The Third and Last Part. (continued 2)

Frankville.”

These new made Friends having a fellow-feeling of each others Sufferings, as proceeding from one Source, pass’d the time in little else but amorous Discourses, till it was a proper Hour for the Count to perform his Promise, and taking a full Direction from Frankville how to find the House, he left him at his Lodgings to wait his return from Ciamara’s, forming, all the way he went, a thousand Projects to communicate to Camilla for her Escape, he was still extreamly uneasy in his Mind concerning Melliora, and long’d to be in Paris to know the Truth of that Affair, but thought he cou’d not in Honour leave her Brother in this Embarrassment, and resolv’d to make use of all his Wit and Address to perswade Camilla to hazard every thing for Love, and was not a little pleas’d with the Imagination, that he should lay so considerable an obligation on Melliora, as this Service to her Brother wou’d be. Full of these Reflections he found himself in the Portico of that magnificent House he was to enter, and seeing a Crowd of Servants about the Door, desir’d to be brought to the presence of Donna Camilla Fialaso, one of them, immediately conducted him into a stately Room, and leaving him there, told him, the Lady shou’d be made acquainted with his Request; presently after came in a Woman, who, tho’ very Young, seem’d to be in the nature of a Duenna, the Count stood with his Back toward her as she enter’d, but hearing somebody behind him, and turning hastily about, he observ’d she startled at sight of him, and appear’d so confus’d that he knew not what to make of her Behaviour, and when he ask’d if he might speak with Camilla, and said he had a Message to deliver from Cittolini, she made no other Answer than several times, with an amaz’d Accent, Ecchoing the names of Camilla and Cittolini, as if not able to comprehend his Meaning; he was oblig’d to repeat his Words over and over before she cou’d recollect herself enough to tell him, that she wou’d let him know her Lady’s pleasure instantly. She left him in a good deal of Consternation, at the Surprize he perceiv’d the Sight of him had put her into, he form’d a thousand uncertain Guesses what the occasion shou’d be, but the Mistery was too deep for all his Penetration to fathom, and he waited with abundance of Impatience for her return, or the appearance of her Lady, either, of which, he hop’d, might give a Solution to this seeming Riddle.

He attended a considerable time, and was beginning to grow excessive uneasy, at this Delay, when a magnificent Anti-porta being drawn up, he saw thro’ a Glass Door, which open’d into a Gallery, the Duenna approaching: She had now entirely compos’d her Countenance, and with an obliging Smile told him, she wou’d conduct him to her Lady. She led him thro’ several Rooms, all richly furnish’d and adorn’d, but far inferior to the last he came into, and in which he was again left alone, after being assur’d that he should not long be so.

Count D’elmont cou’d not forbear giving Truce to his more serious Reflections, to admire the Beauties of the Place he was in; where e’er he turn’d his Eyes, he saw nothing but was splendidly Luxurious, and all the Ornaments contriv’d in such a manner, as might fitly be a Pattern, to Paint the Palace of the Queen of Love by: The Ceiling was vastly high and beautify’d with most curious Paintings, the Walls were cover’d with Tapestry, in which, most artificially were woven, in various colour’d Silk, intermix’d with Gold and Silver, a great number of Amorous Stories; in one Place he beheld a Naked Venus sporting with Adonis, in another, the Love transform’d Jupiter, just resuming his Shape, and rushing to the Arms of Leda; there, the seeming Chast Diana Embracing her entranc’d Endimion; here, the God of soft Desires himself, wounded with an Arrow of his own, and snatching Kisses from the no less enamour’d Psiche: betwixt every one of these Pieces hung a large Looking-Glass, which reach’d to the top of the Room, and out of each sprung several crystal Branches, containing great Wax-Tapers, so that the number of Lights vy’d with the Sun, and made another, and more glorious Day, than that which lately was withdrawn. At the upper End of this magnificent Chamber, there was a Canopy of Crimson Velvet, richly emboss’d, and trim’d with Silver, the Corners of which were supported by two golden Cupids, with stretch’d out Wings, as if prepar’d to fly; two of their Hands grasp’d the extremity of the Valen, and the other, those nearest to each other, joyn’d to hold a wreath of Flowers, over a Couch, which stood under the Canopy. But tho’ the Count was very much taken at first with what he saw, yet he was too sincere a Lover to be long delighted with any thing in the absence of his Mistress: How Heavenly (said he to himself Sighing) wou’d be this Place, if I expected Melliora here! But Oh! how preferable were a Cottage blest with her, to all this Pomp and Grandeur with any other; this Consideration threw him into a deep Musing, which made him forget either where he was, or the Business which brought him there, till rous’d from it by the dazling Owner of this sumptuous Apartment. Nothing could be more glorious than her Appearance; she was by Nature, a Woman of a most excellent Shape, to which, her desire of Pleasing, had made her add all the aids of Art; she was drest in a Gold and Silver stuff Petticoat, and a Wastcoat of plain blew Sattin, set round the Neck and Sleeves, and down the Seams with Diamonds, and fastned on the Breast, with Jewels of a prodigeous largeness and lustre; a Girdle of the same encompass’d her Waste; her Hair, of which she had great quantity, was black as Jet, and with a studied Negligence, fell part of it on her Neck in careless Ringlets, and the other was turn’d up, and fasten’d here and there with Bodkins, which had pendant Diamonds hanging to ’em, and as she mov’d, glittered with a quivering Blaze, like Stars darting their fires from out a sable Sky; she had a Vail on, but so thin, that it did not, in the least, obscure the shine of her Garments, or her Jewels, only she had contriv’d to double that part of it which hung over her Face, in so many folds, that it serv’d to conceal her as well as a Vizard Mask.

The Count made no doubt but this was the Lady for whom he waited, and throwing off that melancholly Air he had been in, assum’d one, all gay and easy, and bowing low, as he advanc’d to meet her; Madam, said he, if you are that incomparable Camilla, whose Goodness nothing but her Beauty can equalize, you will forgive the intrusion of a Stranger, who confesses himself no other way worthy of the Honour of your Conversation, but by his Desires to serve him who is much more so: A Friend of Cittolini’s, answer’d she, can never want admittance here, and if you had no other Plea, the Name you come in, is a sufficient Warrant for your kind Reception: I hope, resum’d he in a low Voice, and looking round to see if there were no Attendants in hearing, I bring a Better, from Frankville, Madam, the adoring Frankville, I have these Credentials to Justify my Visit; in speaking this, he deliver’d the Letter to her, which she retiring a few Paces from him to read, gave him an opportunity of admiring the Majesty of her Walk, and the agreeable loftiness of her Mein, much more than he had time to do before.

She dwelt not long on the Contents of the Letter, but throwing it carelesly down on a Table which stood near her, turn’d to the Count, and with an Accent which express’d not much Satisfaction; and was it to you, my Lord! said she, that Monsieur Frankville ow’d his Preservation? I was so happy, reply’d he, to have some little hand in it, but since I have known how dear he is to you, think my self doubly blest by Fortune for the means of acting any thing conducive to your Peace: If you imagine that this is so, resum’d she hastily, you are extreamly mistaken, as you will always be, when you believe, where Count D’elmont appears, any other Man seems worthy the regard of a discerning Woman; but, continu’d she, perceiving he look’d surpriz’d, to spare your suspence, and my self the trouble of repeating what you know already, behold who she is, you have been talking to, and tell me now, if Frankville has any Interest in a Heart to which this Face belongs? With these Words she threw off her Vail, and instead of lessening his Amazement, very much encreas’d it, in discovering the Features of the Lady, with whom he had discoursed the Night before in the Garden, He knew not what to think, or how to reconcile to Reason, that Camilla, who so lately lov’d, and had granted the highest Favours to Frankville, shou’d on a sudden be willing, uncourted, to bestow them on another, nor cou’d he comprehend how the same Person shou’d at once live in two several Places, for he conceiv’d the House he was in, was far distant from the Garden which he had been in the Night before.

They both remain’d for some Moments in a profound Silence, the Lady 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

To Monsieur Frankville.

“I have been already so much deceiv’d, that I ought not to 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.

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.

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.

The time in which they had done Writing, immediately brought on that of Violetta’s Appointment, and the Count wou’d needs accompany Monsieur Frankville in this Assignation, saying, he had an acknowledgment to pay to that Lady, which he thought himself oblig’d, in good Manners and Gratitude, to take this Opportunity to do; and the other being of the same Opinion, they went together to St. Peter’s.

When Prayers were done, which, ’tis probable, One of these Gentlemen, if not Both, might think too tedious, they stood up, and looking round, impatiently expected when the promis’d Signal shou’d be given; but among the great Number of Ladies, which pass’d by them, there were very few, who did not stop a little to gaze on these two Accomplish’d Chevaliers, and they were several times Tantaliz’d with an imaginary Violetta, before the real one appear’d. But when the Crowd were almost dispers’d, and they began to fear some Accident had prevented her coming, the long expected Token was let fall, and she who threw it, trip’d hastily away to the farther end of the Collonade, which hapned to be entirely void of Company: The Count and his Companion, were not long behind her, and Monsieur Frankville being the Person chiefly concern’d, address’d himself to her in this manner; With what Words, Madam, said he, can a Man so infinitely Oblig’d, and so desirous to be Grateful, as Frankville, sufficiently make known his admiration of a Generosity like yours? Such an unbounded Goodness, shames all Discription! Makes Language vile, since it affords no Phrase to suit your Worth, or speak the mighty Sense my Soul has of it. I have no other Aim, reply’d she, in what I have done, than Justice; and ’tis only in the proof of your sincerity to Camilla, that I am to be thank’d. Frankville was about to answer with some assurances of his Faith, when the Count stepping forward, prevented him: My Friend, Madam, said he bowing, is most happy in having it in his Power to obey a Command, which is the utmost of his Wishes; but how must I acquit my self of any part of that Return which is due to you, for that generous Care you have been pleas’d to express for the preservation of my Life? There needs no more, interrupted she, with a perceivable alteration in her Voice, than to have seen Count D’elmont, to be interested in his Concerns--she paus’d a little after speaking these Words, and then, as if she thought she had said too much, turn’d hastily to Frankville, the Letter, Monsieur, continu’d she, the Letter,---’tis not impossible but we may be observ’d,---I tremble with the apprehension of a Discovery: Frankville immediately deliver’d it to her, but saw so much Disorder in her Gesture, that it very much surpriz’d him: She trembled indeed, but whether occasioned by any danger she perceiv’d of being taken notice of, or some other secret Agitation she felt within, was then unknown to any but herself, but whatever it was, it transported her so far, as to make her quit the Place, without being able to take any other Leave than a hasty Curtisie, and bidding Frankville meet her the next Morning at Mattins.

Here was a new Cause of Disquiet to D’elmont; the Experience he had of the too fatal influence of his dangerous Attractions, gave him sufficient Reason to fear this young Lady was not insensible of them, and that his Presence was the sole Cause of her Disorder; however, he said nothing of it to Frankville ’till the other mentioning it to him, and repeating her Words, they both joyn’d in the Opinion, that Love had been too busy in her Heart, and that it was the feeling the Effects of it in herself, had inclined her to so much Compassion for the Miseries she saw it inflicted upon others. The Count very well knew that when Desires of this Kind are springing in the Soul, every Sight of the beloved Object, encreases their growth, and therefore, tho’ her generous manner of Proceeding had created in him a very great Esteem, and he wou’d have been pleas’d with her Conversation, yet he ceas’d to wish a farther Acquaintance with her, lest it should render her more Unhappy, and forbore going the next Day to Church with Frankville, as else he wou’d have done.

Violetta fail’d not to come as she had promis’d, but instead of dropping her Handkerchief, as she had done the Evening before, she knelt as close to him as she cou’d, and pulling him gently by the Sleeve, oblig’d him to regard her, who else, not knowing her, wou’d not have suspected she was so near, and slip’d a Note into his Hand, bidding him softly, not take any farther notice of her: He obey’d, but ’tis reasonable to believe, was too impatient to know what the Contents were, to listen with much Attention and Devotion to the remainder of the Ceremony; as soon he was releas’d, he got into a Corner of the Cathedral, where, unobserv’d he might satisfy a Curiosity, which none who Love, will condemn him for, any more than they will for the thrilling Extacy which fill’d his Soul at the Reading these Lines.

To Monsieur Frankville.

For fear I should not have an Opportunity of speaking to you, in safety, I take this Method to inform you, that I have been so Successful in my Negotiation, as to make Camilla repent the Severity of her Sentence, and wish for nothing more than to recall it: you are now entirely justified in her Opinion, by the Artifice which was made use of to Deceive you, and she is, I believe, no less enrag’d at Ciamara, for depriving her of that Letter you sent by the Count, than she was at you for that unkind one, which came to her Hands. She is now under less restraint, since Brione’s Report of her Behaviour to you, and the everlasting Resentment she vow’d, and I have prevail’d on her to accompany me in a Visit I am to make, to morrow in the Evening, to Donna Clara Metteline, a Nun, in the Monastery of St. Augustine, and if you will meet us there, I believe it not impossible but she may be brought to a Confession of all I have discover’d to you of her Thoughts.

The Count’s Letter was of no small Service to you, for tho’ without that Evidence she wou’d have been convinc’d of your Constancy, yet she wou’d hardly have acknowledged she was so! and if he will take the Pains to come with you to morrow I believe his Company will be acceptable, if you think it proper; you may let him know as much from

Violetta.

P.S. I beg a thousand Pardons both of you and the Count, for the abruptness of my Departure last Night; something happen’d to give me a Confusion from which I cou’d not at that time recover, but hope for the future to be more Mistress of my self.

Monsieur Frankville hasted to the Count’s Lodgings, to communicate his good Fortune, but found him in a Humour very unfit for Congratulations; the Post had just brought him a Letter from his Brother, the Chevalier Brillian, the Contents whereof were these.

To Count D’elmont.

My Lord,

’Tis with an inexpressible Grief that I obey the Command you left me, for giving you from Time to time an exact Account of Melliora’s Affairs, since what I have now to acquaint you with, will make you stand in Need of all your Moderation to support it. But, not to keep your Expectation on the Rack, loth as I am, I must inform you, that Melliora is, by some unknown Ravisher stolen from the Monastery----The manner of it, (as I have since learn’d from those who were with her) was thus: As she was walking in the Fields, behind the Cloyster Gardens, accompanied by some young Lady’s, Pensioners there as well as her self, four Men well mounted, but Disguis’d and Muffled, rode up to them, three of them jump’d off their Horses, and while one seiz’d on the defenceless Prey; and bore her to his Arms, who was not alighted, the other two caught hold of her Companions, and prevented the Out-cries they would have made, ’till she was carry’d out of sight, then Mounting again their Horses, immediately lost the amaz’d Virgins all Hopes of recovering her.

I conjure my dearest Brother to believe there has been nothing omitted for the Discovery of this Villany, but in spite of all the Pains and Care we have taken in the search; None of us have yet been happy enough to hear the least Account of her: That my next may bring you more welcome News, is the first wish of

My Lord,

Your Lordship’s most Zealously Affectionate Brother, and Humble Servant

Brillian.

P.S. There are some People here, Malicious enough to Report, that the Design of carrying away Melliora, was contriv’d by you, and that it is in Rome she only can be found. It wou’d be of great Advantage to my Peace, if I cou’d be of the Number of those who believe it, but I am too well acquainted with your Principles to harbour such a Thought. Once more, my dear Lord, for this Time, Adieu.

After the Count had given this Letter to Frankville to read, he told him, he was resolv’d to leave Rome the next Day, that nobody had so great an Interest in her Recovery as himself, that he would Trust the Search of her to no other, and swore with the most dreadful Imprecations he could make, never to rest, but wander, Knight-Errand like, over the whole World ’till he had found her.

Tho’ Monsieur Frankville was extreamly concern’d at what had happen’d to his Sister, yet he endeavour’d to disswade the Count from leaving Rome, ’till he knew the result of his own Affair with Camilla; but all his Arguments were for a long time ineffectual, ’till, at last, showing him Violetta’s Letter, he prevail’d on him to defer his Journey ’till they had first seen Camilla, on Condition, that if she persisted in her Rigour, he shou’d give over any further fruitless Solicitations, and accompany him to Paris: This Frankville promis’d to perform, and they pass’d the time in very uneasy and impatient Cogitations, ’till the next Day about Five in the Evening they prepar’d for the Appointment.

Count D’elmont and his longing Companion, were the first at the Rendezvous, but in a very little while they perceiv’d two Women coming towards them: The Idea of Camilla was always too much in Frankville’s Thoughts, not to make him know her, by that charming Air (which he so much ador’d her for) tho’ she was Veil’d never so closely, and the Moment he had sight of them, Oh Heaven (cry’d he to D’elmont) yonder she comes, that,----that my Lord, is the divine Camilla, as they came pretty near, she that indeed prov’d to be Camilla, was turning on one Side, in order to go to the Grate where she expected the Nun. Hold! Hold Donna Camilla, cry’d Violetta, I cannot suffer you shou’d pass by your Friends with an Air so unconcern’d, if Monsieur Frankville has done any thing to merit your Displeasure, my Lord the Count certainly deserves your Notice, in the Pains he has taken to undeceive you. One so much a Stranger as Count D’elmont is, answer’d she, may very well excuse my Thanks for an explanation, which had he been acquainted with me he would have spar’d. Cruel Camilla! Said Frankville, is then the knowledge of my Innocence unwelcome?---Am I become so hateful, or are you so chang’d, that you wish me guilty, for a justification of your Rigour? If it be so, I have no Remedy but Death, which tho’ you depriv’d me of, the last time I saw you, I now can find a Thousand means to compass; he pronounc’d these Words in so Tender, yet so resolv’d an Accent; that Camilla cou’d not conceal part of the Impression they made on her, and putting her Handkerchief to her Eyes, which in spite of all she had done to prevent it, overflow’d with Tears; talk not of Death, said she, I am not Cruel to that degree, Live Frankville, Live!----but Live without Camilla! Oh, ’tis impossible! Resum’d he, the latter part of your Command entirely destroys the first.---Life without your Love, would be a Hell, which I confess my Soul’s a Coward, but to think of.

The Count and Violetta were Silent all this Time, and perceiving they were in a fair way of Reconciliation, thought the best they cou’d do to forward it, was to leave ’em to themselves, and walking a few Paces from them; You suffer my Lord, said the, for your Generosity in accompanying your Friend, since it condemns you to the Conversation of a Person, who has neither Wit, nor Gaiety sufficient to make her self Diverting. Those, reply’d he, who wou’d make the Excellent Violetta a Subject of Diversion, ought never to be blest with the Company of any, but such Women who merit not a serious Regard: But you indeed, were your Soul capable of descending to the Follies of your Sex, wou’d be extreamly at a Loss in Conversation so little Qualify’d as mine, to please the Vanities of the Fair; and you stand in need of all those more than Manly Virtues you possess, to pardon a Chagreen, which even your Presence cannot Dissipate: If it cou’d, interrupted she, I assure your Lordship, I shou’d much more rejoice in the happy Effects of it on you, than Pride my self in the Power of such an Influence--And yet continu’d she with a Sigh, I am a very Woman, and if free from the usual Affectations and Vanities of my Sex, I am not so from Faults, perhaps, less worthy of forgiveness: The Count cou’d not presently resolve what reply to make to these Words; he was unwilling she should believe he wanted Complaisance, and afraid of saying any thing that might give room for a Declaration of what he had no Power of answering to her wish; but after the consideration of a Moment or two, Madam, said he, tho’ I dare not Question your Sincerity in any other Point, yet you must give me leave to disbelieve you in this, not only, because, in my Opinion, there is nothing so contemptibly ridiculous as that self sufficiency, and vain desire of pleasing, commonly known by the Name of Coquetry, but also, because she who escapes the Contagion of this Error, will not without much difficulty be led into any other: Alas my Lord, cry’d Violetta, how vastly wide of Truth is this Affection? That very foible, which is most pernicious to our Sex, is chiefly by Coquetry prevented: I need not tell you that ’tis Love I mean, and as blamable as you think the one, I believe the other wou’d find less favour from a Person of your Lordship’s Judgment: How Madam, interrupted the Count, pretty warmly, have I the Character of a Stoick?---Or do you, imagine that my Soul, is compos’d that course Stuff, not to be capable of receiving, or approving a Passion, which, all the Brave, and generous think it their glory to Profess, and which can only give refin’d delight, to Minds enobled.----But I perceive, continu’d he growing more cool, I am not happy enough in your Esteem, to be thought worthy the Influence of that God. Still you mistake my Meaning, said Violetta, I doubt not of your Sensibility, were there a possibility of finding a Woman worthy of Inspiring you with soft Desires; and if that shou’d ever happen, Love wou’d be so far from being a weakness, that it wou’d serve rather as an Embelishment to your other Graces; it’s only when we stoop to Objects below our Consideration, or vainly wing our wishes to those above our Hopes, that makes us appear ridiculous or contemptible; but either of these is a Folly which,----which the incomparable Violetta, interrupted D’elmont, never can be guilty of: You have a very good Opinion of my Wit resum’d she, in a melancholly Tone, but I shou’d be much happier than I am, if I were sure I cou’d secure my self from doing any thing to forfeit it: I believe, reply’d the Count there are not many things you have less Reason to apprehend than such a Change; and I am confident were I to stay in Rome as many Ages, as I am determin’d to do but Hours, I shou’d, at last, leave it, with the same Esteem and Admiration of your singular Vertues, as I now shall do. Violetta cou’d not prevent the Disorder these Words put her into, from discovering it self in the Accent of her Voice, when, How! My Lord, said she, are we then to lose you?---Lose you in so short a Time? As the Count was about to answer, Frankville and Camilla joyn’d them, and looking on Frankville, if any Credit, said he, may be given to the Language of the Eyes, I am certain yours speak Success, and I may congratulate a Happiness you lately cou’d not be persuaded to hope; had I a thousand Eyes, cry’d the transported Lover, a thousand Tongues, they all wou’d be but insignificant to express the Joy!----the unbounded Extacy, my Soul is full of,----but take the mighty Meaning in one Word,----Camilla’s mine---for ever mine!---the Storm is past, and all the sunny Heaven of Love returns to bless my future Days with ceaseless Raptures: Now, my Lord, I am ready to attend you in your Journey, this Bright! This beauteous Guardian Angel, will partake our Flight! And we have nothing now to do, but to prepare with secrecy and speed fit means for our Escape. As soon as Frankville had left off speaking, Count D’elmont addressing himself to Camilla, made her abundance of Retributions, for the happiness she gave his Friend, which she receiving with a becoming Chearfulness, and unaffected Gaiety, I am afraid said she, your Lordship will think a Woman’s Resolution is, henceforth, little worth regarding; but, continu’d she, taking Violetta by the Hand, I see well, that this unfaithful Creature, has betray’d me, and to punish her Infidelity, will, by leaving her, put it out of her Power to deceive my Confidence again: Violetta either did not hear, or was not in a condition to return her Raillery, nor the Praises which the Count and Monsieur Frankville concurr’d in of her Generosity, but stood motionless and lost in Thought, till Camilla seeing it grow towards Night, told the Gentlemen, she thought it best to part, not only to avoid any Suspicion at Home of their being out so long, but also that the others might order every thing proper for their Departure, which it was agreed on between Frankville and her, should be the next Night, to prevent the Success of those mischievous Designs she knew Ciamara and Cittolini were forming, against both the Count and Monsieur Frankville.

Matters being thus adjusted to the entire Satisfaction of the Lovers, and not in a much less proportion to the Count, they all thought it best to avoid making any more Appointments till they met to part no more; which was to be at the Wicket at dead of Night. When the Count took leave of Violetta, this being the last time he cou’d expect to see her; she was hardly able to return his Civilities, and much less to answer those which Frankville made her, after the Count had turn’d from her to give him way; both of them guess’d the Cause of her Confusion, and D’elmont felt a concern in observing it, which nothing but that for Melliora cou’d surpass.

The next Day found full Employment for them all; but the Count, as well as Frankville, was too impatient to be gone, to neglect any thing requisite for their Departure, there was not the least particular wanting, long before the time they were to wait at the Wicket for Camilla’s coming forth: The Count’s Lodging being the nearest, they stay’d there, watching for the long’d for Hour; but a little before it arriv’d, a Youth, who seem’d to be about 13 or 14 Years of Age, desir’d to be admitted to the Count’s presence, which being granted, pulling a Letter out of his Pocket, and blushing as he approach’d him: I come my Lord, said he, from Donna Violetta, the Contents of this will inform you on what Business; but lest the Treachery of others, shou’d render me suspected, permit me to break it open, and prove it carries no Infection: The Count look’d earnestly on him while he spoke, and was strangely taken with the uncommon Beauty and Modesty which he observ’d in him: You need not give your self the trouble of that Experiment, answer’d he, Donna Violetta’s Name, and your own engaging Aspect, are sufficient Credentials, if I were liable to doubt; in saying this, he took the Letter, and full of Fears that some Accident had happen’d to Camilla, which might retard their Journey, hastily read over these Lines.

To the Worthy Count D’elmont.

My Lord,

If any Part of that Esteem you Profess’d to have for me, be real, you will not deny the Request I make you to accept this Youth, who is my Relation, in Quality of a Page: He is inclin’d to Travel, and of all Places, France is that which he is most desirous of going to: If a diligent Care, a faithful Secresy, and an Unceasing watchfulness to please, can render him acceptable to your Service, I doubt not but he will, by those, Recomend himself, hereafter: In the mean Time beg you will receive him on my Word: And if that will be any Inducement to prejudice you in his Favour, I assure you, that tho’ he is one degree nearer in Blood to my Father, he is by many in Humour and Principles to

Violetta.

P.S. May Health Safety and Prosperity attend you in your Journey, and all the Happiness you wish for, crown the End.

The Young Fidelio, for so he was call’d, cou’d not wish to be receiv’d with greater Demonstrations of Kindness than those the Count gave him: And perceiving that Violetta had trusted him with the whole Affair of their leaving Rome in private, doubted not of his Conduct, and consulted with him, who they found knew the Place perfectly well, after what manner they should Watch, with the least danger of being discover’d, for Camilla’s opening the Wicket: Frankville was for going alone, lest if any of the Servants shou’d happen to be about, one Person would be less liable to suspicion, than it a Company were seen; the Count thought it most proper to go all together, remembring Frankville of the danger he had lately scap’d, and might again be brought into; but Fidelio told them, he wou’d advise that they two should remain conceal’d in the Portico, of the Convent of St. Francis, while himself wou’d watch alone at the Wicket for Camilla, and lead her to them, and then afterwards they might go altogether to that Place where the Horses and Servants shou’d attend them; the Page’s Counsel was approv’d by both of them, and the time being arriv’d, what they had contriv’d was immediately put in Execution.

Every thing happen’d according to their Desire, Camilla got safely to the Arms of her impatient Lover, and they all taking Horse, rode with such Speed, as some of them wou’d have been little able to bear, if any thing less than Life and Love had been at Stake.

Their eager wishes, and the goodness of their Horses brought them, before Day-break many Miles from Rome; but tho’ they avoided all high Roads, and travell’d cross the Country to prevent being met, or overtook by any that might know them, yet their desire of seeing themselves in a Place of Security was so great that they refus’d to stop to take any Refreshment ’till the next Day was almost spent; but when they were come into the House where they were to lye that Night, not all the fatigue they had endur’d, kept the Lovers from giving and receiving all the Testimonies imaginable of mutual Affection.

The sight of their Felicity added new Wings to Count D’elmont’s impatience to recover Melliora, but when he consider’d the little probability of that hope, he grew inconsolable, and his new Page Fidelio, who lay on a Pallet in the same Room with him, put all his Wit, of which he had no small Stock, upon the stretch to divert his Sorrows, he talk’d to him, sung to him, told him a hundred pretty Stories, and, in fine, made good the Character Violetta had given him so well, that the Count look’d on him as a Blessing sent from Heaven to lessen his Misfortunes, and make his Woes sit easy.

They continu’d Travelling with the same Expedition as when they first set out, for three or four Days, but then, believing themselves secure from any Pursuit, began to slacken their Pace, and make the Journey more delightful to Camilla and Fidelio, who not being accustomed to ride in that manner, wou’d never have been able to support it, if the strength of their Minds, had not by far, exceeded that of their Bodies.

They had gone so much about, in seeking the By-roads, that they made it three times as long before they arriv’d at Avigno, a small Village on the Borders of Italy, as any, that had come the direct way wou’d have done; but the Caution they had observ’d, was not altogether needless, as they presently found.

A Gentleman who had been a particular Acquaintance of Monsieur 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.