_Contains a most shocking instance of infidelity and ingratitude_
Mademoiselle de Roquelair, on finding how far the good-nature of Mrs.
Munden had made her interest herself in her behalf, expressed the
transports of her gratitude in terms which gave some pain to the modesty
of that lady to receive: 'What I have done,' said she, 'is to promote
the cause of virtue; and I hope my endeavours that way will not be lost
on your account.'--'You are all goodness,' replied the other; 'but I
blush to think that, being already indebted for so many favours, I must
still become your petitioner for more: though I have lived fifteen
months in this town, I am a perfect stranger to the greatest part of it,
quite unacquainted with it's customs, and know not where, and in what
manner, to address myself for lodgings. In the midst of my distractions,
I found shelter under your hospitable roof; may I presume to flatter
myself with the continuance of that charitable protection, till I
receive an answer from Mr. Thoughtless?'
Mrs. Munden paused a little at this request; but, thinking it would be
cruel in this distress to have recourse to strangers, and to whom she
could communicate nothing of her mind, made this reply 'Though it would
be highly inconvenient, Madam,' said she, 'for you to remain in my house
for any length of time; yet as, in all probability, your affairs will be
determined in a few days, I would not have you think of leaving me till
you are prepared to leave the kingdom. Please, therefore,' continued
she, 'to make an inventory of what things you have at my brother's, and
I will give orders for their being brought directly hither.'
Mademoiselle de Roquelair was beginning to give some fresh testimonies
of the sense she had of this last obligation; but Mrs. Munden would not
suffer her to proceed; and, pointing to a standish that stood on the
table, desired her to write the memorandums she had mentioned.
'Obedience, Madam, is better than sacrifice,' said the other; and
immediately did as she was directed: after which Mrs. Munden went down
to give the orders she had promised.
She sent this inventory by her own man, and instructed him to procure
persons for bringing thither every thing belonging to Mademoiselle de
Roquelair: but as this could not be done, and that lady dressed, before
the hour of dinner, which was just at hand, she judged it improper she
should appear at table till she could do so with greater decency; she
therefore bid one of the maids prepare something apart, and serve it up
to her in her own chamber.
She then began to consider what she should say to Mr. Munden in relation
to this affair: she knew not but he might already be apprized of what
had passed; or if even he were not so, she thought it would be
impossible to keep her in the house without his privity; so resolved to
be quite open in the affair.
She was right in her conjecture: Mademoiselle de Roquelair had happened
to ring the bell for something she wanted; Mr. Munden hearing it, and
knowing his wife was abroad, asked who was above; and this question
occasioned the man, who was then dressing him, to give an account, as
far as was in his power to do, of the last night's accident.
This a little surprized him, yet not enough to keep him from the Park,
where he constantly walked every day an hour or two before dinner; but
on his return, he immediately interrogated his wife concerning her new
guest; on which she told him, without the least reserve, every
circumstance of this transaction; he listened attentively to what she
said, but testified neither any dislike or approbation of her conduct in
this respect: he said no more to her after she had done speaking; but
behaved with the same sullen silence he had always done since her
adventure with Lord ----; and as soon as dinner was over, went out to
pass the remainder of the day, and best part of the night, according to
custom.
Mrs. Munden's good-nature would not suffer her to go abroad the whole
afternoon; she passed all the hours, till bed-time, with Mademoiselle
Roquelair, and did every thing in her power both to comfort her in the
affliction she was under, and to fortify her in the good resolution she
seemed to have taken: the next morning she received, as she expected,
the following billet from her brother.
'To Mrs. Munden.
Dear Sister,
In compliance with your desires, and to be certain of getting
eternally rid of the sight of a woman who has so much abused the
kindness I had for her, I consent to grant her request of being
enabled to go into a monastery: a friend of mine has great dealings
with a merchant at Bologne; I will see him this afternoon, and pay
into his hands the sum which I am told is sufficient for that
purpose. If you give yourself the trouble to call on me to-morrow
morning, I will give you his order for her receiving it on her
arrival. I cannot think of entering your house while she is in it;
but am always, dear sister, your affectionate brother,
T. THOUGHTLESS.'
Mrs. Munden having imparted the contents of this letter to Mademoiselle
de Roquelair, she seemed as much contented as a person in her
circumstances could be: she dined below that day; and Mr. Munden treated
her with the same politeness and complaisance he always used towards
persons over whom he had no power.
The next morning did not fail of carrying his fair wife to her brother's
about the hour in which she imagined he would expect her; but on the
moment of her entrance, she had the mortification of being accosted by
him in these terms: 'My dear sister,' said he, 'I was just going to send
to you, to prevent your giving yourself this needless trouble. The
gentleman I went to is out of town, and will not return these two days:
so nothing can be done in this woman's affair till he comes back.' She
told him she was extremely sorry; 'Because,' said she, 'delays are
sometimes dangerous: but I hope, my dear brother, no second
considerations will make you frustrate the good intentions of this
unhappy penitent.'--'No, no!' cried he; 'I wish she may persevere in
them as steadfastly as I shall to the promise I have made.' Satisfied
with this assurance, she made her leave, little suspecting, while she
was labouring with all her might in this good office, that cruel and
ungenerous return which was about to be made for her compassion.
Mr. Munden had seen Mademoiselle de Roquelair no more than once; but
that once was sufficient to make him become enamoured--her beauty fired
him--the known wantonness of her inclinations encouraged him--he scarce
doubted of success; but in case of a failure, and if she should even
acquaint his wife with his attempt, her character furnished him with the
pretence of having made it only to try how far her conversion was
sincere.
He therefore hesitated not a moment if he should endeavour the
accomplishment of his desires; and, for the doing so, no time was to be
lost, as she was so suddenly to depart. Mrs. Munden was no sooner gone
out, than he went softly up stairs to the chamber of this too lovely and
less more virtuous stranger: she was sitting in a pensive posture,
leaning her head upon her hand, when he came in; but rose to receive him
with that respect which she thought due from her to the husband of her
protectress.
After the salutations of the morning were over, 'Is it possible,' cried
he, taking one of her hands, and looking earnestly on her face, 'that
such youth, such beauty, charms in such profusion, should be condemned
to a cloyster? No! it cannot be! All the powers of love and pleasure
forbid you to make so unnatural a choice!' Transported and amazed at
hearing him speak in this manner, she could not forbear telling him,
with her eyes, that her thoughts corresponded with his words; but
willing her tongue should preserve the decency of the character she had
assumed, at least till he should make a farther declaration of his
sentiments; 'If I were, indeed,' answered she, 'all that can be
described of beautiful, I could not, sure, be an offering too amiable
for Heaven!'
'Heaven never gave you these perfections,' resumed he, 'to be concealed
in a dark lonesome cell! Those melting lips of yours were never formed
to kiss the feet of a cold lifeless image, or pour forth oraisons to
unhearing saints, but to make blest some warm, some happy he, who knows
and has the power of returning the raptures they bestow!' These last
words were attended with such vehement and repeated pressures of the
lips he praised, as left her no room to doubt the aim of his desires; as
did the manner of her receiving them also convince him of his success.
'But are you in earnest, resolved to be a nun?' replied he. 'Since fate
will have it so,' replied she with a deep sigh, and a look so
languishing and so sweet as pierced his very soul. 'Make me your fate,
then,' cried he impatiently: 'be mine, and not all the saints in the
kalendar shall snatch you from me.'--'You are then--you must be, my
fate!' said she, returning his embrace with equal eagerness: 'you have
the power of fate; and are no less resistless. Henceforth I'll seek no
other heaven but your love--your breast my altar--and your arms my
cell!'
It will be easily supposed that, after this, she refused no liberties he
thought fit to take. Nothing but the last favour was wanting to compleat
his wishes; and to that he would not venture to proceed, for fear of an
interruption: but they agreed to meet at the Portuguese ambassador's
chapel at six o'clock that same evening. Mutual kisses and embraces
having sealed the covenant, he went down to dress, and left her to
compose her countenance against Mrs. Munden's return.
This very wicked woman, who had never any real thoughts of going into a
monastery, and only intended to appropriate the money she expected from
Mr. Thoughtless to such uses as might induce some man of fortune to make
choice of her for a mistress, now gave herself little pain whether he
granted her request or not, imagining she had found in Mr. Munden all
she wished for, or could hope, in a gallant.
She affected, however, to Mrs. Munden, to be under some concern for this
delay of her intended journey; but said she would employ the time she
staid in such acts of devotion as should best prepare her to become a
member of that sacred society which she soon hoped to be among. 'I have
not been,' added she, 'for a long time, at confession; but I will go
this afternoon, and ease my conscience of it's load of guilt.'
Thus impiously did she profane the name of religion, by making it the
veil to cover the most shameful depravities of nature. On the arrival of
the appointed hour, with looks of sanctity, and a heart full of
impurity, she hasted to the place of rendezvous. The punctual Mr. Munden
waited for her at the chapel-door, and conducted her where they had all
the freedom they could wish of indulging their vicious inclinations.
They broke off this amorous intercourse much sooner than either of them
desired; Mademoiselle de Roquelair not being able to find a plausible
excuse to make to Mrs. Munden for staying beyond the time which her
pretended devotions might be reasonably supposed to take up: but, to
atone for this misfortune, a strategem was contrived between them, not
only for their meeting next day, but also for their continuing together
a much longer time. It was thus.
She told Mrs. Munden that the reverend father to whom she had confessed,
informed her that a young lady, of a very worthy family in England,
having passed her year of probation at a monastery in Bologne, and
returned hither only to take an eternal leave of her friends, and of the
world, was now just ready to go back, in order to be initiated. 'To this
family,' added she, 'the good father has offered to introduce me
to-morrow; and if the young lady approves of my being the companion of
her voyage, as he assures me she certainly will, how happy shall I think
myself!'
The truth of all this not being suspected by Mrs. Munden, she
congratulated her upon it. It is easy to deceive the innocent; but, it
must be owned, this wicked woman had subtlety enough to have imposed on
a person more skilled in the artifices of the world than was the amiable
lady on whom she practised it.
But, not to detain the reader's attention on so ungrateful a subject, I
shall only say, that one assignation was still productive of another;
and the credulity of the injured wife served only as a matter of mirth
to the transgressing husband and his guilty partner.
But now the time was come when the subterfuges must necessarily be at an
end, or become too gross not to be seen through. Mr. Thoughtless had
seen his friend--had paid the money into his hands, and received a bill
from him on the merchant at Bologne. When he delivered it to Mrs.
Munden--'Sister,' said he, 'this paper will entitle your guest to the
receipt of three hundred louis-d'ors on her arrival at Bologne: but I
expect you will oblige her to depart immediately; for it is neither
consistent with your reputation to keep her in your house, nor with my
peace of mind that she should continue in the kingdom.' To which she
replied, with a smile, 'That there was nothing more certain than that
his commands, in this point, would be punctually obeyed.'
This lady was rejoiced at having accomplished what she thought so good a
work; but, having perceived in Mademoiselle de Roquelair some abatement
of her first eagerness for a religious life, she thought proper, on
giving her the bill, to repeat to her the words her brother had said on
that account: to which the other coolly answered, 'Your brother, Madam,
need be under no apprehensions of my offending him in this point, or of
giving you any farther trouble.'
This, though no more than what the lovers expected, was yet a dreadful
shock to them both: great part of the time they were together that
evening was taken up in talking of it. Mademoiselle de Roquelair
protested that death was less cruel than being torn from her dear Munden
thus early--thus in the infancy of their happiness; and gave some hints
that she wished he would hire private lodgings for her: but she knew
little of the temper of the man she had to deal with. He loved her as a
mistress, but hated the expence of keeping her as a mistress: he
therefore evaded all discourse on that head; and told her he fancied
that, by pretences such as already had been made, she might still
continue in the house. 'Means, at least,' said he, 'might be found out
to protract our mutual misfortune, and give us more time to consider
what we have to do.'
She agreed, however, to make the experiment; and poor Mrs. Munden was
imposed upon, by some new invention, from one day to another, for
upwards of a week: but, at last, beginning to fear there was something
more at the bottom of these delays than was pretended, and her brother
having sent twice in that time to know if his desires had been complied
with, she resolved at once to put a period to inconveniences which she
thought she could so easily get rid of.
Mademoiselle de Roquelair having staid abroad extremely late one night,
she took the opportunity of her having done so, of speaking more plainly
to her than her good-nature and complaisance had hitherto permitted her
to do: she went up to her chamber next morning; and, with an air which
had something of severity in it, 'You keep odd hours, Madam,' said she,
'for a person who affects to be so great a penitent; but I suppose you
are now prepared to ease me of all concern on your account.'--'I shall
trouble you no longer,' cried the other, 'till the young lady I told you
of is ready to depart.'--'You will do well,' resumed Mrs. Munden, 'to
remain with her till she is so; for, Madam, I must insist on your
removal hence this day.'--'You will not turn me out of doors?' cried
Mademoiselle de Roquelair. 'I hope you will not oblige me to an act so
contrary to my nature,' replied Mrs. Munden. 'Say, rather, contrary to
your power,' returned that audacious woman; and, coming up to her with
the most unparalleled assurance, 'This house, which you forbid me,'
pursued she, 'I think Mr. Munden is the master of; and I shall,
therefore, continue in it till my convenience calls me from it, or he
shall tell me I am no longer welcome!'
Impossible is it to describe, and difficult even to conceive, Mrs.
Munden's astonishment at these words; to hear a woman thus doubly loaded
with guilt and obligations--a woman, who but a few days past had been
prostrate at her feet, imploring pity and protection, now all at once
ungratefully contemning the benefits she had received, and insolently
defying the authority to which she had flown for shelter; all this must
certainly give a shock almost beyond the strength of human reason to
sustain. 'Mr. Munden!' cried the injured fair-one, with a voice hardly
intelligible, 'Mr. Munden!' She could utter no more; but flew down
stairs with such rapidity that her feet scarce touched the steps.
Mr. Munden was not quite ready to go out--she found him in his
dressing-room; and, throwing herself into a chair, half suffocated with
passion, related to him, as well as she was able, the manner in which
she had been treated; to which he replied, with a good deal of
peevishness, 'Pr'ythee, do not trouble me with these idle stories;
Mademoiselle de Roquelair is your guest--I have no concern in your
little quarrels.'--'I hope,' said she, 'you will do me that justice
which every wife has a right to expect, and convince the French
hypocrite that I am too much the mistress of this house for any one to
remain in it without my permission.'--'So you would make me the dupe of
your resentment!' replied he scornfully; 'but positively I shall not do
a rude thing to oblige you or any body else.' In speaking these words,
having now adjusted his dress, he flung out of the room without giving
her time to add any thing farther on a subject he was wholly unprepared
to answer.
What a perplexing whirl of wild imaginations must such a behaviour from
a husband excite in a wife, conscious of having done nothing to provoke
it! Happy was it for her that love had the least share in her
resentment--all her indifference could not enable her to support, with
any degree of patience, so palpable a contempt--she returned directly to
her own chamber; where, shutting herself up, she gave a loose to
agitations too violent for words to represent.