The River _Loyre_ has on its delightful Banks abundance of handsome,
beautiful and rich Towns and Villages, to which the noble Stream adds no
small Graces and Advantages, blessing their Fields with Plenty, and
their Eyes with a thousand Diversions. In one of these happily situated
Towns, called _Orleans_, where abundance of People of the best Quality
and Condition reside, there was a rich Nobleman, now retir'd from the
busy Court, where in his Youth he had been bred, weary'd with the Toils
of Ceremony and Noise, to enjoy that perfect Tranquillity of Life, which
is no where to be found but in Retreat, a faithful Friend, and a good
Library; and, as the admirable _Horace_ says, in a little House and a
large Garden. Count _Bellyaurd_, for so was this Nobleman call'd, was of
this Opinion; and the rather, because he had one only Son, called
_Rinaldo_, now grown to the Age of fifteen, who having all the excellent
Qualities and Graces of Youth by Nature, he would bring him up in all
Virtues and noble Sciences, which he believ'd the Gaiety and Lustre of
the Court might divert: he therefore in his Retirement spar'd no Cost to
those that could instruct and accomplish him; and he had the best Tutors
and Masters that could be purchased at Court: _Bellyaurd_ making far
less Account of Riches than of fine Parts. He found his Son capable of
all Impressions, having a Wit suitable to his delicate Person, so that
he was the sole Joy of his Life, and the Darling of his Eyes.
In the very next House, which join'd close to that of _Bellyaurd's_,
there lived another Count, who had in his Youth been banished the Court
of _France_ for some Misunderstandings in some high Affairs wherein he
was concern'd: his Name was _De Pais_, a Man of great Birth, but of no
Fortune; or at least one not suitable to the Grandeur of his Original.
And as it is most natural for great Souls to be most proud (if I may
call a handsome Disdain by that vulgar Name) when they are most
depress'd; so _De Pais_ was more retir'd, more estrang'd from his
Neighbours, and kept a greater Distance, than if he had enjoy'd all he
had lost at Court; and took more Solemnity and State upon him, because
he would not be subject to the Reproaches of the World, by making
himself familiar with it: So that he rarely visited; and, contrary to
the Custom of those in _France_, who are easy of Access, and free of
Conversation, he kept his Family retir'd so close, that 'twas rare to
see any of them; and when they went abroad, which was but seldom, they
wanted nothing as to outward Appearance, that was fit for his Quality,
and what was much above his Condition.
This old Count had two only Daughters, of exceeding Beauty, who gave the
generous Father ten thousand Torments, as often as he beheld them, when
he consider'd their extreme Beauty, their fine Wit, their Innocence,
Modesty, and above all their Birth; and that he had not a Fortune to
marry them according to their Quality; and below it, he had rather see
them laid in their silent Graves, than consent to it: for he scorn'd the
World should see him forced by his Poverty to commit an Action below his
Dignity.
There lived in a neighbouring Town, a certain Nobleman, Friend to _De
Pais_, call'd Count _Vernole_, a Man of about forty years of Age, of low
Stature, Complexion very black and swarthy, lean, lame, extreme proud
and haughty; extracted of a Descent from the Blood-Royal; not extremely
brave, but very glorious: he had no very great Estate, but was in
Election of a greater, and of an Addition of Honour from the King, his
Father having done most worthy Services against the _Hugonots_, and by
the high Favour of Cardinal _Mazarine_, was represented to his Majesty,
as a Man related to the Crown, of great Name, but small Estate: so that
there were now nothing but great Expectations and Preparations in the
Family of Count _Vernole_ to go to the Court, to which he daily hoped an
Invitation or Command.
_Vernole's_ Fortune being hitherto something a-kin to that of _De Pais_,
there was a greater Correspondency between these two Gentlemen, than
they had with any other Persons; they accounting themselves above the
rest of the World, believed none so proper and fit for their
Conversation, as that of each other: so that there was a very particular
Intimacy between them. Whenever they went abroad, they clubb'd their
Train, to make one great Show; and were always together, bemoaning each
other's Fortune, and that from so high a Descent, as one from Monarchs
by the Mother's side, and the other from Dukes of the Father's Side,
they were reduc'd by Fate to the Degree of private Gentlemen. They would
often consult how to manage Affairs most to Advantage, and often _De
Pais_ would ask Counsel of _Vernole_, how best he should dispose of his
Daughters, which now were about their ninth Year the eldest, and eighth
the youngest. _Vernole_ had often seen those two Buds of Beauty, and
already saw opening in _Atlante's_ Face and Mind (for that was the Name
of the eldest, and _Charlot_ the youngest) a Glory of Wit and Beauty,
which could not but one Day display it self, with dazling Lustre, to the
wondring World.
_Vernole_ was a great Virtuoso, of a Humour nice, delicate, critical and
opinionative: he had nothing of the _French_ Mein in him, but all the
Gravity of the Don. His ill-favour'd Person, and his low Estate, put him
out of Humour with the World; and because that should not upbraid or
reproach his Follies and Defects, he was sure to be beforehand with
that, and to be always satirick upon it; and lov'd to live and act
contrary to the Custom and Usage of all Mankind besides.
He was infinitely delighted to find a Man of his own Humour in _De
Pais_, or at least a Man that would be persuaded to like his so well, to
live up to it; and it was no little Joy and Satisfaction to him to find,
that he kept his Daughters in that Severity, which was wholly agreeable
to him, and so contrary to the Manner and Fashion of the _French_
Quality; who allow all Freedoms, which to _Vernole's_ rigid Nature,
seem'd as so many Steps to Vice, and in his Opinion, the Ruiner of all
Virtue and Honour in Womankind. _De Pais_ was extremely glad his Conduct
was so well interpreted, which was no other in him than a proud
Frugality; who, because they could not appear in so much Gallantry as
their Quality required, kept 'em retir'd, and unseen to all, but his
particular Friends, of whom _Vernole_ was the chief.
_Vernole_ never appear'd before _Atlante_ (which was seldom) but he
assum'd a Gravity and Respect fit to have entertain'd a Maid of Twenty,
or rather a Matron of much greater Years and Judgment. His Discourses
were always of Matters of State or Philosophy; and sometimes when _De
Pais_ would (laughing) say, 'He might as well entertain _Atlante_ with
_Greek_ and _Hebrew_,' he would reply gravely, 'You are mistaken, Sir,
I find the Seeds of great and profound Matter in the Soul of this young
Maid, which ought to be nourish'd now while she is young, and they will
grow up to very great Perfection: I find _Atlante_ capable of the noble
Virtues of the Mind, and am infinitely mistaken in my Observations, and
Art of Physiognomy, if _Atlante_ be not born for greater Things than her
Fortune does now Promise: She will be very considerable in the World,
(believe me) and this will arrive to her perfectly from the Force of her
Charms.' _De Pais_ was extremely overjoy'd to hear such Good prophesied
of _Atlante_, and from that Time set a sort of an Esteem upon her, which
he did not on _Charlot_ his younger; whom, by the Persuasions of
_Vernole_, he resolv'd to put in a Monastery, that what he had might
descend to _Atlante_: not but he confess'd _Charlot_ had Beauty
extremely attractive, and a Wit that promised much, when it should be
cultivated by Years and Experience; and would shew it self with great
Advantage and Lustre in a Monastery. All this pleased _De Pais_ very
well, who was easily persuaded, since he had not a Fortune to marry her
well in the World.
As yet _Vernole_ had never spoke to _Atlante_ of Love, nor did his
Gravity think it Prudence to discover his Heart to so young a Maid; he
waited her more sensible Years, when he could hope to have some Return.
And all he expected from this her tender Age, was by his daily Converse
with her, and the Presents he made her suitable to her Years, to
ingratiate himself insensibly into her Friendship and Esteem, since she
was not yet capable of Love; but even in that he mistook his Aim, for
every day he grew more and more disagreeable to _Atlante_, and would
have been her absolute Aversion, had she known she had every Day
entertained a Lover; but as she grew in Years and Sense, he seemed the
more despicable in her Eyes as to his Person; yet as she had respect to
his Parts and Qualities, she paid him all the Complaisance she could,
and which was due to him, and so must be confess'd. Tho' he had a stiff
Formality in all he said and did, yet he had Wit and Learning, and was a
great Philosopher. As much of his Learning as _Atlante_ was capable of
attaining to, he made her Mistress of, and that was no small Portion;
for all his Discourse was fine and easily comprehended, his Notions of
Philosophy fit for Ladies; and he took greater Pains with _Atlante_,
than any Master would have done with a Scholar: So that it was most
certain, he added very great Accomplishment to her natural Wit: and the
more, because she took a great Delight in Philosophy; which very often
made her impatient of his Coming, especially when she had many Questions
to ask him concerning it, and she would often receive him with a
Pleasure in her Face, which he did not fail to interpret to his own
Advantage, being very apt to flatter himself. Her Sister _Charlot_ would
often ask her, 'How she could give whole Afternoons to so disagreeable a
Man. What is it (said she) that charms you so? his tawny Leather-Face,
his extraordinary high Nose, his wide Mouth and Eye-brows, that hang
low'ring over his Eyes, his lean Carcase, and his lame and halting
Hips?' But _Atlante_ would discreetly reply, 'If I must grant all you
say of Count _Vernole_ to be true, yet he has a Wit and Learning that
will atone sufficiently for all those Faults you mention: A fine Soul is
infinitely to be preferr'd to a fine Body; this decays, but that's
eternal; and Age that ruins one, refines the other.' Tho' possibly
_Atlante_ thought as ill of the Count as her Sister, yet in Respect to
him, she would not own it.
_Atlante_ was now arriv'd to her thirteenth Year, when her Beauty, which
every Day increas'd, became the Discourse of the whole Town, which had
already gain'd her as many Lovers as had beheld her; for none saw her
without languishing for her, or at least, but what were in very great
Admiration of her. Every body talk'd of the young _Atlante_, and all the
Noblemen, who had Sons (knowing the Smallness of her Fortune, and the
Lustre of her Beauty) would send them, for fear of their being charm'd
with her Beauty, either to some other part of the World, or exhorted
them, by way of Precaution, to keep out of her Sight. Old _Bellyaurd_
was one of those wise Parents; and timely Prevention, as he thought, of
_Rinaldo's_ falling in Love with _Atlante_, perhaps was the Occasion of
his being so: He had before heard of _Atlante_, and of her Beauty, yet
it had made no Impressions on his Heart; but his Father no sooner forbid
him Loving, than he felt a new Desire tormenting him, of seeing this
lovely and dangerous young Person: he wonders at his unaccountable Pain,
which daily sollicits him within, to go where he may behold this Beauty;
of whom he frames a thousand Ideas, all such as were most agreeable to
him; but then upbraids his Fancy for not forming her half so delicate as
she was; and longs yet more to see her, to know how near she approaches
to the Picture he has drawn of her in his Mind: and tho' he knew she
liv'd the next House to him, yet he knew also she was kept within like a
vow'd _Nun_, or with the Severity of a _Spaniard_. And tho' he had a
Chamber, which had a jutting Window, that look'd just upon the Door of
Monsieur _De Pais_, and that he would watch many Hours at a time, in
hope to see them go out, yet he could never get a Glimpse of her; yet he
heard she often frequented the Church of _our Lady_. Thither then young
_Rinaldo_ resolv'd to go, and did so two or three Mornings; in which
time, to his unspeakable Grief, he saw no Beauty appear that charm'd
him; and yet he fancy'd that _Atlante_ was there, and that he had seen
her; that some one of those young Ladies that he saw in the Church was
she, tho' he had no body to enquire of, and that she was not so fair as
the World reported; for which he would often sigh, as if he had lost
some great Expectation. However, he ceased not to frequent this Church,
and one day saw a young Beauty, who at first glimpse made his Heart leap
to his Mouth, and fall a trembling again into its wonted Place; for it
immediately told him, that that young Maid was _Atlante_: she was with
her Sister _Charlot_, who was very handsome, but not comparable to
_Atlante_. He fix'd his Eyes upon her as she kneel'd at the Altar; he
never moved from that charming Face as long as she remain'd there; he
forgot all Devotion, but what he paid to her; he ador'd her, he burnt
and languished already for her, and found he must possess _Atlante_ or
die. Often as he gaz'd upon her, he saw her fair Eyes lifted up towards
his, where they often met; which she perceiving, would cast hers down
into her Bosom, or on her Book, and blush as if she had done a Fault.
_Charlot_ perceiv'd all the Motions of _Rinaldo_, how he folded his
Arms, how he sigh'd and gaz'd on her Sister; she took notice of his
Clothes, his Garniture, and every particular of his Dress, as young
Girls use to do; and seeing him so very handsome, and so much better
dress'd than all the young Cavaliers that were in the Church, she was
very much pleas'd with him; and could not forbear saying, in a low
Voice, to _Atlante_, 'Look, look my Sister, what a pretty Monsieur
yonder is! see how fine his Face is, how delicate his Hair, how gallant
his Dress! and do but look how he gazes on you!' This would make
_Atlante_ blush anew, who durst not raise her Eyes for fear she should
encounter his. While he had the Pleasure to imagine they were talking of
him, and he saw in the pretty Face of _Charlot_, that what she said was
not to his Disadvantage, and by the Blushes of _Atlante_, that she was
not displeas'd with what was spoken to her; he perceiv'd the young one
importunate with her; and _Atlante_ jogging her with her Elbow, as much
as to say, Hold your Peace: all this he made a kind Interpretation of,
and was transported with Joy at the good Omens. He was willing to
flatter his new Flame, and to compliment his young Desire with a little
Hope; but the divine Ceremony ceasing, _Atlante_ left the Church, and it
being very fair Weather, she walk'd home. _Rinaldo_, who saw her going,
felt all the Agonies of a Lover, who parts with all that can make him
happy; and seeing only _Atlante_ attended with her Sister, and a Footman
following with their Books, he was a thousand times about to speak to
'em; but he no sooner advanc'd a step or two towards 'em to that purpose
(for he followed them) but his Heart fail'd, and a certain Awe and
Reverence, or rather the Fears and Tremblings of a Lover, prevented him:
but when he consider'd, that possibly he might never have so favourable
an Opportunity again, he resolv'd a-new, and called up so much Courage
to his Heart, as to speak to _Atlante_; but before he did so, _Charlot_
looking behind her, saw _Rinaldo_ very near to 'em, and cry'd out with a
Voice of Joy, 'Oh! Sister, Sister! look where the handsome _Monsieur_
is, just behind us! sure he is some-body of Quality, for see he has two
Footmen that follow him, in just such Liveries, and so rich as those of
our Neighbour _Monsieur Bellyaurd_.' At this _Atlante_ could not
forbear, but before she was aware of it, turn'd her Head, and look'd on
_Rinaldo_; which encourag'd him to advance, and putting off his Hat,
which he clapt under his Arm, with a low Bow, said, 'Ladies, you are
slenderly attended, and so many Accidents arrive to the Fair in the rude
Streets, that I humbly implore you will permit me, whose Duty it is as a
Neighbour, to wait on you to your Door.' 'Sir, (said _Atlante_ blushing)
we fear no Insolence, and need no Protector; or if we did, we should not
be so rude to take you out of your way, to serve us.' 'Madam, (said he)
my way lies yours. I live at the next Door, and am Son to _Bellyaurd_,
your Neighbour. But, Madam, (added he) if I were to go all my Life out
of the way, to do you Service, I should take it for the greatest
Happiness that could arrive to me; but, Madam, sure a Man can never be
out of his Way, who has the Honour of so charming Company.' _Atlante_
made no reply to this, but blush'd and bow'd: But _Charlot_ said, 'Nay,
Sir, if you are our Neighbour, we will give you leave to conduct us
home; but pray, Sir, how came you to know we are your Neighbours? for we
never saw you before, to our knowledge.' 'My pretty Miss, (reply'd
_Rinaldo_) I knew it from that transcendent Beauty that appear'd in your
Faces, and fine Shapes; for I have heard, there was no Beauty in the
World like that of _Atlante's_; and I no sooner saw her, but my Heart
told me it was she.' 'Heart! (said _Charlot_ laughing) why, do Hearts
use to speak?' 'The most intelligible of any thing, (_Rinaldo_ reply'd)
when 'tis tenderly touch'd, when 'tis charm'd and transported.' At these
Words he sigh'd, and _Atlante_, to his extreme Satisfaction, blush'd.
'Touch'd, charm'd, and transported, (said _Charlot_) what's that? And
how do you do to have it be all these things? For I would give any thing
in the World to have my Heart speak.' 'Oh! (said _Rinaldo_) your Heart
is too young, it is not yet arrived to the Years of Speaking; about
thirteen or fourteen, it may possibly be saying a thousand soft things
to you; but it must be first inspir'd by some noble Object, whose Idea
it must retain.' 'What (reply'd the pretty Prattler) I'll warrant I must
be in Love?' 'Yes, (said _Rinaldo_) most passionately, or you will have
but little Conversation with your Heart.' 'Oh! (reply'd she) I am afraid
the Pleasure of such a Conversation, will not make me amends for the
Pain that Love will give me.' 'That (said _Rinaldo_) is according as the
Object is kind, and as you hope; if he love, and you hope, you will have
double Pleasure: And in this, how great an Advantage have fair Ladies
above us Men! 'Tis always impossible for you to love in vain, you have
your Choice of a thousand Hearts, which you have subdu'd, and may not
only chuse your Slaves, but be assur'd of 'em; without speaking, you are
belov'd, it needs not cost you a Sigh or a Tear: But unhappy Man is
often destin'd to give his Heart, where it is not regarded, to sigh, to
weep, and languish, without any hope of Pity.' 'You speak so feelingly,
Sir, (said _Charlot_) that I am afraid this is your Case.' 'Yes, Madam,
(reply'd _Rinaldo_, sighing) I am that unhappy Man.' 'Indeed it is pity
(said she.) Pray, how long have you been so?' 'Ever since I heard of the
charming _Atlante_, (reply'd he, sighing again) I ador'd her Character;
but now I have seen her, I die for her.' 'For me, Sir! (said _Atlante_,
who had not yet spoke) this is the common Compliment of all the young
Men, who pretend to be Lovers; and if one should pity all those Sighers,
we should have but very little left for our selves.' 'I believe (said
_Rinaldo_) there are none that tell you so, who do not mean as they say:
Yet among all those Adorers, and those who say they will die for you,
you will find none will be so good as their Words but _Rinaldo_.'
'Perhaps (said _Atlante_) of all those who tell me of Dying, there are
none that tell me of it with so little Reason as _Rinaldo_, if that be
your Name, Sir.' 'Madam, it is, (said he) and who am transported with an
unspeakable Joy, to hear those last Words from your fair Mouth: and let
me, Oh lovely _Atlante!_ assure you, that what I have said, are not
Words of course, but proceed from a Heart that has vow'd it self
eternally yours, even before I had the Happiness to behold this divine
Person; but now that my Eyes have made good all my Heart before
imagin'd, and did but hope, I swear, I will die a thousand Deaths,
rather than violate what I have said to you; that I adore you; that my
Soul and all my Faculties, are charm'd with your Beauty and Innocence,
and that my Life and Fortune, not inconsiderable, shall be laid at your
Feet.' This he spoke with a Fervency of Passion, that left her no Doubt
of what he had said; yet she blush'd for Shame, and was a little angry
at her self, for suffering him to say so much to her, the very first
time she saw him, and accused her self for giving him any Encouragement:
And in this Confusion she replied, 'Sir, you have said too much to be
believ'd; and I cannot imagine so short an Acquaintance can make so
considerable an Impression; of which Confession I accuse my self much
more than you, in that I did not only hearken to what you said, without
forbidding you to entertain me at that rate, but for unheedily speaking
something, that has encourag'd this Boldness; for so I must call it, in
a Man so great a Stranger to me.' 'Madam (said he) if I have offended by
the Suddenness of my presumptuous Discovery, I beseech you to consider
my Reasons for it, the few Opportunities I am like to have, and the
Impossibility of waiting on you, both from the Severity of your Father
and mine; who, ere I saw you, warn'd me of my Fate, as if he foresaw I
should fall in love, as soon as I should chance to see you; and for that
Reason has kept me closer to my Studies, than hitherto I have been. And
from that time I began to feel a Flame, which was kindled by Report
alone, and the Description my Father gave of your wondrous and dangerous
Beauty: Therefore, Madam, I have not suddenly told you of my Passion.
I have been long your Lover, and have long languish'd without telling of
my Pain; and you ought to pardon it now, since it is done with all the
Respect and religious Awe, that 'tis possible for a Heart to deliver and
unload it self in; therefore, Madam, if you have by chance uttered any
thing, that I have taken Advantage or Hope from, I assure you 'tis so
small, that you have no reason to repent it; but rather, if you would
have me live, send me not from you, without a Confirmation of that
little Hope. See, Madam, (said he, more earnestly and trembling) see we
are almost arriv'd at our Homes, send me not to mine in a Despair that I
cannot support with Life; but tell me, I shall be bless'd with your
Sight, sometimes in your Balcony, which is very near to a jetting Window
in our House, from whence I have sent many a longing Look towards yours,
in hope to have seen my Soul's Tormentor.' 'I shall be very unwilling
(said she) to enter into an Intrigue of Love or Friendship with a Man,
whose Parents will be averse to my Happiness, and possibly mine as
refractory, tho' they cannot but know such an Alliance would be very
considerable, my Fortune not being suitable to yours: I tell you this,
that you may withdraw in time from an Engagement, in which I find there
will be a great many Obstacles.' 'Oh! Madam, (reply'd _Rinaldo_,
sighing) if my Person be not disagreeable to you, you will have no
occasion to fear the rest; 'tis that I dread, and that which is all my
Fear.' He, sighing, beheld her with a languishing Look, that told her,
he expected her Answer; when she reply'd, 'Sir, if that will be
Satisfaction enough for you at this time, I do assure you, I have no
Aversion for your Person, in which I find more to be valu'd, than in any
I have yet seen; and if what you say be real, and proceed from a Heart
truly affected, I find, in spite of me, you will oblige me to give you
Hope.'
They were come so near their own Houses, that he had not time to return
her any Answer; but with a low Bow he acknowledg'd her Bounty, and
express'd the Joy her last Words had given him, by a Look that made her
understand he was charm'd and pleas'd; and she bowing to him with an Air
of Satisfaction in her Face, he was well assur'd, there was nothing to
be seen so lovely as she then appear'd, and left her to go into her own
House: but till she was out of sight, he had not power to stir, and then
sighing, retired to his own Apartment, to think over all that had past
between them. He found nothing but what gave him a thousand Joys, in all
she had said; and he blest this happy Day, and wondred how his Stars
came so kind, to make him in one hour at once see _Atlante_, and have
the happiness to know from her Mouth, that he was not disagreeable to
her: Yet with this Satisfaction, he had a thousand Thoughts mix'd which
were tormenting, and those were the Fear of their Parents; he foresaw
from what his Father had said to him already, that it would be difficult
to draw him to a Consent of his Marriage with _Atlante_. These Joys and
Fears were his Companions all the Night, in which he took but little
Rest. Nor was _Atlante_ without her Inquietudes: She found _Rinaldo_
more in her Thoughts than she wish'd, and a sudden Change of Humour,
that made her know something was the matter with her more than usual;
she calls to mind _Rinaldo's_ speaking of the Conversation with his
Heart, and found hers would be tattling to her, if she would give way to
it; and yet the more she strove to avoid it, the more it importun'd her,
and in spight of all her Resistance, would tell her, that _Rinaldo_ had
a thousand Charms: It tells her, that he loves and adores her, and that
she would be the most cruel of her Sex, should she not be sensible of
his Passion. She finds a thousand Graces in his Person and Conversation,
and as many Advantages in his Fortune, which was one of the most
considerable in all those Parts; for his Estate exceeded that of the
most Noble Men in _Orleans_, and she imagines she should be the most
fortunate of all Womankind in such a Match. With these Thoughts she
employ'd all the Hours of the Night; so that she lay so long in Bed the
next Day, that Count _Vernole_, who had invited himself to Dinner, came
before she had quitted her Chamber, and she was forc'd to say, she had
not been well. He had brought her a very fine Book, newly come out, of
delicate Philosophy, fit for the Study of Ladies. But he appear'd so
disagreeable to that Heart, wholly taken up with a new and fine Object,
that she could now hardly pay him that Civility she was wont to do;
while on the other side that little State and Pride _Atlante_ assum'd,
made her appear the more charming to him: so that if _Atlante_ had no
mind to begin a new Lesson of Philosophy, while she fancied her Thoughts
were much better employ'd, the Count every moment expressing his
Tenderness and Passion, had as little an Inclination to instruct her, as
she had to be instructed: Love had taught her a new Lesson, and he would
fain teach her a new Lesson of Love, but fears it will be a diminishing
his Gravity and Grandeur, to open the Secrets of his Heart to so young a
Maid; he therefore thinks it more agreeable to his Quality and Years,
being about Forty, to use her Father's Authority in this Affair, and
that it was sufficient for him to declare himself to Monsieur _De Pais_,
who he knew would be proud of the Honour he did him. Some time past,
before he could be persuaded even to declare himself to her Father: he
fancies the little Coldness and Pride he saw in _Atlante's_ Face, which
was not usual, proceeded from some Discovery of Passion, which his Eyes
had made, or now and then a Sigh, that unawares broke forth; and accuses
himself of a Levity below his Quality, and the Dignity of his Wit and
Gravity; and therefore assumes a more rigid and formal Behaviour than he
was wont, which rendred him yet more disagreeable than before; and 'twas
with greater Pain than ever, she gave him that Respect which was due to
his Quality.
_Rinaldo_, after a restless Night, was up very early in the Morning; and
tho' he was not certain of seeing his adorable _Atlante_, he dress'd
himself with all that Care, as if he had been to have waited on her, and
got himself into the Window, that overlook'd Monsieur _De Pais's_
Balcony, where he had not remain'd long, before he saw the pretty
_Charlot_ come into it, not with any design of seeing _Rinaldo_, but to
look and gaze about her a little. _Rinaldo_ saw her, and made her a very
low Reverence, and found some disorder'd Joy on the sight of even
_Charlot_, since she was Sister to _Atlante_. He call'd to her, (for the
Window was so near her, he could easily be heard by her) and told her,
'He was infinitely indebted to her Bounty, for giving him an Opportunity
yesterday of falling on that Discourse, which had made him the happiest
Man in the World': He said, 'If she had not by her agreeable
Conversation encourag'd him, and drawn him from one Word to another, he
should never have had the Confidence to have told _Atlante_, how much he
ador'd her.' 'I am very glad, (replyed _Charlot_) that I was the
Occasion of the Beginning of an Amour, which was displeasing to neither
one nor the other; for I assure you for your Comfort, my Sister nothing
but thinks on you: We lie together, and you have taught her already to
sigh so, that I could not sleep for her.' At this his Face was cover'd
over with a rising Joy, which his Heart could not contain: And after
some Discourse, in which this innocent Girl discovered more than
_Atlante_ wish'd she should, he besought her to become his Advocate; and
since she had no Brother, to give him leave to assume that Honour, and
call her Sister. Thus, by degrees, he flatter'd her into a Consent of
carrying a Letter from him to _Atlante_; which she, who believ'd all as
innocent as her self, and being not forbid to do so, immediately
consented to; when he took his Pen and Ink, that stood in the Window,
with Paper, and wrote _Atlante_ this following Letter:
_RINALDO_ to _ATLANTE_.
_If my Fate be so severe, as to deny me the Happiness of sighing out
my Pain and Passion daily at your Feet, if there be any Faith in the
Hope you were pleased to give me (as 'twere a Sin to doubt) Oh
charming +Atlante+! suffer me not to languish, both without
beholding you, and without the Blessing of now and then a Billet, in
answer to those that shall daily assure you of my eternal Faith and
Vows; 'tis all I ask, till Fortune, and our Affairs, shall allow me
the unspeakable Satisfaction of claiming you: yet if your Charity
can sometimes afford me a sight of you, either from your Balcony in
the Evening, or at a Church in the Morning, it would save me from
that Despair and Torment, which must possess a Heart so unassur'd,
as that of_
Your Eternal Adorer,
_Rin. Bellyaurd_.
He having writ and seal'd this, toss'd it into the Balcony to _Charlot_,
having first look'd about to see if none perceiv'd them. She put it in
her Bosom, and ran in to her Sister, whom by chance she found alone;
_Vernole_ having taken _De Pais_ into the Garden, to discourse him
concerning the sending _Charlot_ to the Monastery, which Work he desir'd
to see perform'd, before he declar'd his Intentions to _Atlante_: for
among all his other good Qualities, he was very avaricious; and as fair
as _Atlante_ was, he thought she would be much fairer with the Addition
of _Charlot's_ Portion. This Affair of his with Monsieur _De Pais_, gave
_Charlot_ an opportunity of delivering her Letter to her Sister; who no
sooner drew it from her Bosom, but _Atlante's_ Face was covered over
with Blushes: For she imagin'd from whence it came, and had a secret Joy
in that Imagination, tho' she thought she must put on the Severity and
Niceness of a Virgin, who would not be thought to have surrendered her
Heart with so small an Assault, and the first too. So she demanded from
whence _Charlot_ had that Letter? Who replyed with Joy, 'From the fine
young Gentleman, our Neighbour.' At which _Atlante_ assum'd all the
Gravity she could, to chide her Sister; who replied, 'Well, Sister, had
you this day seen him, you would not have been angry to have receiv'd a
Letter from him; he look'd so handsome, and was so richly dress'd, ten
times finer than he was yesterday; and I promis'd him you should read
it: therefore, pray let me keep my Word with him; and not only so, but
carry him an Answer.' 'Well (said _Atlante_) to save your Credit with
Monsieur _Rinaldo_, I will read it': Which she did, and finish'd with a
Sigh. While she was reading, _Charlot_ ran into the Garden, to see if
they were not likely to be surpriz'd; and finding the Count and her
Father set in an Arbour, in deep Discourse, she brought Pen, Ink, and
Paper to her Sister, and told her, she might write without the Fear of
being disturbed: and urged her so long to what was enough her
Inclination, that she at last obtained this Answer:
_ATLANTE_ to _RINALDO_.
_+Charlot+, your little importunate Advocate, has at last subdued me
to a Consent of returning you This. She has put me on an Affair with
which I am wholly unacquainted; and you ought to take this very
kindly from me, since it is the very first time I ever writ to one
of your Sex, tho' perhaps I might with less Danger have done it to
any other Man. I tremble while I write, since I dread a
Correspondence of this Nature, which may insensibly draw us into an
Inconvenience, and engage me beyond the Limits of that Nicety I
ought to preserve: For this Way we venture to say a thousand little
kind Things, which in Conversation we dare not do: for now none can
see us blush. I am sensible I shall this Way put my self too soon
into your Power; and tho' you have abundance of Merit, I ought to be
asham'd of confessing, I am but too sensible of it:--But hold--I
shall discover for your Repose (which I would preserve) too much of
the Heart of_
Atlante.
She gave this Letter to _Charlot_; who immediately ran into the Balcony
with it, where she still found _Rinaldo_ in a melancholy Posture,
leaning his Head on his Hand: She shewed him the Letter, but was afraid
to toss it to him, for fear it might fall to the Ground; so he ran and
fetched a long Cane, which he cleft at one End, and held it while she
put the Letter into the Cleft, and staid not to hear what he said to it.
But never was Man so transported with Joy, as he was at the reading of
this Letter; it gives him new Wounds; for to the Generous, nothing
obliges Love so much as Love: tho' it is now too much the Nature of that
inconstant Sex, to cease to love as soon as they are sure of the
Conquest. But it was far different with our Cavalier; he was the more
inflamed, by imagining he had made some Impressions on the Heart of
_Atlante_, and kindled some Sparks there, that in time might increase to
something more; so that he now resolves to die hers: and considering all
the Obstacles that may possibly hinder his Happiness, he found none but
his Father's Obstinacy, perhaps occasioned by the Meanness of
_Atlante's_ Fortune. To this he urged again, that he was his only Son,
and a Son whom he loved equal to his own Life; and that certainly, as
soon as he should behold him dying for _Atlante_, which if he were
forc'd to quit her he must be, he then believed the Tenderness of so
fond a Parent would break forth into Pity, and plead within for his
Consent. These were the Thoughts that flatter'd this young Lover all the
Day; and whether he were riding the Great Horse, or at his Study of
Philosophy, or Mathematicks, Singing, Dancing, or whatsoever other
Exercise his Tutors ordered, his Thoughts were continually on _Atlante_.
And now he profited no more, whatever he seem'd to do: every Day he
fail'd not to write to her by the Hand of the kind _Charlot_; who, young
as she was, had conceiv'd a great Friendship for _Rinaldo_, and fail'd
not to fetch her Letters, and bring him Answers, such as he wish'd to
receive. But all this did not satisfy our impatient Lover; Absence
kill'd, and he was no longer able to support himself, without a sight of
this adorable Maid; he therefore implores, she will give him that
Satisfaction: And she at last grants it, with a better Will than he
imagin'd. The next Day was the appointed Time, when she would, under
Pretence of going to Church, give him an Assignation: And because all
publick Places were dangerous, and might make a great Noise, and they
had no private Place to trust to, _Rinaldo_, under Pretence of going up
the River in his Pleasure-Boat, which he often did, sent to have it made
ready by the next Day at Ten of the Clock. This was accordingly done,
and he gave _Atlante_ Notice of his Design of going an Hour or two on
the River in his Boat, which lay near to such a Place, not far from the
Church. She and _Charlot_ came thither: and because they durst not come
out without a Footman or two, they taking one, sent him with a
_How-do-ye_ to some young Ladies, and told him, he should find them at
Church: So getting rid of their Spy, they hastened to the River-side,
and found a Boat and _Rinaldo_, waiting to carry them on board his
little Vessel, which was richly adorn'd, and a very handsome Collation
ready for them, of cold Meats, Sallads and Sweetmeats.
As soon as they were come into the Pleasure-Boat, unseen of any, he
kneel'd at the Feet of _Atlante_, and there utter'd so many passionate
and tender Things to her, with a Voice so trembling and soft, with Eyes
so languishing, and a Fervency and a Fire so sincere, that her young
Heart, wholly uncapable of Artifice, could no longer resist such
Language, and such Looks of Love; she grows tender, and he perceives it
in her fine Eyes, who could not dissemble; he reads her Heart in her
Looks, and found it yielding apace; and therefore assaults it anew, with
fresh Forces of Sighs and Tears: He implores she would assure him of her
Heart, which she could no other way do, than by yielding to marry him:
He would carry her to the next Village, there consummate that Happiness,
without which he was able to live no longer; for he had a thousand
Fears, that some other Lover was, or would suddenly be provided for her;
and therefore he would make sure of her while he had this Opportunity:
and to that End, he answer'd all the Objections she could make to the
contrary. But ever, when he named Marriage, she trembled, with fear of
doing something that she fancy'd she ought not to do without the Consent
of her Father. She was sensible of the Advantage, but had been so us'd
to a strict Obedience, that she could not without Horror think of
violating it; and therefore besought him, as he valued her Repose, not
to urge her to that: And told him further, That if he fear'd any Rival,
she would give him what other Assurance and Satisfaction he pleas'd, but
that of Marriage; which she could not consent to, till she knew such an
Alliance would not be fatal to him: for she fear'd, as passionately as
he lov'd her, when he should find she had occasion'd him the Loss of his
Fortune, or his Father's Affection, he would grow to hate her. Tho' he
answer'd to this all that a fond Lover could urge, yet she was resolv'd,
and he forc'd to content himself with obliging her by his Prayers and
Protestations, his Sighs and Tears, to a Contract, which they solemnly
made each other, vowing on either Side, they would never marry any
other. This being solemnly concluded, he assum'd a Look more gay and
contented than before: He presented her a very rich Ring, which she
durst not put on her Finger, but hid it in her Bosom. And beholding each
other now as Man and Wife, she suffer'd him all the decent Freedoms he
could wish to take; so that the Hours of this Voyage seem'd the most
soft and charming of his Life: and doubtless they were so; every Touch
of _Atlante_ transported him, every Look pierced his Soul, and he was
all Raptures of Joy, when he consider'd this charming lovely Maid was
his own.
_Charlot_ all this while was gazing above-deck, admiring the Motion of
the little Vessel, and how easily the Wind and Tide bore her up the
River. She had never been in any thing of this kind before, and was very
well pleas'd and entertain'd, when _Rinaldo_ call'd her down to eat;
where they enjoy'd themselves, as well as was possible: and _Charlot_
was wondring to see such a Content in their Eyes.
But now they thought it was high time for them to return; they fancy the
Footman missing them at Church, would go home and alarm their Father,
and the Knight of the Ill-favour'd Countenance, as _Charlot_ call'd
Count _Vernole_, whose Severity put their Father on a greater
Restriction of them, than naturally he would do of himself. At the Name
of this Count, _Rinaldo_ chang'd Colour, fearing he might be some Rival;
and ask'd _Atlante_, if this _Vernole_ was a-kin to her? She answer'd
no; but was a very great Friend to her Father, and one who from their
Infancy had had a particular Concern for their Breeding, and was her
Master for Philosophy. 'Ah! (reply'd _Rinaldo_, sighing) this Man's
Concern must proceed from something more than Friendship for her
Father'; and therefore conjur'd her to tell him, whether he was not a
Lover: 'A Lover! (reply'd _Atlante_) I assure you, he is a perfect
Antidote against that Passion': And tho' she suffer'd his ugly Presence
now, she should loathe and hate him, should he but name Love to her.
She said, she believed she need not fear any such Persecution, since he
was a Man who was not at all amorous; that he had too much of the Satire
in his Humour, to harbour any Softness there: and Nature had form'd his
Body to his Mind, wholly unfit for Love. And that he might set his Heart
absolutely at rest, she assur'd him her Father had never yet propos'd
any Marriage to her, tho' many advantageous ones were offer'd him every
Day.
The Sails being turned to carry them back from whence they came; after
having discoursed of a thousand Things, and all of Love, and Contrivance
to carry on their mutual Design, they with Sighs parted; _Rinaldo_
staying behind in the Pleasure-Boat, and they going a-shore in the
Wherry that attended: after which he cast many an amorous and sad Look,
and perhaps was answer'd by those of _Atlante_.
It was past Church-time two or three Hours, when they arrived at home,
wholly unprepar'd with an Excuse, so absolutely was _Atlante's_ Soul
possest with softer Business. The first Person that they met was the
Footman, who open'd the Door, and began to cry out how long he had
waited in the Church, and how in vain; without giving them time to
reply. _De Pais_ came towards 'em, and with a frowning Look demanded
where they had been? _Atlante_, who was not accustom'd to Excuses and
Untruth, was a while at a stand; when _Charlot_ with a Voice of Joy
cry'd out, 'Oh Sir! we have been a-board of a fine little Ship': At this
_Atlante_ blush'd, fearing she would tell the Truth. But she proceeded
on, and said, that they had not been above a Quarter of an Hour at
Church, when the Lady ----, with some other Ladies and Cavaliers, were
going out of the Church, and that spying them, they would needs have 'em
go with 'em: My Sister, Sir, continu'd she, was very loth to go, for
fear you should be angry; but my Lady ---- was so importunate with her
on one side, and I on the other, because I never saw a little Ship in my
Life, that at last we prevail'd with her: therefore, good Sir, be not
angry. He promised them he was not. And when they came in, they found
Count _Vernole_, who had been inspiring _De Pais_ with Severity, and
counselled him to chide the young Ladies, for being too long absent,
under Pretence of going to their Devotion. Nor was it enough for him to
set the Father on, but himself with a Gravity, where Concern and Malice
were both apparent, reproached _Atlante_ with Levity; and told her, He
believed she had some other Motive than the Invitation of a Lady, to go
on Ship-board; and that she had too many Lovers, not to make them doubt
that this was a design'd thing; and that she had heard Love from some
one, for whom it was design'd. To this she made but a short Reply, That
if it was so, she had no reason to conceal it, since she had Sense
enough to look after herself; and if any body had made love to her, he
might be assur'd, it was some one whose Quality and Merit deserved to be
heard: and with a Look of Scorn, she passed on to another Room, and left
him silently raging within with Jealousy: Which, if before she tormented
him, this Declaration increas'd it to a pitch not to be conceal'd. And
this Day he said so much to the Father, that he resolv'd forthwith to
send _Charlot_ to a Nunnery: and accordingly the next day he bid her
prepare to go. _Charlot_, who was not yet arrived to the Years of
Distinction, did not much regret it; and having no Trouble but leaving
her Sister, she prepared to go to a Nunnery, not many Streets from that
where she dwelt. The Lady Abbess was her Father's Kinswoman, and had
treated her very well, as often as she came to visit her: so that with
Satisfaction enough, she was condemned to a Monastick Life, and was now
going for her Probation-Year. _Atlante_ was troubled at her Departure,
because she had no body to bring and to carry Letters between _Rinaldo_
and she: however, she took her leave of her, and promis'd to come and
see her as often as she should be permitted to go abroad; for she fear'd
now some Constraint extraordinary would be put upon her: and so it
happened.
_Atlante's_ Chamber was that to which the Balcony belong'd; and tho' she
durst not appear there in the Daytime, she could in the Night, and that
way give her Lover as many Hours of Conversation as she pleased, without
being perceiv'd: But how to give _Rinaldo_ notice of this, she could not
tell; who not knowing _Charlot_ was gone to a Monastery, waited many
days at his Window to see her: at last, they neither of them knowing who
to trust with any Message, one day, when he was, as usual upon his
watch, he saw _Atlante_ step into the Balcony, who having a Letter, in
which she had put a piece of Lead, she tost it into his Window, whose
Casement was open, and run in again unperceived by any but himself. The
Paper contained only this:
_My Chamber is that which looks into the Balcony; from whence, tho'
I cannot converse with you in the Day, I can at Night, when I am
retired to go to bed: therefore be at your Window. +Farewel+._
There needed no more to make him a diligent Watcher: and accordingly she
was no sooner retired to her Chamber, but she would come into the
Balcony, where she fail'd not to see him attending at his Window. This
happy Contrivance was thus carry'd on for many Nights, where they
entertain'd one another with all the Endearment that two Hearts could
dictate, who were perfectly united and assur'd of each other; and this
pleasing Conversation would often last till Day appear'd, and forced
them to part.
But old _Bellyaurd_ perceiving his Son frequent that Chamber more than
usual, fancy'd something extraordinary must be the Cause of it; and one
night asking for his Son, his Valet told him, he was gone into the great
Chamber, so this was called: _Bellyaurd_ asked the Valet what he did
there; he told him he could not tell; for often he had lighted him
thither, and that his Master would take the Candle from him at the
Chamber-Door, and suffer him to go no farther. Tho' the old Gentleman
could not imagine what Affairs he could have alone every Night in that
Chamber, he had a Curiosity to see: and one unlucky Night, putting off
his Shoes, he came to the Door of the Chamber, which was open; he
enter'd softly, and saw the Candle set in the Chimney, and his Son at a
great open Bay-Window: he stopt awhile to wait when he would turn, but
finding him unmoveable, he advanced something farther, and at last heard
the soft Dialogue of Love between him and _Atlante_, whom he knew to be
she, by his often calling her by her Name in their Discourse. He heard
enough to confirm him how Matters went; and unseen as he came, he
returned, full of Indignation, and thought how to prevent so great an
Evil, as this Passion of his Son might produce: at first he thought to
round him severely in the Ear about it, and upbraid him for doing the
only thing he had thought fit to forbid him; but then he thought that
would but terrify him for awhile, and he would return again, where he
had so great an Inclination, if he were near her; he therefore resolves
to send him to _Paris_, that by Absence he might forget the young Beauty
that had charm'd his Youth. Therefore, without letting _Rinaldo_ know
the Reason, and without taking Notice that he knew any thing of his
Amour, he came to him one day, and told him, all the Masters he had for
the improving him in noble Sciences were very dull, or very remiss: and
that he resolved he should go for a Year or two to the Academy at
_Paris_. To this the Son made a thousand Evasions; but the Father was
positive, and not to be persuaded by all his Reasons: And finding he
should absolutely displease him if he refus'd to go, and not daring to
tell him the dear Cause of his Desire to remain at _Orleans_, he
therefore, with a breaking Heart, consents to go, nay, resolves it, tho'
it should be his Death. But alas! he considers that this Parting will
not only prove the greatest Torment upon Earth to him, but that
_Atlante_ will share in his Misfortunes also: This Thought gives him a
double Torment, and yet he finds no Way to evade it.
The Night that finished this fatal Day, he goes again to his wonted
Station, the Window; where he had not sighed very long, but he saw
_Atlante_ enter the Balcony: He was not able a great while to speak to
her, or to utter one Word. The Night was light enough to see him at the
wonted Place; and she admires at his Silence, and demands the Reason in
such obliging Terms as adds to his Grief; and he, with a deep Sigh,
reply'd, 'Urge me not, my fair _Atlante_, to speak, lest by obeying you
I give you more cause of Grief than my Silence is capable of doing': and
then sighing again, he held his peace, and gave her leave to ask the
Cause of these last Words. But when he made no Reply but by sighing, she
imagin'd it much worse than indeed it was; and with a trembling and
fainting Voice, she cried, 'Oh! _Rinaldo_, give me leave to divine that
cruel News you are so unwilling to tell me: It is so,' added she, 'you
are destin'd to some more fortunate Maid than _Atlante_.' At this Tears
stopped her Speech, and she could utter no more. 'No, my dearest Charmer
(reply'd _Rinaldo_, elevating his Voice) if that were all, you should
see with what Fortitude I would die, rather than obey any such Commands.
I am vow'd yours to the last Moment of my Life; and will be yours in
spite of all the Opposition in the World: that Cruelty I could evade,
but cannot this that threatens me.' 'Ah! (cried _Atlante_) let Fate do
her worst, so she still continue _Rinaldo_ mine, and keep that Faith he
hath sworn to me entire: What can she do beside, that can afflict me?'
'She can separate me (cried he) for some time from _Atlante_.' 'Oh!
(reply'd she) all Misfortunes fall so below that which I first imagin'd,
that methinks I do not resent this, as I should otherwise have done: but
I know, when I have a little more consider'd it, I shall even die with
the Grief of it; Absence being so great an Enemy to Love, and making us
soon forget the Object belov'd: This, tho' I never experienc'd, I have
heard, and fear it may be my Fate.' He then convinc'd her Fears with a
thousand new Vows, and a thousand Imprecations of Constancy. She then
asked him, 'If their Loves were discover'd, that he was with such haste
to depart?' He told her, 'Nothing of that was the Cause; and he could
almost wish it were discover'd, since he could resolutely then refuse to
go: but it was only to cultivate his Mind more effectually than he could
do here; 'twas the Care of his Father to accomplish him the more; and
therefore he could not contradict it. But (said he) I am not sent where
Seas shall part us, nor vast Distances of Earth, but to _Paris_, from
whence he might come in two Days to see her again; and that he would
expect from that Balcony, that had given him so many happy Moments, many
more when he should come to see her.' He besought her to send him away
with all the Satisfaction she could, which she could no otherwise do,
than by giving him new Assurances that she would never give away that
Right he had in her to any other Lover: She vows this with innumerable
Tears; and is almost angry with him for questioning her Faith. He tells
her he has but one Night more to stay, and his Grief would be
unspeakable, if he should not be able to take a better leave of her,
than at a Window; and that, if she would give him leave, he would by a
Rope or two, tied together, so as it may serve for Steps, ascend her
Balcony; he not having time to provide a Ladder of Ropes. She tells him
she has so great a Confidence in his Virtue and Love, that she will
refuse him nothing, tho' it would be a very bold Venture for a Maid, to
trust her self with a passionate young Man, in silence of Night: and
tho' she did not extort a Vow from him to secure her, she expected he
would have a care of her Honour. He swore to her, his Love was too
religious for so base an Attempt. There needed not many Vows to confirm
her Faith; and it was agreed on between them, that he should come the
next Night into her Chamber.
It happen'd that Night, as it often did, that Count _Vernole_ lay with
Monsieur _De Pais_, which was in a Ground-Room, just under that of
_Atlante's_. As soon as she knew all were in bed, she gave the word to
_Rinaldo_, who was attending with the Impatience of a passionate Lover
below, under the Window; and who no sooner heard the Balcony open, but
he ascended with some difficulty, and enter'd the Chamber, where he
found _Atlante_ trembling with Joy and Fear: He throws himself at her
Feet, as unable to speak as she; who nothing but blushed and bent down
her Eyes, hardly daring to glance them towards the dear Object of her
Desires, the Lord of all her Vows: She was asham'd to see a Man in her
Chamber, where yet none had ever been alone, and by Night too. He saw
her Fear, and felt her trembling; and after a thousand Sighs of Love had
made way for Speech, he besought her to fear nothing from him, for his
Flame was too sacred, and his Passion too holy to offer any thing but
what Honour with Love might afford him. At last he brought her to some
Courage, and the Roses of her fair Cheeks assum'd their wonted Colour,
not blushing too red, nor languishing too pale. But when the
Conversation began between them, it was the softest in the world: They
said all that parting Lovers could say; all that Wit and Tenderness
could express: They exchanged their Vows anew; and to confirm his, he
tied a Bracelet of Diamonds about her Arm, and she returned him one of
her Hair, which he had long begged, and she had on purpose made, which
clasped together with Diamonds; this she put about his Arm, and he swore
to carry it to his Grave. The Night was far spent in tender Vows, soft
Sighs and Tears on both sides, and it was high time to part: but, as if
Death had been to have arrived to them in that Minute, they both
linger'd away the time, like Lovers who had forgot themselves; and the
Day was near approaching when he bid farewel, which he repeated very
often: for still he was interrupted by some commanding Softness from
_Atlante_, and then lost all his Power of going; till she, more
courageous and careful of his Interest and her own Fame, forc'd him from
her: and it was happy she did, for he was no sooner got over the
Balcony, and she had flung him down his Rope, and shut the Door, but
_Vernole_, whom Love and Contrivance kept waking, fancy'd several times
he heard a Noise in _Atlante's_ Chamber. And whether in passing over the
Balcony, _Rinaldo_ made any Noise or not, or whether it were still his
jealous Fancy, he came up in his Night-Gown, with a Pistol in his Hand.
_Atlante_ was not so much lost in Grief, tho' she were all in Tears, but
she heard a Man come up, and imagin'd it had been her Father, she not
knowing of Count _Vernole's_ lying in the House that Night; if she had,
she possibly had taken more care to have been silent; but whoever it
was, she could not get to bed soon enough, and therefore turn'd her self
to her Dressing-Table, where a Candle stood, and where lay a Book open
of the Story of _Ariadne_ and _Theseus_. The Count turning the Latch,
enter'd halting into her Chamber in his Night-Gown clapped close about
him, which betray'd an ill-favour'd Shape, his Night-Cap on, without a
Perriwig, which discover'd all his lean wither'd Jaws, his pale Face,
and his Eyes staring: and made altogether so dreadful a Figure, that
_Atlante_, who no more dreamt of him than of a Devil, had possibly have
rather seen the last. She gave a great Shriek, which frighted _Vernole_;
so both stood for a while staring on each other, till both were
recollected: He told her the Care of her Honour had brought him thither;
and then rolling his small Eyes round the Chamber, to see if he could
discover any body, he proceeded, and cry'd, 'Madam, if I had no other
Motive than your being up at this time of Night, or rather of Day,
I could easily guess how you have been entertain'd.' 'What Insolence is
this (said she, all in a rage) when to cover your Boldness of
approaching my Chamber at this Hour, you would question how I have been
entertain'd! Either explain your self, or quit my Chamber; for I do not
use to see such terrible Objects here.' 'Possibly those you do see (said
the Count) are indeed more agreeable, but I am afraid have not that
Regard to your Honour as I have': And at that word he stepped to the
Balcony, open'd it, and look'd out; but seeing no body, he shut it to
again. This enraged _Atlante_ beyond all Patience; and snatching the
Pistol out of his Hand, she told him, He deserved to have it aimed at
his Head, for having the Impudence to question her Honour, or her
Conduct; and commanded him to avoid her Chamber as he lov'd his Life,
which she believ'd he was fonder of than of her Honour. She speaking
this in a Tone wholly transported with Rage, and at the same time
holding the Pistol towards him, made him tremble with Fear; and he now
found, whether she were guilty or not, it was his turn to beg Pardon:
For you must know, however it came to pass that his Jealousy made him
come up in that fierce Posture, at other times _Vernole_ was the most
tame and passive Man in the World, and one who was afraid of his own
Shadow in the Night: He had a natural Aversion for Danger, and thought
it below a Man of Wit, or common Sense, to be guilty of that brutal
thing, called Courage or Fighting; His Philosophy told him, _It was safe
sleeping in a whole Skin_; and possibly he apprehended as much Danger
from this _Virago_, as ever he did from his own Sex. He therefore fell
on his Knees, and besought her to hold her fair Hand, and not to suffer
that, which was the greatest Mark of his Respect, to be the Cause of her
Hate or Indignation. The pitiful Faces he made, and the Signs of Mortal
Fear in him, had almost made her laugh, at least it allay'd her Anger;
and she bid him rise and play the fool hereafter somewhere else, and not
in her Presence; yet for once she would deign to give him this
Satisfaction, that she was got into a Book, which had many moving
Stories very well writ; and that she found her self so well entertain'd,
she had forgot how the Night passed. He most humbly thanked her for this
Satisfaction, and retired, perhaps not so well satisfied as he
pretended.
After this, he appear'd more submissive and respectful towards
_Atlante_; and she carry'd herself more reserv'd and haughty towards
him; which was one Reason, he would not yet discover his Passion.
Thus the Time run on at _Orleans_, while _Rinaldo_ found himself daily
languishing at _Paris_. He was indeed in the best Academy in the City,
amongst a Number of brave and noble Youths, where all things that could
accomplish them, were to be learn'd by those that had any Genius; but
_Rinaldo_ had other Thoughts, and other Business: his Time was wholly
past in the most solitary Parts of the Garden, by the melancholy
Fountains, and in the most gloomy Shades, where he could with most
Liberty breathe out his Passion and his Griefs. He was past the Tutorage
of a Boy; and his Masters could not upbraid him, but found he had some
secret Cause of Grief, which made him not mind those Exercises, which
were the Delight of the rest: so that nothing being able to divert his
Melancholy, which daily increased upon him, he fear'd it would bring him
into a Fever, if he did not give himself the Satisfaction of seeing
_Atlante_. He had no sooner thought of this, but he was impatient to put
it in execution; he resolved to go (having very good Horses) without
acquainting any of his Servants with it. He got a very handsom and light
Ladder of Ropes made, which he carry'd under his Coat, and away he rid
for _Orleans_, stay'd at a little Village, till the Darkness of the
Night might favour his Design: And then walking about _Atlante's_
Lodgings, till he saw a Light in her Chamber, and then making that Noise
on his Sword, as was agreed between them, he was heard by his adorable
_Atlante_, and suffer'd to mount her Chamber, where he would stay till
almost break of Day, and then return to the Village, and take Horse, and
away for _Paris_ again. This, once in a Month, was his Exercise, without
which he could not live; so that his whole Year was past in riding
between _Orleans_ and _Paris_, between Excess of Grief, and Excess of
Joy by turns.
It was now that _Atlante_, arrived to her fifteenth Year, shone out with
a Lustre of Beauty greater than ever; and in this Year, in the Absence
of _Rinaldo_, had carry'd herself with that Severity of Life, without
the youthful Desire of going abroad, or desiring any Diversion, but what
she found in her own retired Thoughts, that _Vernole_, wholly unable
longer to conceal his Passion, resolv'd to make a Publication of it,
first to the Father, and then to the lovely Daughter, of whom he had
some Hope, because she had carry'd her self very well towards him for
this Year past; which she would never have done, if she had imagin'd he
would ever have been her Lover: She had seen no Signs of any such
Misfortune towards her in these many Years he had conversed with her,
and she had no Cause to fear him. When one Day her Father taking her
into the Garden, told her what Honour and Happiness was in store for
her; and that now the Glory of his fall'n Family would rise again, since
she had a Lover of an illustrious Blood, ally'd to Monarchs; and one
whose Fortune was newly encreased to a very considerable Degree,
answerable to his Birth. She changed Colour at this Discourse, imagining
but too well who this illustrious Lover was; when _De Pais_ proceeded
and told her, 'Indeed his Person was not the most agreeable that ever
was seen: but he marry'd her to Glory and Fortune, not the Man: And a
Woman (says he) ought to look no further.'
She needed not any more to inform her who this intended Husband was; and
therefore, bursting forth into Tears, she throws herself at his Feet,
imploring him not to use the Authority of a Father, to force her to a
thing so contrary to her Inclination: assuring him, she could not
consent to any such thing; and that she would rather die than yield. She
urged many Arguments for this her Disobedience; but none would pass for
current with the old Gentleman, whose Pride had flatter'd him with Hopes
of so considerable a Son-in-law: He was very much surpriz'd at
_Atlante's_ refusing what he believ'd she would receive with Joy; and
finding that no Arguments on his Side could draw hers to an obedient
Consent, he grew to such a Rage, as very rarely possest him: vowing, if
she did not conform her Will to his, he would abandon her to all the
Cruelty of Contempt and Poverty: so that at last she was forced to
return him this Answer, 'That she would strive all she could with her
Heart; but she verily believed she should never bring it to consent to a
Marriage with Monsieur the Count.' The Father continued threatning her,
and gave her some Days to consider of it: So leaving her in Tears, he
returned to his Chamber, to consider what Answer he should give Count
_Vernole_, who he knew would be impatient to learn what Success he had,
and what himself was to hope. _De Pais_, after some Consideration,
resolved to tell him, she receiv'd the Offer very well, but that he must
expect a little Maiden-Nicety in the Case: and accordingly did tell him
so; and he was not at all doubtful of his good Fortune.
But _Atlante_, who resolved to die a thousand Deaths rather than break
her solemn Vows to _Rinaldo_, or to marry the Count, cast about how she
should avoid it with the least Hazard of her Father's Rage. She found
_Rinaldo_ the better and more advantageous Match of the two, could they
but get his Father's Consent: He was beautiful and young; his Title was
equal to that of _Vernole_, when his Father should die; and his Estate
exceeded his: yet she dares not make a Discovery, for fear she should
injure her Lover; who at this Time, though she knew it not, lay sick of
a Fever, while she was wondering that he came not as he used to do.
However she resolves to send him a Letter, and acquaint him with the
Misfortune; which she did in these Terms:
_ATLANTE_ to _RINALDO_.
_My Father's Authority would force me to violate my sacred Vows to
you, and give them to the Count +Vernole+, whom I mortally hate, yet
could wish him the greatest Monarch in the World, that I might shew
you I could even then despise him for your Sake. My Father is
already too much enraged by my Denial, to hear Reason from me, if I
should confess to him my Vows to you: So that I see nothing but a
Prospect of Death before me; for assure your self, my +Rinaldo+,
I will die rather than consent to marry any other: Therefore come my
+Rinaldo+, and come quickly, to see my Funerals, instead of those
Nuptials they vainly expect from_
Your Faithful
_ATLANTE_.
This Letter _Rinaldo_ receiv'd; and there needed no more to make him fly
to _Orleans_: This raised him soon from his Bed of Sickness, and getting
immediately to horse, he arrived at his Father's House; who did not so
much admire to see him, because he heard he was sick of a Fever, and
gave him leave to return, if he pleas'd: He went directly to his
Father's House, because he knew somewhat of the Business, he was
resolv'd to make his Passion known, as soon as he had seen _Atlante_,
from whom he was to take all his Measures: He therefore fail'd not, when
all were in Bed, to rise and go from his Chamber into the Street; where
finding a Light in _Atlante's_ Chamber, for she every Night expected
him, he made the usual Sign, and she went into the Balcony; and he
having no Conveniency of mounting up into it, they discoursed, and said
all they had to say. From thence she tells him of the Count's Passion,
of her Father's Resolution, and that her own was rather to die his, than
live any Body's else: And at last, as their Refuge, they resolv'd to
discover the whole Matter; she to her Father, and he to his, to see what
Accommodation they could make; if not, to die together. They parted at
this Resolve, for she would permit him no longer to stay in the Street
after such a Sickness; so he went home to bed, but not to sleep.
The next Day, at Dinner, Monsieur _Bellyaurd_ believing his Son
absolutely cur'd, by Absence, of his Passion; and speaking of all the
News in the Town, among the rest, told him he was come in good time to
dance at the Wedding of Count _Vernole_ with _Atlante_, the Match being
agreed on: 'No, Sir (reply'd _Rinaldo_) I shall never dance at the
Marriage of Count _Vernole_ with _Atlante_; and you will see in Monsieur
_De Pais's_ House a Funeral sooner than a Wedding.' And thereupon he
told his Father all his Passion for that lovely Maid; and assur'd him,
if he would not see him laid in his Grave, he must consent to this
Match. _Bellyaurd_ rose in a Fury, and told him, 'He had rather see him
in his Grave, than in the Arms of _Atlante_: Not (continued he) so much
for any Dislike I have to the young Lady, or the Smallness of her
Fortune; but because I have so long warn'd you from such a Passion, and
have with such Care endeavour'd by your Absence to prevent it.' He
travers'd the Room very fast, still protesting against this Alliance:
and was deaf to all _Rinaldo_ could say. On the other side the Day being
come, wherein _Atlante_ was to give her final Answer to her Father
concerning her Marriage with Count _Vernole_; she assum'd all the
Courage and Resolution she could, to withstand the Storm that threatned
a Denial. And her Father came to her, and demanding her Answer, she told
him, 'She could not be the Wife of _Vernole_, since she was Wife to
_Rinaldo_, only son to _Bellyaurd_.' If her Father storm'd before, he
grew like a Man distracted at her Confession; and _Vernole_ hearing them
loud, ran to the Chamber to learn the Cause; where just as he enter'd he
found _De Pais's_ Sword drawn, and ready to kill his Daughter, who lay
all in Tears at his Feet. He with-held his Hand; and asking the Cause of
his Rage, he was told all that _Atlante_ had confess'd; which put
_Vernole_ quite beside all his Gravity, and made him discover the
Infirmity of Anger, which he used to say ought to be dissembled by all
wise Men: So that _De Pais_ forgot his own to appease his, but 'twas in
vain, for he went out of the House, vowing Revenge to _Rinaldo_: And to
that end, being not very well assur'd of his own Courage, as I said
before, and being of the Opinion, that no Man ought to expose his Life
to him who has injur'd him; he hired _Swiss_ and _Spanish_ Soldiers to
attend him in the nature of Footmen; and watch'd several Nights about
_Bellyaurd's_ Door, and that of _De Pais's_, believing he should some
time or other see him under the Window of _Atlante_, or perhaps mounting
into it: for now he no longer doubted, but this happy Lover was he, whom
he fancy'd he heard go from the Balcony that Night he came up with his
Pistol; and being more a _Spaniard_ than a _Frenchman_ in his Nature, he
resolv'd to take him any way unguarded or unarm'd, if he came in his
Way.
_Atlante_, who heard his Threatnings when he went from her in a Rage,
fear'd his Cowardice might put him on some base Action, to deprive
_Rinaldo_ of his Life; and therefore thought it not safe to suffer him
to come to her by Night, as he had before done; but sent him word in a
Note, that he should forbear her Window, for _Vernole_ had sworn his
Death. This Note came, unseen by his Father, to his Hands: but this
could not hinder him from coming to her Window, which he did as soon as
it was dark: he came thither, only attended with his Valet, and two
Footmen; for now he car'd not who knew the Secret. He had no sooner made
the Sign, but he found himself incompass'd with _Vernole's_ Bravoes; and
himself standing at a distance cry'd out, 'That is he': With that they
all drew on both sides, and _Rinaldo_ receiv'd a Wound in his Arm.
_Atlante_ heard this, and ran crying out, 'That _Rinaldo_, prest by
Numbers, would be kill'd.' _De Pais_, who was reading in his Closet,
took his Sword, and ran out; and, contrary to all Expectation, seeing
_Rinaldo_ fighting with his Back to the Door, pull'd him into the House,
and fought himself with the Bravoes: who being very much wounded by
_Rinaldo_, gave ground, and sheer'd off; and _De Pais_, putting up old
_Bilbo_ into the Scabbard, went into his House, where he found _Rinaldo_
almost fainting with loss of Blood, and _Atlante_, with her Maids
binding up his Wound; to whom _De Pais_ said, 'This charity, _Atlante_,
very well becomes you, and is what I can allow you; and I could wish you
had no other Motive for this Action.' _Rinaldo_ by degrees recover'd of
his Fainting, and as well as his Weakness would permit him, he got up
and made a low Reverence to _De Pais_, telling him, 'He had now a double
Obligation to pay him all the Respect in the World; first, for his being
the Father of _Atlante_; and secondly, for being the Preserver of his
Life: two Tyes that should eternally oblige him to love and honour him,
as his own Parent.' _De Pais_ reply'd, 'He had done nothing but what
common Humanity compell'd him to do: But if he would make good that
Respect he profess'd towards him, it must be in quitting all Hopes of
_Atlante_, whom he had destin'd to another, or an eternal Inclosure in a
Monastery: He had another Daughter, whom if he would think worthy of his
Regard, he should take his Alliance as a very great Honour; but his Word
and Reputation, nay his Vows were past, to give _Atlante_ to Count
_Vernole_.' _Rinaldo_, who before he spoke took measure from _Atlante's_
Eyes, which told him her Heart was his, return'd this Answer to _De
Pais_, 'That he was infinitely glad to find by the Generosity of his
Offer, that he had no Aversion against his being his Son-in-law; and
that, next to _Atlante_, the greatest Happiness he could wish would be
his receiving _Charlot_ from his Hand; but that he could not think of
quitting _Atlante_, how necessary soever it would be, for Glory, and
his--(the further) Repose.' _De Pais_ would not let him at this time
argue the matter further, seeing he was ill, and had need of looking
after; he therefore begg'd he would for his Health's sake retire to his
own House, whither he himself conducted him, and left him to the Care of
his Men, who were escap'd the Fray; and returning to his own Chamber, he
found _Atlante_ retir'd, and so he went to bed full of Thoughts. This
Night had increas'd his Esteem for _Rinaldo_, and lessen'd it for Count
_Vernole_; but his Word and Honour being past, he could not break it,
neither with Safety nor Honour: for he knew the haughty resenting Nature
of the Count, and he fear'd some Danger might arrive to the brave
_Rinaldo_, which troubled him very much. At last he resolv'd, that
neither might take any thing ill at his Hands, to lose _Atlante_, and
send her to the Monastery where her Sister was, and compel her to be a
Nun. This he thought would prevent Mischiefs on both sides; and
accordingly, the next Day, (having in the Morning sent Word to the Lady
Abbess what he would have done) he carries _Atlante_, under pretence of
visiting her Sister, (which they often did) to the Monastery, where she
was no sooner come, but she was led into the Inclosure: Her Father had
rather sacrifice her, than she should be the Cause of the Murder of two
such noble Men as _Vernole_ and _Rinaldo_.
The Noise of _Atlante's_ being inclos'd, was soon spread all over the
busy Town, and _Rinaldo_ was not the last to whom the News arriv'd: He
was for a few Days confin'd to his Chamber; where, when alone, he rav'd
like a Man distracted; But his Wounds had so incens'd his Father against
_Atlante_, that he swore he would see his Son die of them, rather than
suffer him to marry _Atlante_; and was extremely overjoy'd to find she
was condemn'd, for ever, to the Monastery. So that the Son thought it
the wisest Course, and most for the advantage of his Love, to say
nothing to contradict his Father; but being almost assur'd _Atlante_
would never consent to be shut up in a Cloyster, and abandon him, he
flatter'd himself with hope, that he should steal her from thence, and
marry her in spite of all Opposition. This he was impatient to put in
practice: He believ'd, if he were not permitted to see _Atlante_, he had
still a kind Advocate in _Charlot_, who was now arriv'd to her
Thirteenth Year, and infinitely advanc'd in Wit and Beauty. _Rinaldo_
therefore often goes to the Monastery, surrounding it, to see what
Possibility there was of accomplishing his Design; if he could get her
Consent, he finds it not impossible, and goes to visit _Charlot_; who
had command not to see him, or speak to him. This was a Cruelty he
look'd not for, and which gave him an unspeakable Trouble, and without
her Aid it was wholly impossible to give _Atlante_ any account of his
Design. In this Perplexity he remain'd many Days, in which he languish'd
almost to Death; he was distracted with Thought, and continually
hovering about the Nunnery-Walls, in hope, at some time or other, to see
or hear from that lovely Maid, who alone could make his Happiness. In
these Traverses he often met _Vernole_, who had Liberty to see her when
he pleas'd: If it happen'd that they chanc'd to meet in the Daytime,
tho' _Vernole_ was attended with an Equipage of Ruffians, and _Rinaldo_
but only with a couple of Footmen, he could perceive _Vernole_ shun him,
grow pale, and almost tremble with Fear sometimes, and get to the other
Side of the Street; and if he did not, _Rinaldo_ having a mortal Hate to
him, would often bear up so close to him, that he would jostle him
against the Wall, which _Vernole_ would patiently put up, and pass on;
so that he could never be provok'd to fight by Day-light, how solitary
soever the Place was where they met: but if they chanc'd to meet at
Night, they were certain of a Skirmish, in which he would have no part
himself; so that _Rinaldo_ was often like to be assassinated, but still
came off with some slight Wound. This continu'd so long, and made so
great a Noise in the Town, that the two old Gentlemen were mightily
alarm'd by it; and Count _Bellyaurd_ came to _De Pais_, one Day, to
discourse with him of this Affair; and _Bellyaurd_, for the Preservation
of his Son, was almost consenting, since there was no Remedy, that he
should marry _Atlante_. _De Pais_ confess'd the Honour he proffer'd him,
and how troubled he was, that his Word was already past to his Friend,
the Count _Vernole_, whom he said she should marry, or remain for ever a
Nun; but if _Rinaldo_ could displace his Love from _Atlante_, and place
it on _Charlot_, he should gladly consent to the Match. _Bellyaurd_, who
would now do anything for the Repose of his Son, tho' he believ'd this
Exchange would not pass, yet resolv'd to propose it, since by marrying
him he took him out of the Danger of _Vernole's_ Assassinates, who would
never leave him till they had dispatch'd him, should he marry _Atlante_.
While _Rinaldo_ was contriving a thousand ways to come to speak to, or
send Billets to _Atlante_, none of which could succeed without the Aid
of _Charlot_, his Father came and propos'd this Agreement between _De
Pais_ and himself, to his Son. At first _Rinaldo_ receiv'd it with a
chang'd Countenance, and a breaking Heart; but swiftly turning from
Thought to Thought, he conceiv'd this the only way to come at _Charlot_,
and so consequently at _Atlante_: he therefore, after some dissembled
Regret, consents, with a sad put-on Look: And _Charlot_ had Notice given
her to see and entertain _Rinaldo_. As yet they had not told her the
Reason; which her Father would tell her, when he came to visit her, he
said. _Rinaldo_ over-joy'd at this Contrivance, and his own
Dissimulation, goes to the Monastery, and visits _Charlot_; where he
ought to have said something of this Proposition: but wholly bent upon
other Thoughts, he sollicits her to convey some Letters, and Presents to
_Atlante_; which she readily did, to the unspeakable Joy of the poor
Distrest. Sometimes he would talk to _Charlot_ of her own Affairs;
asking her, if she resolv'd to become a Nun? To which she would sigh,
and say, If she must, it would be extremely against her Inclinations;
and, if it pleas'd her Father, she had rather begin the World with any
tolerable Match.
Things past thus for some Days, in which our Lovers were happy, and
_Vernole_ assur'd he should have _Atlante_. But at last _De Pais_ came
to visit _Charlot_, who ask'd her, if she had seen _Rinaldo_? She
answer'd, 'She had.' 'And how does he entertain you? (reply'd _De Pais_)
Have you receiv'd him as a Husband? and has he behav'd himself like
one?' At this a sudden Joy seiz'd the Heart of _Charlot_; and both to
confess what she had done for him to her Sister, she hung down her
blushing Face to study for an Answer. _De Pais_ continued, and told her
the Agreement between _Bellyaurd_ and him, for the saving of Bloodshed.
She, who blest the Cause, whatever it was, having always a great
Friendship and Tenderness for _Rinaldo_, gave her Father a thousand
Thanks for his Care; and assur'd him, since she was commanded by him,
she would receive him as her Husband.
And the next Day, when _Rinaldo_ came to visit her, as he us'd to do,
and bringing a Letter with him, wherein he propos'd the flight of
_Atlante_; he found a Coldness in _Charlot_, as soon as he told her his
Design, and desir'd her to carry the Letter. He ask'd the Reason of this
Change: She tells him she was inform'd of the Agreement between their
two Fathers, and that she look'd upon herself as his Wife, and would act
no more as a Confident; that she had ever a violent Inclination of
Friendship for him, which she would soon improve into something more
soft.
He could not deny the Agreement, nor his Promise; but it was in vain to
tell her, he did it only to get a Correspondence with _Atlante_: She is
obstinate, and he as pressing, with all the Tenderness of Persuasion: He
vows he can never be any but _Atlante's_, and she may see him die, but
never break his Vows. She urges her Claim in vain, so that at last she
was overcome, and promised she would carry the Letter; which was to have
her make her Escape that Night. He waits at the Gate for her Answer, and
_Charlot_ returns with one that pleased him very well; which was, that
Night her Sister would make her Escape, and that he must stand in such a
Place of the Nunnery-Wall, and she would come out to him.
After this she upbraids him with his false Promise to her, and of her
Goodness to serve him after such a Disappointment. He receives her
Reproaches with a thousand Sighs, and bemoans her Misfortune in not
being capable of more than Friendship for her; and vows, that next
_Atlante_, he esteems her of all Womankind. She seems to be obliged by
this, and assured him, she would hasten the Flight of _Atlante_; and
taking leave, he went home to order a Coach, and some Servants to assist
him.
In the mean time Count _Vernole_ came to visit _Atlante_; but she
refused to be seen by him: And all he could do there that Afternoon, was
entertaining _Charlot_ at the Grate; to whom he spoke a great many fine
Things, both of her improved Beauty and Wit; and how happy _Rinaldo_
would be in so fair a Bride. She received this with all the Civility
that was due to his Quality; and their Discourse being at an End, he
took his Leave, being towards the Evening.
_Rinaldo_, wholly impatient, came betimes to the Corner of the dead
Wall, where he was appointed to stand, having ordered his Footmen and
Coach to come to him as soon it was dark. While he was there walking up
and down, _Vernole_ came by the End of the Wall to go home; and looking
about, he saw, at the other End, _Rinaldo_ walking, whose Back was
towards him, but he knew him well; and tho' he feared and dreaded his
Business there, he durst not encounter him, they being both attended but
by one Footman a-piece. But _Vernole's_ Jealousy and Indignation were so
high, that he resolved to fetch his Bravoes to his Aid, and come and
assault him: For he knew he waited there for some Message from
_Atlante_.
In the mean Time it grew dark, and _Rinaldo_'s Coach came with another
Footman; which were hardly arrived, when _Vernole_, with his Assistants,
came to the Corner of the Wall, and skreening themselves a little behind
it, near to the Place where _Rinaldo_ stood, who waited now close to a
little Door, out of which the Gardeners used to throw the Weeds and
Dirt, _Vernole_ could perceive anon the Door to open, and a Woman come
out of it, calling _Rinaldo_ by his Name, who stept up to her, and
caught her in his Arms with Signs of infinite Joy. _Vernole_ being now
all Rage, cry'd to his Assassinates, 'Fall on, and kill the Ravisher':
And immediately they all fell on. _Rinaldo_, who had only his two
Footmen on his Side, was forc'd to let go the Lady; who would have run
into the Garden again, but the Door fell to and lock'd: so that while
_Rinaldo_ was fighting, and beaten back by the Bravoes, one of which he
laid dead at his Feet, _Vernole_ came to the frighted Lady, and taking
her by the Hand, cry'd, 'Come, my fair Fugitive, you must go along with
me.' She wholly scar'd out of her Senses, was willing to go any where
out of the Terror she heard so near her, and without Reply, gave her
self into his Hand, who carried her directly to her Father's House;
where she was no sooner come, but he told her Father all that had past,
and how she was running away with _Rinaldo_, but that his good Fortune
brought him just in the lucky Minute. Her Father turning to reproach
her, found by the Light of a Candle that this was _Charlot_, and not
_Atlante_, whom _Vernole_ had brought Home: At which _Vernole_ was
extremely astonish'd. Her Father demanded of her why she was running
away with a Man, who was design'd her by Consent? 'Yes, (said _Charlot_)
you had his Consent, Sir, and that of his Father; but I was far from
getting it: I found he resolv'd to die rather than quit _Atlante_; and
promising him my Assistance in his Amour, since he could never be mine,
he got me to carry a Letter to _Atlante_; which was, to desire her to
fly away with him. Instead of carrying her this Letter, I told her, he
was design'd for me, and had cancell'd all his Vows to her: She swoon'd
at this News; and being recover'd a little, I left her in the Hands of
the Nuns, to persuade her to live; which she resolves not to do without
_Rinaldo_. Tho' they press'd me, yet I resolv'd to pursue my Design,
which was to tell _Rinaldo_ she would obey his kind Summons. He waited
for her; but I put my self into his Hands in lieu of _Atlante_; and had
not the Count receiv'd me, we had been marry'd by this time, by some
false Light that could not have discover'd me: But I am satisfied, if I
had, he would never have liv'd with me longer than the Cheat had been
undiscover'd; for I find them both resolved to die, rather than change.
And for my part, Sir, I was not so much in Love with _Rinaldo_, as I was
out of love with the Nunnery; and took any Opportunity to quit a Life
absolutely contrary to my Humour.' She spoke this with a Gaiety so
brisk, and an Air so agreeable, that _Vernole_ found it touch'd his
Heart; and the rather because he found _Atlante_ would never be his; or
if she were, he should be still in Danger from the Resentment of
_Rinaldo_: he therefore bowing to _Charlot_, and taking her by the Hand,
cry'd, 'Madam, since Fortune has dispos'd you thus luckily for me, in my
Possession, I humbly implore you would consent she should make me
entirely happy, and give me the Prize for which I fought, and have
conquer'd with my Sword.' 'My Lord, (reply'd _Charlot_, with a modest
Air) I am superstitious enough to believe, since Fortune, so contrary to
all our Designs, has given me into your Hands, that she from the
beginning destin'd me to the Honour, which, with my Father's Consent,
I shall receive as becomes me.' _De Pais_ transported with Joy, to find
all Things would be so well brought about, it being all one to him,
whether _Charlot_ or _Atlante_ gave him Count _Vernole_ for his
Son-in-law, readily consented; and immediately a Priest was sent for,
and they were that Night marry'd. And it being now not above seven
o'Clock, many of their Friends were invited, the Musick sent for, and as
good a Supper as so short a Time would provide, was made ready.
All this was perform'd in as short a time as _Rinaldo_ was fighting; and
having kill'd one, and wounded the rest, they all fled before his
conquering Sword, which was never drawn with so good a Will. When he
came where his Coach stood, just against the Back-Garden-Door, he looked
for his Mistress: But the Coachman told him, he was no sooner engaged,
but a Man came, and with a thousand Reproaches on her Levity, bore her
off.
This made our young Lover rave; and he is satisfied she is in the Hands
of his Rival, and that he had been fighting, and shedding his Blood,
only to secure her Flight with him. He lost all Patience, and it was
with much ado his Servants persuaded him to return; telling him in their
Opinion, she was more likely to get out of the Hands of his Rival, and
come to him, than when she was in the Monastery.
He suffers himself to go into his Coach and be carry'd home; but he was
no sooner alighted, than he heard Musick and Noise at _De Pais's_ House.
He saw Coaches surround his Door, and Pages and Footmen, with Flambeaux.
The Sight and Noise of Joy made him ready to sink at the Door; and
sending his Footmen to learn the Cause of this Triumph, the Pages that
waited told him, That Count _Vernole_ was this Night married to Monsieur
_De Pais's_ Daughter. He needed no more to deprive him of all Sense; and
staggering against his Coach, he was caught by his Footmen and carried
into his House, and to his Chamber, where they put him to Bed, all
sensless as he was, and had much ado to recover him to Life. He ask'd
for his Father, with a faint Voice, for he desir'd to see him before he
died. It was told him he was gone to Count _Vernole's_ Wedding, where
there was a perfect Peace agreed on between them, and all their
Animosities laid aside. At this News _Rinaldo_ fainted again; and his
Servants call'd his Father home, and told him in what Condition they had
brought home their Master, recounting to him all that was past. He
hasten'd to _Rinaldo_, whom he found just recover'd of his Swooning;
who, putting his Hand out to his Father, all cold and trembling, cry'd,
'Well, Sir, now you are satisfied, since you have seen _Atlante_ married
to Count _Vernole_, I hope now you will give your unfortunate Son leave
to die; as you wish'd he should, rather than give him to the Arms of
_Atlante_.' Here his Speech fail'd, and he fell again into a Fit of
Swooning; His Father ready to die with fear of his Son's Death, kneel'd
down by his Bed-side; and after having recover'd a little, he said, 'My
dear Son, I have been indeed at the Wedding of Count _Vernole_, but 'tis
not _Atlante_ to whom he is married, but _Charlot_; who was the Person
you were bearing from the Monastery, instead of _Atlante_, who is still
reserv'd for you, and she is dying till she hear you are reserv'd for
her; Therefore, as you regard her Life, make much of your own, and make
your self fit to receive her; for her Father and I have agreed the
Marriage already.' And without giving him leave to think, he call'd to
one of his Gentlemen, and sent him to the Monastery, with this News to
_Atlante_. _Rinaldo_ bowed himself as low as he could in his Bed, and
kiss'd the Hand of his Father, with Tears of Joy: But his Weakness
continued all the next Day; and they were fain to bring _Atlante_ to
him, to confirm his Happiness.
It must only be guessed by Lovers, the perfect Joy these two receiv'd in
the sight of each other. _Bellyaurd_ received her as his Daughter; and
the next Day made her so, with very great Solemnity, at which were
_Vernole_ and _Charlot_: Between _Rinaldo_ and him was concluded a
perfect Peace, and all thought themselves happy in this double Union.
NOTES: The Lucky Mistake.
p. 351 This Dedication only appears in the first edition (12mo, 1689),
'for R. Bentley'. George Granville or Grenville,[1] Lord Lansdowne, the
celebrated wit, dramatist and poet, was born in 1667. Having zealously
offered in 1688 to defend James II, during the subsequent reign he
perforce 'lived in literary retirement'. He then wrote _The She
Gallants_ (1696, and 4to, 1696), an excellent comedy full of jest and
spirit. Offending, however, some ladies 'who set up for chastity' it
made its exit. Granville afterwards revived it as _Once a Lover and
Always a Lover_. _Heroick Love_, a tragedy (1698), had great success.
_The Jew of Venice_ (1701), is a piteously weak adaption of _The
Merchant of Venice_. A short masque, _Peleus and Thetis_ accompanies the
play. _The British Enchanters_, an opera (1706), is a pleasing piece,
and was very well received. At the accession of Queen Anne, Granville
entered the political arena and attained considerable offices of state.
Suspected of being an active Jacobite he was, under George I, imprisoned
from 25 September, 1715, till 8 February, 1717. In 1722 he went abroad,
and lived in Paris for ten years. In 1732 he returned and published a
finely printed edition of his complete _Works_ (2 Vols., 4to, 1732; and
again, 3 Vols., 1736, 12mo). He died 30 January, 1735, and is buried in
St. Clement Danes.
p. 398 _double Union_. In a collection of Novels with running title:
_The Deceived Lovers_ (1696), we find No. V _The Curtezan Deceived_, 'An
Addition to The Lucky Mistake, Written by Mrs. A. Behn.' This
introduction of Mrs. Behn's name was a mere bookseller's trick to catch
the unwary reader. _The Curtezan Deceived_ is of no value. It has
nothing to do with Aphra's work and is as commonplace a little novel as
an hundred others of its day.
[Footnote 1: The spelling 'Greenvil' 'Greenviel' is incorrect.]
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