_Frankville_’s, overtook them at this Place, and after expressing
some Amazement to find ’em no farther on their Journey, told Monsieur
_Frankville_ he believ’d he cou’d inform him of some things which
had happen’d since his Departure, and cou’d not yet have reach’d his
Knowledge, which the other desiring him to do, the Gentleman began in
this manner.
It was no sooner Day, said he, than it was nois’d over all the City,
that Donna _Camilla_, Count _D’elmont_, and your self, had privately
left _Rome_; every Body spoke of it, according to their Humour; but
the Friends of _Ciamara_ and _Cittolini_ were outragious, a Complaint
was immediately made to the _Consistory_, and all imaginable Deligence
us’d, to overtake, or stop you, but you were so happy as to Escape, and
the Pursuers return’d without doing any thing of what they went about:
Tho’ _Cittolini_’s disappointment to all appearance, was the greatest,
yet _Ciamara_ bore it with the least Patience, and having vainly rag’d,
offer’d all the Treasure she was Mistress of, and perhaps spent the best
part of it in fruitless means to bring you back, at last she swallow’d
Poison, and in the raving agonies of Death, confess’d, that it was not
the loss of _Camilla_, but Count _D’elmont_ which was the Cause of her
Despair: Her Death gave a fresh occasion of Grief to _Cittolini_, but
the Day in which she was interr’d, brought him yet a nearer; he had sent
to his _Villa_ for his Daughter _Violetta_ to assist at the Funeral, and
the Messenger return’d with the surprizing Account of her not having
been there as she pretended she was, nothing was ever equal to the Rage,
the Grief, and the Amazement of this distracted Father, when after the
strictest Enquiry, and Search that cou’d be made, she was no where to be
found or heard of, it threw him into a Fever, of which he linger’d but a
small Time, and dy’d the same Day on which I left _Rome_.
The Gentleman who made this recital, was entirely a Stranger to any
of the Company but Monsieur _Frankville_, and they were retired into
a private Room during the time of their Conversation, which lasted
not long; _Frankville_, was impatient to communicate to Camilla and
_D’elmont_ what he had heard, and as soon as Civility wou’d permit, took
leave of the Gentleman.
The Count had too much Compassion in his Nature not to be extreamly
troubled when he was told this melancholly Catastrophe; but _Camilla_
said little; the ill usage of _Ciamara_, and the impudent, and
interested Pretensions of _Cittolini_ to her, kept her from being so
much _concern’d_ at their Misfortunes, as she wou’d have been at any
other Persons, and the generosity of her Temper, or some other Reason
which the Reader will not be ignorant of, hereafter, from expressing
any _Satisfaction_ in the Punishment they had met: But when the Count,
who most of all lamented _Violetta_, express’d his Astonishment and
Affliction, at her Elopement, she joyn’d with him in the Praises of that
young Lady, with an eagerness which testify’d, she had no part in the
Hatred she bore her Father.
While they were discoursing, _Camilla_ observ’d, that _Fidelio_ who was
all this while in the Room, grew very pale, and at last saw him drop
on the Ground, quite Senseless, she run to him, as did his Lord, and
Monsieur _Frankville_, and after, by throwing Water in his Face, they
brought him to himself again, he appear’d in such an Agony that they
fear’d his Fit wou’d return, and order’d him to be laid on a Bed, and
carefully attended.
After they had taken a short Repast, they began to think of setting
forward on their Journey, designing to reach _Piedmont_ that Night: The
Count went himself to the Chamber where his Page was laid, and finding
he was very ill, told him he thought it best for him to remain in that
Place, that he wou’d order Physicians to attend him, and that when he was
fully recover’d, he might follow them to _Paris_ with Safety. _Fidelio_
was ready to faint a second time at the hearing these Words, and with
the most earnest Conjurations, accompany’d with Tears, begg’d that he
might not be left behind: I can but die, said he, if I go with you, but
I am sure, that nothing if I stay can _save_ me: The Count seeing him so
pressing, sent for a _Litter_, but there was none to be got, and in spite
of what _Camilla_ or _Frankville_ cou’d say to diswade him, having his
Lord’s Leave, he ventured to attend him as he had done the former part of
the Journey.
They Travell’d at an easy rate, because of _Fidelio_’s Indisposition, and
it being later than they imagin’d, Night came upon ’em before they were
aware of it, Usher’d in, by one of the most dreadful Storms that ever
was; the Rain, the Hail; the Thunder, and the Lightning, was so Violent
that it oblig’d ’em to mend their Pace to get into some Place of shelter,
for there was no House near: But to make their Misfortune the greater,
they miss’d the Road, and rode considerably out of their way, before
they perceiv’d that they were wrong; the darkness of the Night, which
had no Illumination than, now and then, a horrid flash of Lightning,
the wildness of the Desart, which they had stray’d into, and the little
Hopes they had of being able to get out of it, at least till Day, were
sufficient to have struck Terror in the boldest Heart: _Camilla_ stood in
need of all her Love, to Protect her from the Fears which were beginning
to Assault her; but poor _Fidelio_ felt an inward Horror, which, by this
dreadful Scene encreas’d, made him appear wholly desparate: Wretch that I
am, cry’d he, ’tis for me the Tempest rises! I justly have incurr’d the
wrath of Heaven,---and you who are Innocent, by my accurs’d Presence are
drawn to share a Punishment only due to Crimes like Mine! In this manner
he exclaim’d wringing his Hands in bitter Anguish, and rather _Exposing_
his lovely Face to all the Fury of the Storm, than any way endeavouring
to _Defend_ it: His Lord, and the two generous Lovers, tho’ Harass’d
almost to Death themselves, said all they cou’d to comfort him; the Count
and Monsieur _Frankville_ consider’d his Words, rather as the Effects of
his Indisposition, and the fatigue he endur’d, than remorse for any Crime
he cou’d have been guilty of, and the pity they had for one so young and
innocent, made the cruelty of the Weather more insupportable to them.
At last, after long wandring, and the Tempest still encreasing, one
of the Servants, who was before, was happy enough to explore a Path,
and cry’d out to his Lord with a great deal of Joy, of the Discovery
he had made; they were all of Opinion that it must lead to some House,
because the Ground was beat down, as if with the Feet of Passengers, and
entirely free from Stubble, Stones and stumps of Trees, as the other part
of the Desart they come thro’ was Encumber’d with.
They had not rode very far before they discern’d Lights, the Reader may
imagine the Joy this Sight produc’d, and that they were not slow in
making their approach, Encourag’d by such a wish’d for Signal of Success:
When they came pretty near, they saw by the Number of Lights, which were
dispers’d in several Rooms distant from each other, that it was a very
large and magnificent House, and made no doubt, but that it was the
Country-Seat of some Person of great Quality: The wet Condition they
were in, made them almost asham’d of appearing, and they agreed not to
Discover who they were, if they found they were unknown.
They had no sooner knock’d, than the Gate was immediately open’d by
a Porter, who asking their Business, the Count told him they were
Gentlemen, who had been so Unfortunate to mistake the Road to _Piedmont_,
and desir’d the Owners leave for Refuge in his House, for that Night;
that is a Curtesy, said the Porter, which my Lord never refuses; and in
Confidence of his Assent, I may venture to desire you to alight, and
bid you welcome: They all accepted the Invitation, and were conducted
into a stately Hall, where they waited not long before the Marquess
_De Saguillier_, having been inform’d they appear’d like People of
Condition, came himself to confirm the Character his Servant had given
of his Hospitality. He was a Man perfectly well Bred, and in spite of
the Disadvantages their Fatigue had subjected them to, he saw something
in the Countenance of these Travellers, which commanded his Respect, and
engag’d him to receive them with a more than ordinary Civility.
Almost the first thing the Count desir’d, was, that his Page might be
taken care of; he was presently carry’d to Bed, and _Camilla_ (to whom
the Marquess made a thousand Apologies, that being a Batchellor, he cou’d
not Accommodate her, as he cou’d the Gentlemen) was show’d to a Chamber,
where some of the Maid Servants attended to put her on dry Cloaths.
They were splendidly Entertain’d that Night, and when Morning came,
and they were preparing to take Leave, the Marquess, who was strangely
Charm’d with their Conversation, Entreated them to stay two or three
Days with him, to recover themselves of the Fatigue they had suffer’d:
The Count’s impatience to be at _Paris_, to enquire after his Dear
_Melliora_, wou’d never have permitted him to consent, if he had not
been oblig’d to it, by being told, that _Fidelio_ was grown much worse,
and not in a Condition to Travel; _Frankville_ and _Camilla_ had said
nothing, because they wou’d not Oppose the _Count_’s Inclination, but
were extreamly glad of an Opportunity to rest a little longer, tho sorry
for the Occasion.
The Marquess omitted nothing that might make their Stay agreeable; but
tho’ he had a longing Inclination to know the Names, and Quality of
his Guests, he forbore to ask, since he found they were not free to
discover themselves: The Conversation between these accomplish’d Persons
was extreamly Entertaining, and _Camilla_, tho’ an _Italian_, spoke
_French_ well enough to make no inconsiderable part of it; the Themes of
their Discourse were various, but at last happning to mention Love, the
Marquess spoke of that Passion so feelingly, and express’d himself so
vigorously when he attempted to excuse any of those Errors, it leads its
Votaries into, that it was easy to Discover, he felt the Influence he
endeavour’d to represent.
Night came on again, _Fidelio_’s Distemper encreas’d to that degree,
that they all began to despair of his Recovery, at least they cou’d not
hope it for a long Time, if at all, and Count _D’elmont_ fretted beyond
measure at this unavoidable delay of the progress of his Journey to
that Place, where he thought there was only a possibility of hearing of
_Melliora_: As he was in Bed, forming a thousand various Idea’s, tho’ all
tending to one Object, he heard the Chamber Door unlock, and opening his
Curtains perceiv’d somebody come in; a Candle was burning in the next
Room, and gave Light enough at the opening the Door, to show it was a
Woman, but what Sort of one he cou’d not Discern, nor did he give himself
the trouble of asking who was there, believing it might be one of the
Servants come in to fetch something she wanted, ’till coming pretty near
the Bed, she cry’d twice in a low Voice, are you a Sleep, no, answer’d
he, a little surpriz’d at this Disturbance; what wou’d you have? I come
said she, to talk to you, and I hope you are more a _Chevalier_, than to
prefer a little Sleep, to the Conversation of a Lady, tho’ she Visits you
at Midnight: These words made _D’elmont_ believe he had met with a second
_Ciamara_, and lest he shou’d find the same Trouble with this as he had
done with the former, he resolv’d to put a stop to it at once, and with
an Accent as peevish as he cou’d turn his Voice to, the Conversation of
Ladies reply’d he, is a Happiness I neither Deserve, nor much Desire at
any Time, especially at this; therefore whoever you are, to oblige me,
you must leave me to the freedom of my Thoughts, which at present afford
me matter of Entertainment more suitable to my Humour than any thing
I can find here! Oh Heavens! Said the Lady, is this the Courtly, the
Accomplish’d Count _D’elmont_? So fam’d for Complaisance and Sweetness?
Can it be he, who thus rudely Repels a Lady, when she comes to make him
a Present of her Heart? The Count was very much amaz’d to find he was
known in a Place where he thought himself wholly a Stranger, I perceive,
answer’d he, with more Ill-humour if possible, than before, you are very
well acquainted with my Name, which I shall never deny (tho’ for some
Reasons I conceal’d it) but not at all with my Character, or you wou’d
know, I can esteem the Love of a Woman, only when ’tis _Granted_, and
think it little worth acceptance, _Proffer’d_. Oh unkind! Said she, but
perhaps the sight of me, may inspire you with Sentiments less Cruel: With
these Words she went hastily out of the Room to fetch the Candle she
had left within; and the Count was so much surpriz’d and vex’d at the
Immodesty and Imprudence he believ’d her Guilty of, that he thought he
cou’d not put a greater affront upon her, than her Behaviour deserv’d,
and turn’d himself with his Face the other way, designing to deny her
the satisfaction even of a look; she return’d immediately, and having
set down the Candle pretty near the Bed, came close to it her self, and
seeing how he was laid; this is unkind indeed, said she, ’tis but one
look I ask, and if you think me unworthy of another, I will for ever shun
your Eyes: The Voice in which these Words were deliver’d, for those she
spoke before were in a feign’d Accent, made the Heart-ravish’d _D’elmont_
turn to her indeed, with much more hast, than he had done to avoid her;
those Dear, those well-remember’d sounds infus’d an Extacy, which none
but _Melliora_’s cou’d create; he hear’d---he saw,---’twas she, that very
she, whose Loss he had so much deplor’d, and began almost to despair of
ever being able to Retrieve! Forgetting all Decorum, he flew out of the
Bed, catch’d her in his Arms, and almost stifl’d her with Kisses; which
she returning with pretty near an equal eagerness, you will not chide
me from you now she cry’d? Those who have Experienc’d any part of that
Transport, _D’elmont_ now was in, will know it was impossible for him to
give her any other Answer, than repeating his Caresses; Words were too
poor to Express what ’twas he felt, nor had he time to spare for Speech,
employ’d in a far dearer, softer Oratory, than all the force of Language
cou’d come up to!
But, when at last, to gaze upon her with more freedom, he releas’d her
from that strict Embrace he had held her in, and she blushing, with down
cast Eyes, began to reflect on the Effects of her unbounded passion, a
sudden pang seiz’d on his Soul, and trembling, and convuls’d between
extremity of _Joy_, and extremity of _Anguish_, I find thee _Melliora_,
cry’d he; but Oh, my Angel! Where is it thou art found?---in the House
of the young Amorous _Marquess D’Sanguillier!_ Cease, cease, interrupted
she, your causeless Fears,----where ever I am found, I am,----I can be
only yours.----And if you will return to Bed, I will Inform you, not
only what Accident brought me hither, but also every particular of my
Behaviour since I came.
These Words first put the Count in mind of the Indecency his Transport
had made him Guilty of, in being seen in that manner, and was going
hastily to throw on his Night Gown, when _Melliora_ perceiving his
Intent, and fearing he wou’d take cold, told him she wou’d not stay a
Moment, unless he granted her Request of returning to his Bed, which he,
after having made her sit down on the Side of it, at last consented to:
And contenting himself with taking one of her Hands, and pressing it
between his, close Prisoner in his Bosom, gave her Liberty to begin in
this Manner, the Discovery she had Promis’d.
After the sad Accident of _Alovysa_’s Death, said she, at my return
to the Monastry I found a new _Pensioner_ there; it was the young
_Madamoselle Charlotta D’Mezray_, who being lately left an Orphan, was
entrusted to the Care of our _Abbess_, being her near Relation ’till
her time of Mourning was expir’d, and she shou’d be married to this
Marquess _D’Sanguillier_, at whose House we are; they were Contracted
by their Parents in their Infancy, and nothing but the sudden Death
of her Mother, had put a stop to the Consummation of what, _then_,
they both wish’d with equal Ardour: But alas! Heaven which decreed the
little Beauty I am Mistress of, shou’d be pernicious to my own repose,
ordain’d it so, that this unfaithful Lover, seeing me one Day at the
_Grate_ with _Charlotta_, shou’d fancy he found something in _Me_ more
worthy of creating a Passion, than he had in her, and began to wish
himself releas’d from his Engagement with her, that he might have
Liberty to enter into another, which he imagin’d wou’d be more pleasing:
Neither she, nor I had the least suspicion of his Sentiments, and we
having commenc’d a very great Friendship, she wou’d for the most part,
desire me to partake in the Visits he made her: He still continu’d to
make the same protestations of Affection to her as ever; but if on any
occasion, she but turn’d her Head, or cast her Eyes another way, he wou’d
give me such looks, as, tho’ I then but little regarded, I have since
understood the meaning of, but too well; in this manner he proceeded
for some Weeks, ’till at last he came one Day extreamly out of Humour,
and told _Charlotta_ the occasion of it was, that he had heard she gave
Encouragement to some other Lover; she, amaz’d, as well she might, Avow’d
her Innocence, and endeavour’d to Undeceive him, but he, who resolv’d
not to be convinc’d, at least not to seem as if he was, pretended to be
more enrag’d at what he call’d weak Excuses; said, he was satisfy’d she
was more Guilty, even than he wou’d speak,----that he knew not if it
were consistent with his Honour, ever to see her more.---And in short,
behav’d himself in so unaccountable a manner, that there was no room to
Doubt that he was either the most _Impos’d_ on, or most _Base_ of Men:
It wou’d be endless for me to endeavour to represent poor _Charlotta_’s
affliction. So I shall only say, it was answerable to the Tenderness she
had for him, which, cou’d by nothing be exceeded, but by that, continu’d
she Sighing, and looking Languishingly on him, which contrary to all the
Resolutions I had made, brings _me_ to seek the Arms of my Enchanting
_D’elmont_, to rouze Remembrance of his former Passion! To strengthen my
Idea in his Heart! And Influence him a new with Love and Softness! This
kind Digression made the Count give Truce to his _Curiosity_, that he
might Indulge the Raptures of his _Love_, and raising himself in Bed, and
pressing her slender fine proportioned Body close to his, wou’d permit
her no otherwise, than in this Posture to continue her Discourse.
Several Days resum’d _Melliora_, were past, and we heard nothing of the
Marquess, all which, as he has since told me, were spent in fruitless
Projections to steal me from the Monastry; but at last, by the means of
a _Lay Sister_, he found means to convey a Letter to me; the Contents of
it, as near as I can remember, were these.
[Illustration]
_To the Divine_ MELLIORA.
_’Tis not the falshood of CHARLOTTA, but the Charms of MELLIORA
have produc’d this Change in my Behaviour, do not therefore,
at the reading this, affect a surprize at Effects, which I
am sure cannot be uncommon to such Excellence! Nor accuse an
Inconstancy, which I rather esteem a Virtue than a Vice: To
Change from you indeed wou’d be the highest Sin, as well as
Stupidity: but to Change for you, is what all must, and ought
to do, who boast a Capacity of distinguishing. I love you, Oh
Divinest MELLIORA, I burn, I languish for you in unceasing
Torments, and you wou’d find it impossible for you to condemn
the boldness of this Declaration, if you cou’d be sensible of
the Racks which force me to it, and which must shortly End me,
if not happy enough to be receiv’d_
Your Lover,
D’SANGUILLIER.