THE ADVENTURES ^a Of the Life of Henrietta Silvia Moliere, To Her Highness of—

IT is no small comfort to Silvia, ^b Ma­dam, in the midst of all the ill Re­sorts, by which her Reputation is slandred [Page 2] every where, to see that your Highness is desi­rous to know what A­pology she can make for her self. She hath all the sence that ought to be had of that; and lest it should appear o­therwise, she is ready to obey the command you have laid upon her, to give you the pastime of a faithful Relation of her harmless Er­rors. Not that she hath [Page 3] any hope, that she shall ever be able to blot out of the mindes of most men, the cruel prejudi­ces they have taken a­gainst the whole con­duct of her life: this age does not permit her to flatter her self with the thoughts of prevailing against so great Calumnies. Yet, if I may use your Highnesses own terms, a time will come, when [Page 4] men shall not be wil­ling to judge so cri­minally of others by themselves, by reason their manners shall not be so extreamly cor­rupted, and guilty, as they are now; and then, perhaps, more faith will be given to what I am going to write for her justifica­tion, then to what her enemies can say to tra­duce her notions.

I will not hide so much as any of the most foolish Adven­tures, wherein she may have had any share; for I wish your High­ness may divert your self with them, at the same time that you will have compassion on Sil­via for other things.^c

In the first place, she never knew well who she was; all I am cer­tain of is, that she is [Page 6] not a person of an ordi­nary and vulgar desti­ny: that her Birth, her Education, and her Marriages, have been the effect of many ex­traordinary Accidents, and Adventures; and that if she had a mind to set out her Life with the lustre of a fa­bulous descent, ^d it would be easie, without doubt, for any body to enlarge upon it, as fine­ly [Page 7] as ever hath been done upon the like oc­casion; and draw her Pedigree in a way that would look something Heroick.

She was called Hen­rietta Silvia, by the or­der of her Mother her self, as I have been told. Henrietta, without doubt, for some private reason best known to her self; and Silvia, because she was born [Page 8] by a Wood side, com­monly called, the Wood of Silves. She had the name of Mo­liere, which hath stuck to her by custome, from those that took the care of her breed­ing, who were so call'd themselves.

She is tall, and of good meen; she hath eyes black and spark­ling, well open'd, and well cut, and such as [Page 9] seem to mark, that she hath enough of wit; let any body else judge by what follows, whether she hath, or no. Her mouth is great when she laughs, but very little when she does not; yet it is the mis­fortune of that part, that she laughs always. She hath good teeth, a good nose; her neck and brest like her com­plexion, that is to say, [Page 10] admirable; and though I should run the ha­zard of being noted as partial and presumptu­ous, I must add, Ma­dam, that there are ve­ry few in the world can compare with it. But it may be I am too te­dious in drawing her Picture thus piece by piece; any body may imagine with them­selves, that she is almost an accomplish'd beauty [Page 11] from head to foot. Such as have seen what she gives leave to see, will be my witnesses, that I use no paint in this draught; and such as have never seen her, may believe, if they please, that I do but sport with them, and flatter my subject. Yet, I hope, they will be better pleased with the fancy of a handsome, then with that of an [Page 12] ugly Woman, if they be not very ill hu­mor'd: however, I tell your Highness nothing but the truth.

I hope I may be ex­cus'd naming the Fami­ly Silvia came of, after what I have said alrea­dy; 'Tis possible, that after the reading of her story, her true Kindred, if they find her not unworthy of them, will strive to [Page 13] make their charity go beyond that of some worthy persons she is beholding to; and one day discover the whole mystery of her Birth, to the end, that it may be added to the rest of the Adventures of her Life; which when it happeneth, I will pass my word to your High­ness for something of [...]llustrious; for she can feel her own heart, and [Page 14] is not easily perswaded that an ordinary man should Father such a Woman as she is.

However, I have been told for certain, that she first saw the light in a Hamlet bordering up­on a Wood, two or three leagues from Montpellier, near the Sea. Four Men, with two Women, did bring thither the Person that brought her into the [Page 15] World, in July, in the Year One thousand six hundred forty and sea­ven. They landed in a Boat, which was imme­diately burnt upon the shore; the reason I know not: they went [...]nto the next house they met with, which did chance to be that of a poor Woman that nursed her own Child. Silvia's Mother, who­ever she may be, had [Page 16] not stay'd there one hour e're she was deli­vered of a Child: That of the Country Wo­man, was put to ano­ther Nurse, and the new-born Silvia given her, together with a sum of Money. The night being come, all the company vanisht away. The next morn­ing, the Country Wo­man, who had been lodg'd somewhere else [Page 17] for that night, found the Child's Mother gone with the rest in the dark. If you ask me, whither? I know it as little as any thing else; I wish I knew it, for my own satisfaction rather then that of any other besides: yet I ought to have reckon'd that of your Highness in the first place.

Silvia was nurs'd, and bred up in that hamlet [Page 18] until she was five years of age, without being own'd, or laid claim to by any body. About which time, the Duke of Kendale chanced to come a Hunting upon that Coast: He came into the Cottage of the Nurse, to shelter him­self from a sudden storm and showre of rain; the Child's pra­ting, and her pretty carriage, ^e did please [Page 19] him well, thinking that he did see something in her which was not of a Country Girl. He did ask, who she was? heard her fortunes; and upon that, turning him­self, with a smile, to a Gentleman that waited on him, Behold, says he, a great cruelty, thus to forsake a poor Child. I have a conceit, that this Child may come one day to be a [Page 20] very handsome Wo­man; I will take care of her breeding, that I may see, whether I shall be mistaken in my conjecture. And, really, from that moment, to the hour of his death, the Duke never suffer­ed her to want any thing requisite for her Education. Nay, he was so careful, and so punctual in it, that when it came to be ta­ken [Page 21] notice of, it gave occasion to several per­sons to say, that Silvia was beholding for her life unto the Duke; which some interpre­ted maliciously. Yet, I have been assured by others, that he was not her Father; and that the occasion of Hunt­ing had brought him by a meer chance into that Hamlet, where the storm, as I have [Page 22] said, had made him pitch upon the Nurses House among the rest, though it was not the nearest on that side he came in. I can say no more of that, and Sil­via shall be no kin to the rest of his Heirs, without they'l have her. 'Tis now enough of that.

First of all, the ge­nerous Duke took care to put the Child out of [Page 23] the Country Womans hand, intending to give her to some that were like to have a better success in her breed­ing. There liv'd then at Pezenas, in Langue­doc, a^f Financier, whose wife was a good friend to the Duke; and the man himself was be­holding to him for all the fortune he had in the World: A Child of theirs, much about [Page 24] Silvias age, and of her sex also, was then kept at one of their Farmers; and being dangerously ill was given over by the Physitians, so that nothing could be expe­cted but her death eve­ry hour: it was no hard matter, as soon as she was dead, to set up Silvia in stead of her; and to let the World think, after she had been remov'd into [Page 25] some other place and hands, that she had been cured with the remedies that were gi­ven her, and was well recovered. (Observe, I beseech you, Madam, what paths Fortune was pleased to lead Silvia to her Adven­tures.) That exchange was made cunningly enough. The Finan­cier carried himself as handsomely therein as [Page 26] could be wisht. Thus she became Sister to a Son that he had; and a considerable sum that the Duke bestowed on him did inspire into his soul all the tender­ness that was necessary to oblige him to per­sonate a fatherly love to her.

It is possible your Highness would not be too much tired, if I should begin Silvia's [Page 27] story, by that which may render her child­hood as suprizing as the rest of her life.

She had a pretty little air of gallantry, which did almost ac­cuse her Benefactor of being her Father. She had wit, vanity, and courage enough, and such a readiness to take the true accent of all manner of Languages, as that the Financier's [Page 28] Son, having men a­bout him to teach him those things, she was able, in a little time, to learn with him, be­sides those in fashion, the Dutch Tongue it self. She had also a very great passion for hunting; and what few Women will do, at ten years old, she did sleight all the divertis­ments of her sex, to give her self to riding, [Page 29] shooting with a Pistol, or with an Arrow, and the like exercises. It is not impossible, but so extraordinary incli­nations may have oc­casioned some pretty little Adventures, were I willing to remember them; but my inten­tion being to speak on­ly of that that hath been seen or talked of in the great World, I must let those things [Page 30] pass, whereof there were no witnesses but of small consequence.

All I need say, is this, that she knew all that while no other Father or Mother, but the Persons she had been given to; and that it was very late, e're she came to be clear'd of that error. The Ad­venture that unde­ceived her is of a new kind, and deserves [Page 31] to be recorded.

The Financier's Wife was a good hand­some Woman, and had a great deal of wit. The ^g Marquis de Bi­rague, a man besides the Nobility of his Line, full of great and fine qualifications, and such, in a word, as though Silvia could not then consider him as much as he deser­ved, because he was a [Page 32] a married man, she would be glad to have such a Gentleman to her Servant, now that he is a Widdower. That gallant man, I say, did often see the fair Lady Moliere; for so she was called that Silvia was trusted to. Her Husband, on a certain day, found them both asleep one by the other, in a little Wood belonging to [Page 33] one of his Country-Houses, at a time when they thought he had been far e­nough, very busily employed about the affairs of his charge. I cannot very well say, how the Lady did clear her self in that surprizing ingage­ment. ^h 'Tis like her Husband was a discreet man, and would make no uproar of a private [Page 34] business. Some days after Silvia did per­ceive that her pretend­ed Father did medi­tate some kind of re­venge, and that in his soul he did reckon ⁱ to have made her go halves with him in that affair.

To tell your High­ness all the particulars of this intrigue, and of the manner that he did use to make her un­derstand [Page 35] his ends, it would be too tedious. Silvia was waggish, and full of caresses, for those that she thought she did belong to, al­though for all the rest she was one of the proudest Girles in all the World. Thus when he begun to shew her some extra­ordinary good will, she did receive it with a thousand endear­ments. [Page 36] And this ha­ving lasted a while, the man was so taken with these little ba­dineries^k, to which she gave way with all manner of freedom, as well as innocency, that he became, e're he or she either was a­ware, the most ena­moured man in the World, and then re­solved to carry on fur­ther that business.

He took her a Hunt­ing along with him, that was her bait; and having cunningly se­vered her from his Wife, and the Mar­quis de Birague, which possibly, on their side, were very glad also of an occasion of being a­lone; he did so well, that they two found themselves alone a pretty good way into the Forest. The ve­ry [Page 38] place did invite them to alight, and was really very fit to fa­vour the resolutions of such persons as should have been both of one minde. The trees had so prettily intan­gled, and twisted to­gether their shady branches, as to make it a natural vault; and a running spring, two paces off, made a plea­sant little noise; the [Page 39] Wood was very thick, deep, the shades with a great silence round about. In a word, Ma­dam, Monsieur de Mo­liere was a witty man, and had pitched upon a place no ways unfit for the design in hand. At his request, and af­ter his example, Sil­via alighted off her Horse; and seeing him lay himself all along upon the moss and [Page 40] grass, she did the like hard by him, without the least suspition of what fell out after­wards. Her Father drawing a little nearer, and close by her, and embracing her with much of tenderness, began to reveal a se­cret to her, which she would never have been able to think of, and so told her the whole story of her [Page 41] Birth. Next, he did set forth the obligati­ons that she had to him, and those she was like to have; in that being resolved still to bear the name of her Father, he made her sure of all his Estate, which was left to her by the death of his Son, who had been killed lately. Many more things did he add, to commend his [Page 42] love to her; and the ^l refrein of all this was, that lest Silvia should be spotted with the vice of ungratefulness, she must answer his passion by the like; that he would be sure ever to love her with the greatest discretion and secrecy in the World; and that this com­merce of theirs should not hinder him from finding her out, very [Page 43] speedily, a considerable match.

Your Highness may judge, how Silvia was surprized and amazed at this news. She was indeed the more con­cern'd, and the more troubled with them, by reason the man, af­ter he had made an end of his speech, that she might be sure he said nothing but what was really true, did [Page 44] begin to raise higher his ordinary caresses, whilst the difficulty that he found in the opposition that was made him, did still in­flame him the more, He fell on his knees before her, expressing a thousand extravagan­cies; and though she had told him, that no­thing but a remnant of that respect and kind­ness, which had setled [Page 45] it self in her heart by use, did keep her from vindicating her self from his insolency; he went on with it, even to that point, as to of­fer to use his strength against her. Then it was that she became furious indeed; she got loose out of his arms, she ran to her Horse, and drawing a Pistol out of the Holster, she threatned to kill him, [Page 46] if he did not let her alone. He would not do it; but his bruitish passion turning into a madness and rage, she saw him come up to her like a Satyr, swear­ing that he would have his desire of her, she let the Pistol go, which wounded him with two bullets in his belly. These were her first cruelties.

It was a business in­tricate [Page 47] enough for one of Silvia's age, that which she found her self engaged in: to be all alone in a great Wood, to have laid down a man upon the ground, to think, how she should escape? whi­ther she should go? and not to remember so much as the way she came into that place. She was in­deed so frighted at [Page 48] the thoughts of all this, that she was near to have fallen back­wards, at the same time, with that unluc­ky man. Yet she was not long in that disor­der, necessity awaken­ing her reason, she took a quick resolution, and got on horse-back, not liking to stay there, because she found her self uncapable of tel­ling a lye if she should [Page 49] be catch't. The woun­ded man being more touch't with the per­plexity he saw her in, than Silvia was with his danger, with as loud a voyce as he could, bid her take to the left hand; and she went that road with full speed, without knowing whither. She might have gone far enough, but that she met in her course with [Page 50] the Marquis de Bi­rague, and the Lady Moliere, who having talked together at their ease, without killing one another, as Silvia and her Fa­ther had done, were probably coming to joyn with them, being lead by the sound the shooting of the Pistol gave. Good Lord! what was then her sur­prisal, and her distress, [Page 51] when to her first dis­grace was added as a threatning of a present punishment, the fear of a Wild Boar, which being hunted came to cross her way, almost upon the leggs of her Horse. Yet, in spight of all her amazement, she laid a hand to her other Pistol, meaning to have stopt that Beast: And such cou­ragious motions, if I [Page 52] may say it by the way, are the surest tokens that she hath of that generous blood, from which it is possible that her own is deriv'd.

Birague, who saw at a distance what she was going to do, sus­pected that she came with that full speed to encounter the Wild Beast upon her passage, and with a loud voyce calling her back, and [Page 53] accusing her of temeri­ty, did gallop up to her, at the same time asking whether Mon­sieur de Moliere was in good earnest, thus to expose a Girle to so great danger? So far he was from imagining to himself any thing of what was happened. Silvia having no time to lose, told him, with­out any further infor­mation of her business, [Page 54] That she knew him to be a Gentleman, and a Person of Honour; That she had some se­cret of importance to Communicate with him; and that whilst she should speak to him, he would do well to advise Madam Mo­liere to go seek her Husband a little fur­ther, into a place where he lay very sore wounded. She [Page 55] had scarce made an end of these words when the Lady came up to them; upon the news that was told her, she took instant­ly two Forest-keepers that waited on them to lead her to the place. Silvia took her time to tell the Mar­quis that it was she that had done that mischief; and at the same time begg'd of [Page 56] him, that he would put her into some place where she might be safe. The strange­ness of the thing, and the opinion he had that the wounded man was her Father, made him break out at first into some reproachful words, which did ex­press the excess of his astonishment. But Sil­via, loath to conceal any longer her story, [Page 57] and being an enemy to all that might then be useless to her; He is none of my Father, said she, with some sowerness to the Gen­tleman; and this is no convenient place to make this mystery better known to you. If you intend to do me Service, once more, said she, put me where I may be safe, and I will afterwards fully [Page 58] satisfie you upon all the questions that you can make me. As she spake thus, a Gentle­man that belonged to Birague, came up Ri­ding after them; the Marquis commanded him to lead Silvia to his Castle of Sersac, where his Lady was; himself going after his Mistress.

She was then come up to the fatal place, [Page 59] and as though the max­ime of our age were true, that a Woman may have a Gallant, & love her Husband ne­ver the worse for that; I have been told, that no affliction & desolati­on ever befel any other body, comparable to that of the Lady, when she saw her Gentleman wallowing in his own blood, and that it was almost an impossible [Page 60] thing to part them. Detraction indeed, not sparing the most holy and pious Actions, was not able to make a good construction of that excess of Love, and gave out, that these so long and ob­stinate embraces of a dying man had some secret aim, tending to hinder other people from stanching the blood that ran all that [Page 61] while; & that his dan­ger might thereby be increased. Yet for all the persecutions that good Lady did act a­gainst Silvia; and though this very thing might really occasion the death of her Hus­band; I will be so just to her, as to believe all she did was with a good intent.

The poor man was taken up with much [Page 62] ado, & carried into the next Village to have his Wounds drest: Then they asked him, how he came by that hurt? and did all they could to make him name the Author of it, yet all in vain. He answered only, that three Masked men, who would carry a­way Silvia, had set upon him. The Mar­quis of Birague him­self, [Page 63] who being alrea­dy inform'd by Silvia of the chiefest part, and by telling him of it, did hope to know all the secret, was not able to wrest it out of his mouth: that made them give over troub­ling him any further, & apply themselves only to have him transpor­ted into the Town.

In the mean while, Madam, the silence [Page 64] and discretion of that unlucky man, whether it was an effect of his shame, or of some remnant of his Love to Silvia did save her in the opinion of all people, had she had but strength and cou­rage enough to dare shew her self after such a deed. For the Marquis coming home at night, told her that all the World had [Page 65] taken her flight for an effect of the fear that the supposed Ravishers had put her in: And he himself counte­nancing that imagina­tion, could think no otherwise of that Acci­dent, then that she did chance to hit the Fi­nancier, when she would have shot at the Thieves; but another misfortune happened, which soon discovered [Page 66] the mystery; I must give a particular ac­count of that to your Highness.

Silvia had been put into the hands of the Lady Marqueeze of Birague, in the Castle of Sersac. The Mar­quis came to her to that place after he had taken care to set the mind of his Lady Mo­liere in some rest. Sil­via was really mov'd [Page 67] when she heard the consideration that the Wounded man had for her; and though she did no wayes re­pent her of having sav'd her own honour at the cost of his Life, she could not forbid some tears to fall from her eyes; for having been forc't to come to that. She first did be­moan the trouble, and the sad condition she [Page 68] found her self in: then she told the Mar­quis all along what had past, together with the story that the Fi­nancier had made her▪ all which did surprize him infinitely: For he had alwayes been perswaded with the rest of the World, that Henrietta was that man's Daughter; and the Lady Moliere, who had often trusted [Page 69] her own person, body and soul into his hands, had never trusted him with that secret.ⁿ

The strangeness of that Adventure did absolutely win the ^o Ca­valeir to Silvia; far from blaming her act­ion, He gave a thou­sand praises to it, and made her as many pro­testations of faithfull service; in a word, Madam, he spoke to [Page 70] as a man may speak to a Woman that he thinks handsome, and as one who begun to know Henrietta was no long­er the Daughter of his Mistress, I can say that, without doing him an injury.

She did from that very moment perceive it well enough, and was troubled at it: but ha­ving need to draw some body to embrace [Page 71] her present interest, she forbore to commit a second Crime by ex­posing her self to be known a Murtherer in revenge of the hopes that the Mar­quis might conceive to her disadvantage. Far from being so scrupu­ [...]ous, she did return him thanks for his ge­nerosity, and had for him all the complai­sance that she might [Page 72] in honesty have; and I dare say, such a conjunction of affairs was necessary to make Silvia take a declarati­on of Love without anger, so great an ene­my she was then, and had till that time ever been to it.

She was two dayes in Birague his Castle, without hearing any news from the Town, but what he sent her [Page 73] by a Gentleman of his: And to that hour there had not been as yet any danger for her. On the contrary, the fear they were in at home, lest she was fallen into the hands of those Masked men, did re­double their sadness, and their moans. But it was not so the day after, when the fever that took the Financier [Page 74] had made him speak, and talk idle in his ra­ving before he dyed. He had very near dis­covered the whole business; and taking his Wife for Silvia, whom he did call for every moment, he had reproached her with the Pistol shot; They understood by some other broken discour­ses that Silvia was the person he meant. The [Page 75] whole House was pre­sently set in an uproar thereby; the people began to accuse her, in­stead of pitying her as they did before; and with the greater vio­lence did they pro­claim War against her, by reason that the on­ly Son of the Family, whose Sister Silvia was thought to be, was dead, as I have said before, and she was [Page 76] left the only obstacle that kept back the Hus­band's Kindred from becoming his Heirs in a considerable Estate. The Lady Moliere her self, notwithstanding all the considerations by which she was tyed to Henrietta, for the Dukes sake, whom she did not hate whilst he lived, and upon the account of some other engagements, [Page 77] did think that it would not become her any longer to let Silvia go under the name of her Daughter. It may be also that another poli­cy gave her a ground to consider with her self that she would prove a Widdow much more fit to mar­ry again when it should be known that she had no Children. In a word, she was [Page 78] resolv'd to let Silvia be gone and perish; and nothing was in all likely-hood so easie as to undo her. The Duke of Kendale was dead e're since the year Sixteen hundred and fifty seven; And that gallant Duke, whose generosity perhaps did not alwayes like a noise best, had not acquain­ted many more people besides the Financier [Page 79] and his Wife with what Silvia was; lest, as I presume, it should be known, what Charity he had in using her as if he had been her own Father. But Silvia's good fortune did not forsake her in this oc­currence. Monsieur de Birague being de­sirous to lay many ob­ligations upon her, du­ring the space of some Moneths, did use [Page 80] so many, and so suc­cessfull endeavours in that affair, and in ano­ther that fell out after­wards, that it gave time to the same good fortune that formerly led the Duke of Ken­dale to the Cottage of the Nurse, to bring yet a great Lady from Flanders in the Low-Countries, to take as special care of Silvia as if she had been [Page 81] her own Mother.

When Silvia began to be suspected, all was like to have been set on fire about her; but the Marquis pre­venting the storm that was gathering, did re­present to his Mistress, that for a thousand reasons, both of In­terest and of Honour, it would be better for her to protect Silvia than to undo her; and [Page 82] these reasons being back't by the sensible and powerfull charms that were in the per­son of the Cavaleir that spoke them, were at least thought solid of the fair Widdow, if they were not so in­deed. Thus at the end of a few dayes, and after some forged Adventures, to excuse her absence, and to set a pretence for her [Page 83] return, Monsieur de Birague brought her the news, that she was free to go out of Sersac Castle. As she pre­sently resolv'd to do, and so went to put her self into a Nunnery a League distant from it.

The Marquis did af­terwards contrive a thousand things to have the occasion to come to see her there without [Page 84] putting his Widdow to a jealousie; The relating of which, per­haps, would not be un­pleasant; For he did build, as I have said, very much upon the obligations that Silvia was like, in time, to have him: He never mist an occasion to per­swade her that he had left loving Madam de Moliere upon any other account but that only [Page 85] of using his best endea­vours with her to per­swade her to wrap up for ever into a silence all the things that Sil­via had occasion to be afraid of. He did write to her some­times so pleasantly up­on that subject, when he had no sufficient pretence to visit her, that the Lady Abbess, with whom Silvia had contracted a very strict [Page 86] Friendship, did there­by share with her in one of the best sports in the World; most chiefly when he sent them word, that the anguish of mind, which Silvia's indif­ferency caused him, did get him an incredible tenderness from his Widdow, who interpreted it to a redoubling of his love to her. But let [Page 87] us go on further, and say this only by the way, That Silvia lost her self by the folly that she had to please that toy of an Abbess, who would have her to answer Bi­rague. The Letter fell, I know not how, into the Widdow's hands. By the read­ing of which, she did acknowledge her self guiltless of that lan­guishing [Page 88] condition she had pity'd in a man who made sacrifice of her to another Idol. This put her into a madness and fury; her jealousie from that time did swear the ruine of Henrietta; and she resolved at last to chastise her unfaithful Lover, by awakening that business which lay asleep. In vain did he bring all the [Page 89] reasons imaginable to appease her, and to take out of her mind the thoughts that he should be so deeply in love with Silvia. She had strength enough to dis­semble her displea­sure, till she did sur­prize the answer that he was to make; but this was far worse than the Letter. There was bloody railings [Page 90] against her, whom he made a fool of, and did so insult upon, as that all her love was turn'd into an extream impatiency of being revenged of both. To that end she began to publish the secret of Silvia's Birth, and to give proofs how she did belong neither to her nor to her Hus­band. The Novelty of the thing did pre­sently [Page 91] raise a great noise in the Town. The Kindred of the dead man met again to­gether to advise about the means they should use to destroy her. All that the Marquis of Birague was able to do for Silvia in this Alarm, was instantly to get on Horse-back, and e're they should think to lay hold of her, to secure her him­self. [Page 92] To that end he took her out of the Cloyster, and conceal­ed her in a strong place belonging to the Coun­tess of Englesac, the Abbess's Sister, which was not above a League distant from the Con­vent.

The Countess of Englesac is a Widdow of great Honour and Virtue, and very de­vout, as well as mag­nificent, [Page 93] and one that loveth to live with her Friends in all manner of honest pleasures. She had, when Silvia came to her House, two of her Daughters with her, and a Son, that I may term the most accomp­lished Gentleman in the Kingdom. Fine eyes, a mouth as hand­som, or more; an air of greatness with [Page 94] him; a shape that was at the same time free, high, and full of Ma­jesty: a readiness and address at all man­ner of Exercises, be­yond the reach of a parallel; a gallant wit, a Princely soul, the Valour of an Heroe, are the least commen­dations I can give to that Person. Let your Highness excuse this Character of him [Page 95] from the very hand of Silvia, to whom he has been dear enough to deserve yet greater transports than this: And he is now the man that must have the greatest share in all the rest of my Relati­on.

Silvia received in that Noble House all manner of assistance, and of good usage du­ring the hottest perse­cution [Page 96] of her Enemies. And all the Family took it as a point of Honour to protect her in so extraordinary a disgrace, which they termed the effect of an Heroick Action, rather than a base and cow­ardly Murther, as the Lady Moliere would have it. And at last, the Court being then in Provence, they did obtain Silvia's pardon [Page 97] from the King, with all manner of Advan­tages against her Ad­versaries.

But Fortune, who did not intend Silvia should long remain without Crosses, that she might the oftner have the pleasure to relieve her, would not suffer that favour to last long. The Marquis of Birague, who had really set his [Page 98] mind upon her, and was an intimate Friend to Madam of Engle­sac her Son, did so frequently speak to him of Silvia, and of the pleasure that a man should reap from the being belov'd of her, that the young Gen­tleman believed him, and soon began to look upon her for himself. His eyes did tell Sil­via of it, who was not [Page 99] insensible of his pain; and she may, without blushing, confess it, since she is like to be sufficiently justified of that by what follow­eth in her story.

'Tis fit that your Highness should know how the young Gen­tleman began to de­clare himself.

The Countess of Englesac upon a Sun­day in Lent had a [Page 100] Sermon in her Chap­pel, wherein a Monk that preach'd it, did with extraordinary e­loquence enlarge him­self upon the deceit­fulness and uncharita­bleness of the times; pretending that Wild Creatures had a great­er kindness, and were more true to one ano­ther than men among themselves. As the Lady was very de­vout, [Page 101] she did not for­get to speak of the Sermon, and make it the Subject of dis­course at the Table, asking Silvia and Eng­lesac, and the rest of her Children, what they thought of it. The young Earl was no soon­er up from the Table, but he went to his Chamber, & presently after came back to Sil­via, desiring of her that [Page 102] she would let him see her S. Heures, that is, her Book of De­votion; and having scarce open'd it, he re­turn'd it her with these words; There are a great many Truths in this Book, and those of very great importance. Yet all Truths are not fit to be known of every body; therefore keep those to your self, I pray. Silvia understood not [Page 103] his words, but she could reade in his Countenance that he meant something which he did not ex­press: Therefore long­ing to open the Book, she went to her Cham­ber, and locking up her self, she found in the Book a little paper, with these words in it.

I know not whether to blame or pity those [Page 104] that say there is no Charity nor Love a­mongst men, and that they know not what is become of them, when it is so clear both that you alone deserve, and that I have for you all the Love that can be ima­gined in the World. 'Tis much indeed, but not too much; and if I could part with some to any body, 'twere only to you, and upon that [Page 105] account, that I hope I should be no loser by it, but rather gain more, if it were possible to add any thing to that I have already.

I shall not trouble your Highness with many notes of that kind, as the Authors of Romances use to do. This story being true, I must add only, that the young Lover in his Lady's Hours [Page 106] met very happily with his own, which was so like the Shepherd's Houre, as the French call it, as that when he came to call for an An­swer, whereof he had the opportunity that same Evening, he found that Silvia had more faith for what he writ, than for what the Preacher said. It was not long e're Birague did perceive this love, [Page 107] and thereupon grew jealous, and so infinite­ly jealous, as to resolve to admit of no regard, and make no reserve, to get his revenge on Sil­via, and punish her for having preferr'd that Gentleman to him. Yet Silvia did excuse him upon that account, that it may be a Lover when he is a loser does not think himself in [Page 108] the common use bound to more civility, what­soever examples all the Romances in the World can bring to the contrary. Those be fine speculations. But it is the defect of humane Nature, that nothing can be reduced to practise either in Morals, or in any o­ther experiments, which cometh not ve­ry short of the Rule [Page 109] that right Reason doth prescribe to it. The Marquis gave notice under-hand to the Countess of the love of her Son, and made her think of what dan­gerous consequence it might be to her Family. The Lady, who did not want am­bition, and who had reason enough to be ambitious, her Family being one of the No­blest, [Page 110] and of the Rich­est in the Kingdome, was not slack in that business. She took a fit opportunity to draw Silvia into her Closet, that she might speak with her in private; and having told her, that she knew her to be so wise as not to be in danger of ever yielding to any act of folly, and so just and ac­knowledging, as not [Page 111] to be desirous to make her advantage of the folly of her Son; con­cluding, that she desi­red her that she would so cut off all hope to her Son, that he should forsake the design he had lately engaged in. Do not you be angry, said the Countess to Silvia, seeing that her discourse had made her blush, that I speak to you so freely. 'Tis [Page 112] because I love you dearly, and would ne­ver forgive my self, if for want of giving you timely notice, you should engage in any thing that might oblige me to desire your ab­fence, and to complain of you.

A secret pain, which succeeded Silvia's blush, had kept her eyes down till the Countess made an end of her dis­course. [Page 113] And although she did fore-see that she should have much to do to observe what she was going to promise; Yet, lest the Countess should resolve to put her away, she pass'd her word for what that good Lady would have her. It was not long e're this resolution did vex the young Earl ex­treamly, who was not able to imagine with [Page 114] himself the cause of the alteration that he saw in Silvia. A hun­dred times he would have asked her what occasion she had to do so? But still she was so wel observ'd, somtimes of Birague, sometimes of the Mother, that she durst never speak with him, for all she was near as desirous as the Gen­tleman to have done it; whilst the good man [Page 115] taking it for a slight of him, grew so desperate upon it, that he fell dangerously sick.

And in this place, Madam, I could wish your Highness would please to dispense me of the Law that I have made my self, to say many things in few words, and give me leave to be less short in the Relation of that Love which is yet dear [Page 116] to my memory. But I fear Silvia may be deceived in that hope she hath that she shall give your Highness an account of things that will please you, whilst they may, perhaps, please none but her self, who is still con­cern'd in them. What a folly it is for a Wo­man to be in Love! And how unhappy must she be that hath [Page 117] Honour and Virtue both with Love? what a sufferer was poor Silvia during the dayes that her Lover kept his Bed, and she was not suffered to see him? What pains did he suffer himself whilst he did not see her? I believe the spight he took of it was that that made him get up the sooner, out of the desire he had to [Page 118] reproach her with her hard-heartedness. I remember the very words he told her in that spightful humour, which he did conclude in himself was the best grounded in the world. The Countess of Eng­lesac was employed on a certain day to enter­tain the Duke of Vil­lars, and the Bishop of Aggde, who came to­gether to visit her. [Page 119] The Chevalier des Es­sars, a worthy Gentle­man, and the handsom­est man in his Country, was come along with them.

And, as I have said already, that the Count of Englesac had two Sisters, the Eldest of which the Chevalier made love to; I think the Duke was come thither on purpose to find a way to match [Page 120] them together; and I cannot tell what was the reason that the Match was not conclu­ded. However, whilst the Mother was talk­ing in a great Room with the Duke, the Bishop had put the rest of the Company in mind of going into a Gallery, and all went to sit down at the end of it. Silvia's young Earl came thither also to sit [Page 121] by her; and having first sighed very deep­ly that she did not look upon him (for she durst not do it, by rea­son his younger Sister did hold her on the o­ther side, and lean'd fooling on her shoul­der) he told her softly, with a tone full of spight; You will have me dye: I can see it well enough; yea, you will have it so, and [Page 122] it is easie to see that you would have been plea­sed if you had seen me dye of my last sickness; But I shall live long e­nough yet to reproach you with your inconstan­cy oftner than you would have it.

Silvia not answering him any thing, but on the contrary, lest his Sister should hear what he told her, turn­ing her shoulder to [Page 123] him, and making a shew of fooling with her whilst he spoke. This provoking more and more his anger, he went on with these words; You are, I must tell it you again, the most unsincere per­son in the World, thus to hide your self from me. And you are no less unjust whilst you punish a man that you will not hear speak for [Page 124] himself. Whatsoever doth fill the room of your heart, which was only due to me, I hope it shall have but a short joy of it. By my desti­ny I can fore-see that of my Rivals, none of which can pretend to be more happy in you than he that did love you more than any man else in the World can do; and for ought I see, more also than you [Page 125] deserve. To this he added so many re­proachful words, that Silvia had much ado to keep her tears from appearing, and to an­swer him; she cover'd her face with her Fan, and taking her time when the Chevalier des Essars had obliged the young Lady Englesac to turn her self to­wards him, she told that desperate Lover, [Page 126] looking side-wayes on him, these words; Be silent, do no longer afflict me. What I do I do by meer force, and constraint. I am the most unhappy Woman in the World, and I do wish I had never seen you. She rose up from her seat presently after these words, taking his Sister along with her, and went away; resolving to avoid a [Page 127] commerce, which could not be otherwise than hurtfull to them both.

It would be too hard for me to express the perplexity of mind, and the trouble where­in that loving Gentle­man found himself up­on the hearing of this news. He knew very well, for all he said, that Silvia was sincere, and that she must have [Page 128] very pregnant causes, and reasons for what she did, since she did speak to him in that manner. Yet she had not said enough to his mind, and nothing could satisfie him but another interview, to clear himself of the doubts which he was left in. What did not he do to obtain it?

It is almost incredi­ble, Madam, and it [Page 129] was such a thing as was still worthy of Silvia, who was destined to see, and to occasion all manner of extraordi­nary effects. He set fire to one part of the Castle, because he could devise no other way to disperse all the people that seemed to be hired to vex him, and his Love, but by obliging them to fear something of worse [Page 130] than their meet­ings.

The Countess of Englesac will possibly wonder, when she shall reade here the true cause of this Ac­cident, which other­wise she might proba­bly have been for ever ignorant of. Such was the passion her Son had for Silvia. And she sometimes spoke a greater truth than she [Page 131] was aware of, when to express the trouble oc­casioned to her Family by Silvia, she said, that fair Lady had brought fire into her House.

Silvia indeed was never so surprized as she found her self when she saw that per­plext Lover come in­to her Appartment, where he fell on his knees before her, [Page 132] whilst the rest were sa­ving themselves almost in their shirts, for it was in the night; And when hindering her from running away with them, he con­fest to her, that he had caused that disorder on purpose. Fear nothing, said he, there is a ditch full of Water betwixt us and the fire; You may be safe here, and never stir from your [Page 133] Chamber; Deny me not one moment to hear me, when I do sacrifice all to so dear an occa­sion.

Silvia did what he desired, and heard him, whilst she was making her self ready. Being convinc'd, that he must be in great need of speaking with her, who for that pur­pose only had set his House on fire. She [Page 134] told him the reason of all the cold usage he had found by her of late, in her feigned slights, and the dis­course she had had with his Mother; and lastly, the promises which she thought her self obliged to make that Lady, lest she should take a resolu­tion to part them.

The Lights he got by this Conference [Page 135] did him all the good in the World. And last­ly, Madam, after a quick deliberation a­bout what measures they should keep to deceive their Over­seers for the time to come. She saw her Gentleman so well pleased, that he would not for a great deal, not to have burnt a piece of a fair Building.

Mean while the [Page 136] fire which was seen afar off had Alarm'd the Neighbouring Towns and Castles round about. The Marquis de Birague being but four or five miles off, was none of the last that perceiv­ed that it was our Ca­stle which was on fire. He got his Horses sad­led, and rid up in hast to us. Not finding Sil­via among the other [Page 137] Ladies in the Park, where they were fled, he ran every where to know what was be­come of her; He went up to her Chamber at last, and was like to have surprized there the Earl of Englesac. But as the Marquis (to whom indeed she was then extreamly obli­ged) did as he went call her with a loud voyce, and made much [Page 138] noise, that gave time to the Earl to hide himself. Silvia did e­scape that danger, by counterfeiting her self to be in a swoon, that so she might be excu­sed for staying behind. And by enduring some kisses, that the Mar­quis took on her cheeks, for his pains of carrying her away in his Arms; She did abide it, and made no [Page 139] shew of coming to her self again till she was a pretty way out of her Chamber, so that the cold Air might seem to have done it.

Since that time the brave Earl, and the fair Lady did live to­gether with a great deal of care and circum­spection; and the bet­ter to conceal their Love, they feigned to hate one another mor­tally. [Page 140] They laid this plot, and went on with it with discretion and cunning enough, pre­tending for it the most probable causes that was possible for them to invent. Birague was so glad of it, that he was the first person deceiv'd in it. Engle­sac's Mother was the next, and to that degree as to chide her Son for it, and seek out a thou­sand [Page 141] wayes of shewing her love to Silvia, to comfort her as to the hatred of that Gentle­man, and to assure her of her protection a­gainst him. In a word, they were happy, had they but been content with this precaution.

A man of Quality of that Country, about that time fell in Love with Silvia at a Visit that he made to th [...] [Page 142] Countess of Englesac; For though she had no intention to intangle any body else into her Love, and was content with that she found in Englesac, yet it is ve­ry hard for such per­sons as have set their hearts at rest, & enjoy the happiness that Sil­via found her in, to for­bear being extream ci­vil to others, and shew­ing them that complai­sance [Page 143] and good humour by which they are catcht on a sudden, be­fore either party be a­ware of it. The Earl, who knew wherein lay the true charms of Sil­via, would have her make as if she had liked his Love well. This was too much subtilty. That Gentleman be­came deeply in Love with her, did often write to her; and the [Page 144] Earl, by a youthful im­prudence, took a fancy to make him an answer in Silvia's name, where­in the humour of ma­king a sport on't caused him to take the Liber­ty to make her speak amourously enough. This undiscreet Rival, as scarce any man can forbear to be otherwise when they think they are in favour, and even when they do not [Page 145] think so, shew'd this Letter to a Friend. That Friend told it a­nother; This told it to Birague, who be­lieved it to be Silvia's hand, and complained of it very much to her. She did chide the young Earl for it, see­ing the wrong that Letter did her; But he acknowledging his errour, and thinking to mend it by a greater [Page 146] fault, took a resoluti­on to discover that himself was the Au­thor of that writing; and that he had made only for to put a jest up­on his Rival. In conclu­sion, a very great mis­chance was occasioned by these follies.

Not long after the Chevalier des Essars gave the divertisement of a Ball (or Feast with Dances) as the custom [Page 147] is in France, to the El­der of the Ladies of Englesac. There was a great Assembly, and very good Company, which the nearness of the Court had occasio­ned to meet at the Marquis d' Ampus. The two Rivals were there; and having pickt a Quarrel, I know not how, they agreed to meet the next Morn­ing about a Town, [Page 148] called Villeneufue: Their Combat was bloody, two Seconds were kill'd upon the place, and the Earl's Adversary very much wounded. This busi­ness had two very sad effects. The one, that the King having re­new'd his Edicts against Duels, there was no safety for Silvia's poor Lover to stay any lon­ger in France. And [Page 149] the other, that when the true cause of that Duel came to be known, the Countess of Englesac could not but see clearly, that the hatred betwixt her Son and Silvia, was but a trick they had joynt­ly contriv'd to put up­on her.

Nothing at that time could have happened to Silvia of worse con­sequence than that. For [Page 150] as she was the visible cause of all that trou­ble, and of all those disorders that the Countess was fall'n into with her whole Family. That good Lady the very next morning commanded her to be carried away into a Cloyster, at the same time strictly for­bidding to let any body come to her, till she were resolved to take [Page 151] the Vow of a Nun. Besides the affliction of being thus closely shut up, Silvia had a­nother in this occur­rence, which was, that the Cloyster she was lockt in was not that where she had been be­fore, and where being acquainted with the Abbess, the Count of Englesac his Aunt, she might have found some society in her com­pany. [Page 152] But it was a Convent; Good Lord! what Convent? That did rather look like a gastly Prison than any thing else. She was kept there two whole Moneths, and in the mean while her dear Earl of Englesac was making his escape into Piemont; where the fairest Ladies doing their best to get his Love, did justifie the [Page 153] tender inclination Sil­via had for him.

At the end of those two Moneths the King came to Avignon in his return from Marseil­les, and whilst he staid there a little while up­on the occasion of the Cittadel of Orange, which he did not like to see in a posture of de­fence, and strongly for­tified, in the heart of his Kingdom. All the [Page 154] Gallants of the Court, during that while, did spread themselves every where; and the Parlours of the Reli­gious House had a share in that inundation of Courtiers. In that U­niversal rejoycing of the little people of God, who were very glad to admire the Gallantry of so many worthy Gentlemen, and in their persons to [Page 155] Honour their great King, Silvia was us'd with less severity. And although the La­dy Englesac did not consent to it, she was sometimes suffered to see the World at the Parlour, that she might not have an occasion to accuse the rest of her Companions.

I cannot forbear tel­ling your Highness by the way, that this pas­sage of the Court [Page 156] through Avignon gave such a joy to the youngest of those Re­cluded Women, as that they could not hear that the Gover­nour of Orange should surrender the place by composition, but they would make a thousand imputations against the cowardise of that man, and thought him wor­thy of the greatest pu­nishment, for not stop­ping [Page 157] the Kings Journey for a whole year, by a stout resistance.

Birague not having forsook the fair Silvia, and still ready to put on afresh for his ends, took this opportunity to continue to offer his Service to her. And a little while after, by the means of a Gentle­man, to whom Engle­sac had sent some Let­ters for her, she had [Page 158] an assurance that she was still belov'd, where she liked best. Nay, one of the Nuns, to increase her felicity by a new Subject of joy, did the same day Prophesie unto her, that Love would in short draw her out of Captivity. 'Tis true, that for a good while she was not able to apprehend how that might be done. It [Page 159] seeming to her that she was kept so well, and so close, as that with­out her Lover should come again to set fire to her Prison, it was almost an impossible thing for any body else to encompass. The Wall indeed of a certain little Garden might be climbed over, but the Superiour had alwayes the Key, and it was not possible to [Page 160] get into it, but by her leave. These were the things that Silvia did oppose to the hopes the Nun would have given her: But she re­plyed not to any, she said only, that it would be as she had told her; and that she ought to be at rest for any thing else.

Three dayes after, the Duke of Lorrain, whose Treaty of [Page 161] Peace had been conclu­ded at St. Jean de Luz, came Post to meet the King at Avignon. This Prince, still more gal­lant than unfortunate, and a Worshipper of the fair Sex, as well under the veil, as in other Dresses; after his Complements at Court, went to increase the number of those that us'd to attaque the Parlours. The [Page 162] Duke of Guyse that was then, followed him afterwards; and this Prince sticking more to the company of Silvia than that of any other; she did presently imagine that the Prophesie had some regard to him, & that he was the man by whose means she was to get her Liber­ty. He did really fol­low her so close from [Page 163] the first to the last day; and shew'd her his Love and respect in so obliging a manner, that he gave her, not only the hopes of her Li­berty, but even of a great Fortune, if she would but hear him. And more than this; She could not forbear thinking, that she should in a short time see all things accom­plished when she heard [Page 164] that the Duke had had the goodness to speak to the Queen-Mother about her business. But her good Fortune was stopt there, and went no further for this time. The old Coun­tess of Englesac having some notice given her by her Spies, of the Duke's designs, had prevented the good mind of that great Princess. She had [Page 165] given her such a perni­cious Character of Sil­via's conduct, as made her guilty of all the misfortune of her Son, and of all the trouble of her Family, of the last blood-shed, and of the breaking of the King's Edicts. The Mar­queeze des Essars, and even that of Am­pus, went also to teIl the Queen that no­thing could be done by [Page 166] her Majesty that were of greater merit before God, than to keep that young Lady close shut up. This was e­nough to set the Queen extreamly against Sil­via. The Duke of Guyse could not prevail to have her removed, nor to get the least favour for her; the Queen refused him absolute­ly, though with very good Grace; telling [Page 167] him he was somewhat too gallant an Interces­sor, to expose a young Lady to the danger of being so extraordinari­ly obliged to him. He made a second attempt the next day, and set on again on the same errand, being assisted by Monsieur de Lor­rain, and by a certain Princess, which did of­fer to be surety for Sil­via. But the Queen [Page 168] could not be removed from her resolution. Yet some Friends ha­ving made a charitable party for Silvia, it was mutter'd abroad, that if she were desirous to get her Liberty, she must buy it with mar­rying Old Cabrieres, who had offered Ma­dam of Englesac to take her.

The Duke of Guyse would himself be the [Page 169] Messenger of this news, rightly conceiv­ing, that if Silvia should hear it from any body else, the answer that she would give to it, without any more, would render useless, and vain all his former endeavours. And he was not really very much mistaken in that, for she had much ado to hear that proposal from the Duke's own [Page 170] mouth. And seeing that he did seriously apply himself to make her apprehend of what Advantage it was very often to a handsom Woman to have a Husband not altoge­ther worthy of her Love; and in whose defects she might find a more than reasonable dispensation from con­jugal duties; Out of a gay and foolish hu­mour, [Page 171] which she was in at all times, she found more subject of mirth and laughter, than of affliction, in that the great hopes which she had conceiv­ed of the Duke's nego­tiation were vanisht all away of a sudden; she therefore answered him smilingly, that he did but jest, and that she had rather have heard him speak for [Page 172] himself, than for that Old Husband he did offer her. The Duke began to laugh as well as she, finding a certain charm and allurement in her folly, which en­gaged him still to love her the more. Thus the business was ended, and the Prophesie had no other effect on that side.

The Nun, whom Silvia did acquaint [Page 173] secretly, and as a friend, with all these passages, could see very well the errour she was in for want of construing her words right. For she did not mean, when she said, that Love would set her free, that it should be that of any of those Princes. But being discreet, she did not think fit to display unto her more particu­lars, till she did see all [Page 174] things in a disposition to favour the good suc­cess of her Prophesie; and when she knew it was time to do it, she discovered the whole plot to her.

During those mo­ments of Liberty, which the Nuns did enjoy at their Par­lours, against the Rule of their Order, since the coming near of the King, which was done [Page 175] only to Honour that great Monarch with something of extraor­dinary. Fouquet, a young Gentleman, ex­treamly full of wit, had tied a Friendship with that Nun of Sil­via's acquaintance. She was Daughter to the last Baron de Fontaine, who (after the politi­cal custom of the great­est part of the French Nobility) to enrich his [Page 176] Son had made an offer­ing of her to a Con­vent. This poor victime had many times protested against her Vows. Her Bro­ther also was dead since her being shut up, and she was extremly vext to see a fair Estate, to which she was the right Heir, go away into the hands of two Aunts of hers. Fouquet finding [Page 177] some charm in her company, could no more than she bear with so great a Tyran­ny; he had promis'd her his assistance, and love improving his power every moment the more in these two Lovers, by reason of the grate that with­stood it, Birague still blowing the fire (For this plot was not laid without him;) That [Page 178] Gentleman had at the last resolv'd upon the carrying the Lady a­way. They had weigh­ed every thing, and put all in a readiness; the Key of the Garden they had got, and coun­terfeited it, and a Tour­reere (she that keeps the turning-box in a Nunnery, through which things are con­veyed, and the people both wayes unseen) [Page 179] was in the plot, for all things are possible to Love, that wisheth it self rid out of a Con­vent, and hopes to be set free from the Vow of a Cloyster-life.

The night that the execution was to be, The Nun opened the whole mystery to Sil­via, and asked her if she would be glad by the same means, that Fouquet should free [Page 180] her from the hands of her persecutors. At first she was surprized with that proposal; and could not like abso­lutely of such proceed­ings; yet after she had made some further re­flexion upon the con­dition that she was in, which was like to last long enough if she did not take hold of the occasion that offered to set her self at Liberty; [Page 181] She was content to meet the Nun in the Gar­den about mid-night: which was perform'd very cunningly; they had staid hardly a quar­ter of an hour, when they heard the signal agreed on with Fou­quet, who when they had answered him; be­gan to set his leggs over the Wall, and come down the row of Trees, that were set [Page 182] on it; whose Pails and Stakes being none of the strongest, made a noise as they brake. Silvia was then terri­bly affrighted, and it may be said, ten times more than the Nun, though she did in effect run much lesser haz­zard. Fouquet per­ceiving it, did all he could to settle her mind, and to encou­rage her; and lest they [Page 183] should lose time, he begun to set his fair Nun on her way.

I wish I were able to set out clearly to your Highness that rare and pleasant way he took to carry his Ladies over the Wall; It being un­safe to take their way by the broken Stakes. He bow'd himself down, resting with his hands against the Wall, and so had them one [Page 184] after another upon his back. Then would he raise himself up by de­grees, with the La­dy thus got on his shoulders, and she holding fast in the mean while of some Iron hooks that were in the Wall. Next he ascended upon a great stone which lay at his feet; Last of all, the Women put their feet a top of the Gentle­man's [Page 185] Head, from whence they were able to sit upon the Wall. Being got thither, a kind of a Vallet de Chambre, (who needed not to reach so high on his side, by reason the ground was higher,) did receive them on Horse-back; The La­dies had Hats given them, which they put on, together with long Cloaks, to hide their [Page 186] Petticoats; And in that Equipage they Rid like Horse-men out of the City, which did not use to be shut up at night since the King's coming into those parts.

They had gone on a good way e're Silvia was able to know whi­ther they were lead; And she turning in her mind a thousand thoughts, sometimes [Page 187] pleasant enough, some­times very sad, was continually reflecting upon the sad effects that this carrying of her self, and the Nun away might have in time. The Marquis de Birague, whom she knew to be a man of intrigue, watchfull, and ready to take all Advantages, was none of the things that troubled her the least, [Page 188] nor no Enemy to be slighted. And she would sometimes say to Fouquet and his Nymph, that of ma­lice had begun to men­tion him to her; You shall see that man will turn himself so many wayes, as that at last he will find us out, and spoyl our affairs. Why, why? would then say the Nun, I take Birague [Page 189] to be a gallanter man than so, and I could trust him as soon as any body. Fouquet, who as well as the Nun, did betray Silvia, would add to that, that real­ly Birague was a very honest Gentleman, and fitter to serve a Lady than to put her to any trouble. True, said Silvia then, if he were less concern'd for his own Interest, and [Page 190] would not desire still a recompence and pay­ment for every small obligation that one may have him; But I never saw a man so tiring, and that goes more straightly to his end than he doth.

Thus the good com­pany went on their way, Fouquet, and his fair Prize giving a thousand Commenda­tions to Birague. And [Page 191] Silvia not concealing any thing of what she misliked in him, where­at they were ready to burst with laughing; And calling to their Vallet de Chambre, they would jeer him for be­ing asleep. You may judge, Madam, whe­ther they might not di­vert themseIves, and be merry, since the Vallet de Chambre was no o­ther than the Marquis [Page 192] of Birague himself, who had made this plot with Fouquet, and was carrying Silvia to one of his Houses; But the case was a little al­ter'd when they alight­ed; The Nun, who was indeed less affraid of men than Silvia, said then to Birague with a loud voyce, Come on, Noble Val­let de Chambre, will you please to light [Page 193] down, and help this fair Lady to do the same? But Silvia cry­ed out so loud, as that it might have been heard at a great di­stance, when some lights being brought to the door she saw the face of Birague; and the Company had e­nough to do to settle her spirits from the fright that she took at that sight: Why then [Page 194] would say that poor Gentleman, who was really afflicted to see Silvia so hard set a­gainst him; Had you rather, in good faith, be still in the Cloyster, and lye open to the re­venge of Madam of Englesac, and all the effects that in time it was like to have brought upon you, than to think your self a little beholden to [Page 195] me for your Liberty? Fouquet and his Lady did much help him to perswade Silvia to shew her self less wild, and more acknowledg­ing of his intended good Service. And she was at last, with much ado, prevail'd upon to pardon them that treachery. Next, they advised all toge­ther, what measures they should take to [Page 196] avoid, or prevent the ill consequences of that Escapade. ^w Silvia, and the Religious Woman went both to bed toge­ther; and the Gentle­men thought fit to re­turn to Avignon before day, that they might both shew themselves there, and hear the news of the Town: And so went in at ano­ther Gate than that they had gone out by.

It was scarce break of day when the Alarm began to be very hot in the Monastery. The news of the La­die's flight was spread abroad in a moment. An Aunt of the Nun, which was then at the Court, did complain very highly of the Nuns, saying, they had given their consent to the flight of her Niece. The Lady of [Page 198] Englesac fearing lest her Son, of whose par­don she had still some hopes, should take the opportunity of marry­ing Silvia somewhere out of France, spoke yet with more earnest­ness than any body; And did even implore the Queen's Justice. Her Majesty suspecting the Duke of Guyse had a hand in the business, did look less kindly [Page 199] upon him all that day: The Duke, who was very innocent of all, did protest that he had no share in it: And de­siring to remove all suspition from him, seat some of his own Servants to seek after the Nuns. So that Silvia and her Cam­rade were not a little busie, being embark't into an affair of that consequence, and [Page 200] having so many set up against them. All they could do was only to let things slumber a little, and slip out of the dis­course and memory of men, whilst the King was reducing Orange; and in the mean while to comfort themselves the best they were able in Birague's House.

It hath not been the Opinion, nor the talk of the World, that [Page 201] those two Gentlemen were, during that time, as wise and sober as the strictest Monks; Every body hath been incli­nable rather to believe they made use of the opportunity, and did enjoy those Goods which Fortune seemed to offer unto them. Yet Silvia cannot but do them that Justice, as to profess, that never men were more respectfull, [Page 202] nor more modest, that in the condition where­in she saw her self, and full of fears, and ter­rours as she was, she did not hope they would have been so discreet, and so tem­perate. And that it was then that she began to set a greater value upon Birague then she had ever done before: Let any body else that will, be as just to her, as [Page 203] she is to the Gentle­man.

Silvia and the Nun did not stay long in that House. For the King a few dayes after had the Keys of Orange delivered to him, and having set a good num­ber of Pioneers to de­molish the Cittadel, he went all along the low­er Languedoc, till he came to the Isle of the Conference, where the [Page 204] Infanta was to meet him. Fouquet, who wanted neither wit nor Friends, did think fit to make use of the pas­sage of that little Ar­my, which commonly does compose the at­tendance of Kings, to ride away with less sus­pition out of a dange­rous Neighbour-hood. He put the Ladies into Chariots of Baggage, dressed them like [Page 205] Merchant's Wives following the Court, and the word being given to take on the right hand, when they should come beyond Carcassonne, he had them carried to Thou­louse, under pretence of going thither to take in Provisions for Mon­sieur, the King's Brother.

The Lady President ^x of — I know not [Page 206] what, I have forgot her name; A good Old Widdow, and a Couzen of the Nun's, who had never ap­prov'd of her being forc'd to take the vows of a Religious Life, received them both in­to her House; And taking presently in hand the defence of her Kins-woman, brought her cause to the Parliament, of [Page 207] whom she desired a Warrant for her Niece to have the liberty of her Person, that she might pursue the dis­solution of her Vows. She obtain'd it at last, after a long time, and much ado; And Fou­quet, although he had been put almost to all the trouble, did not reap the fruit of it. But I need say no more of the circumstancs of that [Page 208] story, which now has nothing to do with that of Silvia.

Being come to the Old President, she did not think her self much safer there than in Birague his House. It may be she was less; For Fame, that Mon­ster, that grows big­ger and bigger as it sets forward, had spread the noise of her Story as far as Thoulouse, [Page 209] and drawn her Cha­racter in far worser co­lours than those the Marqueeze of Ampus, and the Countess of Englesac had made use of, to ruine her, with the Queen. Several came every day, with­out knowing who she was, to tell her Sto­ries, or Fables rather, of her Life, which did not a little vex the poor Lady. On the other [Page 210] side, the Old Presi­dent seeming to suspect somewhat of the truth, though Silvia went on­ly for a Maid that wait­ed on the Nun, was not very well pleas'd to see her in her House; It was much worse when her Cousen, thinking to do Silvia good Ser­vice, did open the whole Mystery unto her. She took excep­tion against those [Page 211] assiduities of Birague; And the jealousie of the Marqueeze his Wife, which did now pro­claim every where, how much she did sus­pect the familiarity of her Husband with Sil­via, gave another on­set to the business. The watchfulness and dili­gence that the Coun­tess of Englesac did use for to find her out, went still beyond all [Page 212] the rest of her persecu­tions. The good Old Woman was affraid lest any body should come to her Cousin to be inform'd of what was become of Silvia. For the Nun was now no longer concealed; and it was easie for any body to think that be­ing both miss'd in the Convent at the same time, they had gone out together, and knew [Page 213] something one of the other. All that caused the good Woman, un­der a fair pretence of being careful of Sil­via's Interest, to ad­vise her to go out of Languedoc as soon as she should be able.

Silvia understood what she meant, and took it for granted, that she must be gone, and that it must be so; but yet found her self in a [Page 214] strange perplexity of mind, not knowing any further which way to go, nor how to dispose of her self, as having no Friends, no Kin­dred, no Acquaintance that she could think of; So that the only refuge that was left to her, was to resign her self again to Birague's discreti­on. He offered to car­ry her to Paris, and never to leave her. But [Page 215] his passion was to be feared, and his Com­pany was subject to too much suspition. What to do? in so intricate an occurrence! Her good Fortune still took care to rid her out of this.

When the Lady Moliere did formerly proclaim against Silvia, intending to revenge the Death of her Hus­band; The news of [Page 216] it had been spread up every where. The story of her Birth had been read as a cu­rious piece in all the Gazetts, and News-Books. A Duke of Kendale mixt therein did set it out extream­ly; The noise of it had gone beyond the Fron­tiers, and most remote Borders of the King­dom. The Marquis de St. Estienne, one [Page 217] of the Commanders under the Prince of Conde, being still at Brussels, gave it as a novelty, and a piece of curiosity to one of the most charming La­dies in that Countrey, who was a passionate Lover of fine Adven­tures; and this was a means, and as it were, the first step to Silvia's preservation.

The Marqueeze of [Page 218] Sevill (such is that Lady's name) whose Ruëlle ^y hath ever been full of what the Low-Countries have had of most choyce and ac­complished Gallants, was a Lady of a most exact and delicate Shape; ^z Who had been formerly very young, and very hand­som; and in whose physiognomy some­thing of Princely [Page 219] might be seen. She had infinitely of that fine wit which took so much in France, be­fore the fashion was of being ¹ less formall and curious in discourse and behaviour both, and you could in no­thing oblige her more, than by imparting to her some witty intri­gue: Princes, Mar­quesses, Earls, and Barons have had the [Page 220] good luck to please her that way: And not so much as a Brother to the ² Secretary of Com­mands to the Prince of Conde hath escaped be­ing intangled by her into some Adventure not unworthy of her great wit.

Your Highness will not think this Cha­racter free from guilt, when you see by the rest of my story that [Page 221] this Lady hath be­stow'd a great deal upon Silvia, and done her much good. But who is able to conceal from a Friend, so rare and so fine a Picture? It would rather be a Crime to hide it, con­sidering chiefly that the Person her self would take it kindly from us; So far she would be from being against it, if she [Page 222] were living still.

I will therefore add, that the Duke of Ken­dale being young and handsome, was her first Heroe, When she had leave to go through Paris, upon her way to Catalonia, whither she was going to meet her Husband. That six or seven years after, when that Duke was Lieutenant Gene­ral of the King's Army [Page 223] in those parts, she was like to have ³ confoun­ded him with pleasant Adventures and Gal­lantries in the very bustle of the War and Arms (though never so cumbersom.) There was not a day that she sent not to him; and she made use for that of incredible subtilties; she would often put on a disguise to go and meet him in his very [Page 224] Tent; So that one time among the rest, she was taken for a Spie, and carried to him by the Souldiers. The Duke, who had been extreamly taken with her in the year 1645, or 46, was not ungrate­ful to those new tokens of so particular an esteem. 'Tis said, that he did return his thanks to her by all the com­plaisance that might [Page 225] be expected from him; And they that desire to find a reason for every thing may assure themselves, that if it were not meerly Hunting and hazzard which brought him into the Child's Cot­tage, in 1652, He must have come thither up­on the desire of the Marqueeze, who might have heard something of the extraordinary [Page 226] Birth of Silvia; and who having compas­sion on her, had with­out question engaged that charitable Lord to do her good. But I stay too long upon this digression; let us come up again to our Sub­ject.

The Marquis de St. Estienne did then, ac­cording as I have said above, entertain that Lady with the Rela­tion [Page 227] of Silvia's Adven­tures; And she being naturally very compas­sionate to gallant infor­tunes, presently took a fancy to relieve Sil­via; Whether this was a continuation of that tender pity which the Marqueeze is thought to have had for her, in 1652, or the effect of a more casual commiseration, which she had of the famous [Page 228] destiny of an unknown Person; Yet Silvia must still acknowledge her self bound to her for it.

To this effect the Marqueeze began ⁴ to make shew, as if she had the curiosity, which otherwise she was not like to have, of being present to the interview of the two Kings on the River of Bidassoa, and to see [Page 229] the Ceremony of the Infanta's marriage with Lewis August. She took her way by Land, from one end of France almost to the other; And that she might have an occasion to come and hear of Sil­via in the County of Venaissin. ⁵ She gave out, that she did in­tend to meet the Court in those parts.

At that very time [Page 230] Fouquet and Birague were stealing, and car­rying away the Nun and Silvia; The Mar­queeze came to Avig­non the very next day after that expedition; which gave her still a greater mind to find out the Person she was in search of; For her Noble heart did mea­sure the esteem that is to be made of people, according to the more [Page 231] or less Adventures which they had gone through.

Yet Silvia's being stoln away, and lost out of the eyes of the World, was a thing that mixt a great deal of melancholy to the satisfaction the Mar­queeze had to find Sil­via thereby the more worthy of her care and affection; And really, it would have vext any [Page 232] body, being come so far of purpose to see an unknown Person, at the end of so long a Journey, to miss her. She was continually amongst those that were most deeply con­cern'd in those affairs, that she might make her own Advantage of what should come to their knowledge. For that same reason she sought to be acquainted [Page 233] with the Marqueeze d' Ampus; Renewed her old friendship with the Duke of Guyse, whom she had former­ly known in the Low-Countries, when he was following his Loves there; and she had great hopes to en­gage him to reveal unto her a secret, which he himself knew nothing of: So that she made him almost mad with [Page 234] the desperate persecu­tion she made him a­bout the flight of Sil­via.

But all that care and trouble was fruitless; The Court removed from thence e're any body could tell which way the stoln Ladies had gone; The Mar­queeze did attend it as far as the Isle of the Conference, and could hear no further of the [Page 235] Subject of her own Journey. The King's Marriage was not like the Conclusion of a Romance, where all the Heroes must have a meeting together; That was rather the cause that she could not think of going to Thoulouse, to seek for Silvia; For she went away e're any thing was known of the re­treat of the Nun, with [Page 236] whom, afterwards, it was thought that Silvia might be.

At last she was upon her return homewards, full of confusion and discontent, telling eve­ry where as she went, to all the people she met with, the lamen­table story of Silvia, and the ill success of her labour in so tedious a Journey; Some­times her Gentleman-Usher ⁶ [Page 237] did perform that Office whilst she took some Rest, when an unexpected, and un­lookt for Adventure accrewing to so many others, gave the Mar­queeze all manner of satisfaction.

The Countess of Englesac not failing to send to Thoulouse, as the Old President had fore-seen; and the Person she sent shew­ing [Page 238] an Order from the Queen, that Silvia should be taken, and shut up, wheresoever she should be found; It would not have been safe for Silvia to ba­lance, or waver any longer betwixt the of­fers that Birague had made, and falling into the disgrace that threatned her. She had accepted of them, and was gone to Bour­deaux, [Page 239] under the con­duct of my Lady Pratt, a Kins-wo­man of Birague, with an intention to stay for him there, whilst the Lady took care of some business she had in that Parliament. Silvia was afterwards to trust her self upon his word into Bi­rague's hands, and so go to Paris, where she resolved to put her [Page 240] self into a Cloyster of her own accord, the ve­ry next day after that of her arrival. What does your Highness think happened then? The Lady Pratt and Silvia went to Lodge at Bourdeaux just at the very same place where the Marqueeze of Se­vil had took her Lodg­ings the day before. Silvia did see her; A certain je ne scay quoy [Page 241] did strike into the minds of both at the first sight; And whe­ther it was an effect of sympathy betwixt her that was the scope of Adventures, and she that did aim at them, or that a more secret spring did move them both; From that mo­ment they begun to look and wonder at one another, and to be de­sirous of knowing [Page 242] more each of the other. Silvia told it the Lady Pratt, who found yet that they had some resemblance.

Both Ladies having those dispositions to a correspondence, at last, resolved upon a visit. The Lady, who did use, as hath been said, to tell, or get her Gen­tleman to relate her story to every one she met, who had the [Page 243] meen of Illustrious Strangers; as Silvia, and her Guide, left them at night her Ser­vant to inform them of what she was.

Judge you, Madam, what was Silvia's won­der and amazement, when she heard her name in that Relation, and when the Gentle­man added, that the Marqueeze was come expresly from Brussels [Page 244] to adopt her, and car­ry her away into Flan­ders; and that she would give half of her Estate to know where Silvia was.

At the first she thought her self dis­covered, and could not imagine what should be the reason of that Ceremony, with which they came coldly to speak to her of her self, without [Page 245] it were for to make sport, and play with her a little, before they did shew the Order they had to stop her. To be short, Silvia not knowing as yet the true Character of the spirit of that Lady, could see nothing in that occurrence that did look natural and in­genuous; She had thereupon the worst night that ever she [Page 246] past in all her life; And for all the hopes that the Lady Pratt would have given her, who made a better Judg­ment of it, she could not keep her self from trembling at the thoughts of the friend of Madam Englesac till it was day.

'Tis true, the excess of her trouble was somewhat alay'd the day after, when the [Page 247] Marqueeze came to render them a second visit, which was as soon as she was dress'd. My Lady Pratt, who cer­tainly hath a very gal­lant wit, begun to dive into the humour ⁸ of so extraordinary a Person; And after many questi­ons she thought fit to return her one story for another, and to let her see that Silvia was the very same person of [Page 248] whom she had so ten­der, and generous a compassion. For my Lady Pratt had a fan­cy, as it might very well be, that the Re­lation of the misfor­tunes of Silvia, which was made to the Mar­queeze by St. Estien­ne, had inspired into that merciful Lady a Motherly love to­wards her.

In effect a greater [Page 249] joy could not be ima­gined in the World than was her joy, when she heard Silvia's name, and that man­ner of finding her, or rather, lighting upon her by so great a chance, endearing her still the more to that Noble Lady; her tran­sport was so great, as that they could not be parted for a long while, and Silvia was like to [Page 250] have left her life for joy in her first embra­ces. Two dayes after Silvia did resolve to make use of that Ad­venture, and not to stay for the Marquis of Birague, who out of the spight that he took at it, lost in time, the remembrance of Sil­via's Charms, and re­new'd his Friendship with the Widdow Moliere; Though [Page 251] some people may blame him for that, yet Silvia her self did not; But rather said, that the Marquis was not the first man, who be­ing much in Love, or else taking himself to be so, after an ill suc­cess with the subject of his desire, had sought for some satisfaction elsewhere.

Silvia did thank the Heaven for a succour so [Page 252] unexpected, and so seasonable, and neces­sary a favour; And left Bourdeaux few dayes after with much more content, and less fear than she had come to it. The Marqueeze did bestow a whole World of Commen­dations and caresses on her by the way as they went, and gave her such tokens of an earn­est, and pressing ten­derness, [Page 253] that at the last, she could not for­bear to look upon her as upon one that was her true Mother. Yet she did not like Silvia should call her so; But told her, that her face would not give consent to a truth which was acknow­ledged by the heart. And really the former of these two had till then, for [Page 254] above five and twenty years, preserv'd it self in such a flower of Youth, as rendred the quality of a Mother inconsistent with so much of Youth and Beauty. Thus Sil­via was oblig'd to keep within the name of Sister, wherewith she was content, and thought her self too much honoured. At last, they came to [Page 255] Paris, and there they staid till after the magnificent Entry of their most Christian Majesties.

In a space of time so considerable, and with such a Sister, spent in Paris, whi­ther in that con­juncture the curiosity of the shew had drawn the eyes of strangers from all the parts of Europe; Your High­ness [Page 256] will easily con­ceive, that there might have happened to Silvia many things worth the mentioning; But whatsoever hap­pened, she was not concern'd in it; All went to the Mar­queeze of Sevil, of whom she had desired that she might be seen but of few people till they should come to Brussels. I must [Page 257] except only, that a Friend of the Duke of Guyse, coming in a disguise to see her, did offer with many pro­testations to make her a Sovereign Princess, if she would; That the next day after, she refused to take at his hand a pair of Pen­dents, of great value, which he would have presented her with; and that she did chuse [Page 258] rather to uphold the unfortunate Love of her banished Englesac, than give way to a man that made her so fine proffers: Besides this, nothing of extraordi­nary did happen unto Silvia in her passage through France. I need not name that Gallant ⁹ of Silvia's. Madam, your High­ness knows very well who I mean, and that [Page 259] he resolved after­wards to be reveng'd of her, by rendering himself to a young La­dy that did not prove so scrupulous as Sil­via.

A moneth after she came within sight of the walls of Brussels; her new Sister carried her in, as if it had been in a kind of triumph: She was there for a­bove a fortnight the [Page 260] subject of an hundred Relations of Adven­tures, every one made by the Marqueeze her self in choice words; all the gallant and com­plying People of the Court ¹⁰ did recieve with respect and faith the Reasons that she was pleased to give, for adopting of Sil­via to her Heir. Some did exaggerate unto her the likeness of [Page 261] their persons, the more to shew the justice of her action: but I can­not well say, whether this did please her as much as the rest.

To be short, Silvia, Madam, was there two years in the midst of the Spanish Court­ship, and Gallantry. But lest I should prove troublesome to your Highness, by too long a reading, and [Page 262] that Silvia may also take a little breath; I leave the Relation of what befel her there, of most remarkable, and of the rest of her Adventures, for the next occasion that she shall have of writing to your Highness. I am

THE ADVENTURES AND MEMOIRES OF Henrietta Sylvia Moliere. PART the II.

THe first Visits that I received at Brussels, were from the Prince of Aremberg and the Duke of Arscot, Princes truly meriting the greatest esteem, whose Noble Qualifications might deservedly shine in the French Court. The Duke de Croüy followed them; the Prince de Ligne, the good man Don Antonio of Corduba, and a thousand more imitated them: And in fine, the Governour himself, who in spite of his majestick Gravi­ty, came off the most dangerously wounded of them all.

I cannot pass over in silence one particular passage which the excess of his Passion prompted him to.

As he tenderly affected me, and was per­swaded that his Age wanted the assistance of his Liberality to conquer my Heart, he took up a resolution to assault me by those means, and began to personate the accomplish'd Gal­lant. I was much pleased with the sight of a little Chariot of his, which seem'd to me a very commodious and new Invention. Next day he bestowed a visit on me; and as I was discoursing to him concerning it, he said, Will you be pleas'd to play with me for one of them against any other thing? To which I replied, I will; but what shall I stake in play against your Excellency that can amount to that value? He said, all that he desir'd, was onely a little of my Favour: and I (who ever had an inexhaustible stock for all persons of Integrity, drolling with my accustomed gay­ety) assoon took him at his word, and play'd for the Chariot. He lost it; nay, farther, I won the Horses, Charioteer, the Lacqueys, their Board-wages, even to the littering the Stable for three years. The next morning he made me play again, to the end that I might lose my Stakes; and indeed I did so. That very Evening he demanded payment by a Note writ in Spanish, which was indifferent­ly well penn'd, but when he found that the word Esteem in my French did not signifie the same thing as he intended in his Spanish, he re-engaged me to play , that he might be re­veng'd [Page 3] of me; and recover'd his Chariot, Horses, Charioteer, Lacqueys, and the Litter of the Horses; and I never set eye on him after­ward.

But yet this did not prevent my being vi­sited by some other persons of that Nation, who had as great love for me; and among all those, the ancient Gentleman Don Francisco de Gonsales of Meneza, a person of Quality and Courage, twice a Widower, and now to be married the third time, was he that resolved upon the conquest of me with the greatest ob­stinacy, and in the end accomplish'd his de­signe. He sprung from the Illustrious Family of Meneza, of whom the Histories of Spain and Portugal speak so advantageously. The desire he had to serve his Prince in the Low Countries had transplanted him thither, toge­ther with his Estate: 'tis true, 'twas alledg'd besides, that the love he bore to a former Wife, which he married for pure Affection, did contribute thereunto as much as any thing else.

I look'd upon my self, on my own part, destitute of Parents, at least any to my know­ledge. I had receiv'd no intelligence of the Earl of Anglesac for three years elapsed, though I sent several Letters to him that used to write to me on his behalf, whilst I was cloi­stered in the Covent at Avignon. On the other hand, the Marchioness of Sevil, although my [Page 4] intermarriage with a second Lover seem'd in her opinion to infringe the Laws of Heroick Adventures, did notwithstanding so far re­cede from her severity, as to advise me not to lose the Aged Spaniard. What shall I say? His annual Revenue of 50000 Livres, and his Jewels, opened my eyes, and contributed to this perswasion, that Englesac had quite blotted me out of his Remembrance. I lent an ear to his Proposition of Marriage; all was concluded, and the Ceremony compleated in less than ten days. The Good Man pre­sently afterward furnished me with the Train of a Princess; he provided French-men for the most part of my Domestiques; and in the end omitted nothing to render me happy, at least as to outward appearance.

But, Madam, could so great a Fortune ar­rive without an allay of Trouble? without doubt it could not; that would have been di­rectly contrary to the end which, it seems, I was born to. In the midst of so great felicity, which created Jealousie in some, and Satis­faction in others, I met with one Misfortune that poison'd all that followed for a long time after.

Englesac, whom I believed faithless, or ra­ther indeed in his Grave, came to Brussels three or four days after I was Married. This poor Gentleman (whose love continued still as vigorous and fervent as ever, notwithstan­ding [Page 5] that by the Artifices of his Mother, it so fell out that he had not heard a syllable from me for the space of three years) had been at all the Princes Courts in quest of me. He from Savoy went into Switzerland, had penetrated into the heart of Germany, and con­tinued some Moneths at the Emperor's Court; he return'd by — he saw your Ladiship, Madam, and receiv'd from all the Princes of your most Illustrious House a thousand Marks and Ensignes of Goodness. In conclusion, being pregnant and full fraighted with hopes, which he had from time to time of obtaining his Pardon, he reapproached Paris by the Low Countries, that he might be nearer his friends, who undertook his affairs at Court. What was the first Object that was presented to his view assoon as he lighted off his Horse? His Mistriss remarried; O God! O what a spectacle was this for him! Being struck as it were with a Thunder-bolt at this sight, after he had recounted to himself the particulars of this his Disgrace, he would for grief have thrown himself upon the point of his Sword; and had effected it too, but that his Vallet de Cham­bre was too nimble, and prevented it. This faithful and affectionate Domestique withheld him, and diverted the impetuous torrent of his first Commotions: And next day being informed that the Marquiss of Meneza was yet destitute of some French Officers, he firmly [Page 6] recomposed his Spirit by the hope that he gave him of putting him very suddenly into a condition to reproach me with Inconstancy. In fine, he put it into his head to embrace this opportunity, whereby he might come to be near me. The Amorous Earl, who gave ear to nothing but Revenge, disguis'd himself sufficiently to make him fit for such an em­ployment in a place where he was Incognito; and the old man Meneza, who desired to have all his Servants gentile, found him immediate­ly to be for his turn, and entertained him. I was never struck with greater astonishment than when, looking upon this new Steward of the Houshold, our Servant, I found him to be the unfortunate Anglesac.

Alas, Madam! I still tremble at the very thought of it. That secret power that en­chains the Hearts, and always fixes them on the object they love, maugre all the crafty Contrivances which Fortune makes use of to cause a separation between them, forced me to change colour twenty times in a minute; and treated me with so much Barbarism, that being unable any longer to resist its violence, I was fallen into a swoon insensibly in the Arms of the aged Gonzales. It was then ve­ry happy for me that I was married, and that this accident might be imputed to something else which prevented his Jealousie, feeding his fancy with another imagination to his advan­tage; [Page 7] for assuredly that had produced the most mischievous effects imaginable. I came to my self again, but resolved to stay no lon­ger in sight of this Imprudent, who was almost in as bad a condition as my self; and intrea­ting the Marquiss to cause me to be put to bed, I lay there all that day distracted with the greatest Inquietudes that could possibly afflict a person of my spirit and temper.

I had then, and indeed always, a sense of Virtue, whatever the Obloquie of a corrupt Age and the malice of my Enemies dare tat­tle to the contrary. So that this unexpected Rencounter with a man I had formerly lo­ved, and that I could not yet hate, did cruelly divide my Resolutions, and rend my Soul in pieces. I would not have had him arriv'd at Brussels, and yet I was joyful to finde him there: sometimes I was offended with him because he did thus expose me to apparent Dangers; then again, that he should debase himself so much, as to submit to so mean an Employment. Methought there were a thou­sand other ways, both to see and converse with me; besides, in this very action I de­sign'd to search out the undoubted proof of the strength of his Love, and did admire at those Enterprizes which that Passion is capa­ble [...]o make us attempt.

I continued▪ with such thoughts as these, till diverted by the Marchioness of Sevil, who [Page 8] understanding my Indisposition, was come to see me; and this was the reason that I thought no more of them till night: Then I desired the Marquiss Meneza to leave me alone, un­der pretence of taking Physick, but it was in effect to impart all to a Confident of mine, a French Female-servant that I had retain'd about two years in my service, and to whom I used to unbosome my self of all my Secrets. I asked her advice, and she was not less em­broil'd than I; yet we took up this resolution, that I should speak with the Earl assoon as possibly I could, for fear if I should treat him ill, he should make discovery, by some o­ver-bearing Griefs, of that which 'twould be of greater importance to conceal from the old Marquiss: for his Spanish humour was greatly to be fear'd, if he had had the least suspition of the truth of the matter. Merinvil (that was the name of this Maid) took up­on her this Commission; and on the morrow, pretending some Orders that she had from me to give to the new Steward, told him, That I knew him again very well, and upbraided him with the Peril which he had brought me into; and withal added, That he should take great care to do nothing that might give the least ombrage to Meneza, and that I would take my own time to afford him a private Interview as soon as was possible.

If ever an Inamorato passed from an exces­sive [Page 9] Melancholy to extream Joy, after all was thought to be lost, 'twas this poor Earl, who gave himself the liberty to interpret the Promise I had made him as extensively and advantageously as he pleas'd; and he appear'd more brisk by half than before, during those two days which were requisite to finde out a way to discourse him in private. But his Mind and Countenance soon altered, when after a moments entertainment he understood that it was to oblige him to leave the Low Countries, and to require his departure as the last demonstration of his Affection for me. The Marquiss de Meneza, by good fortune, was at that time engaged at play with the Mar­quiss of Castel Rodrigo; for otherwise I know not what we should have done without being surprized: This aged Husband of mine, not being able to breath one moment out of my sight; and the Earl having been in a Swoon by my Bed-side an hour and better after that I had acquainted him with my intention: Adde farther, Madam, adde to your Command (said he, a little before he fell into that weak­ness) that I shall go and carry my Head to France; and to pardon you the remorse of an In­fidelity, that I durst not be so bold so much as to suspect in so spacious and generous a Soul as your own, I must stifle the Remembrance thereof with my own Blood.

These words pierced to the very Heart of [Page 10] me; but I was then much more troubled, when I saw him grow weaker and weaker. Merinvil went out of my Chamber to prohi­bit the entrance of all persons whatsoever, pretending that I was at rest: which fell out very successfully; and I my self, when I saw this too amorous Man somewhat come to himself again, put him with all speed into a Closet, the Door whereof was at my Beds-head, till we had found whether we could let him out of my Appartment without dan­ger.

And it was time: for I had no sooner shut the Door, but that the Marchioness of Sevil came, and would have entred the Chamber in spite of Merinvil, saying, That I must not sleep thus in the Day-time, and that she had something of great weight to communicate unto me, the relation whereof would conduce more to my health than that unseasonable Repose I then took. It was to acquaint me with a new Adventure with which she had perplexed a French Gentleman called the Chevalier de la Frette, to whom she wrote daily under the name of the Invisible Lady, and he also re­turned her an Answer without any knowledge of her Person.

I hearkned to her with incredible distra­ction and impatience; and was somewhat the more out of humour, because a little Lap-dog of Bologna, which I, not thinking of, had [Page 11] shut up in the Closet with the Earl, did bark at him till he was ready to die, and afforded me strange murthering apprehensions: not but that the Lady probably would have been rather ravish'd than scandaliz'd to see me so faithful a Lover, and have envied my Fortune, than have inveigh'd against it. But I had al­ways reason to dread the usual Indiscretion that accompanies Heroick Mindes, having made it my observation in the perusing of Books, that they would always relate the History of their Lives and Fortune to the first unknown persons they met with, without the least precaution; and I did apprehend, that among those persons from whom she could not forbear the relation of mine, there might be found some one or other that had been ve­ry well acquainted with me.

But in conclusion I avoided the trouble, cal­ling for my Morning-gown, and led this dan­gerous Marchioness into another Closet upon a specious pretence, to give Merinvil an op­portunity to let Englesac out of the Closet; which she did accordingly.

But in vain did we take all this trouble up­pon us, and to no purpose did we take our measures to hinder the Marquiss his discovery of any thing during the Moneths time that the Steward did resolve with great obstinacy to dwell with us. The Sieur de— who had retir'd to Brussels since the disgrace of Mon­sieur [Page 12] Fouquet Superintendent of the Exche­quer, who came to dine (the greater our misfortune) at the Marquiss his Table, with several other Frenchmen: and as de — was a person of great Merit, and excellent Com­pany, who knew all persons of Quality what­soever in France, and besides had been par­ticularly intimate with Englesac, in a Journey they took together from Bourdeaux to Paris; he no sooner saw him come into the Hall, to order the Service at Dinner, but, taking him for one of the Guests, he cried out aloud, Ah Monsieur le Comte d'Englesac, you are then in this Country, are you? Ah! what good fortune is conferred upon me by one of my best friends? and with these words he ran to embrace him.

I was not then there, and 'twas well it so hapned; for it had been far worse if I had taken notice of the Earl in that equipage. He gently disengaged himself from the Arms of de— yet with a blush, and pretending he be­liev'd that he put this trick of Gallantry up­on him onely to divert himself: He minded the covering of the Table, as if he had been nothing less than the person that de— took him for. De— himself could not sufficient­ly admire at this mystery, or at the extraor­dinary resemblance of this Steward and the Earl of Englesac; for this action began to make him dubious. The whole Conversation [Page 13] at the Table was onely upon this during Din­ner-time, insomuch that several Questions were propos'd to the Steward: I my self, who had had time to be pre-acquainted with this accident, and to be composed before I came to seat my self at Table, did like the rest; so that all seem'd well in appearance, and we did believe that nothing more vexatious would befal us.

But it was no easie matter to put a trick up­on a Spaniard, who had too often heard the story of my Life repeated, and been pre-pos­sess'd with the Earl of Englesac's love to me. Meneza politickly disguis'd his Sentiments till all people were withdrawn; and when he saw himself single, reproached and menaced me a thousand times; told me I was unworthy the honour of Alliance with one of his Birth and Quality, and a hundred other things more piquant, which gave me to understand, that he intended not to stop there. I did not onely finde my self in a fearful condition as to my own particular, but also for this unhappy Gen­tleman, who for fear of discovering all, would now absent himself less than ever, and of whom I knew very well they would be cruelly reveng'd, if they could be certain that he was Englesac.

He denied it constantly with extraordinary obstinacy; he profer'd the Justification of it by his Parentage, and did so, and pressed even [Page 14] the Marquiss that he would satisfie himself: He added, tha it was the Artifice of— to banish him his service: in fine, he made such ado about it, that one might well believe 'twas truth that he said; so industrious is this fond Love to preserve the Reputation of the party beloved.

But however, 'twas impossible that my Re­putation should ever recover of that mortal blow receiv'd upon this occasion: and though the Earl a few days after left Brussels with all speed, without acknowledging any thing; the bad usage that I received daily from my Husband from that time, made me believe that it was not without some ground. The Railleries in private of — who took a pique against Englesac because he did not confide in him, did contribute to farther perswasions; and the curiosity of some, who came into the world onely to disturb it, and who discovered the Earl's Lodging when he arrived, did spoil all at last.

From this Source, Madam, it is, that so ma­ny cruel Impostures flowed, whereby they design'd ever since to obscure the clearness of my Innocence, and the purity of my Actions. It was not to be imagined, that I should not have a share in the designe of an incensed Lover, who had run the risque of all to gra­tifie his Jealousie and Despite. Upon this consideration, the world hath taken occasion [Page 15] to misjudge of what so grand a Misfortune did oblige me to undergo: to avoid what might ensue thereupon, they would also draw these consequences as to what is pass'd; and say, that 'twas not without reason that the Countess of Englesac had so persecuted me. To conclude, my Name was become the exe­cration of good people, and the Fable of all the Courts in Europe, even to the publishing of it in Print, and composing Romances of my Life, which contain'd not one word of truth. But let us wave the Apology, and re­turn to the Rehearsal.

Englesac then made so great a noise, that Meneza was almost over-perswaded, or at least feign'd to be so, for his Honours sake; but he entertain'd him no longer in his Service, and commanded him not onely to quit his House, but to depart the City: which he did rather in respect to me, than that Jealous-pated Don; and after that went into Holland, as I have already inform'd you. I received no­thing but evil Treatments from my Husband, and liv'd under that Tyranny till the moneth of January in the year 1664, at which time being ascertain'd of his ill will toward me, and that he would carry me by force to one of his Houses, and cloyster me up, I resolved not to wait till that violence should be offered. The Frost had made the way very passable; I took all my Jewels, which were worth al­most [Page 16] a hundred thousand Crowns, and went out of Brussels to meet with Merinvil about five Leagues off, being both habited in Mens Apparel: besides, the night approaching, which was clear enough, we rode Post, and arriv'd at Nancy through Luxemburg.

Assoon as I was departed, there were se­veral rumours of my flight; and they were a long time in quest of me, where I was not to be found, because our Disguise, together with the assistance of the Night, did hinder them from discovering the way that we tra­velled: Nay, they were also of opinion that this Part was not acted without the Contri­butory assistance of Englesac; and they went as far as the Hague to upbraid him with op­probrious Speeches and Menaces, although he had been above eight moneths in a lan­guishing condition by a Quartan Ague, and not in a capacity to dream of such an Enter­prize; and that as much time was almost e­lapsed since the poor Gentleman had heard any news of me. But I will acquaint you with the effect which that produced, in its pro­per place.

When we were arriv'd at Lorrain, I did not think it convenient to shew my self too publickly, because I was not unknown to his Highness. Besides, we, at least Merinvil, could not so well personate those persons we repre­sented, but that such a Prince as he, who did [Page 17] make it his business, might easily dive into some of our secrets. I was content to conti­nue for some time Incognita, and at Board at Cavigny's, a man of I know not what humour, who for our Money entertain'd us for what we seem'd to be; and we play'd sometimes with a handsome Girl that he had, who, if I mi­stake not, was taught to love a man, by my good Complexion.

After all this, and when we were perswa­ded that the heat of Meneza's diligent search was over, we resolv'd to enter France by Champagne. I went under the Name of a Young German who came to see the Magni­ficence of this Kingdom; and Merinvil under the name of a French-man, whom I had en­tertained in my Service. Nothing was more facile, than for us thus to blinde the whole World: I was Mistriss of the High-Dutch from my very youth, and did infinitely affect a kinde of broken French when I could not avoid speaking it. No one questioned but that I was the young Prince de Salmes, whose Name I at last assum'd, knowing [...] there was one of that name which passed all over Europe; and being arriv'd at Court, I was not fearful to salute their Majesties in that Quality, as well as all the Ladies, and the major part of the Lords also.

In a short time I had gain'd my self I know not what strange Reputation of a very gal­lant [Page 18] German, and a dangerous Gentleman a­mong the fair Sex. It would be too labori­ous a work to enlarge my self hereupon, be­cause the report spread abroad concerning my Talents and Abilities, did expose me to great and weighty business, and I do also in­tend to divert your Highness therewith; but I must first of all give you an account of some other particulars, which follow successively in the Series of my Story.

The first Rencounter worthy our cogni­zance, which we made one day at Champagne very early in the morning, was an Adventure at least as extraordinary as any that ever be­fel me. We had scarce walked two Leagues at the going out of Troye, coasting about the Holy Sepulchre, a stately Fabrick belonging to Vilacert, but we discovered afar off a Cava­lier upon an Ascent: he seem'd at first to manage his Horse; and in a minutes time af­ter we perceiv'd that he had turn'd short to make towards us with full speed. Have a care, Madam, said Merinvil presently, 'tis a Robber and an argument of it is this, that he posts it cross the Fields, that he may the soo­ner overtake us. I had reason to be fearful of my Jewels; and I aver, that though I seem'd to bear it out pretty courageously, and thought that one man durst not attaque two, as we seem'd to be, yet I was in a great deal of trouble. My Consternation was redoubled [Page 19] when Merinvil shew'd me the way which we must gallop to reach the House of Vilacert. I perceiv'd the Gentleman did still pursue us. The poor Girl was ready to drop down dead, and thought I was robb'd in earnest, especial­ly, when to adde to our unhappiness, a little River which opposed our passage, gave him, that we fear'd, time to overtake us.

And who do you think, Madam, in the interim, was this redoubted Knight? A Wo­man in Man's apparel, like our selves; but in a greater confusion than we, begging our ex­cuse and pardon when she did approach us; and the Horse threw her out of the Saddle assoon as he stopped behinde ours. When she seem'd to us to manage her Horse, she had then much ado to rule him; and when he took his course cross the Fields, 'twas because this wonderful Brute had discovered our Hor­ses; and being accustomed to travel always in Company, champed on the Bitt, and made haste to joyn with them, and not break so good a custome.

Merinvil and I looked upon one another; and after that an obliging charity had succeed­ed all our fears, we did relate smilingly to one another some follies upon the account of this adventure which ended so comically. In fine, we came off pleasantly enough, but that Merinvil, out of Inadvertency, call'd me Ma­dam; and that drew upon me one thing far [Page 20] more vexatious. It had been better for us that this new Adventuress had been what we really thought her to be.

'Twas Jealousie, as we soon after under­stood, that had disguis'd this Woman, and conducted her with some designe on the Borders of the Land of the Holy Sepulchre. In all probability those that she waited for did not live very remote. Assoon as she un­derstood my Sex, her distracted Fancy made her forget the hurt she had by her fall, and was employ'd without doubt to represent me as her Rival that disturbed her Repose and Fortune; and changing her behaviour, all of a sudden, she said with a Countenance paler and paler; I was well assured before, that my false-hearted Lover had deserted me for a­nother. And it appears that she had rather the Face of a Man than a Woman. I did apprehend I could not discover the mystery soon enough; but the Hazard has out-done all my Cares; and it is not probable that he proffers me so fair an opportunity without designe.

Come, said she, raising up her self in a fu­ry, and drawing her Sword aukwardly, you must have my Life with Monsieur such a one, or else I must enjoy both. She named this Mon­sieur such a one distinctly enough by his Name; but I was so attentive to the remai­ner of the Story, that I could not remember it.

Whether I was surprized or no, Madam, I leave your Highness to judge: but however, I stood more in admiration, than fear of the Adventure; and ruminating on it in my mind with a kinde of Raillery, I desir'd even then the society of the Marchioness of Sevil to be a Witness of this last Miracle; for in the end I found my self innocent, and did not question but I should speedily perswade this enraged Lady, that she did mistake me for another, continuing to speak my High-Dutch, and bad French; but for one reason▪ that I will tell you, it was that which made her be­lieve she was not deceived in the person. In fine, I was compell'd to stand upon my de­fence to save my Life, which she had no in­tention to spare; and this was the occasion of that news that in those days run through­out the Court, that two Ladies fought a Duel in mourning for their Lover. The thing was true, and the world was cheated onely in Circumstance. But we must put a period to the recital of the Combat.

Well then, we design'd to hurt one another; Merinvil, instead of helping me to disarm her, which was the easiest thing in the world to do, thought it best to cry out, though 'twas to ill purpose: These Cries drew a Compa­ny of People together. La Roche, Gentle­man of the Horse to Monsieur de Vilacert, was on the other side of the Water mounted, [Page 22] who posted thither; seeing that, he call'd (though to no purpose) to Merinvil to sepa­rate us, and she had not the courage to draw near; he gallop'd to finde the Key of the Haven of the River: Some Gentlemen over­took him and followed him. It was requi­site that I should make a quick dispatch, to avoid the mischievous discovery that might otherwise happen: This Necessity re-dou­bled my Courage; and passing at my Adver­sary who was retreating, I gave her an Esto­cade in the middle of the Body, which made her fall to the Earth; but yet I have since understood she did not die of the Wound. After this I remounted, and that soon e­nough to be a sufficient distance off before these Gentlemen could pass the River.

All that I could learn of the Subject of this Rencounter, but a long time after, and by accident, was, that this Gentlewoman was the Daughter of a very honest man, who had sometime been Governour of the Basseé, her Mother carrying her and one of her Si­sters to Court, where their Beauty had at­tracted the greatest Gallants there. This per­son was not ingrateful to a most accomplisht Cavalier for his Services; she was informed that he made his Amours to a Woman of Holland lately arrived in France, and that he liv'd with her in some of his Rural Retire­ments, and kept her in Man's Apparel. The [Page 23] violence of her Jealousie did counsel her to surprize them in the same disguise; the Wife of an Officer of Troye was assistant, and furnish'd her with her Equipage. I have told you the rest; and my High-Dutch, which she understood not, did perswade her the more that I was the Holland-Rivaless.

In pursuance of that, we came about ten or twelve Leagues off of Paris, where Merin­vil had a God-father nam'd St. Canal, and did endeavour to engage him to follow us in the quality of my Governour. 'Twas an old Souldier, ill furnish'd with the Goods of Fortune, and sufficiently unfurnish'd in his person. Merinvil had the length of his Foot so exactly, that he condescended to all we desir'd; and eight days afterward we brought him to Paris; There, as he was wise enough, he provided Lodgings for us forth­with at a Citizen's house where he was known, that we might as well have leasure to take better Measures which we were to keep for the future, as to be the less expos'd to meeting with troublesome people, which would be almost impossible to avoid in Great Houses.

But 'tis in vain to imagine that Prudence can bear up against Destiny: the first per­son that I met with, as I was going to Sup­per, was the Lady-Abbess, Sister to the Coun­tess of Englesac, with whom I had so fre­quently [Page 24] heretofore made sport about the Letters of the Marquiss de Birague. A very im­portunate Affair which she was to sollicite at Court, had for some time withdrawn her from her Cloister; and her good Character or Re­pute made her lodge at the same (being a ve­ry civil) house, which we had taken up part of, upon other Considerations. Yet she did not know me, although the antient Sym­pathy of her good will towards me, under this my German habit, continued me as great as ever; and perhaps it had been no great difficulty for me to permit her to return without her divining my Disguise, if I had not been so foolish as to divert my self with her Imbecility and the Esteem she had for me. For, Madam, I was belov'd, and that with an excessive Passion; and should I give you a relation of all the passages be­tween us for some time, it would not be any ways offensive to you. But, why should I not acquaint you with them? possibly your Highness will be pleased with the diversion, and that will do no great injury to the Lady-Abbess.

At first sight indeed I was much astonished to see her, and was put to the blush; but the Lady, who was well accomplish'd, did me the favour to fancy somewhat more pleasant in that change of colour than the cause there­of; and looking with a brisk Eye, and a [Page 25] sufficiently handsome Mouth, she said, to en­courage me a little, Ah! the Comely Gentle­man! Come Sir, come, I look upon Madam de Madane to be the most happy Woman in the World, who entertains such a Guest as your self. Then she came and took me by the Hand to seat me at the Table, and from thence for­ward did daily embolden me as much as was possible. On my part, I had the curiosity to understand to what excess of Esteem and A­mity my good Complexion could lead a person of her profession, and the day after I made advantage of her kindnesses. I did pay her several Visits, and she proffer'd to teach me the French Tongue exactly; to which purpose she did every morning oblige me to answer a little Love-letter which she sent me from her own Chamber to mine. There was nothing more courtly than those Notes; yet mine, though clothed in a meaner Garb, in her opinion were pregnant with Sense. In fine, Madam, we became so charm'd with each other's Conversation, that I know not what obliged her one Night to cry out that I read the Comedy of des Facheux with her. Ah, dear Sir! said the Lady-Abbess, the most vexatious of all vexations, is a third person which disturbs two good Friends, when they would never desire to be more than two in Com­pany. And another time, discoursing of o­ther matters, she told me, That multiplicity [Page 26] of Laws was never made for persons of Wit and Spirit; that there was need but of one Secret to violate them undetected; and that then there was no more punishment for us, but that all the difficulty lay in putting this Secret in practise.

As to the rest, I do not relate these particu­lars, but as a Specimen of her shrewdness, without pretending to draw from thence any dangerous Consequences: for I my self, be­ing willing to make this slight inference, needed onely to press her a little to finde out several other of her Weaknesses; I found the quite contrary, that there was nothing more solidly vertuous. She did indeed well to indulge her self that becoming Liberty of talking and loving whatever she fancied; which is, as it were, permitted to Ladies when they are over-witty: but she was a mortal Enemy to all dangerous Consequences; and for pretending one time that I would serve my self in spite of her, of these occasions which she in my apprehension offered me designedly, I had almost lost all her esteem. I was forced, like a Fool, to betake my self to Laughter, and make her sensible I was but a Woman, to obtain a Pardon for that Inso­lence.

To say that she wish'd me no great hurt hitherto, I being the cause that so long a re­sistance, and so great vertue, had edified but [Page 27] one Woman, that thing I durst not put for­ward: for she appeared too much out of order after I had told her my name; but at last she recall'd her gentile humour, to answer my Raillery with other more witty repar­ties. We renewed our antient Friendship; I gave her a particular of what had befallen me since I was depriv'd of the honour of seeing her; she bewail'd my condition, pro­mised me concealment of all that was to be kept silent; and as she was ever Generous, profer'd me once more a Retirement in her Abby, till I had reconciled my self to my Husband; but I durst not recommit my self a second time to the Influences of the Air of her Countrey, which did so disagree with me in my younger years; besides, I always dreaded every thing that might cause my re-approach near the Countess of Engle­sac.

Thus you have the whole History of what hapned to me in this Citizen's house, where I yet for some time associated my self with her, without any new accident upon my ac­count. I said the Relation should not be troublesome, nor do I believe that it hath of­fended your Highness.

In conclusion, the Abbess returned, and I finding my self well pleased with my manly habit, which deceived the very Hearts of Ladies, and in which I had also affronted [Page 28] some of my Husband's Emissaries, I desired no other Asylum; I thought my self more secure in the very heart of Paris, than if I should take upon me to seek for refuge else­where in an Equipage proper to my Sex; and from that time forward I resolved to pass for the Prince de Salmes.

St. Canal's Hair stood an end, Good man! when I made this Resolution known to him, and that he understood I had already com­municated this Impostor to my Hostess and her Daughter upon a mistaken presumption. You will destroy us all, said he, being altogether dismay'd, and do not imagine that this will prove a new Labyrinth of Perplexities and Ad­ventures, from which you will never be able to disintrigue your self; that which hath proceed­ed from the Mouths of two, three, or six particu­lar persons, will not be approved of by those in the wide World that you must converse with. And besides, what will become of you if the true Prince should arrive when you are here also? He opposed my designe with a thousand o­ther reasons, which his fears suggested to him, as well as my own Interest; but it was to no purpose for him to be disturbed at it, and to adde Threats withal, that he would return and leave me if I proceeded any far­ther. I was ravished with the hopes of be­ing more closely concealed, whatever he could say; and that which did farther pre­vail [Page 29] with me, was, that I should by this mean [...] divert my self very pleasantly.

I appeased him, and made him take up a resolution to run the risque with me. He hired me a House, which I furnished; he chose me Lacqueys, and that carried somewhat of Splendor with it. I visited, and was visited: I behaved my self in all places like a person of great Fortune, in imitation of an infi­nite number of young inconsiderate Cour­tiers, who are often nothing less than what they pretend to. I went also to the Court, and was well received: I learn'd at the Mar­quiss of Sevil's enough of the House I would be of, to prevent all Mockeries whatever.

But I soon smarted for the delight I had taken in all these kinde of Confidences, by the troubles which St. Canal had predicted. The first whereof was onely perplexing, be­cause it was too Gallant, and deserves to be related to you with all its circumstances, since it was Love of my own creation occasioned it, and that I have promised your Highness to expatiate upon that Subject.

The King, resolving to Regale the Queens and Ladies at Court, with the pleasure of some Festivals worthy his Magnificence and Gallantry, invited them to his Enchanted Palace at Versailles. He commanded the Spi­ritual Duke of Saint Agnan, who officiated then as Chief Gentleman of his Chamber, [Page 30] to contrive the Plot of a Ball, or rather of all those Festivals together: And this Lord had taken for his Subject the Palace of Al­cinous, which gave occasion to its Name, as the Pleasures of the Enchanted Island. I was invited as a Forrain Prince, and besides as a young person, and a Gallant.

The Pastime began with the Course at the Ring, and I would willingly give a cursary description thereof. They adorn'd a Round with four grand Green Porches, and a thou­sand other Rarities, to which four spacious Alleys were adjoyning between very lofty Palisadoes; never any thing seem'd to the Eye more Proud and Magnificent. After all the Courtiers were seated, the King, repre­senting Roger in Ariosto, appeared about six of the clock in the Evening, followed by the Gentlemen that were to run at the Ring. His Armor was after the Grecian manner; his Cuirass made of thin Plates of Silver, imbos­sed with an Embroidery of Gold and Dia­monds; his Casque cover'd all over with Feathers of a flame-colour; and thus he mounted one of the stateliest Steeds that ever Eye beheld, whose Harness also did shine with Gold and pretious Stones. Monsieur the Duke, who personated Rowland, came af­terward alone. After that, there was seen an Apollo in a Chariot not to be described, ha­ving the four Ages at his Feet. Time, as it [Page 31] is usually portraicted, was the Chariot [...] and four Horses that were of a pale Gold-co­lour, of admirable shape, covered besides with large Foot-clothes powdered with gol­den Suns, and harnassed all over the Fore­head, drew this Machine. A long Train fol­low'd him; then came the Gentlemens Pages with Lances and Devises: after them a com­pany of Shepherds charged with several pieces of the Barriers, which were to be set up for the Course. They run at the sport till night approached.

The Night being come, a prodigious num­ber of Flambeaux of white Wax, with above 4000 small Candles enlightned the place: There was heard a most pleasant Concert; and whilst the four Seasons of the Year were charging the delicious Messes that were to be served up at their Majesties Table, the whole Retinue of the Sun danced within the Round an excellent Ball. Then came the Spring, and it was poor Madam du Pare that represented it; she mounted, with a Horse­man's dexterity and grace, a Spanish Gennet. The Summer on an Elephant. Autumn on a Camel: And Winter on a Bear came after, with a Train of an infinite number of per­sons, who carried on their Heads large Basons for the Collation. The first, covered with Flowers, and made interwoven like Baskets, were carried by Gardiners; the others by [Page 32] [...]ers; those of Autumn by Vintagers; and the last were pieces of Ice covered with others, born by Old Men all frozen, to cool the Liquors. Pan and Diana, at the noise of another Concert of Flutes and small Bag­pipes, besides, brought all sorts of exquisite Viands, some being the fruits of her own Houswifery, and the other of her Hunting; and all that upon so surprizing a Machine in the form of a Rock, shadowed with variety of Trees, that one would believe it to be an absolute Enchantment: for you might see it carried up into the Air, without understan­ding the art which caused its motion. The Controlers General, who went under the Names of Abundance, Joy, Property, and Good Chear, did as suddenly cover the Table of a new invention with all these things; and all this done by the hands of Pleasure, Sport, Laughter, and Delight, which were so many disguised Officers. Was not this truely Royal, Madam? and is not your Highness de­lighted with the rehearsal thereof? But this is not all; for I must tell you how these no­ble Spectacles did afford me matter of per­plexity.

That which I have given you a descrip­tion of, was but the Divertisement of one day, and they continued the Festival Solem­nities all along more gallant the one than the other, from the Seventh of May to the Thir­teenth [Page 33] day: judge you, Madam, what this must needs be; sometimes Musick of all sorts, new Feasts, Lotteries, other Courses at the Ring, artificial Fire-works; all this was there seen, without forgetting the Great Ballet of the demolishing of Alcinous his Palace, which was performed in the Floating Islands on the little Round; and was to my fancy the cu­riousest thing, and an Enterprize most worthy so Great a Monarch.

The second day, as they were acting the Comedy of the Princes d'Elide, I was seated between two fair Ladies; one very Proper, Morose, and Coy; the other Frollickish, or rather Wanton, which discoursed a thousand foolish things to me, and oblig'd me to tell her some also. I could adde that I would do it, if I were not asham'd of such filthiness; but yet I am engag'd, and these things are too considerable a part of my History to sup­press them; your Highness will accept of them as they ought to be taken, and I will, if I can, write them so likewise.

After I had sufficiently cajol'd, and deman­ded such favours which I thought would ne­ver be granted, that foolish Girl took me by the hand when the Play was over, and whis­pering in my ear, Go, said she, come and lead me back you are too comely to be denied any thing. This happiness, which would have charmed any other, put me into a fit of trem­bling, [Page 34] and I made her a very untoward an­swer, and how could I do otherwise? I did not put by this Pass, but quitted her assoon as she spake, as if I had believed she would have play'd the Droll with me, withal telling her, that though I was an absolute German, I could see when they intended to make me ridiculous, and that I should finde more sin­cere fair ones in other places.

The Lady to revenge her self upon me for this coldness, in a true kinde of Mockery con­sulted the day following to cause the grossest untrue contradictions in the world to be sung of me, which however were not so taken by o­thers; for they made me pass for the most redoubted Gallant of the Court. Next day there was a great Challenge of running at the Ring, which the Duke de St. Agnan won against Monsieur de— and on the which he had composed certain Verses dedicated to the Ladies; hereupon a drolling Wit said, That this Duke had done nothing in being Con­querour of the Great— if he were not mine also, and all this with its Allusions and Mysteries. In short, in few days I was ac­counted so dangerous a Cavalier, and so ex­pert in Courtship, (but in the mean while let us say withal, Madam, that if all those that have the same Repute have not a more just Title to it, 'tis a thousand pities) and they had contracted so good an opinion of me, [Page 35] that besides the bruit which reached the ears of the true Prince's Parents, I had another Task, to answer to a thousand fair Curiosa's, of whom my necessary Ingratitude made so many troublesome Enemies.

But the newest and most terrible Adven­ture was, that the other of these two Ladies, which I told you looked so grave and scorn­ful, had not a Heart less sensible; and after seve­ral tender conversations that we had together at the Queen's, she endeavoured more obsti­nately than any of the rest to discover whe­ther what was reported of my Gallantry were not a false rumour. She gave me to under­stand the esteem she had for me; at first, by proffers of her Service upon all occasions of­fered; then by her amorous Notes, that the most Phlegmatick German of that Nation might have apprehended them; and finally, by word of Mouth by one of her Women, which took away all pretence of pleading Igno­rance.

I must not Romance; I thought my self undone, she was not a Lady to be treated by me as I had done several wealthy Gossips: There was some danger after all this her for­wardness, not to answer directly and readily to her desires; and her She-confident had en­deavour'd as much as lay in her power to make me sensible of it beforehand. Nor besides durst I discover unto her my Sex; [Page 36] there had been no prudence at all in that, my Secret might have been committed to ill-disposed persons; and the very vexation which the Lady her self might have conceiv'd, to see one of great importance to her self made known to me, would possibly have made use of it to do me an injury.

Another circumstance did also greatly a­larm me, which is, that she understood, I know not by what means, that I was not the real Prince de Salmes, and that she did not thereby onely discover the sole reason of her Love. To what resolution was I driven at last? to feign a kinde acceptance of the great Honour she conferr'd upon me, and to be impatient till I came to the fruition there­of, and then to leave the Kingdom with all possible speed, before the expiration of those three days which she allowed me for prepa­ration, though I know not for what reason. I consulted St. Canal, who was more astonished than I assoon as he heard it: He told me I must not waver, but be, and I was, in a readiness next day to execute this resolu­tion, if the unexpected meeting with the Earl of Englesac, who had at length obtain'd his pardon, and was arriv'd at Paris that very night, had not given me occasion to al­ter all my Measures. We must acquaint you with the things that hapned in this Rencoun­ter, as well as the rest of the passages.

I us'd to steer my course every morning to a Gentlewomans house, where they repor­ted that the fair Madam de Luidre attracted me: others were perswaded that it was the most charming Lady Mademoiselle de Fiennes; but that is little material to my present Re­lation.

As I was going thither the very evening that I had received the Message, for fear they should finde me out to tell it me, I met at the very first the young Earl of Englesac, with the Chevalier de Lorrain, the Marquiss de Vil­leroy, the Prince of Monaco, the Gallant Ben­serade which your Highness so much admires, and some other persons of Quality, very much altered in truth from what he was at Brussels; for he did Laugh, Sing, was no lon­ger in Love, or if he were amorous, it seem'd at least that it was not at all of me.

And although he was not oblig'd to kill him­self with Melancholy in my absence any more than hitherto I had done in his, and that perhaps also he thought he might to no pur­pose have tormented himself in continuing faithful to me: I was however infinitely sur­prized to finde him so disengag'd, and this astonishment was the reason that I did not accost the Ladies with my usual good Address. Englesac, who was newly arriv'd, covered all over with Dust, to see this Man that was of so great Reputation, was not less supriz'd [Page 38] when he cast his Eyes upon me, and had like to have spoil'd all in framing ridiculous Imaginations within himself: for he con­fess'd to me since, that he fancied they had disguised me on purpose, as a piece of Court-Gallantry, knowing how much he was ena­moured with me; but what a shew might that have made as to outward appearance, and especially in that place where we were at that time?

But that which perplexed him far more was, that he boasted he was particularly ac­quainted with the young de Salmes in Ger­many, which was certainly true; and having condescended, as I may so say, to come thi­ther this evening upon no other account, but onely to complement him upon the fame of his valour, he intended to make his address to him onely. The Adventure was pleasant; he exposed me, if he believ'd 'twas I, in not pretending to know me for the Prince de Salmes; and I, on my own part, had be­tray'd my self, if my confusion at the sight of him should continue; yet we departed both in good time to our advantage, doing both of us our Devoir. Methinks I still hear that foolish Complement he bestowed on me, em­bracing me as if I had been the Prince; which he intermixed with such and so many Tran­sports, that, to prevent the mischief which was ready to fall upon us, I was constrained [Page 39] to make greater protestations than otherwise I intended, and to give him to understand in one or two words, of what Importance it would prove for him to act well this disguis'd humour.

When we came from thence, he went into my Coach, to re-conduct me to my appart­ment; and your Highness I presume will di­spense with the Relation of all that this tran­sported Lover did say through excessive Joy, who was not so disengaged from my Bonds as I believed him to be. I never in all my life saw a man more pleas'd and Amorous; the Tears, Sighs; the Alasses, the Excla­mations of Joy, the Deviations and Hesi­tances in discourse; and all this to prevent my doubting that there could arrive a greater feli­city to him, than to see me once again: he had continued the prosecution of his Follies till next morning, if I would have permitted him.

But yet this did not root out of my minde the Resolution I had made to quit Paris as­soon as possible, to avoid the misfortunes that threatned me; and I did interrupt him, to make him my Confident herein. What think you of it, said I, and what would you advise me to do? I am very much turmoil'd, said he, and I foresee much trouble in flying, as well as residing here. If you depart, this Mar­chioness knows that you are not the Prince de [Page 40] Salmes; she is stor'd with secret Intrigues, and wants but a will to procure your prejudice from some other hand, not onely before you depart the Kingdom, but where-ever you shall arrive. Also if you stay, I do verily believe that you will be exposed to many great perils. She is taken for a Vir­tuosa, and they, when they have once run a risque, so as to communicate their Secrets to one that may discover them, leave no Stone unturn'd to put them quite out of danger. The least thing you can do, is to discover your Sex to her, to prevent those private Ambushes; and when once disco­vered, one of these two things will happen; either good use will be made of it, or it will be divul­ged. If it become divulged, Meneza will assoon be acquainted with it, and send to have you car­ried away by force, without a possibility of justi­fying your self against the apparent reasons of his Complaints. If the Lady makes good use of it, I shall not be a jot the less depriv'd of the enjoyment of your Society here as frequently as my desires will prompt me to it, and the opportu­nity that proffers it me. The Reasons of De­cency and Conveniency will plague us to Hell. (You may judge by this, Madam, what pre­tension the Earl made.) In fine, this Fond­ling added (whose fresh Joy did obstruct his Affliction for my Perplexities) All this is very cruel indeed; and if I were not afraid of being guilty of Infidelity to you, I should rather go and disengage your Honour, by satisfying the Lady [Page 41] under your name, and in your place, till we should be at leisure to take other, Measures.

This fancie of his created laughter in me, because that in truth 'twas the best expedi­ent; and that he should say, if he were not fearful of his breach of Faith to me; which I think, in effect, had been to do so, if a person more subject to Jealousie than my self had been Judge of it, and would have laid the whole burthen upon his Shoulders. It may be as to the remainder, they will accuse me of too little Nicety; but to speak freely, I ne­ver could admit of certain Jealousies, which in my opinion seem to be too deeply engaged in the Senses: the assurance of an undivided Heart hath hitherto, and shall ever satisfie me. Everyone has his method of Love, and I believe I am more dainty than the daintiest of them all, by loving in this manner. An Infidelity! I replied very nimbly, really, Sir, I pretend not that 'tis possible for you to be guilty of, whilst I am wedded to a Husband: I desire no­thing of you, and you are free to bestow all you have upon whom you please. We press'd this Conversation even to extravagance; and as long as we found an humour or occasion of Raillery. Then at last the conclusion was, that maugre all the Remonstrances and Pro­testations of St. Canal, who out of mere fear was returned home, I should consent to this obliging Cheat to be put on the Marchioness, [Page 42] and without dissimulation, Madam, now that I am grown somewhat wiser than I was, I admire at my temerity in that particular.

The Earl was a comely person about my pitch, and might pass for me in a business with a Lady that had the precaution to ad­mit of no Lights during the exercise of their Pleasures, and which had not so much time at command as she would willingly have to gratifie her Lovers. I informed him with e­very particular of the most minute Circum­stances of all that befel me since I appeared at Court, that he might not commit any ri­diculous mistake. When he returned, he gave me an account of the Transactions between them. (O how confident am I to relate all these things to your Highness!) These mu­tual Instructions of Nocturnal and Diurnal Secrets continued for some time. In fine, the Intrigue lasted till the Ladies Husband, having, I know not by what means, intercepted some of her Letters with the Answers, written in my own hand, grew extreamly Jealous, and put Spies over us. Now, Madam, we come to the unravelling of so many Comedies as I have acted.

After this Jealousie had continued fifteen days, the Marquiss as yet not believing that he had sufficient reason to convince his Wife of unchastity▪ the King had an ambition to bestow a new Regalo on the Ladies, whom [Page 43] he led unvail'd to the Plain of Trevers, cloth'd like Amazons. My Marchioness, that fancied not splendid Pleasures, returned to Paris, and imagining that Monsieur her Husband would not leave the King as he had said, she wrote to me she was alone, and desired my Com­pany to play with her. I went thither trem­bling all the way, not for fear of what befel me upon the account of her Husband; (for I did not foresee that) but lest she should ask me to play at some Game, which I was un­acquainted with; nor was this without rea­son: I had had a shrewd task to undergo, if the Husband had not entred the Chamber just as the Lady was urging me with earnestness to make the best use or our Solitude; and I could bring none but very weak reasons to defend my self. I know not whether the surprize of his arrival did possess me with more plea­sure than fear.

He had hid himself, by the Instruction of one of his Domesticks, in a place where he might hear all; and having been too palpably convinced of our conversation by our enter­tainments, void of all patience, he was com­ing to sacrifice us both to his Honour. The Marchioness, who heard him first, as he came through the Hall, cried out aloud, and run­ning full speed into the Garden, one Door whereof answered to her Appartment, shut it upon her self, and left me solely exposed to [Page 44] the fury of her Husband. In the interim she secured her self in a Nunnery, which was op­posite to another Door of the same Garden. As to my own particular, I thought my last hour was come; for this man being the more enraged by his Wife's escape, came to me with Sword mounted, saying, his Eyes spark­ling with indignation, Ah! Traytor, thou must dye. All that I could do, was to put by his Pass as well as I could, till he changed his re­solution to kill me on the place, for another of suffering a more lingring and cruel death. He disarmed me; and calling his Servants one by one to treat me the more rudely, com­manded them to disrobe me; it was perhaps to flea me alive, for the Cook was there also among them.

Judge you, Madam, what a shame it was for me, when notwithstanding all my resi­stance, my Tears, and Protestations, to make this Jealous-pate sensible that I was never capable of doing him that injury which he imagined I was already guilty of, these butcherly Fellows began to tear off my Clothes, till my Neck appeared bare to them: but in fine, there was no more to be done, and I was also very happy in that they did perceive I was but a Woman.

The Marquiss could never appear in a grea­ter confusion than he was in at that present; and changing suddenly his Choler into pro­found [Page 45] Sorrow, that he should offer to treat me (as he said) so fair a Creature so rough­ly. Ah! said he with a loud Voice, Madam! What was your intention? and why have you compell'd me to be Conscious of so hainous a Crime? He beg'd my Pardon on his Knees, sent back all his Servants, came and closed my Hands with a gentle squeeze, beseeching me to for­give him what he had so lately done; he kissed them a thousand times: and yet I my self, during all these passages, did scarce know where I was, so much terrour and confusion had siezed me. To conclude, Madam, he ad­ded many specious Protestations, to give re­paration for my discontent occasioned by him, if I would but inform him who I was; and told me, that he believed himself a Lord great enough to perform that; and, in a word, he grew so milde, that in any danger of my Life, where I should have thought to have found my self a minute sooner (I must tell your Highness this piece of foolery also) the greatest hazard that I ran that day, was not that of being kill'd onely.

But the best part of the Adventure was, that when the Marquiss was hereby convin­ced of the fidelity of his Wife, he thought himself obliged to go and ask her Pardon al­so, and to laugh with her at this his Extrava­gance. The poor Lady did not know what Interpretation to make of the Story he told [Page 46] her, and thought he had invented it, to shelter his Honour from the noise that he had newly made to no purpose: Yet in short, she knew very well it was not a Female that had char­med her every night. The Oaths where­with the Marquiss endeavoured to perswade the Religious woman that he spake truth, seem'd to her but as so many Snares which he spread to entrap her; but when several of the menial Servants testified the matter in hand, and reported what they had seen with their own Eyes, she look'd like one drop'd out of the Clowds. The Husband for his part knew not what to think of the obstinacy and terrours of his Wife, and they were both of them just at their Wits end.

But now I must bid adieu to my Secret from that very moment. What Promises so­ever the Marquiss had made me to be mute and never discourse it, too many people knew it, so that it could not be longer concealed. The Rumour was spread all over the Court, which gave way to much Raillery, and great Astonishment; especially among those Ladies that thought otherwise of me. Now I was forc'd to take upon me again the Equipage of my own Sex; for I had not Confidence enough to continue any longer in Man's Ap­parel after this. I stood at last in need of all the subtlety imaginable, to invent Romances that might satisfie the Inquisitive, and hinder [Page 47] the knowledge of my true History. I gave it out, that I was the fair Marchioness de Ca­stelanne, which had not long since so Tragi­cal an end; and that I was willing thus to fly the persecution of my Husband's Brethren, who were in quest of me, designing nothing but my Assassination.

But all my Contrivances could not long shrowd me from the last blows that Fortune intended me; for every one recollecting him­self by degrees what search my Husband had caused to be made for his Wife in France the precedent Moneth of January, did immediately thereupon conjecture, that I was rather the Marchioness of Meneza than of Castellanne, which many people could not discern in the Symmetry and Proportion of my Face.

The Count of Englesac's fixing of himself near me, the remembrance of what pass'd be­tween us, when we met with one another at the Royal Palace with the young Ladies, and what they had learn'd of his Love and Duel, all this contributed very much to the Suspi­tion: and in fine, many other Circumstances carried the report of those Accidents which had befallen me, even to the knowledge of the Aged Meneza, who lay languishing through Grief and Distempers at Brussels; and as­soon as he understood it, wrote to the Queen-Mother, to supplicate her Majesty to send me back into Flanders.

The House of the Duke de Guise was then my Sanctuary; and the Earl of Englesac, thinking that I could not be safe enough in any Cloister, did rather chuse to trust me to the Generosity of the Duke, who knew me, and had proffer'd me both Silence and Pro­tection. 'Tis true also that he gave me great cause to commend him for his Treatment; and if he intermixed some Efforts to per­swade me to return him thanks some other way than barely by words, yet he left me wholly at liberty to do it, or not. I was in­finitely surpriz'd when I saw this Prince, ear­lier than usual, enter my Appartment, and say unto me with Tears in his Eyes; 'Tis death to me, Madam, to come here to disturb your Re­pose; but a plenary Power commands me to see you take Coach, and to commit you to the Custo­dy of three Ladies, who are appointed to con­duct you to the Queen-Mother, who will see you You must not flatter your self, Madam, continued he, seeing that I received this News with a kinde of indifferent Indignation, as if I had di­vin'd the principal thing which they conceal'd from me; I believe it is to carry you back to your Husband at Brussels. I wish to God that the Traytors that discovered the place of your Resi­dence had been in the center of the bottomless Abyss or that I my self had been dead before the detection of this Treachery. He Crowned all these melting Expressions with Tears, which this [Page 49] Noble Prince, if I mistake not, could com­mand at pleasure. And I replied, Your High­ness jests with me, and I am better fortified than your self; I merit not the Affliction which you take upon you for a thing which is indifferent to me. I have endeavoured to avoid my Misfor­tune, but could not effect it; my Destiny has more Stratagems than I have Policy. Well, Sir, I added, we must satisfie the Queen, and expect my better Fortune. She is not the most constant thing in the world as to my Concerns; and though she never bestow on me durable-Kindnesses, yet she never permits my Mischances to be long-liv'd.

He lent me his Hand to the Coach, which I saw guarded by twenty Flemish Troopers; and I thought the despicable Earl of Engle­sac was ready to implunge himself into de­spair in the Hall where he was, whence he durst not follow me but with his Eyes: yet whether I had in truth some grandeur of Spi­rit extraordinary, or some secret Precogni­tion or Foreknowledge that this Disgrace would not be of any long continuance; I seem'd to have no farther commotions; I took my leave of all those who were present when I entred the Coach, with a smile; and placing my self with my Merinvil, who proved faithful to me all along, they made me travel the Road to Flanders; but we were not far beyond Peronne, before I spi'd on both [Page 50] sides great probability that I should soon be freed from that trouble which I foreknew, on the one hand, because Englesac, being re­solved either to ruinate himself, or set me again at liberty, having gathered together a great number of young Gentlemen masked, he like a Lion, powring in upon the Troopers that guarded me, compelled them to free me, which they did very happily. This poor Earl, having taken me behinde him, to sepa­rate me from my Enemies with the greater speed, conducted me to a Castle belonging to one of his Gentlemen. On the other, having since that privately sojourned fifteen days in that Castle, I perceived, in the very same Road, looking out of the Window, a Reti­nue, whose Livery I thought I must needs know; and in truth it was that of the Mar­chioness of Sevil, who came Post to Paris to seek after me, and to acquaint me that the Marquiss de Meneza was deceased; this last news of my recovered Freedom having acce­lerated his Death.

The Earl took Horse to meet her; and I cannot express to your Highness the Joy that ravished him, when he understood the occa­sion of so precipitate a Journey: he had scarce the patience to advertise her that I was safe in that Castle, and to conduct her thither, for haste to come and acquaint me with what they had told him. He was wholly transpor­ted, [Page 51] making signes to me by waving his Hat, running full speed, and crying out as loud as he could, Chear up, Madam, chear up, your Mis­fortunes are drawn to a period; for the Jealous Gentleman is dead. The Marchioness of Sevil arrived a little after, who confirm'd it to me; and from that very day the Earl of Englesac embracing the Knees of the Marchioness of Sevil; Ah! Madam, said he, assist me, I be­seech you, in the regaining of my dearest Mistress, that so many Misfortunes have deprived me of for so considerable a time. This Transport could not be more advantageously managed; for it touched the Marchioness home, and as­saulted her Weakness. She wept, we all wept; and the conclusion was, that after the time of mourning was over, she would be­queath to me a great part of her Estate, that the Countess of Englesac might the better ap­prove of her Son's Marriage with me.

Here, Madam, you have one part of the History which you earnestly desir'd me to in­struct you in. The fear that I have to fatigue your Highness by too prolix a Reading, forces me to refer the recital of what even'd to me after my Espousals with the young Earl, to another opportunity.

In the mean time, I most humbly suppli­cate your Highness to believe that I have related nothing to you but Truth: That I shall be ever ready to disclose to you [Page 52] my most private Errours, and what injuri­ous construction soever my Adversaries would put upon them. Appearance, which often deceives, has been all the Crime in my Con­duct.

THE ADVENTURES AND MEMOIRES OF Henrietta Sylvia Moliere. PART the III.

IT might well be judged, Madam, that we were in a state of Tranquillity and Re­pose, after we had tasted of the Genero­sity of the Marchioness of Sevil; and with these perswasions, I avow to your Highness, that we relished already the most ravishing Transports of Joy, when they succeed the most tedious Griefs. Our thoughts were wholly employed about the Consummation of that happy Marriage, even before the ex­piration of the accustomed time of Mourning; we delay'd the time, as if all things had de­pended solely upon our selves.

But we reckoned without Fortune, who was none of our Friends. She had made a vow that the Earl of Englesac's Adventures should deservedly run parallel with mine be­fore he should be happy; and in her opinion he had not as yet met with sufficient Crosses. She would make him deserve by an infinity of other Troubles to be my Heroe, and that that should make me fall into new Extrava­gances. I am perswaded the relation will divert your Highness no less than what you have already perused; my Fate having hi­therto taken care to have me ill, but pleasant­ly treated.

And first, Madam, at the same time that we projected such fine things, there must needs be a separation between us of 200 Leagues distance and better; nor was this the most terrible Adventure that could happen to Lovers.

The Earl's friends affirm'd, that 'twas ne­cessary he should go to Languedoc, to amuse Madam his Mother, who had not seen him since his return to France; whilst I should travel to Brussels with the Marchioness of Se­vil, to demand my Dower, and justifie my former Conduct as well as I could. There were also some other reasons that required it; for 'twas not the way to make the best advantage of the death of a Jealous Husband (who seem'd to leave this world on purpose [Page 55] to withdraw us from a nice business) to be convinced that he could carry me away by force, if he should continue near me without success. He took leave of me drowned with Tears; and that very day we travelled one from the other by different ways, where we begin the Third part of this Romance.

For my own part, I had not so much trou­ble as I thought, to obtain the favour of those of Brussels. They remembred my frollickish humour without malitious Reflections. They had well weighed with what Innocence I could be able to endure this counterfeit Stew­ard in my Husband's house, who entred not by my consent or approbation. Besides, they did imagine to my greater advantage, what an Aged Spaniard, who thought himself con­vinced of the infidelity of a Wife from sixteen to seventeen years of age, could possibly re­solve against her; and no body thought it strange that I endeavoured to avoid a tedious punishment.

In a word, my Disguise in the habit of a Man, was attributed to the necessity of ab­sconding my self from a Husband, who was a potent Lord, and had long Arms: and as for my Adventures, 'twas said that I did not seek them; nor did they look upon it as a thing inconsiderable, that I, sporting with Fortune, who plai'd the wag with me, should extricate my self, chargeable with so few su­spitions; [Page 56] and I say so few, Madam, because they imagined, and that not without cause, that the absolute necessity of concealing my self, had engaged me to be prudent, as well as my innate vertue; and permitted me at the most onely to make other women to miscar­ry.

Besides, the major part of the Flemish La­dies, I say the most rigid, did not look upon me with a more evil Eye: They did not so much as open their Mouth, but onely to be­moan my Misfortunes. Nay, I am apt to be­lieve, that to plead my Justification through­ly, I put some of them in the way to justifie my former proceedings; for the Countess du Cardonnoy did as much five or six days af­ter my arrival, and fled in Man's Apparel from her Husband's house, who Treated her too inhumanely. You may possibly have heard all the particulars of that Story, for the La­dy took Sanctuary in your Highnesses Coun­trey.

Yet I did not procure my Dower without a Suit at Law with my Husband's Heir, who was his Nephew, and called Meneza also: besides, it had proved an intricate business when he grew Amorous, and which would have continued a long time e're I could have accomplished it, if a Brother of this Meneza, who was Governour of several places in West India, under the King of Spain, had not [Page 57] been so audacious as to declare himself King. This News coming luckily to the Marquiss of Castel-Rodrigo, with Orders to secure all the Relations of this new Monarque, the good Gentleman was taken into custody; which tended somewhat to the advantage, or, at least, expedition of this curious Enterprize: and this was all that I met with in this Coun­try.

As for the Earl of Englesac, he was not so happy in Languedoc. The Marquiss de Bi­rague, who was resolved not to lose his pre­tentions, was very industrious, from time to time, to inform himself of all News. He was not ignorant of my good or bad Fortune: He knew that I was taken away by violence, and suspected the Author of it. He understood that my Husband was dead: and, I know not by what means, he had discovered that the Earl and I had promised Marriage (proba­bly 'twas by his friend Monsieur de la Frette, who was told it at Brussels.) But at length, to break the neck of all our designes, he saw him no sooner arrived, but he put it in the head of Madam his Mother, to marry him with a She-Cousin of his, Birague by name.

The person was Illustrious, and the name of Birague correspondent: Her Estate great; for she was an Heiress; and the Wit and Beauty of the Lady was much greater, which rendred her not onely worthy of the Alliance [Page 58] of the Countess of Englesac, but of a Prince himself; so that I had no mean Rivaless.

The Earl soon understood the Stratagem, which was the more intricate, because the Marquiss did revenge himself on him by all the apparent tokens of highest esteem, and that in effect that Marriage had proved a kinde of Fortune to him, if without the enjoyment of me there could be any for that faithful Lover.

Besides, as passionate as he was for me, he wanted not good Conduct; he rais'd this storm onely feignedly. He was not so great an Heretick as some are, who make it an Ar­ticle of their Creed, that when a Man is amo­rous of a Woman, he is prohibited to play the Counterfeit gentilely with others, and that he must grossly offend them all, to make trial of his Fidelity. Besides, he was not a man that could do a publick injury to a young and fair person by a denial. And on the other hand, he could not do it without extreamly provoking his Mother, who was a severe Lady. What was his last resolution, think you? To see his new Mistriss, and to make his Amours to her: he behaved himself herein, as many true-hearted men do, who judge it no great crime to dissemble with Ladies, what risque soever he runs, by that means falling in love with them; and all this in expectation of an opportunity to break off with them hand­somely. [Page 59] He believing also, that it was not necessary for him to afflict me, by giving me to understand that he was obliged to have recourse to his dissimulation, he wrote nothing to me about it; which occasioned a great confusion.

Birague, the most experienc'd Lover in the world, and the most perplexing Rival, two qualities inherent in him, which are no more to be disputed, than that of a brave and ac­complish'd Gentleman: For in truth, he is such as I Characterize him to be, he has a Nobler Spirit than all the Heroes in History, put them together: He is one of the most Complaisant Gentlemen in the whole Uni­verse, when he is not unfortunate in his Love; and truely I shall not be disturb'd if he should hear that I do him this Justice, to publish his rare Qualities, to the end that he may the better excuse the Complaints that I shall make of him in this insuing Story. Birague, I say, who knew that de la Frette at Brussels held a general Correspondence of Intelligence by Letters with the Ladies of Montpellier, and with some others of his Neighbours, did not fail to make them write to this Gentleman about the Marriage which was in agitati­on.

La Frette, who frequently visited the Marchioness of Sevil, who had the goodness to flatter her self that it was upon her own [Page 60] account, acquainted him with this Novel; then he communicated it to me very cunning­ly, and with a designe the more malicious, because he thought that would disturb me, and revenge himself of me for my cruelties. I speak thus, Madam, because he was as yet one in the Catalogue of my Lovers, and that my Malevolent Stars had such an Influence as to perswade him, as well as many others, that I must not be seen without being beloved, or at least, without being told so.

You may pretty well guess what I did then divine, understanding this news, which I did not suspect the Ladies of Montpellier to have a hand in: besides that it was not barely invented; yet for all that, 'twas some­what irksome to me at first to perswade my self that it was so; but at last my Capricio joyning with my Misfortune, I was so offen­ded with the Earl, that without any farther examination of matters, I desisted altogether from writing to him. The Marchioness of Sevil, who was so fond as to disclose all her Secrets to her dearly beloved Monsieur de la Frette, went also, to compleat my Misfortune, and made him her Confident of this effect of my Choler; and he looked upon it as an happy occasion, to supply the Earl's place in my Affection, if he could redouble the causes of my Defiance of him. He intercep­ted and suppressed some Letters he sent to [Page 61] me, which probably might have undeceiv'd me; and wherein he acquainted me, that my Silence was death to him: and I really believing that he did not care for writing to me any longer, fell into a grievous disorder, and was made a Prey to that Passion which I concealed not without difficulty. In fine, I would needs go to reproach this perfidious Man with whatever came into my minde, before the face of his new Mistriss. All the reasons that the Marchioness and Merinvil could alledge to disswade me from it, did, much ado, defer my departure for some days.

I had but one pretence to make, that I might take this Journey the more plausibly; and having found it out, I parted with him and all my anger at once; or if you had ra­ther have it so worded, with all my Jealousie; for I really think it was so: but I must tell you what this pretence was.

I have discoursed to you elsewhere of the goodness of the Noble Duke de Candale; and I have acquainted you, that entreating the Sieur de Moliere, one of the Receivers in the Exchequer-Office, to adopt me, he had in­spir'd strange paternal tenderness in this Man by vertue of his Money; the pretence took original from thence.

I always looked upon that Money as lost, and thought it a very rash thing to demand Restitution of his Heirs, not dreaming in the [Page 62] least that the Duke had the pre-caution to take security for it. But the Marchioness, who was always a meet help to me in my exigencies, recollected her Memory as to this particular business, and informed me, that there was formerly some Writing seal'd, which she did not well remember, about this My­stery. She told me farther, that the Duke himself had deposited it in the hands of a Frier belonging to the Chartreux of Villeneufe, Procurator of the house at that very time; and that this Chartreux had made a promise to return me the Money if it should happen that my Father the Exchequer-Officer should not make the best advantage of it.

This Discovery rejoyced me beyond imagi­nation; not so much for the benefits that might accrew to me thereby, as that this would be my true Pass-port to Languedoc; and return'd the Marchioness Thanks with many repeated Embraces: and to the end I might testifie my acknowledgement of so great a kindness, I did not amuse my self to dis­compose her with Questions, by what Inte­rest she was so well inform'd heretofore of all these passages; nor what was the reason she never told me a syllable of it, from the time that we met together at Bourdeaux. After this I took my intended Journey, accompa­nied all along with my faithful Servant Me­rinvil, and an antient Man, who was my Gen­tleman-Usher. [Page 63] And what are we, Madam, when we are overtaken with any Passion? I never came soon enough to any of my Sta­ges; I would have had a Coach that should have been some flying-Chariot, or I my self Wings, to be at Montpellier with the greater speed, where my Desires were lodg'd before my arrival.

However, at last I reach'd the place, and could have rested satisfied with my diligence, if it had not prov'd unsuccessful: for I was soon assured when I came thither, that the Earl of Englesac was not in that Coun­try.

The anxiety of my Minde for not receiv­ing any more Letters, and the rumour that Birague had purposely spread abroad of some new Passion that I entertained; his Jealousie, Spight, and Anger, which were as vehement on his part as my own: All these together had forced him to leave his Mother and Mi­striss rudely, without bidding them adieu. He took Post for Flanders, to come and up­braid me there, at the very same time when I came with the like intent to Languedoc; and had left no other hint with his Servants of the cause of his departure, but some suspi­tion of a new Duel, which had already for­ced tears from all persons interessed.

How great, Madam, think you, was my Amazement when I arrived! not when I un­derstood [Page 64] all these circumstances; for I was not acquainted with them, till the Earl had instructed me with them at his return; but when I heard it reported that they knew not what was become of him!

And to heighten my discontent, the Mar­quiss de Birague met me that very day at Montpellier, and coming to see me, he put it into my head, that the pretence of this Duel was taken from the bruit of my coming, that he might not be engag'd to apologize for the Marriage. The Imposture took, and I believe'd it; although if I had made but some slight Reflections upon it, I had soon found his Story impossible. My Affliction was ex­traordinary; but I omit discoursing of it, to turn my thoughts again upon the malice of the Marquiss de Birague. When I reflect, Madam, upon the means that he us'd to per­swade me what he pleas'd, I could not for­bear crying out, It is the greatest mischief that can oppress a Lady, to have such a burthen as a second Lover like him, and not to be able to love two men at one and the same time.

Yet his expectation was frustrated, in thin­king to transport me to the extremity of anger against Englesac, which tended onely to increase my adversion against himself, whom I accus'd as the Author of all my Di­sparagements.

I was forced to exclaim bitterly, maugre [Page 65] the resolution I had taken to feign that I came not thither to see the Earl: O how I am ab­solutely destin'd to constant Sufferings! Then looking on the Marquiss, with a menacing Eye, and full of Tears; Be gone, Sir, said I, and secure your self from my presence; your onely Trea­sons, your Remisness solely have made me lose Monsieur Englesac, if it be true that I have lost him; and you are too audacious to come notwith­standing this, and insult over me with your Vi­sits, after that you have been the cause of all the miseries of my Life, after you have rendred me the Fable of the whole World.

He was very much astonished, and did not expect this roughness from me. He blushed, and looked pale at some other passages in my discourse: He knew not how to answer me, he was so distracted; for which I ask his Par­don, now that nothing more does engage me to be his Enemy.

I came again to my self a little after I had been thus violently transported; which fell out so luckily, that it appear'd onely to him, and so was not divulged: he would not be too impetuous with me, having not as yet lost the hope of reducing me one day to a Com­pliance with his desires; and the day follow­ing I departed to go to the Chartreux and demand my Writing; which I found, and had, and returned back with it to put it into the hands of those that belong to the Palace, to [Page 66] commence a Suit about it; which did amaze abundance of people, who dream'd of nothing less. I was visited, fawn'd upon, and mena­ced by the parties interessed. They proposed an accommodation, which was begun, bro­ken off, and renewed; and at last I was sa­tisfied by my Debtors in process of time. But that is too forrain to my Subject, and there­fore I leave it.

I charged my old Gentleman-Usher with the care of these slight Interests; and my an­guish rendring my sojourning in the City grievous, I left it, in order to my going into the Abbess of Englesac's Covent. I was too happy in finding her still to espouse my inte­rest vigorously, and that I perceived by her I might discourse with her sometimes about my unfortunate Amours; for she was my Confi­dent, and I her's, and she never could blame her Nephew for the Love he bore me.

Yet for all this, I was there the three or four first days, without being capable of any consolation upon the account of the Infide­lity which I thought was offered me. Nay farther, I had the displeasure to see my Ri­valess come thither, to feel a strange palpita­tion of the Heart at the sight of her, and to finde her in my opinion very worthy of Love. See had taken an occasion to visit the Abbess with Madam de Englesac, whose Sister she was; possibly out of more curiosity to try [Page 67] if I were as beautiful as I was represented and so out of Envy to Triumph over me.

'Tis true, I had reason to believe that, at least, I had put her in as great a fear; for she seemed not less perplexed than my self. She never opened her Mouth to answer what the Lady Abbess said, but 'twas a trouble to her. And we did nothing but examine one the other very disdainfully, and by turns, from the very Head to the Foot; at such distance were we; and so Jealous had the reciprocal anger of each other rendred us, when we found there was cause of Fear on both sides.

I shall hardly ever forget this Interview, which alone was a sufficient Recompensation for all the Vexations that I had already un­dergone; and if I may so speak, the Damsel did very well to die of the Small Pox pre­sently after, to escape the Revenge which I might have had of her; for I could not re­solve to pardon her, being so beautiful as to be capable to balance my Lover.

But besides, Madam, the death of my Ri­valess was a Rencounter worthy of my self; she found her self seiz'd with the Small Pox a little after her Visit, and bore the affliction of that disgraceful Distemper, the terrour of all fair Ladies, very impatiently. She had been sick nine days without any great danger; and they might easily have made it a Cure: [Page 68] but calling for her Looking-glass, and per­ceiving she was deformed and pitted; What shall I do, said she, in this world, since I have lost all my Beauty? She would take no farther course to save her Life; resolved absolutely to die; and departed some few days after, like a true Heroina. Yet she did not gratifie my humour herein, without a vexatious pur­chase thereof. For, whilst she was alive, I learned that the Earl of Englesac was retur­ned, being heated with the report of her Di­stemper, and resolved to marry her with all speed. If your Highness be astonished at this sudden alteration, I will unriddle you the Aenigma, and disclose the reasons that he thought he had to return in this manner.

The officious Marquiss de Birague was the first that brought me this news; for he was the Messenger of all my Misfortunes; I was ready to die at the relation of it: After that, it was confirm'd to me by a man that I sent purposely, who return'd me this answer: That the Earl, understanding he belong'd to me, would not so much as vouchsafe to see him. I was then within a small matter quite out of my Senses; I went out of the Cloister in spite of all the Remonstrances of the Lady-Abbess, to go and meet this perfidious man in person. I entred, to the amazement of all that were there present, the House, nay, the very Chamber where this sick Lady lay, [Page 69] and was guilty of all the actions that could speak me fondly foolish. And, to tell you the truth, this did not contribute any thing to the regaining of my Reputation: for this is not the way to establish one's self in the mindes of others: and 'tis sometimes doing worse, provided that one knows not how to counterfeit the prudent Woman discreet­ly.

O! how I was afflicted, Madam, to say no more, when I saw him there on both his Knees by the Bed-side acting the part of a dying man with my Rivaless: When I saw him take her by the Hands, lying on the Clothes, and kiss them, praying for her Life with warm Tears, which he shed the more, and with the greater delight, because he saw me there present; and heard him swear, that if the Small Pox should make her the most deform'd person in the world, he should love her still more than the greatest Beauty; I be­lieve I had killed them both, if I had had Abi­lity suitable to my Will, and that from my very entrance I had not been outraged, upon the first assault that was offered.

The sick Lady, who soon perceiv'd the mi­serable condition that I was in (and 'tis pro­bable pitied me) ey'd me very earnestly, as if she had somewhat to impart to me; and seeing that I looked upon her with a fixed aspect, elevated her voice as high as she could [Page 70] to speak to me. Shake off your trouble, said she to me; I deliver up to you with all my heart what my Life and Parents had almost deprived you of. Then putting by gently the Earl of Englesac with her Hand, and moving him a little toward my side, as if she would oblige him to turn about; Go, Sir, go, said she, 'tis too great Dissimulation, too great Cruelty toward a person that is so deeply in love with you: Marry her, and permit me to die quietly.

The Lady d' Englesac was very highly of­fended at these her last words, Marry her; and without any farther consideration, her son led her presently away, not so much as affor­ding me a Look, to let her see at what a rate he contemned me, I know not what she might have answered. He went out of the Castle, and I after him, led back at a sufficient distance by the Marquiss, who never wanted an occasion to persecute me, but discoursed to me at that time, though I heard him not.

I say nothing of my Actions since that day to the time of my Reconciliation with the Earl, which did not happen till above eight days after the death of Madam de Birague for that was onely a time dedicated to Mour­ning. But this is the ground of that horrid Transportation, which made him take this course, to punish me in espousing this Kin [...] woman of the Marquiss's.

He rode Post to Brussels to accriminate me; and staying one night at Paris to rest him­self, he heard by accident, that the young and true Prince de Salmes, lately arrived in France, was lodg'd at the Apartment of Brissac, whence he newly came. It was this Prince whose Name I assumed the year before, and the same whom Englesac thought to Compli­ment when they brought him to the Gentle­womans Daughters in the Palace Royal: for, as I have said elsewhere, they knew one another in Germany.

They must needs renew their acquaintance and sup together that night; and among the Messes that were served up, we Ladies, who are discoursed of every where, made up one for their entertainment, during their Repast. The young German had studied the humour and temper of the Court-Detractors, thinking them to be the greatest Gallants. Nor was he of opinion that he had made sufficient ad­vantage of his Travels, if he had not taken delight to discourse, upon all occasions, of some good Fortune that had befallen him, and made them believe that he was intimate with all Ladies who were of a ticklish Repu­ation: He heard me mentioned, to my mis­fortune, among those that made up the Chro­nicle. They told him at Paris what had pas­sed under his Name, and at Brussels also all that was known of me; as the Issue and [Page 72] Circumstances of my Proceedings at Law, my departure for Languedoc, where I went to manage a Suit at Law, and some other little Secrets, which might induce him to suspect that he had particular conversation with me; and as he remembred, that the Earl was con­cern'd in the Intrigue, I was the first with whom he thought himself oblig'd to enter­tain him, for his better confirmation. He told him with a smile, that he had known me as well as himself, and that I had made him a most gentile acknowledgement for the good Offices which were done me by the usurpa­tion of his Name during my Disguise.

What a strange Adventure is this, Ma­dam! What strange News was this, for a Jealous and Tired Gentleman, who staid at Paris onely that night to take a little Rest? Do you not also admire at the madness of most young Men, who usually rend our Repu­tation thus in pieces, when they know not so much as of what Complexion we are? for I vow to you, Madam, that this Prince de Salmes had never set eye on me, and that I never knew him for above fifteen Moneths afterward, and that by an Adventure at la Place Royale.

The Earl was not as yet in a capacity to suspect me of Remisness: But hearing a Sto­ry well managed, (for they did make it one) related by a young German Prince, the most [Page 73] faithful, sincere, and true-hearted Nation in the whole World; and calling also to minde the report of my Gallantries, which reach'd to Languedoc, he was satisfied that I was criminal; and the indifference that he be­lieved I shew'd for his Letters, to many of which I never returned an answer, did con­tribute to this his perswasion.

He counterfeited the displeasure that he took at this news; and when the time came that they must take leave, he went to bed, where he remain'd till morning furiously en­rag'd both with me and the German. He hath protested to me since, that he was temp­ted above a hundred times to go and poig­nard this indiscreet Man in his own Cham­ber, and so to save the Marquiss de Trechateau the labour of killing him two or three years after, as he did at Nancy.

I wept bitterly when I had from his own Mouth this grievous Manifestation, whereby I understood all these things; and I made an Oath never to forgive him the outrage he had done me in suspecting of me. But what cannot a Lover do that is belov'd and penitent, and accomplish'd, as the Earl of Englesac was?

He came often to the Abby to beg my par­don, at least to be so well advis'd as to pre­vent such mischiefs for the future; and what shall I say? in short, he knew so cunningly [Page 74] how to regain me, that in spite of Fortune, to whom I resolved to afford, if there were occasion, a new Subject of Discourse, both concerning her and my self. The Curate of Nice stood our friend in this Rencounter; and the next day in the morning I took my leave of the Abbess, to attend my Bridegroom at Paris, where we intended to be privately married by the Arch-Priest de la Magdelaine. And our Designe, Madam, had taken effect, if that the Demon Birague had not met with us, whose Company was not at all desired. He understood, I know not by what means, that the Curate of Nice had betroathed a young Gentleman and an indifferent hand­some Lady. He advertis'd the Countess of Englesac, that her Son endeavoured still to amuse her with dissembled contempts of me, expecting to hear from me in order to our Matrimonial Conjunction. The lady, ac­cording to her custom, did fly out into great Passion, threatning to break off all; and I, who was too vain-glorious to dispatch the Marriage till all was agreed upon, would not permit the Earl to proceed any farther, though he came Post to finde me out with that intent: and I was content to make trial of the credit of my Enemies, by the sole chance of what they would do against the Espousals. 'Tis here that I promise my self Adventures, and that your Highness will blame me, and possi­bly laugh too in blaming of me.

The Countess of Englesac lost no time in going to Paris, where she arrived almost di­stracted, and threatning all the Curates with Death that should have the impudence to think of our Intermarriage. It were endless to endeavour to acquaint you with the Cir­cumstances, all the Transports of this turbu­lent Woman, and all the tricks that she put upon me; 'tis sufficient to tell you, that her chief care was to spread abroad everywhere the Romances which I acquainted you withal in the Second Part of those Memoires that they had writ of my Life; and that imme­diately made them think ill of me, who possibly otherwise might have been gai­ned to be of my Faction, if not prevented hereby. It was somewhat worse too, if pos­sible, than that infamous Satyr, where the too-fair Lady d'Olone is unworthily decried by fabulous Stories, to have pleased, without doubt, some person which did not at all please her. To my first Misfortunes, and my innocent Intrigues, which they did traduce me for, the Lord knows how, they added far­ther, that Monsieur the Earl of Soissons, Mes­sieurs d'Armagnac, de Sault, and de Louvigny were Heroes concern'd therein: However, I call them to witness whether they ever knew me or no. Monsieur the Duke de Beaufort, and he of Nevers, did walk with me by turns, the one at Bouteux in la Ville l'Evesque, and [Page 76] the other, I know not where: Nay, Fortune her self, where I never set foot, did com­plain of my Prophanations; and, having lear­ned who I was, would not permit me to re­main three days among those Holy Pensiona­ries. What a horrid Reproach was this? In fine, Madam, all was full of such kinde of Lies, or Praises, Pests at best, and the reading thereof did so much the more injure my Re­putation, by how much those things ordina­rily please and insinuate, and that what was true, seem'd to vindicate all the rest.

After all this the old Complaints to the Queen-Mother were renewed, who was at last tired to hear of nothing but my over­forward pranks for almost six years continu­ance; she immediately fell into a great Passion of Anger against me, at least as great as so good a Princess as she was capable of, which never hapned but upon the account of Vertue; and from thence proceeded the private Orders to discover my Retreat. For the Earl and I were at first conceal'd, to finde out what course they would take in this affair. This also was the reason that he, to secure himself of me, would lead me into I know not what place, if they had forced me out: and finally, the very detaining of the Earl, who (being informed of this scandalous Report, and not able to with-hold himself from shewing his Grief even at the feet of the Queen her self, [Page 77] where he indiscreetly pretended to justifie me) found that the Order was also to secure himself.

He was detain'd, and, together with the news which was almost assoon brought me as done, I had the misfortune to fear that it was not for that onely that they had secured him, because there were several other Rumours about it at the same time. But what did I do, Madam, think you, when this was told me again?

I perciev'd certainly that they sought no­thing more than my ruine, and that I had no more to do but to confine my self to my re­tirement, which was safe, to avoid falling in­to the hands of my Enemies. They did not think of coming to finde me out in that place, which I will forbear naming with your Highnesses permission; for I have promised so to do, and you could never divine it. 'Tis enough to tell you 'twas a Monastery of Men, and that I was in a decent habit. Nay, I might have taken also Measures for many o­ther things, there being no want of idle per­sons, who were ready to serve me in any thing.

But it was unworthy a person of my Cha­racter to think of her own safety, when her Lover was so persecuted, whereas that should have turned to the advantage of both. An ordinary Spirited person, a Woman that had [Page 78] not begun her Life as I have done, and which would not be so much as suspected to have any relation to the Marchioness of Sevil, might have buckled to such a base Condescention: But I, Madam, scorn'd any rest till I was as­sured of that of my dear Englesac. I resol­ved to go and present my self at the Louvre, now it was my turn, to destroy my self with him, or to save him; and I went to seek out the Queen-Mother even at the very Val-de-Grace ('tis true, that it was well I did com­mit that piece of folly) to demand the Death or Liberty of my Lover, and to acquaint her with many other melting and urgent particu­lars.

Madam, said I, throwing my self hastily at her Feet, all bedew'd with Tears, and calling my self by my Name, to the great satisfaction of some curious persons, who were there present, I do not appear here to supplicate your Majesties better opinion of me. I can at another time better justifie my Innocence, which I have hitherto preserved, notwithstanding all my Mis­fortunes: if your Majesty would give me leave, I could bring in my defence the example of those of your Court, whom bare Appearances , or Re­venge it self, have destroyed; and the number of them are but too many. I could say, that it is sufficient for the most part, to have some extra­ordinary qualities, but unsuccessful; and that will be occasion enough for Impudence thus to injure [Page 79] us in our Repute without any scruple, and that in this corupt Age Detraction spares no body. That some of Madam Englesac's Friends, who dare not here espouse my Quarrel before your Majesty, cannot but know what they say of her Ladyship, who when she flatters her self with the opinion of being reputed a Vertuosa by every one, a rash Stranger that knows her onely by Name, (and I have had this Misfortune in my Life-time more than once) hath, it may be, made her his scan­dalous Heroina two hundred Leagues off, com­prehends her in the recital of his Phantastick In­trigues. To conclude, Madam, I could not want Reasons enough, but something else inspir'd me with the boldness of presenting my self to the sight of an incensed Queen. They torment, and violently force away the Earl of Englesac. All the fault in this unfortunate Gentleman is, that he could never so much as bring my Vertue in question, and that he was more clear-sighted than other people. I come to offer self to all you can desire of me, and to sacrifice my Liberty for his; for doubtless he was onely deprived of it because I was at Liberty. I come, if it must be so, to renounce him for ever, and confess the Calumny by rendring my self Prisoner. I beseech your Majesty onely to have pity of him, and that you would give your Commands that he may live undisturbed.

I accompanied this noble Transport with many other Ornaments which I do not men­tion; [Page 80] and it seem'd novel, and prov'd suc­cessful: for the Queen was hereby diverted. She said, smiling to all her Retinue, that this was the Act of a tender and faithful She-lover. This did embolden some of her young Ladies to speak something in my behalf, and created at length a good inclination in her Majesty to be kinde to me. She did aver, she did not wonder that a person so accom­plish'd as my self could be Innocent: and said, she could not restore my Lover to his Li­berty; but that she would grant me my own to defend my self: and added farther, with a most obliging cast of the Head, a kinde of Prayer, that I would vindicate my self if pos­sible.

God knows the vexation that this News brought to the Countess of Englesac, who thought her self freed from making any far­ther pursuit in order to my Destruction. She was almost desperate, and would willingly have made more trouble, but all her malice signified nothing; and besides, something, I don't know what to call it, which speaks for me in my Physiognomy, had already almost gain'd the Queen-Mother, because the good and Vertuous Lady— was still of my side: She loved, said she, passionately beautiful Wo­men; and the envy she had for the Vermilion of my Lips made her become one of my Friends, that she might at some time have her [Page 81] fill of kissing me. What will your Highness think of this Effort of my Beauty? This En­try, I say, having gain'd on my side so con­siderable a person as she was, 'twas impossi­ble for the Countess of Englesac to succeed a­ny farther in her first Designes; and she must deal with me the usual way, that is, go to Law, which she did.

Then, Madam, there began between us a great and long Litigious Contest; but less dangerous by far than the evil Offices that I received by secret Calumny, for I was forced at the least to tell my reasons. I was present­ly appointed to appear before I know not what Judges: then the Parliament took no­tice of the business; the Council knew of it too in their turn; and in one of them I had a Counsellor that was in love with me, of whom I have somewhat to say.

The Marchioness of Sevil, who came to Paris from the first beginning of the Storm, defended me like her self. The Countess de Bossu, who staid there in her return from Rome, joyn'd also the Credit which her desert and noble Adventures could gain her in France, to other powerful Recommendations; and at last every Party made a Cabal. The Ladies de Ville-Savin, de Bercy, and D'Escures; two others who were Presidentes [...]es, and a great number of Vertuosa's of all Qualities, with whom Scandal had lost me, were for the [Page 82] Countess of Englesac, at least I was told so. I had for me all the Ladies that pitied me in their Relation to them, and who would wil­lingly have made it apparent in my Justifica­tion, that whatsoever had been said of them­selves, might prove as false as what they had said of me. The fair Mareschaless, among others, did do me greater service than any other per­son.

I had come to my ends with my Enemy, Madam, my fair Sollicitress having ever had a great ascendent upon theirs, if what they did for me had not prov'd unfortunate by my own fault, or rather that of my common Desti­ny.

At this time when all went very well, that they began to murmur against the Vertuosa's, and that they said they took too much delight in persecuting the Innocent; nay farther, when I was almost half Justified for want of proof against me, this evil Destiny did pro­cure me some ridiculous Adventures, which increased the Informations, and had like to spoil all. The Counsellor, as I said, who af­fected me, had part in some; and Monsieur the Earl de— in others. I will relate them to you in course, and in few words, that I may come the more readily to the rest. I be­gin with my Lawyer.

He was a man of a Brown Complexion, about 34 or 35 years of age, handsome e­nough; [Page 83] and who believed also that Nature had not made him to divert himself onely with French Ladies. He was one of the Jud­ges whose inclination or temper perswades them, that it is not a crime against the duty of their Charge, to make the Ladies purchase, not Justice, (for that were execrable) but the expedition of their Business, by some kinde of Favours.

This being suppos'd, I was not to be one of the Fortunate in Suits at Law, of whom he would take no Fee; and indeed it was not his intention, he onely trusted me. This foolish Fop, whose Extravagances would fill a Volume, had this among the most pleasant of them. He thought I should never love him sufficiently, if I were not satisfied that he was a brave fellow; and in this humour, one Evening when we were to run a Course, he had appointed three men to attaque our Chariot, and to fly assoon as he should be upon the Defensive part. The Bravery had succeeded well, and even beyond his expecta­tion; for before these pre-appointed Rob­bers came to exercise their Courage on him, three others, who had made no promise to fly, had robbed us in good earnest, and he fell upon them with all the courage of a man that despis'd his Life: it was in truth the way to be beaten, and that in a pitiful man­ner, as it happen'd; but no matter, at least [Page 84] his Valour, which I supposed to be real, had deceived me; and this good effect was a re­ward for the blows he received. But here, Madam, was the cruel Return of all, and which in the end destroyed the great Hopes and Re­putation, both of the one and the other.

As I had taken this Advocate for a perfect Amadis de Gaul hid under a long Robe, seeing him still in the hands of others whom he soon put to flight; the Watch which was then set throughout the City of Paris, seized on these pretended Robbers. They took them for the very Thieves indeed they look'd for, and that came just then from stopping the Coach of the Daughter of the Holland Embas­sador, the now Wife of the Compleat Mar­quiss de Rassaw. They drag'd them to Pri­son, and the miserable men were forced to own the whole Stratagem in their own de­fence, and my Misfortune did contribute to the truth of it without the least scruple; and the Satyrical Wits drew from thence as soon what circumstances were thought fit, which was of bad consequence both to my Cause and Judge.

In fine, Madam, this gave occasion to Ma­dam d'Englesac, first, to refuse it, then, to make good use of the Adventure, to re-in­force and give some countenance to those Scandals which they began not to hearken to any longer. Did your Highness ever hear [Page 85] of a thing more worthy of Laughter? In the interim 'twas a great mischief to me.

But the Affair that the Count de— had intermedled with, had something in it that was more cruel and fantastical; and I know not indeed whether it will seem probable to you, though there was never any thing more re­al.

Two fair Ladies, whom I will not name, or rather, which I am going to name, for your greater diversion, since your Highness has heard of them heretofore by other means. It was the Lady Baroness de Saint Frere, and the Lady de Feronne. These two Fair ones were tired with that Man's continued Dis­grace, of whom you desired to hear some­what in your last Letter, whether it were Acknowledgment or mere Humane Weakness that interessed them in his Misfortune, they resolved to make it their business to put an end to it: To put up their first Addresses to Heaven; (and I think that does always prove the nearest way) and if that did not avail them, to steer a quite contrary Course, to fly to the strength of Charms; and those not the Charms of their own Beauty, as you might possibly interpret it, I say, Madam, those of the Black Art.

I would not hazard the safety of any per­son by discovering the secret of these admira­ble Magicianesses: It was to take I know not [Page 86] what, which they were made believe the young Foal brought into the world with it, when first cast upon it's Forehead; to pre­pare it with certain Ceremonies; and this as they fancied would prove an admirable and unavoidable Philtre, which was cunningly to be given to Souldiers, and to the Captain him­self, if required; and the Captain and Soul­diers would assoon as they had received it run about the Streets, and offer themselves to do all whatsoever one could desire them. The Towers seem'd (pardon the expression) to fall, and the Gates too off their Hinges of their own accord, to set those at Liberty the Ladies had a minde should be discharged. I will not amuse my self to desire you to compassionate them for this simplicity, nor to tell you that however these Women pass'd for Wits, for fear of enervating my Narrative too much.

There was required also towards this a Mare, and here it is that the young Count de— begins to have a part in this myste­rious business: That which they made use of was his; one of his Grooms for the lucre of ten or twenty Pistols had turned him out of the Stables, and thought he should be acquit­ted if he pretended to finde him again a few days after.

The Scene where this Comedy was acted, was in the Stable of a Carman of the Port, [Page 87] in a little Street that joyns to Pont-Marie. The two fair Ladies had privately convey'd themselves thither one night, without Atten­dants; and they had drawn me in also trea­cherously, by hiding from me their real De­signe. We had already spent the Night in setting ridiculous Watches about the Mare; which did frighten me, and made me suspect that my Friends were grown foolish. We were to continue this extravagant Ceremo­ny till the time of the Birth of that pretious Animal, and for what reason I have quite forgot. They inclined me also to believe I should see other things more Novel; when at last, I know not by what mischance, to our cost, the Earl of— was advertised that his Mare, whose loss he bore very impatiently, was carried to the Carter's. He came thither all in a rage, accompanied with the Marquiss de Phimartin, and the Count de Signac, who out of their friendship to him were not much less heated with anger than himself. ('Tis true, that that Choler could not withstand the new Passions raised in them by the Rencounter of three such accomplish'd Ladies as we were.) He surprized us at this fine Exercise, which appeared to him and his friends to be a true Incantation upon all accounts, and that in the end had all the Consequences 'twas capa­ble of. The noise spread it self abroad, if it were not by the indiscretion of these young [Page 88] Lords, who were become our Lovers (and this I must not forget, the Count of— loved ever after the Baroness of Saint Frere; the Marquiss of Plumartin, the Lady Feronne; and I my self had a share in the Earl of Signac, who will have a part when it comes to his turn in the enlargement of this Story: I shall be at the least as much importun'd by him as the Marquiss de Birague.) If, I say, it hap­pen'd not by the indiscretion of these young Lords, it was by that of their Retinue who followed them. And at the same time, though I had the least hand in it, yet they did not forbear to charge me freely with the whole, and to adde to the rest of my fam'd Quali­ties, that of an Honest Sorceress; pardon me for this gross and unpleasant Word, which I could not here pass over.

You may judge, Madam, the farther Inju­ry that that might do me above all, being it was raised by the Countess of Englesac; for she was not scrupulous of Sacrificing the Ho­nour of both the other Ladies with mine, to obtain her end. If one would believe the Flourishes she added to the Adventure, they might accuse me of somewhat else than Ma­gick, and Monsieur the Earl of— and his two Friends, had been revenged upon the place for the Innocent Felony which we had caused to be made of the Mare, by other ef­fects, which Gallantry terms also Innocent [Page 89] Felony. These Gentlemen, who had always the Repute of the most Honest and Wise Courtiers, ceased to be so for our sakes onely. And our Faces, that usually command Re­spect at the very time when they inspire men with Desires, did us no service at all in a Stable. Nay, she said what was worse than all this, which I dare not acquaint you with; but this mischance had been inconsiderable, in that it onely had like to have lost my busi­ness at Paris, if it had not tended to embroil me with my Lover in the cruellest manner in the World, as I am going to give you to un­derstand immediately.

And though the Countess of Englesac had a strict Eye over him in that place, which was his Bastile or Prison, yet he was truely in­formed of all passages. Besides, his Mother did not fail to send him this distracting news; he had them confirm'd to him by the same persons that instructed him from time to time what he had a minde to learn. Those of his Acquaintance, who were not suspe­cted by the Lady d'Englesac, and visited him sometimes, did turn the matter probably a­nother way very proper to perswade him: and that hapned, which I conjectured would never happen more, after the clearing of the last Artifices of Birague, and the vanity of the Prince de Salmes.

In short, the Earl at least suspected my [Page 90] Conduct, or way of Living. What do I say? My Mischief was so great upon this sad and dismal occasion, and Jealousie must needs pro­duce such strange changes in the minde of this poor Earl, that he took it for granted his Love had ever hitherto blinded him: and in the Indignation which this bred in his Heart, and which the Lady d'Englesac did at length believe, he did and signed all that she desired without, contradiction. He beg'd of her to set him at Liberty, to fly from me, to separate himself from me, with the same earnestness he would have sought me out, if I had been guiltless. He obtained it. There was at that very time a War between England and Holland, and many Illustrious Cavaliers had made a party in the Dutch Army, and he went among them. I was told of it the very day; and through my excessive grief, it had like to have proved the last day of my Life.

What Discontents had I! what Spleen a­gainst the gentile Advocates, who would counterfeit brave Gallants! What Hatred for the fair Baroness of Sainte Fere, and Madam Feronne! What Imprecation against their im­pertinent Magick! What Fury against the Master of the Mare and both his Friends! I would acquaint you with all these effects, if I had not greater Curiosities to impart to you. For, Madam, this Scandal came not unaccom­panied; and to compleat all my ill Fortune, [Page 91] the Marchioness of Sevil bethought her self of turning Amorous, in her old age, of a youth between seventeen and eighteen years old, and to desire him in Marriage of his Pa­rents. I told her indeed, to little or no pur­pose, that if she could not avoid being passio­nate in Love, she might make choice of other remedies, and that she should remember that God pardons all, and men nothing at all. (This, to speak truth, was a little idle; but how could I express my self otherwise to such a fond Fool?) 'Twas to no purpose to re­present unto her the interest of a decent De­corum of her carriage, both upon mine and her own account, that she was about to com­mit an unpardonable crime. I could not at all prevail with her. 'Twas not her fault that it was not effected. And all the means that I used to withdraw her from it, did onely serve to embroil my self again with her, who was my sole support; and such a confusion too, that may be would have prov'd irrecon­cilable, if there had not been between us, as I always thought, a stronger Tye than that of Sympathy and Friendship.

But what think you, Madam, of these last Capricio's of my Misfortune? Being Intrigu'd with almost all my Acquaintance that could serve me; with [...]y Advocate; with the La­dies that sollicited for me; with Birague, a long time ago; with Signac, almost assoon [Page 92] as I knew him; for he had not the patience to wait till he was beloved, and I had given him his farewel with the hazard of creating a great Enemy to my self. In fine, evil trea­ted also by the Lover beloved; and abando­ned, if I may say so, by a Mother, since 'twas by the Marchioness of Sevil: Could I since stand in fear of any new Disgrace, at least, if it were not my Death? True, and I soon had the terrible trial of it.

I sent a Messenger with Letters to the Earl of Englesac, to plead my justification in all things pass'd; who returned, and told me there had been a bloody Battle between the English and Dutch, and that this my dearest Love was swallowed up by the Waves. That Battle was fought in June 1666. He went aboard the same Vessel the Prince of Monaco and the Count de Guiche did. And after dreadful Ex­ploits performed, (for that is a proper name for them) and that he had like a Lion seconded these two Illustrious Voluntaries, who possibly fought as he did, stir'd up by Honour, compo­sed of somewhat more than ordinary, and per­formed Exploits beyond men; in short, he perished, endeavouring to save the life of the former.

This Prince being surprized by the burning of a Fire-ship, whereunto the heat of the Battle had thrust him forward too vigorously, he threw himself into the Sea, thinking to [Page 93] make a Shallop, and so was drown'd among broken Masts and Cordages that hindred his swimming. The Earl of Englesac, who was ever an admirer of the Prince de Monaco for his Valour, as well as the Count de Guiche, leap'd from another Vessel into a Shallop to help him, and did so too; for by this means the Servants of the Prince had an opportunity to lay hold of their Master, and pluck him out of the Sea (and may be this passage would surprize grateful Spirits, who never knew well who they were engaged to for the best part of so great service.) To conclude, he had honourably Crown'd his former by this last Action: But the Shallop he was in split at the same time, and sunk to the bottom with him; and fresh Ships coming, and riding in the place where he was shipwrack'd, 'twas not questioned but that he was irrecoverably lost.

But 'twas no such thing as yet; nay, it would be unjust, and unprecedentable, that the chief Heroe in a History, who ought to resemble a curious Fable, should be really dead before he had finished his Adventures. We will raise him again if you please, when time shall serve, and finde that the Waves did but waft him up and down many places of the Sea, till by the mercy of Romantick De­stiny, that sported with him, as well as my self, he was taken up by one of the English Frigats.

In the mean time, Madam, what dismal news was this for me, when they informed me that he was dead after this manner? Your Highness cannot imagine the grief that seized on me, unless you have some time or other been as passionately in love with some one man, as I was with the Earl d'Englesac; and you are too prudent to be so overborn with Love. Yet I would desire you to think of one part of my regret upon the sincere aver­ment that I make you; that as this unfortu­nate Gentleman had been always dear to me, so I did then adore him, maugre the injustice he had done me; and that accident only made me more fond and desirous of a Reconcilia­tion. I grew furious; this onely Expression discovers exactly the condition I was in. I was almost in the minde to go and revenge the Son upon the Mother, and do my utmost endeavour to discompose her. 'Tis true, 'tis reported, that she her self was afflicted so far, as to be almost in the same despondent condi­tion with my self: In fine, this mischance, instead of choaking up all the Seeds sown by the disinteressed in the person that caused them, did onely serve to animate us to a Pro­secution at Law. The Countess of Englesac pretended to bring full proof of the Actions of my scandalous Life, and to seek her Re­venge in my Punishment: I would have mine in a publick way of Reparation. We stuck [Page 95] close to this Designe, which could not other­wise prejudice us. We were obstinate for all our Presidents, who judged this would prove ineffectual, and who endeavoured to disswade us from it seriously and in earnest. (They were the same persons, Jurandon and Grasset, which your Highness made choice of since that, to take care of your Concerns in France, and with whose management I believe you will be well pleased.) In fine, the whole Court wondred at our Contests, and it was an un­matchable Suit at Law.

But here possibly I have made too great a stay upon a passage not diverting; and to do that, I must return to the pleasant Adventures which frequently hapned afterward. The thought and apprehension of the certainty of the Earl of Englesac's Death, was a new original cause of it. It gain'd me new Cour­tiers, and recall'd my old ones. The Mar­ [...]uiss de Birague, and the young Count de Signac, among others, began to renew their Pretences more vigorously than ever; nay, my very Counsellor came and found me out, [...]o tell me, that though I had quite lost my Re­ [...]utation in the Eye of the World, he would [...]ot for all that shake off his Passion, but prose­ [...]ute it so far as to espouse me in private, if I [...]pprov'd of it.

I thanked him, as you may believe, with [...]uch civility as I thought suitable to so passio­nate [Page 96] a Compliment. I told him, I did in that the more applaud his rare Prudence, that if by chance I could be in a capacity to love him, after the loss of the dearest thing in the whole Universe, I should not resolve to be married to him, but in private; the Adventure of the counterfeit-Thieves having defamed him as much for a man, as it had me for a woman: And you may judge, Madam, whe­ther this was over-pleasing to him. The poor man returned with such a confused and pas­sionate Transport of Anger, that I doubt not but he desir'd with all his heart once more to be my Judge, to make me lose my Cause.

But this was nothing in comparison of what befel me by the Jealousie that Birague had of young Signac; which in my judge­ment was a trick of a man of Spirit, and a second Comedy. 'Tis said, 'twas the effect of what he had gain'd by the reading of Astrea, where there is just such another piece of malice; but whence soever he had his designe, it was a thing well contriv d, and ve­ry pleasant.

I confess that I did live with the Count de Signac somewhat more familiarly than with the Marquiss. Whether he had more Merit; (but that I do not pretend to decide) or whether he was more Sportive Comely, or Young; and this last Qualifica­tion [Page 97] does many times go very far. In fine, whether he had not given me such causes of Aversion for him as Monsieur de Birague; or that I stood less in awe of him, I freely per­mitted him to visit me: His little mutinous Pas­sions did not displease me, and seem'd to be of no consequence: And in that melancholick humour, which an irreparable loss had im­plunged me, I was not angry with him for coming to me from time to time, and stealing away some hours from my cruel Amuse­ments.

Birague was fearful that his Familiarity, and my Complaisance, would be seconded by my Marriage, which he intended for himself. Now, Madam, knowing well that it would be impossible to conquer me by any other way, he did in conclusion resolve to love me for his Oath's sake, and you will see a great proof of it by and by. He had not as yet desired the Communication of the Secret, as Monsieur the President did, and I could have been willing to satisfie him in; yet if what I tell you in this particular does astonish you, because the Lady Marchioness his Wife was still living, I must acquaint you that she had laboured a long time with a chronique Di­stemper, which she could not possibly be re­covered of: This poor Marquiss reckoned, that I could no sooner resolve to marry him, but that he should be a Widower at the very same instant.

Birague, I say, who would have been despe­rate if Monsieur Signac should win me from him, who had endured all that can be for the space of six years and better in not being be­loved, did ransack Heaven and Earth to sup­plant this dangerous Rival. And understan­ding at length, by one of his Spies, placed by him about me, that I was to go with this young Count to a Conjuring-woman or Astro­logess, what you please to call her, a cunning Woman, as they say, call'd by the name of the Dame Voisin, and to whom all the unfortunate Fair ones of the Court, and many Lovers be­sides, (for all the whole world is guilty of this weakness, and well may, for I my self have been guilty of it) to whom, I say, all the fair Court-Ladies in Love (for the itch of understanding what things are past, and the future, has not much Influence upon any, but such as are in Love) made no scruple of go­ing to ask her some consolation; and now he fancied that he had found out the true Secret of obtaining his designes.

He was with that Woman a day before us, whom he perswaded that she would do no injury to her Profession, if she did consult him onely for the answer she was to give me. He described me to her very exactly, that she might commit no ridiculous mistake. He told her what was pass'd, and instructed her what to say and predict of me; and among other [Page 99] things, That I must disengage my self of Sig­nac, and bid him defiance; That I must mar­ry a Widower, whom I should know by cer­tain signes: you may imagine to what all this tended; and it was in effect what that woman told me, when we were with her, after (according to her custome) she had exami­ned me in her Closet, which she calls the Clo­set of Oracles.

I confess, Madam, that the cheat was well contrived; and he might have certainly put a trick upon me, if the memory of the Earl d'Englesac, to which I would continue faith­ful, had permitted me to think of Matrimony since his death: For I gave credit to these Predictions with so much imbecility, that I blush for it now: I began from that minute to defie the Count de Signac, as they had wish'd me, to live no longer with him as I did formerly, to lay hold of all occasions to banish him my company; and I did accom­plish it effectually soon after, to his great re­gret, because he had already brought him­self to a pleasant habit of loving me in ear­nest.

But the best of the contrivance was, that one of the principal Marks whereby I should know him I was to be wedded to was, that he should shelter himself at my House from the fury of several Assassinates. It did not a little amaze me when I found that 'twas [Page 100] Birague had this Adventure a few days after. He took upon him to fulfil the Prophesies, and did not miss of his aim; nay possibly he re­membred somewhat of the Adventure of my President or Counsellor at Law, the designe of the persons hired to stand at a certain place and be ready at his Summons: what a flight was this, now when I think of it, which I never so much as question'd before!

I remember, when they began to draw their Swords upon this malicious Marquiss, I was standing at my Window, at one corner whereof I was, busied in contemplating upon the amiable Lady Madam de Castelnau, whose Coach stop­ped just over against my Door; and thus sa­tisfied an ancient curiosity that I had to see this Lady, who was always very advanta­geously Characteris'd as a most accomplish'd person. Merinvil was also in my Chamber, who was busie about something or other. O Heaven! said I, shrieking out aloud at the sight of the drawn Swords, and turning all at once to Merinvil, my business is done, and I am undone: This is the effect of what the Prophetess foretold me; and to heighten my ill luck, 'tis Bi­rague, that I love not, whom they did just now attaque, and is coming hither to secure himself; and shall I be so far unfortunate as one day to be­come the Wife of Birague? Miserable wretches, cri'd I to all my Lacqueys at once, who were in the Street, have a care that you let no [Page 101] body enter my House, let them rather kill one ano­ther there!

And judge you, Madam, what the Passen­gers could think, to hear me pronounce those cruel Words in so great a Discomposure. This had been enough to perswade them that I was one of the Complices in the Assassina­tion, if there had been really any such thing. Merinvil came and withdrew me from the Window, and demanded, in a greater confu­sion than I was in my self, the reason of that extravagant expression; and if I was not in a Dream, to believe that Birague, who to my knowledge was a married Man, was the Wi­dower mentioned by the Divineress; which did a little recompose me, and made me at length yield that he should save himself in my House; but 'twas too late: I had done enough already to bring my Reputation deep­ly in question, and to afford my Scandalizers large matter to work upon, and my Enemies to make a sad end of my Portrait.

'Tis true, I was in some measure excusable, because of the strong aversion I had then for the Marquiss; though now I protest he did not deserve it at my Hands, and that it was the effect of an evil custome, and a strange kinde of unknown Capricio, rather than of any reason that I had for it. But, Madam, this is not yet the whole History; I must be­gin where I left off, at what this dangerous [Page 102] man said to me after he was got into my Appartment, and what I said to him my self: he informed me among other things that his Wife lay a dying, if she were not dead alrea­dy; which was nothing but truth. What! said I, in a foolish tone, (which I thought would prove much to his diversion, if he had not been both Amorous and ill treated; but an unfortunate Lover cannot laugh) What! said I, that might well be, that you might have been, or should be, a Widower now! Go, Sir, I added farther, and assoon as you can possible deliver me from your sight. Fly from hence, and if you can be grateful, think no more of me. I thought also to have told him, that I repented I had been instrumental to the saving of his Life.

But I ought perhaps to conceal these last circumstances, which do me no great credit, and will not appear in themselves very pro­bable; because it is a thing unheard-of al­most, that the folly of a Woman, at least one that has not hitherto been judged unworthy of a Noble Family, should hurry her self to such extremities. However, I have told you nothing but what hapned, and my Stars were the cause of it. I will adde farther boldly, that I did not rest here; and in time I might possibly have committed many greater Extra­vagancies, if the Earl d'Englesac, whom I had bewail'd as dead for above ten Moneths, had [Page 103] not at last returned on purpose to put a stop to the whimsical effects of two different Pas­sions. I must inform you, Madam, of what pass'd particularly at this his unexpected Re­turn.

First, It was de Signac, who, though he was the Earl's absolute Rival, brought him back more Amorous than before; and having greater estimation of my Vertue than ever, he himself had taken pains to undeceive him. Could there be any thing done more honest? They met with one another upon the Ave­nues of Champlastreux, where one was walk­ing when the other was travelling for Pa­ris.

Secondly, The way of bringing him to me was altogether new, in that to surprize me the more pleasantly, (or to say truth more dangerously; for it had almost been the death of me) this young Gentleman was resolved to make me suddenly change my Anger into Joy; and to effect it, in lieu of submissive and modest complaints which he us'd in writing to me since his Exile, told me, Gentleman-like, that he was weary of his Banishment; and that I should prepare my self to receive him in my Chamber at midnight; that he had found out a secret to render me Amorous, and have thanks for his own visit; and if I would not accept of the party, I should dearly repent of it.

What could I think of such expressions which seem'd so insolent, to one that did not apprehend them, as I was far enough from understanding them? yet this was nothing to what follows; I was astonished when I found my Gentleman fail'd not to wait upon me at the hour appointed, and advancing as far as the Door of my Chamber without a­ny opposition, or consideration: ('Tis true, he was most certain of his excuse, because accompanied with the Earl of Englesac.) I was, I say, amazed when I heard him say, Open the Door, Madam, order the Door to be opened: I come to bring you both Joy, Love, and a Repose that will be far more acceptable than that which I now interrupt.

I cannot express how highly he incensed me by this proceeding, so void of Respect, and so far estranged from the civility where­with he ever treated me. Merinvil was not yet in bed, and I commanded her to tell that indiscreet person through the Key-hole, that he should retreat, and that I was cruelly of­fended at the liberty he had taken. But he made answer, he would not depart till they had opened the Door; and that he would force it open, rather than pass over that night without making his Peace with me, as he de­signed. He added many other things, which were able to put me into a Passion, though he pronounced them in a milde tone that [Page 105] spake his good Intentions; so I resolved at last to open the Door, but it was after I had seiz'd on a Sword, in order to his Reception, as I believed such an Insolent person deserved. O! said I then aloud, open him the Door, and let's see what he aims at. I believe truely I had not spared him in that angry fit at that time. Alas, Madam, how my Weapon dropt presently out of my hand at the sight of the Earl of Englesac, who gave way to this chea­ting Surprize. I made a great out-cry, and that was all; for I immediately fell into a Swoon, and was too happy that the various Joys which were assembled together in my Heart all at once, did not kill me upon the spot; for they say Women do die thus some­times. When I was come again to my self, my Tears onely spake for me; and running to embrace this my dear Object, I found it true, that Signac had brought me both Joy and Love.

As for the Earl of Englesac, he being pre­par'd to see me before brought to me, he might not probably undergo such violent Pas­sions as I suffered, though in standing mute and making use of no other Language but that of his Tears as well as I, he sufficiently discovered the bottom of his Heart. Almost an hour was spent in this manner; after which, having returned many thanks to the generous Signac, and my Lover and I having [Page 106] clear'd one another, and made a promise ne­ver more to question our fidelity, we took leave, in order to our meeting the next day at a certain place. For the Countess of Englesac was as yet ignorant that her Son was alive, or returned; and he would not present him­self to her, till he had taken some Measures to marry me at last, maugre all opposition what­soever, or at least be assured of this Content­ment before he would re-commit himself to the discretion of Fortune, which was so averse to us both.

Here, Madam, you have the Third Part of my Rehearsal: In the Fourth I will give your Highness an account of what we were for­ced yet to rub over, before this Marriage was happily compleated; and this may prove as great a Curiosity as any of the rest. I will also tell you in what part of the World my dear Earl had been so rigorously detain'd, or rather in what place so remote he had spent all the time wherein he was suppos'd to be dead, and could not write to any person. In the mean time I beseech you to honour me so far, as to believe it is in obedience to your com­mands that I continue the Relation of such things, which possibly might be more proper­ly omitted: And that I am

THE ADVENTURES AND MEMOIRES OF Henrietta Sylvia Moliere. PART the IV.

I Am at length, Madam, arriv'd to that Part of my Life so long expected, and so fervently desired. The Earl of Englesac gave me a Narrative of all that had befallen him since the time that his Jealousie had snatch'd him away from me; I found nothing in this Relation unworthy a Gentleman, and my Lover. We made those Protestations and Reproaches one to the other which are usual in such Rencounters; and by the diligence of some Friends, whom we were compell'd to acquaint with the Secret, we were married unknown to the Countess of Englesac, and without Ceremony.

What Joy, Madam, was this, if it could have lasted but one day entire? But that had been too great a Happiness; and when this poor Lover thought himself the most conten­ted of men in his Choice, when he believed he had cheated that Fortune, which had so of­ten deceived him, he found he was falling into the most horrid Misfortune, in his opinion, that could happen. I am at a loss how to express my self in this place; that is to say, Madam, that he found himself married to no purpose, and that some of our Enemies had laid a cruel Charm upon us.

How foolish is Mankinde to think them­selves therefore contemptible, because they despise themselves! 'Twas to no purpose to swear to the Earl of Englesac that this Mis­chance did not move me, and it was truth. 'Twas to no purpose to tell him a thousand things, which if I should repeat, would create a good opinion of my Wisdom in those persons, who would honour me so far as to take me at my word. My discourse did not at all perswade him, he had such inward regret, that I could not pity him; yet I could not sometimes forbear breaking out into loud Laughter; and he, sur­mising that his Mother had contributed to his Misfortune, went and acquainted here with the Marriage, which we had so carefully conceal'd from her, not without some Exprobation.

You may well guess, Madam, the rage of [Page 109] this Woman, when she saw her Son rais'd from the dead to afflict her with so great a displeasure: she upbraided him with many injurious expressions, threatned him a thou­sand times; and not satisfied with Words onely, had recourse to Law, as she was ac­customed to do. This new Suit restored me again my Counsellor. He thought this jun­cture to be a very proper time to enhance my estimation of him, and had not forgot my Charms any more than the rest of my Lovers, this accident of the Earl of Englesac's having rouzed up all their Hopes: For the Lady d'Englesac imprudently told it to all the world, and said it was an Effect of Divine Ju­stice.

The Marquiss de Birague was one of the first that came to disturb me: his Wife was at the last gasp, he was in expectation of marrying me very speedily, and took no distaste either at my Slights or Adventures. He left no Stone unturn'd to gain my consent to the dissolution of the Marriage; he still kept in credit with the Lady d'Englesac: He advised them to tempt me with Money; and old Gabrieres, who came from the farthest part of Languedoc to adde to my persecution, prof­fer'd me, on the behalf of the Countess, thirty thousand Livres, if I would by consent put a stop to all proceedings.

There was not one person, nay not so [Page 110] much as Madam de Seville, but what entred into this League against me; who sent to inform me, that she would revoke all the Do­nations she had made me, if I would obsti­nately resolve to,continue the Wife of the Earl of Englesac. I understand well enough what made her discourse me at this rate; she was then the fond Mistriss of the Marquiss de Sainte-Fere, and I was informed that he was of my Enemies Faction.

But all this was nothing in comparison to what I am going to disclose. The Earl of Englesac was sensible of the Menaces of the Lady de Seville, and advised me to do whatever she desired, provided she continued the grant of the Estate she had given me. I am apt to believe that my Interest onely put him up­on this, as he confessed afterward; but I did not acquaint him that I thought this was the motive to his Advice. I accus'd him of coldness in Affection: We were Intrigued one with the other, and met together often in the same place, without so much as looking upon one another. Signac took great notice of it: He had not prosper'd in the designe of being onely in the number of my Friends, and yet became more Amorous than ever to essay what advantage he could make of my Divorce. The Marquiss del Birague dreaded this Rival, and was extreamly jealous at his return.

I will acquaint your Highness with a plea­sant effect thereof. Birague was one day wearied with the company of de Signac more than ordinary: He gave him the Lye in my Chamber upon a very indifferent thing, as de Signac thought, which he himself had newly related: Signac would not charge me with this Injury, and shew'd in that particular his great reverence of me; for it was not want of courage in him. I advertised herewith Mare­schal d'Estre, who lodged near me, and he put a Guard upon them. The Marquiss de Birague could never tell the reason why he gave him the Lye; and I am of opinion, that if Signac had said I had been Beautiful, that Birague would have told him he ly'd.

The Lady d'Englesac heard of this Quar­rel, and made use of it as new matter to scandalize me with. But I had the comfort to be disengaged, at least for some time, of these two importunate Inamorato's: For Bi­rague was sent for three Moneths to Fort-L'Evesque, and I sent for Signac, and prohibi­ted his visiting of me any more, that I might not be expos'd to the Obloquy of the old Countess.

This poor Youth fell sick through Discon­tent, and I could not deny him a Visit, which was worse than his coming to see me. I think that this Demon Birague had some malignant Spirit at his beck; for he understood in [Page 112] Prison that I had visited this sick Gentleman, and acquainted the Countess of Englesac there­with.

Jealousie is a great help against the remis­ness of Lovers: the Earl of Englesac wrote to me to be reconciled, and beg'd my pardon so often in his Epistle, that I could not for my Heart deny it.

But I pretended the contrary; I had a mind to break him of that custom of quarrelling with me; and seem'd to be hardly drawn to it, to make him the wiser hereafter. He took this Counterfeit, for an effect of the progress that de Signac had made in my Affection, and became Jealous to that extremity, that he al­most lost his Reason. He procured persons unknown to look after me; he gain'd my Lacqueys on his side; and caused me at length to be so closely watch'd, that he surprized me in my private Conversation with de Sig­nac in the Labyrinth that is in the Garden of Simples.

Now, Madam, I had a very high esteem for Signac, and took pity of him, because he flattered himself with vain hopes. I conde­scended to this Rendezvouze on purpose to conjure him once for all, to shake off this Pas­sion. No, Signac, said I, I cannot accept of your Courtship, endeavour to overcome it, it makes you unhappy; and you are not so indifferent to me, as that I can be sensible of your prejudice [Page 113] without some discontent. Nay, what would you have me do more? I love the Earl of Englesac: Our little Controversies are almost at an end; and when they cease, our mutual Love will be greater than ever. But Signac interrupted me with these words: Madam, this Earl cannot be hap­py; and the Reconciliation that you discourse of, which would perfect another man's Felicity, will but increase the Despair of your Husband. Have you never looked earnestly in the Face of an en­raged Inamorato, who has his Mistriss in his pow­er, who is affectionately beloved, who might lawfully enjoy her, and yet does not possess her? That which Signac said, strook me with such compassion for the Earl of Englesac, that I could not forbear weeping: and Signac, tur­ning this to his advantage, fell at my Feet, and gave me such convincing arguments, that I knew not how I could possibly oppose them. Permit your self, my lovely Countess, said he, to be moved with my Sighs; amd murder not a mise­rable man, whose Love, and Perseverance in that Passion, merits a kinder Destiny. If the Earl of Englesac could make advantage of your Constan­cy, I would die before I'de contend against it; and you are not ignorant that I once brought him back to you. But, Madam, your Fidelity is fa­tal to him: And whilst you thus suffer me to perish, to preserve your self for him, you put him to a kinde of death no less cruel than that which I daily experiment. Have pity upon us and your [Page 114] self; you are not sensible what a dreadful mis­hap 'tis for a beautiful Woman to have a Hus­band, who has just cause to have an ill opinion of him. You are going to make your self the most unfortunate of Women, and that drives me into de­spair. I repli'd, with Tears in my Eyes; No mat­ter, I cannot suffer too much, in acknowledging the Love that poor Earl hath ever shewn me. I will love him as long as I breathe, come what will on't; and I should be too happy to spend my days with him, in any condition whatsoever that can befal us. The Earl of Englesac, who through a Palisado heard the whole Discourse, was so moved at it, that he had not power to con­ceal himself any longer. He came and threw himself at my Feet, and surpriz'd us so strange­ly with his sight, that Signac cried out, and I was ready to fall into a Swoon. Be not dis­may'd, said the Earl to his Rival, I come not to upbraid thee with thy endeavours to seduce her, thou deservest her better than I; I am a miserable wretch that have nothing to do but to die: And he had almost died indeed at the uttering of these last words; yet casting his Eyes upon me with a most pitiful look; No, my dear Syl­via, said he, for so he always called me, I will not abuse thy Constancy, that would render thee unhappy. Marry Signac, I freely consent to it; nay, I do more than barely give my assent, I beg of thee to do it. And after this wish he de­parted half desperate; went out of the Gar­den, [Page 115] and rode Post to Flanders, whither the Army then began to march.

Signac hoped to succeed by this his depar­ture, and the consent he gave in favour of him; but he came far short of his expecta­tion. I upbraided him a thousand times as the cause that my Husband forsook me, and ac­cus'd him only for this my Misfortune: I vow'd that I would hate him worse than death it self, if he did not restore me the Earl of Englesac. Consider, Madam, if you please, what Character his Love to me deserv'd. He followed the Earl the same Road, and I have been certainly informed since, that he did his utmost endeavour to procure his Return. But I have been too long serious, I must, to diver­sifie this History, and to refresh you in some measure, since that I have in all probability afflicted you, give your Highness a relation of my Counsellors Deportment to ingratiate himself into my favour.

He was my daily Visitant; I was obliged to be somewhat Complaisant; for if these Gentlemen be coursely used, 'tis in vain to go to Law. He came one day to tell me, that he knew an excellent way to overthrow my Adversaries, and enrage the Countess of Englesac. I did really believe that he had found out some trick in Law to my advan­tage. But excuse me, Madam, that was not the business, he onely endeavoured to per­swade [Page 116] me, that a brisk subtile Woman never dies without an Heir: What do you think of such advice in Law? I durst not be of­fended at it; for that had been to take it in earnest; besides, I had other businesses of con­cernment to consider of.

This cunning Woman the Lady d' Engle­sac had disengaged me from a young Gentle­man whose Name was the Marquiss de Vilars, whose Mother, as I was inform'd, she was in­timately acquainted with, and he was one of the handsomest Court-Gallants. They intreated him to court me, hoping, as I con­ceive, that he might win my Heart; and af­ter he had wrought upon me so far as to dis­close the Marriage, then he should desert me, when Husbandless, and expose me thereby to the Scoffs of all the World. But it fell out otherwise. This amiable young Gentleman fell in Love with me in earnest, and disclos'd all the designes of the Lady d'Englesac, which still make me tremble at the very thoughts of them. Poor Youth, this freedom of his, one would think, should have sav'd him from that Musquet-shot that gave him his mortal Wound at Dandremonde. Then they would by force have put me again into the Convent at A­vignon, where I formerly secured my self. Ma­dam de Vandosme, whose goodness they had prevaricated by their fram'd discourses of me, was to countenance this designe before [Page 117] the Cardinal de Vandosme; and probably had done it, if she could have found me out; for the zeal of all good souls is impetuous. I was never more disquieted and disturbed to know how I should dispose of my self: every thing I heard I fancied to be a Coach to take me away by force; and I was in a House where I often met with such kinde of frights; for 'twas in the Dutch House. Monsieur the Abbot of Villeserin lodged over against me, and the Assembly des beaux Esprits, or of the Virtuosi (which conven'd afterward at his Appartment) was then designing. I saw none but men of a morose aspect stand at his Door, and pass by the Street I lodged in; and I took them for so many Messengers from the Lady Divota's or Nuns.

Not daring to venture my self any longer at Paris, I committed the care and manage­ment of my Law-business to an able Practi­tioner, and without any other Attendant but Merinvil, I went in quest of the Earl of En­glesac, that he might protect me from his Mothers Attempts. But, Madam, to what dangers do we not expose our selves, when we thus ramble in the wide world? passing through the Forrest de Senlis, the Hackney-Sedan, which I had hired at Blavet, broke, and I was left sitting at the root of a Tree, till they went to a Village neer at hand to fetch some Workmen to mend it: they tar­ried [Page 118] so long, that I grew very impatient, and sent Merinvil to meet them and hasten their return: I was no sooner left alone, but a Ca­valier passing by at a small distance from me, after some loud exclamations dismounted, and accosted me. He was, as far as I could learn by his discourse, one that declared him­self to be the natural Son of the King of Por­tugal, commonly known by the name of the Portugal-Prince, and who under that name had seen all the Courts in Europe.

He pretended that the very self-same Pro­phetess Voisin, who before that made me fear my Marriage with Birague, had shew'd him in a Glass of Water a person that resembled me, and had foretold many great mischiefs that should befal him if he did not gain her Affection. I laugh'd heartily, whilst dis­coursed me at this rate, and did also tell him many horrid Predictions; but this was no repulse to him; for he said they were mark'd out by La Voisin. I was forced to answer him as I did, and for the same reason he ought to attempt his Enterprizes in places more remote; which he had done, if the Mar­quiss de Sainte-Fere, who went to joyn with the Army, had not by accident taken this Road. He did not think he did me so great a kindness as in truth he did: nay, on the contrary, seeing that I was somewhat moved, and finding me alone in a Forest with a per­son [Page 119] tolerably handsome, he thought he had done an ill office by this his interruption, and excused himself very maliciously. I could not perswade him he laboured under a Mi­stake; but a Coach came running by, where­in I spied the Marchioness of Sevil: She called to the Coachman to bid him hold; and leaping down out of the Coach, gave the Marquiss de Sainte-Fere many Amorous Re­proofs: he returned her a nimble and civil Answer: But finding the more he attempted to satisfie the Marchioness with Reason, the more she was irritated, he betook himself to flight, and the Lady de Seville with very grief remained in my Arms almost senseless.

According to what I could observe by their Discourse, Sainte-Fere did onely pretend Love to the Marchioness of Sevil, during the in­terval of his falling out with another Mistriss. But this Quarrel was over, as there are few durable between persons whose Affections are real; and the Lady de Seville, finding her self deprived of a Lover, pursued him every where to blame him for this Infidelity. I ad­ministred the best Comforts I could to her, and she knew them to be so cordial, that she forgot all the Differences which had formerly been between us, and promised not to aban­don me till she had once more put me into the hands of the Earl of Englesac.

As for our Portugueze, I knew not what [Page 120] became of him, I suppose he fear'd some pu­nishment would be inflicted upon him for his Boldness, when he saw that he was taken no­tice of by a Cavalier in appearance, and a Lady with a splendid Equipage. I diverted the Marchioness from her sorrow, by the re­lating of this Adventure; and when Merinvil was come to us, we went together in the way to Mesnes. The Queen was there at that time, and the King came to visit her with a Retinue of several Voluntiers, persons of Qua­lity; among whom I discovered Signac im­mediately. He was ready to dye, being ex­tasied with Joy at the sight of me; and do you but judge whether 'twas without rea­son? He lov'd me still, and brought with him a Letter from the Earl of Englesac; by the Contents thereof he was so far from com­ing to see me, as Signac assured me he did in­treat him to do, that he re-conjured me de novo to marry his Rival.

Compleat the happiness of that person whom I love above all the World, (these were the words of his Letter, speaking to me) and permit me to contribute to his good Fortune by my assent, since I cannot do it otherwise. I desire this your compliance as the last proof of your Love.

This poof Earl did greatly comply with me, when he wrote to me in these terms: But [Page 121] no person is prudent whilst a Lover; I did not construe his Letter in that sense: I cannot express how much his obstinate refu­sal to yield to me did enrage me. The King returned at the head of his Troops; and 'tis pity that this ensuing Relation is not penn'd by a Souldier that understands Military Af­fairs; then your Highness would meet with many brave examples of Valour, and deserved Elogies of our August Monarque. We fol­lowed the Queen, who came to be an Eye-wit­ness of his Conquests; and I gain'd a Lover who did divertise us extreamly by his way of Courtship. I had hitherto met with none but submissive Courtiers: and I used fre­quently to say in the height of my Gayety, that for the rarity of the thing, I would wil­lingly, once in my Life-time, meet with a proud and scornful Lover.

He, that I am now speaking of, was the onely man fit to give me this satisfaction. You would have said that he was going to the Slaughter when he came into my Cham­ber: he had nothing but terms of War in his mouth, and would discover his designes with such an opinionative conceit of his own de­sert, that I was ready to die with laughing. He seem'd to be displeased once or twice at my extraordinary Mirth; but I told him 'twas my natural Temper, and he must take it patiently.

The mean while Signac continued his ur­gent Sollicitations. Doway was the besieged, and there the Marchioness of Sevil lost her Sainte-Fere, which she mourned for excessive­y, though without reason. Signac did Won­ders at this Siege, and yet could not forbear stealing away from time to time to visit me at Tournay, where we were, and where he courted me with the greatest tenderness of Affection. The Marchioness was moved with it; and if I may declare all my thoughts to you, Madam, I was also very much concerned. Adde to this, that I heard not a word of the Earl of Englesac; he left the Camp as soon as he catch'd the news of my Arrival, not ha­ving the courage, as I am apt to believe, to come into my presence; for he always thought he had rendred me a most unhappy woman, notwithstanding my Oaths that I made to him to the contrary. The Marchioness did continu­ally round me in the Ear, that the Earl of Englesac did fly me, and that Signac held me dearer than his Life. In fine, Madam, I know not what had been the Issue of it, if the Earl had not returned absolutely transported, to tell me that the Charm had no more power o­ver him.

He resolved to withdraw himself near your Highness; and in his way thither he met with a Jew, who undertook to cure him, and was as good as his word. I did never give [Page 123] credit to these Superstitions; but Experience is a great Mistriss.

This return of Englesac's Health and per­son gave a mortal Wound to poor Signac; I never saw him afterward, and I doubt not but his despair did precipitate him into those perils and dangers that occasioned his Fall at the Siege of the Island.

I wept very tenderly for this generous Youth; it was the least I could do in ac­knowledgement of the great Love and Re­spect he had for me. But my Brave or Gal­lant did not forbear comforting of me: he proffered himself, according to his usual cu­stome, to supply alone the place of all my Lo­vers. I was not in the humour to listen to his prating, nor to laugh at him as I did at first. I told him seriously, I desired he would leave me at rest, and perceiv'd that now was the time come wherein I should make a rude trial of his Gallantry. He did honour me no longer with his daily Visits; and his stomach­fulness freed me from him, as the end of the Campaigne did from following the Army. And, Madam, I could not force the Earl of Englesac from it; for he would assist [...] the Rout of General Marcin before I could en­gage him to come to Paris. The Marchioness led us back thither, and I shall bring with me some visible marks that the Jew had unchar­med him.

This circumstance of my Return had al­most killed the Countess of Englesac with Rage. She did her most dreadful Efforts to perswade her Son that the Child I went with was not his. She had heard of nay Ren­counter with the Portugal Prince: She told it again to her Son, as Sainte-Fere apprehended it, and questionless had so published it. I am of opinion that she made this Free-booter follow me to the Army, where possibly he ne­ver had been before in all his life; and I know not also if they did not make me disannoy some of the principal persons in Bionac.

I must give this testimony of the Marquiss de Birague, that he did not second the Coun­tess of Englesac in her designes of ruining me, as he did in that of vacating my Marri­age. For he defended my Vertue against all that assaulted it: but he laboured in vain, for Detraction had taken its course.

I know not whether these false Rumours did cool his Affection, or whether the Mar­riage onely caused this change; but he took disgust, as 'tis customary; and since that I was grown less acceptable to him, he was much taken with many other Women.

The Marchioness of Sevil was the first that took notice of it, and to make me observe it too. She was a woman always wanted some Intrigues or other to busie her self withal, and it may be by chance, finding her heart [Page 125] destitute of any of her own, she employed her self to disentangle the Earl of Engle­sac.

He gave me not so much as a Visit, but she knew it; he intended no designe of Gallan­try, but she was advertised thereof, and of which she gave me an account. I made a pleasant use of her advice; and if I durst ac­quaint your Highness with it, you would finde it full of divertisement, but at the same time you would count me very foolish. No matter, I must leave you to guess what I have not the Confidence to tell you.

One day I disappointed the Earl of Engle­sac of his designe, more out of sport, to try whether he would know me again, than for any other reason. He had so little know­ledge of me, that he presented me with a Bodkin studded with Diamonds, thinking, that I had been his Mistriss; and the next day I wore it. Poor man! he never understood so much before, that he was not the onely Hus­band of his Wife; for he had promised one of his Friends a share in his good Fortune: and it was the greatest happiness in the world, that this Gentleman never found me after where the Earl of Englesac sent him: For he might probably deceive me, having the Watch-word, and it was Night-time. Good God! when I think of it, how disquieted was my Husband, and what pleasure did his Friend [Page 126] do him, when by accusing him that he had broke his word with him, he told him that the Influence was turned quite another way? Do not you stand in admiration to think of the Phrensie of Husbands that are Jealous of what they so highly despise?

But this was not all; the Marchioness of Sevil gave me to understand of a Meeting ap­pointed by the Earl of Englesac at la Place Royale, with a Lady, whose Merit and course of Life I was not unacquainted with. She was one of the high Court-Ladies, who, without receiving any thing considerable, rui­nate a Lover in down-right Expences. I was told that one day, she having acquainted one of her Lovers that she had a fancy for some Flame-colour'd Ribbon, to appear with at a Masquerade at the Louvre; He was so great a Fop as to send to London for some to please her. She would not by any means accept of it without returning him the Money it cost: but it cost the Gentleman twenty Pistols to pro­cure it; and this was so inconsiderable a thing, that she scorned to take notice of it.

This Consideration, or, if you please, small Jealousie (for I was not free from it) made me endeavour to discover this Meeting. I made use of a Stratagem to detain the Earl of Englesac longer than he intended at the house where he supp'd: And coming to the Ren­dezvouze [Page 127] at the hour appointed, I gave them the Signal which I knew he was to make, and so the Door was opened to me. The old man St. Canal, who went along with me by my order, did me good service herein: The shape of a Man deceived the Chamber-maid that was to let in the Earl; and when St. Ca­nal was got within the Door, he laid fast hold of it, and so I had the opportunity to enter. But, Madam, you may here finde a most plea­sant Circumstance in this Story. The Cham­ber-maid had received no orders from her Mistriss to do what she did. The Earl of En­glesac was permitted to have admittance, and perhaps stood somewhat in her favour; but he was not as yet in a capacity of obtaining a grant for a Night-meeting. He was intro­duced without a Pass-port; and he had some hope, upon the account of his Merit and Love, when he should come to be in private with the Lady, that he should not onely make his own, but the Maid's peace also.

This produced two pleasant Effects. The first, That the waiting Gentlewoman was so possessed with fear, that I came to her Mi­striss's Bed-side before she could cry out.

The second, That understanding the La­dy's Innocence and my own Errour, I found my Rival so handsome, that we ever after linked our selves in a most perfect Tye of Friendship. I told her, with a smile, that I [Page 128] forgave the Earl of Englesac's Infidelity which she was the cause of. She replied with much Gallantry, that she would not pardon him. What shall I say, Madam? we had the most rare and agreeable Conversation imagina­ble.

I was not the onely Night-walker at that time; for I found under the Porch of la Place Royale a man, who without doubt waited up­on some good success in his Amours; and it was, as I gathered by his Discourse, the young Prince de Salmes, whose Name I had formerly taken upon me, and who had since that, by his vanity, disturbed the Earl of En­glesac and my self. He knew me, assoon as I spake, not to be the person he expected; but however I seemed handsome enough to supply her place. He desired me to take a turn or two with him in the Gallery; to which I consented. I had had a longing desire, for some time past, to meet with this Prince, and to upbraid him with what he had said of me. And this Adventure I ordered to my pur­pose; and without discovering my self, I de­manded the particulars of him: I did ex­pect at least that he would be at a loss, and to seek for an Answer. But, Madam, to what are poor Females exposed? my German-Prince told me such Circumstances of my In­trigue with him, which had almost wrought upon me to believe them, they carried so much [Page 129] probability along with them. I was like to have been very loud with him, and had been so, beyond dispute, if the Duke de Richelieu, who came from the Mareschal d'Albret, had not interrupted us; and his Servants carry­ing Flambeaux before him, the Prince de Salmes durst not, as I presume, be seen thus without any Retinue; and I should not have been much pleased to be found alone with him, so we departed hastily without Ceremo­ny.

I know not whether what I had told him of my self had made him remember my Name, or that he onely came to my House by mere accident: but he did come some few days after with the Earl of Englesac to dine with me; they met together at the Grand Prior's house, and the Earl of Englesac loved dearly to treat his Friends nobly. He did not know me again to be the Lady which he en­tertained in discourse at the Place Royale. I gave him the relation as if I had received it from other hands, and asked what he thought of it. I put him in a great perplexity; and he had divertised me a long time, if the Earl of Englesac, who was almost grown desperate for the trick I had put upon him, had not told the Prince that I my self was the person I discoursed of. The Prince de Salmes with­out doubt remembred some other things he had discoursed to me; I found he blush'd, [Page 130] and I apprehended him by the confusion he was in, to be more bashful than scrupulous. This had been a sufficient Intrigue with him, if Fortune would have committed the Ma­nagement of it to me; but she did not at all advise with me thereupon. I believe this Prince would endeavour to speak truth, if he should boast of any Intrigue with me, for the future. From that day his Discourses were very passionate; and some others afterward, finding me in a Balcony of Madam de Montau­sier at St. Germains, where I was placed to see the Russian Embassador go by; and he told me in an Amorous way, that I was the most Beautiful Lady of all the Court. He did am­plifie his Discourse with many Circumstan­ces; nay I must needs be very handsome that day; for the Earl of Englesac took notice, and told me of it also. Furthermore he shew'd me to the Marquiss de Castelan, Major of the Regiment of Guards, that was walking with him in the Court; and by this little Trans­port he added to the number of my Impor­tunate Suiters, by whom, as it is registred in Heaven, I shall be oppressed as long as I live.

For, Madam, this Marquiss fell in love with me; and to compleat my Anxiety, the Mar­chioness of Sevil grew Amorous of him.

And thus I came to learn it: The Marchi­oness's Love was altogether fictitious; and [Page 131] never had any other Woman so many In­trigues, and so few extricated. She sent eve­ry morning either Verses or Notes to Castelan, though he knew not from whence these Gal­lantries were. Castelan did somewhat depend upon the success of his Amours; but some Ladies had baulk'd him upon that account. He let one of his Notes fall in my Chamber, and did what in him lay to perswade me, af­ter his way, that it was a Favour received from some considerable Lady. I knew the Hand upon sight, and laugh'd heartily at the vanity of this Cavalier. The Marchioness came in while I was laughing, and under­stood the occasion of my Raillery, though much against my will.

But this was not the greatest mischance that I received by this vanity of his. The Marchioness had ordered a rich Scarf to be made, and took her time to send it to Caste­lan, on a certain day when the King had ap­pointed a general Muster to be made, for the entertainment of the Prince of Florence, who was then at the Court Incognito. She em­ployed one of my Servants to carry this Pre­sent; and though they had disguised him as a Courier that came from remote parts, Castelan knew him again. He unfolds the Scarf, ad­mires, and shews it to all that had a minde to see it: There were persons there who were so malicious as to say, that he made himself [Page 132] that Present. He endeavoured to prove the contrary, and could not tell how to do it well, but by naming me; I was amazed to finde my self in Veau-de-ville with Castelan. I can­not tell you, Madam, how many troubles this whimsie brought upon me. Two or three Ladies, who deserved to bear a part herein more than my self, thinking that I was their Rivaless, did grosly abuse me. This came to the Ears of the Earl of Englesac, and he was apt to believe them: his Language was sharp to me; and if the Lady of la Place Royale had not made it her business to appease him, I had been in danger to lose him for ever.

But this was not all, he had a private grudge within himself, because that I was so much in favour with the person he loved. Perhaps he thought that our friendship would obstruct the prosecution of his Affairs, and I saw that it was time for me to go and intreat that La­dy to be more tractable, to make the Earl of Englesac in a better humour.

The Marchioness of Sevil helped to com­pleat my Vexation: She thought at that time to have done me a piece of Service, in di­vulging to the world that 'twas she that sent the Scarf to Castelan. He would not believe it, because he thought not the Lady, as I be­lieve, young enough to do him any kindness by her Present. She made me bear the bur­then of that Contempt. We wrangled again [Page 133] afresh; and the Earl of Englesac, who obser­ving the maxime of distracted Husbands, fell out about every thing, wished me ill, because the Marchioness complained of me.

This Misfortune was attended by another far more grievous, and the Consequences thereof have been more tedious. The Prince de Salmes continued his Amours to me, and was wearied to finde no other effect of his Love, but a freedom of visiting me. He un­bosom'd himself of this perplexity to I know not what Woman, whose Name I have for­got; and if I should remember it, I know not whether I may be so bold as to acquaint your Highness therewith. This Woman droll'd with him because he had made no farther pro­gress; and assured him that she knew a shor­ter way for him to the Conquest of my Heart. I know not withal, whether she did not tell him that it was no untrod-Path, and that by his Conduct some Lovers had already followed him. The German Prince believed her, and promised her vast sums of Money, if she could seduce me. She pretended to en­deavour it very earnestly; and moving me sometimes to Cruelty, and sometimes to Con­descention, she made me, in fine, resolve to subscribe to whatever the Prince de Salmes could desire. I had engaged my word, and upon my Lady's request, I know not how, I was discharged of that Obligation. Do you [Page 134] not startle, Madam, at this piece of Impu­dence, or at least to hear it from the Mouth of the person to whom this hapned? Can you believe it to be probable?

I know not what course they took to deceive the Prince de Salmes, whether the darkness onely contributed thereunto, or that they ap­plied themselves to Magique; but he was so neatly cheated by a Bracelet which he thought he had bestowed upon me, that he was also perswaded he had the entire fruition of his Desires. This Mistake put him upon the spur to be familiar with me; he did make use of his Priviledge; and the first day he found me alone, he lost himself, in my opi­nion, by his private Caresses. I leave it to your Highness to think with your self how much I was surprized herewith; I who had always found him the most respective man in the world, and had done nothing to divert him from it.

I asked him if he had dined in the City, and thought I had been favourable in accu­sing him onely of taking a Cup too much. He broke out into a great laughter; but ob­serve what reason he had for it: I had at that time on my Wrist the same Bracelet which he thought he had given me: The person that received it had more need of Money than Precious Stones: She gave it to a Woman-Huckster, who by chance brought [Page 135] it to me, and profered it me at so low a rate, that I could not refuse the Purchase. Do but frame to your self in your minde, Madam, the Personages that we represented: the more the Prince de Salmes laugh'd, the more I was offended: He looked upon my Anger as counterfeit; hard words passed between us: and without allowing him time to explain himself better, I forbad him my house.

You may judge, that a happy Lover who sees himself thus used, would think he was not obliged to be discreet. The Prince de Salmes published the Adventure as he thought convenient; and by this means it came to the Ears of the Earl of Englesac: I cannot de­scribe to you, Madam, his great Commotion. He reproached me very outrageously, and without lending an Ear to any Justification, he made a vow never to set eye on me more, and retired to his Mother's. I ran about to seek the Prince de Salmes, and said all that a just Resentment could move one to: He knew not what to answer; but at last gave me an account of the false Game they had play'd with us. I undeceived him, and doubted not but the Traytress that had put this vile trick upon me, would her self confess the truth hereof: for the Prince de Salmes divulged it with all the signes of true remorse for the Mischiefs he had brought upon me. Yet his Discourse and Penitence was unprofitable: [Page 136] the Earl of Englesac gave no credit to them but contrarily, fancied with himself, that had purchased the Attestation of the Prince de Salmes by the grant of some new Favours and being stir'd up daily more and more against me, he set his Hand to the rupture o [...] the Marriage.

Then they took up the Cause again de novo the Countess of Englesac, who depended up­on the disgust of her Son, letting the business lie dormant for some time, till there was a better opportunity to prosecute it. The Ear [...] of Englesac was not of Age when I was espou­sed by him; besides, this Marriage was no [...] made with all the Forms and Circumstances requisite thereunto. Is not here a fine Re­turn to so violent a Passion? and are not Wo­men foolish to love in this manner?

I used my utmost endeavour to come to the sight of the Farl of Englesac, and to make the last Essay whether my power over him were so great as formerly: but he shun'd me carefully, and that cruelty made me despair.

I walked one day musing, with great Anxie­ty of minde, in the Garden of Luxemburg▪ A person of Quality, whose Name I will con­ceal, because his Repentance has purchased that respect since, came and sate down on the Bank where I was reposed.

We did discourse indifferently on the Beau­ty of young Madam Stoup, and Madam de la [Page 137] Mailleraye, formerly Ladies of Honour to Ma­ [...]am the Princess of Carignan, who were walk­ [...]ng in the same Ally with us. The man I [...]eak of liked my Conversation, and told me [...]fter we had had some discourses concerning the various Charms of brown and fair Com­plexions, that the cause first would be best managed by my Discourse.

I was out of humour to make a return to his Gallantry, but I found that this man did relate to the Law; and in that condition I was then, I had need of the assistance of all per­sons. We had an entertainment long and In­genious enough. He begged the freedom of visiting me, and I granted it, for the very sam [...] reason that obliged me to enter into discour [...] with him.

I know not whether my free and jovia [...] way of behaviour gave him such hopes as never thought of; or whether 'twas his cu­stom rashly to lay hold of them; but he had not often repeated his Visits e're he gave me to understand his fatal Intentions.

I made him so sensible of my Displeasure, that there was no way for him but to renounce his Courtship. Yet this wrought not upon him, and brought his Enterprize to that height as to leave a Purse of Gold upon my Carpet. I sent it to him again, and took such strict or­der with my Attendants, that let him come when he would, he should never see me more.

He was transported with anger at this: divulged the circumstances and accident of the Purse, without so much as mentioning the Restitution. This calumny drew upon me two or three other vexatious Propositions, which Madam d'Englesac knew, and she fail'd not to extract malicious Consequences from them. But let her pass; I was accustomed to her Injustice: Her Son began to believe her, and was as much bent upon my ruine as his Mother.

Then the Suit recommenced with a match­less heat; the Lady d'Englesac took up again the Informations that she had formerly exhi­bited against me, and pretended to prove thereby, that the Childe I had, but since dead, was not the Earl of Englesac's.

The Marquiss de Birague did greatly op­pose this Article: He would willingly have had me unmarried; for his Wife was dead, and he still had an intention to espouse me; but he would have Madam d'Englesac to lay her foundation upon the want of due form in pro­ceedings at Law, and not upon Immoralities. This perseverance of his to maintain my Re­putation, did touch me somewhat nearly; and though his Generosity was Interessed, yet we did reconcile our selves. The Marchioness of Sevil came also to afford me her assistance; she was easily offended, but of an admirable temper naturally, and proposed very comfor­table [Page 139] things to me, if it were my misfortune to be overthrown at Law.

But I relished nothing of all this; The Slights of the Earl of Englesac, which were visible in his Countenance, and not in his Flight onely, as usually, did cast me into De­spair.

Why do you go to Law with me? said I to him one day before one of our Judges where we met together. Have you not always been the Master of my Destiny? Heretofore 'twas your desire that I should spend my days in cohabitating with you; you had my consent, and not without a sufficient proof, whether this desire were sincere or otherwise: but now you will dissolve this Ʋnion: Well, well! I agree to it; I onely desired your Heart, and since I have no share in it now, all the rest signifies nothing to me. But be pleased to consider this difference with my Love. Answer me to this particular: I demand of thee the Li­berty which the Bonds of Matrimony have de­prived me of. Return it me, and I will receive it at thy hands as a token of thy Passion. Ingrateful man! upon this consideration I will signe whatever thou canst desire. Come, make use of thy Autho­rity, and nothing shall be impossible; but borrow not that of Justice: for rather than yield thee up to any other person but thy self, I will contend as long as I live.

The Earl of Englesac returned no other Answer to this Discourse but disdainful looks; [Page 140] and thinking to do me a kindness by not re­proaching me with my Unfaithfulness, as he calls it, he did it more cruelly by his Silence, than the most contumelious Language.

I know not whether the Lady d'Englesac fear'd that I should stir up pity in the Judges or no; for, Madam, my Discourse moved them with a true Compassion; or whether she had onely a minde to leave Paris: but she in­stigated one of the Heirs of Monsieur de Mo­liere deceas'd, with whom there was as yet some Controversie about the Money of Mon­sieur de Candale, who espoused her Quarrel, and who under the pretext of an Employ­ment that required his presence at Tholouse, petitioned that he might return to that Par­liament.

I opposed this designe very-strenuously, and knew that Monsieur the President of— and many other Presidents or Advocates in the Parliament of Tholouse, were the Relations of Madam d'Englesac, and made withal so lively a representation of the Injury she in­tended me, being I could not continue at Pa­ris, from whence by her Law-quirks she had found means to drive me: I obtained an Evo­cation, or Habeas Corpus, to remove my Cause from the Parliament (or Court of Judicature) at Grenoble.

My Lover that left the Purse behinde him, was very serviceable to me in this Rencountre; [Page 141] he had a true regret for what was pass'd, and endeavour'd a reparation to the utmost of his ability: nay, I am apt to believe, that this Repentance contributed to his submissive Re­treat a little after; for he was ever disconso­late for blasting my Reputation.

He wrote Letters of Recommendation (which he gave me) to Monsieur de la Ber­chere chief President of Grenoble, and some o­ther of his Friends: But before we come to this City, I must, with your leave, detain your Highness a little while at Bourbon, where I made some small stay; for my internal grief had brought me into such a languishing con­dition, that I judged it convenient to make use of this Remedy.

That year the Company was extraordina­ry; Madam de Fontevrauld, the worthy Daugh­ter of Henry the Great, Monsieur the Mares­chal de la Ferté, Monsieur and his Lady de Sul­ly, Madam de Guitault, the Lady Marchioness de la Trousse, and many other persons both French and Strangers that came to the Bath and to drink the Waters: Onely one Swede seemed to me to come thither for Diversion more than Necessity.

He was called Wakmester, a Swedish Title, which went for his proper Name among us. He spake the French indifferently, and had ta­ken his Lodgings at the same House I made choice of. We soon associated together; [Page 142] and discovered our Sentiments mutually con­cerning the distempered persons at Bourbon, and devoted our selves to innocent Raillery, without any manner of detraction.

I guess'd that my Company was acceptable to the Stranger; nor was I alone of that opi­nion, as your Highness shall soon understand.

I was coming back one day from the Priory of St. George near Bourbon, where I made one of the number that went to hear an excellent Voice; and in the descent of a Valley, which bounded upon the Street near the Baths, a Page of Wakmester's came to throw himself at my Feet; but I betook my self to my heels: for this Youth, though very hand­some, did seem to me at that time to have an ill-boding look; and Madam de la Trousse, who was then with me, did with much In­treaty prevail with me, at the importunity of the Page, to give him a hearing.

I never heard any thing so perswasive as the discourse of this Page: it was a German-Gentlewoman of Quality that Wakmester had deluded, who hid her self under this disguise; and believing that I was become her Rivaless, did conjure me, with a thousand Sighs, to kill her, or permit her to enjoy her Lover.

I did extreamly pity the misfortune of this Girl, and reproved Wakmester for it very se­verely; because that he first snatched her from the Arms of her Parents, and then dealt in­gratefully [Page 143] with her. He yielded to my Re­monstrances, and did sincerely reconcile him­self to his Mistriss. O how I envied their Happiness! and how infinitely should I have been obliged to any person that should have done me the like civil office with the Earl of Englesac.

From that time this Page of Wakmester and I became inseparable, and Wakmester from her. This produced two pleasant Effects. A Lady of Provence, whose Name I don't re­member, fell in Love with the Page, believing him to be what he seemed: And an Earl of Piemont, whose Name may be as well con­cealed, became my Inamorato. He looked upon Wakmester as his Rival: and the Page's Sweet-heart believed me her Rivaless. The Piemontoise endeavoured to win the Page to be as a Spy, and watch all our Actions: and the Provensal-Lady strove to gain the Heart of Wakmester, to make him ostruct the Intrigue of which she suspected me the Authoress.

He did but smile at the discourse of this foolish Woman; but the hot pursuit of the Page by the Piemontoise did displease him. They quarrelled, and fought; and they ho­noured me so far, as to make Proclamation that it was for my sake.

This false report made me hate Bourbon: I took my leave of the Ladies de Guitault, de la Trousse, and some other considerable persons, [Page 144] with whom I had contracted friendship, and so departed, followed onely by Merinvil for Grenoble, where my Suit at Law required my attendance, and there I found I was out-stript by the news of the Duel upon my account.

Madam d'Englesac made use thereof, accor­ding to her custome, and her Son from hence drew new matter to increase his ill will to­wards me. We met one another every where at la Grenette, la Saulsave, at our entrance in­to the Court; for there is a greater Opportu­nity of meeting at Grenoble, than at Paris. The Earl of Englesac carried himself as strange­ly as if he had never seen my Face. I thought I should immediately die with grief to finde such a change in him, and I courted him with Language that might have moved a Tyger, if he had understood it. But at last I left off dally­ing any longer with so stupid a person, and pre­tended, when it came to my turn, to be ab­solutely disengaged of my Passion for him. This dissimulation mollified him; we associa­ted our selves with some honest persons, who began to understand one another, and dis­coursed of our common affairs as of that of a third person. Honour obliged me to main­tain my Marriage; and I told him (though for all that it was not true) that he had done me a kindness in endeavouring to null the Marriage; that his temper and mine were incompatible; and that persons in their wits [Page 145] ought to separate themselves after this man­ner, when they grow weary of one another.

You would have laugh'd extreamly, Ma­dam, if you had been a Witness of our En­tertainment. I did one day betray my self, and the Earl of Englesac advised me like a person altogether disinteressed, that to avoid a Relapse in Love, I should bestow my heart on some other person; that he knew I could not easily efface his Idea out of my minde without the help of another; and did inge­nuously declare who of my Acquaintance he looked upon as the most probable persons to be beloved by me. This Conversation had some­what in it very singular: I argued with the Earl of Englesac about those persons he pro­posed to me; the one seemed too Luke-warm, the other too Fiery; the one had not the way of pleasing me, and I was afraid of the Inconstancy of some others. I was in hope hereby to make him apprehend, that he was the onely man did suit with my Temper; but he would not understand me, or else was deaf to my discourse.

I took upon me again my counterfeit Indif­ference, and gave him advice for advice, though like an enraged Woman. He had been surprized with two or three Passions that I was ashamed of, if these kinde of Engage­ments deserve the name of Passion. I told him he must finde me out more Illustrious Ri­valesses, [Page 146] and he proposed some: To which I replied, Fix upon Madam—she is beautiful enough to please you, a witty Woman; and if she would engage her self in Love, I fancy it would be to excess. And this is such a Mistriss as you desire.

The Earl of Englesac accepted this advice: The Lady I mentioned was of Grenoble: he made it his business to court her; and to the end that my disdainfulness might not conti­nue, the Bishop of Valence's Nephew, who came to Grenoble to dispatch some business, did undertake to make me blot the Earl of En­glesac quite out of my remembrance: He had then done me a very considerable kindness, if he could have effected it; and I consented willingly that he should attempt it. I protest, that the discourse of this Youth, who was otherwise a very deserving person, did prove a relaxation to my grief and trouble. For, Madam, notwithstanding the Enterviews of the Earl of Englesac and my self, our Suit at Law did not cease; and sometimes, when we parted from one another civilly, we went to be informed what was done in our business. I was told that the Abbot de Montreüil, who possibly had heard of my affairs by my Lover of Dauphiné, made fine stories of our being thus at Law: And the fair Lady de la Mothe was often divertis'd at Valence with the Come­dy that I acted at Grenoble.

She began also to afford me some Diver­sion: I had banished Love far enough from me; and there is no Heart so constant, but that an obstinate contempt may force it to declare its Passion. And to conceal nothing from your Highness, the Earl of Englesac was very indifferent to me.

I know not whether he perceived it, and according to the ordinary Maxims of men, whether he was sensible of my loss, when he believed it to be certain: But he interrupted me when he found me talking with the Ne­phew of the Bishop of Valence.

These little rudenesses did divertise me sufficiently: The Cavalier, upon whose ac­count they were, observed them; and telling me with great freedom, that he was resolved to serve me at his own peril, he omitted no­thing that might make the Earl of Englesac jealous.

And he proceeded successfully; for one day the Earl of Englesac asked me, with a dejected Countenance, if I had made choice of this person for my Lover. To which I returned, I know not, he is deserving, and does not displease me: but I am resolved for the fu­ture to use my Lover as I do my Domesticks; that is, to change them often, till I finde one that plea­ses me. Then, said the Earl of Englesac, you designe to turn a waggish Gossip? Why not, re­plied I, 'tis the best way of loving for Ladies. [Page 148] Ha! Sylvia, pursued the Earl, either you are very much altered, or you will never love at this rate.

The word Sylvia I looked upon as a good Omen, and had hopes to be revenged of him for his slighting of me: For, Madam, I durst have sworn at that very instant, that if the Earl of Englesac had renewed his Affection, I had rendred him the most unfortunate Man that ever was in love. I had in my minde already several Idea's of Cruelty; yet by this motive I believed that I had still a desire to please him; but, Good God! how little do we know our selves?

One day I was in the Garden of Monsieur the Duke de Lesdiguieres Governour of Dau­phiné, where there was a great concourse of people; for all persons of Quality are wel­come to that Promenade, and the Earl of En­glesac was present also. I shall think of that day as long as I live: I was as gay then as I us'd to be before my Misfortunes; I laugh'd, was frolickish, and talked very merrily. The Earl of Englesac accosted me, and hit me in the Teeth with my Pleasantness, as a thing mis­becoming a person that was deeply in trouble and Law.

To whom I replied, Why should not I be jocular? my Heart is no longer Captive. Is it not natural for all persons to rejoyce when they regain their Liberty after a tedious Vassalage? [Page 149] You are then very free, my Sylvia, replied the Earl of Englesac, taking me very close by the Hand. I had almost said Yes, and some o­ther disdainful words; but as ill Fortune would have it, I cast my Eyes upon the Earl, and saw so much Love appear in his looks, that I could not but be somewhat sensible of it. I was troubled, and made him no other answer than this, that I was as he would have me to be.

The persons that were with us were civil, and withdrew themselves when they saw us in discourse together. Ah! said the Earl of Englesac, if I should desire you to be otherwise, would you be what I desire you? I made no an­swer but with Tears: The Earl of Englesac was also ready to weep; and had it not been for that troublesome Lady Madam d' Englesac, who, with the Marchioness de Fargue and some other Ladies came to walk in that Gar­den, we had probably linked our selves again for ever.

The Earl of Englesac left me when he saw this company approach. He seem'd asham'd to be found with me alone, nor was it without reason; for after he had done what he did to ruinate me, with what brow could he think to be friends with me by an Accommodation, who had so intangled himself upon such slight occasions?

I think this Reflection made him quit Gre­noble; [Page 150] for he departed without taking leave of any body; and onely by one Letter he as­sured me of his Repentance, and the return of his Passion.

Ah! Madam, what a Letter did he write? What expressions of Love did the Contents discover? And that person must have been very hard-hearted that could peruse it without relenting.

He acquainted me therein that he wrote one to his Mother of the same Import, to con­jure her to let me live undisturbed. I had a desire to see if the Countess was as much moved with her Letter as I was with mine, and I ran to her all in Tears.

She was then with Monsieur de— a Relati­on of hers, and her very good friend; a very vertuous man, who is at present retired into the Chartreuse, and who, since our arrival at Grenoble, did use his Efforts in order to an Accommodation. The Countess had in her hands at that time the Letter he sent her. Ah! cruel Woman, said she assoon as she spied me, Is it possible that you should again deprive me of my Son? you have ruined him in his Estate, Re­putation, and, Minde; your Flattery, Infidelity, or the shame of being made the sport of the one and the other, hath ravished him four times from my Bosom. Ʋnhappy Woman, what have I done to you? Is this the recompence I deserve for stea­ling you from the ill resentments of Madam de [Page 151] Moliere, and receiving you into my own house with so much tenderness?

I gave no other answer to her Reproaches, but my Tears: nay, what could I reply? it was the Earl of Englesac's Mother that said it. At last I answered, Say, and do what you will against me, you cannot do me so much hurt as you have done me good by bringing the Earl of Englesac into the world. I shall never forget what I owe you; and though you should deprive me of Life with your own hands, you shall never blot that good deed out of my memory.

These words pierced the Countess so home, that the effect they produced was a miracle. Her Countenance grew serene, Compassion visibly supplied the seat of Fury. The Pious Witness of our Enterview seconded this her Inclination to pity with his discourse, and I never heard any one speak with so much charity and such powerful Arguments as this devout person. I understand since that the Earl of Englesac had intreated him to do what he did before his departure. What shall I say, Madam? I went away perswaded that our differences were at an end.

And to that purpose, some days after we mutually sign'd an Agreement, whereby the Countess of Englesac desisted from all farther prosecution. She excused her self to me, I begged her pardon; and our whole thoughts were taken up with nothing but [Page 152] how we should recal the Earl of Englesac.

But alas! there lay the difficulty: he met, going from Grenoble, with a person of Qua­lity belonging to the Court of Savoy, whom he formerly knew at Thurin, and was taking a voyage to Candia; this person perswaded the Earl of Englesac to go along with him, and we knew not of the designe till they were embarqued.

I was ready to dye with grief when I heard this news; the Countess of Englesac was also very much concerned; and had it not been for the Remonstrances of the person I mentioned before, who did the best he could to comfort us, for my own part I know not what I should have done. I onely am certain, that the least of my Resolutions was to em­barque at Thoulon, and follow my Husband to Candia. But our common Friend did appease these Commotions, and prevailed with Ma­dam d'Englesac to take me with her to Lan­guedoc.

'Twas a very strange thing to see the very person, who was heretofore so bent upon my Destruction, to lead me by the hand to all the Relations of the Earl of Englesac, desiring them to esteem me as the Wife of her Son, and to boast of my Constancy and Vertue be­fore them, of which indeed she had received very good testimony.

For the Marquiss de Birague (who still [Page 153] continued his intention to marry me, whom Madam de Seville did fortifie by many re­peated promises) had endeavoured to reco­ver my Reputation. He cleared all the Ad­ventures which the world reported of me, and had caused my Innocence in the management thereof to be published. Certainly he did not think that my Reconciliation with the Countess of Englesac was the fruit of his great care and pains; if he had, I believe he would have forborn to give himself that trou­ble till he had found I had been overthrown in Law: but no matter, however I am very much obliged to him.

This Justification, together with the care I took to please the Lady d'Englesac, did by little and little create in her that estimation that she had of me formerly: And I presume I had received great proofs thereof in time, if Death had not surprized her. But it should seem that this poor Woman had nothing to do in this world after the performance of this piece of Justice; for she died in consum­mating of it.

I mourned for her sincerely; so much had the friendship she began to testifie unto me erased the remembrance of those evils she had occasioned me out of my minde; and I had reason to lament her loss much more in the consequence of it; for I found my self im­plunged into new Perplexities, which I might [Page 154] probably have escaped if she had liv'd.

First, the People that could pretend any right to the succession of the Earl of Engle­sac, seeing that he was engaged in a dangerous War, would not stand to the Agreement that the Countess had signed. They said she was near her end when she committed that piece of folly, and that her spirits declined. They set up a Guardian to secure the Earl of En­glesac's Estate till his return; and when I would oppose that Proceeding, as Wife to the absent Earl, they went to Law afresh, with as much heat as the Lady d'Englesac had prose­cuted formerly. They had as much reason as she for it, I confess, for they never sued in my Husband's, but in his Mothers Name; and provided that she had never desisted, the Earl of Englesac's Guardian might continue it after the death of the Countess.

To this vexation a second was added; I lived under the Tuition and Conduct of an old Aunt of the Countess of Englesac's, which was the most Versatile and Phantastique wo­man that ever I met with. One knew not how to satisfie her: that which pleased her to day, would displease her to morrow; and because she had been beautiful, and spared by detraction, she thought all Mankinde was sub­ject to her censure.

I left Languedoc at the death of Madam d'Englesac, and was with this Woman at her [Page 155] house near Marseilles. The same Castelan, who had formerly done me some kindness in Paris, as I have informed your Highness, and thought to do me no less here in Provence, came with a resolution to ship himself for Candia; and hearing I was in that Country, came to see me.

He said nothing to me but what Severity it self would approve of, he being a person that did not love to be imposed upon, and who was naturally a great Courtier: I ad­mired at his respectful carriage to my old Aunt.

But, Madam, if he had preached Repen­tance to me, or the Austerest Virtue, this Wo­man would always pick out somewhat in his Discourse to finde fault with. Why, said she, does he come to visit you? Why should married women entertain such Visitants? What an Age do we live in? what Manners and Customes have we? In my time they lived not at this rate. And I saw in fine, it was come to this, that Castelan must be thrust out of doors by the shoulders.

Judge you, Madam, what reason she had for it: I did load him with expressions of my tenderness and love to the Earl of Englesac; and conjured him, with Tears in my Eyes, to send him back to me, or to prevail with him that I might come to him. Castelan smiled, when I gave him this Commission, and asked [Page 156] me whether I had forgot that he once courted me, and that he could do so still. I also, in my turn, could not forbear smiling at this Remarque; and we had discoursed very plea­santly upon this subject, if the old Woman's murmuring had not obliged me to take leave of him.

This visit was not the onely thing that the Earl of Englesac's Aunt thought she had cause to be discontented at. My Lover at Grenoble was not pleased with me, he had been instru­mental in making the Earl of Englesac jea­lous. This Jealousie was advantageous to me, and I departed from Grenoble without vouchsafing to return him thanks. He made his complaint to me thereof in writing, which was rather an ingenious Missive. than an Amo­rous Letter.

But our old Woman was jealous of every thing. This Letter came unluckily to her hands; and whatever I did offer in my excuse, she made so many tedious Remonstrances, and ill-grounded Reproofs, that I could not en­dure them any longer. I departed, upon pre­tence of my business still depending in the Court at Grenoble, which called me away to that City.

The old Woman would never forgive me for my deserting her; and, Madam, she was such a person as her Character here sets her forth to be: she was weary of her life, because [Page 157] she could not apprehend why I complained of her Humour. Her Anger was very prejudi­cial to me, as I am going to tell your High­ness.

At Grenoble I met with the Nephew of the Bishop of Valence. The business that brought him thither was over, but he was detained by some other new Affairs. He was become Amorous, not with that amusing Love he had for me heretofore, but a most solid and vio­lent Passion.

He had a high esteem for me, though he was no longer my Lover; and I ever obser­ved it. We contracted Friendship, and I became his She-confident: I might do this without scruple, because his Address was law­ful. I readily employed my Wit and Dexte­rity to render him prosperous in his Recher­ches. But, Madam, who had we to deal with, think you? The Female that was in Love with my new Friend had a passionate affection for the Marquiss de— though she could not marry him, by reason of their different Quality; and one who by a princi­ple of Honesty, rarely in a man of the age of twenty four, as he was then no more, did his utmost endeavour to prevent the increase of her Passion.

He shunn'd both her Sight and Society; and when common Civility obliged him to be with her alone, he was so grave in his dis­course, [Page 158] that he could not be too much com­mended for it. We did not as yet under­stand them; besides, we did believe on the contrary, that the young Marquiss did make use of his opportunity. All the Family of this young Gentlewoman was alarm'd hereat; and I was intreated by one of her Relations, who was my friend, to represent unto her the injury that she did her self.

I was never more eloquent; for I had more Irons in the fire than one. I served the Re­lation that employed me, and I promoted the Affairs of the Bishop of Valence's Nephew. I thought I could have accomplished my de­sires; the Gentlewoman seemed to yield to my discourse, and desired to do the same to the Marquiss de—. I undertook this task voluntarily, being altogether ignorant, as I said before, that the Marquiss wanted any Remonstrances; but I desired a Letter of Cre­dence, that is, a little Note to testifie that what I said was not of my own head. But, Ma­dam, can you imagine what Letter I carried? 'twas a fresh Protestation of tenderness of Affection, and a desire withal that he would credit no report to the contrary.

I my self dictated the Letter which I inten­ded to carry; I saw it written and folded up; but the Gentlewoman had another in her pocket ready, which she had prepared to send the next opportunity: She put the change [Page 159] upon me; and whilst I was lighting a Wax-candle, and that she seemed to look for some silk to binde it up, she put the cheat upon me so dexterously, that I carried a Love-letter, thinking it had been a Letter of License.

Do you not, Madam, stand in admiration to think what Love is capable of? The per­son I speak of was but eighteen; she had never been at Court, where they are usually more close and cunning in the manage of their Gallantries than in the Country. I am no Fool, and since it has so pleased my De­stiny, I have but too much experience. In the mean time I was the person that played the cheat for the young Gentlewoman of Dau­phiné.

The Marquiss de— began to laugh when I read this Letter, and that he apprehended by my discourse, it was so contrary to my commission.

Now this little story is not onely recited by the by for your divertisement, but it has some relation to mine, as your Highness shall understand. The Gentlewoman whom I re­proached severely with this Artifice, for I suspected it immediately; and the Marquiss, who is a very discreet and prudent person, could not but avow it. This Gentlewoman, I say, being ashamed to finde her Stratagem discovered, and offended, as I am apt to be­lieve, that it had such ill success, reported it [Page 160] all over Grenoble that I was in love with the Marquiss; and that out of Jealousie I did take upon me to advise her.

This Phancy was carried from Dauphiné to Provence, where the old Aunt did still reside, and by her translated to Languedoc. They that expected to gain by my fall, gave way to this Scandal, and made it come to the ears of the Earl of Englesac.

One would have thought he should by this time have been cur'd of his facility of re­ceiving impressions of Jealousie; but natural defects are seldom corrected. He added the news of my Intrigue with the Marquiss de— to the story that his Aunt had sent him: for she did not pass by this Revenge. He was grieved, and sought my injury more than e­ver: and being instigated by the same Jea­lousie which had been so fatal to us both, he sent a Procuration or Letter of Attorney to his Relations to vacate my Marriage by Proxie. What a Wound was this to a poor Innocent, who had flattered her self with this opinion, that she had wearied all her Detra­ctors; and knowing in her Conscience that she had not merited it, onely waited for the return of the Earl of Englesac to enjoy that Repose which she had purchased with so many Sufferings.

I was so overwhelm'd with Grief and An­ger, that I had almost lost my Reason. There [Page 161] were several Ships that set sail from Thoulon daily, to carry Recruits to the French in Can­dia: I resolved to go aboard of one of them, and without consideration of the danger whereunto I exposed my self, had gone in person to upbraid the Earl of Englesac with his Levity, but that I was obstructed by new Adventures.

I will relate them to your Highness in their order, and you will finde them as singular as those I have recited already.

But Madam, I must afford you some respit, you cannot but be tired out with so much Reading, as I am also with Writing. I de­sire your Highness would please to give me leave to consider a while upon the remainder of my Relation, and conjure you to look up­on my obedience to your Command as no small matter in this Declaration of my fol­lies: And as it is your Highness onely, of all persons in the world, that could draw this Confession from my own mouth, so there is no person to whom I am with so much Zeal and Respect,

THE ADVENTURES AND MEMOIRES OF Henrietta Sylvia Moliere. PART the V.

YOu must needs look upon me as a very indiscreet person in the Fourth Part of this my Relation; and I was so indeed: For I did not onely desire to go to Candia, as I have avowed it to your Highness; but when I understood by some persons returned from thence, that the Earl of Englesac was dead, I bewailed his loss as if he had been the most faithful of men.

I had quite forgot all his Ingratitude, and ruminated onely on our former Love; and I leave it to your consideration, Madam, whe­ther I had reason to imprint him so firmly in [Page 164] my remembrance; for he had in that Coun­try been guilty of Infidelity several times.

I will acquaint your Highness with it in time; but I must first give an account how my business was carried on at Grenoble.

The Heirs of the Earl of Englesac did per­secute me cruelly. I had carried away a great deal of the Goods he left them, and they could not agree to put it up without a con­test at Law. They sued me without inter­mission; they drained both my Purse and Patience, and persisted in the ill humour of destroying my Reputation and Fortune, who never so heavily oppressed me with the one hand, but that she supported me with the o­ther, and found me out to my happiness a Protector. I will not tell your Highness his Name, because you do not know him; but he was a good man, of great interest in the Court of Judicature; and I may boldly say, that he is the onely man that I ever knew e­spouse a handsome Womans interest, without any other motive but that of Charity. I had hopes, through his means, to overcome my Ene­mies; but that hope soon vanished, and I will tell you what destroyed it.

The Chevalier de Montchevreüil came to Grenoble, in order to the dispatch of business. I was acquainted with him at Paris, where we were indifferent good friends; and since he knew I was at Grenoble, he failed not to [Page 165] visit me. He did of his own accord concern himself with me; and though he was more in Love with Gaming than Women, he would for his diversion sometimes tell me, in a toyish humour, that I became my Widows habit ve­ry well.

This Amusement was never intended as a piece of Gallantry. I told him one day smi­ling, when he had spent a whole Afternoon with me, that he was indebted to me for all the money that he had not lost; and he also answered me with a smile, that he had then made a double gain, and expected a reward for hindring me, during all that time, from thinking upon the Earl of Englesac. I took upon me a severe Countenance, and prohibi­ted him with much seriousness, not to inter­mingle his discourse with my Husband. He laughed at my scrupulousness, and told me I was unwise to keep such Measures with so inconstant a Husband. He added farther, You are one of my Friends, I will cure you of this weakness, and endeavour to obtain your Love, if it be but to drive the thoughts of that Ingrate out of your minde.

Consider, Madam, whether this might be called an Engagement; we made no Secret of it; and we were the first that did droll in Company after our own way of Entertain­ment. But when malicious Spirits go about to poison Discourse, they make every thing a Crime.

Your Highness may remember that I had stollen away the Heart of the Marquiss de— from a Gentlewoman of Grenoble: she ever owed me ill will after that Larceny; and knowing that my Protector was a very ver­tuous man, she understood so well how to work upon him, that he was perswaded the Visits of the Chevalier de Montchevreüil were more culpable than they appeared to be, in­somuch that he would not concern himself with my business any longer.

I know not how so wise a man was so easi­ly seduced; nor how those innocent Toys which passed between the Chevalier and I, could have so bad a Construction put upon them: but in fine, they did interpret them very prejudicially, and said such things of us both, as put me to the blush when I think of them. The persons of Quality on whom he depended, blamed him for his Gaming; and in truth he was never cut out for a Game­ster, he was ever so unfortunate: But he could not leave it off; nay he would shut himself up with Gamesters, that he might play all night long without interruption. He ho­noured me with his Watches as if he were in my company; and they perswaded the good man that I spake of, that whenever they searched for Montchevreüil and could not finde him, he was then Caressing of me.

My Adversaries buoy'd up this false rumour [Page 167] by their Authority and Testimony; and I know not whether they did not likewise make use of some shift to countenance it; for the talk was concerning a man muffled up in a great Champaigne-cloak, that went out of my house at break of day. They invented several other strange circumstances besides, which had as little of truth in them. What shall I say, Madam? my Protector was asha­med that he ever had born that Name; and write what I could in my own Justification, (for he would not permit me to see him) he continued inexorable.

His change made so great an alteration in my Affairs, that I concluded I should lose my Cause; and therefore took a resolution to go and cast my self at the King's Feet, to Petition him that I might sue in another Court, or have other Commissioners deputed to try my Cause. I departed from Grenoble upon this designe; and however, I gained this advantage by my Misfortunes, that all men were insupportable to me. One of my grea­test griefs in going to Paris was, in thinking that I must be obliged to lend an ear to some of them; for I guessed very right, that when a Woman is somewhat handsome, and that she undertakes Sollicitation at Court, she is frequently exposed to be caressed by Cour­tiers. This reflection more than once per­swaded me to steer my old course. I know [Page 168] not what I should have done without the Re­monstrances of Merinvil; but she asked me whether I would live without Estate and Name in the World; and when I was not sufficiently sensible of this consideration, she grew angry, told me that I had lost my sense, and that she could wish I had ten Lovers, pro­vided that one of them would free me from trouble.

She had not any long time to discourse me with these kinde of Follies; for I learned by my arrival at Lyons, that the King was upon his departure for the Isle, where he was resol­ved to pass away two moneths time and bet­ter.

This delay afflicted me very much; I did not question but my departure from Grenoble would have lost me those few Friends that I had left; and, seeing my self deprived of the ready help which I expected, I repented my self that I had taken such ill Measures. But Patience was the onely remedy: What could I do? The King would not hear any busi­ness till his return; and if I could possibly move him with Compassion, how should I overtake him that makes such long Journeys, and was 100 Leagues before me?

Well, I comforted my self as well as I could, and resolved to go to Lyons all the time that the King would be in Flanders. I thought that it would be more easie for me to live [Page 169] there a solitary Life than at Paris: and I had formerly made a friend at Languedoc, which was then a Pensioner in St. Peter's Abbey, from whom I expected great matters: She had no greater cause to praise men than I had; and we spent our time, whole days together, in strengthening our selves in the Spleen we owed them.

A Divota, one of her friends, who was very Ingenious and Complaisant, did some­times come to our entertainment, and did always make it very pleasant; for she was naturally merry. She told me and my friend, that we were Fools to shun the society of Men because they had injured us. 'Tis not by a­voiding their Company that they are punished, said she; on the contrary, you should converse with them, endeavour to please them, and then make them run mad. But I replied, By enra­ging them they destroy Women; and if they are so civil as not to do it, the Publique will without their assistance. Adde to that, says my Friend, that usually, by endeavouring to bring but one Lover to despair, we come to love him insensibly, and prove by this means that Love is not to be sported with.

We entertained one another one day after this manner, when the Earl de Tavanes, who went from Lyons in order to his passage to Candia, where he after lost his Life, and who was very intimately acquainted with the Re­ligious [Page 170] Woman I speak of, came to see her; the Nun that attends at the Round Box, or Portress, sent him into the Parlour where we were; and though I disappeared at his sight, yet I was very much offended at this Ren­counter. I told my friend the next day af­ter, that if her Parlour were made so com­mon to all the world, she should seldom have me there with her. She appeased me as well as she could, and assured me, that I need not have any apprehension of fear upon the account of that Gentleman that I saw there.

And indeed, Madam, she had already seen the Earl de Tavanes several times, who per­swaded her that he hated our Sex as much as I hated theirs. I did not at first believe that Hatred was real: I told my friend that there was some mystery hid under that, and that she was the person to be wheedled. But the Religiosa and she told me so many things to take off that suspition, that in conclusion they did perswade me, and I my self had a desire to see a person so rarely to be found.

That was no difficult matter; I went every day to St. Peter's Abbey, and he himself sel­dom missed coming thither. We met toge­ther as we did the first time; and I protest to you that I confirmed that was said of him.

He made the difference considerable be­tween [Page 171] her and other Women. She is not a little obliging, added he, and he must put a high value upon you, that understands your Sex, and not to shun you. I am naturally Toyish, and as it fell out, I was that day in an humour of Raillery: I told the Earl smiling, that he was very confident to declare himself thus be­fore three such Ladies as we were; that he deserved to be punished for it; and if it had been in my youthful days, I would have made him sing a Palinode.

He received this Menace with an indiffe­rence that extended even unto disdain, and continuing to take this Character all the re­maining time of the Conversation: I was so much convinced of his hatred of Women, that I insensibly avoided him no more, as I did other men. For, Madam, I did not hate their persons, but their madness, to fix them­selves near me, and always throw me into some vexatious Adventure.

Now because I did not believe the Earl de Tavanes to be of that humour, I permitted him to make up a fourth person in our En­tertainments. He proffered very kindly those friends that he had at Court: I was very much obliged to him; and one day when it rained, and I had not my Coach with me, I suffered him to wait upon me in his own to my House.

He onely conducted me to my Chamber, [Page 172] and left me assoon as I was there. The Nun made war with him next day, that he had not improved that opportunity to a Visit: He excused himself with this, That he desi­red very little Commerce with Women; and though he spake of me very respectfully, yet it was for all that with so little pressing to be better acquainted with me, that I took de­light to see his Friend blame him; and I did not contradict the advice they gave him to come and make reparation for his fault.

Then, Madam, he came; and as if he would remove all questions, which that Visit might have in consequence, he gave me an account of the Reasons he had to abhor all Women. This Story is nothing to me, and I could willingly pass it over; but why should I not tell it you? It did increase my Con­fidence in him, and it will divertise your Highness. We did it onely in Conversation; and 'tis not the History of his Life, 'tis onely a Recital of one of the Particulars there­of.

I was born to Love, said he; and though I am not very much stricken in years, I have already met with five or six Amorous Adventures. I have reason to complain of them all: For I al­ways met with those that are Cruel or Inconstant, those that are Capricious or Light: And in fine, I had but too great reason to seek after Change. The most dolorous Intrigue that ever I rencountred, [Page 173] and which hath made me determine never to have any more, is that you are now going to learn.

I stopp'd at Dijon coming from the Country in Franche-Comté. I am (as it may be you know) a Native of Burgundy, and my Lands lie in that Country. At Dijon there was a very fair Woman at Law, whose Name I will con­ceal; for an honest man is obliged upon his own account to this kinde of discretion. She pleased me, I kept close to her, and found nothing in her but that cruelty which was necessary to render her Favours more desirable by me.

I did her good service in her Law-suits; and when she had any spare time, I shewed her all the Divertisements that that Province could afford. She accepted of my Care and Service, as if she ought never to have forgot them: but Ladies have a very treacherous Memory; and I will tell you how she did acknowledge the Obligations where­with she was bound to me. The Marquiss de Ca­stelnauld was hurt by a great Contusion at Be­sansson, and the Chirurgeon had made an Inci­sion, but closed it too soon; it grew worse and worse as he passed through Dijon, and forced him to sojourn there for some time. My fair Law-Lady was taken with his handsome looks; but let that go, one is not always Mistriss of the Sen­timents of their own Heart. Yet, the rarity was, that the cunning Baggage feigned to have a natural aversion for the Marquiss.

He was a very good friend of mine; and it had [Page 174] been a mere Capricio of the Brain to hate him thus without reason. I did extreamly blame my She-dissembler; and after I had told her that she must overcome this Hatred, I my self brought Castelnauld to her, that he might by his merit finish what I had begun.

You may imagine there was no great trouble in this, this Visit was backed with several others; and if I was told truth, my Inconstant Mistriss did all she could to advance the Intrigue.

The Marquiss was not cruel, and the Lady very charming; they had soon contracted friend­ship: and that which was so relishing to my Ri­val was, that they made me their Mockery. They were agreed together that he should interpret all the Testimonies of ber hatred to him before me, as Marks of his Passion; insomuch, that when my Traitress was over-pressed with his Love, she told Castelnauld the bitterest things imagina­ble.

I was really troubled at it; I begg'd his excuse, and asked him, with an ingenious Air, if possibly he had not seen that Woman some­where else out of Dijon, and if the hatred she shew'd him had not some Legitimate foundation?

He smiled at my simplicity, and told me jestingly, that he must bear this Misfortune as well as the other Malevolences of his Stars; and the injustice wherewith I was so surprized, was not the onely thing that La­dies are capable of.

He play'd the counterfeit thus all the time we continued at Dijon; but one day when at our return we were walking in the little Park at Versailles, and that we came to discourse of our Law-Lady insensibly, he had such re­morse on a sudden, that he begged pardon for his Treachery, and told me what you have heard from me.

I would not believe him; and I think I should still question the truth, if he had not perswaded me to it by twenty Letters, some more convincing than others. There was one, wherein she gave him a taste of this sub­tilty, as one of the most agreable Mysteries of Love. In some others she recommended it as a necessary piece of Polity in him to obtain her Suit at Law, and informed him what cre­dit I had in our Parliament.

Ʋpon your faith, Madam, replied the Earl, looking upon me stedfastly, do you think that I have reason to hate Women? and after the relation of this Treachery which I newly dis­coursed to you, am not I very moderate in doing them no more mischief?

I was moved with a true compassion for the Cheat they put upon him; and finding my self very much obliged for his confiding in me, I thought I must acknowledge it by relating to him, now it came in my turn, some one piece of the Ingratitude of the Earl of Englesac. Your Highness is ignorant of the [Page 176] later, and methinks I must acquaint you with them in this very place.

This Versatile Man became Amorous of a Female-Greek in Candia; and finding in her either counterfeit or real Vertue, told all the world that he was going to marry her. He did not do so; for he could not; and if he could, I cannot perswade my self that he would be so faithless. But his Discourses did injure my Reputation: and as he did not conceal himself, and people are more apt to believe bad than good Reports, the whole Army at his death was perswaded that I was not his Wife.

O, Madam! what a piece of Ingratitude is this? Alas! he had formerly undergone so much to become my Husband, and was so obliging to me, that I believed him without difficulty: But this is not all, he lived nine or ten days after his Wound, and employed almost the whole time in shewing kindness to my Rivaless: he said that he onely regretted the loss of his Life, because he should die without depriving her of something he had a minde to; and if some charitable Officers in the Army had not looked upon those Ex­pressions as of dangerous consequence in a dying-man, and snatch'd away the Greek from his Bed-side, the perfidious man had died with such words as those in his mouth.

In your opinion now, said I to the Earl de [Page 177] Tavanes, are the Injuries you have received more cruel than mine? and have you more ground for your hatred than I have for mine? Let us joyn them together, Madam, repli'd he, and take delight in detesting all Mankinde.

I could not forbear smiling at this discourse, and answered him waggishly, that I supected any Union whatsoever with men. But as he was a very deserving person, and seemed in my opinion to hate those kinde of Intrigues as well as my self, he had free access to me when he pleased, and I loved him as a Bro­ther.

A certain Knight, de la Mothe by name, came to ill purpose, and disturbed our Socie­ty; he was Captain of a Gally that went to Marseilles in order to his going to Sea, and that yearly in his passage staid ten or twelve days at Lyons, where he increased the number of the Admirers of Madam Carle.

This year, to my Misfortune, Madam Carle was not the sole occasion of his stay: he had seen me in the Garden d'Ainé, which is a fine place, where the Ladies of Lyons usually take their walks. I never went at those times when they were there, but sought out the most solitary Retirements. I know not by what accident the Knight de la Mothe found them out one day as well as my self; but in the end he met me there; and from that [Page 178] time I never frequented any place but he found me out.

He followed me to all the Churches; he was constantly in the way that leads from my House to the Abbey; and when for vex­ation that I always met with this man, I con­fin'd my self to my Chamber, he us'd him­self to a Neighbour's house, where he could see me through my Windows, as if he had been at home with me.

All this did highly disgust me; and I told the Earl de Tavanes one day, that if the Knight de la Mothe did persist in his Impor­tuning of me after this manner, I would leave Lyons, and go to Paris, in expectation of the King's return thither.

I cannot tell whether the Earl was afraid of this, or whether he was onely ambitious to oblige me; but he went to the Knight, whom he knew, and entreated him not to put me thus to the tryal. This Woman has some rea­son to her self not to be taken notice of, said he, and you discover her by your Affectation or Desire to follow her. Good Sir, follow her no more, I be­seech you: a gallant man should never afflict a brave woman.

The Knight smil'd at the Earl's Remon­strances, and answered him in a malicious tone, that he could not accomplish his designs because they did so watch and observe his forwardness, and looked upon it as a thing [Page 179] to be feared. Good God! said I to the Earl, when he gave me an account of this their Conversation, let him do what he will, I will not have you speak any more to him concerning me. And indeed, Madam, that he should not think I stood in awe of him, I seem'd to take no farther cognizance of his behaviour.

I know not whether this made him more confident, or whether he was resolved to try my Patience to the utmost; but one day, when I was at an Abbey at the Investiture of a Nun (and I could not avoid being present at that Ceremony) he procured a Chair to sit near me; and without the least re­spect to the Holiness of the place, discoursed to me concerning his Amours. Judge you, Madam, if he did not make choice of a pro­per time; and if I were not very much dis­posed to receive his Declaration. I looked upon him with so severe a Brow, and bid him so imperiously seek out another object of his Gallantry, that he durst not prosecute it any farther; but being in a great confu­sion, he went out before the Ceremony was ended.

Alas! I had done far better to have dis­sembled my Anger, and permit him to have been near me: For, Madam, he went to take a walk to allay his Grief in the same Gar­den where he had the first sight of me; and I am going to acquaint you with the new [Page 180] Displeasures that Fortune was preparing for me.

The Earl de Tavanes was walking alone musing, and the Knight de la Mothe spying a­far off a bundle of Papers fall from his Poc­ket, gathered it up: Ah! Madam, what Pa­pers were these, think you? they were eight or ten Letters which I wrote to the Earl of Englesac when he woo'd me, without Super­scription; for I usually folded them up in a double Covering: Now she that loves her Lover extraordinarily, and is not so prudent as your Highness, oftentimes writes some lit­tle fopperies designedly. This foolish Knight de la Mothe thought that these Letters were directed to the Earl de Tavanes; and as it hapned I had signed some of them, he look­ed upon the Earl as his Rival, and did accuse him in his thoughts as the Author of all the ill Treatments that he received at my hands.

Your Highness may guess how much I was surprized, when the Knight in revenge dispersed these Letters all abroad, and that my She-friend gave me notice of the discourse that was made of me. I asked the Earl de Tavanes the reason of it; and he answered me very coldly, that I knew well enough he could not make any bad use of my Let­ters.

Alas! no; for I never wrote any to him; but it was sufficient that they made a story [Page 181] of him and I, to engage me never to look up­on him more. I told him of it very ingenu­ously; and he was so moved therewith, that he had a great Quarrel against the Knight de la Mothe, and they were like to fight about it. Some persons who were friends to both took up the business; and whether in the ac­commodation they discovered the Mystery of those Letters, or that there were some of them wherein the Earl of Englesac was known, they began to acquaint the world to whom they did properly belong.

I became more innocent hereupon; but yet I was not less Intrigu'd. One of these Letters came to my own hands, and it may not probably displease your Highness to see what Style they write that are deeply in love; and that this Love having no end but what is Lawful, constrains not the desires of the Soul. Here is a Copy of the Letter I speak of.

How foolish are Women when they are di­sturbed with these things? I understood not till a long while after, that this Letter was the talk in all the Female-assemblies at Lyons. The Earl de Tavanes need not tell me of it; for as there was reason for him to take no notice of it, so he departed angry to see himself thus entangled with me in my concerns, and I knew not what was become of him. It came into my thoughts, that the Earl of En­glesac himself had lost these Letters, that he was not dead, and that I should live to see him return, as well as when I had so much la­mented his loss in the Naval Fight of the Dutch.

This thought created a thousand idle Fancies in me; and I must confess to you all my Im­becility: I think that the least Repentance of this Faithless man had rendred him more dear to me than ever: But his death was too [Page 183] certain; besides, Madam, if I could have flattered my self with hope, I had little time to think of that, as I am going to inform your Highness.

My Adversaries made advantage of my absence, and obtained an absolute Order, whereby they had permission to secure my per­son till the Suit were ended. Do but see, Madam, how rigorously they dealt with me. I was the Widow of the Earl of Englesac; they contended with me for my Estate and Quality, and would also deprive me of the liberty of making my Defence; but any thing is granted almost upon a Default: Yet to make the best of this Order, it proved of advantage to me; for I hereby found out a new way to implore the King's Justice.

And then I made haste to Paris, where their Majesties were expected in very few days. And because, fearing a surprize, I made my Journey Incognito, I pretended that I had ob­tained leave to enter into the Abby of St. Peter; my own Servants thought I was there already; and leaving them at Lyons, the bet­ter to conceal the business, I onely took along with me Merinvil, and went into the Passage-boat.

This Voyage at first drew Tears from my Eyes; it did not well agree with the Widow of the Marquiss of Meneza and the Earl of En­glesac: but besides that, my temper is not [Page 184] to be over-much afflicted, I met with a Ren­counter in that Boat that diverted me from my sorrowful Reflections.

It was the famous Desbareaux; he went into Provence to pass away his time there eve­ry Winter; and this year, being a little too forward, he found the Season was somewhat hot as yet, and came back again near Châlons, to make an end of the Vintage with one of his Friends.

I have heard much discourse of this man; and was impatient to be acquainted with him. I seated my self by him, and did what I could to put him in the humour of talking, which was no great matter of difficulty; and though they gave little ear to him, he was not cove­tous of the Stories he knew.

He related some, wherein methought he had no extraordinary respect for persons of the greatest Quality; and passing from one Adventure to another, I know not by what means, he fell upon mine. He had never seen me in his Life; I told him not my Name; and he believed me to be in St. Peter's Ab­bey; he spake of me as of an absent person, that is to say, he did not spare me at all.

Yet he did me Justice for all that in some particulars, and beyond all Controversie the publick Report had not taught him all that he knew. But, Madam, one thing that sur­prized me very much, as it must needs do [Page 185] your Highness also, was, that speaking of my sojourning at Lyons, he gave out that the Earl de Tavanes was my Lover. I was almost ready to discover my self by the strange man­ner of my acquainting him that this Rumour was owned to be false, and that the Earl de Tavanes certainly never loved the Countess of Englesac.

Who do you speak to, said he to me smiling? 'Tis from the Earl de Tavanes own Mouth that I learned this whole Intrigue. I just now parted with him in Forest at the Marquiss de— where we have been ten or twelve days together. And then, Madam, he told me that the Earl de Tavanes had seen me at Grenoble, and that he became Amorous of me there: That he followed me to Lyons, where seeing that I often frequented St. Peter's Abbey, he disco­vered himself to the Religiosa that I have spoken of, who was his ancient Friend, and who without doubt looked upon his Designes as Lawful, since that she had so engaged her self to do him service.

It was a Plot among them, that he had pretended to hate all Women, merely to in­troduce him to my house: And that he had no desire to have any farther commerce with them. They deceived my Female-friend first; and to make it short to your Highness, I was decoy'd by all the Earl's appearances; and that which I thought I had done by accident, I did with designe.

This discourse drove me into an astonish­ment that I could not dissemble. I put que­stions to Monsieur Desbareaux without inter­mission, and very few of them but what were pertinent; for I never in my life knew any intrusted Confident better informed. He un­derstood even the least discourse that I had with the Earl: he told me all that that Lover thought, what he believed I thought; and when we came to the point of my Letters, he told me what had hapned, as if he had been an Eye-witness thereof. Your Highness knows but one part of it, but I will acquaint you with the rest.

The Earl of Englesac had a Valet de Cham­bre whom I did always mistrust, because he was prefer'd to him by the Countess his Mother. I told him, and often wrote to him, that he should have a care of the Fellow, and that I had reason to suspect every thing that came from whence he did: yet I could never get him turn'd away; for he loved him, and was perswaded that I was prepossessed with pre­judice against him without reason.

He was with him to his Dying-day; and this Boy, having found among his Master's Papers some Letters wherein I spake very ill of him, did not come to me to demand sa­tisfaction, but made the best use of them he could.

He was by chance become Valet de Cham­bre [Page 187] to the Earl de Tavanes; and it was just a­bout the time that that Earl began to court me. He was not backward, as your Highness may guess, in putting questions to his new Domestick Servant: He knew that he had some of my Letters, and having taken them from him, thought to have carried them with him to Lyons, when he lost them, and that the Chevalier de la Mothe took them up.

I was not sollicitous to disentangle my self of this; for to take away all my suspition, the Earl de Tavanes had sent this Valet to Toulon, where the rest of his Equipage atten­ded his Arrival, and from whence he did some small time after Embarque himself to carry fresh Recruits to Candia.

Monsieur Desbareaux told me all these things very ingenuously, and put me into an extream trouble to think that I should have such a villainous Cheat put upon me. The Earl de Tavanes had no great advantage by this deceitful Trick: I took him always to be one of my Friends, and I continued with­in the limits of the most Inncoent Friend­ship. But what might have hapned if I had always persisted therein? He was a well-shap'd Lover, and of an agreable temper, whom I had, without thinking of any such thing, permitted to be intimate with me for two Moneths and better, who told me, that I should not be so much used to see him unmoved; [Page 188] but that after I should understand something, I could not have the power to banish him my Company.

This Thought made me forgive the Che­valier de la Mothe for all the Importunities re­ceived by him: And in effect, if he had not troubled his head with loving of me, the Adventure of the Letters had possibly never hapned, and I had still seen the Earl de Ta­vanes very familiarly. But as the Knight did not do all that with good Intentions, so I did not hate his Sex the less for that; for I said all that I could think of in their preju­dice.

Monsieur Desbareaux pretended that he could say as much of ours, and was not in the humour to spare them in the least. He re­membred his Intrigues that were passed, and had a thousand Reasons to believe Women to be much more perfidious than men. I would not agree with him herein; and we had sometimes such Disputes as resembled sharp Quarrels: for this man did not argue like other persons; he maintained his Opi­nion with as much heat, as if he had been greatly interessed therein: and when any one was positive in thwarting of him, he was transported with Passion against those that contradicted him; and this Transport did greatly increase his Passion.

But perhaps I tire your Highness in making [Page 189] so prolix a Discourse concerning my Spleen against men: I must now divertise you with an indifferent Story, which made me laugh heartily, and without question will create the same Passion in your Highness.

We had in our Boat a man, who, though the whole Retinue that waited on him was but one Lacquey, yet had he the Air of a per­son of Quality. He sate by me as it fell out, and we did often chat together. We came (I know not upon what occasion) to dis­course of some of the Cities of Languedoc; and this man said, though not very discreet­ly, that the Ladies of Montpellier were pliable enough.

This was said before one of that City, who had an indifferent handsome woman to his Wife, of whom he was very jealous. He took offence at this reproach, and asked the Gentleman that spake first, with a severe look, if he had experimented the Gentleness of the Ladies of Montpellier, or whether he knew them onely by hear-say.

I spent one whole Winter with them, replied this Gentleman coldly, and associated my self with one of the most considerable, and greatest Gal­lants, from whom I understood the Intrigues of many others. May a man be so bold as to ask you her Name? replied the jealous Husband very briskly.

I know not whether they knew him, or [Page 190] whether they intended to punish him for his Jealousie, or whether chance onely introduced the Story, but they named his Wife to him. You are mistaken, interrupted he, the person you have named is not of the humour you talk of; and therefore you must needs take some other per­son for her.

This Dispute did move me to curiosity; I would have pressed it more home, and I did maliciously ask the man that spake first, what kinde of Woman she was that is now in que­stion.

He replied, She is tall; and if she had a double Chin, would be of an excellent proportion. Her Eyes are beautiful, her Mouth somewhat wide, but admirable Teeth; a lively good Co­lour, brown Hair, and Sings as well as heart can wish.

You would have laughed extreamly, Ma­dam, if you had seen how this poor Husband hearkned to the Character given of his Wife. He changed Colour twice or thrice; and tur­ning towards one of his Friends that stood near him, told him, louder than he thought he did, 'Tis my Wife they speak of; and you may easily finde that the Discourse describes her Limb by Limb.

The other still prosecuted it: She loves to be at Balls, and they are often made at her own House; And one Gentleman, said he, naming his Name, which I have forgot, did [Page 191] treat her with five or six very noble Balls, during the time that he made his Amours to her.

The Husband continued, This is not at all like her, speaking to his friend; the man they talk of never was within my doors. I was at Paris when he was at Montpellier; but I have faithful Intelligence of all the Passages in my absence; and I am well satisfied that they mi­stook another for my Wife.

This Relator continued his Story: She has a very neat Country-house, where she spends the whole Summer; it was there that I first saw her, and all Strangers out of curiosity go to see that House; for besides that it is more com­modious than usually Rural Appartments are, there is a Closet or little Room full of Antique Arms, which is one of the greatest Rarities that can be seen.

Ah! that is more like my Wife than all the rest, said the Husband with a desperate and loud Tone; nay certainly she is the idle Gossip, ac­cording to their Representation.

We all brake out into such a loud fit of laughter, that the poor man was quite dis­countenanced, and went to hide himself in some other part of the Vessel, where I believe he made most dreadful Resolutions; but they permitted him not to fortifie them; for they went and swore to him, that all that was said was onely to try him, and the Sto­ry was false from the beginning to the end.

And it may be it was so accordingly; for who can give credit to what men say? was there ever any one man faithful? But now I return to relate some novel Subtilties, and new Romances, beseeching your Highness to pardon me (since I could not avoid it) for telling the Tale of the Husband of Mont­pellier.

As we were tattling and jesting in this man­ner, we came to Paris insensibly, where I im­mediately had a Rencounter that did much rejoyce me, though it did not a little afflict me too withal.

It was with a Gentleman-usher belonging to the Marchioness of Sevil, who was look­ing for a conveniency in a Stage-coach to bring me at Grenoble (where he thought I still re­sided) a Casket that his Mistriss had sent me. He was an old Servant whom they had found to be very trusty; and judge, Madam. whether it was not requisite that he should be well known! There was in it a great num­ber of rich Precious Stones: the Gentleman probably knew nothing of it; but however, he did not look upon them, and brought them to me very faithfully.

I'll assure you, Madam, they did very much rejoyce me; and these rich Jewels, after so many Suits at Law, and Journeys, were a great help to me; but together with the re­ceipt of them, I understood that the poor Mar­chioness was dead.

There was besides somewhat of Adventure interwoven with this her Death: They pre­tended that she had taken I know not what Potion, of which a man also took, and 'twas to create an eternal Passion of mutual Love between them; which Ingredients were ill prepared, or the hour of the Marchioness was come. She died very suddenly, and it was thought that the Draught contributed very much thereunto.

Poor Lady! she had left by Will all that she could, and sent me these Precious Stones when she was dying. Alas! she had no need of this last act of Generosity to oblige me to cherish her Memory. She had some little Phrensies, which did not relish with all the world, and we had many Intanglements to­gether; but when all is said, she was a good and generous Person; and I am sensible that I was very much obliged to her. I mourned for her as much as if she had been my Mo­ther; and I look upon your Highness to be so Compassionate as to bear a part with me here in my affliction.

I kept her Gentleman with me, and rewar­ded him according to his desert, because he had so faithfully performed the last Will of his Mistriss. He was an understanding man, and well acquainted at Paris: he found me out a Lodging, where I was secured till they obtained from the Council stay of Procee­dings, [Page 194] and liberty to put me in a posture of Defence. I do'nt know how they did to ma­nage my business before the Privy Council. I had need go to Law indeed, being so igno­rant in litigious Quirks; and were I never so skilful in them, I should not amplifie my self upon that Subject to your Highness, be­cause I believe that would not prove any great Recreation to you. But however, I found my self free, and in a condition to pro­secute my Adversaries as freely as I had done formerly.

I sent for my Equipage that was left at Lyons; and by good Fortune a man of Dau­phiné, that was tired upon the Road, and could not sit his Horse, asked some of my Servants for a place in my Coach; and they were so civil as not to deny him.

I say, by good Fortune, Madam; for this Man was the particular friend of Monsieur de Lionne; and when he arrived at Paris, grew acquainted with me. This generous Officer found somewhat in my Physiognomy which did not displease him: He desired to under­stand all my business, and I was so happy, that the most stubborn of the Earl of Englesac's Relations had a weighty business in the Court, which depended upon the manage­ment of Monsieur de Lionne.

He promised me very obligingly to make such a conjuncture advantageous to me; and in [Page 195] truth he knew so well how to manage the man's temper, that he put him in a way of accommodation; and he drew such expres­sions from him, and other of my Adversaries, which became inviolable Sureties to me.

I do not remember that I ever passed away any time with greater Tranquillity than this that I am now speaking of. I expected my Enemies day after day, who promised me to do whatsoever Monsieur de Lionne pleased; and I was of opinion that he would not pre­fer their Interests before mine. The Jewels of Madam de Seville brought me into great trouble: They questioned her Donation to me in Flanders; but I consulted several able Lawyers, who assured me, that Controversie would not hold Water; and which plea­sed me beyond all the rest, I had no Suiters near me: but this last Content was but short; and certainly it is written in the Heavens, That Lovers in spite of me, will trouble me as long as I shall live.

I was in a place where they Gam'd very much; and I did like the rest, but more to link my self in the Society of Women, than for any love that I have to Play. A Person of highest Quality at Court was often one that played against us; and according to the In­constancy of my Stars, he took a phancy to me, and endeavoured to obtain my Love.

He was not fit for that; Dignity and Magni­ficence [Page 196] sway very little with me; for there must be somewhat agreeable to my eye, be­fore it can arrive at my Heart. But because he was a Person of great Credit, and that I had no reason to procure such redoubted Ene­mies, I defended my self against him with somewhat more Civility than I us'd the Che­valier de la Mothe.

Without dissimulation, when I think on it, his initiation into my Acquaintance did greatly please me. The Man I speak of, has Wit enough in his own way, but 'tis very con­fus'd and disorder'd; and assoon as he plunges himself in Discourse, he falls into a Canting kinde of Jargon. I did enviously propose Questions to him, when he began to be Intri­cated; and applauding him for his Eloquence, when he least deserv'd it, drove him into such obscurity, that I had almost died with Laugh­ing. I know not whether he perceived that I jeer'd him, or whether through Malice any one gave him to understand it; but he shewed a great deal of Anger, and threatned me with no less than a memorable Revenge.

I fear'd it not; for I could not be con­vinced of any thing. 'Tis true, within my self I did Quip or Gibe at him, but yet in the mean while I always kept my self within such a Decorum as to outward Appearances, that he could desire no greater; and if I had been defective in any of them, yet did I not think [Page 197] that for that they would study revenge against a Woman of my Quality.

Therefore instead of being terrified at their Advice, I became more jocular; and one day when I was in a waggish Humour, I said in relation to that business, that he was ingrate­ful; and should remember that I once under­stood him.

I confess that this passage was very poi­gnant to a person who was drol'd at for his Pedlers-French discourse; but it seem'd so pleasant to me, that I could not but out with it; and it fared with me as it does usually with people that are over-eager to throw out a Jest; for not only the great Lord understood it, and would never pardon it, as your High­ness shall soon be informed; but it drew abundance of troublesom business upon me.

I did this waggery before the Chevalier du Buisson, who was by accident in a House where I used to play often. You, Madam, know this Knight, and understand what an impression witty Raillery made with him. He was touched with this; and desiring to be more particularly acquainted with me, he in­treated the young Earl d'Eschapelles, who was a very intimate Friend of mine, to accom­pany him to my Apartment.

D'Eschapelles asked my leave, and I freely condescended to it: now do but observe the concatenation of Causes, what a thing 'tis! [Page 198] The deceased Madam d'Englesac had told me formerly, that she had some Pretence to the Succession of Monsieur Deslandes-Payen, who was Uncle to this Chevalier. I had by chance the Writings concerning that affair in my own hands; I came by them I know not how at the death of Madam d'Englesac. I enquir'd for some person that understood the affairs of Monsieur Deslandes deceased, to see if I could not squeeze somewhat out of his Heirs.

The Chevalier du Buisson did seem to me a person very fit for the undertaking. I told the Earl d'Eschapelles that I should be ve­ry glad to see him, and that he might bring him with him when he thought convenient; who brought him accordingly; and to my Misfortune I pleased him, as I had done ma­ny other persons.

He told it very confidently to the young Earl, as I had it from him since; and made him think that he went to make his utmost Efforts to gain a share in my favour.

I acquainted your Highness that the Earl d'Eschapelles was my very intimate friend; and you may remember that we were of the number that did designe to visit you at the time when he died. This poor Youth, who knew my sincerity, and to whom I had often protested that I abhorred nothing so much as Lovers, did his endeavour to free me from this person.

Don't you fool your self with this Woman, said he, she will afflict you too much. She is repulsed by Love, and has no reason to commend it: She will have no Adventures; and 'twould be a ve­ry difficult matter for one that should love her re­ally to accost her.

Du Buisson did nothing but laugh at this his advice; and though he was not perswa­ded of the cruelty of Ladies, he judged of my Heart by the Intrigues that I had received: And you may easily apprehend, Madam, that upon that account they ought not to believe me too severe. He asked the Earl d'Escha­pelles with a pleasant Air, where he had so well studied the Map of the World: and they, growing warm in discourse, laid a Wager, the one, that he would gain my Love before I was two Moneths older; the other, that he would never obtain it.

Whether the Earl d'Eschapelles did me sufficient Justice to believe that I should make him win without his Intreaties, or that he had engaged himself not to say any thing to me of the Wager, he kept his word with the Chevalier du Buisson, and I knew not one Syllable of what had passed between them; therefore I entertained this new Courtier ve­ry civilly, and accepted of his Complaisance, and Services.

He did not draw any trouble upon me on the account of his Uncle; for it could not [Page 200] well be, and my Papers were not in good form; but he seemed to have done his utmost, and that to me was as much as if he had succeeded. He did every day afford me some new Divertisement, and knew so well how to play his part, that I always believed he did it for some other person, and that others knew he did it for my sake.

This is not all; he affected the Grima­ces of a Prosperous Lover; he counterfeited the Mysterious and false Discreet one; he would depart from me assoon as it was ob­served that he was with me; and he was always taken reading one Letter or other, which he did hide assoon as he was discover­ed.

All this looked like something extraordi­nary; but in the interim he could not per­swade the Earl d'Eschapelles that he had lost. He would hear me say with my own Mouth, that I loved du Buisson; which was not like to be: for how could I make that acknow­ledgement? The Chevalier du Buisson had not as yet told me that he fancied me; and I said such dismal things before him both a­gainst Love and Lovers, that he durst not at­tempt that Declaration. Yet he would how­ever maintain the Wager; for he though without doubt it would be a disparagement to him to lose; or, it may be, he is of the temper of some other people in the World, [Page 201] who are almost as much pleased to be thought they are beloved, as to be so indeed.

What did this wily Youth do? He had some Letters whose hand did sufficiently re­semble mine, and which were very melting. He made the Earl d'Eschapelles believe that I wrote them; made use of some other elu­sions to make me come to the Tuilleries with him at suspitious hours. What shall I say, Madam? He play'd his Cards so cunningly, that the poor Earl was deceived by him, and convinced that he had lost.

There was a great deal of subtlety requi­red to cheat him thus; for, besides that he had a very penetrating Wit, he was not a Novice in all the Humours or Courses of du Buisson; and if the world say true, he was a Man able to read Lectures how to put tricks upon others: but for this bout he met with his Master, and he was never more firmly sa­tisfied of any thing than my private associa­tion with the Chevalier du Buisson.

He had perswaded him to make a great Oath to behave himself closely; and I think they might willingly have remitted his Wager upon that account. But which way? How could a man very familiar with me, and who saw himself deceived in his Confidence of me, be silent? He was not, Madam, and the first day that I was in private with him, he quar­rell'd with me for my Dissimulation, and [Page 202] acquainted me with all that I have said.

I did not believe at first that he said truth; he was naturally addicted to Raillery, and did affect it to his reproving me, to the end, as I think, that I might esteem it the better for that. I set my self a laughing, and I told him, that I was not so easily deceiv'd; but as he said nothing but what was too true, and at last we can distinguish Truth from Raillery, I began to believe him, and never was more astonished nor incensed.

Yet I knew not how to quarrel with the Chevalier Du Buisson: I was unwilling to ex­pose the Earl D'Eschapelles; besides, I knew farther, that those Gentlemen that succeed in their designes, take a pride in passionate and high Quarrels; and that if I should en­gage with the Chevalier Du Buisson, it would prove an Obligation rather than a Punishment. Whereupon I resolved to jeer him in publique, and thus I performed it. I was one day in the Kings Garden with a Country-Lady of Qua­lity, who lodged in the same House with me, and who brought me to this Promenade. Many of our Acquaintance were there also, and among the rest the two men that I was just now speaking of: They came both and ac­costed us, and I no sooner saw the Chevalier Du Buisson near me, but stopping very nimbly; To the purpose, Monsieur le Chevalier, said I, pray put me in minde when I am at home to tell you, [Page 203] that I love you; I have deferred the manifesta­tion of it too long, and I had saved you many a false Story, if I had considered on it, and de­clared it to you before now.

This, To the purpose, made them break out in­to excessive laughter, because it was to no purpose at all. The Chevalier seem'd very much perplexed; and I, to increase it the more, pursued, What, are you resolved then to be cruel? looking upon him tenderly. Ha! Monsieur le Chevalier, don't take upon you that Resolution; this would kill me absolutely: 'Tis sufficient that I love you, without loving you in­effectually. Believe me, Sir, Cruelty doth not well become your Sex; and I love you so much, that you cannot without Ingratitude refuse to love me a little.

I said all this with such an envious Accent, that the Chevalier was quite out of counte­nance. He would fain say somewhat, and asked very gravely, what ground I had for that Raillery; but to his mischance, the Earl D'Eschapelles looked upon him at that very in­stant, and he saw somewhat, I cannot tell what, that was so full of Drollery in his very Countenance, that he disengaged himself, and retreated in a great confusion.

Your Highness may well think, that they that remained there did not spare him in the least. He lov'd to Droll naturally; and whe­ther they were charitable to him, or that the [Page 204] Report of him was true, they said, I was not the first Woman whose Galant he falsely published himself to be. All persons were ra­vish'd to see a man of his name thus toss'd in a Blanket, and there was no kind of Jeer but was thrown upon him. He understood the major part of them, and took a very plea­sant course to repulse them.

He pretended to understand my Discourse verbally, and told them that talk'd with him concerning me, that we were at some vari­ance, because he could not finde in his heart to love me. I confess she is well shaped, he fur­ther added, and that she hath also a diverting Wit; but every man knows his own business best: a man cannot love all the world, and a man must needs have a great stock of Love, to become amorous of all that deserve it.

I did but laugh at this Discourse, and they that were inform'd of the truth of that Story, did so likewise; but all people knew it not: and there were some persons so weak, as to publish it abroad, that I doated on the Che­valier Du Buisson, and could not gain his Af­fection. Nay, I don't know whether they did not make me act some desperate thing thereupon: For the Death of a fine Woman, who arrived here the last Winter, had brought it in fashion; and perhaps they have honoured me so far, as to believe me dying by the Charms of this ingrateful person.

These Tales reached the Ears of a Gen­tlewoman, who, as your Highness shall under­stand, did not hear them indifferently. It was a pretended Prudent Woman, who had deceived some good souls; and as honest per­sons judge freely of others by themselves, she was looked upon as an extraordinary good Woman, and was generally so reputed.

She was very High-minded, and you could hear nothing in her Quarters, but the severe Remonstrances she made to all Women; and she favoured me with some of them. Do you judge, Madam, whether she made choice of a proper time, when I had newly learn'd an Intrigue of Love between her self and du Buisson, above a year before.

I smiled at the juncture of time; and ha­ving a minde to make it my divertisement, I said, Being so Charitable and Virtuous a Lady, methinks you have a strong Inclination to judge amiss of your Neighbours: I have been more fa­vourable to you; and whatever they have told me concerning du Buisson and your self, I would never believe a word of it.

You would have laughed heartily, Madam, if you had but seen how discomposed this Woman was when she heard her Lover na­med. She was at a loss, and in a great con­fusion, but soon recovered her self; and re­assuming her severe look, told me, she was sufficiently known, and feared not those Ca­lumnies; [Page 206] for that they would return upon the Heads of their Authors.

They that told me the Story knew it very well; and I did not think my self obliged to disguise it. I omitted not one Circumstance, and I put my counterfeit Prudent Woman into so high a Passion of anger, that she could dissemble it no longer.

She call'd me Ill-bred Detracting Woman, and I know not how many more Names, posting away in a fury out of my house, and sware that I should repent I ever had offended her.

I did but laugh at her Menaces, and made Monsieur de Lionne too laugh heartily, when I told him of our Conversation: But I was a Fool to make so slight of this business; we must not sport with such kinde of persons; and I learned soon after, to my own cost, that a Quarrel with them is not a Laughing busi­ness.

I told your Highness, that this person was esteemed a very Vertuous Woman; though they wronged her in so doing, as you may finde: but in the mean time, those that she had infected with this errour were pow­erful persons, and embarqued hood-wink'd in her Quarrel. She perswaded them that I led a dissolute Life, and that she had reason to upbraid me therewith. She accused me of having used her injuriously, which I did [Page 207] not so much as dream of; and without doubt, intermixing some piece of irreverence to­wards that which merits our Respect, she stir'd them up so highly against me, that thinking to do well, they became the very In­struments of her Revenge.

All the Informations that the deceased Lady d'Englesac had drawn up against me, in order to my destruction, he causeth Copies thereof to be taken out of the Office. They again set on foot the Slanders wherewith all our Proceedings did abound: The last Ar­rest of the Parliament at Grenoble was not forgot; and the Orders formerly obtained of the Queen-Mother were strangely recovered. I was amazed when the Chevalier du Buisson came and told me that they laboured for a new Order to clap me into a Convent, and were upon the very point of getting it.

You may imagine, Madam, said du Buisson, in giving me this Information, that I have no hand in the mischief they intend you. 'Tis true, I have had a little prejudice for you; and if I should well consider it, it may be owed you some still; but this does not extend to the extre­mity that they aim at against you.

I have done what I could to hinder it, though it has proved ineffectual; and they take so little notice of my entreaties, that I must di­spence with those Measures hereafter as ineffectual. See now what I can serve you in. I know a good [Page 208] way for you to revenge your self; and if you please, we will get such an Order granted for your Adversary as they would have against you.

I did not accept of his Proffer, as your Highness may imagine; for I had business of my own to defend, without employing my self in attaquing other persons. But I did seem to be obliged to him for his good will, and that made me forget all the causes of Complaint I had against him.

In the interim they sollicited the procu­ring of the Order against me very diligent­ly; and the Great Lord I mentioned before, did me all the disservice imaginable. I know not by what means my Counterfeit-she pru­dently discovered that he was not my friend; but in the end she had engaged him on her side; and I was certainly advertis'd that he wounded me most grievously.

All my hope was in Monsieur de Lionne; nor was it in vain, he had defended me generous­ly; for he lov'd what he lov'd extreamly, and did not take slight notice of those that injured their Reputation: But he was at Fontainbleau, where the Court then resided; and as I was making preparation to go and finde him out, I understood that he was come back to Paris very sick.

His Distemper was at first onely a Tertian Ague, and the Physicians did mock at them [Page 209] that asked if his Life was not in some danger: But 'twere to no purpose for them upon that account to deal with me en ridicule; Some­thing, I know not what, did foretel me the mischief that would befal me: And from the time Monsieur De Lionne fell sick, I durst have sworn he was on his Death-bed.

Ah! Madam, what a Loss was this to me? The Generous and Powerful Pro­tector which I had in this worthy Officer! I did not lament alone, for every one regret­ted his Loss; and it was the common Cry of the people, that Persons so Meritorious as he was should be immortal: But the truth is, there are so few of them, that it is not worth the while to make a Law purposely for them.

Assoon as his Death was known at Langue­doc, the Relations of the Earl of Englesac would not stand to their word in any thing they had promised him; they had agreed by their Writings to own my Marriage, and give me a reasonable Pension for Life. I was con­tent with Six Thousand Livres per Annum, and they were of opinion that I subscribed to reason herein; but when Monsieur de Lionne was dead, they did not think themselves obli­ged to pay me any thing. They said I was not the Earl of Englesac's Widow, and be­gan afresh their Persecutions and Calumnies.

I durst not make any further Addresses to [Page 210] the King, as I resolved to do coming from Grenoble; for I was afraid that my new contracted Enemies had bespatter'd me be­fore his Majesty. 'Tis probable I did ill to have such apprehensions, and it is to little purpose to entertain the King with so small a matter; but in the end I was possess'd with this phancy, that I would not expose my self to the vexatious Consequences they might have.

Then I took up a Resolution to go and see if I should not have better Success in receiving the Grant of the Lady de Sevil, than to pro­secute the Succession of the Earl of Englesac. I was at Paris without Substance or Allies; the Chevalier du Buisson did assure me, that they were ready to do me a prejudice, and the Heirs of the Marchioness of Sevil did get ground of me at Brussels by my absence. What could I do better than in going thither? Then I put my self in condition for that Journey; and, Madam, although many unhappy things befel me at Paris, yet I protest to your High­ness, that I left it not without some Sighs.

'Tis a Commodious and Charming Resi­dence; there are in other places, as well as there, Palaces, Promenades, and the like; but you finde only at Paris that freedom of Living which is there practised; which to my phancy is the most valuable thing in the world.

I had a mind to Travel by the Countrey of [Page 211] Artois, to see a Man of Business belonging to the Marchioness of Sevil, who I knew retir'd thither after her Death; from whom I hoped to draw very great and clear Discoveries. And this had like to have involved me in fresh Troubles, and procure me new Enemies.

My Hostess understood by my Servants that I took the Road to Artois, and begg'd of me to let a certain Female, who she said was a Relation to one of her Friends, have a place in my Coach, who had a desire to see her Husband, who was in the Garrison at Ar­ras.

I know not whether they had gain'd this Hostess by Bribes, or whether they had only deceived her; but, Madam, the person that she charg'd me with, was Madamoiselle de— who after she had secreted her self three or four Months at Paris, fled away Incognita, and was going to the Duke of — in Flanders. You have heard her History, Madam; for she made too much Bustle and Noise in the World, not to reach you ear. Do but think, Madam, in what a pickle I should have been, if this Maids Parents had taken me carrying her so privately from Paris; they would never have forgiven me this; and they are not people that will give grains of allowance to those they have no kindness for.

'Tis true, I was not long expos'd to this danger: for the Duke of — overtook us the [Page 212] second days Journey, and convey'd Mademoi­selle de— to a Castle of his own beyond the Frontiers of France.

I cannot tell how these two came acquain­ted at first: 'tis possible, that they who con­cealed this Gentlewoman at Paris, did not hide her from all the world; and that he had seen her in that Journey that he made not long since. Whatsoever it is, they seemed to me to be indifferent good friends; and ac­cording to my Judgement, I had brought, un­known to me, a Mistriss to her Lover.

I could not forbear laughing when I knew it; my good intentions took away all scru­ples; besides, Madam, I had many other things of concernment to trouble my head with besides all that came so: For this Duke— had forewarned me to have a care how I came into the King of Spain's Dominions, and that at Brussels they had obtained a Decree against me.

Certainly your Highness must needs be a­mazed to hear talk of a Decree; I was also ve­ry much surprized hereat; nor did I believe that I had committed any action that ought to come in question again: but one must be secure of nothing, and I am going to rehearse to you a Quirp in Law that you could never have devised.

The Heirs of the Lady de Seville had with­out doubt been at Counsel about their Case [Page 213] as well as I; 'tis to be thought that they were told that the Donation was in good form, and if they would contend with me, they must be condemned to pay Costs and Damages; they bethought themselves of a strange In­vention to hinder my enjoying of that Estate so given and granted.

I told you, Madam, that the Lady de Seville had charged her Gentleman to bring me a Cabinet, where I found some Jewels; and that he did so accordingly. This was done with­out any kinde of formality in Law. His Mistriss had intrusted in his hands this Cas­ket, and I also received it from him: I know not how they came to have some light of this Depositum; whether the Marchioness had told some person that she had sent me these Jew­els; or that I my self, who did not conceal the Present, had discoursed it before some people that had correspondence at Brussels. This news came to them on the wing, 'twas so speedily known. They said they had good ground for this Prosecution. For in cases of Legacies, or in other things of the like na­ture, which are to be received from the par­ty deceased, there ought to be a Declara­tion made thereof, or else it must be nomina­ted in the Will.

I had done neither; for I did not know it ought to be so; and I am apt to believe the Marchioness was as ignorant of it as my [Page 214] self. They alledged this piece of ignorance as a great errour in me; and got a Decree against this poor Gentleman for a Robber, and a Commission for Contempt, wherein I was also comprised.

I was never more abash'd, than when the Duke— told me that all this was Crimi­nal. I had not heard so much as any dis­course of it; and whether they gained on their side those that managed my business in Flanders, or surprized them unawares, I know not; but they sent me not a word of this whole Proceeding.

I confess, Madam, that I thought my Pa­tience had been quite lost; and when I found my self thus persecuted at Languedoc, in dan­ger of my person at Paris, and more than that, in greater peril at Brussels, I did murmur against my Stars more than ever I had done formerly.

The Duke de— did what he could to comfort me; he proffered me the assistance of his Reputation and Friends; and told me, that if I would be in a place of safety, I should be lodged in a Castle which was upon the Land of the Empire, and belonged to his Relations.

I did not accept of this last offer, being un­willing to be so shut up in a Country un­known to me; onely I entreated him to speak to the Heirs of the Marchioness, to see if there [Page 215] could be any way found out to reduce them to reason. He promised to do his utmost Ef­forts; and we concluded that he should send to me at the Country of Liege, where I re­solved to go and tarry in expectation of some news from him.

You know, Madam, that the State of Liege is a Country that's Neuter, and that they stand highly upon that Neutrality; but yet I durst not altogether confide herein; 'tis a neighbouring place to Brussels; my Enemies were of repute there, and I dreaded the treachery of some Magistrate. Therefore I would not declare my self openly, but went to the Spaw, it being then the proper season to drink Waters, as if I had been a French Lady to whom they had been prescribed.

Without dissembling, when I think of it, this designe of hiding my self did occasion much curiosity; and persons expose them­selves to very strange opinions, when they seem to conceal what they are.

That year the company at the Spaw was extraordinary: Monsieur the Count de Mar­sin was there, who knew me again; but was so faithful to me, as not in the least to dis­cover who I was. There was also the Prince and Princess of Nassau, and I know not how many Lords that were Strangers, together with an Abbess of a Convent in Cologne, who came of a very Noble House in Germany; [Page 216] and had with her two Religious Women, tt were very handsome.

All persons there did concern themselves to know who I was; and I am not able to tell you, Madam, the many harsh Opinions this created.

There was a Frenchman who did assure them, that I was Madam — that he knew me very well, and had seen me formerly at Paris. Another affirm'd, that I was her Mo­ther; and without consideration that if I were the one, I could not possibly be the other as to outward appearance, they laid Wagers, and came very ingenuously to intreat me to tell them which of the two had lost.

See, Madam, whether this was not a very reasonable Demand? And suppose that I had been what they took me to be, judge you whether I should have told them? I only laughed at their Folly, and said, that after the Season of drinking the Waters was over, I would decide the Controversie; but they went back very angry with me for my Si­lence.

This Wager was heard of by an English Lord, who came to the Waters also, and to whom Madam — is allied. He came to see me, and after he had sufficiently conjur'd me to put my whole Trust in him, and not to conceal my Name from him, as from an in­different Person; he told me the Degrees o [...] [Page 217] our pretended Alliance, and offer'd me a Re­treat in England.

His Generosity did touch me, and I treated him more respectively than those that laid th [...] Wager before-mentioned, and protested in in good faith, that I did not so much as know the Ladies he discoursed of. He would not believe me. I can't discover what he saw in me, to desire that I should take a Voyage to England; but he had undertaken to make me his Relation, and did torment me ever after to oblige me thereunto. I laugh'd at his Obsti­nacy, and for two or three days received suf­ficient divertisement thereby; but at last it did annoy me. I grew angry, and told my Lord, that he should learn to know me better; that I could not be guilty of such Actions as that person was accused of, and that I never had any Business like hers.

He thought, I believe, that the Honour of being his Allie, ought to wipe off all Misfor­tunes; he admir'd that upon those terms I refused to go under the name of Madam — and to make me ambitious of being so, he told me his Pedegree. I know not whether 'twas a Noble Family or no, for I am not acquainted with the Illustrious English Families; but if I would credit him, all the Lords of his Race were so many Heroes, and there was not one of them, but he forced me to hearken to his Elogie.

I told the Story that night upon a Green, where all the Wits meet together; and it was look'd upon as very pleasant, and they put the English Lord again upon the discourse of the Atchievements of his Ancestors. He told over the Story again; and every one that came into the company, desired to understand the beginning, so that they made him repeat the same thing at least ten times over.

This also afforded us another Divertisement. There was at the Spaw a rich Citizen of Liege, who would not change his condition with an antient Baron, and believ'd there was no bet­ter Title than the Privilege of a Citizen. He laughed at my Lord's vanity, and pretended to debase his Quality beneath that of a Ci­tizen. They quarrel'd; and as if their whole Nation had been contained in their persons, they had a million of Invectives against the Manners and Customs of their Countreys. I laughed heartily at this difference, as also did Monsieur Marsin, and the Abbess of Cologne; for we grew inseparable. The Abbess express'd an extreme Kindness for me: I lov'd her hear­tily; and we could not deny one another an entire Confidence of all the Secrets of our Life.

I will, one day or other, relate you her Story; I believe she will not oppose it; for there is nothing in it but what tends to her advantage; for she is a very rational and [Page 219] obliging person. Your Highness would love her too well if you knew her; and I am rea­dy to die with the desire of acquainting you with her.

During this Interval I received Letters from the Duke— who acquainted me, that the Heirs of Madam de Seville were inexora­ble; they would have the Jewels from me, and withal, that I must renounce the Dona­tion. I could on my part onely satisfie them as to the last Proposition; but as to the first, it was not in my power: for I had disposed of some of the Jewels; and though they had been all in my own hands, they could ne­ver have convinced me that I caused them to be taken; that had been almost the same thing as to condescend to the delivery of them; but I had no designe to commit that fault; for I would have defended them to the ut­most extremity.

I was never more disquieted in all my life, nor more perplexed. The season for drinking the Waters began to be over, and I was fearful of discovering my self to my E­nemies, if I should stay any longer at Liege, without some pretext or other. Monsieur de Marsin offered me very freely his Noble Ap­partment at Modave, where I did not question but to be very safe, since that Monsieur de Marsin was too considerable a person in the Low Countries for any person that lodged with him to fear any asault.

Well, Madam, I went thither: He had the goodness to conduct me himself, and my dear Abbess of Cologne was willing to go and pass away some time with me. She waited for a Coach to carry her back, that was not yet come, and thought she might as well ex­pect it at Modave as at the Spaw.

This house is one of the most charming and magnificent buildings that ever was seen. Here for some days I forgot all my troubles, and received very great consolation; for the Earl de Marsin had engaged to espouse my Interests; and I was sensible that there were few things at Brussels but what he could ea­sily bring to pass.

But, Madam, he soon stumbled at the ob­stinacy of my bad Fortune; and the first Letter I received from him did acquaint me, that I must expect no more favour from him; and this was the reason.

The chief Heir of Madam de Seville had newly married the Daughter of the Earl de Monterey Governour of the Low-Countries; and the alliance rendred him so considerable, that it was the same thing to oblige the Gover­nour himself, as to stick to him in his busi­ness.

Monsieur Marsin did greatly excuse him­self, and he seemed by the expressions in his Letters to be angry in earnest he could not serve me, and that was his real designe.

It was fit that my Female-friend should assist me with her Advice and Remonstran­ces, to make me bear this new Misfortune patiently. She seemed to take as great a share in it as my self; and conjured me, with tears in her Eyes, to make choice of some other kinde of Life than that wherein I had lan­guished for so long time. Are you not weary, said she, with fighting against Fortune? And do you think you can have more Patience than she Malice? You deceive your self if you believe so; for when Fortune resolves to persecute a per­son, she overcomes the most resolute.

She gave me besides abundance of Exam­ples, which prevailed much with me; and among the rest that of a King, who after he had lost his Kingdom, Liberty, Wife, and Children, without the tribute of one Tear, wept bitterly for the death of a Slave. And how came that to pass thinks you, pursued my Friend? It was not because that Slave was more dear to his Master than all that he had lost; but because his Patience was at an end, and he could endure no longer. It will ev'n be so with you one of these days: You have been hitherto strong enough; and your temper hath overcome all things; but in the end it will grow weak, and some fresh Mischief will befal you, which will make you sensible of all the rest, and drive you into de­spair. Do not wait for that extremity; retire with me into my Solitude, and come and shelter [Page 222] your self from those Storms that may befal you: Make some few Reflections upon all the accidents of your Life; and then consider how many Trou­bles you have run through, since you killed Mon­sieur de Moliere. There will be matter enough for a Voluminous Romance. Will you not at last be at rest, and put your self into such a condition, that neither Fortune, nor all your Enemies can possibly hurt you?

I wept when she told me this; we embra­ced each other tenderly, and I was sensible that she gave me wholsom counsel; but yet It was not in the humour to follow it: me­thought 'twas a shame to forsake the World, because I was unhappy; and I wished that my Retreat had been of my own choice, and not of necessity.

She laughed at my niceness, and told me it was a false pretext to tarry still in the world; that people seldom forsook it, when they could live happily; and if by any turn, which she did not foresee, I could accomplish my business, I would have the less desire to retreat to a Convent.

Methinks, Madam, that she told me true; and rightly to consider all things, I should ra­ther be in love with what Madam de Seville left me, than my Retirement; but this Gift was become very uncertain, and the Asylum that they offered me was a present Refuge. In fine, I accepted it, and it would be a [Page 223] hard matter to quit it if Fortune should prove more favourable.

The Coach of Madam the Abbess arrived according to her expectation, and we went together to Cologne: for, Madam, I had dis­miss'd all my Retinue assoon as I resolved to follow her advice and onely kept with me Me­rinvil. We travelled not the shortest way; the Abbess had some friends in the Canonesses Colledge that she had a minde to see in her passage, and who expected her coming with impatience. We stay'd there some time, and without doubt your Highness will be well pleased to know what we did; and I, Ma­dam, am resolved to tell you; but this Rela­tion requires me to take a little breath, and I beseech you to grant me that liberty. I have written a long time already; and I should fear disobliging the Audience with which your Highness honours me, if I should tire her with too prolix a Narrative.

THE ADVENTURES AND MEMOIRES OF Henrietta Sylvia Moliere. PART the VI.

ARe you not almost tired out, Madam, to hear me make such Complaints a­gainst Fortune? I am weary my self, and methinks I do not use to re­member them so much nor so often.

But, Madam, I must confess that she did treat me with great Cruelty, and that one cannot be more implunged in Troubles than I was at Modave, when I received that Letter from the Earl of Marsin.

I saw all my Hopes proved abortive Births; the Alliance of my Enemies with the Gover­nour [Page 226] of the Low-Countreys, made me dread some violence that would be offer'd me; and if I must confess all my weakness to you, I looked upon the necessity of my retiring to the Convent I was going into, as a new mis­chief.

Not because that I did not really love my Abbess; and that in any place but a Cloister I should have thought my self happy to have spent my days with her; but the word Cloi­ster startled me; and I had not yet forgot the Troubles that I went thorough in my antient Convent; nor could I beat it out of mind, but that I should always meet with as many in all the Convents that ever I should go into.

Yet I was foolish to nourish such Conceits; Fortune us'd me more courteously than I thought of; and I must acknowledge that I never prosper'd better, than when I follow'd the advice of the Abbess. But, Madam, I must relate all this to you in order; and be­gin, according to my promise, with the Ad­ventures of our Journey.

First of all, it was much longer than we judg'd it to be; for we were but yet at Mau­beuge, which our Abbess took in her way to see some of her Friends, when she received the News of the Disorders at Cologne, which your Highness is not ignorant of, and knows also how that the Inhabitants of that City deny­ed the Elector entrance within their Gates, [Page 227] who is also Prince of Liege, and depended upon the Power of the French King, who had promis'd him Recruits, and resolv'd to force them open.

This began a War in the Borders of Cologne, which made approaches dangerous for such persons as we were; and our Abbess was for­ced to stay at Maubeuge, till all these Troubles were somewhat appeas'd: she was much af­flicted at this stay, and whatever I could say to perswade her that she ought to extend her Permission to Travel as far as she could, she made me answer, that she had business at home, and nothing could fall out more vexa­tious, than to be so long from thence. I lo­ved her well enough to sympathize with her like a true Friend in all her Afflictions; but as for this, Madam, I must confess that I was but very indifferently concerned; for, as I told your Highness, I went to Cologne with regret, and the sojournning at Maubeuge be­gan to be full of Divertisement.

Madam, You know the famous Colledges in Flanders, and without doubt understand that the Canonesses, who compose them, make no Vows against Marriage, and admit of Conver­sation with modest Galantry, as if they were in the most splendid Court in the World. They write to them Notes and Amorous Ver­ses, and they answer them if they think it convenient; they are visited as if they inha­bited [Page 228] their own Houses, and receive their Visits in the Halls or Gardens, where they are observed by none but Ladies as Sociable as Vertuous.

In truth, all things are managed here with a prospect of Marriage, and the Quality of the Husband is most remarkable. But as often­times Marriages are propounded and not ac­complished; there are many lawful Addresses which in their consequences become simple Galantries, and differ only from an Amorous Intrigue, but by the Intention; of which every one passes his Sentence according to his Phantasie. One of the Ladies of Maubeuge met with such another Adventure as this, and when we came thither it was the general Discourse of the place. I will relate it to your Highness, because I believe it may divertise you; besides, Fortune has given me such a share therein, that I cannot tell you the History of my Life, without a word or two of it by the by.

Your Highness hath, beyond all question, heard talk of one called Don Antonio of Corduba, who had some Command over the Troops which the King of Spain maintained in Flan­ders, and was made Prisoner of War at the Campagne of the Isle. He was very much in Love with the Canoness I mention, and there was a stop to the Articles of their Marriage, when the War was declar'd between France and Spain.

I know not whether the Marquiss of Castel-Rodorigo, who was then Governour of Flanders, did believe, that time of War ought not to be a time of Rejoycing, and that a Married-man would Husband his Life better than a Batche­lor, or whether some other whimsie possessed him, which the Lovers never heard of; but he gave Don Antonio to understand, that he would oblige him by deferring the Consum­mation of his Nuptials, till the Campagne was over; and this Desire was cloathed in such Language, as would admit of no deni­al.

This retarding of the Match was very grie­vous to two persons that were agreed, that loved each other very passionately, and desired a long while the compleating of their Espousals; but they must be patient; for the Governours of Flanders are like so many Petty Kings as to Authority: and as in case of Marriages, one obstacle seldom comes unaccompanied; so not only Don Antonio was taken Prisoner, as I told your Highness already, but after the Conclu­sion he was sent to Madrid, where he was in great danger of losing his Head.

I never thoroughly understood what he was accused of; but I think it was because he espoused too much the Interests of Don Juan. Whatsoever it was, he was kept Prisoner, and had need of the assistance of all his Friends to save his Life upon this occasion.

There was a Rumour spread about Brussels, that he was dead; and they reported so many circumstances of his Death, that the poor Ca­noness believed them to be true, and mourned for him, as if she had really lost him.

She loved him sufficiently, to prefer him be­fore all that would court her to marriage: But this Love did not extend so far, as to make her to keep her self single all her Life; she soon thought of getting another Lover: And as she was beautiful, and one of the best Fa­milies in Hainault, she wanted not Suitors to supply that Vacancy. They talked of three or Four Marriages, as if they had been just ready to conclude; and this Bruit came to the ears of one called Don Pedro de Larra, who was the best Friend that Don Antonio had in the whole world. This Don Pedro had been the Confident to whom he had unbosomed him­self, concerning the Amours between his Friend and the Canoness; and was possessed with an opinion that his Friend would die for Grief, if he should return, and finde his Mistriss married.

Therefore he made haste to Maubeuge, and after he had blamed this Girl for her Ingrati­tude, he assured her that he had received Let­ters from her Lover, that he was upon the Way, in order to his Return; and that she would see him very speedily in greater Favour and more Amorous than ever,

She gave not much credit to these Assu­rances, but would needs see a Letter from Don Antonio, and that could not be done; for he was a Prisoner of State, and they sel­dom permit those that are so, to keep a cor­respondence with their Friends by Missives. Well, the Canoness still took her own course; and the officious Don Pedro, not knowing what to do to guard his Friend from the Mischief that threatned him, bethought himself of a very Comical Stratagem.

He was well born, and had a very large setled Estate; he seem'd to put himself in the number of Pretenders; and when he was admitted, he knew so well how to make obstructions to impede the Conclusion, (and that is no dif­ficult thing to one that will make it his bu­siness) that in fine, the Canoness was still a Maid when Don Antonio returned into the Low-Countries.

I cannot forbear smiling still, Madam, when I think on the Success that Crowned the good Intentions of this poor Man. He has said since that, that he was forced to expose himself to strange Violences, to dissemble the being a Courtier of this young Gentlewoman; and that by a Capricio, which he himself knew no reason for, he had a natural aversion for her. In the interim, Madam, he was so assi­duous, and behaved himself so passionately, that he was looked upon as a real Lover: and [Page 232] when at the return of Don Antonio he thought to have had the merited Applause for his Care, and a cessation of so rude a Con­straint, he found that his Friend had chan­ged his minde, and that he would not court her any more.

'Tis thought, that the Levity of the Ca­noness had disgusted him, and that he would not make her his Wife, who was so easily comforted at his Death: But he did not make use of this reason; and whether he durst not trust himself, and feared the declaring of it to her; or that he would carry all things fairly with the Gentlewomans Parents, who were persons of great Authority, he preten­ded that he believed Don Pedro was absolutely in Love; and saying that he would not be surpassed in Generosity, he added, That he yielded his place to his Friend without Re­luctance, and that he was very joyful to offer him this Sacrifice.

You would have laughed excessively, Ma­dam, if you had heard all the Compliments that passed hereupon. They were there when we arrived at Maubeuge; and I never met with any thing in all my Life more pleasant than this Dispute; for they strained themselves to the utmost speaking in the praise of the de­serving Canoness. They protested, that be­cause they were too real Friends to do any thing amiss, they therefore forbore the taking [Page 233] her away voiolently one from the other; and with these fine Discourses they both Intrigu'd themselves, and the poor Lady was in danger of living unmarried.

I told your Highness that her Parents were most considerable Persons. They were tired out to see her sported with at this rate; and being resolved that one of them should mar­ry her, things came to that height, that the Count de Monterey was forced to take Cog­nizance of it, and to endeavour their Reconci­liation.

To this end he sent several times to Mau­beuge, and I was a constant Testimony of the Messages that were sent: for I found this was a very pleasant Story; I implunged my self in it to divertise my self, and had so well gained the friendship of the Canoness, that she did nothing but what she first entru­sted me with.

This produced a very pleasant effect, Ma­dam; for as it fell out, he that was entrusted with the Charge of coming to learn the Sen­timents of this young Gentlewoman was Heir to the Marchioness of Sevil; and as we did always associate together, he saw me, and testified that he took delight enough in my Company. I knew him not to be what he was; for he went under the name of a Marquisate he had lately purchased; nor did he know me for the Lady d'Englesac; and I [Page 234] went for one of the Abbess's Nieces, and bore the name of her Family.

We put our selves, I know not how, to play upon the Intrigue of Don Pedro, and the De­ference or Accusation of Don Antonio. I said pretty tolerable things upon that subject, and in fine, such as were so pleasant, that the new Marquiss was much taken with my Conver­sation, and consulted how to bestow Visits on me in private.

I would not permit them, being fearful of attracting to me other persons, who might discover me; and I sent him word twice or thrice, that I was untoward or ill; but as he still pertinaciously prosecuted his designe, and to return him always one and the same answer had been to make a Mock of him, my Abbess told me, that I had no need to create me new Enemies; and was the first that sent me to receive this Gentleman's Visit.

Which was at the beginning serious enough on my part; and I think he had no great de­sire for a second, if I had continued my Talk; but he brought in the Discourse of the Count de Monterey very properly, and gave me such satisfaction of the absolute Command that he had over him, that I looked upon him as a Person fit to do me Service, and by whose means I hoped to raise a Counterbattery to balance the Favour of my Enemies.

Behold, I beseech you, Madam, if I did well in this, and if I was not Comically en­clined, to imagine that I could make this man act against himself. I have laughed heartily since that this Imagination possessed me; and it had been very well, if I had advanced the errour so far as to entrust him with my Affairs, and require his Protection. I was just ready to do it, and without doubt had done it, if he had not prevented me, and taught me with whom I entertain'd Discourse, before I was fully resolv'd upon what I had to say to him.

I have observed to your Highness, that I was not so cold in the conclusion of the first Visit as at the beginning; I became a little more sociable, and though I did not treat him like one of my intimate Friends, yet I made him believe at least, that in process of time he might be so; and gave him leave, without any great Importunity, to visit me at plea­sure.

He did not fail to make use of this permis­sion; for, Madam, 'tis most certain he found me according to his desire, and that his mi­stake caus'd more agreeable Effects in him, than mine did in me: He took upon him all the Commissions or Charges that could de­tain him at Maubeuge; he had always new businesses; and sometimes by the Canoness, with whose Intrigues he did very much en­tangle [Page 236] himself, sometimes for some accom­modation of two or three neighbouring Gen­tlemen. He knew how to manage his bu­siness so well, that there seemed to be no af­fectation in his Conduct; and he never for­sook our Society, but at such certain times when he could not see us.

This signified something more than I at present apprehended: for he had always his Eyes fixed upon me; his Glances were very passionate; he commended me highly; and when occasion was offered to talk of his set­led Estate, he always told me, that he had a Wife in a dying condition, and should be in a capacity very speedily to court a young Gen­tlewoman.

But, Madam, I did not apply all his dis­course to my self; and whether it was that I had so absolutely lost the Idea of all Lovers, that I took no notice of the management of their Passion, or that, being resolved to en­gage no more in Love, I flattered my self with the opinion that I should never again occasion it; I never fancied that this man had any kindness for me.

Yet he loved me with a most violent Pas­sion, as he gave sufficient testimony of it af­terward, and could not contain himself any longer from discovering it. This Conversa­tion was very delightful, and deserves to be exactly related to your Highness. I know not [Page 237] whether that very day I was more captiva­ting than ordinary; or whether our Flemish Marquiss did fancie so; but he expatiated a­gain upon the subject of my Beauty, saying, it was the effect of my Tranquillity: he pur­sued sighing, that he had not the like good fortune; for his Eyes had been divorced from sleep through Passion a moneth or therea­bout.

To which I replied, Is it because you are grown Amorous? not thinking that I had said the truth. He answered, that I guessed very well; and in effect he was the most tormen­ted with that Passion of any man living; and beginning to extend his discourse upon the Beauty and Merit of the person he lo­ved, he said so much, which he seem'd to apply to me, that I began at length to open my Eyes, and apprehend that I might be the Object of his Passion.

This suspition did much trouble me; for as I have said, Madam, I thought this man might be serviceable to me; and was very much disturbed to see that Love did again turmoil this business, as it had done so many other before.

Then I said all I could to perswade this Lover that a married Man ought not to trou­ble his head with Love-toys. He was of my opinion; for in that Country it was held a Maxime, that a Man ought to be faithful to [Page 238] his Wife; but he thought he did not owe so much fidelity to his own; for he swore he never loved her, and that he had never mar­ried her, but onely to support himself by the Authority of his Excellency in some of his Affairs, of which mine was one.

You may imagine, Madam, if you please, how much I was amazed at this his discourse. I made him repeat it more than once; and when by his frequent Repetitions I under­stood that it was my Enemy I talked to, I was as much surprized as I am now that he did not perceive it.

But he had other things in his head; he thought of nothing but his Love, and did not imagine that the confidence he reposed in me was in the Countess of Englesac. I found this Adventure so pleasant, that I could not forbear laughing, and that I must divertise my self therewith in spight of all the Vexa­tions that I foresaw might accrew to me there­by. He wished that I had been more serious in this matter, and said much in prejudice of my Jollity; but the more he talked, the more he provoked me to Laughter, insomuch, that he not being able to bear with my Mirth, and I incapable to forbear, he left me very much incensed, as I guess, because I did share so little with him in his Afflictions; and I went to seek my Abbess, to acquaint her with what had hapned to me.

I found her in a very bad humour to take delight in this Recital; for she had received news from Cologne, which touched her to the very quick: and here, Madam, I must give you a relation of some part of her History; I promised it you in the end of the precedent Book; and I have so satisfied her that she might really confide in your Goodness and Discretion, that she hath permitted me to acquaint you with her concerns, according as I thought convenient to discourse them. I must confess, Madam, that Love is an univer­sal Passion; and if there were onely need of Companions in Adventures to comfort them, I should not have been destitute of that con­solation: But I cannot be taken with such things as these; and the affliction of un­fortunate Lovers is a new Subject of trouble to me.

The Abbess I mention was one of this num­ber: She is of Germany; and the Ladies of this Climate are not accus'd of taking too much to heart the passion of Love. But she was of a more brisk Constitution than her Country-women usually are, and deeply in love with a neighbouring Lord who was design'd her Husband from her Childhood.

For, Madam, I must say this in her com­mendation, that no person exceeds her in Wisdom; and if the Commands of her Parents had not oversway'd her Inclinations, [Page 240] she had indisputably overcome them: But as all the world seem'd to approve of them, and that she foresaw no obstacle that could inter­vene, she yielded up her heart solely to him. The young Courtier had done as much to her; they loved each other most fervently; and every thing at first seemed so propitious to them, that there wanted nothing to con­summate their Marriage, but the arrival of her Uncle, who had a minde to assist at the Ceremony, and was gone to the Emperour's Court, to negotiate some affairs which I could never understand.

But, Madam, when a person is born for Adventures, 'tis to no purpose to contend▪ The Influence of the Stars is predominant▪ and when one thinks least of it, something falls out, which makes the most innocent and common business subject to a Romantick fate.

First; This Gentlewomans Father fell sick before the return of the Uncle so much ex­pected; he died of that distemper, and when he was dead, his Widow, who was then young enough, and Mistriss of a very grea [...] fortune, made it be noised abroad that she had had a long time a private Inclination to he intended Son-in-Law.

She disguis'd it at first with other pretences saying, That since the Death of her Husband she understood her estate better than formerly that that person was not a suitable Match fo [...] [Page 241] her Daughter; and that she had another in hand, who was a better fortune, and would be more suitable to her. But seeing that this was not look'd upon as a sufficient and valid consideration to break off a Marriage so for­ward, and the most considerable Relations of the party deceased did affirm, that he desired this business might be brought to a period, and that it ought to be accomplished; she re­solved to take another course.

The Uncle, who had been so long and so unluckily expected, was a very covetous man, and might be wrought upon to do any thing for lucre, and a person of great credit in the Family; for he was the only Brother of the person deceased: The Mother wins him by Presents and Promises; and when she saw him wholly at her devotion, they complotted to­gether one of the greatest Cheats that ever was, which your Highness, questionless, will not hear without astonishment.

The Old man had married to his second Wife a Widow, who had a very docile Child by her former Husband, and for whom the good man had a great Affection: This Boy was not rich, and his Father-in-Law was wil­ling that he should be wealthy, provided it were not at his charge: they resolved to put this supposititious Lover in the place of him that really affected the Lady; and by these fol­lowing Contrivances they arrived at their end.

They attempted what they could to pre­vail with the Girl by Remonstrances and Menaces, which were both unprofitable. She would keep her Fathers word; and the A­morous Mother was in fear every minute that she had performed it already. The Uncle, who was gain'd by the other party, was the first that advised her to prosecute her Reso­lution effectually; but he counselled her with­al to do it privately, and promised her both his Protection and Assistance therein. Your Mother, said he, will carry away a great part of the Estate of Inheritance; She may remarry, and so this Estate will go to another Family; therefore she ought not to be moved against you by a publique disobedience; and it was far better to bring her to her self by degrees, and not to let her know that the Evil is remediless, till she was pre­pared to understand it by many other things prece­dent to that confession.

The poor young Gentlewoman, who was not capable of Malice, and therefore belie­ved that all the world was incapable thereof as well as she, accepted with many thanks the advice of her Uncle, and left her self solely to his Conduct. He carried her to a House of his in the Country, and made her believe that she was much obliged to him for the pains that he took to obtain this leave of her Mother. He found out a Priest and a Nota­ry, and assured her that her Lover had no­tice [Page 243] to be there at the time appointed. He perswaded her that she must conceal her self carefully from the Servants of the house, for fear her Mother should get some intimation of what they were about; and for this rea­son made choice of the Night-season; and the Chapel wherein this was to be effected was made very dark. What shall I say, Ma­dam? this poor young Lady married the Uncle's Son-in-law in lieu of the person to whom she thought she was espoused; and as Chance does nothing by halves, there was al­ways some resemblance between them, nay there was very much; but above all, in their Voice.

This Change put upon her has somewhat in it so much above what is ordinary, that it will seem fabulous to those that know not the Original, as I do; or who do not rely upon my words in some measure, as your Highness doth. In the interim, Madam, nothing is more real than the story I am about to tell you: But why should I fear being believed by you? you knew particularly a famous Abbess of France, who had the same Misfortune: in truth she that I speak of, told me the Deceit took not so deep impression in her as in the French La­dy; for she owned her supposed Spouse assoon as she was going out of the Chappel, and nothing more passed between them two. But here too much had passed already for a ver­tuous [Page 244] person, and one that naturally feared all Adventures like death it self.

I cannot recount to you, Madam, all the Complaints and Regrets of this unfortunate Lover, when she discovered their perfidi­ousness. She called her Uncle Cheat and Dissembler a thousand times one after ano­ther. She blamed her self for her own sim­plicity: she accused her Stars of injustice; and above all, afflicted her self with the suspi­tion she had that her Lover would conclude her faithless.

She would willingly have prevented this, by acquainting him with the truth of things; but they denied her that liberty. It may be they had hopes in time to calm her; and that nothing might traverse this hope of theirs, she was not permitted to associate with any person whatsoever

In the mean while, Madam, you may very well suppose that her private Rivaless was not asleep. She had found out some people who were wicked enough to assure her Lover that his Mistriss had fully consented to the Mar­riage; that they were Witnesses thereof; and that she lived with her Husband as the most tender and passionate Woman in the world. These false rumours produced all the expected effects imaginable. This poor man was in Despair; and the Amorous Mother, thinking to take advantage of this favourable oppor­tunity, [Page 245] did not fail to cause some Propositions to be made to him upon her own account, as to her self.

They were set off with the fairest gloss that could be invented. She said that the Inconstancy of her Daughter did strike her with horror; and that it was to make some kinde of Reparation that she proffered this betray'd Lover both her Person and Fortune. All the world knew very well that she had openly declared her self against him, and she could not deny it; but she said, that at last she did yield to the perseverance of both these Lovers: That she was now in balance, her Daughter being gone; and that she was much troubled she did not give her time to determine that business.

But, Madam, she might say and do what she would, the Lover still was Amorous of his Mistriss; and if he were grown desperate to see himself thus betray'd, yet it was a tender Despair, and not a brutish and vindi­cative Resentment.

Two moneths compleat were elapsed in this manner, during which time, our new-married Gentlewoman, who was not, for all this, the Wife of her Husband, did so feeling­ly represent unto him the remorse that an honest man exposeth himself to when he ex­erciseth violence upon a Woman's Inclina­tions, and that he abuseth a power that is [Page 246] not lawfully given him, that he conceived a kind of horrour within himself for the action he had done, and resolved to make repara­tion for it by all possible means.

The new-married Man was, as I acquain­ted your Highness, a kind of tractable Youth, and well enough principled, who demonstrated more Obedience than Malice in all these Transactions. His Father-in-Law proposed this Cheat to him, and he acted it without prying into the consequences that might fol­low; but when he saw apparently that he should make a person very unhappy, and lead his life with a woman from whom he could expect nothing but Complaints and Reproaches, he freely set his hand to the rupture of the Marriage; and leading his Wife into a Convent, whereof one of his Aunts was Abbess, and she her self became Abbess afterwards, they parted the best friends in the world.

This Retreat made a great noise through­out the whole Countrey where 'twas trans­acted: the cause was at last known; and the Lover making haste to clear up the truth, no sooner understood the innocence of his Mistris, but thought to bring her back with him, and at last to conclude that Marriage which had been so often crossed.

But she had an insuperable reluctancy to see that she had two Husbands at once; he might [Page 247] talk if he would, and say that he did not be­lieve her to be Wife to the first, and that he would remember that Adventure only to en­hance her estimation with him: She said that all the world would not be of his opinion; and continuing firm in her Resolution of making her self a Nun, they converted their Love into such innocent and endeared Friend­ship, that it cannot be too much admir'd.

One day they would have married the man I am talking of; and the Religious Woman newly entred, who judged this Match might be advantageous, advis'd him to accept of it. I shall see you then with less scruple, said she, for I shall never possess your whole heart. And though mine be replete with none but innocent desires, and that I believe yours are the same; Methinks an honest Wife, and one that should love you well, would better suit with this Innocence: and this is a Caution we should do well to give one another. You have a sufficient one in the Character of your Soul, Madam, said he, and in that that you have been able to imprint upon my esteem of you; I look upon you with admiration, which permits me not to love you like another woman: and judge you, Madam, if it be not with justice that I make such a difference be­tween you and others. I have found you tender, not weak. You have seen your self basely betrayed without Despair. You have quitted one Husband, and he ne'er complains [Page 248] of your Conduct; you have driven one Lover into Despair, and yet he cannot reproach you in the least; and by a Priviledge granted from Heaven to you onely, you are a Wife, Lover, and Nun, without failing in any of your Duties. How can I know you so well, and suffer any vacant place in my Heart for another Woman to sup­ply? Madam, don't ordain me to marry an ho­nest person; and one that could love, without doubt would complain of her Choice; and in the humour I am in now, I should look upon my self as very unhappy, if I should not make may Wife absolutely happy.

This was the delicate and passionate Gen­tleman that was wounded at the siege of Cologne; and that I found the poor Abbess drown'd in the Tears he had so well merited, when I came to acquaint her with my last Ad­venture.

She was so pleased herewith, that she made a Truce with her Grief, for a small time, to give ear to it. And as my Stars will create me Lovers and Suiters everywhere, she gave me Relation for Relation; and told me that Don Pedro was also grown in Love with me.

I perceived no such thing, and I did not believe the Abbess when she told me this news. But, Madam, I could not by any means question it afterward; for as she went for my Aunt, and that he believed I was committed [Page 249] to her Tutelage, he addressed himself to her, discovered his Amours, assuring her that he had but an Honest and Lawful Designe.

This did not take much with me; for, in the humour I was in at that time, I did as much detest a Lover under the name of a Husband, as under any other form. But I thought I stood in need of all the world, and feared some dreadful effects of our Marquiss his Resentment, if he came to discover the cheating trick that his Heart had play'd him.

Therefore I treated his Rival more civilly than I should have done, if I had followed my own Sentiments; and as that did some­what confine my Spirit, and did not willing­ly admit of Courtiers, or else did divertise my self by turning what they said into Ri­dicule, I often revenged my self of this con­straint by the Questions that I put on my part, and by the Person that I made him re­present.

He was engaged very deeply in many of my particular Concerns, and told me all the ways that he made use of to deprive me of the Requests of the Marchioness of Sevil. This put me upon it to ask him sometime or other some news of my own; and you would have laughed, Madam, sufficiently, had you but heard how I persecuted him on this Subject.

He knew nothing of them, as your High­ness may imagine; but I pretended that he did; and that it was out of mistrust or de­fiance that he would not acquaint me there­with. He would not let me continue long in that opinion; and giving me a relation of the first Adventure that he could call to minde, he put me in thoughts of the most pleasant things in the world.

I remember that one day he made me walk in Man's Apparel, in I know not how many Towns in Italy, and gave me several Adven­tures which are known to befal a fair Lady of great Quality; for whom certainly I could not be mistaken.

He told me one among the rest which was very pleasant, and would agree with me well enough if I were detained in a Convent where I should give my self over to wearisomness, and tire the people with looking after me. He said that the Lady whom he would have me to be, loved Hunting extreamly, and was very much disturbed if she passed the Season without Hunting; for it must be about that time that she entred in Religion. She com­plained of this her trouble to a Gentleman of Quality, who found out the way of seeing her at the Grate, and who, as 'tis reported, was a little concerned. He sent her a live Hare, and some Dogs for the Chace. I know not, Madam, whether, this Hare did escape [Page 251] from the place where she was looked after, or whether there was in all that as great a malice as desire to hunt; but this Hunting-bout was at Midnight; and the Nuns were in their deep sleep, when as they heard a noise of Dogs and voices in their Dormitory, which were taken for a company of Hobgoblins or Spirits, and put them to the greatest fright that ever they were in before.

Poor Girls! They could not but be much terrified indeed; and such a horrid noise as this must prove a very strange awakening in a morning to Nuns, when fast asleep. Our Marquiss would needs perswade me, that this Folly brought many troublesom businesses up [...]on me; and you had laugh'd, Madam, be­yond measure, had you beheld with what In­genuity he did assure me that all this befel me.

He presented me with such Comedies day­ly, and I contributed as much as I could to cherish him in his errour; for the Siege of Cologne continued still, and it was now more difficult than ever to enter into that City, without running a great deal of danger: Therefore I conceal'd my self from the Mar­quiss with great care; but, Madam, when Chance intermeddles with business, 'tis in vain to be precaution'd against it: and I was discover'd by the most unexpected Accident in the world, which I could not possibly avoid.

I told your Highness, that passing by Lyons, I met with a Friend of mine, who was a Pen­sionaress in the Convent of the Ladies of St. Peter, and that she had no more reason to commend Men than my self. I must shew you some cause she had to complain of them. For besides that I have still a designe herein to discover the Levity of Mankind, and that I abhor it too much to speak favourably of it; this little discovery, or clearing of the thing, seems in my opinion necessary for the under­standing of the ensuing Discourse.

She was formerly deeply engaged with a Frier Minorite, who following the custome of most Young-men, repented of the Promises he had made her, and would fain have disen­gaged himself of them. This was the occasion of many Suits at Law between this person and her Lover; and because she was overthrown in them, she retir'd from the world, and put her self into the Convent, where I told you I met with her.

She seem'd to me resolv'd never to go out of it as long as she liv'd, and I did very much encourage her in this resolution; for though I love not a Convent, I finde that they are very happy Receptacles for those that fancy them; and I advise all persons to enter into them, who can dwell there without great Reluctan­cy.

I had often very earnestly perswaded my [Page 253] Friend to take this course, and thought she had done so; for she did satisfie me at my departure that she would: But, Madam, when a Woman makes so great a progress as to love in earnest, and that a man is satisfied she doth so, this goes a great way in the business.

This very Lover that she knew to be so in­constant and so insincere, found out (by what means I know not) a way how to see her again, and there was wrought an Accommo­dation between them. He told her he had done nothing but out of policy, and in obe­dience to his Tutor, which he could not avoid; but that withal he well understood his own Duty, and would be no ways wanting there­in, when he should become absolute Master of his desires.

This poor Gentlewoman believ'd him, and he recommenced his former familiarity; and because that by reason of what had passed she durst not see him publickly, she sometimes went out of her Convent, pretending busi­ness, and they met and had their private walks together: Yet they could not be so private but that the Parents of the Gentlewoman had some intelligence of it, and that did very much irritate them; for this man had treated her very ill, and she did her self a great injury in seeing him again.

Therefore her Parents did lye in wait to ensnare them, and surprised them at a Rendez­vous [Page 254] appointed by them in the Spring-Gardens near Lyons; they had a minde to take away their Childe by force, and threatned her with no less punishment than to starve her between four Walls. The Lover did very vigorously oppose their designe, and he deserves to be commended for this action eternally. He kill'd a man in defence of his Mistriss, and was so violentlty prosecuted for this man's death, that he was forced to absent himself and go to Flanders, where his Mistriss came to him, and hoped to make him give her re­paration for all his past Faults. He did pro­mise her very seriously to do it; I know not whether he was as good as his word. But in fine, they were in Flanders, and she was carried by a Gentlewoman with whom she had got acquaintance in that Country, to see the Colledge of Maubeuge.

I was at that time walking in one of their Gardens, where they entertain Company, with my two Lovers, and five or six Canonesses. This imprudent woman, knowing me before I took notice of her, ran to me with open Arms, crying out, I am not mistaken, 'tis the Lady d'Englesac; which strook all the Com­pany with the greatest admiration imagina­ble.

My Name was very well known in Flan­ders; and the Suits that I had about the In­heritance of the Marchioness of Sevil, were [Page 255] as yet very fresh in the Memory of all per­sons. The Canonesses with whom I was, were not unacquainted with them; they were infinitely surprized at what they heard, and one of them ran and told it to some others that were walking not far off. It was soon understood in the Colledge what obliged me to conceal my self. I would fain have per­swaded them that this woman was mistaken, and made signes to her to say as I said; but she was too long before she apprehended me, and the Action was too natural to leave the truth of the thing questionable.

Do you but imagine, Madam, the astonish­ment of the Marquiss, when he had reason to believe I was the same Lady d'Englesac that he had so much persecuted; and the Combat that was in his Heart between his Love and all that should tend to his Destru­ction. You might easily guess at his agita­tion or disturbance by the changing of his Countenance: I never saw a Face carry more discontent in it, and I expected some terri­ble effect of his Transport, when I saw him turn his Back upon us, and depart so rudely out of the Garden, that I had not so much time as to exchange one word with him.

I was troubled that he left us thus, and would willingly have made an Essay how he stood affected towards me, before he had seen any person that might have incensed him a­gainst [Page 256] me. I desired Don Pedro to go after him, and to bring him back to me if possi­ble; but he could not finde him; for he had taken Horse, and it was not known till a long time after what was become of him.

You cannot believe, Madam, the noise that this accident made at Brussels. Maubeuge, as 'tis probable you know, is not far distant from thence, and there is great Communication between both these Towns; for many Ladies of Maubeuge have their Families at Brussels, and make it their Winter-quarters. They soon knew that the Marchioness de Meneza, which was then known to be the Countess of Englesac, was in that Country; that she had sojourned there for some time under an imaginary Name: and as those people who make it their business to poison all things with the virulency of their Tongues, do not stop half way, they assigned several causes of this my Disguise, which I never so much as thought of, and indeed was certainly incapa­ble of dreaming any such thing.

The absence of the Flemish Marquiss did help to render these rumours more dange­rous. The Earl of Monterey was angry with him, because he went away without taking leave of him. His Lady was so vexed at it, that she grew worse ill than ordinary, and they looked upon me as the cause of all; for they began to reason and argue upon his [Page 257] being so long at Maubeuge. It was well known that he visited me as often as he had an op­portunity; and when they saw him thus de­parted almost half desperate, and without pro­secuting any of his Suits against me, they guessed at one part of the Truth, and his Pa­rents wish'd me very ill for it.

My Abbess and I did imagine with reason that we must steal our selves away from their Resentments; and we also apprehended that the Ladies of Maubeuge were discontented that this Comedy was acted among them; but we knew not how to get from them: for this was the time when the French King made War against the Hollanders, and all these Coun­tries were over-run with Souldiers, some be­ing put into Maubeuge for its safeguard, to hinder the Enemy from insulting.

Upon this consideration we durst not ex­pose our selves to pass through so many Troops unknown; and much less required Guards or Pasports under our Name; for I feared some ill turn from the Heirs of the Marchioness of Sevil; and my Abbess had the goodness to believe upon my account, as if they had been her own.

The Love of Don Pedro was hereupon a great help to us; for Don Antonio of Cordu­ba was at last reconciled to his Mistriss, and resolved to consummate the Marriage. This left Don Pedro entirely to me; and I was not [Page 258] less acceptable to him when I was the Lady d'Englesac, than how as Niece to the Abbess of Cologne. On the contrary, I think that I pleased him better, and that he framed within himself such Idea's of my person since he knew me, as rejoyced him more than those he had when he knew me not.

Hereupon he came very obligingly, and proffered us a Castle for our Retreat in a Country that was Neuter, and his Guard to conduct us. I confess, Madam, that this of­fer did not a little please me, and that in spight of my scornful humour; I knew then that I had really touch'd the Heart of Don Pedro. We did accept of his Retirement with satisfaction, and his Conduct also, and had all the reason in the world to be pleased therewith at the very first; for the Castle whither he led us was very pleasant, and we arrived there without any accident. It be­longed to a Lord of Liege, one of his Friends, who was then near the Prince of Liege, and had a very great Employment that fixed him there, who had left there two Sisters and one Relation, who seemed to be very rational persons.

Don Pedro leaving us with them, return'd for Brussels, where his Duty obliged him to be; but promis'd to come and revisit us assoon as he could, and in the mean time to inform us of all News, wherein I was in the least con­cern'd.

I heard none but what was troublesome; for, Madam, the absent Marquiss was dead since our departure; and they wish'd me as much prejudice upon the account of his Death, as if I had murdered him. Alas! I could not contribute much to it; for, Madam, if you remember, the first time that her Husband spake to me of her, he told me she was threatn'd with sudden Death: But they had intercepted I know not what Letter which this man had sent to me at Maubeuge, wherein he made, as they report, great Protestations of Love to me. This woman was jealous hereat, and they would have this to be the cause of her Death, rather than the mortal Disease which had seized upon her a long time before.

This Letter so surpris'd, created two or three bad effects. For the Love of the Mar­quiss pass'd for currant, which at first was only suspected upon very weak grounds. They supposed, and that is seldom wanting in De­tractors, that I had entertained him either with Favors or Hopes. This did again cloud my Reputation de novo; and that which pro­ved worse in the consequence was, that Don Pedro seeing he had a declar'd Rival, and un­derstanding that the Death of his Wife made him sole Master of his Actions, he fear'd some Enterprizes, and hereupon made me be kept up in this Castle, like a Prisoner.

I did not perceive any thing of this; for I [Page 260] seldom went abroad; and if I did, and had spied any Souldiers, I should have look'd upon them as our Protectors, and not our Goalers. Thus I patiently waited for the end of the War at Cologne, and according to the gayety of my own Humour, I only sought after some company among the Ladies of Liege, to com­fort up my self in these new troubles that befel me. I told your Highness that they were per­sons very rational; and they proved so indeed. They had been educated at Brussels, where the Gentry are very polite, and endeavour to imitate their great Lords. They were more witty and pleasant than usually the Women of Liege are; and his Niece, above all, was the most Complaisant and Mild Person that ever I was acquainted with; her Name was Ange­lica, and her Mother was the Confident of the Amours of the Duke — Uncle to the de­ceased person last mentioned, and of the Countess of — This Gentlewoman and I contracted a very firm Friendship; and she sometimes gave me an account of what she had learn'd from her Mother, concerning this Love I am discoursing of. Without any fal­lacy, Madam, these two Lovers must needs love each other very passionately; and I won­der that their Love continued not as long as their Life. They had a secret pre-apprehen­sion, which advertis'd them of their Arrival, a long time before they saw one another; and [Page 261] you may judge, Madam, if you please, whe­ther or no this Precognition was just?

The Duke became jealous of the Earl of — who was indeed very amorous of the Countess, and known to be one of the best-shaped men in the world. She did not love him; and whatsoever is said of it, Angelica has vow'd to me, that Madam de— loved the Duke de— only; but he was not so well satisfied with his good fortune as he ought to have been; and being dayly infor­med that his Rival was very assiduous and passionate, he resolved to question him for it privately, and to that purpose came to Brussels incognito.

At this time there was great Joy for the Birth of a Prince born in Spain, named Bal­thazar; the Duke was not ignorant thereof; For what Man of his Quality is there that un­derstands not those things? He knew there­fore that upon that occasion there would be great rejoycing in those Countreys, for the King of Spain is their Soveraign. Therefore he believed this a very favourable time for his designes; came to Brussels unknown, as I said before, the better to deceive his Mistriss; and wrote to her that he was going from France a Journey quite contrary to that.

At his arrival, he lodged in a very retired place; and Fortune favouring him in all things, he understood that several Lords of that [Page 262] Countrey design'd an Indian Mascarade, and went in that Disguise to the Apartment of the Countess de Cante-Croix, where there was to be a very numerous Assembly: he procured the sight of one of those Habits, nor was there any great trouble in that; for there were no orders that they should not be shewn; and made one just like it, who intermixing himself with these Maskers, entred with them into the Hall, where they danced.

There he saw Madam de — who ap­peared more beautiful in his eye than ever; and Monsieur the Earl of— just by her; for he was always there at such Meetings; and she could not hinder him, because of the Reve­rence that was due to his Quality. I believe, as the Gentlewoman of Liege said, that Ma­dam de — was importuned by that Man; and they pretend that at that very time her Discourse did very much trouble him.

But, Madam, if she had been very pleasant with him, the Duke de — could not have been a witness thereof; for assoon as he came in, the Countess felt such a kinde of emotion within her, as she used to have at his Ap­pearance. She could not believe it a mistake; and notwithstanding what her Lover had sent to her concerning an intended Journey, she search'd very diligently for him among me Maskers, that at last she discovered him.

This did very much noise the business a­broad; [Page 263] for the Passionate Lady for joy at first of seeing him again, could not dissemble her Sentiment: And the Lover himself was likewise so much transported, that he forgot the reason he had to conceal his love. I will not tell you his Reasons, for all France knows them, and therefore you cannot be ignorant of them. Besides, Madam, I tell you all this onely en passant, and because 'tis to the pur­pose.

I saw the Original of one of the Duke's Letters, upon this effect of Sympathy, which in my opinion was one of the most curious things that ever was penn'd. He complained of the excess of his good Fortune; for he did confess it was a very great happiness to be thus found out by his Mistriss: but said, that this deprived him of the pleasure of see­ing what was then in her Heart, without her desire to shew it him.

These kinde of discoveries were in his o­pinion one of the greatest Joys that a Lover could be sensible of; and nothing appeared more moving to a noble Soul, than these Ef­fluxes of Tenderness and Sincerity, where neither Art nor Precaution can be suspected to bear any part.

I cannot, Madam, express all this to you so well as it was done in that Letter I men­tioned. To do this exactly, I should produce the Letter it self; but that is imposible: for [Page 264] besides that Angelica kept it up very cautious­ly, I had then so many businesses befel me, that I found no time to spare in other persons business.

Cologne was besieged, as I told your High­ness, and I question not but you have been informed thereof by other hands. The Siege was obstinate enough at first; but at last they were forced to condescend to whatever their Prince would propose. Thus the taking thereof put a period to the War in those parts, and our Abbess was once more permitted to travel.

And she was the more impatient, because her Friend that was Wounded was still very ill; and that she thought if she came in per­son to assist him in the Cure, she should soon see him recover his Health. Therefore she made very speedy preparations for her De­parture: But, Madam, we were much sur­prized, understanding by an Officer that Don Pedro sent to us, that she was not to take me along with her, and must resolve to go without me, or else to continue there a long time in the Country of Liege.

Do you but guess, Madam, how much we were amazed at this Compliment; and we wondred at nothing more, than that this should come from Don Pedro himself; and though I was perswaded that he loved me, and through Polity I had flattered that very [Page 265] Affection of his with some hopes, yet he e­ver appeared to me so civil and respective, that I could never entertain a thought of such an Enterprize.

Nor could I believe that it was done by his order; nay I told the Officer he sent, that it was he that detain'd us thus to have some Reward, and that he should be severely pu­nished for it according to his Demerits; but he had his Orders in writing, and brought one also with him from the Lord of the Castle, whereby he commanded his Sisters to let Don Pedro have an absolute power in his House, and not to oppose him in any designes.

Therefore 'twas in vain to complain to these poor Ladies of the violence that was offered us; they could not any way remedy it, but seem'd as much concern'd at it as we our selves. Our Abbess made a very great bustle that she was thus treated, and threatned to complain of Don Pedro to the Governour of the Low-Countries, and bring this Busi­ness, if there were occasion, even into the ve­ry Council in Spain: But they said they did not detain her, she might depart when she thought convenient; and that they would con­duct her as far as Cologne if she desired it: that it was onely I who was to be stopped, because Don Pedro loved me too violently to suffer me to escape out of his Clutches with­out some assurance of my Friendship; that [Page 266] he would be there very suddenly in person, and endeavour to receive a testimony thereof; in the mean time I was as secure in the House, as in a Convent at Cologne.

But the Abbess was not well satisfied here­with; she could not resolve to forsake me, and expose me thus to the desires of a Person both Amorous and Absolute: Nay, she seem'd to have such a Combat within her self, between this Generosity and the business that called her home, that I thought an hundred times to conjure her to depart, and leave me to the conduct of Fortune; but this very Fortune labour'd for me, when I never thought of it, and drew me out of these evils, as she had done out of many others.

Angelica, of whom I have already spoken, did not dwell always with her She-Cosins; for she had a Mother at Liege, and came to this House only to spend some Moneths there in the Summer-time. A young Brother of hers came to fetch her at that time, when we re­ceived this Message from Don Pedro; and this poor Gentlewoman was so moved with Com­passion for my Trouble, and had so great a Kindness for me, that she endeavoured my Escape.

She had a great Influence upon her young Brother, being much his elder; and he re­spected her as highly, as if he had been her own Son: she made him condescend to lend [Page 267] me his Cloaths, and continue there in mine, till she could send him some other Garments.

The poor Boy dreamt of no other Mystery in this, but only a Trick of Youth, to make some sport, and create diversion: he was very young and unexperienced, and therefore without any more ado consented to his Sisters desires; and all things being firmly agreed upon between our Abbess and our selves (for you may judge, Madam, that I did not do it without her knowledg) I dress'd my self up one Morning with the Young-mans Apparel, and stood at the Door with Angelica, as if I had been that very Brother of hers, who they knew was to have her back with him.

It was then very early, and there was no Order to detain any one but me; the Gentle­woman of Liege was strictly examin'd, whom they knew very well; and they did not minde me, because they took me for a Boy, and knew there was one to go along with her. What shall I say, Madam? we went out of the Castle very happily under this my disguise; and by the conduct of an old Gentleman that belon­ged to Angelica's Mother, who came with her Brother, and was well acquainted with the way. We went to one of Baron de Roste's Houses, who is a great Lord of Liege, to whom Angelica was of Kin, and whole Protection she depended upon, to conduct me to Cologne.

I could not cease giving thanks to this ge­nerous [Page 268] Maid, and blessing Heaven that I met with her so fortunately. We travell'd with circumspection enough; and I for my part was somewhat troubled that I had left Merinvil with the Abbess, for fear she should discover me: but we could not forbear laughing at Don Pedro, who might arrive that very day, and would be much startled to finde his Jour­ney unsuccessful. We were informed since, that it fell out so as was expected; and that he was transported with anger when he under­stood by the Abbess that he must not expect me there. He did and said abundance of ex­travagant things; he would needs kill the persons that had so ill guarded me, and had almost lost all respect to the Young-man that lent me his Cloaths. But after all this, he was forced to take it patiently, and frequent the fair Ladies in Brussels, to comfort him for my loss. He had a minde to send after me, to quarrel with me; but besides that he knew not the way we took, there was somewhat else to be consider'd, that violences are not com­mitted unpunished in Countreys that are Neu­ter. And if he should undertake to force me away publickly, some persons or other, to maintain their Priviledge, would endeavour to hinder him. All that he did was, he de­tained Angelica's Brother with his she-Cozens, to see if they would not send to seek him, and if by that means he could discover where I [Page 269] was: but that precaution did us more good than he imagined; for we could not tell what to have done with that Young-man, if he had been with us. Well, I came to the Baron de Roste's without any Accident, Madam; and though he was not then at his House, and that one would think should somewhat trouble us; We were so well entertain'd by his Mother, who was there, that we perswaded our selves we might wait his return without impatience. He was gone but to Namurs, which is not far from this Castle; the business that carried him thither was almost over, and he was daily expected. Angelica concluded that I must only be discovered to him; for women at the age of the Baroness are often too severe upon such Enterprizes and Disguisements, and the Gentlewoman of Liege was afraid of being blam'd by that good Lady.

But I think her fear was groundless; for the antient Baroness understood the world well, and they found she had not always lived in the Countrey. She was of Brussels, and one of the greatest Ornaments of that place, when Monsieur the Prince was there. She would sometimes tell us the Intrigues and Ga­lantries of that Court; and among other things, that Marigny was one of her intimate Friends, and they still keep a Correspondence together by Letters. I ever phancied this Mans Stile, and testified so great a curiosity to [Page 270] see some of his Letters, that the Baroness obliged us so far as to satisfie it. I was men­tioned in two or three; for they were all a kinde of Gazette of the most considerable Oc­currences that passed at Paris and the French Court, and he had honoured me with one place in his Relations. They were not too true, nor too charitable; but I found them throughout so full of pulse and vigour, that I believed such a man as he was capable of any thing, and that his Malice must be par­doned in favour of his Expressions. In the last Letter, Madam, I met with a piece of news that did very much disturb me, and I am sure will trouble your Highness likewise; that is, that the poor Countess of Susa was sick of an incurable Distemper, and that she was looked upon as a dead woman. In truth, Madam, 'tis great pity that this person should die so soon: She was a very Ingenious per­son, and frequently composed Amorous Ver­ses.

While we thus entertained one another in discourse, on a sudden we espi'd a man on Horseback pass by, followed by a Valet de Chambre, whom the Baroness knew to be one of her Son's best friends, and who without question came to give him a Visit.

She went forward to meet with him, and we followed her; because we thought our selves obliged in civility so to do. But, Ma­dam, [Page 271] I attended her not long; for as this man approached near us, I thought I should know him to be the Flemish Marquiss, of whom I have so much discoursed in my Adventures at Maubeuge.

And it was the same, Madam, indeed, nor was I mistaken; we understood since that he had news of his Wife's Death, and retur­ning to Brussels to order his Affairs, he passed by the house of the Baron de Roste (who as I said before was very much his friend) in his journey thither.

Judge you, Madam, if you please, what a condition I was in, when I saw that man whom I did not in the least expect there, and from whom I had cause to fear as many Per­secutions as I lately suffered by Don Pedro. I returned to the house all in a maze, and the Gentlewoman of Liege following me; for she perceived by the alteration of my Counte­nance, that the arrival of this man did dis­compose me, and asked the reason. We went together into a Garden, where they go through a Glass-Portal belonging to a Hall; and I told her my discontent, and how in endeavour­ing to escape out of the hands of one Lover, I was fallen unhappily into those of ano­ther.

She was almost as much troubled at this Rencounter as my self; for I never knew a more tender-hearted Girl, and she concern'd [Page 272] her self with her friends business as if it were her own. We consulted together what we should do to free our selves from this mis­chief; and after many Arguments on both sides, 'twas concluded, that the safest way was to counterfeit being Sick, and hide my self till that man was gone.

To this end, I went and shut my self up in my Chamber, and Angelica went to the Lady de Roste and told her I was troubled with a Meagrim, to which I was very sub­ject; and the best remedy for it was, not to speak to any one. She said this onely to pre­vent their seeking after me; but for her part she never left me time after time, but came to understand how I stood affected, and to bring me some Conserves, which I supp'd with that evening.

For, Madam, I forgot to tell you that I passed all this while for this Girls Brother; and Fortune herein did very much favour our Cheat; because that young Man had run through his course of Learning at Antwerp, where he had an Uncle, and was little known by any of his Relations in the Country of Liege.

The Baroness of Roste knew very well that Angelica had a Brother; but for the rea­son I told you, never saw him: and though she knew very well he could not be above seventeen or eighteen years old, yet Women [Page 273] look so young when clothed in Mens Appa­rel, that she did easily believe me to be the same person. Therefore she thought it not strange that Angelica spent some part of the Evening with me: nay, she had come her self, but that she thought she should disturb me. Yet, Madam, I might have let her come, for my precaution was useless, and I might as well have shewed my self publickly as con­ceal my self.

You may well think, Madam, that we were forced to rely upon the Valet that came with us; and he could not possibly see ano­ther person in the place and habit of his young Master, without acquainting him with our Secret in some measure.

We took all the precaution we could to engage him to secrecy and fidelity; but at last we run the risque of his deceiving us; and he knew, as well as we, that I was a Wo­man, and that I fled from the violence of Don Pedro.

He kept this business private enough whilst we were with the Baroness de Roste; and you have heard, Madam, that I was not discover­ed: But he had been formerly a Servant to this Flemish Marquiss that I mentioned but just now; he went from him onely to be married, and had yet a great love for his old Master. He thought he was not obliged to Silence with him, as he was with other per­sons; [Page 274] and assoon as the Marquiss saw him, and that he asked him what he did there, he told him very fully and ingenuously what was the cause of it, and all passages precedent to our arrival.

The Marquiss had not so absolutely re­nounced Brussels and Maubeuge, but that he had private Intelligence of all their Transacti­ons. He understood by those Letters that were sent to him, how Don Pedro had declared him­self my Lover, that he had conducted me to Liege, and that the Abbess of Cologne also went along with me.

When he heard his old Servant tell him that he conducted a Woman in Mans Appa­rel; that she escaped out of a Castle where she was with an Abbess, and where a certain per­son, one Don Pedro de Larra, would have de­tained her; he himself added to all this, that I counterfeited my being sick, assoon as he came thither, because he should not see me, and he did not question but that I was the Countess of Englesac. He told me since that, that Imagination did very much enhance the Estimation and Tenderness he ever had for me; and that he could not hear without much satisfaction, that I had testified so great a Re­pugnance to an amorous Intrigue with the forementioned Don Pedro.

He spent a whole Night almost in taking to himself I know not how many different Reso­lutions: [Page 275] And the next Day understanding where my Bed-Chamber was, and being led thither, he came in and out like a Laquay from the Baroness to understand how I did; I be­ing very much amazed to see him at my Beds-head, before I could use any means to prevent him.

I was so disturbed at his sight, that I could not speak one word to him; and my silence, without doubt, made him guess at my com­motion inwardly. Fear not, Madam, said he, that my Visit shall prove injurious to you; I come not here to upbraid you with the Errours into which you have plunged me, and which you have maintained with so many Cheats and Dissimulation. On the contrary, I come to assure you, that in my Opinion you are already justified; and it shall be only your fault, if there follows not upon all that passed between us a most loving and solid Friendship. I have contended with you about the Estate of Madam de Seville, because I was perswaded it was more my Right than yours; Besides that, there was some discourse both of you and her, that her Relations could not see you without shame become her Legatory. To these Considerations of Policy and Interest were added the naughty Character that they gave me of you; I am satisfied within my self, that it was false, and take delight in so thinking. For, Madam, I love you still, and will always love you as long as I live.

I trembled again when I heard him make these Protestations, and interrupted him, say­ing, that certainly he deceived himself, and he did not love so much as talked of.

Pardon me, Madam, he replied; I am not deceived, and do certainly love you as much as I am capable of Love: but do not fear that this Love of mine has the same effects as Don Pe­dro's. I know very well that my Wife is dead, and her death has rendred me absolute Master of my Will; but I have so often stoken ill of you formerly, that I can no longer offer you the place that she possessed; and think so well of you at pre­sent, that I should look upon it as a piece of In­justice to offer you any other. The action of your stealing away from Don Pedro hath touched me to the very quick, and seems to be done by a ve­ry vertuous person. You are she, Madam, with­out doubt, and they are sordid people that have discoursed otherwise of you. Vertue in a Lady is not the onely thing that men always seek after; but for my own part, I declare it, that I love dearly to meet with it in you; and that there is nothing which I will not do to defend and proclaim yours abroad. Depend upon my Esteem of and Friendship for you, they shall never fail you; and I swear by all that is most Sacred, if you put your real confidence in me, you shall not be deceived.

I am naturally credulous enough; and all the while the Marquiss was thus discoursing, with me, he had sincerity written in his very [Page 277] Forehead; but yet I could not for all this believe but that he laid Snares for me, to cast me into some new Precipice; and I am apt to believe he had never perswaded me to it if Angelica had not come to his assistance.

But as she did not foresee things as I did, the fidelity of the Marquiss prevailed more with her than me. She told me I was un­just to this honest Gentleman, to believe him so wicked and so great a dissembler. He justi­fied himself herein with a thousand Oaths, and that he never did me any harm, but one­ly upon the false Reports that were bruited abroad of me to him. To which he added large promises to do me right in the business of the Marchioness of Sevil's Grant, and to conduct me into any part of the world I would make choice of. What shall I say? In fine, Madam, I yielded to his Propositions and Promises, and began to advise with him about all my affairs. Then we agreed toge­ther that he should depart for Brussels that very day, to take orders for all things that he intended in my behalf; that after he had set­led his affairs in that City, he should come back to me again, and furnish me with Wo­mens Apparel and all Necessaries to conduct me to Cologne: for, Madam, 'twas to no purpose for him to proffer me any other place, and to say he would put me in a condition of living in any part of the world that I [Page 278] fancied. I was resolved to see our Abbess once more, and satisfie her by the simplicity of my proceedings, that she was not deceived in me when she gave so favourable an opinion of me.

The Marquiss did daily increase his advan­tageous conceit of me; I never saw a man esteem a Woman so highly as he did me: and, Madam, it was not a meer Grimace; he had really an Esteem for me, and gave me great demonstrations of it, as I am going to inform your Highness. He took upon him the care of Angelica's young Brother, about whom she began to be disquieted; and having given us a Valet to go and acquaint the Vir­gin's Mother that she should not be troubled for her Children, and that they were at the Baroness de Roste's, and reprehended ours very sharply that he had been so indiscreet; and went so far as to be responsible for his discretion for the future, taking him along with him, and leaving us one in his room that knew nothing of our affairs.

For, Madam, we had agreed that I should keep them private till the return of the Mar­quiss, or at least the Baron de Roste, which he represented to me as a person of the greatest Integrity in the world, and in whom I might confide as to businesses of greater Importance than my Disguise.

But I was not troubled with that; for his [Page 279] Affairs led him to Namurs, in the Countrey between the Sambre and Meuse, where he had a House; and he was obliged to stay whilst the Army passed by, for fear, that notwith­standing the Orders which the Officers made, the Highway-men should commit some out­rages.

Now it was onely the old Baroness de Ro­ste that I was obliged to deal with; and that was no great matter of difficulty, because, Madam, she had a great kindness for me. She often told my supposed Sister, that I was the prettiest Boy in the world; and when they finde that in one Sex persons are so amiable, they do not trouble themselves to seek them in another.

She was not the onely person in her House that pleased her self with this mistake. A young Gentlewoman Related to her, whom she had brought up from her Cradle, and who was a very Complaisant person, found me very sutable to her humour; and could willingly (as I think) have wished that I had been the Brother of Angelica indeed; and withal, I had as great a kindness for her as she had for me.

She took great care of me in some small concerns, which relished more than ordinary Civility: and one day when we were playing at Verquere, which is the Tick-tack of that Country, I told her in a drolling humour, I [Page 280] would play with her for her Heart, and try if it were possible for me to win it.

Pray, Sir, teach me, if you can, said she, what it is to win a Heart, and how those per­sons that lose it are sensible they have lost it? I replied, Fair Lady, A Heart is won several ways; but the surest is to expose it to Fortune, as it would be if you should wager your heart against any person at Verkeere, and that the Chance of the Dice should so order it. But if I should play for it, and lose it, she added, How shall I know when it is won? There is do difficulty in that, I replied smiling: When any one hath lost his Heart with another, she desires always to be with the Man that hath won it: One minutes absence creates a thousand Troubles; She is sensible of an Emotion when she sees him, and of a surprise when he is absent. Nay, 'tis in vain to endeavour to overcome those Commotions, it can never be done; for there is no living without a Heart, and it must needs be, though you have one, that you should be always present with him to whom you parted with it. Come, let us play no more, said she, blushing and veiling herself with her hood, We have sported sufficiently, and I am so unlucky a Gamester, that I lose all I play for.

The Baroness came in just as she ended her Discourse, and we durst not continue it before her; for if the acknowledgment I owe to her kinde Reception permit me to say what I think, she commended me very much; and [Page 281] methinks in Womens Mouths such extraor­dinary Applauses proceed rather from the Heart than the Brain.

But she was not always with us: For this young Virgin and I went for a walk together at some certain times, and I took delight to see how her youthful heart grew warm by little and little, and would have made a very great progress, if I had instigated her there­unto. I still thought that I was with the Countess d' Englesac, my Mother-in-Law, and that I saw this Love encrease between her Son and my self, which brought so much trou­ble upon me. This did sometimes draw tears from my eyes; and, Madam, you would have been too compassionate, had you seen how this poor Infant bore a share in my petty and in­considerable Troubles, and endeavoured to put an end to them.

I spent five Weeks complete in this House, still expecting the Return of the Baron De Ro­ste, or the Flemish Marquiss, who neither of them came back; and I began to be so trou­bled at their long absence, that I was at last resolved to confide in the Lady de Roste, and to require her assistance in order to my going to the Convent: But as I had just taken up this Resolution, my Marquiss retur­ned; and he did not only extricate me out of that Labyrinth wherein I was intricated, but freed Angelica from the Disturbance [Page 282] she was in upon the account of her Brother.

We heard not one word from him, since the time that we left him with my Garments in that House from whence I escaped; and we durst not send to enquire after him, for we were fearful that by that means they would discover our abode; until we were secured that the Baron De Roste would protect us. I always thought it was dangerous for me to give them so much light as to guess at the place of my Retirement.

The poor Young-man was carefully kept up in this House; but when they found it was to no purpose to confine him there, he was dis­missed, and by good fortune, as he came to Liege, much troubled to know what was become of us, he was met by the Flemish Marquiss, and known by Angelica's Valet, that he had along with him.

He left them both in a House that he was acquainted with, where we met with them not long after; and coming to Monsieur de Roste, Angelica and I took leave, as if she had received some Letters from her Mother that obliged her to return to Liege; and the Marquiss came to us the next day at that very House where he left Angelica's Brother and Valet, and where he appointed us to meet.

The poor young Gentlewoman that I have told you of, took our separation very grie­vously; and I observed that Madam de Roste [Page 283] was not altogether insensible. Both the one and the other told me very obliging things; and the young Gentlewoman above all wept heartily: But as they hoped that I would see them again very speedily, their affliction was inconsiderable in comparison of Angelica's and mine.

What a good and generous person was this Gentlewoman, Madam! How much am I obliged to her, and what Friendship did we contract at our departure! She would have gone to Cologne if she durst, and I had a great desire she should; for though the Marquiss brought Women with me to conduct me with the greater decency, yet I always trem­bled at the thought, that I confided in a man which had been in love with me, and possi­bly is still: But, Madam, I was forced to take this course; for I was afraid of doing Angeli­ca an injury as to her Mother, if I should a­buse her kindness so far as to permit her to accompany me; and I thought it was but an ill acknowledgment of the obligation she had laid upon me, to do her such an ill office.

Therefore, Madam, I went away without her; she went to Liege, and I to Cologne, where I am at last arriv'd without any accident; and where the Heir of the Marchioness of Se­vil has kept his word with me so generously, that I finde my self in a capacity to live a [Page 284] peaceable and indifferent quiet Life, in any condition that I shall make choice of. But, Madam, if I continue the humour I am now in, I shall never be of any other opinion. I finde it a calm life; the Convent does not appear to me what it was afar off; and I may boldly say, there would be nothing wanting to the Content of my Minde, if I could tell you near-hand what I write to you now at a distance, That no person is devoted to your Highness with so much Zeal and Submission, as