Chapter XV: Part 15

_Antonio_ was all Rapture with the Thoughts of the approaching Day; which tho' it brought Don _Henrique_ and his dear _Ardelia_ to him, about five o'Clock in the Evening, yet at the same Time brought his last and greatest Misfortune. He saw her then at a She Relation's of his, above three Miles from _Seville_, which was the Place assigned for their fatal Interview. He saw her, I say; but ah! how strange! how altered from the dear, kind _Ardelia_ she was when last he left her! 'Tis true, he flew to her with Arms expanded, and with so swift and eager a Motion, that she could not avoid, nor get loose from his Embrace, till he had kissed, and sighed, and dropt some Tears, which all the Strength of his Mind could not restrain; whether they were the Effects of Joy, or whether (which rather may be feared) they were the Heat-drops which preceded and threaten'd the Thunder and Tempest that should fall on his Head, I cannot positively say; yet all this she was then forced to endure, e'er she had Liberty to speak, or indeed to breathe. But as soon as she had freed herself from the loving Circle that should have been the dear and lov'd Confinement or Centre of a Faithful Heart, she began to dart whole Showers of Tortures on him from her Eyes; which that Mouth that he had just before so tenderly and sacredly kiss'd, seconded with whole Volleys of Deaths crammed in every Sentence, pointed with the keenest Affliction that ever pierc'd a Soul. _Antonio_, (she began) you have treated me now as if you were never like to see me more: and would to Heaven you were not!--Ha! (cry'd he, starting and staring wildly on her;) What said you, Madam? What said you, my _Ardelia_? If you like the Repetition, take it? (reply'd she, unmoved) _Would to Heaven you were never like to see me more!_ Good! very Good! (cry'd he, with a Sigh that threw him trembling into a Chair behind him, and gave her the Opportunity of proceeding thus:)--Yet, _Antonio_, I must not have my Wish; I must continue with you, not out of Choice, but by Command, by the strictest and severest Obligation that ever bound Humanity; Don _Henrique_, your Friend, commands it; Don _Henrique_, the dearest Object of my Soul, enjoins it; Don _Henrique_, whose only Aversion I am, will have it so. Oh, do not wrong me, Madam! (cry'd Don _Henrique_.) Lead me, lead me a little more by the Light of your Discourse, I beseech you (said Don _Antonio_) that I may see your Meaning! for hitherto 'tis Darkness all to me. Attend therefore with your best Faculties (pursu'd _Ardelia_) and know, That I do most sincerely and most passionately love Don _Henrique_; and as a Proof of my Love to him, I have this Day consented to be delivered up to you by him; not for your Sake in the least, _Antonio_, but purely to sacrifice all the Quiet of my Life to his Satisfaction. And now, Sir (continued she, addressing her self to Don _Henrique_) now, Sir, if you can be so cruel, execute your own most dreadful Decree, and join our Hands, though our Hearts never can meet. All this to try me! It's too much, _Ardelia_--(said _Antonio_:) And then turning to Don _Henrique_, he went on, Speak thou! if yet thou art not Apostate to our Friendship! Yet speak, however! Speak, though the Devil has been tampering with thee too! Thou art a Man, a Man of Honour once. And when I forfeit my just Title to that (interrupted Don _Henrique_) may I be made most miserable!--May I lose the Blessings of thy Friendship!--May I lose thee!--Say on then, _Henrique_! (cry'd _Antonio_:) And I charge thee, by all the sacred Ties of Friendship, say, Is this a Trial of me? Is't Illusion, Sport, or shameful murderous Truth?--Oh, my Soul burns within me, and I can bear no longer!--Tell! Speak! Say on!--[Here, with folded Arms, and Eyes fixed stedfastly on _Henrique_, he stood like a Statue, without Motion; unless sometimes, when his swelling Heart raised his over-charged Breast.] After a little Pause, and a hearty Sigh or two, _Henrique_ began;--Oh, _Antonio_! Oh my Friend! prepare thy self to hear yet more dreadful Accents!--I am (pursu'd he) unhappily the greatest and most innocent Criminal that e'er till now offended:--I love her, _Antonio_,--I love _Ardelia_ with a Passion strong and violent as thine!--Oh! summon all that us'd to be more than Man about thee, to suffer to the End of my Discourse, which nothing but a Resolution like thine can bear! I know it by myself.--Tho' there be Wounds, Horror, and Death in each Syllable (interrupted _Antonio_) yet prithee now go on, but with all Haste. I will, (returned Don _Henrique_) tho' I feel my own Words have the same cruel Effects on me. I say, again, my Soul loves _Ardelia_: And how can it be otherwise? Have we not both the self-same Appetites, the same Disgusts? How then could I avoid my Destiny, that has decreed that I should love and hate just as you do? Oh, hard Necessity! that obliged you to use me in the Recovery of this Lady! Alas, can you think that any Man of Sense or Passion could have seen, and not have lov'd her! Then how should I, whose Thoughts are Unisons to yours, evade those Charms that had prevail'd on you?--And now, to let you know, 'tis no Illusion, no Sport, but serious and amazing woeful Truth, _Ardelia_ best can tell you whom she loves. What I have already said, is true, by Heaven (cry'd she) 'tis you, Don _Henrique_, whom I only love, and who alone can give me Happiness: Ah, would you would!--With you, _Antonio_, I must remain unhappy, wretched, cursed: Thou art my Hell; Don _Henrique_ is my Heaven. And thou art mine, (returned he) which here I part with to my dearest Friend. Then taking her Hand, Pardon me, _Antonio_, (pursued he) that I thus take my last Farewel of all the Tastes of Bliss from your _Ardelia_, at this Moment. [At which Words he kiss'd her Hand, and gave it to Don _Antonio_; who received it, and gently pressed it close to his Heart, as if he would have her feel the Disorders she had caus'd there.] Be happy, _Antonio_, (cry'd _Henrique_:) Be very tender of her; To-morrow early I shall hope to see thee.--_Ardelia_ (pursued he) All Happiness and Joy surround thee! May'st thou ne'er want those Blessings thou can'st give _Antonio_!--Farewel to both! (added he, going out.) Ah (cry'd she) Farewel to all Joys, Blessings, Happiness, if you forsake me.--Yet do not go!--Ah, cruel! (continu'd she, seeing him quit the Room) but you shall take my Soul with you. Here she swooned away in Don _Antonio's_ Arms; who, though he was happy that he had her fast there, yet was obliged to call in his Cousin, and _Ardelia's_ Attendants, e'er she could be perfectly recovered. In the mean while Don _Henrique_ had not the Power to go out of Sight of the House, but wandred to and fro about it, distracted in his Soul; and not being able longer to refrain her Sight, her last Words still resounding in his Ears, he came again into the Room where he left her with Don _Antonio_, just as she revived, and called him, exclaiming on his Cruelty, in leaving her so soon. But when, turning her Eyes towards the Door, she saw him; Oh! with what eager Haste she flew to him! then clasped him round the Waist, obliging him, with all the tender Expressions that the Soul of a Lover, and a Woman's too, is capable of uttering, not to leave her in the Possession of Don _Antonio_. This so amaz'd her slighted Lover, that he knew not, at first, how to proceed in this tormenting Scene; but at last, summoning all his wonted Resolution, and Strength of Mind, he told her, He would put her out of his Power, if she would consent to retreat for some few Hours to a Nunnery that was not above half a Mile distant from thence, till he had discoursed his Friend, Don _Henrique_ something more particularly than hitherto, about this Matter: To which she readily agreed, upon the Promise that Don _Henrique_ made her, of seeing her with the first Opportunity. They waited on her then to the Convent, where she was kindly and respectfully received by the Lady Abbess; but it was not long before her Grief renewing with greater Violence, and more afflicting Circumstances, had obliged them to stay with her till it was almost dark, when they once more begged the Liberty of an Hour's Absence; and the better to palliate their Design, _Henrique_ told her, that he would make use of her Father Don _Richardo's_ Coach, in which they came to Don _Antonio's_, for so small a Time: which they did, leaving only _Eleonora_ her Attendant with her, with out whom she had been at a Loss, among so many fair Strangers; Strangers, I mean, to her unhappy Circumstances: Whilst they were carry'd near a Mile farther, where, just as 'twas dark, they lighted from the Coach, Don _Henrique_, ordering the Servants not to stir thence till their Return from their private Walk, which was about a Furlong, in a Field that belong'd to the Convent. Here Don _Antonio_ told Don _Henrique_, That he had not acted honourably; That he had betray'd him, and robb'd him at once both of a Friend and Mistress. To which t'other returned, That he understood his Meaning, when he proposed a particular Discourse about this Affair, which he now perceived must end in Blood: But you may remind your self (continued he) that I have kept my Promise in delivering her to you. Yes, (cry'd _Antonio_) after you had practis'd foully and basely on her. Not at all! (returned _Henrique_) It was her Fate that brought this Mischief on her; for I urged the Shame and Scandal of Inconstancy, but all in vain, to her. But don't you love her, _Henrique_? (the other ask'd.) Too well, and cannot live without her, though I fear I may feel the cursed Effects of the same Inconstancy: However, I had quitted her all to you, but you see how she resents it. And you shall see, Sir, (cry'd _Antonio_, drawing his Sword in a Rage) how I resent it. Here, without more Words, they fell to Action; to bloody Action. (Ah! how wretched are our Sex, in being the unhappy Occasion of so many fatal Mischiefs, even between the dearest Friends!) They fought on each Side with the greatest Animosity of Rivals, forgetting all the sacred Bonds of their former Friendship; till Don _Antonio_ fell, and said, dying, 'Forgive me, _Henrique_! I was to blame; I could not live without her:--I fear she will betray thy Life, which haste and preserve, for my sake--Let me not die all at once!--Heaven pardon both of us!--Farewel! Oh, haste! Farewel! (_returned Don +Henrique+_) Farewel, thou bravest, truest Friend! Farewel thou noblest Part of me!--And Farewel all the Quiet of my Soul.' Then stooping, he kissed his Cheek; but, rising, he found he must retire in time, or else must perish through Loss of Blood, for he had received two or three dangerous Wounds, besides others of less Consequence: Wherefore he made all the convenient Haste he could to the Coach, into which, by the Help of the Footmen, he got, and order'd 'em to drive him directly to Don _Richardo's_ with all imaginable Speed; where he arriv'd in little more than half an Hour's Time, and was received by _Ardelia's_ Father with the greatest Confusion and Amazement that is expressible, seeing him return'd without his Daughter, and so desperately wounded. Before he thought it convenient to ask him any Question more than to enquire of his Daughter's Safety, to which he receiv'd a short but satisfactory Answer, Don _Richardo_ sent for an eminent and able Surgeon, who probed and dress'd Don _Henrique's_ Wounds, who was immediately put to Bed; not without some Despondency of his Recovery; but (thanks to his kind Stars, and kinder Constitution!) he rested pretty well for some Hours that Night, and early in the Morning, _Ardelia's_ Father, who had scarce taken any Rest all that Night, came to visit him, as soon as he understood from the Servants who watched with him, that he was in a Condition to suffer a short Discourse; which, you may be sure, was to learn the Circumstances of the past Night's Adventure; of which Don _Henrique_ gave him a perfect and pleasant Account, since he heard that Don _Antonio_, his mortal Enemy, was killed; the Assurance of whose Death was the more delightful to him, since, by this Relation, he found that _Antonio_ was the Man, whom his Care of his Daughter had so often frustrated. Don _Henrique_ had hardly made an End of his Narration, e'er a Servant came hastily to give _Richardo_ Notice, that the Officers were come to search for his Son-in-Law that should have been; whom the Old Gentleman's wise Precaution had secured in a Room so unsuspected, that they might as reasonably have imagined the entire Walls of his House had a Door made of Stones, as that there should have been one to that close Apartment: He went therefore boldly to the Officers, and gave them all the Keys of his House, with free Liberty to examine every Room and Chamber; which they did, but to no Purpose; and Don _Henrique_ lay there undiscover'd, till his Cure was perfected.

In the mean time _Ardelia_, who that fatal Night but too rightly guess'd that the Death of one or both her Lovers was the Cause that they did not return to their Promise, the next Day fell into a high Fever, in which her Father found her soon after he had clear'd himself of those who come to search for a Lover. The Assurance which her Father gave her of _Henrique's_ Life, seemed a little to revive her; but the Severity of _Antonio's_ Fate was no Way obliging to her, since she could not but retain the Memory of his Love and Constancy; which added to her Afflictions, and heightned her Distemper, insomuch that _Richardo_ was constrain'd to leave her under the Care of the good Lady Abbess, and to the diligent Attendance of _Eleonora_, not daring to hazard her Life in a Removal to his own House. All their Care and Diligence was however ineffectual; for she languished even to the least Hope of Recovery, till immediately after the first Visit of Don _Henrique_, which was the first he made in a Month's Time, and that by Night _incognito_, with her Father, her Distemper visibly retreated each Day: Yet when at last she enjoy'd a perfect Health of Body, her Mind grew sick, and she plunged into a deep Melancholy; which made her entertain a positive Resolution of taking the Veil at the End of her Novitiate; which accordingly she did, notwithstanding all the Intreaties, Prayers, and Tears both of her Father and Lover. But she soon repented her Vow, and often wish'd that she might by any Means see and speak to Don _Henrique_, by whose Help she promised to her self a Deliverance out of her voluntary Imprisonment: Nor were his Wishes wanting to the same Effect, tho' he was forced to fly into _Italy_, to avoid the Prosecution of _Antonio's_ Friends. Thither she pursu'd him; nor could he any way shun her, unless he could have left his Heart at a Distance from his Body: Which made him take a fatal Resolution of returning to _Seville_ in Disguise, where he wander'd about the Convent every Night like a Ghost (for indeed his Soul was within, while his inanimate Trunk was without) till at last he found Means to convey a Letter to her, which both surprized and delighted her. The Messenger that brought it her was one of her Mother-in-Law's Maids, whom he had known before, and met accidentally one Night as he was going his Rounds, and she coming out from _Ardelia_; with her he prevail'd, and with Gold obliged her to Secrecy and Assistance: Which proved so successful, that he understood from _Ardelia_ her strong Desire of Liberty, and the Continuance of her Passion for him, together with the Means and Time most convenient and likely to succeed for her Enlargement. The Time was the fourteenth Night following, at twelve o'Clock, which just compleated a Month since his Return thither; at which Time they both promised themselves the greatest Happiness on Earth. But you may observe the Justice of Heaven, in their Disappointment.

Don _Sebastian_, who still pursu'd him with a most implacable Hatred, had traced him even to _Italy_, and there narrowly missing him, posted after him to _Toledo_; so sure and secret was his Intelligence! As soon as he arriv'd, he went directly to the Convent where his Sister _Elvira_ had been one of the Profess'd, ever since Don _Henrique_ had forsaken her, and where _Ardelia_ had taken her repented Vow. _Elvira_ had all along conceal'd the Occasion of her coming thither from _Ardelia_; and tho' she was her only Confident, and knew the whole Story of her Misfortunes, and heard the Name of Don _Henrique_ repeated a hundred Times a Day, whom still she lov'd most perfectly, yet never gave her beautiful Rival any Cause of Suspicion that she lov'd him, either by Words or Looks: Nay more, when she understood that Don _Henrique_ came to the Convent with _Ardelia_ and _Antonio_, and at other Times with her Father; yet she had so great a Command of her self, as to refrain seeing him, or to be seen by him; nor ever intended to have spoken or writ to him, had not her Brother Don _Sebastian_ put her upon the cruel Necessity of doing the last; who coming to visit his Sister (as I have said before) found her with Dona _Ardelia_, whom he never remembred to have seen, nor who ever had seen him but twice, and that was about six Years before, when she was but ten Years of Age, when she fell passionately in Love with him, and continu'd her Passion till about the fourteenth Year of her Empire, when unfortunate _Antonio_ first began his Court to her. Don _Sebastian_ was really a very desirable Person, being at that time very beautiful, his Age not exceeding six and twenty, of a sweet Conversation, very brave, but revengeful and irreconcilable (like most of his Countrymen) and of an honourable Family. At the Sight of him _Ardelia_ felt her former Passion renew; which proceeded and continued with such Violence, that it utterly defac'd the Ideas of _Antonio_ and _Henrique_. (No Wonder that she who could resolve to forsake her God for Man, should quit one Lover for another.) In short, she then only wished that he might love her equally, and then she doubted not of contriving the Means of their Happiness betwixt 'em. She had her Wish, and more, if possible; for he lov'd her beyond the Thought of any other present or future Blessing, and fail'd not to let her know it, at the second Interview; when he receiv'd the greatest Pleasure he could have wish'd, next to the Joys of a Bridal Bed: For she confessed her Love to him, and presently put him upon thinking on the Means of her Escape; but not finding his Designs so likely to succeed, as those Measures she had sent to Don _Henrique_, she communicates the very same to Don _Sebastian_, and agreed with him to make use of them on that very Night, wherein she had obliged Don _Henrique_ to attempt her Deliverance: The Hour indeed was different, being determined to be at eleven. _Elvira_, who was present at the Conference, took the Hint; and not being willing to disoblige a Brother who had so hazarded his Life in Vindication of her, either does not, or would not seem to oppose his Inclinations at that Time: However, when he retired with her to talk more particularly of his intended Revenge on Don _Henrique_, who he told her lay somewhere absconded in _Toledo_, and whom he had resolved, as he assured her, to sacrifice to her injur'd Honour, and his Resentments; she oppos'd that his vindictive Resolution with all the forcible Arguments in a virtuous and pious Lady's Capacity, but in vain: so that immediately upon his Retreat from the Convent, she took the Opportunity of writing to Don _Henrique_ as follows, the fatal Hour not being then seven Nights distant.

Don _Henrique_,

_My Brother is now in Town, in Pursuit of your Life; nay more, of
your Mistress, who has consented to make her Escape from the
Convent, at the same Place of it, and by the same Means on which she
had agreed to give her self entirely to you, but the Hour is eleven.
I know, +Henrique+, your +Ardelia+ is dearer to you than your Life:
But your Life, your dear Life, is more desired than any Thing in
this World, by_

Your injur'd and forsaken

_ELVIRA_.

This she delivered to _Richardo's_ Servant, whom _Henrique_ had gained that Night, as soon as she came to visit _Ardelia_, at her usual Hour, just as she went out of the Cloister.

Don _Henrique_ was not a little surprized with this _Billet_; however, he could hardly resolve to forbear his accustom'd Visits to _Ardelia_, at first: But upon more mature Consideration, he only chose to converse with her by Letters, which still press'd her to be mindful of her Promise, and of the Hour, not taking notice of any Caution that he had received of her Treachery. To which she still return'd in Words that might assure him of her Constancy.

The dreadful Hour wanted not a Quarter of being perfect, when Don _Henrique_ came; and having fixed his Rope-Ladder to that Part of the Garden-Wall, where he was expected, _Ardelia_, who had not stir'd from that very Place for a Quarter of an Hour before, prepar'd to ascend by it; which she did, as soon as his Servant had returned and fixed it on the inner-side of the Wall: On the Top of which, at a little Distance, she found another fasten'd, for her to descend on the out-side, whilst Don _Henrique_ eagerly waited to receive her. She came at last, and flew into his Arms; which made _Henrique_ cry out in a Rapture, _Am I at last once more happy in having my +Ardelia+ in my Possession!_ She, who knew his Voice, and now found she was betray'd, but knew not by whom, shriek'd out, _I am ruined! help! help!--Loose me, I charge you, +Henrique!+ Loose me!_ At that very Moment, and at those very Words, came _Sebastian_, attended by only one Servant; and hearing _Henrique_ reply, _Not all the Powers of Hell shall snatch you from me_, drawing his Sword, without one Word, made a furious Pass at him: But his Rage and Haste misguided his Arm, for his Sword went quite through _Ardelia's_ Body, who only said, _Ah, wretched Maid!_ and drop'd from _Henrique's_ Arms, who then was obliged to quit her, to preserve his own Life, if possible: however he had not had so much Time as to draw, had not _Sebastian_ been amazed at this dreadful Mistake of his Sword; but presently recollecting himself, he flew with redoubled Rage to attack _Henrique_; and his Servant had seconded him, had not _Henrique's_, who was now descended, otherwise diverted him. They fought with the greatest Animosity on both Sides, and with equal Advantage; for they both fell together: _Ah, my +Ardelia+, I come to thee now!_ (_Sebastian_ groan'd out,)--_'Twas this unlucky Arm, which now embraces thee, that killed thee._ _Just Heaven!_ (she sigh'd out,)--_Oh, yet have Mercy!_ [Here they both dy'd.] _Amen_, (cry'd _Henrique_, dying) _I want it most_-- _Oh, +Antonio+!_ _Oh, +Elvira+! Ah, there's the Weight that sinks me down.--And yet I wish Forgiveness.--Once more, sweet Heaven, have Mercy!_ He could not out-live that last Word; which was echo'd by _Elvira_, who all this while stood weeping, and calling out for Help, as she stood close to the Wall in the Garden.

This alarmed the Rest of the Sisters, who rising, caus'd the Bell to be rung out, as upon dangerous Occasions it used to be; which rais'd the Neighbourhood, who came time enough to remove the dead Bodies of the two Rivals, and of the late fallen Angel _Ardelia_. The injur'd and neglected _Elvira_, whose Piety designed quite contrary Effects, was immediately seiz'd with a violent Fever; which, as it was violent, did not last long: for she dy'd within four and twenty Hours, with all the happy Symptoms of a departing Saint.

* * * * *
* * * *

THE LUCKY MISTAKE.

TO GEORGE GREENVIEL, ESQ;

Sir,

At this Critical Juncture, I find the Authors will have need of a Protector, as well as the Nation, we having peculiar Laws and Liberties to be defended as well as that, but of how different a Nature, none but such Judges as you are fit to determine; whatever our Province be, I am sure it should be Wit, and you know what Ellevated _Ben_ says, _That none can judge of Wit but Wit._ Let the _Heroes_ toyl for Crowns and Kingdoms and with what pretences they please. Let the Slaves of State drudge on for false and empty Glories, troubling the repose of the World and ruining their own to gain uneasy Grandure, whilst you, oh! happyer Sir, great enough by your Birth, yet more Illustrious by your Wit, are capable of enjoying alone that true Felicity of Mind, which belongs to an absolutely Vertuous and Gallant Man, by that, and the lively Notions of Honour Imprinted in your Soul, you are above Ambition, and can Form _Kings_ and _Heroes_, when 'ere your delicate Fancy shall put you upon the Poetical Creation.

You can make those _Heroes_ Lovers too, and inspire 'em with a Language so Irresistable as may instruct the Fair, how easily you may Conquer when it comes to your turn, to plead for a Heart, nor is your delicate Wit the only Charm; your Person claims an equal share of Graces with those of your Mind, and both together are capable of rendering you Victorious, whereever you shall please to Address 'em, but your Vertue keeps you from those Ravages of Beauty, which so wholly imploy the hours of the Rest of the Gay and Young, whilst you have business more sollid, and more noble for yours.

I would not by this have the World imagine you are therefore exempt from the tenderness of Love, it rather seems you were on purpose form'd for that Soft Entertainment, such an Agreement there is between the Harmony of your Soul and your Person, and sure the _Muses_ who have so divinely inspir'd you with Poetic Fires, have furnisht you with that Necessary Material (Love) to maintain it, and to make it burn with the more Ellevated Flame.

'Tis therefore, Sir, I expect you will the more easily Pardon the Dedicating to your idler hours (if any such you have) this little Amour, all that I shall say for it, is, that 'tis not Translation but an Original, that has more of realty than fiction, if I have not made it fuller of intreague, 'twas because I had a mind to keep close to the Truth.

I must own, Sir, the Obligations I have to you, deserves a greater testimony of my respect, than this little piece, too trivial to bear the honour of your Name, but my increasing Indisposition makes me fear I shall not have many opportunities of this Kind, and shou'd be loath to leave this ungrateful World, without acknowledging my Gratitude more signally than barely by word of Mouth, and without wishing you all the happiness your merit and admirable Vertues deserve and of assuring you how unfeignedly I am (and how Proud of being) Sir,

Your most obliged and
most humble servant
A. Behn.

THE LUCKY MISTAKE: A NEW NOVEL.

The River _Loyre_ has on its delightful Banks abundance of handsome, beautiful and rich Towns and Villages, to which the noble Stream adds no small Graces and Advantages, blessing their Fields with Plenty, and their Eyes with a thousand Diversions. In one of these happily situated Towns, called _Orleans_, where abundance of People of the best Quality and Condition reside, there was a rich Nobleman, now retir'd from the busy Court, where in his Youth he had been bred, weary'd with the Toils of Ceremony and Noise, to enjoy that perfect Tranquillity of Life, which is no where to be found but in Retreat, a faithful Friend, and a good Library; and, as the admirable _Horace_ says, in a little House and a large Garden. Count _Bellyaurd_, for so was this Nobleman call'd, was of this Opinion; and the rather, because he had one only Son, called _Rinaldo_, now grown to the Age of fifteen, who having all the excellent Qualities and Graces of Youth by Nature, he would bring him up in all Virtues and noble Sciences, which he believ'd the Gaiety and Lustre of the Court might divert: he therefore in his Retirement spar'd no Cost to those that could instruct and accomplish him; and he had the best Tutors and Masters that could be purchased at Court: _Bellyaurd_ making far less Account of Riches than of fine Parts. He found his Son capable of all Impressions, having a Wit suitable to his delicate Person, so that he was the sole Joy of his Life, and the Darling of his Eyes.

In the very next House, which join'd close to that of _Bellyaurd's_, there lived another Count, who had in his Youth been banished the Court of _France_ for some Misunderstandings in some high Affairs wherein he was concern'd: his Name was _De Pais_, a Man of great Birth, but of no Fortune; or at least one not suitable to the Grandeur of his Original. And as it is most natural for great Souls to be most proud (if I may call a handsome Disdain by that vulgar Name) when they are most depress'd; so _De Pais_ was more retir'd, more estrang'd from his Neighbours, and kept a greater Distance, than if he had enjoy'd all he had lost at Court; and took more Solemnity and State upon him, because he would not be subject to the Reproaches of the World, by making himself familiar with it: So that he rarely visited; and, contrary to the Custom of those in _France_, who are easy of Access, and free of Conversation, he kept his Family retir'd so close, that 'twas rare to see any of them; and when they went abroad, which was but seldom, they wanted nothing as to outward Appearance, that was fit for his Quality, and what was much above his Condition.

This old Count had two only Daughters, of exceeding Beauty, who gave the generous Father ten thousand Torments, as often as he beheld them, when he consider'd their extreme Beauty, their fine Wit, their Innocence, Modesty, and above all their Birth; and that he had not a Fortune to marry them according to their Quality; and below it, he had rather see them laid in their silent Graves, than consent to it: for he scorn'd the World should see him forced by his Poverty to commit an Action below his Dignity.

There lived in a neighbouring Town, a certain Nobleman, Friend to _De Pais_, call'd Count _Vernole_, a Man of about forty years of Age, of low Stature, Complexion very black and swarthy, lean, lame, extreme proud and haughty; extracted of a Descent from the Blood-Royal; not extremely brave, but very glorious: he had no very great Estate, but was in Election of a greater, and of an Addition of Honour from the King, his Father having done most worthy Services against the _Hugonots_, and by the high Favour of Cardinal _Mazarine_, was represented to his Majesty, as a Man related to the Crown, of great Name, but small Estate: so that there were now nothing but great Expectations and Preparations in the Family of Count _Vernole_ to go to the Court, to which he daily hoped an Invitation or Command.

_Vernole's_ Fortune being hitherto something a-kin to that of _De Pais_, there was a greater Correspondency between these two Gentlemen, than they had with any other Persons; they accounting themselves above the rest of the World, believed none so proper and fit for their Conversation, as that of each other: so that there was a very particular Intimacy between them. Whenever they went abroad, they clubb'd their Train, to make one great Show; and were always together, bemoaning each other's Fortune, and that from so high a Descent, as one from Monarchs by the Mother's side, and the other from Dukes of the Father's Side, they were reduc'd by Fate to the Degree of private Gentlemen. They would often consult how to manage Affairs most to Advantage, and often _De Pais_ would ask Counsel of _Vernole_, how best he should dispose of his Daughters, which now were about their ninth Year the eldest, and eighth the youngest. _Vernole_ had often seen those two Buds of Beauty, and already saw opening in _Atlante's_ Face and Mind (for that was the Name of the eldest, and _Charlot_ the youngest) a Glory of Wit and Beauty, which could not but one Day display it self, with dazling Lustre, to the wondring World.

_Vernole_ was a great Virtuoso, of a Humour nice, delicate, critical and opinionative: he had nothing of the _French_ Mein in him, but all the Gravity of the Don. His ill-favour'd Person, and his low Estate, put him out of Humour with the World; and because that should not upbraid or reproach his Follies and Defects, he was sure to be beforehand with that, and to be always satirick upon it; and lov'd to live and act contrary to the Custom and Usage of all Mankind besides.

He was infinitely delighted to find a Man of his own Humour in _De Pais_, or at least a Man that would be persuaded to like his so well, to live up to it; and it was no little Joy and Satisfaction to him to find, that he kept his Daughters in that Severity, which was wholly agreeable to him, and so contrary to the Manner and Fashion of the _French_ Quality; who allow all Freedoms, which to _Vernole's_ rigid Nature, seem'd as so many Steps to Vice, and in his Opinion, the Ruiner of all Virtue and Honour in Womankind. _De Pais_ was extremely glad his Conduct was so well interpreted, which was no other in him than a proud Frugality; who, because they could not appear in so much Gallantry as their Quality required, kept 'em retir'd, and unseen to all, but his particular Friends, of whom _Vernole_ was the chief.

_Vernole_ never appear'd before _Atlante_ (which was seldom) but he assum'd a Gravity and Respect fit to have entertain'd a Maid of Twenty, or rather a Matron of much greater Years and Judgment. His Discourses were always of Matters of State or Philosophy; and sometimes when _De Pais_ would (laughing) say, 'He might as well entertain _Atlante_ with _Greek_ and _Hebrew_,' he would reply gravely, 'You are mistaken, Sir, I find the Seeds of great and profound Matter in the Soul of this young Maid, which ought to be nourish'd now while she is young, and they will grow up to very great Perfection: I find _Atlante_ capable of the noble Virtues of the Mind, and am infinitely mistaken in my Observations, and Art of Physiognomy, if _Atlante_ be not born for greater Things than her Fortune does now Promise: She will be very considerable in the World, (believe me) and this will arrive to her perfectly from the Force of her Charms.' _De Pais_ was extremely overjoy'd to hear such Good prophesied of _Atlante_, and from that Time set a sort of an Esteem upon her, which he did not on _Charlot_ his younger; whom, by the Persuasions of _Vernole_, he resolv'd to put in a Monastery, that what he had might descend to _Atlante_: not but he confess'd _Charlot_ had Beauty extremely attractive, and a Wit that promised much, when it should be cultivated by Years and Experience; and would shew it self with great Advantage and Lustre in a Monastery. All this pleased _De Pais_ very well, who was easily persuaded, since he had not a Fortune to marry her well in the World.

As yet _Vernole_ had never spoke to _Atlante_ of Love, nor did his Gravity think it Prudence to discover his Heart to so young a Maid; he waited her more sensible Years, when he could hope to have some Return. And all he expected from this her tender Age, was by his daily Converse with her, and the Presents he made her suitable to her Years, to ingratiate himself insensibly into her Friendship and Esteem, since she was not yet capable of Love; but even in that he mistook his Aim, for every day he grew more and more disagreeable to _Atlante_, and would have been her absolute Aversion, had she known she had every Day entertained a Lover; but as she grew in Years and Sense, he seemed the more despicable in her Eyes as to his Person; yet as she had respect to his Parts and Qualities, she paid him all the Complaisance she could, and which was due to him, and so must be confess'd. Tho' he had a stiff Formality in all he said and did, yet he had Wit and Learning, and was a great Philosopher. As much of his Learning as _Atlante_ was capable of attaining to, he made her Mistress of, and that was no small Portion; for all his Discourse was fine and easily comprehended, his Notions of Philosophy fit for Ladies; and he took greater Pains with _Atlante_, than any Master would have done with a Scholar: So that it was most certain, he added very great Accomplishment to her natural Wit: and the more, because she took a great Delight in Philosophy; which very often made her impatient of his Coming, especially when she had many Questions to ask him concerning it, and she would often receive him with a Pleasure in her Face, which he did not fail to interpret to his own Advantage, being very apt to flatter himself. Her Sister _Charlot_ would often ask her, 'How she could give whole Afternoons to so disagreeable a Man. What is it (said she) that charms you so? his tawny Leather-Face, his extraordinary high Nose, his wide Mouth and Eye-brows, that hang low'ring over his Eyes, his lean Carcase, and his lame and halting Hips?' But _Atlante_ would discreetly reply, 'If I must grant all you say of Count _Vernole_ to be true, yet he has a Wit and Learning that will atone sufficiently for all those Faults you mention: A fine Soul is infinitely to be preferr'd to a fine Body; this decays, but that's eternal; and Age that ruins one, refines the other.' Tho' possibly _Atlante_ thought as ill of the Count as her Sister, yet in Respect to him, she would not own it.