so Alarum’d him, he scarce knew what he was about; but
hearing a Noise of a Door opening over Head, with as much Care as was
consistent with the haste he was then in, he gathered up scattered
pieces of Paper, and betook himself to a Ramble.
Coming by a Light which hung at the Corner of a Street, he join’d the
torn Papers and collected thus much, that Incognita had Written the
Note, and earnestly desired (if there were any reality in what he
pretended to her) to meet her at Twelve a Clock that Night at a Convent
Gate; but unluckily the Bit of Paper which should have mentioned what
Convent, was broken off and lost.
Here was a large Subject for Aurelian’s Passion, which he did not spare
to pour forth in Abundance of Curses on his Stars. So earnest was he in
the Contemplation of his Misfortunes, that he walk’d on unwittingly;
till at length Silence (and such as was only to be found in that part
the Town, whither his unguided Steps had carried him) surpriz’d his
Attention. I say, a profound Silence rouzed him from his Thought; and a
clap of Thunder could have done no more.
Now because it is possible this at some time or other may happen to be
read by some Malicious or Ignorant Person, (no Reflection upon the
present Reader) who will not admit, or does not understand that Silence
should make a Man start; and have the same Effect, in provoking his
Attention, with its opposite Noise; I will illustrate this matter, to
such a diminutive Critick, by a Parallel Instance of Light; which
though it does chiefly entertain the Eyes, and is indeed the prime
Object of the Sight, yet should it immediately cease, to have a Man
left in the Dark by a suddain deficiency of it, would make him stare
with his Eyes, and though he could not see, endeavour to look about
him. Why just thus did it fare with our Adventurer; who seeming to have
wandred both into the Dominions of Silence and of Night, began to have
some tender for his own Safety, and would willingly have groped his Way
back again; when he heard a Voice, as from a Person whose Breath had
been stopp’d by some forcible Oppression, and just then, by a violent
Effort, was broke through the Restraint.—‘Yet—Yet—(again reply’d the
Voice, still struggling for Air,) ‘Forbear—and I’ll forgive what’s
past—I have done nothing yet that needs a Pardon, (says another) and
what is to come, will admit of none.
Here the Person who seemed to be the Oppressed, made several Attempts
to speak, but they were only inarticulate Sounds, being all interrupted
and choaked in their Passage.
Aurelian was sufficiently astonish’d, and would have crept nearer to
the Place whence he guessed the Voice to come; but he was got among the
Runes of an Old Monastery, and could not stir so silently, but some
loose Stones he met with made a rumbling. The Noise alarm’d both
Parties; and as it gave Comfort to the one, it so Terrified the
t’other, that he could not hinder the Oppressed from calling for help.
Aurelian fancy’d it was a Woman’s Voice, and immediately drawing his
Sword, demanded what was the Matter; he was answered with the
Appearance of a Man, who had opened a Dark Lanthorn which he had by
him, and came toward him with a Pistol in his Hand ready cock’d.
Aurelian seeing the irresistable advantage his Adversary had over him,
would fain have retired; and, by the greatest Providence in the World,
going backwards fell down over some loose Stones that lay in his Way,
just in that Instant of Time when the Villain fired his Pistol, who
seeing him fall, concluded he had Shot him. The Crys of the afflicted
Person were redoubled at the Tragical Sight, which made the Murderer,
drawing a Poniard, to threaten him, that the next Murmur should be his
last. Aurelian, who was scarce assured that he was unhurt, got softly
up; and coming near enough to perceive the Violence that was used to
stop the Injured Man’s Mouth; (for now he saw plainly it was a Man)
cry’d out,—Turn, Villain, and look upon thy Death.—The Fellow amazed at
the Voice, turn’d about to have snatch’d up the Lanthorn from the
Ground; either to have given Light only to himself, or to have put out
the Candle, that he might have made his Escape; but which of the Two he
designed, no Body could tell but himself: and if the Reader have a
Curiosity to know, he must blame Aurelian; who thinking there could be
no foul play offered to such a Villain, ran him immediately through the
Heart, so that he drop’d down Dead at his Feet, without speaking a
Word. He would have seen who the Person was he had thus happily
delivered, but the Dead Body had fallen upon the Lanthorn, which put
out the Candle: However coming up toward him, he ask’d him how he did,
and bid him be of good Heart; he was answered with nothing but Prayers,
Blessings and Thanks, called a Thousand Deliverers, good Genius’s and
Guardian Angels. And the Rescued would certainly have gone upon his
Knees to have worshipped him, had he not been bound Hand and Foot;
which Aurelian understanding, groped for the Knots, and either untied
them or cut them asunder; but ’tis more probable the latter, because
more expeditious.
They took little heed what became of the Body which they left behind
them, and Aurelian was conducted from out the Ruins by the Hand of him
he had delivered. By a faint light issuing from the just rising Moon,
he could discern that it was a Youth; but coming into a more frequented
part of the Town, where several Lights were hung out, he was amaz’d at
the extream Beauty which appeared in his Face, though a little pale and
disordered with his late fright. Aurelian longed to hear the Story of
so odd an adventure, and entreated his Charge to tell it him by the
way; but he desired him to forbear till they were come into some House
or other, where he might rest and recover his tired Spirits, for yet he
was so faint he was unable to look up. Aurelian thought these last
words were delivered in a Voice, whose accent was not new to him. That
thought made him look earnestly in the Youth’s Face, which he now was
sure he had somewhere seen before, and thereupon asked him if he had
never been at Siena? That Question made the young Gentleman look up,
and something of a Joy appeared in his Countenance, which yet he
endeavoured to smother; so praying Aurelian to conduct him to his
Lodging, he promised him that as soon as they should come thither, he
would acquaint him with any thing he desired to know. Aurelian would
rather have gone any where else than to his own Lodging; but being so
very late he was at a loss, and so forced to be contented.
As soon as they were come into his Chamber, and that Lights were
brought them and the Servant dismissed, the paleness which so visibly
before had usurped the sweet Countenance of the afflicted Youth
vanished, and gave place to a more lively Flood of Crimson, which with
a modest heat glow’d freshly on his Cheeks. Aurelian waited with a
pleasing Admiration the discovery promised him, when the Youth still
struggling with his Resolution, with a timorous haste, pulled off a
Peruke which had concealed the most beautiful abundance of Hair that
ever graced one Female Head; those dishevelled spreading tresses, as at
first they made a discovery of, so at last they served for a veil to
the modest lovely blushes of the fair Incognita; for she it was and
none other. But Oh! the inexpressible, inconceivable joy and amazement
of Aurelian! As soon as he durst venture to think, he concluded it to
be all Vision, and never doubted so much of any thing in his Life as of
his being then awake. But she taking him by the Hand, and desiring him
to sit down by her, partly convinced him of the reality of her
presence.
‘This is the second time, Don Hippolito, (said she to him) ‘that I have
been here this Night. What the occasion was of my seeking you out, and
how by miracle you preserved me, would add too much to the surprize I
perceive you to be already in should I tell you: Nor will I make any
further discovery, till I know what censure you pass upon the
confidence which I have put in you, and the strange Circumstances in
which you find me at this time. I am sensible they are such, that I
shall not blame your severest Conjectures; but I hope to convince you,
when you shall hear what I have to say in justification of my Vertue.
‘Justification! (cry’d Aurelian) what Infidel dares doubt it! Then
kneeling down, and taking her Hand, ‘Ah Madam (says he) would Heaven
would no other ways look upon, than I behold your Perfections—Wrong not
your Creature with a Thought, he can be guilty of that horrid Impiety
as once to doubt your Vertue—Heavens! (cry’d he, starting up) ‘am I so
really blessed to see you once again! May I trust my Sight?—Or does my
fancy now only more strongly work?—For still I did preserve your Image
in my Heart, and you were ever present to my dearest Thoughts.—
‘Enough Hippolito, enough of Rapture (said she) you cannot much accuse
me of Ingratitude; for you see I have not been unmindful of you; but
moderate your Joy till I have told you my Condition, and if for my sake
you are raised to this Delight, it is not of a long continuance.
At that (as Aurelian tells the Story) a Sigh diffused a mournful
sweetness through the Air, and liquid grief fell gently from her Eyes,
triumphant sadness sat upon her Brow, and even sorrow seem’d delighted
with the Conquest he had made. See what a change Aurelian felt! His
Heart bled Tears, and trembled in his Breast; Sighs struggling for a
vent had choaked each others passage up: His Floods of Joys were all
supprest; cold doubts and fears had chill’d ’em with a sudden Frost,
and he was troubled to excess; yet knew not why. Well, the Learned say
it was Sympathy; and I am always of the Opinion with the Learned, if
they speak first.
After a World of Condoleance had passed between them, he prevailed with
her to tell him her Story. So having put all her Sighs into one great
Sigh, she discharged her self of ’em all at once, and formed the
Relation you are just about to Read.