Chapter VI: Part 6

Among the concourse of nobility and gentry, whom merely the love of pleasure had drawn hither, and for that end were continually forming parties, Melanthe never failed of making one either in one company or other: Louisa, whom that lady still treated with her former kindness, or rather with an increase of it, was also seldom absent, and when she was so, the fault was wholly her own inclination: but in truth, that hurry of incessant diversion, which at first had seemed so ravishing to her young and unexperienced mind, began, by a more perfect acquaintance with it, to grow tiresome to her, and she rather chose sometimes to retire with a favourite book into her closet, than to go to the most elegant entertainment.

It is certain, indeed, that her disposition was rather inclined to serious than the contrary, and that, joined with the reflections which her good understanding was perpetually presenting her with, on the uncertainty of her birth, the precariousness of her dependance, and her enforced quitting the only person from whom she could expect the means of any solid establishment in the world, had rendered her sometimes extremely thoughtful, even in the midst of those pleasures that are ordinarily most enchanting to one of her sex and age. But as she never was elated with the respect paid to her supposed condition, so she never was mortified with the consciousness of her real one, to a behaviour such as might have degraded the highest birth; neither appearing to expect it, or be covetous of honours, nor meanly ashamed of accepting them when offered. And while by this prudent management she secured herself from any danger of being insulted whenever it should be known who she was, she also gave no occasion for any one to make too deep an enquiry into her descent or fortune.

But now the time was arrived when those deficiencies gave her more anxiety than hitherto they had done; and love in one moment filled her with those repinings at her fate, which neither vanity or ambition would ever have had power to do.

Melanthe here, as at Vienna, received the visits of all whose birth, fortune, or accomplishments, gave them a pretence; but there was none who paid them so frequently, or which she encouraged with so much pleasure as those of the count de Bellfleur, a French nobleman belonging to the above-mentioned prince of Conti: she often told Louisa, when they were alone, that there was something in the air and manner of behaviour of this count, which had so perfect a resemblance with that of Henricus, that tho' it reminded her of that once dear and perfidious man, she could not help admiring and wishing a frequent sight of him. This was spoke at her first acquaintance with him; but after some little time she informed her, that he had declared a passion for her. He is not only like Henricus in his person, said she, but appears to have the same inclinations also:--he pretends to adore me, continued she with a sigh, and spares no vows nor presents to assure me of it:--something within tempts me to believe him, and yet I fear to be a second time betrayed.

Ah! madam, cried Louisa, in the sincerity of her heart, I beseech you to be cautious how you too readily give credit to the protestations of a sex, who, by the little observations I have made, take a pride in deceiving ours;--besides, the count de Bellfleur is of a nation where faith, I have heard, is little to be depended on.

Those who give them that character, replied Melanthe, do them an infinite injustice:--in politics, I allow, they have their artifices, their subterfuges, as well as in war; but then they put them in practice only against their enemies, or such as are likely to become so:--wherever they love, or have a friendship, their generosity is beyond all bounds.--

She pursued this discourse with a long detail of all she had ever read or heard in the praise of the French, and did not forget to speak of the prince of Conti as an instance of the gallant spirit with which that people are animated.

Louisa knew her temper, and that it would be in vain to urge any thing in contradiction to an inclination she found she was resolved to indulge; but she secretly trembled for the consequence, the count having said many amorous things to herself before he pretended any passion for Melanthe; and tho' he had of late desisted on finding how little she was pleased with them, yet that he had done so was sufficient to convince her he was of a wavering disposition. Melanthe was not, however, to be trusted with this secret; she loved him, and jealousy, added to a good share of vanity, would, instead of engaging any grateful return for a discovery of that nature, have made her hate the person he had once thought of as worthy of coming in any competition with herself. She therefore indeed thought it best not to interfere in the matter, but leave the event wholly to chance.

The evening on the day in which this discourse had past between them, they went to a ball, to which they had been invited by one of the Magnifico's. The honour of the prince's company had been requested; but he excused himself on account, as it was imagined, of his being engaged with a certain German lady, who also being absent, gave room for this conjecture: most of the gentlemen who had followed his highness from France were there, among whom was the count de Bellfleur, and a young gentleman called monsieur du Plessis, who, by a fall from his horse, had been prevented from appearing in public since his arrival. The gracefulness of his person, the gallant manner in which he introduced himself, and the brilliant things he said to the ladies, on having been so long deprived of the happiness he now enjoyed, very much attracted the admiration of the company; but Louisa in particular thought she had never seen any thing so perfectly agreeable: a sympathy of sentiment, more than accident, made him chuse her for his partner in a grand dance then leading up; and the distinction now paid her by him gave her a secret satisfaction, which she had never known before on such an occasion, tho' often singled out by persons in more eminent stations.

The mind which, whenever agitated by any degree of pain or pleasure, never fails to discover itself in the eyes, now sparkled in those of Louisa with an uncommon lustre, nor had less influence over all her air:--her motions always perfectly easy, gentle and graceful, especially in dancing, were now more spirituous, more alert than usual; and she so much excelled herself, that several, who had before praised her skill in this exercise, seemed ravished, as if they had seen something new and unexpected:--her partner was lavish in the testimonies of his admiration, and said, she as much excelled the ladies of his country, as they had been allowed to excel all others.

The encomiums bestowed on her, and more particularly those she received from him, still added fresh radiance to her eyes, and at the same time diffused a modest blush in her checks which heightened all her charms.--Never had she appeared so lovely as at this time; and the count de Bellfleur, in spight of his attachment to Melanthe, felt in himself a strong propensity to renew those addresses which her reserved behaviour alone had made him withdraw and carry to another; but the lady to whom for some days past he had made a shew of devoting himself was present, and he was ashamed to give so glaring an instance of his infidelity, which must in all probability render him the contempt of both.

This night, however, lost Melanthe the heart she had thought herself so secure of; but little suspecting her misfortune, she treated the inconstant count with a tenderness he was far from deserving; and having transplanted all the affection she once had for Henricus on this new object, told him, at a time that such discovery was least welcome to him, that she was not insensible of his merit, nor could be ungrateful to his passion, provided she could be convinced of the sincerity of it. He had gone too far with her now to be able to draw back, therefore could not avoid repeating the vows he before had made, tho' his heart was far from giving any asient to what his tongue was obliged to utter; but blinded by her own desires, she perceived not the change in his, and appointed him to come the next day to her lodgings, promising to be denied to all other company, that she might devote herself entirely to him.

It is possible he was so lost in his passion for Louisa, as not to be sensible of the condescension made him by Melanthe; but it is certain, by the sequel of his behaviour, that he was much less so than he pretended.

The ball being ended, these ladies carried with them very different emotions, tho' neither communicated to the other what she felt. Melanthe had a kind of awe for those virtuous principles she observed in Louisa, tho' so much her inferior and dependant, and was ashamed to confess her liking of the count should have brought her to such lengths; not that she intended to keep it always a secret from her, but chose she should find it out by degrees; and these thoughts so much engrossed her, that she said little to her that night. Louisa, for her part, having lost the presence of her agreeable partner, was busy in supplying that deficiency with the idea of him; so that each having meditations of her own of the most interesting nature, had not leisure to observe the thoughtfulness of the other, much less to enquire the motive of it.

One of the great reasons that we find love so irresistable, is, that it enters into the heart with so much subtilty, that it is not to be perceived till it has gathered too much strength to be repulsed. If Louisa had imagined herself in any danger from the merits of monsieur du Plessis, she would at least have been less easily overcome by them:--she had been accustomed to be pleased with the conversation of many who had entertained her as he had done, but thought no more of them, or any thing they said, when out of their company; but it was otherways with her now: not a word he had spoke, not a glance he had given, but was imprinted in her mind:--her memory ran over every little action a thousand and a thousand times, and represented all as augmented with some grace peculiar to himself, and infinitely superior to any thing she had ever seen:--not even sleep could shut him out;--thro' her closed eyes she saw the pleasing vision; and fancy, active in the cause of love, formed new and various scenes, which to her waking thoughts were wholly strangers.

Melanthe also past the night in ideas which, tho' experienced in, were not less ravishing: she was not of a temper to put any constraint on her inclinations; and having entertained the most amorous ones for the count de Bellfleur, easily overcame all scruples that might have hindered the gratification of them:--her head ran on the appointment she had made him:--the means she would take to engage his constancy,--resolved to sell the reversion of her jointure and accompany him to France, and flattered herself with the most pleasing images of a long series of continued happiness in the arms of him, who was now all to her that Henricus ever had been.

Full of these meditations she rose, and soon after received from the subject of them a billet, containing these words:

_To the charming_ MELANTHE.

MADAM,

"Tho' the transporting promise you made me of refusing admittance to all company but mine, is a new instance of your goodness, yet I cannot but think we should be still more secure from interruption at a place I have taken care to provide. Might I therefore hope you would vouchsafe to meet me about five in the evening at the dome of St. Mark, I shall be ready with a Gondula to conduct you to a recess, which seems formed by the god of love himself for the temple of his purest offerings, than which which none can be offered with greater passion and sincerity than those of the adorable Melanthe's

_Most devoted, and Everlasting Slave_, DE BELLFLEUR.

_P.S._. To prevent your fair friend Louisa from any suspicion on account of being left at home, I have engaged a gentleman to make her a visit in form, just before the time of your coming out:--favour me, I beseech you, with knowing if my contrivances in both these points have the sanction of your approbation."

Tho' Melanthe, as may have been already observed in the foregoing part of her character, was no slave to reputation in England, and thought herself much less obliged to be so in a place where she was a stranger, and among people who, when she once quitted, she might probably never see again, yet she looked on this caution in her lover as a new proof of his sincerity and regard for her. She was also fond of every thing that had an air of luxury, and doubted not to find the elegance of the French taste in the entertainment he would cause to be prepared for her reception, therefore hesitated not a moment to send him the following answer:

_To the engaging count_ DE BELLFLEUR.

"Sensible, as you are, of the ascendant your merits have gained over me, you cannot doubt of my compliance with every thing that seems reasonable to you:--I will not fail to be at the place you mention; but oh! my dear count, I hope you will never give me cause to repent this step;--if you should, I must be the most miserable of all created beings; but I am resolved to believe you are all that man ought to be, or that fond tenacious woman can desire; and in that confidence attend with impatience the hour in which there shall be no more reserve between us, and I be wholly yours.

MELANTHE."

Thus every thing being fixed for her undoing, she spent the best part of the day in preparing for the rendezvous: nothing was omitted in the article of dress, which might heighten her charms and secure her conquest:--the glass was consulted every moment, and every look and various kind of languishment essayed, in order to continue in that which she thought would most become the occasion. As she ordinarily past a great deal of time in this employment, Louisa was not surprized that she now wasted somewhat more than usual; and the discourse they had together while she was dressing, and all the time of dinner, being very much on the ball and the company who were at it, her thoughts were so much taken up with the remembrance of du Plessis, that she perceived not the hurry of spirits which would else have been visible enough to her in all the words and motions of the other, and which increased in proportion as the hour of her appointment drew nearer.

At length it arrived, and a servant came into the room and acquainted Louisa a gentleman desired to speak with her; she was a little surprized, it being usual for all those who visited there to expect their reception from Melanthe; but that lady, who doubted not but it was the same person the count had mentioned in his letter, prevented her from saying any thing, by immediately giving orders for the gentleman to be admitted.

But with what strange emotions was the heart of Louisa agitated, when she saw monsieur du Plessis come into the room! and after paying his respects to Melanthe in the most submissive manner, accosted her, with saying he took the liberty of enquiring of her health after the fatigue of the last night; but, added he, the question, now I have the happiness of seeing you, is altogether needless; those fine eyes, and that sprightly air, declare you formed for everlasting gaiety, and that what is apt to throw the spirits of others into a languor, serves but to render yours more sparkling.

Louisa, in spite of the confusion she felt within, answered this compliment with her accustomed ease; and being all seated, they began to enter into some conversation concerning the state with which the Magnifico's of Venice are served, the elegance with which they entertain strangers, and some other topics relating to the customs of that republic, when all on a sudden Melanthe starting up, cried, bless me! I had forgot a little visit was in my head to make to a monastery hard by:--you will excuse me, monsieur, continued she, I leave your partner to entertain you, and fancy you two may find sufficient matter of conversation without a third person. She had no sooner spoke this than she went out of the room, and left Louisa at a loss how to account for this behaviour, as she had not before mentioned any thing of going abroad. She would have imagined her vanity had been picqued that monsieur du Plessis had particularized her in this visit; but as she seemed in perfect good humour at going away, and knew she thought it beneath her to put any disguise on her sentiments, she was certain this sudden motion must have proceeded from some other cause, which as yet she could form no conjecture of.

This deceived lady, however, was no sooner out of the room, than monsieur du Plessis drawing nearer to Louisa, how hard is my fate, madame, said he, in a low voice, that I am compelled to tell you any other motive than my own inclination has occasioned my waiting on you:--heaven knows it is an honour I should have sought by the lowest submissions, and all the ways that would not have rendered me unworthy of it; but I now come, madame, not as myself, but as the ambassador of another, and am engaged by my word and honour to plead a cause which, if I succeed in, must be my own destruction.

Louisa was in the utmost consternation at the mystery which seemed contained in these words: she looked earnestly upon him while he was uttering the latter part, and saw all the tokens of a serious perplexity in his countenance, as well as in the accents with which he delivered them; but not being willing to be the dupe of his diversion, thought it best to answer as to a piece of railery, and told him, laughing, she imagined this was some new invention of the frolics of the season, but that she was a downright English-woman, understood nothing beyond plain speaking, and could no ways solve the riddle he proposed.

What I say, may doubtless appear so, madame; replied she, and I could wish it had not been my part to give the explanation; but I cannot dispense with the promise I have made, and must therefore acquaint you with the history of it.

After the ball, continued he, monsieur the count de Bellfleur desired me to accompany him to his lodgings, and, as soon as we were alone, told me, he had a little secret to acquaint me with, but that, before he revealed it, he must have the promise of my assistance. As he spoke this with a gay and negligent air, I imagined it a thing of no great consequence, or if it were, he was a man of too much honour, and also knew me too well to desire or expect I would engage in any thing unbecoming that character: indeed I could think of nothing but an amour or a duel, tho' I was far from being able to guess of what service I could be to him in the former. I was, however, unwarily drawn in to give my word, and he then made me the confident of a passion, which, he said, had received its birth from the first moment he beheld the Belle Angloise, for by that term, pursued he, bowing, he distinguished the adorable Louisa: that he had made some discovery of his flame, but that finding; himself rejected, as he thought, in too severe a manner, and without affording him opportunity to attest his sincerity, he had converted his addresses, tho' not his passion, to a lady who, he perceived, had the care of her, acting in this manner, partly thro' picque at your disdain, and partly to gratify his eyes with the sight of you, which he has reason to fear you had totally deprived him of but for this stratagem. He confessed to me that he found the object of his pretended ardours infinitely more kind than she who inspires the real ones: but this gratification of his vanity is of little consequence to his peace;--he engaged me to attend you this day, to conjure you to believe his heart is incapable of being influenced by any other charms, and whatever he makes shew of to Melanthe, his heart is devoted wholly to you,--begs you to permit him to entertain you without the presence of that lady, the means of which he will take care to contrive; and charged me to assure you, that there is no sacrifice so great, but he will readily offer it to convince you of the sincerity of his attachment.

This, madame, added he, is the unpleasing task my promise bound me to perform, and which I have acquitted myself of with the same pain that man would do who, by some strange caprice of fate, was constrained to throw into the sea the sum of all his hopes.

The indignation which filled the virtuous foul of Louisa, while he was giving her this detail of the count's presumption, falsehood, and ingratitude, prevented her from giving much attention to the apology with which he concluded. Never, since the behaviour of mr. B----n at mrs. C--g--'s, had she met with any thing that she thought so much merited her resentment:--so great was her disdain she had not words to express it, but by some tears, which the rising passion forced from her eyes:--Heaven! cried she, which of my actions has drawn on me this unworthy treatment?--This was all she was able to utter, while she walked backward and forward in the room endeavouring to compose herself, and form some answer befitting of the message.

Monsieur du Plessis looked on her all this while with admiration: all that seemed lovely in her, when he knew no more of her than that she was young and beautiful, was now heightened in his eyes almost to divine, by that virtuous pride which shewed him some part of her more charming mind. What he extremely liked before, he now almost adored; and having, by the loose manner in which the count had mentioned these two English ladies, imagined them women of not over-rigid principles, now finding his mistake, at least as concerning one of them, was so much ashamed and angry with himself for having been the cause of that disorder he was witness of, that he for some moments was equally at a loss to appease, as she who felt was to express it.

But being the first that recovered presence of mind; madame, I beseech you, said he, involve not the innocent with the guilty:--I acknowledge you have reason to resent the boldness of the count; but I am no otherwise a sharer in his crime than in reporting it; and if you knew the pain it gave my heart while I complied with the promise I was unhappily betrayed into, I am sure you would forgive the misdemeanor of my tongue.

Sir, answered she, I can easily forgive the slight opinion one so much a stranger to me as yourself may have of me; but monsieur the count has been a constant visitor to the lady I am with, ever since our arrival at Venice; and am very certain he never found any thing in my behaviour to him or any other person, which could justly encourage him to send me such a message:--a message, indeed, equally affrontive to himself, since it shews him a composition of arrogance, vanity, perfidy, and every thing that is contemptible in man.--This, sir, is the reply I send him, and desire you to tell him withal, that if he persists in giving me any farther trouble of this nature, I shall let him know my sense of it in the presence of Melanthe.

Monsieur du Plessis then assured her he would be no less exact in delivering what she said, than he had been in the observance of his promise to the other, and conjured her to believe he should do it with infinite more satisfaction. He then made use of so many arguments to prove, that a man of honour ought not to falsify his word, tho' given to an unworthy person, that she was at last won to forgive his having undertaken to mention any thing to her of the nature he had done.

Indeed, the agitations she had been in were more owing to the vexation that monsieur du Plessis was the person employed, than that the count had the boldness to apply to her in this manner; but the submission she found herself treated with by the former, convincing her that he had sentiments very different from those the other had entertained of her, rendered her more easy, and she not only forgave his share in the business which had brought him there, but also permitted him to repeat his visits, on condition he never gave her any cause to suspect the mean opinion the count had of her conduct had any influence on him.

CHAP. XIII.

_Louisa finds herself very much embarrassed by Melanthe's imprudent behaviour. Monsieur du Plessis declares an honourable passion for her: her sentiments and way of acting on that occasion_.

After the departure of monsieur du Plessis, Louisa fell into a serious consideration of what had passed between them: not all the regard, which she could not hinder herself from feeling for that young gentleman, nor the pleasure she took in reflecting on the respect he paid her, made her unmindful of what she owed Melanthe: the many obligations she had received from her, and the friendship she had for her in return, made her think she ought to acquaint her with the baseness of the count de Bellfleur, in order to prevent an affection which she found she had already too much indulged from influencing her to grant him any farther favours; but this she knew was a very critical point to manage, and was not without some apprehensions, which afterward she experienced were but too well grounded; that when that lady found herself obliged to hate the man she took pleasure in loving, she would also hate the woman who was the innocent occasion of it. Few in the circumstances Louisa was, but would have been swayed by this consideration, and chose rather to see another become the prey of perfidy and deceit, than fall the victim of jealousy herself; but the generosity of her nature would not suffer it to have any weight with her, and she thought she could be more easy under any misfortunes the discovery might involve her in, than in the consciousness of not having discharged the obligations of duty and gratitude in revealing what seemed so necessary to be known.

With this resolution, finding Melanthe was not come home, she went into her chamber in order to wait her return, and relate the whole history to her as she should undress for bed. But hour after hour elapsing without any appearance of the person she expected, she thought to beguile the tedious time by reading; and remembering that Melanthe had a very agreeable book in her hand that morning, she opened a drawer, where she knew that lady was accustomed to throw any thing in, which she had no occasion to conceal; but how great was her surprise when, instead of what she sought, she found the letter from count de Bellfleur which Melanthe, in the hurry of spirits, had forgot to lock up. As it lay open and was from him, she thought it no breach of honour to examine the contents, but in doing so was ready to faint away between grief and astonishment.

She was not insensible that Melanthe was charmed with this new lover, and had always feared her liking him would sway her to some imprudencies, but could not have imagined it would have carried her, at least so soon, to such a guilty length as she now found it did.

Convinced by the hour in which she went out, and alone, that she had complied with the appointment, and that all she would have endeavoured to prevent was already come to pass, she now considered that the discovery she had to make would only render this indiscreet lady more unhappy, and therefore no longer thought herself obliged to run any risque of incuring her ill-will on the occasion; but in her soul extremely lamented this second fall from virtue, which it was impossible should not bring on consequences equally, if not more shameful than the first.

Good God! cried she, how is it possible for a woman of any share of sense, and who has been blessed with a suitable education, to run thus counter to all the principles of religion, honour, virtue, modesty, and all that is valuable in our sex? and yet that many do, I have been a melancholy witness:--and then again, what is there in this love, resumed she, that so infatuates the understanding, that we doat on our dishonour, and think ruin pleasing?--Can any personal perfections in a man attone for the contempt he treats us with in courting us to infamy!--the mean opinion he testifies to have of us sure ought rather to excite hate than love; our very pride, methinks, should be a sufficient guard, and turn whatever favourable thoughts we might have of such a one, unknowing his design, into aversion, when once convinced he presumed upon our weakness.

In these kind of reasonings did she continue some time; but reflecting that the trouble she was in might put Melanthe on asking the cause, it seemed best to her to avoid seeing her that night, so retired to her own room and went to bed, ordering the servants to tell their lady, in case she enquired for her, that she was a little indisposed.

While Louisa was thus deploring a misfortune she wanted power to remedy, the person for whom she was concerned past her time in a far different manner: the count omitted nothing that might convince her of his gallantry, and give her a pretence for flattering herself with his sincerity:--he swore ten thousand oaths of constancy, and she easily gave credit to what she wished and had vanity enough to think she merited:--he had prepared every thing that could delight the senses for her reception at the house to which he carried her; and she found in herself so little inclination to quit the pleasures she enjoyed, that it was as much as the little remains of decency and care of reputation could do, to make her tear herself away before midnight.

In the fullness of her heart she had doubtless concealed no part of this adventure from Louisa, but on hearing she was gone to rest, and not very well, would not disturb her. The first thing she did in the morning was to run into the chamber and enquire after her health, which she did in so affectionate and tender a manner, that it very much heightened the other's trouble for her.

It is certain that, setting aside too loose a way of thinking of virtue and religion, and adhering to that false maxim, that a woman of rank is above censure, Melanthe had many amiable qualities, and as she truly loved Louisa, was alarmed at her supposed indisposition, which, to conceal the perplexity her mind was in, she still continued to counterfeit, as well as to avoid going to a masquerade, to which they had some days before been invited, and which the present situation of her thoughts left her no relish for.

Melanthe would fain have perswaded her that this diversion would contribute to restoring her; but she entreated to be excused, and the other went without her.

Monsieur du Plessis in the mean time having informed the count de Bellfleur, how much it was in vain for him to flatter himself with any hopes of Louisa, that proud and inconstant nobleman was extremely mortified, and said, that since she was so haughty, he was resolved to contrive some way or other to get her into his power, as well out of revenge as inclination. This, the other represented to him, would be a very ungenerous way of proceeding; and said, that as she refused his addresses merely out of a principle of virtue, and not for the sake of a more favoured rival, he ought to content himself; but these arguments were lost on a man whom pride of blood, and an affluence of fortune, had rendered too insolent and head-strong to think any thing reason which opposed his will; and they parted not well satisfied with each other, tho' du Plessis concealed part of the dislike he had of his principles and manner of behaviour, on account of a long friendship between their families, and also as the count was his superior in birth, in years, and in the post he held in the army.

He had no sooner left him than he came to Louisa, thinking it his duty to give her warning of the count's design, and that it would be a proper prelude to something else he had to say. As the servants knew she was not perfectly well, they told him, they believed she would see no company; but on his entreating it, and saying he had something of moment to impart, one of them went in and repeated what he had said, on which she gave leave for his admission.

He rejoiced to find her alone, as he came prepared to reveal to her more secrets than that of the count's menace; but the pleasure he took in having so favourable an opportunity was very much damped, by seeing her look more pale than usual, and that she was in a night-dress. Fearful that this change proceeded from what had passed between them the day before, he asked with a hastiness, that shewed the most kind concern, if she were well. No otherways disordered, answered she, than in my mind, and that not sufficiently to have any effect over my health; but to confess the truth, monsieur, said she, the continual round of diversion this carnival affords, has made what the world calls pleasure, cease to be so with me; and I find more solid satisfaction in retirement, where I am in no danger of being too much flattered or affronted.

Ah! madam, cried he, I see the audacity of the count dwells too much upon your thoughts, and tremble to relate the business on which I came, and which it is yet necessary you should know. You mistake me, monsieur, replied she; a common foe of virtue, such as the count, is incapable of taking up my thoughts one moment; it is only those I love can give me real pain.

I understand you, madam, resumed he, and am too much interested in your concern not to simpathize on the occasion: the misfortunes, such as I fear will attend the too great sensibility of Melanthe, may give you so terrible an idea of love in general, that it will be difficult to persuade you there can be any lasting happiness to be found in that passion:--but, charming Louisa, continued he, if you will make the least use of your penetration, and examine with a desire of being convinced, you will easily distinguish the real passion from the counterfeit: that love, whose supremest pleasure is in being capable to give felicity to the beloved object; and that wild desire, which aims at no more than a self-gratification:--the one has the authority of heaven for its sanction;--the other no excuse but nature in its depravity. From all attempts of the one, I am confident, your virtue and good sense will always defend you; but to fly with too great obstinacy the other, is not to answer the end of your creation; and deny yourself a blessing, which you seem formed to enjoy in the most extensive degree.

Both the voice and manner in which monsieur du Plessis spoke, gave Louisa some suspicion of what he aimed at in this definition, and filled her at the same time with emotions of various kinds; but dissembling them as well as she could, and endeavouring to turn what he said into raillery, you argue very learnedly on this subject, it must be confessed, answered she smiling; but all you can urge on that head, nor the compliment you make me, can win me to believe that love of any kind is not attended with more mischief than good:--where it is accompanied with the strictest honour, constancy, purity, and all the requisites that constitute what is called a perfect passion, there are ordinarily so many difficulties in the way to the completion of its wishes, that the breast which harbours it must endure a continual agitation, which surely none would chuse to be involved in.

Ah! madam, how little are you capable of judging of this passion, said he; there is a delicacy in love which renders even its pains pleasing, and how much soever a lover suffers, the thoughts of for whom he suffers is more than a compensation; I am myself an instance of this truth:--I am a lover:--conscious unworthiness of a suitable return of affection, and a thousand other impediments lie between me and hope, yet would I not change this dear anxiety for that insipid case I lived in before I saw the only object capable of making me a convert to love.--It is certain my passion is yet young; but a few days has given it root which no time, no absence, no misfortune ever can dislodge.--The charming maid is ignorant of her conquest:--the carnival draws near to a conclusion.--I must return to the army, and these cruel circumstances oblige me either to make a declaration which she may possibly condemn as too abrupt, or go and leave her unknowing of my heart, and thereby deprive myself even of her pity:--Which party, madam, shall I take?--Will the severe extreme, to which I am driven, be sufficient to attone for a presumption which else would merit her disdain?

Louisa must have been as dull as she was really the contrary, not to have known all this was meant to herself; and the pleasing confusion which this discovery infused thro' all her veins, made her at the same time sensible of the difference she put between him and all those who before had entertained her on that subject; but not knowing presently whether she ought to attribute it to her good or ill fortune, she was wholly at a loss how to behave, and, to avoid giving any direct answer, still affected an air of pleasantry.

See, cried she, the little reason you, have to speak in the praise of love; for if pity be all you have to hope for from your, mistress, I am afraid the consolation will be no way adequate to the misfortune.

Yet if you vouchsafe me that, replied he, kissing her hard, I never shall complain. Me! interrupted she, pretending the utmost astonishment, and drawing her chair somewhat farther from him. Yes, beautiful Louisa, resumed he; it is you alone who have been capable of teaching me what love truly is:--your eyes, at first sight, subdued my heart; but your virtue has since made a conquest of my soul:--if I dare hope to make you mine, it is only by such ways as heaven, and those who have the power of disposing you, shall approve:--in the mean time I implore no more than your permission to admire you, and to convince you, by all the honourable services in my power to do you while you continue here, how much my words are deficient to denote my meaning.

Louisa, now finding herself under a necessity of answering seriously, told him, that if it were true that he had sentiments for her of the nature he pretended, they would not only merit, but receive the most grateful acknowledgments on her part; but at the same time she should be sorry he had entertained them, and would wish him not to indulge a prospect which could last no longer than while both remained in Venice, and must infallibly vanish on their separation.

No, madam, replied he, when the next campaign is over, I shall return to France; and sure the distance between that kingdom and England is not so great, but a less motive than yourself would easily carry me thither; and such credentials also of who, and what I am, as, I flatter myself, would not appear contemptible in the eyes of your friends:--the prospect therefore is not so visionary as you seem to think, provided I have your consent.

The mention he made of her friends reminding her of her destitute condition, gave her the utmost shock; which not being able to overcome, she remained silent some moments; but at last perceiving he waited her reply, monsieur, said she, there may be a thousand indissoluble bars between us which you do not think of.

None, interrupted he eagerly, but what such love as mine will easily surmount:--it is true, I am ignorant of your condition in the world; but if it be superior to mine, the passion I am possessed of will inspire me with means to raise me to an equality; and if inferior, which heaven grant may be the case, it will only give the opportunity of proving that I love Louisa for Louisa's self, and look upon every thing she brings beside as nothing.

The emphasis he gave these words manifesting their sincerity, could not but give new charms to the person who spoke them: Louisa thought she might, without a blush, testify the sense she had of his generosity; but tho' what she said was perfectly obliging to him, yet she concluded with letting him know, there still was something that rendered the accomplishment of what he seemed to wish impossible.

Then your heart already is engaged, cried he, or you are predestined by your parents to some happier man? Without either of these, answered she, there may be reasons to prevent our ever meeting more;--therefore I owe so much to the honourable offers you are pleased to make me, as to wish you to overcome whatever inclinations you may have for one who I once more assure you never can be yours.

It would be impossible to express the distraction monsieur du Plessis testified at this expression:--a thousand times over did he repeat that dreadful word NEVER;--then added, neither engaged by love or promise, yet never can be mine! does my ill fate come wrap'd to me in riddles!--yet many things have seemed impossible that are not so in themselves:--O Louisa! continued he, if there be any thing beside my want of merit that impedes my wishes, and you delight not in my torment, speak it I conjure you.

There is a necessity of denying you in this also, said Louisa; but to shew you how little I am inclined to be ungrateful, be certain that I have the highest idea of your merits, and prize them as much as I ought to do.

These last words, obliging as they were, could not console monsieur du Plessis for the cruelty, as he termed it, of refusing to let him know what this invincible obstacle was which put a stop to any further correspondence between them: he spared neither prayers nor tears to draw the secret from her, but all were ineffectual; and she at last told him, that if he pressed her any farther on that head, she must for the future avoid his presence.

This was a menace which he had not courage to dare the execution of, and he promised to conform to her will, tho' with such agonies, as shewed her how much he valued even the little she was pleased to grant; but it was not in the power of her perswasions to prevail on him to resolve to make any efforts for the vanquishing his passion; he still protested that he neither could cease to love her, and her alone, nor even to wish an alteration in his sentiments.

By what has been already said of the extreme liking which the first fight of this young gentleman inspired Louisa with, it may easily be supposed she could not hear his complaints, and be witness of the anxieties she was enforced to inflict on him, without feeling at least an equal share: she endeavoured not to conceal the pity she had for him; but he now found that was far from being all he wanted, because it forwarded not, as he at first imagined, the progress of his hopes, but rather shewed them at more distance than ever.

The business of his love so engrossed his thoughts during this visit, that he almost forgot to mention any thing of the count's designs upon her, and she as little remembered to remind him of it, tho' he told her on his entrance, that he had something to acquaint her with on his subject, and it was not till he was going to take leave that it came into his head. When he had related it to her, she assured him that she took the caution he gave her as a new proof of his friendship, which, said she, I shall always prize. At parting, she permitted him to salute her, and gave her promise not to refuse seeing him while they continued in that city; but told him at the same time, that he must not expect any thing from his repeated visits more than she had already granted.

He durst not at that time press her any farther, but fetched a deep sigh as he went out of the room, accompanied with a look more expressive than any words could be of the discontent he laboured under, while she, oppressed beneath the double weight of his and her own grief, remained in a condition he was little able to form any conjecture of.

Pleased as she was with the presence of the only man who had ever had power of inspiring her with one tender thought, yet a thousand times she had wished him gone before he went, that she might be at liberty to give vent to the struggling passions which were more than once ready to throw her into a swoon. The perfections she saw in the person of her lover;--the respect he treated her with, notwithstanding the violence of the passion he was possessed of;--the sincerity that appeared in all his looks and words;--the generosity of his behaviour in regard to her fortune;--all the qualifications that would have made any other woman blessed in the offer of such a heart, served but to make her wretched, since she could not look on herself in a condition capable of accepting it.

Alas! du Plessis, cried she, little do you think to whom you would ally yourself:--you would, you say, despise a portion, but would you marry a foundling, a child of charity, one that has neither name nor friends, and who, in her best circumstances, is but a poor dependant, a servant in effect, tho' not in shew, and owes her very cloaths to the bounty of another?--Oh! why did the mistaken goodness of Dorilaus give me any other education than such as befitted my wretched fortune! Better I had been bred an humble drudge, and never been taught how to distinguish merit:--What avail the accomplishments that cost him so much money, and me so much pains to acquire, but to attract a short-liv'd admiration, which, when I am truly known, will be succeeded with an adequate derision:--Could I but say I was descended from honest, tho' mean parents, I would not murmur at my fate, but I have none,--none to own me;--I am a nothing,--a kind of reptile in humanity, and have been shewn in a genteel way of life only to make my native misery more conspicuous.

Thus did love represent her unhappy circumstances in their worst colours, and render her, which till now she had never been, thankless to heaven for all the good she had received, since it seemed to deny her the only good her passion coveted, that of being in a condition to reward the affection of her dear du Plessis.

A torrent of tears at length somewhat mitigated the violence of her passion, and unwilling to be seen by Melanthe in the present confusion of her thoughts, she went to bed, leaving the same orders as she had done the night before.

CHAP. XIV.

_The base designs of the count de Bellfleur occasion a melancholy change in Louisa's way of life; the generous behaviour of monsieur du Plessis on that occasion._

Had the agonies Louisa suffered been of very long continuance, she must have sunk under them; but grief is easily dissipated in a young heart, and she awoke more tranquil.--The principles of religion grew stronger as her passion weaker, and she reflected that she ought to submit in every thing to the will of heaven, which sometimes converts what seems the greatest evil into good.--The offer of such a match as monsieur du Plessis, a man she loved, and who was master of accomplishments which might excuse the most violent passion, appeared indeed a happiness she would have gloried in had she been really such as he took her for; but then she had known him but a very short time, had no experience of his principles or humour; and tho' he seemed all honour, could not assure herself that the generosity which so much engaged her might not be all artifice; at least she found to think so would most contribute to her ease, therefore indulged it as much as she was able. She condemned herself for having given monsieur du Plessis permission to continue his visits, after having assured him he had nothing to hope from them, because a further conversation might only serve to render both more unhappy. She resolved however to give him no opportunity of talking to her of his passion, and in order to avoid thinking of it herself as much as possible, to go, as usual, into all company that came to Melanthe, and partake of every diversion that offered itself.

Accordingly she forced herself to a gaiety, she was far from feeling, vainly imagining that by counterfeiting a chearfulness, she should in time be able to resume it; but du Plessis hung too heavy at her heart, and when she affected the greatest shew of mirth, it was often interrupted with sighs, which she was not always sensible of herself. He visited her almost every day under one pretence or other; but she took such care never to be alone at the times that she could possibly expect him, that he had not the least opportunity to renew his addresses, any otherways than by his looks, which, notwithstanding, were perfectly intelligible to her, tho' she seemed not to observe them.

Melanthe, no longer able to keep the secret of her amour, finding Louisa, as she thought, had entirely regained her former sprightliness, acquainted her with all had passed between herself and count de Bellfleur; which, tho' the other was no stranger to, she seemed astonished at, and could not help telling her, that she feared the consequence of an intrigue of that nature would one day be fatal to her peace. Yet, said Melanthe, where one loves, and is beloved, it is hard to deny oneself a certain happiness for the dread of an imaginary ill.--In fine, my dear Louisa, I found I could not live without him; and heaven will sure excuse the error of an inclination which is born with us, and which not all our reason is of force to conquer.--But, added she, you always seem to speak of the count, as of a man that wanted charms to excuse the tenderness I have for him; and, I have observed, deny him those praises which I have heard you bestow very freely on persons that have not half his merit.