boast of any skill in the Art of Divination, yet, I fancy,
’tis in my Power to form a juster Guess than I have done,
what the Sentiments of your Heart will be when you first open
this----Methinks, I see you put on a scornful Smile, resolving
to be still unmov’d, either at Upbraidings or Complaints;
for to do one of these, I am satisfied, you imagine is the
reason of my troubling you with a Letter: But Sir, I am not
altogether silly enough to believe the tenderest Supplications
the most humble of my Sex cou’d make, has efficacy to restore
Desire, once Dead, to Life; or if it cou’d, I am not so mean
Spirited as to accept a return thus caus’d; nor wou’d it
be less impertinent to Reproach; to tell you that you are
Perjur’d---Base---Ungrateful, is what you know already, unless
your Memory is so Complaisant as not to remind you of either
Vows or Obligations: But, to assure you, that I reflect on
this sudden Change of your Humour without being fir’d with
Rage, or stupify’d with Grief, is perhaps, what you least
expect.----Yet, strange as it may seem, it is most certain,
that she, whom you have found the Softest, Fondest, Tenderest
of her Kind, is in a moment grown the most Indifferent, for
in spight of your Inconstancy, I never shall deny that I have
Lov’d you,---Lov’d you, even to Dotage, my Passion took birth
long before I knew you had a thought of feigning one for
me, which frees me from that Imputation Women too frequently
deserve, of _loving_ for no other Reason than because they are
_beloved_, for if you ne’er had _seem’d_ to love, I shou’d have
continu’d to do so in _Reality_. I found a thousand Charms
in your Person and Conversation, and believ’d your Soul no
less transcending all others in excellent Qualities, than I
still confess your Form to be in Beauty; I drest you up in
vain Imagination, adorn’d with all the Ornaments of Truth,
Honour, good Nature, Generosity, and every Grace that raise
mortal Perfection to the highest pitch, and almost reach
Divinity,---but you have taken care to prove your self, meer
_Man_, to like, dislike, and wish you know not what, nor why!
If I never had any Merits, how came you to think me worthy the
pains you have taken to engage me? And if I had, how am I so
suddenly depriv’d of them?---No, I am still the same, and the
only reason I appear not so to you, is, that you behold me
now, no more, with Lover’s Eyes; the few Charms, I am Mistress
of, look’d lovely at a distance, but lose their Lustre, when
approach’d too near; your Fancy threw a glittering Burnish o’re
me, which free Possession has worn off, and now, the _Woman_
only stands expos’d to View, and I confess I justly suffer for
the guilty Folly of believing that in your Sex Ardors cou’d
survive Enjoyment, or if they cou’d, that such a Miracle was
reserv’d for me; but thank Heaven my Punishment is past, the
Pangs, the Tortures of my bleeding Heart, in tearing your Idea
thence, already are no more! The fiery Tryal is over, and
I am now arriv’d at the Elizium of perfect Peace, entirely
unmolested by any warring Passion; the Fears, the Hopes, the
Jealousies, and all the endless Train of Cares which waited
on my hours of Love and fond Delusion, serve but to endear
re-gain’d Tranquility; and I can cooly _Scorn_, not _hate_ your
Falshood; and tho’ it is a Maxim very much in use among the
Women of my Country, that, _not to Revenge, were to deserve
Ill-usage_, yet I am so far from having a wish that way, that
I shall always esteem your _Virtues_, and while I pardon, pity
your _Infirmities_; shall praise your flowing Wit, without
an Indignant remembrance how oft it has been employ’d for my
undoing; shall acknowledge the brightness of your Eyes, and not
in secret Curse the borrow’d softness of their Glances, shall
think on all your past Endearments, your Sighs, your Vows, your
melting Kisses, and the warm Fury of your fierce Embraces, but
as a pleasing Dream, while Reason slept, and with not to renew
at such a Price.
“I desire no Answer to this, nor to be thought of more, go on
in the same Course you have begun, Change ’till you are tir’d
with roving, still let your Eyes Inchant, your Tongue Delude,
and Oaths Betray, and all who look, who listen, and believe, be
ruin’d and forsaken like
_Camilla._”
The calm and resolute Resentment which appear’d in the Stile of this
Letter, gave _Frankville_ very just Grounds to fear, it would be no small
Difficulty to obtain a Pardon for what he had so rashly Written; but when
he reflected on the seeming Reasons, which mov’d him to it, and that he
should have an Opportunity to let her know them, he was not altogether
Inconsolable, he pass’d the Night however in a World of Anxiety, and as
soon as Morning came, hurried away, to communicate to the _Count_ this
fresh Occasion of his Trouble.
It was now _D’elmont_’s turn to Rally, and he laugh’d as much at those
Fears, which he imagin’d Causeless, as the other had done, at the
Assignation he had perswaded him to make with _Ciamara_, but tho’ as most
of his Sex are, he was pretty much of the _Count_’s Opinion, yet, the
Re-instating himself in _Camilla_’s Esteem, was a Matter of too great
Importance to him, to suffer him to take one Moment’s ease ’till he was
perfectly Assur’d of it.
At last, the wish’d for Hour arriv’d, and he, disguis’d so, as it was
impossible for him to be known, attended the _Count_ to that dear Wicket,
which had so often given him Entrance to _Camilla_; they waited not long
for Admittance, _Brione_ was ready there to Receive them; the Sight of
her, inflam’d the Heart of Monsieur _Frankville_ with all the Indignation
imaginable, for he knew her to be the Woman, who, by her Treachery to
_Camilla_, had gain’d the Confidence of _Ciamara_, and involv’d him in
all the Miseries he had endur’d! but he contain’d himself, ’till she
taking the _Count_ by the Hand, in order to lead him to her Lady, bad him
wait her Return, which she told him should be immediately, in an outer
Room which she pointed him to.
In the mean Time she conducted the _Count_ to the Door of that
magnificent Chamber, where he had been receiv’d by the suppos’d
_Camilla_, and where he now beheld the real _Ciamara_, drest, if
possible, richer than she was the Night before, but loose as wanton
Fancy cou’d invent; she was lying on the Couch when he enter’d, and
affecting to seem as if she was not presently Sensible of his being
there, rose not to receive him ’till he was very near her; they both
kept silence for some Moments, she, waiting till he should speak,
and he, possibly, prevented by the uncertainty after what manner he
should Form his Address, so as to keep an equal Medium between the two
Extreams, of being Cruel, or too Kind, till at last the Violence of her
impatient Expectation burst out in these Words,----Oh that this Silence
were the Effect of Love!----and then perceiving he made no Answer; tell
me, continu’d she, am I forgiven for thus intruding on your _Pity_
for a Grant, which _Inclination_ would not have allow’d me? Cease
Madam, reply’d he, to encrease the Confusion which a just Sense of your
Favours, and my own Ingratitude has cast me in: How can you look with
Eyes so tender and so kind, on him who brings you nothing in Return?
Rather despise me, hate me, drive me from your Sight, believe me as I
am, unworthy of your Love, nor squander on a Bankrupt Wretch the noble
Treasure: Oh Inhuman! interrupted she, has then that Mistress of whose
Charms you boasted, engross’d all your stock of Tenderness? and have you
nothing, nothing to repay me for all this waste of Fondness,----this
lavish Prodigality of Passion, which forces me beyond my Sexes Pride, or
my own natural Modesty, to sue, to Court, to kneel and weep for Pity:
Pity, resum’d the _Count_ wou’d be a poor Reward for Love like yours, and
yet alas! continu’d he Sighing, ’tis all I have to give; I have already
told you, I am ty’d by Vows, by Honour, Inclination, to another, who
tho’ far absent hence, I still preserve the dear Remembrance of! My Fate
will soon recall me back to her, and _Paris_; yours fixes you at _Rome_,
and since we are doom’d to be for ever separated, it wou’d be base to
Cheat you with a vain Pretence, and lull you with Hopes pleasing Dreams a
while, when you must quickly wake to added Tortures, and redoubled Woe:
Heavens, cry’d she, with an Air full of Resentment, are then my Charms so
mean, my Darts so weak, that near, they cannot intercept those, shot at
such a Distance? And are you that dull, cold Platonist, which can prefer
the visionary Pleasures of an _absent_ Mistress, to the warm Transports
of the Substantial _present_: The _Count_ was pretty much surpriz’d at
these Words, coming from the Mouth of a Woman of Honour, and began now
to perceive what her Aim was, but willing to be more confirm’d, Madam,
said he, I dare not hope your Virtue wou’d permit.----Is this a Time
(Interrupted she, looking on him with Eyes which sparkled with wild
Desires, and left no want of further Explanation of her meaning) Is
this an Hour to preach of Virtue?----Married,----betroth’d, engag’d by
Love or Law, what hinders but this Moment you may be mine, this Moment,
well improv’d, might give us Joys to baffle a whole Age of Woe; make us,
at once, forget our Troubles past, and by its sweet remembrance, scorn
those to come; in speaking these Words, she sunk supinely on _D’elmont_’s
Breast; but tho’ he was not so ill-natur’d, and unmannerly as to repel
her, this sort of Treatment made him lose all the Esteem, and great part
of the Pity he had conceiv’d for her.
The Woes of Love are only worthy Commiseration, according to their
Causes; and tho’ all those kinds of Desire, which the difference of Sex
creates, bear in general, the name of Love, yet they are as vastly wide,
as Heaven and Hell; that Passion which aims chiefly at Enjoyment, in
Enjoyment ends, the fleeting Pleasure is no more remembred, but all the
stings of Guilt and Shame remain; but that, where the interiour Beauties
are consulted, and _Souls_ are Devotees, is truly Noble, Love, _there_
is a Divinity indeed, because he is immortal and unchangeable, and if
our earthy part partake the Bliss, and craving Nature is in all obey’d;
Possession thus desired, and thus obtain’d, is far from satiating,
_Reason_ is not here debas’d to _Sense_, but _Sense_ elevates itself to
_Reason_, the different Powers unite, and become pure alike.
It was plain that the Passion with which _Ciamara_ was animated, sprung
not from this last Source; she had seen the Charming Count, was taken
with his Beauty, and wish’d no farther than to possess his lovely
_Person_, his _Mind_ was the least of her Thoughts, for had she the least
Ambition to reign there, she wou’d not have so meanly sought to obtain
the one, after he had assured her, the other, far more noble part of him
was dispos’d of. The Grief he had been in, that it was not in his Power
to return her Passion, while he believ’d it meritorious, was now chang’d
to the utmost Contempt, and her Quality, and the State she liv’d in, did
not hinder him from regarding of her, in as indifferent a manner, as he
wou’d have done a common _Courtezan_.
Lost to all Sense of Honour, Pride or Shame, and wild to gratify her
furious Wishes, she spoke, without reserve, all they suggested to her,
and lying on his Breast, beheld, without concern, her Robes fly open, and
all the Beauties of her own expos’d, and naked to his View: Mad at his
Insensibility, at last she grew more bold, she kiss’d his Eyes,---his
Lips, a thousand times, then press’d him in her Arms with strenuous
Embraces,----and snatching his Hand and putting it to her Heart, which
fiercely bounded at his Touch, bid him be witness of his mighty Influence
there.
Tho’ it was impossible for any Soul to be capable of a greater, or more
constant Passion than his felt for _Melliora_, tho’ no Man that ever
liv’d, was less addicted to loose Desires,----in fine, tho’ he really
was, as _Frankville_ had told him, the most excellent of his Kind, yet,
he was still a _Man!_ And, ’tis not to be thought strange, if to the
force of such united Temptations, Nature and Modesty a little yielded;
warm’d with her fires, and perhaps, more mov’d by Curiosity, her
Behaviour having extinguish’d all his respect, he gave his Hands and Eyes
a full Enjoyment of all those Charms, which had they been answer’d by a
Mind worthy of them, might justly have inspir’d the highest Raptures,
while she, unshock’d, and unresisting, suffer’d all he did, and urg’d him
with all the Arts she was Mistress of, to more, and it is not altogether
improbable, that he might not entirely have forgot himself, if a sudden
Interruption had not restor’d his Reason to the consideration of the
Business which had brought him here.
Monsieur _Frankville_ had all this time been employ’d in a far different
manner of Entertainment; _Brione_ came to him, according to her promise,
assoon as she had introduc’d the _Count_ to _Ciamara_, and having been
commanded by that Lady to Discourse with the supposed Servant, and get
what she cou’d out of him, of the _Count_’s Affairs, she sat down and
began to talk to him with a great deal of Freedom; but he who was too
impatient to lose much time, told her he had a Secret to discover, if the
place they were in was private enough to prevent his being over-heard,
and she assuring him that it was, he immediately discover’d who he was,
and clap’d a Pistol to her Breast, swearing that Moment shou’d be the
last of her Life, if she made the least Noise, or attempted to intercept
his passage to _Camilla_: The terror she was in, made her fall on her
Knees, and conjuring him to spare her Life, beg’d a thousand Pardons for
her Infidelity, which she told him was not occasion’d by any particular
Malice to him; but not being willing to leave _Rome_ herself, the fear
of being expos’d to the revenge of _Ciamara_ and _Cittolini_, when they
shou’d find out that she had been the Instrument of _Camilla_’s Escape,
prevail’d upon her timerous Soul to that Discovery, which was the only
means to prevent what she so much dreaded: _Frankville_ contented himself
with venting his Resentment in two or three hearty Curses, and taking
her roughly by the Arm, bid her go with him to _Camilla_’s Apartment,
and discover before her what she knew of _Ciamara_’s Entertaining Count
_D’elmont_ in her Name, which she trembling promis’d to obey, and they
both went up a pair of back Stairs which led a private way to _Camilla_’s
Chamber; when they enter’d, she was sitting in her night Dress on the
Bed-side, and the unexpected sight of _Brione_, who, till now, had never
ventured to appear before her, since her Infidelity, and a Man with
her whom she thought a Stranger, fill’d her with such a surprize, that
it depriv’d her of her Speech, and gave _Frankville_ time to throw
off his Disguise, and catch her in his Arms, with all the Transports
of unfeign’d Affection, before she cou’d enough recover her self to
make any resistance, but when she did, it was with all the Violence
imaginable, and indeavouring to tear herself away; Villain, said she,
comest thou again to triumph o’re my Weakness,----again to Cheat me
into fond Belief? There needed no more to make this obsequious Lover
relinquish his Hold, and falling at her Feet, was beginning to speak
something in his Vindication; when she, quite lost in Rage, prevented
him, by renewing her Reproaches in this manner; have you not given me up
my Vows? Resum’d she, have you not abandon’d me to ruin,---to Death--to
Infamy,----to all the stings of self-accusing Conscience and Remorse?
And come you now, by your detested Presence, to alarm Remembrance,
and new point my Tortures?-----That Woman’s Treachery, continu’d she,
looking on _Brione_, I freely Pardon, since by that little Absence it
occasion’d, I have discovered the wavering disposition of your Soul,
and learn’d to scorn what is below my Anger. Hear me but speak, cry’d
_Frankville_, or if you doubt my Truth, as I confess you have almighty
Cause, let her inform you, what seeming Reasons, what Provocations urg’d
my hasty Rage to write that fatal,----that accursed Letter. I will hear
nothing, reply’d _Camilla_, neither from you nor her,----I see the base
Design, and scorn to joyn in the Deceit,--You had no Cause,----not even
the least Pretence for your Inconstancy but one, which, tho’ you all
are guilty of, you all Disown, and that is, being lov’d too well.----I
Lavish’d all the fondness of my Soul, and you, unable to reward, despiz’d
it:--But think not that the rage, you now behold me in, proceeds from
my Despair--No, your Inconstancy is the Fault of Nature, a Vice which
all your Sex are prone to, and ’tis we, the fond Believers only, are to
blame, _that_ I forgave, my Letter told you that I did----but thus to
come----thus Insolent in Imagination, to dare to hope I were that mean
Soul’d Wretch, whose easy Tameness, and whose doating Love, with Joy
would welcome your return, clasp you again in my deluded Arms, and swear
you were as dear as ever, is such an affront to my Understanding, as
merits the whole Fury of Revenge! as she spoke these Words, she turn’d
disdainfully from him with a Resolution to leave the Room, but she
could not make such hast to go away, as the despairing, the distracted
_Frankville_ did to prevent her, and catching hold of her Garments,
stay Madam, said he, wildly, either permit me to clear my self of this
barbarous Accusation, or, if you are resolv’d, Unhearing, to Condemn me,
behold me, satiate all your Rage can wish, for by Heaven, continued he,
holding the Pistol to his own Breast, as he had done a little before to
_Brione_’s, by all the Joys I have Possest, by all the Hell I now endure,
this Moment I’ll be receiv’d your _Lover_, or expire your _Martyr_. These
Words pronounc’d so passionately, and the Action that accompany’d them,
made a visible alteration in _Camilla_’s Countenance, but it lasted
not long, and Resuming her fierceness; your Death, cry’d she, this way
would give me little Satisfaction, the World would judge more Noble of
my Resentment, if by my Hand you fell----Yet, continu’d she, snatching
the Pistol from him, and throwing it out of the Window, which happen’d
to be open, I will not---cannot be the Executioner.--No, Live! And let
thy Punishment be, in _Reality_, to endure what thou well _Dissemblest_,
the Pangs, the racking Pangs, of hopeless, endless Love!--May’st thou
_indeed_, Love _Me_, as thou a thousand Times hast falsely sworn,---for
ever _Love_, and I, for ever _Hate!_ In this last Sentence, she flew
like Lightning to her Closet, and shut her self in, leaving the amaz’d
Lover still on his Knees, stupify’d with Grief and Wonder, all this
while _Brione_ had been casting about in her Mind, how to make the best
use of this Adventure with _Ciamara_, and encourag’d by _Camilla_’s
Behaviour and taking advantage of _Frankville_’s Confusion, made but one
Step to the Chamber Door, and running out into the Gallery, and down
Stairs, cry’d Murder,----Help, a Rape----Help, or _Donna Camilla_ will
be carry’d away.---She had no occasion to call often, for the Pistol
which _Camilla_ threw out of the Window chanc’d to go off in the fall,
and the report it made, had alarm’d some of the Servants who were in an
out-House adjoyning to the Garden, and imagining there were Thieves, were
gathering to search: some arm’d with Staves, some with Iron Bars, or any
thing they could get in the Hurry they were in, as they were running
confusedly about, they met Monsieur _Frankville_ pursuing _Brione_, with
a design to stop her Mouth, either by Threatnings or Bribes, but she was
too nimble for him, and knowing the ways of the House much better than he
did, went directly to the Room where _Ciamara_ was Caressing the Count in
the manner already mention’d: Oh Madam, said she, you are impos’d on, the
Count has deceiv’d your Expectations, and brought Monsieur _Frankville_
in Disguise to rob you of _Camilla_. These Words made them both, tho’
with very different Sentiments, start from the posture they were in, and
_Ciamara_ changing her Air of Tenderness for one all Fury, Monster! Cry’d
she to _D’elmont_, have you then betray’d me? This is no time, reply’d
he, hearing a great Bustle, and _Frankville_’s Voice pretty loud without,
for me to answer you, my Honour calls me to my Friend’s assistance; and
drawing his Sword, run as the Noise directed him to the Place where
_Frankville_ was defending himself against a little Army of _Ciamara_’s
Servants, she was not much behind him, and enrag’d to the highest degree,
cry’d out, kill, kill them both! But that was not a Task for a much
greater Number of such as them to Accomplish, and tho’ their Weapons
might easily have beat down, or broke the Gentlemens Sword; yet their
Fears kept them from coming too near, and _Ciamara_ had the Vexation to
see them both Retreat with Safety, and her self disappointed, as well in
her Revenge, as in her Love.
Nothing cou’d be more surpriz’d, than Count _D’elmont_ was, when he got
Home, and heard from _Frankville_ all that had pass’d between him and
_Camilla_, nor was his Trouble less, that he had it not in his Power to
give him any Advice in any Exigence so uncommon: He did all he cou’d
to comfort and divert his Sorrows, but in vain, the Wounds of bleeding
Love admit no Ease, but from the Hand which gave them; and he, who was
naturally rash and fiery, now grew to that height of Desparation and
violence of Temper, that the Count fear’d some fatal Catastrophe, and
wou’d not suffer him to stir from him that Night, nor the next Day,
till he had oblig’d him to make a Vow, and bind it with the most solemn
Imprecations, not to offer any thing against his Life.
But, tho’ plung’d into the lowest depth of Misery, and lost, to all
Humane probability, in an inextricable Labyrinth of Woe, _Fortune_ will
find, at last some way, to raise, and disentangle those, whom she is
pleas’d to make her Favourites, and that Monsieur _Frankville_ was one,
an unexpected Adventure made him know.
The third Day from that, in which he had seen _Camilla_, as he was
sitting in his Chamber, in a melancholly Conversation with the Count, who
was then come to Visit him, his Servant brought him a Letter, which he
said had been just left, by a Woman of an extraordinary Appearance, and
who the Moment she had given it into his Hand, got from the Door with so
much speed, that she seem’d rather to vanish than to walk.
While the Servant was speaking, _Frankville_ look’d on the Count with a
kind of a pleas’d Expectation in his Eye, but then casting them on the
Direction of the Letter, Alas! Said he, how vain was my Imagination, this
is not _Camilla’s_, but a Hand, to which I am utterly a Stranger; these
Words were clos’d with a sigh, and he open’d it with Negligence which
wou’d have been unpardonable, cou’d he have guess’d at the Contents,
but assoon as he saw the Name of Violetta at the bottom, a flash of Hope
re-kindled in his Soul, and trembling with Impatience he Read.
[Illustration]
To Monsieur FRANKVILLE.
_I think it cannot be call’d Treachery, if we betray the
Secrets of a Friend, only when Concealment were an Injury, but
however I may be able to answer this breach of Trust, I am
about to make to my self, ’tis your Behaviour alone, which can
absolve me to CAMILLA, and by your Fidelity she must judge of
MINE._
_Tho’ Daughter to the Man she hates, she finds nothing in me
Unworthy of her Love and Confidence, and as I have been privy,
ever since your mutual Misfortunes, to the whole History of
your Amour, so I am now no Stranger to the Sentiments, your
last Conversation has inspir’d her with--She loves you still,
MONSIEUR--with an extremity of Passion loves you,----But, tho’
she ceases to believe you unworthy of it, her Indignation for
your unjust Suspicion of her will not be easily remov’d--She is
resolv’d to act the HEROINE, tho’ to purchase that Character
it shou’d cost her Life: She is determin’d for a Cloyster, and
has declared her Intention, and a few Days will take away all
Possibility of ever being yours; but I, who know the conflicts
she endures, wish it may be in your Power to prevent the
Execution of a Design, which cannot, but be fatal to her: My
Father and CIAMARA, I wish I cou’d not call her Aunt, were last
Night in private Conference, but I over heard enough of their
Discourse, to know there has been some ungenerous Contrivance
carry’d on to make you, and CAMILLA appear guilty to each
other, and ’tis from that Knowledge I derive my Hopes, that
you have Honour enough to make a right Use of this Discovery,
if you have anything to say, to further the Intercessions I
am imploy’d in, to serve you; Prepare a Letter, which I will
either prevail on her to READ, or oblige her, in spite of the
Resolution she has made, to HEAR: But take care, that in the
least, you hint not that you have receiv’d one from me, for I
shall perswade her that the Industry of your Love has found
means of conveying it to me, without my Knowledge: Bring it
with you this Evening to St. PETER’S, and assoon as Divine
Service is over, follow her who shall drop her Handkerchief as
she passes you, for by that Mark you shall distinguish her whom
you yet know, but by the Name of_
Violetta.
P.S. _One thing, and indeed not the least, which induc’d me
to write, I had almost forgot, which is, that your Friend the
Accomplish’d Count D’ELMONT, is as much endangered by the
Resentment of CIAMARA, as your self by that of my Father, bid
him beware how he receives any Letter, or Present from a Hand
unknown, lest he should Experience, what he has doubtless heard
of, our ITALIAN Art of Poysoning by the smell._
When Monsieur _Frankville_ had given this Letter to the Count to read,
which he immediately did, they both of them broke into the highest
Encomiums on this young Lady’s Generosity, who contrary to the custom of
her Sex, which seldom forgives an affront of that kind, made it her study
to serve the Man who had refus’d her, and make her Rival blest.
These Testimonies of a grateful Acknowledgement being over, _Frankville_
told the Count, he believ’d the most, and indeed the only effectual
Means to extinguish _Camilla’s_ Resentment wou’d be entirely to remove
the Cause, which cou’d be done no other way, than by giving her a full
Account of _Ciamara’s_ behaviour, while she pass’d for her: _D’elmont_
readily consented, and thought it not at all inconsistent with his
Honour to Expose that of a Woman who had shewn so little Value for it
herself: And when he saw that _Frankville_ had finish’d his Letter,
which was very long, for Lovers cannot easily come to a Conclusion, he
offer’d to write a Note to her, enclos’d in the other, which shou’d serve
as an Evidence of the Truth of what he had alledged in his Vindication:
_Frankville_ gladly embrac’d the kind Proposal, and the other immediately
made it good in these Words.
[Illustration]
To _Donna_ CAMILLA.
Madam,
_If the Severity of your Justice requires a VICTIM, I only am
Guilty, who being Impos’d upon my self, ENDEAVOUR’D, for I
cannot say I cou’d ACCOMPLISH it, to involve the Unfortunate
FRANKVILLE in the same fatal Error, and at last, prevail’d on
him to WRITE, what he cou’d not be brought, by all my Arguments
to THINK._
_Let the Cause which led me to take this Freedom, excuse the
Presumption of it, which, from one so much a Stranger, wou’d be
else unpardonable: But when we are conscious of a Crime, the
first reparation we can make to Innocence, is, to acknowledge
we have offended; and, if the Confession of my Faults, may
purchase an Absolution for my Friend, I shall account it the
noblest Work of Supererogation._
_Be assur’d, that as inexorable as you are, your utmost Rigour
wou’d find its Satisfaction, if you cou’d be sensible of what I
suffer in a sad Repentance for my Sin of injuring so Heavenly
a Virtue, and perhaps, in time be mov’d by it, to Pity and
Forgive_
The Unhappily deceiv’d
D’elmont.