loath to alarm them with any Noise, ’till they shou’d discover who it
was that made it, which they might easily do, in his advancing toward
them never so little, that part of the Bower being much lighter than
that where he had stood; but with his over-caution in sliding his Feet
along, to prevent being heard, one of them tangled in the Corner of the
Carpet, which happened not to lie very smooth, and not being sensible
presently what it was that Embarrass’d him: He fell with part of his
Body cross the Lady, and his Head in _Brione_’s Lap, who was sitting
on the Ground by her. The Manner of his Fall was lucky enough, for it
hinder’d either of them from rising, and running to alarm the Family,
as certainly in such a fright they wou’d have done, if his Weight had
not detain’d them; they both gave a great Shriek, but the House being
at a good distance, they cou’d not easily be heard; and he immediately
recovering himself, beg’d Pardon for the Terror he had occasion’d them;
and addressing to the Lady, who at first was dying with her Fears, and
now with Consternation: _D’elmont_, Madam, said he, cou’d not have had
the Assurance to appear before you, after hearing those undeserv’d
Praises your Excess of Goodness has been pleas’d to bestow upon him, but
that his Soul wou’d have reproach’d him of the highest Ingratitude, in
permitting you to continue longer in an Error, which may involve you in
the greatest of Misfortunes, at least I am----As he was speaking, three
or four Servants with Lights came running from the House; and the Lady,
tho’ in more Confusion than can be well exprest, had yet Presence of
Mind enough to bid the _Count_ retire to the place where he had stood
before, while she and _Brione_ went out of the Summer-house to learn
the Cause of this Interruption: Madam, cry’d one of the Servants,
as soon as he saw her, the Officers of Justice are within; who being
rais’d by an Alarm of Murther, come to beg your Ladyships Permission
to search your Garden, being, as they say, inform’d that the Offender
made his Escape over this Wall. ’Tis very improbable, reply’d the Lady,
for I have been here a considerable Time, and have neither heard the
least Noise, nor seen any Body: However they may search, and satisfy
themselves----go you, and tell them so. Then turning to the _Count_, when
she had dismiss’d her Servants; My Lord, said she Trembling, I know not
what strange Adventure brought you here to Night, or whether you are the
Person for whom the Search is made; but am sensible, if you are found
here, it will be equally injurious to your Safety, and my Reputation; I
have a Back-door, thro’ which you may pass in Security: But, if you have
Honour, (continu’d she) Sighing, Gratitude, or good Nature, you will let
me see you to morrow Night. Madam, (reply’d he,) assure your self that
there are not many things I more earnestly desire than an opportunity to
convince you, how sensibly I am touch’d with your Favours, and how much
I regret my want of Power to---you, (interrupted she,) can want nothing
but the _Will_ to make me the happiest of my Sex---but this is no Time
for you to _Give_, or me to _Receive_ any Proofs of that Return which I
expect----Once more I conjure you to be here to morrow Night at Twelve,
where the Faithful _Brione_ shall attend to admit you. Farewell---be
punctual and sincere--’Tis all I ask---when I am not, (answer’d he,) may
all my Hopes forsake me. By this time they were come to the Door, which
_Brione_, opening softly, let him out, and shut it again immediately.
The _Count_ took care to Remark the place that he might know it again,
resolving nothing more than to make good his Promise at the appointed
Hour, but cou’d not help being extreamly troubled, when he consider’d
how unwelcome his Sincerity wou’d be, and the Confusion he must give
the Lady, when instead of those Raptures the Violence of her mistaken
Passion made her hope, she shou’d meet with only cold Civility, and the
killing History of the Pre-engagement of his Heart. In these and the
like melancholly Reflections he spent the Night; and when Morning came,
receiv’d the severest Augmentation of them, which Fate cou’d load him
with.
It was scarce full Day when a Servant came into his Chamber to acquaint
him, that a young Gentleman, a Stranger, desir’d to be admitted, and
seem’d so impatient till he was, That, said the Fellow, not knowing of
what Consequence his Business may be, I thought it better to Risque your
Lordship’s Displeasure for this early Disturbance, than by dismissing
him, fill you with an unsatisfy’d Curiosity. The _Count_ was far from
being Angry, and commanded that the Gentleman should be brought up, which
Order being immediately obey’d, and the Servant withdrawn out of Respect:
Putting his Head out of the Bed, he was surpriz’d with the Appearance of
one of the most beautiful _Chevaliers_ he had ever beheld, and in whose
Face, he imagin’d he trac’d some Features not Unknown to him. Pardon,
me Sir, said he, throwing the Curtains more back than they were before,
that I receive the Honour you do me, in this manner---but being ignorant
of your Name, Quality, the Reason of your desire to see me, or any thing
but your Impatience to do so, in gratifying that, I fear, I have injur’d
the Respect, which I believe, is due, and which, I am sure, my Heart
is inclinable to pay to you. Visits, like mine, reply’d the Stranger,
require but little Ceremony, and I shall easily remit that Respect you
talk of, while I am unknown to you, provided you will give me one Mark of
it, that I shall ask of you, when you do. There are very few, reply’d
_D’elmont_, that I cou’d refuse to one, whose Aspect Promises to deserve
so many. First then, cry’d the other pretty warmly, I demand a Sister
of you, and not only her, but a Reparation of her Honour, which can be
done no otherwise than by your Blood. It is impossible to represent the
_Count_’s astonishment at these Words, but conscious of his Innocence
in any such Affair: I shou’d be sorry _Seignior_, said he cooly, that
Precipitation should hurry you to do any Action you wou’d afterwards
Repent; you must certainly be mistaken in the Person to whom you are
talking--Yet, if I were rash like you, what fatal Consequences might
ensue; but there is something in your Countenance which engages me to
wish a more friendly Interview than what you speak of: Therefore wou’d
persuade you to consider calmly, and you will soon find, and acknowledge
your Mistake; and, to further that Reflection, I assure you, that I am
so far from Conversing with any Lady, in the Manner you seem to hint,
that I scarcely know the Name, or Face of any one.---Nay, more, I give
you my Word, to which I joyn my Honour, that, as I never _have_, I never
_will_ make the least Pretensions of that kind to any Woman during the
Time of my Residence here. This poor Evasion, reply’d the Stranger
with a Countenance all inflam’d, ill suits a Man of Honour.---This is
no _Roman_, no, _Italian Bono-Roba_, who I mean----but _French_ like
you----like both of us.----And if your Ingratitude had not made it
necessary for your Peace, to erace all Memory of _Monsieur Frankville_,
you wou’d before now, by the near resemblance I bear to him, have known
me for his Son, and that ’tis _Melliora_’s---the fond---the lost---the
ruin’d _Melliora_’s Cause which calls for Vengeance from her Brother’s
Arm! Never was any Soul agitated with more violent Emotions, than that of
Count _D’elmont_ at these Words. Doubt, Grief, Resentment, and Amazement,
made such a Confusion in his Thoughts, that he was unable for some
Moments to answer this cruel Accusation; and when he did, the Brother
of _Melliora_ said he with a deep Sigh, wou’d certainly have been, next
to her self, the most welcome Person upon Earth to me; and my Joy to
have Embrac’d him as the dearest of my Friends, at least have equall’d
the Surprize I am in, to find him without Cause, my Enemy.---But, Sir,
if such a Favour may be granted to an unwilling Foe, I wou’d desire to
know, Why you joyn _Ruin_ to your Sisters Name? Oh! Give me Patience
Heaven, cry’d young _Frankville_ more enrag’d; is this a Question fit
for you to ask, or me to Answer? Is not her Honour Tainted---Fame
betray’d.---Her self a Vagabond, and her House abus’d, and all by you;
the unfaithful Guardian of her injur’d Innocence?---And can you ask the
Cause?----No, rather rise this Moment, and if you are a Man, who dare
maintain the ill you have done, defend it with your Sword; not with vain
Words and Womanish Excuses: All the other Passions which had warr’d
within _D’elmont_’s Breast, now gave way to Indignation: Rash young
Man, said he, jumping hastily out of the Bed, and beginning to put his
Cloaths on: Your Father wou’d not thus have us’d me; nor, did he Live,
cou’d blame me, for vindicating as I ought my wounded Honour----That I
do Love your Sister, is as True, as that you have wrong’d me---Basely
wrong’d me. But that her Virtue suffers by that Love, is false! And I
must write the Man that speaks it, _Lyar_, tho’ in her Brother’s Heart.
Many other violent Expressions to the same Effect, pass’d between them,
while the _Count_ was dressing himself, for he wou’d suffer no Servant to
come in, to be Witness of his Disorder. But the steady Resolution with
which he had attested his Innocence, and that inexpressible sweetness of
Deportment, equally Charming to both Sexes, and which, not even _Anger_
cou’d render less graceful, extreamly cool’d the Heat _Frankville_ had
been in a little before, and he in secret, began to recede very much
from the ill Opinion he had conceiv’d, tho’ the greatness of his Spirit
kept him from acknowledging he had been in an Error; ’till chancing to
cast his Eyes on a Table which stood in the Chamber, he saw the hilt of
the broken Sword which _D’elmont_ had brought home the Night before,
lying on it; he took it up, and having first look’d on it with some
Confusion in his Countenance. My Lord, said he, turning to the _Count_,
I conjure you, before we proceed further, to acquaint me truely, how
this came into your Possession, Tho’ _D’elmont_ had as great a Courage,
when any laudable Occasion appear’d to call it forth, as any Man that
ever liv’d, yet his natural Disposition had such an uncommon Sweetness
in it, as no Provocation cou’d sowre; it was always a much greater
Pleasure to him to _Forgive_ than _Punish_ Injuries; and if at any time
he was _Angry_, he was never _Rude_, or _Unjust_. The little starts of
Passion, _Frankville_’s rash Behaviour had occasion’d, all dissolv’d
in his more accustomary Softness, when he perceiv’d the other growing
Calm. And answering to his Question, with the most obliging Accent in
the World: It was my good Fortune, (said he) to be instrumental last
Night, in the Rescue of a Gentleman who appear’d to have much Bravery,
and being Attack’d by odds, behav’d himself in such a Manner, as wou’d
have made him stand but little in need of my Assistance, if his Sword
had been equal to the Arm which held it; but the breaking of that, gave
me the Glory of not being unserviceable to him. After the Skirmish was
over, I took it up, hoping it might be the means sometime or other of
my discovering who the Person was, who wore it; not out of Vanity of
receiving Thanks for the little I have done, but that I shou’d be glad of
the Friendship of a Person, who seems so worthy my Esteem. Oh far! (cry’d
_Frankville_, with a Tone and Gesture quite alter’d,) infinitely far from
it--It was my self whom you preserv’d; that very Man whose Life you but
last Night so generously redeem’d, with the hazard of your own, comes
now prepar’d to make the first use of it against you---Is it possible
that you can be so heavenly good to Pardon my wild Passions Heat? Let
this be witness, with what Joy I do, answer’d the _Count_, tenderly
Embracing him, which the other eagerly returning; they continu’d lock’d
in each others Arms for a considerable Time, neither of them being able
to say more, than---And was it _Frankville_ I Preserv’d!----And was it to
_D’elmont_ I owe my Life!
After this mutual Demonstration of a perfect Reconcilement was over: See
here, my Lord, said _Frankville_, giving a Paper to the _Count_, the
occasion of my Rashness, and let my just concern for a Sisters Honour,
be at least some little Mittigation of my Temerity, in accosting your
Lordship in so rude a Manner. _D’elmont_ made no Answer, but looking
hastily over the Paper found it contain’d these Words.
[Illustration]
To Monsieur FRANKVILLE.
_While your Sisters Dishonour was known but to few, and the
injurious Destroyer of it, out of the reach of your Revenge;
I thought it would ill become the Friendship I have always
profess’d to your Family, to disquiet you with the Knowledge of
a Misfortune, which it was no way in your Power to Redress._
_But Count D’elmont, having by the Solicitation of his Friends,
and the remembrance of some slight Services, obtain’d a Pardon
from the KING, for the Murder of his Wife; has since taken but
little care to conceal the Reasons which induc’d him to that
barbarous Action; and all PARIS is now sensible that he made
that unhappy Lady’s Life a Sacrifice to the more attractive
Beauties of MELLIORA, in bloody Recompence for the Sacrifice
she had before made him of her Virtue._
_In short, the Noble Family of the Frankvilles is for ever
dishonour’d by this Unfaithful GUARDIAN; and all who wish you
well, rejoice to hear that his ill Genius has led him to a
place which, if he knew you were at, certainly Prudence wou’d
make him of all others most avoid; for none believes you will
so far degenerate from the Spirit of your Ancestors, as to
permit him to go unpunish’d._
_In finding the COUNT, you may probably find your Sister too;
for tho’, after the Death of ALOVISA, shame made her retire to
a Monastry, she has since privately left it without acquainting
the ABBESS, or any of the Sisterhood, with her Departure; nor
is it known to any one, where, or for what Cause she absconds;
but most People imagine, as indeed it is highly reasonable,
that the Violence of her guilty Passion for D’ELMONT has
engag’d her to follow him._
_I am not unsensible how much I shock your Temper by this
Relation, but have too much real concern for your Honour, to
endure you shou’d, thro’ Ignorance of your Wrongs, remain
Passive in such a Cause, and perhaps hug the Treacherous Friend
in your most strict Embrace? Nor can I forbear, tho’ I love
not Blood, urging you to take that just Revenge, which next to
Heaven you have the greatest Claim to._
I am, Sir, with all due Respect,
Yours, _Sanseverin_.
The _Count_ swell’d with Indignation at every Paragraph of this malicious
Letter; but when he came to that, which mention’d _Melliora_’s having
withdrawn her self from the Monastry, he seem’d to be wholly abandon’d
by his Reason; all Endeavours to represent his Agonies wou’d be vain,
and none but those who have felt the same, can have any Notion of what
he suffer’d. He read the fatal Scroll again and again, and every time
grew wilder than before; he stamp’d, bit his Lips, look’d furiously
about him, then, starting from the place where he had stood, measur’d
the Room in strange, disorder’d, and unequal Paces; all his Motions,
all his Looks, all his Air were nothing but Distraction: He spoke not
for some time, one Word, either prevented by the rising Passions in
his Soul, or because it was not in the Power of Language to express
the greatness of his Meaning; and when, at last, he open’d his Mouth,
it was but to utter half Sentences, and broken Complainings: Is it
possible, he cry’d,----gone,---left the Monastry unknown---and then
again----false----false Woman?----Wretched----wretched Man! There’s no
such Thing on Earth as Faith---is this the Effect of all her tender
Passion?--So soon forgot---what can be her Reason?---This Action suits
not with her Words, or Letters. In this manner he rav’d with a Thousand
such like Breathings of a tormented Spirit, toss’d and confounded between
various Sentiments.
Monsieur _Frankville_ stood for a good while silently observing him; and
if before, he were not perfectly assur’d of his Innocence, the Agonies he
now saw him in, which were too natural to be suspected for Counterfeit,
entirely convinc’d him he was so. When the first gust of Passion was
blown over, and he perceiv’d any likelyhood of being heard, he said a
Thousand tender and obliging Things to perswade him to Moderation, but
to very little Effect, till finding, that that which gave him the most
stinging Reflection was, the Belief that _Melliora_ had forsook the
Monastry, either because she thought of him no more, and was willing to
divert her enfranchis’d Inclination with the Gaieties of the Town, or
that some happier Man had supplanted him in her Esteem. Judge not, my
Lord, (said he) so rashly of my Sister’s Fidelity, nor know so little of
your own unmatch’d Perfections, as to suspect that she, who is Blest with
your Affection, can consider any other Object as worthy her Regard; For
my part, since your Lordship _knows_, and I firmly _believe_, that this
Letter contains a great many Untruths, I see no Reason why we should not
imagine it all of a piece: I declare I think it much more improbable that
she should leave the Monastry, unless sollicited thereto by you, than
that she had the Power to deny you any thing your Passion might request.
The _Count_’s Disorder visibly abated at this Remonstrance; and stepping
hastily to his Cabinet, he took out the last Letter he receiv’d from
_Melliora_, and found it was dated but two Days before that from Monsieur
_Sanseverin_; he knew she had not Art, nor was accustom’d to endeavour
to disguise her Sentiments; and she had written so many tender things in
that, as when he gave himself leave to consider, he could not, without
believing her to be either the most Dissembling, or most fickle of her
Sex, continue in the Opinion which had made him, a few Moments before,
so uneasy, that she was no longer, what she always subscrib’d her self,
_Entirely His_.
The Tempest of Rage and Grief being hush’d to a little more Tranquillity,
Count _D’elmont_, to remove all Scruples which might be _yet_ remaining
in the Breast of Monsieur _Frankville_, entertain’d him with the whole
History of his Adventures, from the Time of his Gallantry with _Amena_,
to the Misfortunes which had induc’d him to Travel, disguising nothing
of the Truth, but some part of the Discourses which had pass’d between
him and _Melliora_ that Night when he surpriz’d her in her Bed, and in
the Wilderness: For tho’ he freely confess’d the Violence of his own
unbounded Passion, had hurry’d him beyond all Considerations but those of
gratifying it; yet he was too tender of _Melliora_’s Honour, to relate
anything of her, which her Modesty might not acknowledge, without the
Expence of a Blush.
_Frankville_ list’ned with abundance of Attention to the Relation he made
him, and could find very little in his Conduct to accuse: He was himself
too much susceptible of the Power of Love, not to have Compassion for
those that suffer’d by it, and had too great a share of good Sense not to
know that, that Passion is not to be Circumscrib’d; and being not only,
not _Subservient_, but absolutely _Controller_ of the _Will_, it would be
meer Madness, as well as ill Nature, to say a Person was Blame-worthy for
what was unavoidable.
When Love once becomes in our Power, it ceases to be worthy of that
Name; no Man really possest with it, _can_ be Master of his Actions;
and whatever Effects it may Enforce, are no more to be Condemn’d, than
Poverty, Sickness, Deformity, or any other Misfortune incident to Humane
Nature. Methinks there is nothing more absur’d than the Notions of some
People, who in other Things are wise enough too; but wanting Elegance of
Thought, Delicacy, or Tenderness of Soul, to receive the Impression of
that harmonious Passion, look on those to be mad, who have any Sentiments
elevated above their own, and either Censure, or Laugh, at what they are
not refin’d enough to comprehend. These _Insipids_, who know nothing of
the Matter, tell us very gravely, that we _ought_ to Love with Moderation
and Discretion,---and take Care that it is for our Interest,--that we
should never place our Affections, but where Duty leads, or at least,
where neither Religion, Reputation, or Law, may be a Hindrance to our
Wishes.---Wretches! We know all this, as well as they; we know too,
that we both do, and leave undone many other Things, which we ought
not; but Perfection is not to be expected on this side the Grave: And
since ’tis impossible for Humanity to avoid Frailties of some kind or
other, those are certainly least blamable, which spring only from a too
great Affluence of the nobler Spirits. _Covetousness_, _Envy_, _Pride_,
_Revenge_, are the Effects of an Earthly, Base, and Sordid Nature,
_Ambition_, and _Love_, of an Exalted one; and if they are Failings, they
are such as plead their own Excuse, and can never want Forgiveness from
a generous Heart, provided no indirect Courses are taken to procure the
Ends of the _former_, nor Inconstancy, or Ingratitude, stain the Beauty
of the _latter_.
Notwithstanding all that Monsieur _Frankville_ could say, the _Count_,
tho’ not in the Rage of Temper he had been in, was yet very melancholly;
which the other perceiving, Alas, my Lord, said he Sighing, if you were
sensible of the Misfortunes of others, you would think your own more
easy to be born: You Love, and are Belov’d; no Obstacle remains between
you and your Desires; but the Formality of Custom, which a little time
will Remove, and at your return to _Paris_ you will doubtless be happy,
if ’tis in my Sister’s Power to make you so: You have a sure Prospect of
Felicity to _come_, but mine is _past_, never, I fear, to be retriev’d.
What mean you? Cry’d the _Count_ pretty much surpriz’d at his Words,
and the Change which he observ’d in his Countenance; I am in Love!
Reply’d He, Belov’d! Nay, have Enjoy’d----Ay, there’s the Source of my
Despair----I know the Heaven I have lost, and that’s my Hell.----The
Interest _D’elmont_ had in his Concerns, as being Son to the Man whom he
had loved with a kind of filial Affection, and Brother to the Woman whom
he ador’d above the World, made him extreamly desirous to know what the
Occasion of his Disquiet was, and having exprest himself to that purpose;
I shall make no Difficulty, reply’d _Frankville_, to reveal the Secret
of my Love, to him who is a Lover, and knows so well, how to pity, and
forgive, the Errors which that Passion will sometimes lead us into. The
_Count_ was too impatient to hear the Relation he was about to give him,
to make any other Answer to these Words than with a half Smile; which
the other perceiving, without any farther Prelude, began to satisfy his
Curiosity in this manner.
_The History of Monsieur_ FRANKVILLE.
You know, my Lord, said he, that I was bred at _Rheims_ with my Uncle,
the Bishop of that Place, and continu’d with him, till after, prompted
by Glory, and hope of that Renown you have since so gallantly acquir’d;
you left the Pleasures of the _Court_ for the Fatigues and Dangers of the
Field: When I came home, I never ceas’d solliciting my Father to permit
me to Travel, ’till weary’d with my continual Importunies, and perhaps,
not much displeas’d with my Thirst of Improvement, he at last gave
leave. I left _Paris_ a little before the Conclusion of the Peace, and
by that means remain’d wholly a Stranger to your Lordship’s Person, tho’
perfectly acquainted with those admirable Accomplishments which Fame is
every where so full of.
I have been in the Courts of _England_, _Spain_, and _Portugal_, but
nothing very material hapning to me in any of those Places, it would
be rather Impertinent, than Diverting, to defer, for Trifles, the main
Business of my Life, that of my Love, which had not a Being ’till I came
into this City.
I had been here but a little Time before I had a great many Acquaintance,
among the Number of them, was Seignior _Jaques Honorius Cittolini_: He,
of all the rest, I was most intimate with; and tho’ to the Generality
of People he behav’d himself with an Air of Imperiousness, he was to
me, all free, and easy; he seem’d as if he took a Pleasure in Obliging
me; carry’d me every where with him; introduc’d me to the best Company:
When I was absent he spoke of me, as of a Person who he had the highest
Esteem for; and when I was present, if there were any in Company whose
rank oblig’d him to place them above me in the _Room_; he took care to
testify that I was not below them in his _Respect_; in fine, he was never
more happy than when he was giving me some Proof how much he was my
Friend; and I was not a little satisfy’d that a Man of almost twice my
Years should believe me qualify’d for his Companion in such a manner as
he made me.