expecting when the Count shou’d speak, and he endeavouring to recollect
himself enough to do so, ’till she, at last, possibly guessing at his
Thoughts, resum’d her Discourse in this manner: My Lord, said she,
wonder not at the Power of Love, a Form like yours might soften the most
rugged Heart, much more one, by Nature so tender as is mine.----Think
but what you are, continu’d she sighing, and making him sit down by her
on the Couch, and you will easily excuse whatever my Passion may enforce
me to commit. I must confess Madam, answer’d he very gravely, I never
in my Life wanted presence of mind so much as at this juncture, to see
before me here, the Person, who, I believ’d, liv’d far from hence, who,
by Appointment, I was to wait on this Night at a different Place.----To
find in the Mistress of my Friend, the very Lady, who seems unworthily
to have bestow’d her Heart on me, are Circumstances so Incoherent, as
I can neither account for, or make evident to _Reason_, tho’ they are
too truly so to _Sense_: It will be easy, reply’d she, to reconcile
both these seeming Contradictions, when you shall know that the Gardens
belonging to this House, are of a very large Extent, and not only that,
but the turning of the Streets are so order’d, as make the Distance
between the fore, and back Door appear much greater than really it is:
And for the other, as I have already told you, you ought to be better
acquainted with your self, than to be surpriz’d at Consequences which
must infallibly attend such Charms: In saying this, she turn’d her Head a
little on one side, and put her Handkerchief before her Face, affecting
to seem confus’d at what she spoke; but the Count redned in good Earnest,
and with a Countenance which express’d Sentiments, far different from
those she endeavour’d to Inspire: Madam, said he, tho’ the good Opinion
you have of me is owing entirely to the _Error_ of your _Fancy_, which
too often, especially in your Sex, blinds the _Judgment_, yet, ’tis
certain, that there are not many Men, whom such Praises, coming from a
Mouth like yours, wou’d not make Happy and Vain; but if I was ever of
a Humour to be so, it is now wholly mortify’d in me, and ’tis but with
the utmost regret, that I must receive the Favours you confer on me to
the prejudice of my Friend: And is that, interrupted she hastily, is
that the _only_ Cause? Does nothing but your Friendship to _Frankville_
prevent my Wishes? That, of itself, answer’d he, were a sufficient Bar to
sunder us for ever, but there’s another, if not a greater, a more tender
one, which, to restore you to the Path, which Honour, Gratitude, and
Reason call you to, I must inform you of, yes, I must tell you, Madam,
all lovely as you are, that were there no such Man as _Frankville_, in
the World,----were you as free as Air, I have a defence within, which all
your Charms can never pierce, nor softness melt---I am already bound,
not with the weak Ties of Vows or formal Obligations, which confine no
farther than the Body, but Inclination!----the fondest Inclination! That
ever swell’d a _Heart_ with Rapturous Hopes: The Lady had much ado to
contain herself till he had done speaking; she was by Nature extreamly
Haughty, Insolent of her Beauty, and impatient of any thing she thought
look’d like a flight of it, and this open Defyance of _her_ Power, and
acknowledging _anothers_, had she been less in Love wou’d have been
insupportable to her: Ungrateful and uncourtly Man, said she, looking
on him with Eyes that sparkled at once with Indignation and Desire, you
might have spar’d yourself the trouble of Repeating, and me the Confusion
of hearing, in what manner you stand Engag’d, it had been enough to have
told me you never cou’d be mine, without appearing transported at the
Ruin which you make; if my too happy Rival possesses Charms, I cannot
boast, methinks your _good Manners_ might have taught you, not to insult
my Wants, and your _good Nature_, to have mingled _Pity_ with your
_Justice_; with these Words she fell a Weeping, but whether they were
Tears of Love or Anger, is hard to determine, ’tis certain that both
those Passions rag’d this Moment in her Soul with equal Violence, and
if she had had it in her Power, wou’d doubtless have been glad to have
hated him, but he was, at all times, too lovely to suffer a possibility
of that, and much more so at this, for in spite of the Shock, that
Infidelity he believ’d her guilty of to _Frankville_, gave him; he was
by Nature so Compassionate, he _felt_ the Woes he _saw_, or _heard_ of,
even of those who were most indifferent to him, and cou’d not now behold
a Face, in which all the Horrors of Despair were in the most lively
manner represented, without displaying a Tenderness in his, which in
any other Man, might have been taken for Love; the dazling Radience of
his Eyes, gave place to a more dangerous, more bewitching softness, and
when he sigh’d, in Pity of her Anguish, a Soul Inchanting Languishment
diffus’d itself thro’ all his Air, and added to his Graces; she presently
perceiv’d it, and forming new Hopes, as well from that, as from his
Silence, took hold of his Hand, and pressing it eagerly to her Bosom,
Oh my Lord! resum’d she, you cannot be ungrateful if you wou’d,----I
feel you cannot----Madam, interrupted he, shaking off as much possible
that show of Tenderness, which he found had given her Incouragement; I
wish not to convince you how nearly I am touch’d, with what you suffer,
lest it shou’d _encrease_ an Esteem, which, since prejudicial to your
Repose, and the Interest of my Friend; I rather ought to endeavour to
_lessen_.----But, as this is not the Entertainment I expected from
_Camilla_, I beg to know an Answer of the Business I came upon, and what
you decree for the unfortunate _Frankville_: If the Lady was agitated
with an extremity of Vexation at the _Count_’s Declaration of his Passion
for another, what was she now, at this Disappointment of the Hopes she
was so lately flatter’d with! instead of making any direct reply to what
he said, she rag’d, stamp’d, tore her Hair, curs’d _Frankville_, all
Mankind, the World, and in that height of Fury, scarce spar’d Heaven
itself; but the violence of her Pride and Resentment being a little
vented, Love took his turn, again she wept, again she prest his Hand, nay
she even knelt and hung upon his Feet, as he wou’d have broke from her,
and beg’d him with Words as eloquent as Wit cou’d Form, and desperate
dying Love Suggest, to pity and relieve her Misery: But he had now
learn’d to dissemble his Concern, lest it shou’d a second time beguile
her, and after raising her, with as careless and unmov’d an Air, as he
was capable of putting on: My Presence, Madam, said he, but augments your
Disorder, and ’tis only by seeing you no more, that I am qualify’d to
conduce to the recovery of your Peace: With these Words he turn’d hastily
from her, and was going out of the Room, when she, quick as Thought,
sprung from the Place where she had stood, and being got between him and
the Door, and throwing her self into his Arms, before he had time to
prevent her; you must not, shall not go, she cry’d, till you have left
me dead: Pardon me, Madam, answer’d he fretfully, and struggling to get
loose from her Embrace, to stay after the Discovery you have made of your
Sentiments, were to be guilty of an Injustice almost equal to your’s,
therefore I beg you’d give me liberty to pass.----Hear me but speak,
resum’d she, grasping him yet harder; return but for a Moment,----lovely
Barbarian,----Hell has no torments like your Cruelty. Here, the different
Passions working in her Soul, with such uncommon Vehemence, hurry’d
her Spirits beyond what Nature cou’d Support; her Voice faulter’d in
the Accent, her trembling Hands by slow degrees relinquish’d what so
eagerly they had held, every Sense forgot its Use, and she sunk, in all
appearance, lifeless on the Floor. The Count was, if possible, more glad
to be releas’d, than griev’d at the occasion, and contented himself with
calling her Women to her Assistance, without staying to see when she
wou’d recover.
He went out of that House with Thoughts much more discompos’d than those
with which he had entered it, and when he came Home, where _Frankville_
impatiently waited his Return, he was at the greatest loss in the World,
how to discover his Misfortune to him; the other observing the trouble
of his Mind, which was very visible in his Countenance; my Lord, said
he, in a melancholly Tone, I need not ask you what Success, the gloom
which appears on your Brow, tells me, my ill Fortune has deny’d you the
means of speaking to _Camilla_? Accuse not Fortune, answer’d _D’elmont_,
but the influence of malicious Stars which seldom, if ever, suits our
Dispositions to our Circumstances; I have seen _Camilla_, have talk’d
to her, and ’tis from that Discourse that I cannot forbear reflection
on the Miseries of Humanity, which, while it mocks us with a show of
_Reason_, gives us no Power to curb our _Will_, and guide the erring
Appetites to Peace. Monsieur _Frankville_ at these Words first felt a
jealous Pang, and as ’tis natural to believe every Body admires what we
do, he presently imagin’d Count _D’elmont_ had forgot _Melliora_ in the
presence of _Camilla_, and that it was from the Consciousness of his own
Weakness and Inconstancy, that he spoke so feelingly: I wonder not my
Lord, said he coldly, that the Beauties of _Camilla_ shou’d inspire you
with Sentiments, which, perhaps, for many Reasons, you wou’d desire to
be free from, and I ought, in Prudence, to have consider’d, that tho’
you are the most excellent of your Kind, you are still a _Man_, and not
have the Passions incident to _Man_, and not have expos’d you to those
Dangers the sight of _Camilla_ must necessarily involve you in: I wish
to Heaven answer’d the Count, easily guessing what his Thoughts were, no
greater threatned you, and that you cou’d think on _Camilla_ with the
same indifference as I can, or she of me with more; then, in as brief
a manner as he cou’d, he gave him the Substance of what had happen’d.
_Frankville_, whose only Fault was rashness, grew almost wild at the
Recital of so unexpected a Misfortune, he knew not for a good while what
to believe, loath he was to suspect the Count, but loather to suspect
_Camilla_, yet flew into extremities of Rage against both, by turns: The
Count pitied, and forgave all that the violence of his Passion made him
utter, but offer’d not to argue with him, ’till he found him capable of
admitting his Reasons, and then, that open Sincerity, that honest noble
Assurance which always accompany’d his Sweetness, and made it difficult
to doubt the Truth of any thing he said, won the disorder’d Lover to
an entire Conviction; he now concludes his Mistress false, repents the
tenderness he has had for her, and tho’ she still appears as lovely to
his _Fancy_ as ever, she grows odious to his _Judgment_, and resolves to
use his utmost Efforts to banish her Idea from his Heart.
In this Humour he took leave of the Count, it growing late, and his last
Nights Adventure taught him the danger of Nocturnal Walks, but how he
spent his time till Morning, those can only guess, who have loved like
him, and like him, met so cruel a Disappointment.
The Count pass’d not the Night in much less Inquietude than _Frankville_,
he griev’d the powerful Influence of his own Attractions, and had
there not been a _Melliora_ in the World, he wou’d have wish’d himself
Deform’d, rather than have been the Cause of so much Misery, as his
Loveliness produc’d.
The next Morning the Count design’d to visit _Frankville_, to strengthen
him in his Resolution of abandoning all Thoughts of the unconstant
_Camilla_, but before he cou’d get drest, the other came into his
Chamber: My Lord, said he, assoon as they were alone, my perfidious
Mistress, failing to make a Conquest of your Heart, is still willing to
preserve that she had attain’d over mine, but all her Charms and her
Delusions are but vain, and to prove to your Lordship that they are so, I
have brought the Letter I receiv’d from her, scarce an Hour past, and the
true Copy of my Answer to it.
[Illustration]
To Monsieur FRANKVILLE.
_Tho’ nothing proves the value of our Presence, so much as the
Pangs our absence occasions, and in my last I rashly wish’d
you might be sensible of mine, yet on examining my Heart, I
presently recall’d the hasty Prayer, and found I lov’d with
that extravagance of Tenderness, that I had rather you return’d
it too little than too much, and methinks cou’d better bear to
represent you to my Fancy, careless and calm as common Lovers
are, than think, I saw you, Burning,--Bleeding,---Dying, like
me, with hopeless Wishes, and unavailing Expectations; but Ah!
I fear such Apprehensions are but too un-necessary----You think
not of me, and, if in those happy days, when no cross Accident
interven’d to part me from your Sight, my Fondness pleas’d,
you now find nothing in CAMILLA worth a troubled Thought, nor
breath one tender sigh in memory of our Transports past.----If
I wrong your Love, impute it to Distraction, for Oh! ’tis sure,
I am not in my Senses, nor know to form one regular Desire: I
act, and speak, and think, a thousand Incoherent things, and
tho’ I cannot forbear Writing to you, I write in such a manner,
so wild, so different from what I wou’d, that I repent me of
the Folly I am guilty of, even while I am committing it; but
to make as good a Defence as I am able for these, perhaps,
unwelcome Lines, I must inform you that they come not so much
to let you know my Sentiments, as to engage a Discovery of
yours: CIAMARA has discharg’d one of her Servants from her
Attendance, who no longer courting her Favour or regarding her
Frowns, I have prevail’d upon, not only to bring this to you,
but to convey an Answer back to me, by the help of a String
which I am to let down to him from my Window, therefore, if
you are but as Kind, as he has promis’d to be Faithful, we
may often enjoy the Blessing of this distant Conversation;
Heaven only knows when we shall be permitted to enjoy a nearer.
CITTOLINI is this Evening return’d from his VILLA, and nothing
but a Miracle can save me from the necessity of making my
Choice of him, or a Monastery, either of which is worse than
Death, since it must leave me the Power to wish, but take away
the means, of being what I so oft have swore to be_
Eternally Yours, and,
Yours alone,
_Camilla_.
The Count could not forbear lifting up his Eyes and Hands in token of
Amazement, at the unexampled Falshood this Woman appeared guilty of, but
perceiving Monsieur _Frankville_ was about to read the following Answer,
wou’d not Interrupt him, by asking any Questions ’till he had done.
[Illustration]
To _Donna_ CAMILLA.
_If Vows are any constraint to an Inclination so addicted to
Liberty as Yours, I shall make no difficulty to release you of
all you ever made to me! Yes Madam, you are free to dispose
both of your Heart and Person wheresoever you think fit, nor
do I desire you shou’d give your self the pains of farther
Dissimulation. I pay too entire an Obedience to your Will, to
continue in a Passion which is no longer pleasing: Nor will, by
an ill tim’d and unmannerly Constancy, disturb the serenity of
your future Enjoyments with any happier Man than_
Frankville.
You see, my Lord, said he with a sigh, that I have put it out of her
Power to Triumph over my Weakness, for I confess my Heart still wears her
Chains, but e’er my Eyes or Tongue betray to her the shameful Bondage,
these Hands shou’d tear them out; therefore I made no mention of her
Behaviour to you, nor of my sending any Letter by you, not only because
I knew not if your Lordship wou’d think it proper, but lest she shou’d
imagine my Resentment proceeded from Jealousy, and that I lov’d her
still.----No, she shall ne’er have Cause to guess the truth of what I
suffer.----Her _real perfidy_ shall be repaid with _seeming Inconstancy_
and Scorn---Oh! How ’twill sting her Pride,----By Heaven, I feel a gloomy
kind of Pleasure in the Thought, and will indulge it, even to the highest
insults of Revenge.
I rather wish, reply’d the Count, you cou’d in _earnest_ be indifferent,
than only _feign_ to be so, her unexampled Levity Deceit, renders her
as unworthy of your Anger as your Love, and there is too much Danger
while you preserve the _one_, that you will not be able to throw off the
_other_.----Oh! I pretend not to it, cry’d _Frankville_, interrupting
him, she has too deep a root within my Soul ever to be remov’d---I boast
no more than a concealment of my Passion, and when I dress the horrors
of a bleeding, breaking Heart, in all the calm of cold Tranquility;
methinks, you shou’d applaud the _Noble_ Conquest: Time, said the
_Count_, after a little Pause, and a just Reflection how little she
deserves your Thoughts, will teach you to obtain a _Nobler_; that of
numbering your Love, among things that _were_, but _are_ no more, and
make you, with me, acknowledge that ’tis as great an argument of _Folly_
and _meanness of Spirit_ to continue the same Esteem when the Object
ceases to deserve, which we profess’d before the discovery of that
unworthiness, as it wou’d be of _Villany_ and _Inconstancy of Mind_, to
change, without an Efficient Cause: A great deal of Discourse pass’d
between them to the same Effect, and it was but in vain that Count
_D’elmont_ endeavour’d to perswade him to a real forgetfulness of the
Charmer, tho’ he resolv’d to seem as if he did so.
While they were disputing, one of _D’elmont’s_ Servants gave him a
Letter, which, he told him, the Person who brought it, desir’d he wou’d
answer immediately; he no sooner broke it open, and cast his Eye over
it, than he cry’d out in a kind of Transport, Oh, _Frankville_, what has
Fate been doing! You are Happy.----_Camilla_ is Innocent, and perhaps the
most deserving of her Sex; I only am Guilty, who, by a fatal Mistake have
wrong’d her Virtue, and Tormented you; but Read, continu’d he, giving him
the Letter, Read, and Satisfy your self.
Monsieur _Frankville_ was too much astonish’d at these Words to be able
to make any reply, but immediately found the Interpretation of them in
these Lines.
[Illustration]
To the dear cruel Destroyer of my Quiet, the never too much
Admir’d _Count_ D’ELMONT.
“’Tis no longer the Mistress of your Friend, a perjur’d and
unjust _Camilla_, who languishes and dies by your Contempt, but
one, whom all the Darts of Love had strove in vain to reach,
’till from your Charms they gain’d a God-like Influence, and
un-erring Force! One, who tho’ a Widow, brings you the Offering
of a Virgin Heart.
“As I was sitting in my Closet, watching the progress of the
lazy Hours, which flew not half so swift as my Desires to bring
on the appointed time in which you promis’d to be with me in
the Garden; my Woman came running in, to acquaint me, that
you were in the House, and waited to speak with _Camilla_:
Surprize, and Jealousy at once Assaulted me, and I sunk beneath
the Apprehension that you might, by some Accident, have seen
her, and also loved her, to ease my self of those tormenting
Doubts I resolv’d to appear before you, in her stead, and kept
my Vail over my Face, ’till I found that hers was unknown to
you:-----You are not Ignorant what follow’d, the Deceit pass’d
upon you for Truth, but I was sufficiently punish’d for it, by
the severity of your Usage: I was just going to discover who
I was, when the violence of my Love, my Grief, and my Despair
threw me into that Swoon, in which, to compleat your Cruelty,
you left me; ’twou’d be endless to endeavour to represent the
Agonies of my Soul, when I recovered, and heard you were gone,
but all who truly Love, as they _fear much_, so they _hope
much_, my Tortures at length abated, at least, permitted me to
take some intervals of Comfort, and I began to flatter my self
that the Passion you seem’d transported with, for a nameless
Mistress, was but a _feint_ to bring me back to him you thought
I was oblig’d to Love, and that there was a possibility, that
my Person and Fortune might not appear despicable to you, when,
you shou’d know, I have no Ties but those of Inclination, which
can be only yours while I am
_Ciamara._
“_P.S._ If you find nothing in me worthy of your Love, my
Sufferings are such, as justly may deserve your Pity; either
relieve or put an end to them I conjure you---Free me from the
ling’ring Death of Doubt, at once decree my Fate, for, like
a God, you rule my very Will, nor dare I, without your Leave,
throw off this wretched Being; Oh then, permit me once more to
behold you, to try at least, to warm you into Kindness with my
Sighs, to melt you with my Tears,---to sooth you into softness
by a thousand yet undiscover’d Fondnesses---and, if all fail to
die before your Eyes.”
Those who have experienc’d the force of Love, need not to be inform’d
what Joy, what Transport swell’d the Heart of Monsieur _Frankville_,
at this unexpected _Eclaircissment_ of his dear _Camilla’s_ Innocence;
when every thing concurs to make our Woes seem real, when Hopes are
dead, and even Desire is hush’d by the loud Clamours of Despair and
Rage, then,---then, to be recall’d to Life, to Light, to Heaven and Love
again, is such a torrent of o’re powering Happiness,--such a surcharge of
Extacy, as Sense can hardly bear.
What now wou’d _Frankville_ not have given that it had been in his Power
to have recall’d the last Letter he sent to _Camilla_? his Soul severely
reproach’d him for so easily believing she cou’d be False; tho’ his
Experience of the sweetness of her Disposition, made him not doubt of a
Pardon from her, when she shou’d come to know what had been the Reason
of his Jealousy; his impatience to see her, immediately put it into his
Head, that as _Ciamara_ had been the occasion of the mis-understanding
between them, _Ciamara_ might likewise be made the property to set all
right again; to this end, he entreated the Count to write her an answer
of Compliance, and a promise to come to her the next Day, in which Visit,
he wou’d, in a Disguise attend him, and being once got into the House, he
thought it wou’d be no difficulty to steal to _Camilla’s_ Apartment.
But he found it not so easy a Task as he imagin’d, to persuade Count
_D’elmont_ to come into this Design, his generous Heart, averse to all
Deceit, thought it base and unmanly to abuse with Dissimulation the real
tenderness this Lady had for him, and tho’ press’d by the Brother of
_Melliora_, and conjur’d to it, even by the Love he profess’d for her, it
was with all the reluctance in the World, that he, at last, consented,
and his Servant came several times into the Room to remind him that the
Person who brought the Letter, waited impatiently for an Answer, before
he cou’d bring himself into a Humour to write in the manner Monsieur
_Frankville_ desir’d; and tho’, scarce any Man ever had so sparkling a
Fancy, such a readiness of Thought, or aptitude of Expression, when the
dictates of his Soul, were the Employment of his Tongue or Pen, yet he
now found himself at a loss for Words, and he wasted more time in these
few Lines, than a Thousand times as many on any other Subject wou’d have
cost him.
[Illustration]
To the Beautiful and Obliging CIAMARA.
_Madam_,
“If I did not Sin against Truth when I assur’d you that I had
a Mistress to whom I was engag’d by Inclination, I certainly
did, when I appear’d guilty of a harshness which was never in
my Nature; the Justice you do me in believing the Interest of
my Friend was the greatest Motive for my seeming Unkindness I
have not the Power sufficiently to acknowledge, but, cou’d you
look into my Soul, you wou’d there find the Effects of your
Inspiration, something so tender, and so grateful, as only
favours, such as you confer, cou’d merit or create.
“I design to make my self happy in waiting on you to Morrow
Night about Eleven, if you will order me admittance at that
Back-gate, which was the Place of our first Appointment, ’till
then, I am the lovely _Ciamara_’s
Most Devoted Servant
_D’elmont._
“_P.S._ There are some Reasons why I think it not safe to come
alone, therefore beg you’ll permit me to bring a Servant with
me, on whose secrecy I dare rely.”
When the Count had sent away this little Billet, Monsieur _Frankville_
grew very gay on the hopes of his Design succeeding; and laughing,
my Lord said he, I question whether _Melliora_ wou’d forgive me, for
engaging you in this Affair; _Ciamara_ is extreamly handsome, has Wit,
and where she attempts to Charm, has doubtless, a thousand Artifices to
obtain her wish; the Count was not in a temper to relish his Raillery,
he had a great deal of Compassion for _Ciamara_, and thought himself
inexcusable for deceiving her, and all that _Frankville_ cou’d do to
dissipate the Gloom that reflection spread about him, was but vain.
They spent the greatest part of this Day together, as they had done the
former; and when the time came that _Frankville_ thought it proper to
take Leave, it was with a much more chearful Heart, than he had the Night
before; but his Happiness was not yet secure, and in a few Hours he found
a considerable alteration in his Condition.
As soon as it was dark enough for CAMILLA to let down her String to the
Fellow whom she had order’d to wait for it, he receiv’d another Letter
fasten’d to it, and finding it was Directed as the other, for Monsieur
_Frankville_, he immediately brought it to him.
It was with a mixture of Fear and Joy, that the impatient Lover broke it
open, but both these Passions gave Place to an adequate Despair, when
having un-seal’d it, he read these Lines.
[Illustration]
_To Monsieur_ FRANKVILLE.