GRandeur and Gallantry never ap­peared in greater splendour in France, than in the Declension of the Reign of Henry the Second. To the Person and Bravery of this Prince, Nature had added warm inclinations to main­tain the amorous Fire she had originally kind­led in him: That the passion he had for Diana of Poictiers, Duchess of Valentinois, under which he had labour'd upwards of twenty years, was so far from being able to abate of its violence, it rather seem'd to add Fewel to the Flame.

He had the happiness to excel in all those noble Exercises, he judg'd might merit a place in his Royal thoughts, amongst the number of which he was particularly devoted to [Page 2] Hunting, Tennis-Balls, Running at the Ring, and such other generous Divertise­ments, as might suit with the Honour of his Presence.

Their Appointments were seldom made, but colourably, to give the King an oppor­tunity to recruit the passion the Duchesses beauty had so many years since created in him. She seem'd to parallel, if not exceed, the fair Model of Madam de la March, her Daughter, then unmarried, in those Gra­ces Nature had been prodigal of to them both. The Queens presence still seem'd to authorise hers.

This Princes, though she had out-worn her youthful years, her Face yet seem'd to retain the ruines of a Noble Beauty. She was pleased to set a value on State, Magni­ficence, and her pleasures; but to such only she allowed the honour of her presence, as might not contribute to any diminution of her greatness. She was married to the King when he was Duke of Orleans: The Dau­phin, his elder Brother, being then living, and who since dyed at Tournon, a Prince whose Birth and Merit had design'd him for the succession of Francis the First, his Royal Father.

The ambitious humour of the Queen made him keep a straiter Rein upon the Govern­ment. [Page 3] He thought she would not so far ex­press her resentment of his passion for the Duchess, that the Symptomes of her Jea­lousie might fall under his notice. She was so well read in the practice of dissimulation, that it was impossible to pierce further into the Cabinet of her heart, than she was pleas'd to allow the Inquisitor. Policy obliged her to interpose the Person of this Duchess, that she might the more easily insinuate her self in­to that of the King. This Prince was pleased to divert himself in the conversation of La­dies, and not always of those for whom he had a kindness. He was ever ready to wait upon the Queen at the usual hour, they took the Tour, which was always honoured with the presence of the greatest and most de­serving.

Never was a Court furnisht with a fairer stock of either Sex. Nature seem'd to have taken pleasure to be most lavish of her great­est Graces to the greatest Persons. The Prin­cess Elizabeth, who had the honour to marry with the King of Spain, was pleased to ex­pose to the admiration of the Court, that in­comparable Beauty, that prov'd afterwards so fatal to her. The Lady Mary Steward, Queen of Scotland, who being designed to marry the Dauphin, had the honour to wear the Title of the Dauphin-Queen. Nature [Page 4] had made her fair Model inferior in no part to that of the Princess; she received her Educati­on in France, and had taken up an Ambition from her Infancy (that in despite of her green years) she was resolved, not only to love, but understand all such things as might con­tribute to her improvement. The Queen her Mother-in-law, and the Princess the Kings Sister, were much devoted to Musick and Poetry. The Veneration King Francis had for those Sciences, was not yet extinguisht in France: and the King, who affected all Ex­ercises of the Body, made the Court the Theatre he perform'd them in. But that which render'd it so splendid, was the presence of so many great Princes and Persons of Merit. Those I shall presume to name here, were e­qually its Ornament, and its Admiration.

The King of Navarre had ingross'd the greatest Respect, as pretending to the great­est Rank, which, joyn'd to the Merit of his Person, justly allow'd him the Honour of it. He was so great a General, that the Duke of Guise had an Ambition to serve under him in the quality of a private Volunteer. 'Tis Truth, the Duke had given so great proofs of his Vallour and Conduct, that there was not a great Captain that could allow his Merit its due Character without Envy. His Cou­rage was bound up with other great Vertues; [Page 5] he had a Soul as brave as generous, and a Capacity so great, as if Nature had fitted him Tam Marti, quam Mercurio, either for War or Counsel. The Cardinal of Lorain, his Brother, brought into the World so insa­tiable an Ambition with him, he seem'd to have a Design wholly to ingross her to him­self. Nature had added to it, for its advan­tage, a Tongue whose Eloquence was made up of Charms. His Studies and Sedulity had furnisht him with a stupendious stock of Learning, which he was not wanting on all occasions to imploy in the defence of the Church. The Chevalier of Guise, after­wards called the Grand Prior, was a Prince, whose Affability and Sweetness had justly pur­chas'd him the respect of all that had the happiness to know him. The Prince of Conde under the small dimension Nature had mold­ed him, by which she testified the little regard she had for his Person, had a Soul as haughty as great; and the briskness of his Wit had amply supply'd Nature's unkind usage; which could not, with all her envy, rob him of the Honour that was due to his Merit and Qua­lity. The Duke of Nevers, who had ren­dred his Age venerable by the Honour of his Actions. These composed the nobler part of the glorious Train of the Court: He had three Sons as equally as nobly accomplisht, the [Page 6] second was called the Prince of Cleve, a Gen­tleman that truly deserved to support the greatness of his Family, he was as good as great; and he had so large a stock of Prudence and Discretion, such as Nature seldom lodges in green heads. The viscount of Chartres, descended from the illustrious Family of Ven­dome (whose name the Princes of the Blood think no dishonour to wear) presum'd to share in their Gallantry with them: He was inferi­our, to none either in his Person or his Cou­rage, or any other rich Endowment, that can render a Gentleman truly noble. By which he had purchas'd himself so great an esteem in the Court, that they thought he might deserve the Honour (if any Man might presume to it) of having his Merit thrown in­to the Ballance with that of the Duke of Ne­mours. This Prince seem'd to have been the chief work of Nature; that which was the least to be admired in him was his Person, than which the World could not produce a nobler. That which lodg'd him above the common Sphere of others, was not only his Courage, which had not it's equal, but the sweet Har­mony that was observed in all his other Ver­tues: they seem'd to have conspired toge­ther to render him the Worlds wonder. The sweetness of his Converse made him equally the ambition of both Sexes; and he was [Page 7] pleased to express that Majesty in all his Exer­cises, that it still purchased him the admira­tion of his beholders. The gayety of his Ha­bit had made him the mode of the Court, though all his followers had the Misfor­tune to fall short of their Pattern. In fine there was that Contexture of worth and Ho­nour in the rich Frame, that wheresoever he came, he had the happiness to ingross to him­self the respect of the whole Company. There was not a Lady in the Court, whose coyness would not abate upon his approach; neither was there any could boast her heart proof against his Charms; and as few that could forbear to discover a passion for him, though he had not the inclination to inter­change the flame. He had so great a passion for Honour, he thought the greatest toils, the noblest steps to mount up to her. He had his choice of Mistresses, but only a Pro­phet could Divine which of them had the happy Fate to entertain his heart. He was often observed to make his visits to the Dau­phin-Queen. The Beauty of this Princess, the Sweetness of her disposition, and the In­dustry she seemed to use to keep up the Honor and Esteem the Court had for her, joyned with the respect she was pleased to shew this Prince, gave a suspition to some, that he might as well love, as admire so deserv­ing [Page 8] a Lady. The Duke of Guise, whose Neece she was, had so far advanc'd the Repu­tation of his Family by the Honour of this Match, that his Ambition prompt him to ri­val it with the Princes of the Blood, and share in the Power and Authority of the Constable Montmorency. The management of great Affairs the King left to the conduct of the Constable; and was pleas'd to treat the Duke of Guise, and the Marshal of St. Andre, as his Favourites; but as for that Grace and Favour they were to expect from his Royal Bounty, he never granted them with that pleasure and content, as when they came recommended from the Duchess of Va­lentinois; and notwithstanding age had robb'd her of her youth, which should main­tain the Charms that first captivated him, she yet retained that absolute Empire over his Heart, she might be still said to be Mistress both of his Royal Person and his Fortune.

The King had so great a kindness for the Constable, that the first moment of his Reign enlarg'd him from that Exile, to which Francis the First had condemn'd him. The Court was divided between the Duke of Guise and the Constable, who was supported by the Princes of the Blood: Both Parties made it their ambition to purchase an Interest in the Duchess of Valentinois. The Duke of Au­male, [Page 9] Brother to the Duke of Guise, had married one of her Daughters, the Consta­ble seem'd to aspire at the same Alliance. He was not satisfied that his eldest Son had mar­ried Madam Diana, the Kings Daughter by a Lady of Piedmont, who had no sooner dis­burthen'd her self of that mutual Pledge, between his Majesty and her, but was pleas'd to retire into a Cloyster. This Marriage meets with several difficulties, occasioned by a Pro­mise Monsieur Montmorency had made to Ma­dam de Piennes, one of her Majesties Maids of Honour. And notwithstanding the King was pleased to carry himself with an indiffe­rency between them, the Constable thought himself not sufficiently propt without the favour of the Duchess, whereby he might divide the interest the House of Guise seem'd by that Alliance to ingross to its self. Their greatness had already given some disquiet and uneasiness to her; she endeavour'd to retard the Dauphin's Marriage with the Queen of Scotland. The Beauty and discretion of this young Queen, with the advantage this Match must give the Family of Guise, she knew not how to rellish: She had an inveteracy for the Cardinal of Lorain, who had taken the li­berty to discourse her in a Dialect she could by no means understand, by which she per­ceived he had possessed the Queen to her dis­advantage. [Page 10] By this the Constable discover'd a disposition in her, which gave him an op­portunity of making an Alliance by a Marri­age of Madam la March, her Daughter, with Monsieur d' Anvile, his second Son, who suc­ceeded him in his Government under Charles the 9th. The Constable hop'd he should not meet the same Remora in his second he had unhappily found in his eldest: But alas, he was mistaken: The Duke d' Anvile was pas­sionately in love with the Dauphin-Queen; but what hopes he might have, that she would vouchsafe to entertain the Flame, out­soar'd the Constable's apprehension. The Marshal of St. Andre was the only Person in the Court that seem'd to lean to neither side: He was a Favourite whose interest seldom re­garded any thing above his own advantage. The King lov'd him from the time he was Dauphin; and since he has been pleas'd to make him a Marshal of France, in an Age so raw, it could scarce intitle another to the meanest Dignity. The Kings favour gave him a great Lustre, which he was not want­ing to improve on all occasions, to endear both his Merit and his Person; which he had the happiness to do, under the advantages of a splendid Table, to which his Majesty was a constant Guest; the richness of his Fur­niture, and gayety of his Equipage, to the [Page 11] splendor whereof his Majesties Royal Bounty was ever contributary. This Prince would passionately espouse the interest of those he loved. And notwithstanding he was not inrich't with the noblest Qualities, he was not yet barren in them all: As he was a great lover of Arms, he was no Novice in them; For­tune still waited on him with success, and bar­ring the battel of St. Quintine, his Reign was no other than a continued series of Victory. By his Personal Courage he shared in the Honour of the Battel of Renty, Piedmont sub­mitted to his Arms, to which he added the greatest lustre in chasing the English out of France.

The Emperour Charles the 5th. found a de­clension in his Fortune at the Siege of Metz, before which he brought the strength both of the Empire and Spain: But the disgrace he received at St. Quintine had put so great a stop to his glorious Carreer, he was inforc't to suffer his Rival to share his Fortune with him, and treat a Peace.

The Duchess Dowager of Lorain, had made the first Overture at the Dauphins Mar­riage, since which there has been held a se­cret Negotiation. In fine, Cercan in Artois was the place appointed for the Treaty. The Cardinal of Lorain, the Constable of Mont­morency, and the Marshal of St. Andre, were [Page 12] Plenipotentiaries for the King; the Duke of Alva, and the Prince of Orange for philip the Second; the Duke and Duchess of Orleans were the Mediators. The principal Articles were, the Marriage of the Princess Elizabeth of France with Don Carlos the Infanta of Spain, and his Majesties Sister with the Monsieur of Savoy.

The King, during the Treaty, continued upon the Frontiers, where he received the first news of the Death of Queen Mary of England. His Majesty forthwith dispatcht the Earl of Randan to Queen Elizabeth, to congratulate with her Majesty her Assumption to the Crown; she received him honourably, her affairs were in so ill a posture at that time, she was not a little satisfied, that so great a Prince was pleased to pay his first respects to her. The Court discoursed she was well read in the in­terest of the Court of France, and the merit of those that had the honour to compose it. But for none she seemed to express so great a value, as the Duke of Nemours; she was pleased to speak with that Honour of this Prince, that the Ambassadour upon his return, took the Liberty to declare, he thought no Person more valuable in her esteem, than the Duke. And did not question upon his addresses, the Queen might do him the Ho­nour to entertain a Passion for him. The King [Page 13] the same Evening communicated it to the Prince, where he commanded the Count de Randan, to give him the Relation; to con­firm the Duke in the respect the Queen had for him: which he was pleased to conclude with his advice, not to neglect the favourable op­portunity that seemed to court him to so much happiness. The Duke received it at first, as a piece of raillery, till his Majesty was pleas'd to undeceive him. If, Sir, (says the Duke) in obedience to your Majesties commands, and for your service, I shall embark my self upon so extravagant a design, as to presume a Prin­cess (whom I have never yet had the honour to know) should admit me to her Royal Bed, I hope your Majesty will be pleased not to divulge the vanity of the attempt, till the success may justi­fie me to the Publick. The King was pleas'd to give him his Royal word, that he would depose it in the knowledge of no other Breast, but the Constable's, concluding with the Duke, that Secresie might facilitate the design: The Count advised the Duke to take a Jour­ney for England, which he refused, and dis­patch't Monsieur Lignerolle, a sprightly Gen­tleman, his Favourite, to sound the Queens inclinations, and to endeavour to fix some obligation upon her. In the interim he takes a Journey for Bruxells, to give a visit to the Duke of Savoy, who was there with the King [Page 14] of Spain. The death of Queen Mary gave several difficulties to the Treaty, which about the end of November broke up, and his Ma­jesty return'd to Paris.

At last there broke forth a Beauty in the Court which drew all its Eyes upon her, and I cannot without injustice rank her amongst the indifferent, that could purchase such ad­miration in a place that was so richly stored. She was of the Family of the Viscount de Chartres, and one of the greatest Heiresses of France. She had the misfortune to bury her Father in her infancy, by which unhappy accident, she was left to the Guardianship of Madam de Chartres, her Mother. She was a Lady of those great Accomplishments, that Fortune, Vertue, and Merit seem'd to have conspired to compleat her fair model. After her Husbands death, she had for some years made her recess from Court. During her retirement, she was not wanting to give her Daughter an Education suitable to her Qua­lity, in which she did not so much labour to improve her Person as her better part, which she endeavour'd to embellish with Vertue, which renders a Lady truly noble. The ge­nerality of Mothers imagin it sufficient to for­bear to discourse of the vanity of Love; left their Children should be invited to stray out of the paths of Vertue. Madam de Chartres [Page 15] was of a contrary opinion. She was pleased to paint out love to her Daughter in all its shapes, that she might be the better able to discern that part of her which might be the most dangerous. She informs her of the little Sincerity and Candor there is in Man. Their Devices, their Infidelity, and the Do­mestick Discontents Marriage often plunges those into, that alter their condition. On the other side she declares the Happiness and Tranquility that attends a Vertuous Wife; and what Luster and Esteem Piety in a per­son of Birth and Beauty may purchase her. And concludes in acquainting her with the difficulty to preserve it; which cannot be bet­ter secured than by a diffidence in our selves, and a serious application to those things that can best contribute to our happiness, which is to love our Husbands, and to merit a re­turn.

This Lady was at that time one of the greatest Matches of France; and notwith­standing she was but in her greener years, she wanted not her choice of Proposals. Madam de Chartres, who was an ambitious Lady, scarce thought the noblest worthy her consi­deration. She having now arrived to the six­teenth year of her Age, she brought her to Court. The first that paid his respects to her, upon her arrival, was the Viscount, who [Page 16] was not a little surprised, and you cannot blame him, at the Beauty of the fair Lady. The delicacy of her Meen, (in which York and Lancaster seem'd to have contended which of the two should be the most prodigal of his Charms) was the Subject of his admira­tion.

The Day following, the young Lady went to a famous Italian to purchase a Set of Jewels. This Gentleman came along with the Queen from Florence; and he had raised himself to that prodigious wealth by his In­dustry, that his House appeared rather to be the Palace of a Prince, than the Being of a Merchant. When she was there, in comes the Prince of Cleve: He was so transported at the sight of this young Lady, that he could not dissemble his surprise. Madam de Char­tres could not forbear to answer the Princes discomposure with a blush; after she had a little composed her self, she pays her civility to the Prince, suitable to the Character she apprehended he might bear. The Prince beheld her with admiration; but he was not able to judge who this Lady should be, having never had the honour to see her before. He perceived by her Person, and the numerous Retinue that waited on her, that she must be of eminent Quality. Her youth perswaded him she might be a Maid, but seeing no Mo­ther [Page 17] with her, and the Italian giving her the Title of Madam, he knew not what to think. She seemed to receive his Addresses with a dis­order more than usual with young Ladies, who take no small vanity in the impression their Beauty may happily make upon a stran­ger. The Prince's applications to her, gave her some impatience to retire; which she suddenly did: Monsieur de Cleve was pleas'd, notwithstanding her absence, to solace him­self, with the hopes to have the happiness to retrieve her again, when he should know who she was. But upon the question put to the Italian, he could receive no satisfaction: He was notwithstanding so strangely captivated with her Beauty, and that Grace and sweet­ness that attended it, that from that moment he entertained a passion for her that was not ordinary. In the Evening he went to kiss the Hands of his Majesties Sister.

The Princess was a Lady of great value, for the interest she had in the King, which was so powerful with him, that his Majesty, upon the Peace, was pleased to restore Pied­mont to the Duke of Savoy for her sake. And notwithstanding she had a disposition to marry, yet her Ambition would never stoop to any thing below a Soveraign; which was the reason she refused the King of Navarre, when he was Duke of Vendome. The Inter­view, [Page 18] at Nice, between Francis the first, and Paul the third, gave birth to her inclinations for the Savoyard; she was a person of great Ingenuity, and a great Judge of the Ingeni­ous; so that her Apartment was the Theatre of the Virtuoso's and the Court was pleased to spend some hours there for its Divertise­ment.

The Prince of Cleve was of the number of the Visitants: He was so swell'd with the admiration of young Madam de Chartres, that he could discourse upon no other Subject. He made a publick Narrative of his adven­ture, and could not forbear to be lavish of his praises of the Lady (though incognita.) Madam—was pleased to tell him, that she believed there was no such Creature in being; for if there were she must needs be known. Madam Dampier, one of the Princesses La­dies of Honour, and an Intimate of Madam de Chartres, took the liberty to whisper her Highness in the Ear, that it might be young Madam de Chartres, whom the Prince had seen: Madam—turning to the Prince, told him, if he would afford her his Compa­ny the day following, she would endeavour to give him a sight of the fair Lady he seem'd to have so great a passion for. The next day the young Lady came; she had so obliging a reception from both Queens, that it suffici­ently [Page 19] demonstrated the value they had for her; neither were there wanting to attend it, both the admiration, and the praise of the whole Court: She received their Grace and Favour with so sweet a modesty, 'twas hard to distinguish whether she seem'd to take notice of them or value them most. This young Lady was pleased to put her self a­mongst Madam's Train. The Princess, after she had given a fair Character of her person, could not forbear to acquaint her with the im­pressions it had made upon the Prince of Cleve; she had no sooner concluded, but en­ters the Prince. Come hither (says Madam) behold I have made good my word to you, and satisfie me, if in presenting Madam de Char­tres to you, I have not given you a sight of the fair Lady you are in quest of; I expect your thanks for shewing you a Lesson by which you may learn the more to admire it.

The Prince was overjoyed when he found the Lady, for whom he had so great a passion, was of a Quality adequate with her Person. He made his Addresses to her, and humbly begg'd she would vouchsafe to remember he was the first that laid his Heart at her Feet, and before he had the happiness to be known to her, he had an honour and respect for her suitable to her merit.

The Chevalier of Guise, and the Prince, [Page 20] two bossome Friends, took their leave of Madam together. They were no sooner out but they began a fresh to lance forth into the admiration of this fair Lady. At last, having wasted their stock of praise, they were forc'd to take up. The whole day following they gave themselves the loose Rein again: This fresh beauty continued a long subject for the Courts discourse. The Queen was pleased to ranck her self amongst the number of her admirers, which she sufficiently evidenc'd by the kindness she was pleased to shew her.

The Dauphin-Queen made her her Favou­rite, laying her Commands upon Madam de Chartres, her Mother, that she should often make her visits to her: And the Princesses, the Kings Daughters, to declare the Honour they had for her, there was not any Diver­tisement they thought worthy their Royal pre­sence, in which they made her not a sharer. In fine, she had purchas'd all the Hearts of the Court, except that of Madam the Valentinois: not that this young Lady gave her any Jea­lousie, too long an Experience had confirmed her, that she was not to be supplanted. She had so great an inveteracy against the Vis­count de Chartres, that she wisht she could intail it upon him by a Marriage with one of her Daughters. She had already possest the Queen, that she could not look kindly [Page 21] upon a person that bore his Name, nor any for whom he had a kindness.

The Prince became a passionate admirer of Madam de Chartres, and pursued his sute with all the Zeal imaginable; but he fear'd the haughtiness of Madam de Chartres, her Mother, would never dispense with her Daughters marriage with a Gentleman that was not the head of his Family. This House was yet so noble, that the Count d' Eu, who was its Capital, had the honour to marry with a Lady that was nearly related to the Blood Royal. So that this seem'd rather the timidity of Love, than any just subject for his Jealousie: He had several Rivals: The Che­valier de Guise, whose Birth, Merit, and the Luster the Royal Favour gave him, rendered him the most considerable. This Princes heart became her Prisoner also at the first sight. These two had discovered each others passion. The distance pretensions of this na­ture create in Rivals, had interrupted their usual Conversation: Their friendship began to grow chill, and they had scarce the power to disguise their several Resentments: The happiness the Prince of Cleve had to be her first admirer, appeared to be no ill presage; it seem'd to give him some advantage over the rest: The Duke was strongly leagued with the Duchess of Valentinois; she was a mortla [Page 22] Enemy to the Viscount, and this was a suf­ficient reason to divert the Duke of Nevers consent to the marriage of his Son with a Neece of his.

Madam de Chartres, who had applyed her self with so much zeal to infuse Virtue into her Daughter, was not wanting to con­trive it here, where it was so necessary, and where there were so many dangerous exam­ples. Ambition and Gallantry were the soul of this Court; they had equally diffused themselves amongst both Sexes. There were so many several Interests, and different Ca­bals, in which the Women bore a part, that Affairs seem'd to mix with Love, and Love with business. No man must be impartial or indifferent: Their thoughts were either taken up how to rise, to please, to serve, or to offend: They knew not what it was to be dull or lazy: They were either diverted with Pleasures or Intrigues: The Ladies studied how they might rivet themselves into the fa­vour of the Queen, the Dauphin Queen, the Queen of Navarre, Madam the Kings Sister, or the Duchess of Valentinois; their Incli­nations, their Deportment, and their Hu­mours made their Applications different. Those, who had taken leave of their youth, to embrace an austerer retirement, made their addresses to her Majesty; those that had not [Page 23] yet divested themselves of their aiery spright­fulness, to the Dauphin-Queen. The Queen of Navarre wanted not her Favourites also, she was young, and had a power over the King her Husband, whose interest was em­bark'd in the same bottom with the Consta­bles, which gave him a Vogue. The beauty of Madam, the Kings Sister, was a Load­stone that had not lost its virtue; she attract­ed also on her side her number of Admirers. The Duchess of Valentinois received none both those she thought worthy her regard; few were welcome to her, and only such, with whom she could converse with freedom and confidence, and who sympathized with her humour; she took a vanity to see her Court could in its Luster rival with the Queens: The different Cabals, had their several emulations and envy; neither were the Ladies that composed them exempted from their jealousies either for their Love or Favour. The interest of greatness, and the ambition to rise, sometimes vouchsafed to interfere with concerns of little importance. There were some motions in this Court with­out disorder, which rendered it graceful, though dangerous to youth. Madam de Chartres was sensible of the peril, and made it her care to find out an expedient to divert her Daughter from it. She desired her, not [Page 24] as a Mother, but a Friend, that she would impart to her all the little Gallantries she could meet withal, promising her in return to afford her her conduct to carry her through all those difficulties which imbarrass youth.

The Chevalier of Guise had so far divulged his affection for this Lady, that none could pretend to be ignorant of it; but he finds the way to compass her was not so even, but there were some Rubs he might unlickily stumble at: He was sensible that the narrow­ness of his Fortune, which was not able to support the honour of his quality, could not render him so agreeable to this Lady, as the Persons that were considerable; and he was farther conscious to himself, that his Friends would never consent to this Match, when they considered, that the marriage of younger Brothers must needs debate great Families. The Cardinal of Lorain soon took an occasion to undeceive him; he was pleased to express his resentment, and that with no little heat neither: He would rather have been con­sented to any other allyance than that with the Viscount; and he did so far publish his antipathy against it, that Madam de Chartres was sensibly offended at it. She made it her care to convince the Cardinal that it was not her intention. The Viscount followed her example, but seemed more to resent the Car­dinals [Page 25] carriage, being sensible of the cause.

The Prince of Cleve was not backward to make known his passion to the World, as well as the Chevalier de Guise had done before him. The Duke of Nevers received the news of this address, not without some tokens that discovered how unwelcome it was to him. He thought to remind his Son but of his er­ror, would oblige him to alter his inclination; but he was mistaken, his Son had fixt so strong a resolution upon this Match, no admo­nitions could make any impression on him: He condemns the design, and was so far transported with passion at it, that his disor­der at last reach'd the knowledge of the Court, and amongst the rest that of Madam de Chartres; she doubted not but that the Duke of Nevers would not think this Mar­riage sufficiently advantagious for his Son; but on the other side she could not forbear to won­der that the Houses of Cleve and Guise should rather seem to fear than covet her allyance. The indignation she conceived at this affront, put her upon a resolution to find out a person that might exalt her Daughter above those that thought her so much below them. After she had consulted her thoughts, she fixes upon the Prince Dauphin, Son to the Duke of Montpensier. This was a Gentleman that held one of the primest Ranks in the Court. Ma­dam [Page 26] de Chartres was a Lady of parts; she was assisted by the Viscount, who was a person of great abilities, and her Daughter a Lady considerable. She managed her design with that dexterity and success, and Monsieur had so far embrac'd the motion, she seem'd almost to have surmounted all its difficulties.

The Viscount, knowing the power the Dauphin Queen had over Monsieur de Anvile, thought it not amiss to imploy the interest of that Princess to engage him to serve Made­moiselle d' Chartres, both with his Majesty and the Prince of Montpensier, whose intimate friend he was. Madam de Chartres imparts it to her Majesty; she was pleased to receive it with a great deal of content and satisfaction, when she understood it would contribute to­wards the advancement of a person she had so great a kindness for. She assured the Vis­count, that notwithstanding she was sensible it might disoblige the Cardinal her Uncle, she was yet resolved to make good her Royal Promise. Upon this just provocation, that she observed, the Cardinal seem'd daily to be more inclinable to the interest of the Queen than hers.

Persons, that are truly honourable, think themselves happy in any opportunity that can enable them to serve their Friends. The Viscount had no sooner taken his leave, but [Page 27] she immediately dispatches Monsieur Castelart, a Favourite of Monsieur de Anvile, and who was privy to the passion he had for her, to sig­nifie to him, that she expected him that night at Court. Castelart received her commands with joy and respect. This Gentleman was of a good Family in the Dauphin; but had a Soul and Spirit too great for his Birth: He was well received by all the Grandees of the Court; and the intimacy that was between the Families of Montmorency and de Anvile, had its Birth from him. He was a person well accomplish'd, and graceful in his Actions: In Musick and Poetry he did not the least ex­cel: He had a humour so sweet and debonaire, and it had so far indeared him in the esteem of Monsieur de Anvile, that he made him the Confident of his Amours, between the Dauphin-Queen and him. This Confidence recommended him to this Princess; and here it was, by his often visits, that she took up that unfortunate passion for him, that in the end robb'd her both of her reason and her life.

Monsieur de Anvile failed not to obey her Majesties Commands; he thought himself happy that Madam le Dauphin had vouch­safed to impose the thing upon him he so much coveted. He gave her Majesty his word to serve her in it. Madam de Valentinois, [Page 28] having discovered the design, was not want­ing to throw all the Rubs imaginable in the way. She had so prepossest the King, that when Monsieur de Anvile came to speak to him in it, he was pleased to let him under­stand how little he approved of it. He com­mands him to signifie as much to the Prince of Montpensier. You may easily judge how poor Madam de Chartres resented this sudden Rupture, whose unfortunate success gave so great an advantage to her Enemies, and so much prejudice to her Daughter.

The Dauphin Queen was pleased to declare to Madam de Chartres the discontent she had that she could not serve her. You see Madam, (says the Queen) that my Interest is but small. I stand upon so ill terms with the Queen and Madam Valentinois, that it is no wonder that either they or their Dependents endeavour to disappoint all my desires. I have made it my in­deavours to please them: 'Tis true, they hate me not for my own sake, but my Mothers; she has formerly given them some jealousie and disquiet: The King had his passions before he fixt them on the Duchess of Valentinois; and in the first years of his Marriage, when he had no Issue, and notwithstanding he loved the Duchess, he was almost resolved to be divorc'd from the Queen, to make room for the Queen my Mother. Madam de Valentinois, who [Page 29] was jealous of a Lady whom he had formerly loved, whose Wit and Beauty were able to lessen her favour, joyns her interest with that of the Constable, who never wisht it (as well as she) that his Majesty should marry with the Sister of the Duke of Guise. They possest his Majesty de­ceased with their Sentiments; and notwith­standing that he mortally hated the Duchess of Valentinois, and loved the Queen, yet he la­boured with them in the prevention of the Di­vorce. But to divert all his thoughts of my Mother, they married her into Scotland: They did it as being nearest a Conclusion; by which means they disappointed the King of England, who the most coveted it. This preci­pitation of theirs had like to have made a Rup­ture between the two Crowns: Henry the Eighth was unsatisfied that he was disappoint­ed of the Queen my Mother, or some other French Princess they had propounded to him: He has been heard to say, that the Worth and Beauty of this Lady was so firmly riveted in his Royal heart, the fairest of the Sex must de­spair ever to remove it thence. 'Tis true, the Queen my Mother was a great, but an unfortu­nate, Beauty; and that which rendered it the more remarkable, was, That the Widow of the Duke of Longuevile, had been the ambi­tion of three Crowns; but her unhappy Fate had appointed her the meanest Lot. She had [Page 30] plac'd her in a Kingdom where she converst with nothing but misery and trouble: They are pleased to say that I resemble her, but I fear in nothing but her unhappy destiny; for what good fortune has prepared for me; I have not faith to believe I shall enjoy. Mademoiselle de Charters was pleased to reply to the Queen, that these sad sentiments were ill grounded, that she must not two long dwell upon them, but that she ought to hope that it would one day answer its appearances.

No man durst farther pursue the thoughts of Madam de Chartres, either fearing to in­cur his Majesties displeasure, or despairing of success in the Affair a Prince of the Blood has miscarried in. The death of the Duke of Nevers his Father, which immediately fol­lowed, gave him an intire liberty to gratifie his own inclinations; for as soon as he could with modesty dispence with his appearance in publick, he was resolved to resign up all his thoughts towards the accomplishment of this Marriage. He thought himself happy that he could make his Proposals, in a season that had given opportunities of disincourage­ment to others, and some assurance to himself. But that which discomposed his Joy, was, that he feared that his Person had not Merit enough to recommend him to her; and he was resolved to prefer her happiness before his own.

[Page 31]The Chevalier of Guise had given him some jealousie; but when he considered that it was rather grounded upon the Merit of that Prince, than any Action of Mademoiselle de Chartres, he resolved to endeavour to disco­ver, if he were so happy but to know whe­ther she was pleased to allow the passion he had for her: He had not the happiness to see her but in the Queens Apartment, or some publick place; so that he found it difficult to have the liberty of a free conversation. At last he found out the means; he discovered to her his design, and the passion that obliged him first to take it up. He prest her to let him have the happiness to know her Senti­ments of him; assuring her, that those he had for her were of that nature, they would render him eternally miserable, if she was resolved wholly to resign up her obedience to her Mothers Will.

The young Lady had a generous Soul, she was sensibly touch'd with the passion of the Prince of Cleve: This acknowledgment ad­ed so great a sweetness to her Words and An­swers, that it gave him hopes, and he be­gan to flatter himself with the success he so much wisht for.

She gave an account of it to her Mother, Madam de Chartres was pleased to tell her, that there was that Grandeur and Worth in [Page 32] that Prince, and he demonstrated that pru­dence and discretion in all his actions, that in case she had an inclination for him, she should not want her consent. Mademoiselle de Char­tres answered her Mother, that she was of the number of the admirers of his eminent qualities, that she could marry him with less reluctancy than another, but confest the incli­nation she had for him was not singular.

The day following the Prince signified his intentions to Madam de Chartres, she was pleased to consent, and told him she did not doubt but that she gave her Daughter a Hus­band that would love her when she bestowed her upon him: the Articles were concluded, the King acquainted, and the Match made publick.

The Prince of Cleve thought himself hap­py, but not content; it troubled him to see that the sentiments of Mademoiselle de Char­tres were no other than the common returns due to civility and respect: He had not (as it is usual with the enamoured) the vanity to flatter himself, that she might have reserved the more obliging for a better season. He only considers the terms upon which he stands with her, and thinks they may justly dispence with the liberty to discover them, without prejudice to her modesty. Within few days he finds an opportunity to acquaint her with his resentment. Is it possible (says the Prince) [Page 33] I may be once so happy as to be yours; at present I cannot presume to think my self so fortunate; you are pleased to treat me with a sort of kind­ness, it neither gives me satisfaction nor con­tent: I cannot discover those convincing passi­ons of impatience, disquiet, or disorder, to con­firm a Lover's staggering Faith: You seem to be as insensible of my Love, as you would vouch­safe his, whose Affection's only grounded upon the advantages of your Fortune, not you Per­son. You will think it some injustice (replies Mademoiselle de Chartres) should I chide you now; I know not what further proofs you can desire to receive, or me to give, than those I have already done. Methinks you should believe as well as I, my modesty ought to allow no greater. I own it (says the Prince) that you are pleased to give me some little Symptomes with which I could rest satisfied, would greater but ensue: But in lieu of those, you are pleased to interpose a coyness, which prompts you to this cruelty: I have not the happiness to make any impression, either upon your Inclination or your Heart; and my Company seems to be indifferently divided between your trouble and content. You ought not to question it, (replies Mademoiselle de Chartres) those often blushes I cannot hide from you, ought to be a sufficient Evidence of the value I have set upon it. As for your blushes, Madam, (says the Prince) they surprise me [Page 34] not, they are but modesties bashful discoverers, not the hearts; but I assure you, I shall presume to take no other advantage by them than what I justly may.

The young Lady was non-plust, she under­stood not the distinctions the Prince had made. Monsieur de Cleve, on the otherside, perceiv­ed too well how far she was estranged from any sentiment to his satisfaction. His passi­on was so unhappy, it could make no alterati­on in her.

The Chevalier of Guise return'd from a Jour­ney some few days before the Wedding; he, having been made sensible of those insuperable difficulties that attended his design upon Ma­demoiselle de Chartres, resolved to flatter him­self no longer with the vanity of any success in it; yet at the same time he could not for­bear to be sensibly toucht to see her in ano­thers Arms. His regret was so far from ex­tinguishing his passion, it rather enflamed it more. Mademoiselle de Chartres was not igno­rant of the respect this Prince had for her; he could not forbear at his return to let her know she was the unhappy subject of his torment, though he knew she was a person of that worth and honour, she could not con­sent to make him miserable without some pity for him, which he believed she could scarce avoid, though he was conscious to [Page 35] himself, her compassion could prompt him no other thoughts, but that he was so. She could not conceal from Madam de Chartres her Mo­ther, the trouble this Prince's passion gave her: Madam de Chartres admired (and that justly too) the vertue of her Daughter, for never Lady had either a greater or a more natural; but her admiration did not exceed her wonder, that the passion of the Prince of Cleve could make no deeper an impression in her, than o­thers seem'd to do. This made Madam de Chartres the more zealous to endear her Hus­band to her, that she might make her sensible what returns she ought to make the affection he had for her, even when he knew her not; and to the passion he had since declared, in preferring her before the whole number of her Sex, and that when no other durst har­bour a thought for her.

This Marriage was solemnized at the Louvre; at night his Majesty and the two Queens, attended with the whole Court, were pleased to take a Treat from Madam de Chartres. I need not tell you, its splendor and magnificence was proportioned to the honour of their Royal Guests. The Cheva­lier of Guise durst as little venture to distin­guish himself from the rest, as not to afford his assistance at the Ceremony. But, alas, he could so little disguise his trouble and disor­der, [Page 36] it fell under the notice of all the Com­pany.

Monsieur de Cleve discovered, that Made­moiselle de Chartres had not changed her hu­mour with her name. He was sensible the quality of a Husband had given him the greater priviledge, but not the greater place in his Ladies heart. This obliged him (though a Husband) to treat her as a Servant, for he still seem'd to wish for something beyond the bare enjoyment of her: And though he seem'd to live perfectly contented, yet he could not think himself intirely happy with her. The passion he had for her was so vio­lent and troublesome, it disturbed his joy; though he was yet happy in this, that his jealousie had no share in his disquiet. Never was Husband so far from taking, nor Wife so far from giving it. Notwithstanding she visited the Courts of both the Queens, and that of Madam: where, and at her Brother-in-law's, the Duke of Nevers, whose House was the general Rendezvous, she was expo­sed to the admiration of all the brisk and no­ble Youth of the Town: She had a Meen that created her so great a respect, and which seem'd so much a stranger to all manner of Courtship, that the Marshal of St. Andre, who had a passion for her, (notwithstanding he was the most confident, and indeed the [Page 73] best propt with his Majesties Grace and Fa­vour) durst not presume to shew it farther than by his services. Many others lay under the same unhappiness; for Madam de Chartres had added to her Daughters discretion, so ex­act a conduct in all her Actions and Deport­ment, that she convinc'd the Court, that that young Lady had a Soul so vertuous, it would allow of no ill tincture.

The Duchess of Lorain, as she was pleased to imploy her interest for the conclusion of this peace, she was not wanting to contribute her endeavours for the advantage of her Son. There was a Marriage concluded between him and Madam Claude, the Kings second Daughter, and the Month of February ap­pointed for the Nuptials.

In the interim the Duke of Nemours stays at Bruxells, wholly taken up with his great design for England, Dispatches, and Couri­ers pass and re-pass daily; his hopes begin more and more to swell upon him. In fine, Monsieur Lignerolles advises him, it was now time that his presence should endeavour to accomplish the thing he had so happily be­gun: He received the news with all the joy a young ambitious Soul was capable of, that saw himself so nigh being handed up into a Throne upon his single Merit. His Heart was so immoveably fixt upon the Grandeur [Page 38] of this Fortune, that he would not as much as vouchsafe to allow a thought towards the difficulties that might interpose between it and him.

He sends immediately to Paris his neces­sary Orders for a splendid Equipage, that he might appear in the Court of England in luster suitable to the greatness of his design. Not long after he follows himself, that he might have the honour to be present at the Wedding of the Duke of Lorain.

He came the day before, and as soon as he arrived, he went to pay his respects to the King, to give him an account of this Affair, and receive his Majesties order and com­mands how to govern himself in it; he went also to wait upon her Majesty; Madam Cleve not being there, she had not the happiness either to see him or to know of his arrival. Report (which had been in every persons mouth, so lavish of his praises, as of one who was the mirrour of the Court, both in his merit and his person) had amongst the rest reacht her Ear. Madam, the Dauphin, had spoken of him at that rate, and so often to her, she had enflamed the Princess of Cleve's curiosity, even to a degree of impati­ence to have the honour to see him.

She imployed the Wedding-day in dressing her self to her advantage, that she might ap­pear [Page 39] with the greater Luster at the Royal Ball and Banquet that was to be made that Night at the Louvre: When she came in, the Com­pany paid their usual admiration to her per­son and her habit; the Ball began, and as she was dancing with Monsieur de Guise, there was a noise heard at the Door which seem'd to make room for the entrance of some great person. Madam de Cleve was just disengaged from the Duke of Guise, and was casting her Eye about the noble Company, where to sin­gle out one to supply his place, when the King was pleased to oblige her to take him that came in last; she turned upon him, and beheld his person, which at first sight she knew to be Monsieur de Nemours; he was forc'd to walk over some Chairs before he came to her. This Prince was cast in so fair a Mold, that 'twas impossible not to be sur­prised with it at the first sight: The industry he had used to set himself forth, very much contributed to the gracefulness of his person; and 'twas as hard to look on Madam de Cleve without an equal admiration.

Monsieur de Nemours was so strangely cap­tivated with her Beauty, that upon his ap­proaches to her, and the return she paid the respects he gave her, he could not forbear to shew some tokens of his admiration; a soft murmur of praises stole through the whole [Page 40] Company; the King and the two Queens were all surprised, and their wonder was not small, to see two persons dance with that grace and franckness together, and yet were strangers to each other. They had no sooner done, but they were called; were they were pleased to ask them if they had not a reciprocal ambition to know each of other. Ma­dam, for may part (says the Duke of Nemours) I am satisfied; but if Madam de Cleve finds not these fair Marks about me, as I have dis­covered in her, to know her by, I be seech your Majesty to do me the honour to inform her. I believe (says Madam le Dauphin) you can di­vine as well as he. I assure you Madam (re­plies Madam deCleve) who seem'd to be a little di sordered, I am not so good a Prophet as you are pleased to think me. You guess well (says Ma­dam la Dauphin) you have certainly some regard more than ordinary for the Prince, that you are not pleased to acknowledge that you can guess as well at him as he has done at you. The Queen was pleased to interrupt their disoourse for the advantage of the Ball; Monsieur de Nemours took out the Dauphin-Queen; this Princess was a perfect Beauty, and such she did appear in the Prince's Eye before his Jour­ney into Flanders, yet for all this he could not but allow the whole night to the admiration of this Lady.

[Page 41]The Chevalier of Guise that did yet adore her, sat at her Feet; there was not the least thing past there which gave him not some disquiet. He look'd upon it as ominous, that Fortune should destine Monsieur de Nemours to have a passion for Madam de Cleve, he could scarce disguise his regret from being discovered in his looks, and was as little able to restrain his jealousie from reflections upon her Honour. He thought she might be sen­sibly toucht with the merit of this Prince; and he could not forbear to let her know, that Monsieur de Nemours was a happy man, that could recommend himself to her knowledge by an adventure, which, with so much gracefulness and gallantry, had initiated him into her acquaintance.

Madam de Cleve returns home swell'd with the entertainment she had received at Court; and, notwithstanding 'twas late, she took the liberty to disturb her Mother, to give her the Relation of it. She was pleased to speak of Monsieur de Nemours with a Countenance, that gave Madam de Chartres the same jealousie the Chevalier de Guise had entertain'd before.

The day following the Ceremony of the Nuptials was performed. There she saw him with those advantages of Person and Gallan­try, that they added to her former surprise.

[Page 42]The day after she saw him at the Dauphin-Queens, she saw him play a set at Tennis with the King, she saw him run at the Ring, and she heard him discourse; but she obser­ved that he so far surpast all the rest, that he ingrost the whole Company to himself, by the gracefulness of his person and the brisk­ness of his wit; this in a short time made no small impression in her.

'Tis certain that Monsieur Nemours had an inclination for her equally violent with hers, which gave him that sweetness and delight that inspire desires to oblige. He endeavour'd to render himself more lovely and amiable than he was used to do; insomuch, that by often interviews they did discover something in each other that was the most accomplisht in the Court, so that it was hard if they should not delight infinitely in each other.

The Duchess of Valentinois was the am­bition of all parties; and the King had as great a care and fondness of her, as in the in­fancy of his passion: Madam de Cleve, that was in an Age which thinks Women no lon­ger amiable than under the years of five and twenty, was not a little surprised at the kind­ness his Majesty was still pleased to have for the Duchess, who was a Grand-mother, and now designing the Marriage of her youngest Daughter: Madam de Cleve did often dis­course [Page 43] with her Mother of this Subject. ‘How is it possible, (says she) Madam, that his Majesty should yet retain a passion for the Duchess; 'tis strange that he should fix his Heart upon a Lady superior to him in years, who has been the Mistress of his Father, and, (if we may presume to credit report) of others too. 'Tis true, (replies Madam de Chartres) 'twas neither the Merit, nor yet the Constancy of Madam de Valentinois, that gave birth to his Majesties passion, nor yet conserves it; and 'tis in this his Majesty is the less excusable; for had this Lady had Beauty, or Youth, suitable to her Birth, or had she had so much worth as to have loved no other, or that her love to his Majesty had kept within the limits of Fidelity, or her Affection had had no other regard than his Royal Person, abstracted from the interest of Grandeur and Fortune, and without imploy­ing that power but for things that were just and honourable for the King, 'tis confest a per­son could not (without some injustice) have blamed the passion of this Prince. If I did believe I should not lye under the unhappy censure Women of my years undeservedly do, which take pleasure to relate the passa­ges of the Age they dwell in. I would give you the Relation of their Amours, and seve­ral other intrigues of the Court of the de­ceased [Page 44] King, which do not a little sympa­thize with those practicable at present. I am far from those reflections (replyed Ma­dam de Cleve) that I am sorry, Madam, that you have not been pleased to instruct me in the present, and that you have not learnt me the distinct Interests and Cabals of the Court. I am so ill read in them, that I believed there was not a day where­in the Constable was not in her Majesties Favour. Your Opinion is infinitely remote from the truth of it, (answers Madam de Chartres) the Queen has a perfect Hatred for the Constable, and if ever she has a power, he will be sure both to know and feel it. She is sensible that he has often informed the King, that of all his Children, none re­semble him more than his natural ones. I never suspected a misunderstanding here (replies Madam de Cleve) after I had been an Eye-witness of the care her Majesty took to solace him in his Confinement; the joy she was pleased to express at his inlarge­ment; and especially after she had treated him in the familiar phrase of Gossip with the King. If you shall measure (says Ma­dam de Chartres) things by their appearan­ces, you will often lye under a mistake; you must know, that Hearts and Tongues keep here no correspence together.’

[Page 45] ‘Give me leave to assume my story of the Duchess (says Madam de Chartres) and proceed; You must understand that she is called, The Diana of Poictiers; her Fami­ly is noble; she is descended from the an­cient Dukes of Acquitain; her Grand­father was the Natural Son of Lewis the Eleventh; in fine, her whole composition is made up of greatness; her Father had unfortunately engaged in the quarrel of the Constable of Bourbon, of which you have so often heard; he was condemned to lose his Head, and in order to it was conducted to the Scaffold; his Daughter, who had a charming Beauty, and which had alrea­dy kindled a Flame in the Kings Breast, interposed her interest, and obtained his pardon. 'Twas brought him in the fatal moment he expected the bloody stroke; the fear and terror he lay under had so far disordered his thoughts, he was not sensi­ble of his Majesties Grace and favour, so that the day following put a period to his life. His Daughter appeared at Court as the Kings Mistress: the Expedition for Italy, and the Kings Imprisonment, gave some di­version to this passion. After his Majesties return from Spain, and that Madam the Queen Regent went to meet him at Bayonne, she took all her Daughters with her, amongst [Page 46] which number was Mademoiselle de Pisse­leu, afterwards Duchess of d' Estampes. The King saw her, and became her prize; she was much inferiour, both in her Qua­lity, Wit, and Beauty, to Madam de Valen­nois, and she had nothing but her youth to recommend her to his Majesties favour: I have often heard her say, that she was born the same Day the Diana of Poictiers was married; but her mallice, not the truth, obliged her to speak it: For, if I am not mistaken, the Duchess of Valentinois mar­ried Monsieur de Breze, Grand-President of Normandy, at the same time the King had first a passion for Madam d' Estampes. There was never a greater picque in Nature than between these two Ladies: The Duchess of Valentinois could not in her heart pardon Madam de Estampes, notwithstanding she had divested her of the Title of The Kings Mistress, Madam de Estampes had an inve­teracy against the Duchess, because the King still kept her company. This Prince was not always constant to his Mistresses; there was one, 'tis true, which wore the Title and the Honour of it, but the Ladies of the lesser Faction, as they stile them, had the happiness sometimes to take their turns in his favour. The death of the Dauphin, who dyed at Tournon, and not [Page 47] without a suspition of poyson, gave him no small Disquiet: He had not that tenderness and affection for his second Son, our present King: He discovered not in him those incli­nations to vigour and courage: He was pleased to complain to Madam Valentinois, and told her, he would endeavour to create a passion in him for her, that she might infuse into him something more noble and gener­ous. It had the success, you see, 'tis up­wards of twenty years this passion had its Birth, and yet has stood the shock of all dif­ficulties and alterations.’

‘His deceased Majesty endeavour'd to op­pose it in its in fancy, and notwithstanding he had a kindness for the Duchess, either prompted by his jealousie, or Madam de Estampes (who was now upon the point of despair, seeing her Enemy in the Dauphin's Arms) was pleased to look upon this pas­sion with some indignation; of which he was not wanting to give his symptomes; his Son neither regarded his Anger nor his Hatred; nothing could oblige him either to lessen the value he had for her, nor yet hide it: At last his Majesty was forc'd to connive; the Dauphin's stubbornness much abated of his Royal favour, which he con­ferred in a greater measure upon the Duke of Orleans, his third Son: He was a Prince [Page 48] on whom Nature had been lavish of her Grace; but he was swelled with so much heat and ambition, and of a spirit so fierce, that it wanted a Curb. He had been a Prince of great worth and honour, had his Age been so kind as to have ripened his understanding.’

‘The quality the Dauphin held, and the fa­vour the King was pleased to shew the Duke of Orleans, had created so great an envy between them, it almost amounted to a de­gree of hatred: It took its being from their infancy, and has continued to this day. The Emperour, when he came through France, gave the precedency to the Duke of Orle­ans, which so much incensed the Dauphin that he would have obliged the Constable to arrest him without his Majesties Com­mand. The Constable durst not obey; the King blamed him that he took not his Sons advice, and when he bannisht him the Court, his reasons for it wanted not their dif­ferent Interpreters.’

‘The difference between these two Bro­thers gave fresh thoughts to the Duchess de Estampes, to endeavour to prop her self with the interest of the Duke of Orleans against the Duchess: It had its success: This Prince, without having the least pas­sion for her, did as zealously espouse her [Page 49] quarrel, as the Dauphin had done the Du­chess. This created two Cabals in the Court, such as you may easily imagine. These Intrigues were not limited within the management of the weaker Sex.’

‘The Emperour who had a great respect for the Duke of Orleans, had often offer'd him the Duchy of Millan; and in the Arti­cles of the Peace that was afterwards con­cluded, he gave him the hopes of the se­venteen Provinces, and his Daughter in marriage with them: The Dauphin neither inclined to the Match nor it; he employ'd the Constable, whom he ever lov'd, to make the King sensible of what importance it would be, to leave his Successor a Brother so powerful as the Duke of Orleans must be with the advantage of the Imperial Ally­ance and these Countries. The Constable yielded more easily to the Dauphins design, in that it was opposite to that of Madam d' Estampes, who was his declared Enemy, and who so passionately desired the Dukes advancement.’

‘The Dauphin at that time commanded his Majesties Army in Champagne, and had reduc'd that of the Empire to those ex­tremities, he had certainly ruin'd it, if the Duchess d' Estampes (fearing these great ad­vantages might retard the Peace and the ho­nour [Page 50] of the Dukes Allyance with the Em­perour) had not advis'd the Enemy to sur­prise Espernay, and the Castle of Rierry, which was their Magazine; they attempt­ed it, and succeeded, by which means they preserved the Army.’

‘This Duchess did not long enjoy the suc­cess of her Treason: Immediately after dy­ed the Duke of Orleans at Farmoutiers of a contagious disease. He was enamoured with one of the greatest Beauties of the Court, who was pleased to entertain the flame. I shall forbear to name her, for she has since lived under so close a retirement, and has with so much prudence disguised the passion she had for him, we ought in justice to be tender of her honour. The death of her Husband and the Duke bore even date together, which gave her the free­dom to shew those open marks of her grief and sorrow, which otherwise she had been enforc'd to hide.’

‘The King did not long survive the Prince his Son, for he dyed within two years after. He recommends to the Dauphin the Cardi­nal of Tournon, and the Admiral d' Annebault, without the least mention of the Constable, whom he had confined to Chantilly; not­withstanding his Fathers commands, he calls him home, and makes him the grand Mini­ster of State.’

[Page 51] ‘Madam d' Estampes was discarded, and re­ceived all the ill Treatment she could ex­pect from so powerful and inveterate an E­nemy. The Duchess of Valentinois was not satisfied till she had glutted her self with her revenge upon this Duchess, and the rest who had faln under her displeasure. Her in­terest has been more absolute over the King since he came to the Crown, than when he was the Dauphin. These twelve years since he has reign'd she has been the uncontroula­ble Mistress of all his Actions, she has had the disposal of all Governments and Affairs, she has obliged him to bannish the Cardinal of Tournon, the Chancellour, and Villeray; all that have endeavour'd to eclypse her power have perisht in the attempt. The Count de Taix, Grand Master of the Artil­lery, who had no kindness for her, taking the liberty to reflect upon her Gallants, and particularly the Count de Brissac, of whom the King had a jealousie, she so subtilly plaid her Cards, that he was in disgrace and divested of his emply: and what ren­ders the thing more strange, she procured it for the Count de Brissac, who by her means had the honour to be since created a Marshal of France. The Kings jealousie began to swell to that degree in him, he could no longer endure the test of it: but that which [Page 52] in another would have appeared more sharp and violent, was strangely corrected in him, by the great respect he had for this Lady; In so much that he durst not (if we may presume to use this saucy Dialect with a Prince) remove his Rival, but under the pretence of preferring him to the Govern­ment of Piedmont. He has lived there se­veral years, and only return'd this last Win­ter, under a pretext of recruiting the Troops under his command; and for other necessary supplies for the Army. The am­bition to see the Duchess of Valentinois, and the fear of being forgotten, had certain­ly the greatest share in that Journey. The King was observed to receive him coldly; the Family of Guise, who loves her not, but yet dares not declare the cause, imploy'd the Viscount, his mortal Enemy, to obstruct the Grant of what he design'd himself by his Journey. 'Twas no hard matter to compass it; the King hated him, and his presence gave him no small disquiet; inso­much that he was forc'd to return, without having had the happiness to reap the fruits of his Voyage, which was only to give him an opportunity to re-kindle the Flame his passion had made in the heart of the Duchess, which he feared his absence might extinguish: His Majesty wanted no [Page 53] other subjects of his jealousie, but they not being known gave him no provocation to complain.’

‘I know not, Daughter, (says Madam de Chartres) if you may not find that I have instructed you in some things more than you are willing to know. I am so far from complaining, (replyes Madam de Cleve) that did I not fear to be troublesom to you, I would desire you to enlarge upon several Circumstances which I am ignorant of.’

The passion that Monsieur de Nemours had for Madam de Cleve was so violent in its O­riginal, that it seem'd to have robb'd him of all his content, and the very thoughts of those he had a kindness for; nay, even such with whom he converst during her absence; 'twas his care to frame excuses to disingage himself from them; he could not allow himself the patience to give Ear to their Com­plaints, nor make returns to their reproaches. Madam la Dauphin, for whom he had inclina­tions not ordinarily passionate, yet he was scarce able to confine them within his Breast; Madam de Cleve had made that impression there. His impatience for England began to cool, he seem'd not to pursue with much Zeal his necessary dispatches for that Jour­ney.

He often made his visits to the Dauphin-Queen, [Page 54] that he might have the happiness to pay his respects to Madam de Cleve, who was frequently there; neither was he concern'd at the liberty some took to imagin (what o­thers thought) of the passion he had for that Princess. Madam de Cleve was of that va­lue with him, he was resolved rather to hide from her the sentiments of his heart, than ex­pose her honour to the publick. He forbore even to communicate it to the Viscount de Chartres, who was his Confident, and to whom his Bosome lay ever open. He used a Conduct so prudent, and which he mana­ged with so much care, that the Argus's of the Court could not discover the least symp­tome of any kindness for this Lady, but in the Chevalier de Guise. Madam de Cleve her self had continued a stranger to them, had not the inclination she had for that Prince obliged her to keep a close Watch on all his Actions, which at last convinc'd her.

She seem'd not to have the same dispositi­on to make an Overture of this adventure to her Mother, as she had already done by all the rest; she was resolved to lodge it in no other Breast but her own; but alas, she was mistaken; Madam de Chartres was as sensible of it as of her love for this Prince; the knowledge of which gave her no small dis­quiet. She understood the danger this poor [Page 55] young Lady was exposed unto, by the af­fection she had for a person of this Prince's Merit: Her jealousie was afterwards unhappi­ly confirmed by a passage which suddenly en­sued.

The Marshal of St. Andre, who courted all opportunities to make his splendid Treats, humbly begg'd of his Majesty, that he would with the two Queens do him the honour to take a Collation at his house, which was newly finisht. 'Twas thought he did it colou­rably, that Madam de Cleve might share in the greatness of this Entertainment, in which no man could possibly be more prodigal or profuse.

Some few days before that which was ap­pointed for the Supper, the Dauphin King, who had not his health, was indisposed and admitted of no visits. The Queen, his La­dy, had spent the whole day with him; the Dauphin being better in the Evening, the persons of quality, who came to wait upon him, were introduc'd into his Bed-Chamber. The Queen was pleased to withdraw into ano­ther Chamber, where she found Madam de Cleve, and some other Ladies, with whom she was most familiarly pleased to converse.

It being now late, and her Majesty not drest, she went not to wait upon the Queen, but obliged them to excuse her; she gives or­der [Page 56] for her Jewels to be brought to her, that she might give Madam de Cleve her choice of them to wear at the Ball the Marshal was to make. In the interim in comes the Prince of Conde, his quality gave him a free entrance every where. You come (says the Queen to him) from the King my Husband, pray what news have you there? They are maintaining, Madam, (replyes the Prince) a strong Argu­ment against the Duke of Nemours, and he defends the Thesis with that heat and obstina­ey, as if he himself were the subject of it. I believe he has a Mistress that may be uneasie to him at a Ball, that he thinks is so trouble­some a thing to find her there. How, (says the Dauphin Queen) will Monsieur de Ne­mours be so unkind as to impose upon his Mi­stress? This Power me thinks might better sute with the authority of a Husband, than the obsequionsness of a Servant. Monsieur de Nemours (answers the Prince) finds by expe­rience, that they are the most insupportable things in Nature to a poor Lover; for if he be so happy that his Mistress has a passion for him, he must be sure to stand the Test and Tryal of her frowns for several days together. He says there's not a Lady of them all but will be so diverted with the vanity of the Habit she must appear in; she cannot be at leisure as much as to allow a thought towards him: And [Page 57] concludes the folly epidemical: Nay he does not rest here; he is sensible that when they are at these Balls, they have no other thoughts but to please in general: and if once they begin to set a value on their own Beauties, he fears the Servant has the least share in their admiration of it. He argues yet farther, if it be a mans unhappiness to be neglected, his torment is the greater in one of these Assemblies, where his Mistress takes no notice of them; for the more they are honoured in publick, the more mi­serable does a man think himself that's slighted by them: They are jealous that their Beauty gives Birth to passions to their prejudice: And affirms there is no greater torment than to see her there.

Madam de Cleve though she had given Ear to what the Prince had said, yet seem'd to take no notice of it. She was sensible what interest she had in the opinion of Mon­sieur de Nemours; and above all the uneasie­ness the presence of his Mistress would give him there where he could not be; the King was dispatching him to the Duke of Fer­rara.

The Dauphin Queen could not forbear to smile, as well as the Prince who condemned the Dukes opinion. There is only one occasi­on (says the Prince) in which Monsieur de Nemours can dispence with her presence there, [Page 58] and that neither but when 'tis given by himself; and he was pleased to tell us, that the last year he gave one to your Majesty; and says, his Mistress did him the honour to come, under a pretence to wait on you. 'Tis an obligation a Mistress lays upon a Servant, when she is pleas­ed to delight in the Divertiscments he makes her. And your Majesty must think it not a little pleasing to a Lover, that his Mistress sees him Master of a Place, the Court is pleased to do him the honour to compose, and which gives her an opportunity to be an Eye-witness of the Gallantry with which he acquits himself. Mon­sieur de Nemours (says the Dauphin-Queen) had reason to allow it there, where the numbers were so great of those who wear the Titles of his Mistresses, that had they not been there, the Ball had been but thin.

The discourse the Prince of Conde used in giving her Majesty the sentiment of Monsieur de Nemours concerning Balls, diverted Ma­dam de Cleves thoughts from that intended by the Marshal de St. Andre. She was easily convinc'd it was unhandsome to receive a Treat from one that lov'd her; and was glad of the opportunity to decline it to oblige the Prince. She accepted notwithstanding of the favour of the Dauphin-Queen; and in the Evening she shew'd them to her Mo­ther; she told her she had no design to use [Page 59] them, and that she was sensible the Marshal de St. Andre made this splendid Entertain­ment, to give himself the occasion to shew the honour he has for her, and questioned not but he would have the vanity to boast his happiness, that he made her a sharer in it; ‘and I hear (says she) under that unhappy pre­text he may involve me in some trouble and inconvenience.’

Madam de Chartes was pleased to oppose her Daughters Opinion, as being singular; but discovering her obstinacy, she yielded to it; and advised her to feign her self indisposed, for she believed no other excuse would be al­lowed but that, which she was obliged to disguise with privacy and discretion too, lest it should reach the knowledge of the Com­pany, and expose her to its censure. Madam de Cleve consents to pass the time away with her Mother, she had no inclination for the place, she thought not happy without the Princes presence, who leaves the Court be­fore the day that brought her heart to the test.

Monsieur de Nemours returns the day after the Ball, and was informed she was not there; but not knowing whether some might not report to her the discourse he maintained in the Dauphins Chamber, he began to questi­on if he was so happy as at first he thought himself.

[Page 60]The day after his arrival he waited upon the Queen, and as he was discoursing with Madam the Dauphin, came in Madam de Char­tres, and Madam de Cleve, her Daughter, to pay their Respects to their Majesties. Ma­dam de Cleve was in a careless dress, that she might the better palliate the indisposition she had borrowed; but she had this unhappiness, her Face did not correspond with the Coun­terfeit. You look so well (says Madam the Dauphin) nothing can convince my thoughts that you have been otherwise. I fear the Prince of Conde's repetition of the Argument Monsieur de Nemours held in the Dauphin's Bed-Chamber in prejudice of Balls, has had an ill influence upon you; you thought you should do the Marshal too great an honour in sharing in the noble Treat he gave the Court, and therefore vouchsafed us not your Company. Ma­dam de Cleve could not forbear to blush, for she was sensible of what Madam the Dau­phin guest so well at: And the more, because she was pleased to hint it to her in the Prin­ces presence.

From hence her Mother judg'd the reason why she declined the Ball; and to prevent Monsieur de Nemours apprehension of it; was pleased to reply to the Dauphin-Queen. Madam, (says she) your Majesty does my Daugh­ter a greater honour than she deserves. She [Page 61] was unfeignedly ill, but I think had I not in­terposed my authority, she had exposed her health to wait on your Majesties, to have had the pleasure to share in the last Nights Divertise­ment the Marshal was pleased to give you. Madam the Dauphin was satisfied with what Madam de Chartres told her; but Monsieur de Nemours was not a little concerned, that there was a colour for it. Notwithstanding that the blushes of Madam de Cleve deserved to justifie the truth: Madam de Chartres was sensibly offended that she had given Monsieur de Nemours the vanity to believe he had pre­vented her appearance there; and Madam de Cleve on the other side could scarce dis­guise her resentment, that any should harbour that opinion of her.

Notwithstanding that the Congress at Ci­rean was broken up, the Negotiations for a Peace still continued, things at last were so happily disposed, that towards the end of February they met again at Catean Cambresis. His Majesty was pleased to commission the same Plenipotentiaries he had before. The absence of the Marshal of St. Andre removed a Rival, who was to be feared, not so much for the impression his Merit could make upon the heart of this Lady, as for the guard his watchful Eye kept upon all those that made their addresses to her.

[Page 62]Madam de Chartres was not willing her Daughter should understand she had disco­vered her passion for the Prince, to prevent her Jealousie of those things she had an inten­tion to discourse her in, she took an occasion one day to enlarge (and passionately too) up­on his Worth and Merit, but could not for­bear to mix some Venome with his Praise, to make her sick with him. She told her he had so great a stock of Prudence, it would not allow him the vanity to be amorous, and that his Conversation with Ladies was only his divertisement. 'Tis thought (says she) he has a passion for the Dauphin-Queen, I meet him oftenthere; and I advise you to decline his company; for the Court, being an Eye-witness of the kindness her Majesty is pleased to shew you, will be apt to give you the Title of a Con­fident; and you ought to be sensible what Re­putation that will purchase you. If this Re­port continue long, my advise is farther, that you pay not such often visits to that Queen, lest you find your self embroil'd in one of the Gallan­tries of the Court.

Madam de Cleve (which was a stranger to the Amours of the Dauphin-Queen and him) was surprised at the knowledge of it; and when she perceived how much she was abased in her sentiments of this Prince, she could not forbear to discover it in her Coun­tenance; [Page 63] which she did not well disguise, but her Mother took notice of it. There came some Ladies to give Madam de Chartres a visit, Which interrupted the discourse, and Madam de Cleve retired into her Closet.

I am not able to express the sorrow and re­gret she had at this Relation, and particular­ly when it reflects upon the folly that gave birth to her passion for Monsieur de Nemours. She durst not hitherto discover it to her Mo­ther: She was sensible the kindness she had for him was the sole ambition of Monsieur de Cleve; and you cannot blame her, if she could not forbear to quarrel with her fond inclinations, that she should harbour that love for another, which was only due to the Merit of her Husband. She was sensibly toucht with a Jealousie that Monsieur de Ne­mours did only interpose his pretence to her, to facilitate his addresses to the Dauphin-Queen; the apprehension of it encouraged her to communicate it to her Mother.

In the morning she enters her Mothers Chamber, to execute the resolutions of the night before, but finding her indisposed, she deferred it to another opportunity. Her di­stemper was so inconsiderable, that it divert­ed not Madam de Cleve from waiting upon the Dauphin-Queen in the Afternoon. Her Majesty was retired into her Closet with two [Page 64] or three Ladies who had the greatest share in her Bosome. We are, Madam, (says the Queen, discovering Madam de Cleve) dis­coursing of Monsieur de Nemours, and equally admire the change we find in him since his re­turn from Bruxelles. Before his Iourney he had an infinity of Mistresses, and he can only blame himself for it, for he was pleased to divide himself equally between those of Me­rit and those of none; but since his return, there is so great a Metamorphoses, he vouch­safes neither to regard the one nor other, I my self perceive it in his humour, it has lost its u­sual gayety.

Madam de Cleve returns no answer: She began to think, and not without some in­dignation, that they had taken up this dis­course of the alteration in this Prince, only to discover, if she was not mistaken, some marks of her passion for him: This began to create in her an antipathy against the Queen, that she should impose upon her the reasons of a thing which was best known to her self. She was not able to hide her resentment from her Majesty; the Ladies retiring, she took the liberty to address her self to the Queen, saying, Madam, are you pleased to point at me, when you alone are the subject of this change in the Prince? You are unkind, (replies the Dau­phin-Queen) you must be sensible I can keep [Page 65] nothing from you. I confess the Duke before he went to Bruxelles, might have some intention to let me know he did not hate me; but since his return, I believe he has forgotten his reso­lution. I declare I am impatient to know the Author of this change. I admire he should hide it from the Viscount de Chartres, who keeps the Key of his heart. Had he a Passion for a Person I bad a Power over, I might be so hap­py as to understand this Alteration. The Dauphin-Queen delivered it in a Dialect Madam de Cleve could have ill resented, but that she would not cloud the Debonairness of the humour she first received it in.

Upon her return home to her Mothers, she found her in a worse condition than when she went to Court: Her Feaver was so vio­lent, that it daily increased upon her; Inso­much her Physitians judged it would be of some continuance. Madam de Cleve was so sensibly afflicted, she quitted not her Mothers Chamber. Mounsieur de Cleve paid his vi­sits daily to Madam de Chartres, not so much for the interest he had in that Lady, or to divert his Wifes Grief and Sorrow, as to have the happiness to injoy her company; for his Passion had abated none of its primitive Heat and Vigour.

Mounsieur de Nemours, who had a kind­ness for Mounsieur de Cleve; took all occasi­ons [Page 66] to demonstrate it to him, since his return from Bruxelles; during the distemper of Ma­dam de Chartres. The Prince found several opportunities of seeing Madam de Cleve, un­der a pretence of her Husbands company to go abroad with him; he came not thither, but at such hours he knew him not to be there; and under an excuse of waiting for his re­turn, he spent some hours in the withdrawing Room, where several Persons of Quality came daily to pay their Complements of con­dolence to the Daughter, upon her Mothers indisposition. The affliction she lay under seemed to Mounsieur de Nemours to have made no alteration in her Beauty. He endea­voured to make her sensible of the interest he had in her Grief; but in a dialect so passionate, it convin'd her that Madam la Dauphin, was not the subject of his Change.

She could scarce forbear to discover her indignation in her countenance; notwith­standing she took pleasure in his company. But when he forbore to visit her, and that she considered the Charms her Person carried with it, had given the first Flame to his Passion, she was scarce able to forbear to hate her self, upon the apprehension of it.

Her Feaver got such footing of her daily, that her Physitians began to despair of her Health, she received the fatal Tidings with [Page 67] a Courage worthy of her Piety and Vertue. After they had taken their last leaves of her, and the Chamber was cleared of the Compa­ny, she calls her Daughter to her.

We must part Daughter (says Madam de Chartres) taking her by the hand. The dan­ger that I leave you in, and the occasion you have for me, add to the regret I have to leave you. I am sensible you have a Passion for Mounsieur de Nemours, I ask you not to con­firm me in it. I am no longer able to make use of your sincerity, in your future conduct. I have long since discoursed your inclination, but I have hitherto forborn to speak to you of it, that I might give you no jealousie, that I un­derstood it. You must needs be sensible, that you are upon the point of the Precipice. There ought to be powerful endeavours used to stop you in your carrear. Reflect upon the Duty you owe your Husband, and forget not also that that's due to me. Consider you are going a­bout to Shipwrack the Reputation you have gotten, and which I have so passionately wisht you. Take up strength and courage to quit the Court; Desire your Husband to take you thence. Fear not to pursue those Paths which at first may seem hard and uneasie to you. How un­pleasant soever they may appear to you in the beginning, you will find more sweetness in them in the end, than in the Vanities of the Court.

[Page 68] If any other Motives, than those of Piety and Obedience, could oblige you to embrace the thing I wish; I would tell you, if any thing can disturb my happiness in a better World, it will be the consideration of your Fall. But if this mischief be inevitable, I shall welcome Death with joy, that I am not the unhappy witness of it.

Madam de Cleve bathed her Mothers hand, which she had inclosed in her own, with a flood of Tears. Adue (says she) my Child, let us put a Period to the discourse, that will dissolve us both into Grief and Tears: Forget not (I beseech you) the last Legacy of your Mother.

Having concluded this short admonition; she turns her self upon her Pillow, and com­manding her Daughter to call in her Women, she would not allow her the liberty to reply. Madam de Cleve left the Chamber; and you may easily conjecture in what condition too. Madam de Chartres, gave up all the thoughts of the little Remnant of her life, towards a preparation for a happier being. She spun out two days longer, in which time she would not admit her Daughter into her pre­sence; though she was the only thing of va­lue she left behind her.

Poor Madam de Cleve was dissolved in­to trouble and tears. Her Husband never [Page 69] left her, and as soon as her Mothers eyes were closed, he conducts her into the Coun­try, to remove her from a place which gave her no other objects, but of grief and sorrow. 'Twas wonderful to observe, that notwith­standing the memory of her Love and ten­derness to her, ought to have had the great­est share in her discontent; the necessity of her Mothers Conduct, to arm her against this Prince's Charms, had also its part in it. She begins to see her unhappiness to be thus forlorn, in an Exigent wherein she was so little Mistress of her thoughts, and in a season she so much wanted one in whose Breast she might deposit her complaints. The re­spect of Monsieur de Cleve's carriage to her, obliged her to wish more than ever, that she might not be failing in any thing that might answer her love and duty. She en­deavoured to repair her former errour, by greater evidences of her kindness to him, than she had shewn before. She could not indure he should part from her, she seemed (as it were) forcibly to fix her self upon him; that he might shelter her from the trouble­some Addresses of the Duke of Nemours.

The Duke came to give a visit to Mounsi­eur de Cleve in the Country, with design to pay another to his Lady; which she refused. And being sensible she could not avoid his [Page 70] Courtship, she had taken a resolution to pre­vent the occasion, and not see him.

Mounsieur de Cleve came to Paris to com­pleat his Train, and promised his Lady to return the next day; but he disappointed her, for he came not till the day following. I ex­pected you all yesterday (says Madam de Cleve) And I ought to chide you for your breach of Faith. You must believe, if I were capable of any new affliction in the condition I am in, the Death of Madam de Tournon, which was brought me this very Morning, had cer­tainly given it me. I had been less concerned, had I not had the happiness to know her; she is a subject worthy our Pity, when we consider that a young Lady of her Beauty should dye so sudenly, as in two dayes. But it troubles me most, when I reflect upon her as the only Person in the world, that was dear to me for her merit and discretion.

I am very sorry I have disappointed you, an­swers Mounsieur de Cleve; My presence was so necessary to contribute to the consolation of a poor unfortunate Gentleman, that I could not in honour leave him. As for Madam de Tour­non, be not afflicted at her loss, if you re­gret it as of a Lady, whose prudence was de­serving your value and esteem. You make me admire you, (says Madam de Cleve) for I have often heard you say, that there was not a Lady [Page 71] in the Court, for whom you had a greater Honour. 'Tis true, (replies Mounsieur de Cleve,) but you women are incomprehensible; and when I have seen them all, I find my self so happy in you alone, I cannot sufficiently value my own content. You are pleased to esteem me more than I deserve (says Madam de Cleve fetching a sigh,) and if I have not hitherto learnt the method to indear my self, give me the Lesson Madam de Tournon has taught you. 'Tis long since that I learnt it, (replyes Mounsieur de Cleve) and I was sensible she had a passion for the Count de Sancerre, to whom she gave some hopes. I cannot believe (says Madam de Cleve) that Madam de Tournon, after the great an­tipathy she had exprest for Marriage, when she was a Widdow; and the publick declara­tions she made, never to have a thought for it, should flattter Mounsieur de Sancerre. Had she been so just (replies Mounsieur de Cleve) as to have bounded her folly there, she had not given the Court the subject of so much discourse to her disadvantage; but that which surprized it, was, at the same time she gave an equal as­surance to Monsieur Estouteville. And I'll give you the relation of it.

YOU are not a stranger to the Friend­ship between Sancerre and me. Yet, great as it was, when about two years since he fell in love with Madam de Tournon, he made it his business to conceal it as closely from me, as from others; and had the dex­terity to keep it so private, that I never sus­pected any such thing. Madam Tournon affected a way of living so extremely retir'd, and appear'd afflicted to that degree, for the death of her Husband, that it was the gene­ral [Page 73] opinion, there was no comforting of her after a loss she so much lamented. She scarce admitted a visit from any person, but Sancerre's Sister, nor visited any other; and at his Sisters Lodging, Sancerre fell in Love with her.

One Evening there was to be a Play at Court; and all things being ready, the Actors waited the coming of the King and Madam de Valentinois; when News was brought, she was not well, and the King would not come: Every one guess'd her indisposition was really nothing else but some quarrel with the King: and though all the Court knew how jealous he had been of the Marshal of Brisac, while he continued at Court, yet the Marshal being some days be­fore return'd for Piemont, we could not imagine the cause of their falling out: As I was discoursing of it to Sancerre, Mounsieur d' Anville came into the Hall, and whisper'd me in the Ear, that the King was so vex'd and so angry it would make any one pity him: that when the jars he lately had with the Duchess of Valentinois, about the Mar­shal Brisac, were compos'd a few days ago, the King had given her a Ring, and pray'd her to wear it. That as she was a dressing to come to the Play, the King miss'd the Ring on her Finger, and ask'd what was become of it. [Page 74] She appear'd astonish'd she had it not, and call'd to her Women for it; who unluckily, or for want of instruction to the contrary, presently answer'd, it was four or five days since they saw it.

'Tis precisely so long, continues Moun­sieur d' Anville, since the Marshal Brisac left the Court, and the King makes no doubt, but as she bid him adieu, she gave him the Ring. The thought of this cut the King to the quick, and kindled afresh his late jealousie in­to so sudden and violent a flame, that it put him in an extraordinary passion, and made him break out into sharp expressions, and very reproachful Language against her. He is new­ly gone into his Lodgings extremely afflicted, but whether more with the thought of the Duchess having made a sacrifice of his Ring to the Marshal Brisac, or with fear of having displeas'd her by his passion, I cannot resolve you.

Mounsieur d' Anville had no sooner made an end of telling me the News, but I went to Sancerre to acquaint him with it. I told it him as a secret, newly intrusted with me, and charg'd him not to speak of it.

The morrow betimes I went to my Sister-in-Law's, and found at her Bed-side Madam de Tournon, who had no great Kindness for Madam de Valentinois, and knew well enough [Page 75] my Sister-in-Law had small reason to think well of her: Sancerre, when the Play was done, went to Madam de Tournon's, and gave her an account of the quarrel between the King and the Duchess, which Madam de Tournon was then come to relate to my Sister-in-Law, not knowing Sancerre had had it from me.

Assoon as I came up to my Sister-in-Law, she told Madam de Tournon I might be trust­ed with the Relation she had newly made, and, without further expecting permssion from Madam de Tournon, my Sister-in-Law told me word by word, all I had told Sancerre the night before. This, you may believe, surpriz'd me very much: I looked upon Madam de Tournon, she appear'd disorder'd: Her disor­der rais'd a suspition in me: I had not told any but Sancerre the News: as we were going from the Play he had quitted me, without telling me the reason: It came into my mind I had heard him speak much in commendation of Madam de Tournon: All this together open'd my Eyes, and made me easily to discern an intrigue of Gallantry between Sancerre and her, and that when he left me, he went to see her.

I was so vext to find he kept this Adventure from me: I let fall some expressions that made Madam de Tournon sensible how in­discreet [Page 76] she had been: I brought her to her Coach, and told her at parting, I envy'd his happiness who had given her the News of the quarrel between the King and Madam de Valentinois.

I went presently in search of Sancerre, re­proached him with his unkindness, and (with­out acquainting him how I made the discove­ry) I told him, I knew the passion he had for Madam de Tournon: He was forc'd to confess it, and then I told how I came to know it, and he as frankly gave me an exact account of their Adventure; adding, that though he were a younger Brother, and could not pretend to so great a Match, yet he had encourage­ment enough from the Lady to try his fortune. You cannot imagine the surprise I was in at his discourse: I advis'd him to hasten the conclusion of the Marriage, and told him he must provide for the worst, having to deal with a Woman that did so neatly impose up­on the publick, by acting with that artifice a part so different from what he knew she really was: He answer'd, the death of her Husband had really troubled her: but the inclination she had for him dissipated that trouble, and she was unwilling the world should on the sudden be witness of the Change. He ad­ded other reasons in excuse of her, which gave me light enough to see how deeply he was in [Page 77] Love. He assur'd me he would procure her consent, to let me know the passion he had for her, since she had made the first discove­ry towards it: nor was he worse than his word, though she was very loath to give way to an open acknowledgement: and thence­forward I was their Confident to a very high measure.

Never did I see a Woman carry her self with a Civility so suitable to the Exigences of her Servants condition, yet I confess I won­der'd she still affected to appear troubled for the death of her Husband. Sancerre was so deeply in Love, and so pleas'd with her kind usage of him; that he durst not press the conclusion of the Marriage, for fear of making her suspect he Courted her more for interest than for Love. Yet he spoke to her of it, and she appeared willing to be marry'd to him: With that she began to quit her solitude, and appear abroad to the World: She visited my Sister-in-Law at such hours she was sure to find some of the Court at her Lodgings. Sancerre came seldom thither: but those who were at my Sister-in-Laws every Night, and saw Madam de Tournon frequently there, thought her very amiable.

She had not long quitted her solitude, but Sancerre fancy'd she coold in her passion for him. He often told me so; though I made [Page 78] very light of it. At last when he inform'd me, that instead of concluding the marriage, she put it off, I thought he had ground e­nough for apprehension. I answer'd, it was no wonder a passion two years old should be a little abated; and were it still as high as ever, possi­bly it was not strong enough to oblige her to marry him; yet he had not just cause of complaint, being satisfy'd such a Marriage would (as to the Publick) be much to her prejudice, not only for that he was not a com­petent Match for her, but that it would reflect upon her Reputation: that all he could desire, was, she should not deceive him, by giving him false hopes. I added, that if she had not the power to marry him, or if she declar'd she was in Love with another, he must not be angry nor complain, but continue the esteem, and persevere to pay her the respect he had for her: I give you, said I, the Counsel I would take in the like Case; for I am so great a Friend to sincerity, that I believe should my Mistress or my wife confess to me ingeniously, another better pleas'd them than I, it would trouble me without making me angry: I would lay by the Person of a Lover or a Husband, to be at liberty only to advise her and to make my Complaint.

Madam de Cleves blush'd at these Words, wherein she discern'd something so nearly re­lateing to her present condition, that very much [Page 79] surpriz'd her, and put her into a disorder, out of which it was not in her power to recover her self for some time.

Sancerre, continues Mounsieur de Cleve, acquainted Madam de Tournon with the ad­vice I had given him. But she took that care to satisfie him, and appear'd so much offended at his suspitions, that she left him fully assur'd of the reallity of her kindness for him. How­ever she put off the Marriage till after his re­turn from a Long Journey he was to take, yet she carry'd her self so well till his depar­ture, and appear'd so afflicted at it, that I thought as well as Sancerre she really lov'd him. He hath been gone about three months, and you have so wholly taken me up ever since, I scarce had the opportunity to see Madam de Tournon in his absence, and knew only that Sancerre was suddenly expected.

Two days ago, when I came to Paris, hear­ing of her death; I sent to Sancerre's Lodgings, to enquire what News of him: they sent me Word he was arriv'd the Night before, being the very same Madam de Tournon dyed on: I went immediately to see him, doubting very much what condition I should find him in, but the trouble I saw him under exceeded my imagination.

Never did I see sorrow so deep, and so Tender: Assoon as he saw me, he burst [Page 80] into Tears, and imbracing me. I shall never see her more, says he, I shall never see her more: she is dead; I was not worthy of her, but I shall quickly follow her.

Having said this, he held his peace: af­terwards from time to time, repeating, she is gone, I shall see her no more: He fell again into Tears and Lamentations; he was like a Man distracted: He told me he had receiv'd but few Letters from her in his absence, but that he knew her so well he wonder'd not at it, being sufficiently assur'd she was al­ways very shye of sending Letters: yet he made no doubt but she would have been mar­ry'd to him at his return. He took her for the most amiable and most faithful Person in the World, and thought she lov'd him with a great deal of tenderness, and lost her at the time he hop'd to have made sure of her for his own for ever. These thoughts plung'd him into deep affliction, which, I confess, mov'd my pity, and made me look upon him as an object worthy serious Commiseration.

I was forc'd to leave him to go to the King, but promis'd to return in a very short time, and accordingly did so; I was never so sur­priz'd, as when at my return I found him quite another Man: He was in his Chamber with fury in his face, sometimes going, some­times standing still, as if he had been mad. [Page 81] Come, come, says he to me, Come see the most desperate of Men: I am a thousand times more unfortunate than I was a while ago, and what I have newly heard of Madam de Tournon is worse than her death.

I look'd on this disorder as an effect of his grief, and could not imagine any thing could be worse than the death of a Mistress one loves, and who loves him again. I told him, while he kept within bounds, I ap­prov'd his passion, and pity'd his sorrow, but he was not to expect I should bemoan him any longer, if he gave himself up to despair, and would run out of his Wits. Happy had it been for me, crys he, had I long since run out of my Wits, and my life too: Madam de Tournon was false to me, and I am so un­fortunate, as not to have discover'd her in­fidelity till the morrow after her death, at a time when my heart is at once full of the most passionate Love Man is capable of, and pierc'd through and through with grief, the smartest that ever was felt; I retain at this moment in my fancy the impression of her Image as the model of per­fection, not in my Eyes only, but in the Iudgment of all Mankind, when the same instant I see my self deceiv'd, and find she deserves not my sorrow. Yet I am as much troubled at her death as if she had been true to me, and resent her infidelity as if she were Living: Had I heard of her inconstancy before she had dy'd, [Page 82] anger, jealousie, and rage would have harden'd my heart against a sense of the loss of her, but the misery of my condition is such, I am inca­pable of comfort, yet know not how to hate her.

Judge you whether I was not surpriz'd at Sancerres expressions. I ask'd him how he came to know she had been false to him. He answer'd, I was no sooner gone out of his Chamber, but Estouteville his intimate friend, but altogethor a stranger to his Love for Ma­dam de Tournon, came in to see him; that as soon as he sat down he fell a crying, and begg'd his pardon for having conceal'd from him what he was now come to tell him, that he intreated his pity; that he was come to open his very heart to him, and that of all the men in the World, he was the most griev'd at the death of Madam de Tournon.

I was so surpriz'd at his nameing her, that though I was just upon answering, I was more griev'd at it than he, yet I had not the power to say so. He went on with his story, and told me he had been six Months in love with her: that he was still for making me acquaint­ed with it, but she had expresly forbidden it, and with so strict a charge he durst not disobey her. That he had had the good fortune to please her assoon almost as he had fallen in love with her: that they had con­ceal'd their passion from all the World: that he had never been publickly at her house, that [Page 83] he had the pleasure to see himself effectually capable of making her lay aside her sorrow for the death of her Husband, and that just as she dy'd he should have marry'd her, and that their Marriage, which really was an effect of love, was to have past in the world as a pure effect of duty and obedience: that in order to this she had prevail'd with her Fa­ther to command her to marry him, to pre­vent the Censures of the World, and stop the Mouths of those who would have cry'd out at the great alteration of her Conduct, which had appear'd so averse from the thoughts of a second Marriage.

While Estouteville was speaking, conti­nues Sancerre, I believ'd all he said; his dis­course seem'd so probable, and the more for that about the time he said he first fell in Love with her, I first observ'd a change in her. But the next moment I thought him a Lyar or a Mad-man. I was going to tell him so, but was prevail'd upon by the desire I had of a fuller discovery, to question him further, and to throw in objections against what he said. I proceeded so far towards convincing my self of my misfortune, that he ask'd me if I knew Madam de Tournon's hand-writing. With that, he threw on my Bed four Letters of hers, and her Picture. At that very instant my Brother came in. [Page 84] Estouteville was so blubber'd with crying, he was forc'd to go out to avoid being seen: telling me he would come again in the E­vening, to fetch what he left with me. I sent away my Brother, pretending my self ill; so impatient was I to read those Letters, in hopes to find something there, to make me dis-believe what Estouteville had said. But alas, what found I there? what tenderness, what Oaths, what assurances of marrying him. Never had she Writ such Letters to me: Thus, adds he, am I assaulted at once with grief for her death, and vexation for her falsness: Two evils often compar'd, but seldom felt by the same person at once. To my shame be it spoken, the loss of her still troubles me more than her inconstancy, and I cannot find in my heart to think she deserv'd death for her Treachery. Were she living I should take pleasure in reproaching her, and taking my Revenge of her, by letting her know how unjust she was; But I shall never see her more, says he again, I shall never see her more. This is the greatest misfortune: O that I could restore her to life, though with the loss of my own! yet what do I wish for? were she alive again, she would be Estouteville's: How happy was I yesterday, crys he, how happy was I when the most sorrowful of Men: Yet my sorrow appear'd reasonable, and it was a [Page 85] pleasure to think it my duty never to be com­forted: To day every thing I do me thinks is unreasonable: I pay a passion she only feign'd for me, that tribute of grief I thought justly due to a sincere affection. It is not in my pow­er to hate or to love the memory of her: I am incapable of comfort, yet know not how to grieve for her. However, says he, turning short towards me, I conjure you, take care Estouteville come not in sight of me. I abhor the very name of him. I know well enough I have no cause to complain of—him, it was my fault not to tell him I lov'd Madam de Tournon. Had he known it, perhaps he would never have made an address to her, nor she have been false to me. He made it his business to find me out, to communicate his sorrows to me. I can­not but pity him. Ha, cryes he, has he not reason to be sorry, he lov'd Madam de Tour­non, was beloved of her, and shall never see her more; yet I find by my self I cannot chuse but hate him. However, I conjure you once more, let me not see him.

Sancerre after this fell a crying again, he was sorry for Madam de Tournon, he spoke to her, and gave her the kindest expressions ima­ginable: presently he hates her, he com­plains of her, he Reproaches and Curses her: When I observed his Condition I knew I should want some help to quiet him. I sent for his Brother, [Page 86] whom I had newly left with the King: I gave him the meeting in the Anti-chamber, to give him an account of Sancerres condition: We gave order to prevent his seeing Estoute­ville, and spent part of the Night in endeavour­ing to bring him to himself. This morning I found him more troubled than ever: I left his Brother with him and came to you.

I am extremely surpriz'd at the News, says Madam de Cleves, I thought Madam de Tour­non incapable either of Love or Deceit. 'Tis not possible any one, replyes Mounsieur de Cleve, should carry her self with greater dis­simulation or cunning. Observe, that when Sancerre thought her alter'd as to him, she really was so; and began to love Estouteville, telling him he was the only Man could make her forget the death of her Husband, and for whose sake she quitted her Retirement, when Sancerre thought the while it proceeded from no other Cause but a Resolution to appear less afflicted than formerly: she made it mat­ter of favour to Estouteville that she conceal'd their correspondence, and seem'd oblig'd by her Father to marry him, which she pre­tended proceeded purely from the care of her reputation, when it was in truth a trick to put off Sancerre, without leaving him just cause of complaint: I must needs return, continues Mounsieur de Cleve, to see my un­fortunate [Page 87] friend, and I think you may do well to go with me to Paris: 'Tis high time for you to ap­pear abroad, and Receive those visits you cannot well dispence with.

Madam de Cleve's agreed to the proposal, and return'd on the Morrow: she found her self more at ease as to Mounsieur de Nemours than she formerly had been: what Madam de Chartres said on her death-Bed, and sorrow for the loss of her, had so suspended her thoughts of him, that she thought she should be no more troubled with them.

The same Evening she arriv'd, the Queen Dauphin gave her a visit, and having told her how much she shar'd in her afflictions, she said, to divert her from those sad thoughts, she would inform her of all that had past at Court in her absence, and accordingly gave her an account of several particulars. But that I have most mind to acquaint you with, adds she, is, that it is most certain Mounsieur de Nemours is passionately in Love, and that he is so far from making any the most intimate friend he has his Confident in the case, there is not one can guess who it is he is in love with: Though he be so deeply in Love it makes him neglect, if not quit the hopes of a Crown: with that she gave her an account of what concern'd the matter of England: What I have told you, says she, I had from Mounsieur [Page 88] de Anville, who told me this morning the King had yesterday, sent for Mounsieur de Nemours, upon Letters receiv'd from Lignerolles, who de­sires leave to return, as not able any longer to excuse to the Queen of England the delays of Mounsieur de Nemours, that the Queen begins to take it ill, and that though she had not made a positive promise, she had said enough to encourage the hazarding a Voyage. The King read this Let­ter to Mounsieur de Nemours, who, instead of speaking seriously, as he had done at first, fell a laughing and scoffing at Lignerolles hopes; saying, all Europe would condemn his impru­dence, should he undertake a Voyage for Eng­land, as pretending to Marriage with the Queen, without assurance of success.

Besides, adds he, I could not time my business worse, than to take my Iourney at this Iun­cture, when the King of Spain makes address to that Queen for Marriage. In matter of Gal­lantry, I confess his Catholick Majesty were no very considerable Rival, but in a Treaty of Marriage I cannot think your Majesty would advise me to stand in competition with him. ‘I would on this occasion, replys the King, for I know he is otherwise inclin'd; and were he not, Queen Mary took so little pleasure in the Yoke of Spain, I cannot be­lieve her Sister will undergo it, or suffer her self to be blinded with the Glittering of so many Crowns on one Head: If she yield not [Page 89] to the splendor of so many Crowns, says Mounsieur de Nemours, 'tis probable she will seek her happiness in Love: She hath for some years lov'd my Lord Courte­ney: Queen Mary too was in love with him, and would have marry'd him, and with publick consent of her Kingdom, but that she knew him more taken with the youth and beauty of her Sister Elizabeth, than am­bitious of reigning. Your Majesty knows her Jealousie of them made her clap them up Pri­soners, and afterwards banish my Lord Courte­ney and prevail'd with her at last to resolve to marry with the King of Spain. Elizabeth, who now possesses the Throne of her Sister, will, I believe, shortly call home my Lord Courteney, and will rather make choice of him for her Husband, whom she hath lov'd, and who is really amiable, and hath been a great sufferer for her, than of a Man she hath never seen: Were Courteney alive, says the King, I should be of your mind, but I have been certainly inform'd some days since that he is dead at Padua, whither he was banished: But I see, adds the King as he left Mounsieur de Nemours, your marriage must be made up just as the Dauphins was, and Embassadors must be sent to espouse the Queen of England.’

Mounsieur d' Anville and the Vidame, who were with the King when he spoke to Ne­mours, [Page 90] are clearly of opinion, nothing could divert him from so great a design, but the passi­on he is so deeply ingag'd in. The Vidame, who knows him best of any man living, hath told Madam de Martignes, he finds such a change in Mounsieur de Nemours, he scarce knows him. And, which he most wonders at, he cannot observe he hath any pri­vate Correspondence; nor can he discover any secret haunts he hath, or that he is mis­sing at any time, which makes the Vidame be­lieve he holds not correspondence with the person he loves: and this is the reason he thinks himself so much mistaken in Moun­sieur de Nemours, to see him in love with a Woman that does not love him again.

What a poysonous discourse was this for Madam de Cleves! How could she choose but know her self the Person whose Name was not known? How could she but be deep­ly affected with gratitude and tenderness at the News she received, by a way not at all liable to suspition, that this Prince she had so great an inclination for, conceal'd his passion from all the World, and slighted for love of her the hopes of a Crown: it is impossible to describe her sentiments on this occasion, and represent to the life the trouble it rais'd in her. Had the Queen-Dauphin ey'd her more closely, she would have easily disco­ver'd she was concern'd at the discourse: But [Page 91] as she had not the least suspition of the truth, she proceeded without taking notice of her; Mounsieur d' Anville, adds she, who, as I told you, acquainted me with all these par­ticulars, thinks I know the business better than he, and hath so great an opinion of my Charms, he believes me the sole person ca­pable to cause so extraordinary alterations in Mounsieur de Nemours.

These last Words rais'd another kind of trouble in Madam de Cleve's, very different from that she was formerly in. ‘I am of his mind, (answers she,) and 'tis very probable that no less than such a Princesse as you could make him despise the Queen of Eng­land. I would confess it, did I know it, re­plys the Queen-Dauphin, and I should cer­tainly know it, were it true: Passions of this Nature seldom escape the discovery of those who occasion them: They are the first that discern them. Mounsieur de Ne­mours never exprest for me other than slight and superficial complaisance: yet I observe so great difference between his present and former deportment towards me, I dare assure you I am not the cause of that indifference he shews for the Crown of England: But I am so taken with your company, I forget my self, and mind not the obligation I am under of seeing Madam: you know the peace is in a manner concluded, but 'tis possible it [Page 92] may be News to you, that the King of Spain refuses to Sign the Articles, but upon condition he shall marry that Princess, instead of the Prince Don Carlos his Son. The King was loath to consent to it, but hath done it at last, and is newly gone to carry Ma­dam the News: I believe it will much trouble her: what pleasure can she expect from Marrying a Man of the age and hu­mour of the King of Spain; especially she so jovial, so young, and so beautiful a Lady, who expected to Marry a young Prince, for whom unseen she had a strong inclination.’

I question whether the King will meet with the obedience he desires in her. He hath charg'd me to see her, because he knows she loves me, and that I have some power o­ver her: I shall from thence make another visit (of a very different Nature,) to congra­tulate the Kings Sister for the conclusion of her Marriage with the Prince of Savoy, who is expected in few days: Never had per­son of the age of this Princess so great cause to rejoyce at her Marriage. The Court will be more Numerous and Glorious than ever, and in spight of all your affliction you must come and help us to let the Strangers see we are furnish'd with no mean Beauties.

Having said this, the Queen-Dauphin left Madam de Cleve's, and on the morrow the [Page 93] Marriage of Madam was in every ones Mouth. The day after the King and Queens went to see Madam de Cleve: Mounsieur de Nemours who had waited her return with extreme im­patience, and wisht passionately he might speak with her in private, put off going to her, till the time all company broke up, and probably none would return thither that night. It fell out as he had wisht, and he came in as the last Visiters were taking their leaves.

The Princess was on her Bed, the weather hot, and the sight of Mounsieur de Nemours put her to a blush, that made her more amia­ble. He sat over against her, with a respect and fearfulness incident only to a genuine Passion, he was speechless for sometime: Madam de Cleve's was as mute as he, so that they were both silent a pretty while: At last Mounsieur de Nemours complemented her, condoleing her affliction. Madam de Cleve's very glad of discourse on that subject, spoke a good while of the loss she had had: and told him at last though time might abate the violence of her grief, she should still retain so deep an impression of it, it would alter her humour: 'Tis true, Madam, replyes M. de Nemours, great troubles and violent passions, occasion great alterations in our tempers: though I was never actually sensible of it, but since my re­turn [Page 94] from Flanders: ‘Many have observed in me a very great change, and the Queen-Dauphin her self spoke to me of it yesterday. She has indeed taken notice of it, says Ma­dam de Cleve, and I think I have heard her speak of it. I am not displeas'd Madam, answers Mounsieur de Nemours, that she hath perceiv'd it, but should be very glad she were not the only Person that did so. There are Persons in the World to whom we dare give no other evidences of the passion we have for them, but by things that concern them not; yet when we dare not make it appear we love them, we are willing at least to let them see we desire not the Love of any other; we are wil­ling to let them know we look with indiffe­rence on all other Beauties, though in the highest sphere, and that a Crown may be too dear, if to be purchas'd with no less a price than absence from her we adore.’ Ordinarily, Ladies judge of the passion had for them, by the care their Servants take to attend and to please them: but be they never so little a­miable those are easie tasks to perform. There is no great difficulty in giving our selves the pleasure to wait on them: But to avoid their company for fear of discovering to the World, and almost to themselves, the passion we have for them, that's a difficult point: the truest evidence of being really in Love, is [Page 95] when we become quite other men than we were, when we renounce our ambition and our pleasures, having all our Life pursu'd the one and the other.

Madam de Cleve's easily understood how far she was concern'd in this discourse, she thought it her duty to cut it off by an answer. Presently her mind alter'd, and she was of o­pinion it was better make as if she understood it not, and give him no cause to think she took it to her self; she thought she ought to speak, and thought she ought to be silent; this discourse did in a manner equally please and displease her. It convinc'd her of the truth of all the Queen-Dauphin made her think of him, she could not but look upon it as full of gallantry and respect, but withall somewhat bold and a little too plain andintelli­gible: The inclination she had for that Prince put her into a disorder it was not in her pow­er to master: the darkest expressions of a Per­son we love move more than the clearest de­clarations of a person we have no inclination for. She made him no answer. Mounsieur de Nemours took notice of her silence, and per­haps would have taken it for no ill Omen. But Mounsieur de Cleve's coming in, put an end to their discourse and his visit.

The Prince of Cleve came in to give his Lady a further account of Sancerre, but she [Page 96] was not very curious to know the Issue of that Adventure. Her thoughts were so ta­ken up with what she had newly heard from Mounsieur de Nemours, she could scarce hide the distraction she was under: Assoon as she was at liberty to Muse of what was past, she saw clearly how much she had been deceiv'd, when she thought her self indifferent as to Mounsieur de Nemours; his discourse had made as deep Impression on her as he could wish, and fully convinc'd her of the truth of his passion, his actions agreeing too well with his words to leave her the least shadow of doubt. She no longer flatter'd her self with hopes of not loving him; all her care was not to let him Know it: she knew this would prove a very hard task, having already had experience of the difficulty of it: she knew there was no way of doing it, but by avoiding the presence of that Prince: Her being in Mourning gave her occasion of living more retyr'd than ordinary; and she took that pretence not to frequent places where she might see him: very sad and disconsolate she was, but the death of her Mother appear'd to be the cause of it, and no suspition was had of any other.

Mounsieur de Nemours was almost distract­ed he could not have a sight of her, and know­ing there was no finding her in Company, [Page 97] and that she appeared not at any Divertise­ments at Court, he could not prevail with himself to be there, but pretended a great love for Hunting, and made Matches for that Sport upon the days the Ladies and the rest of the Court us'd to meet at the Queen's Lodgings. A slight indisposition serv'd him a long time for a pretence to keep home, and absent himself from those places he knew there were no hopes to see Madam de Cleve.

Monsieur de Cleve was sick much about the same time. During his illness Madam de Cleve stirred not out of his Chamber: But when he grew better, and admitted Visi­ters, particularly Monsieur de Nemours, who under pretence of being not yet fully reco­ver'd spent there the greatest part of the day; she found it was not in her power to stay there, yet at his first coming she could not quit the Room. 'Twas so long since she had seen him, she could not quickly resolve to see him no more. Monsieur de Nemours had the address by discourses that appear'd altogether general, (but she understood well enough by the relation they had to what he had pri­vately said to her in her Chamber,) to let her know he went a Hunting only for more li­berty to think of her; and that the reason he quitted Meetings at Court, was her not being there.

[Page 98]At last, but with very much ado, she put in execution the resolution she had taken to quit her Husband's Chamber when Monsieur de Nemours was there, who quickly per­ceiv'd she shunn'd him, and was very much troubled at it.

Monsieur de Cleve did not presently take notice of his Lady's conduct in this particu­lar, but became sensible at length she went out of his Chamber when company was there. He told her of it: she answer'd, she thought it not decent for her to be there eve­ry Evening in company with the youngest of the Court, that she intreated him to allow her to live more retir'd than she had done hi­therto: that the virtue and presence of her Mother, while she liv'd, had given her privi­ledge in some things she thought no longer fit to be made use of by a Woman of her age.

Monsieur de Cleve, who naturally had a great deal of kindness and complaisance for his Wife, exprest it not on this occasion, but told her he could by no means consent she should alter her Conduct. She was upon the point of telling him, it was the general re­port Monsieur de Nemours was in Love with her, but she had not the power to mention his Name; besides she thought it dis-ingenu­ous to disguise the truth, and make use of [Page 99] pretences to a Person who really had a very good opinion of her.

A few days after, the King was at the Queen's Lodgings about the time of going to take the Ring; the discourse was of Horo­scopes and Predictions: The Company was divided in opinion what credit to be given them. The Queen maintained, that after so many things foretold, and afterwards come accordingly to pass, it was not to be doubted but there was some certainty in that Science: others insisted, that of an infinite number of Predictions so very few prov'd true, that the truth of those few must be look'd upon as a meer effect of Chance.

‘I have heretofore, says the King, been ve­ry curious and inquisitive of the future; but they have told me things so false and impro­bable, that I am convinc'd they know no­thing certain. Not many years since there came hither a Man famous for Astrology; e­very one went to see him, and I among the rest, but did not let him know who I was: I took with me Monsieur de Guise and Descars, and made them go in first: Yet the A­strologer addrest himself to me, as if he had judg'd me Master to the other two, and per­haps he knew me; but if he did, he told me a thing no way suitable to me: His Predicti­on was, I should be kill'd in Duel. He told [Page 100] Monsieur de Guise he should die of a Wound given him behind; and Descars, that he should have his Brains knockt out with the kick of a Horse. Monsieur de Guise was offended at the Prediction, as if it im­ported he would run away: Descars was not well pleas'd to hear he should end his days by so unfortunate an Accident. In a word, we went out all three very ill satisfied with the Astrologer. What may happen to Monsieur de Guise and Descars I know not, but 'tis very improbable I shall be kill'd in Duel: The King of Spain and I have new­ly made peace; and had we not done so, I question much if we should have fought, or I have sent him a Challenge, as the King my Father did to Charles the Fifth.’

When the King had given this account of the misfortune foretold should happen to him, those who before defended Astrology deserted it, and agreed there was no credit at all to be given to it. ‘For my part, says Monsieur de Nemours aloud, I of all Men living have least cause to credit it;’ and turning himself towards Madam de Cleve, near whom he stood, ‘It has been told me, says he to her very softly, I should be hap­py in the kindness of a Person, for whom I should have the most violent, and the most respectful Passion imaginable. Judge you, [Page 101] Madam, if I have cause for any Faith in Predictions.’

The Queen-Dauphin having heard what Monsieur de Nemours had said aloud, thought what he said softly had been some false Pre­diction told him, and ask'd him what it was he had said to Madam de Cleve? Had his Wit been less ready, the Question might have surpris'd him, but he answer'd without any hesitation, it had been foretold him he should be exalted to a Fortune so high he durst not pretend to. ‘If this be it hath been fore­told you, says the Queen-Dauphin, smiling and thinking of the Affair with England, I would not advise you to run down Astrology, 'tis possible you may have reasons to give in defence of it.’ Madam de Cleve under­stood the Queen-Dauphin's meaning, but knew withal that the Fortune Monsieur de Nemours spoke of, was not that of being King of England.

It was now a long time since the death of her Mother, and Madam de Cleve must ap­pear abroad, and make her Court as she had us'd. She had a sight of Monsieur de Ne­mours at the Queen-Dauphins, she had a sight of him at Monsieur de Cleve's, where he frequently came with other Persons of Quality of his age, that no notice might be taken of it; but where-ever she saw him, it [Page 102] gave her trouble, and put her into some dis­order which he easily perceiv'd.

As careful as she was to shun his looks, and speak less to him than any other, she could not prevent some sudden escapes of her passi­on, that gave Monsieur de Nemours cause to believe she had more than indifferent incli­nation for him. A Man perhaps less discern­ing than he could not have perceiv'd it, but he had been already so often belov'd, it was easie for him to know when one lov'd him. He knew the Chevalier de Guise was his Ri­val, and the Chevalier de Guise as clearly saw Monsieur de Nemours was his. Not one of the whole Court but the Chevalier de Guise had made the discovery; his interest render'd him more clear-sighted than the rest: The knowledge they had of one anothers de­signs, made them cross one another in all things, and they could not forbear expres­sing their spight on every occasion, though it broke not out into open enmity. At the Runnings at the Ring, at Combats, at the Barrier, and all Divertisements the King call'd them to, they were always of different Parties, and their emulation was so great it could not be hid.

Madam de Cleve could not forbear think­ing frequently of the Affair with England, she believ'd Monsieur de Nemours would not [Page 103] resist the King's Advice, and the Instances of Lignerolles, it troubled her to see Lignerolles was not yet return'd, and she expected him every hour with the greatest impatience: Her inclinations sway'd her strongly to in­form her self exactly of the state of that Af­fair; but the same thought that rais'd her Curiosity, immediately suggested to her she was oblig'd to conceal it, and she enquir'd on­ly of the Beauty, the Wit and Humour of Queen Elizabeth. The King had one of her Pictures brought him. Madam de Cleve thought it far handsomer than she hop'd to have found it, and she could not forbear say­ing the Picture-drawer had flatter'd the Queen, in drawing her so beautiful. I do not think so, says the Queen-Dauphin, that Princess is reputed extraordinary handsome, and witty; and I am sure she hath been pro­pos'd to me for an Example all my Life: she must be very lovely, if like Anne Bullen her Mother: Never had a Lady so charming a Person, or so bewitching a sweetness and lov­liness in her humour: I have heard say she had a singular sprightliness in her Countenance, and not like the common English Beauties. ‘I think, says Madam Cleve, I have been told she was born in France.’ They that fancy so are mistaken, replys the Queen-Dauphin, and I will tell you the Story of her in a very few words

[Page 104] She was of a good Family in England, Henry the 8th had been in love with her Mo­ther and Sister; and it was suspected she might be his Daughter. She came into France with Henry the 7th's Sister, who was mar­ry'd to King Lewis the 12th. This Prin­cess being youthful and gallant, was loth to leave the Court of France at the death of her Husband: Anne Bullen, whose love for the French Court was equal to her Mistresses, re­solv'd not to quit it. The late King fell in love with her, and she was made Maid of Ho­nour to Queen Claudia: This Queen dying, the Lady Margaret, the King's Sister, Duchess of Alanson, and since Queen of Navarr, took her into her Service, where she receiv'd some Tincture of the reformed Religion. After­wards she return'd into England, and charm'd all that saw her; she sung well, and danc'd ex­cellently: They made her one of Queen Ka­therine's Maids of Honour, and Henry the 8th fell desperately in love with her.

Cardinal Wolsey, his Favourite and prime Minister, was ill satisfi'd with the Emperour, for not having favour'd his pretensions to the Papacy; and to be reveng'd of him, resolv'd to unite the King his Master to the French. To effect this, he suggested to Henry the 8th that his Marrriage with the Emperour's Aunt was Null; and propos'd for a Wife to him [Page 105] the Duchess of Alanson, whose Husband was lately dead. Anne Bullen had Ambiti­on enough to look upon the Divorce of King Henry from Katherine, as a means to make way for her into the Throne: She began to give the King some Impressions of the Lu­theran Perswasion, and engag'd the late King here, to favour at Rome the Divorce of Henry, in hopes of his marrying the Duchess of Alanson. Cardinal wolsey, to have op­portunity to treat of this Affair, prevailed with King Henry to send him into France on other business; but he was so far from giving him power to propose that Marriage, that he sent him express Order to Calais not to speak of it.

At his return from France, Cardinal Wol­sey was receiv'd with honours equal to those they would have done to the King: Never did Favourite carry on Pride and Vanity to so high a Pitch: He mannag'd an Enter­view between the two Kings at Bulloigne. Francis the 1st would have given the upper­hand to Henry the 8th, but he would not take it: they treated one another by turns with extraordinary Magnificence, and pre­sented each other with Habits equal to those they had caus'd to be made for themselves: I have heard it said, those the late King sent the King of England were of Crimson-Sattin, [Page 106] beset all over with Pearls and Diamonds, and a Robe of white Velvet embroider'd with Gold. After some days stay at Bulloigne, they went to Callis; Anne Bullen was Lodg'd in Henry the 8th's Court, with the Train of a Queen, and Francis the 1st made her the same Presents, and did her the same Honour, as if she had been actually so. At last, after a Passion of nine years continuance, Henry the 8th married her, without staying for the dissolution of his first Marriage, which he had a long time demanded at Rome. The Pope hastily thunder'd Excommunications against him, which provok'd the King so highly, that he declar'd himself Head of the Religion, and drew England after him into the Change ye now see.

Anne Bullen enjoy'd not her Grandeur long; for when she thought it surest by the death of Queen Katherine, one day as she was seeing, with the whole Court, a Match made by the Viscount Rochfort her Brother, to run at the Ring; the King was suddenly struck with so furious a jealousie, that he ha­stily left the Show, and went straight to Lon­don, having left order for arresting the Queen, the Viscount Rochfort, and several others whom he thought Lovers or Confi­dents of that Princess: though in appear­ance this jealousie of the Kings seem'd to owe [Page 107] its Birth to that moment, the truth is, it had been inspir'd into him some time before by the Viscountess Rochfort, who was not able to bear with patience the great intimacy be­tween the Queen and her Husband the Vsi­count, represented it to the King as crimi­nal and incestuous: So that he being already in love with Iane Seymour, thought no more of Anne Bullen, but to get rid of her. In less than three Weeks he caus'd the Queen and her Brother to be try'd, had them both beheaded, and marry'd Iane Seymour. He had afterwards several other Wives, whom he put away, or put to death; and among the rest the Lady Katherine Howard, whose Confident the Countess Rochfort was, and shar'd in her Fate, having her Head cut off with her Mistress's: Thus was she punish'd for falsly accusing Anne Bullen; and Henry the 8th dy'd, being grown prodigiously big and fat.

All the Ladies present thank'd the Queen-Dauphin for the account she had given them of the Court of England, and among the rest Madam de Cleve, who could not forbear asking her several Questions about Queen Elizabeth.

The Queen-Dauphin had Pictures in little drawn for her of all the Beauties of the Court, to be sent to the Queen her Mother. [Page 108] One day as that of Madam de Cleve's was finishing, the Queen-Dauphin spent the Af­ternoon with her. Monsieur de Nemours, who let slip no opportunity of seeing Madam de Cleve, (yet without letting it appear he sought it,) faild not being there: She was that day so beautiful, it would have made him in love with her, had he not been so; yet he durst not fix his Eye upon her as her Picture was a drawing, being fearful notice might be taken of the pleasure he took to view her now and then as she sat.

The Queen-Dauphin ask'd Monsieur de Cleve for a Picture in little he had of his Wife, to compare it with that which was newly drawn of her: Every one pass'd their Judgment of the one and the other, and Ma­dam de Cleve order'd the Picture-drawer to mend something in the Draught of the Head­geer of that which Monsieur de Cleve had brought in. The Picture-drawer, to satisfie her, took it out of the Case; and having mended it, laid it on the Table.

Monsieur de Nemours had long wish'd for a Picture of Madam de Cleve: when he saw that of her, which was Monsieur de Cleve's, he could not resist the longing desire he had to steal it from a Husband he believ'd she tenderly lov'd; and thought among so ma­ny Persons in the Room he might be as lit­tle [Page 109] suspected to have done it as another.

The Queen-Dauphin was set on the Bed, and whisper'd to Madam de Cleve, who stood before her: Madam de Cleve, through the Curtains which were but half drawn, spy'd Monsieur de Nemours with his Back to the Table at the Beds-feet; and perceiv'd him, without turning his Face, steal something slily that was on the Table: She quickly guess'd it might be her Picture, and was so troubled at it, that the Queen-Dauphin per­ceiv'd she heard her not, and ask'd her a­loud what it was she look'd at. At those words Monsieur de Nemours turn'd about, and saw Madam de Cleve's Eye still fix'd upon him, and thought it not impossible but she might have seen what he had done.

Madam de Cleve was not a little perplext: Reason would she should ask for her Picture, yet to ask for it publickly, was to tell all the World the kindness that Prince had for her; and to ask for it privately, was to engage him to declare to her the Passion he had for her: At last she resolved it the best course to let him carry it away, without taking notice of it, and was glad to grant him a favour with­out knowing whether she had done it. Mon­sieur de Nemours having observ'd her disor­der, and guessing at the Cause, came up and whisper'd to her; If you have seen what I [Page 110] have ventur'd to do, Madam, be so good to let me believe you are ignorant of it, which is all I dare beg of you: With that he withdrew, without expecting her Answer.

The Queen-Dauphin went out a walking, attended with all the Ladies, and Monsieur de Nemours went home to lock himself in his Closet, to enjoy the pleasure he took in having a Picture of Madam de Cleve's, which fill'd him with joy too great and too delicate to be express'd in publick: It gave him a taste of the highest sweetness Love can afford; he was in love with the most amiable Person of the Court, and saw she lov'd him though against her will, and easi­ly discover'd in all her Actions that trouble and disorder which Love produces in the in­nocence of Youth.

That Evening great search was made for the Picture: Having found the Case it was us'd to be kept in, they never suspected it had been stollen, but thought it might have been fallen out by chance. Monsieur de Cleve was much troubled at the loss of it, and when they had long search'd, and with­out finding it, he told his Wife, (but in such a manner as made it appear he did not think so,) That she had without doubt some pri­vate Lover, to whom she had given that Pi­cture, or who had stole it; and that any o­ther [Page 111] but one in love would not have been content with the Picture without the Case.

These words, though spoken in jeast, made a deep impression in Madam de Cleve; they troubled her extremely, and made her reflect with regret on the violence of her Inclina­tion for Monsieur de Nemours: she found she was no longer Mistress of her Words, or her Countenance: She thought Lignerolles was return'd, that there was no further fear of the Affair with England, nor any cause to su­spect the Queen-Dauphin; that, in a word, there was not any thing to help her against the violence of her Passion; and that there was no safety to be expected, but by absent­ing her self from Monsieur de Nemours. But leave being requested to be obtain'd for her absence from Court, where her Husband re­sided, and a pretence wanting, she was in ve­ry great extremity, and ready to fall into that she thought the worst of misfortunes, to let Monsieur de Nemours see the inclination she had for him. She thought of all Madam de Chartres on her Death-bed had said to her, and the Advice she had given her, to undergo any difficulty, rather than engage in an In­trigue of Gallantry. She remember'd what Monsieur de Cleve had said to her of an in­genuous sincerity, when he spoke of Ma­dam de Tournon; and she thought it her du­ty [Page 112] to confess to him the inclination she had for Monsieur de Nemours. These thoughts possess'd her a considerable time, at length she was astonish'd she could entertain any that appear'd so foolish, and relaps'd into her former perplexity; not knowing what course to take.

The Peace was sign'd, and the Lady Eliza­beth, after much resistance, resolv'd to obey the King her Father: The Duke of Alva had been appointed to Marry her in the Name of His Catholick Majesty, and was shortly ex­pected. They look'd every day for the Duke of Savoy, who had newly marry'd the King's Sister; the Nuptials being appointed to be kept at the same time the Lady Elizabeth should be marry'd to the Proxy of Spain. The King's greatest care was to Grace these Mar­riages with Sports and Divertisements, wherein he might make appear the Address and Magnificence of his Court. Great Pro­posals were made for Balletts and Come­dies, but the King thought those Divertise­ments too private, and resolved to have such as should be more Splendid and Noble.

That which he made choice of was, a So­lemn Tournament, to which Strangers might be invited, and the People be Spectators. The Princes and young Lords approv'd high­ly the King's design, especially the Duke of [Page 113] Ferrara, Monsieur de Guise, and Monsieur de Nemours, who were the most excellent at these sorts of Exercises; and the King made choice of them to be with him the four Cham­pions of the Tournament.

Proclamation was made throughout the Kingdom, that the 15th of Iune, at Paris, His most Christian Majesty, and the Princes, Alphonso d'Est, Duke of Ferrara, Francis of Lorrain, Duke of Guise, and Iames of Sa­voy Duke of Nemours, would hold an o­pen Tourney against all comers: The first Combat on Horseback in the Lists, doubly Arm'd, to break four Lances, and one for the Ladies: The second Combat with Swords; one to one, or two to two, as the Masters of the Camp should order: The third Combat on Foot; three Pushes of Pike, and six Hits with the Sword: The Champi­ons to furnish Lances, Pikes, and Swords, at the Assailants choice: Whoever mannag'd not his Horse in the Carreer, to be put out of the Lists: That there should be four Ma­sters of Camp, to give Orders; the Assail­ants who should break most Lances, and per­form best, to carry the Prize; the value whereof to be at the discretion of the Jud­ges: That all the Assailants, as well French as Strangers, should be oblig'd openly, to lay Hand on one, or more, (at their choice) of [Page 114] the Shields that should hang at a Pillar at the end of the Lists, where an Officer of Arms should be ready to receive them, and Inroll them according to their Quality, and the Shields they had handled: That the As­sailants should be bound to cause their Shields, and Arms, to be brought by a Gentleman, and hung up at the Pillar three days before the beginning of the Tourney, on pain of not being received without the special leave of the Defendants.

A great List was made, reaching from the Chate aude Tournells, cross S. Anthony's Street to the King's Stables. There were on both sides Scaffolds, and Theatres, with cover'd Galleries very pleasing to the sight, and that would hold an infinite of People. The Princes and great Lords, made it their busi­ness to provide what might be necessary, to appear there in Splendor, and to have in their Cyphers and Devises, something of Gallan­try relating to the Ladies they lov'd.

A few days before the Duke d' Alva ar­riv'd, the King made a Match at Tennis with Monsieur de Nemours, the Chevalier de Guise, and the Vidame de Chartres. The Queen, attended with the Ladies of the Court, and (among the rest) Madam de Cleve went to see them play: The Game be­ing ended, as they went out of the Tennis-Court, [Page 115] Chastelart came up to the Queen-Dauphin, and told her he had by chance hit upon a Letter of Gallantry fallen out of Mon­sieur de Nemours's Pocket. This Queen, who always had a Curiosity for any thing that concern'd Monsieur de Nemours, bid Chastelart give it her: He did so, and she fol­low'd the Queen her Mother-in-Law, who was going with the King to see them work at the Lists. They had not been long there, but the King sent for some Horses he had lately caus'd to be taken in, and though they were not throughly mannag'd, the King would Mount one of them, and order'd his Attendants to Mount the rest: The fiery'st and highest-mettl'd of them fell to the King's share, and Monsieur de Nemours's: Their Horses would have presently fallen fowl on one another. Monsieur de Nemours for fear of hurting the King, recoil'd briskly, and ran back his Horse against a Post, with that violence it made him stagger: The Compa­ny ran in presently to Monsieur de Nemours, thinking him grievously hurt. Madam de Cleve was more sensible of it than any other, and thought him worse hurt: She was so much concern'd, she never thought of hi­ding the apprehension and trouble it put her in; she went to him with the Queens, but with a Countenance so chang'd, one less [Page 116] concern'd than the Chevalier de Guise might have easily perceiv'd it. He quickly observ'd it, and minded more the condition she was in then, than that of Monsieur de Nemours'S. The violence of the Justle had so stunn'd the Prince, he stood a while leaning his Head on those that supported him: When he held it up, he presently spy'd Madam de Cleve, and discover'd in her looks the pity she had of him; and look'd on her in such a manner, as made her easily comprehend how sensible he was of it. Afterwards he thank'd the Queens for the goodness express'd towards him, and excus'd the condition he had been in before them. This done, the King com­manded him to go to rest.

Madam de Cleve being recover'd of the fright she had been in, reflected quickly on the Evidence she had given of it. The Che­valier de Guise presently put her out of the hopes she had no body had taken notice of it, giving her his Hand to lead her out of the Lists; I have more cause to complain, says he, Madam, than Monsieur de Nemours: Pardon me if, for a moment, I forget the pro­found respect I have always had for you, to let you see how I grieve at Heart for what my Eyes have but now discover'd: 'Tis the first time I have taken the boldness to speak to you, and it shall be the last: Death, or an everlast­ing [Page 117] absence, will remove me from a place I can no longer live in; having now lost the sorry comfort I had, in believing all those who durst look on you were as unfortunate as I.

Madam de Cleve answer'd, as if she had not understood him: She would have been offended another time at any Declaration he should have made of his affection for her, but that moment her thoughts were wholly drown'd in a deep affliction for the Discove­ry he had made of her kindness for Monsieur de Nemours. The Chevalier de Guise was so throughly convinc'd of it, and so heartily troubled at it, he took a resolution never to think more of obtaining her love. But to quit an Enterprize that appear'd so difficult and glorious, he must pitch on another great enough to fill the room the former had taken up in his thoughts. He had formerly entertain'd some thoughts of the taking of Rhodes; and when Death took him out of the World in the Flower of his Youth, when he had gain'd the Reputation of one of the greatest Princes of his time; the only grief he express'd for leaving the World, was, he had not been a­ble to put in execution so noble a Resolution, the success whereof he thought infallible, through the care he had taken for it.

When Madam de Cleve was gone out of the Lists, she went to the Queen's Lodgings, [Page 118] full of the thoughts of what had newly happen'd. Monsieur de Nemours came in presently after, in a very Magnificent Habit, and like one no way sensible of the late Ac­cident, but in appearance more gay and jo­vial than ordinary: His joy for what he thought he had lately discover'd, gave his Countenance an Air, made him appear hand­somer, (if possible,) than formerly. The Company was surpriz'd at his entrance, e­very one ask'd him how he did, except Ma­dam de Cleve, who staid near the Chimney, as if she had not seen him: The King com­ing out of his Closet saw him among the rest, and call'd him to have some discourse of his Adventure. Monsieur de Nemours passing by Madam de Cleve, said to her very low, I have this day receiv'd some marks of your pity, Madam; but they were not such as I am most worthy of. Madam de Cleve doubt­ed before, that Monsieur de Nemours had ob­serv'd the concern she was in for him; and his words sufficiently confirm'd the truth of her thoughts. It troubled her extremely she had been so little Mistress of her Sentiments, as not to have been able to conceal them from the Chevalier de Guise. It added to her grief Monsieur de Nemours had discover'd them, yet this grief was not so pure, but it had a mixture of pleasure.

[Page 119] The Queen-Dauphin, impatiently desirous to know the Contents of the Letter Chaste­lart had given her, went to Madam de Cleve, Go read this Letter, says she, it is address'd to Monsieur de Nemours; and in all appea­rance was sent him by the Mistress for whom he hath quitted all others: If you cannot read it at present, keep it, and bring it me at Night as I go to Bed, and tell me if you know the Hand. With that, the Queen-Dauphin left Madam de Cleve, but so surpriz'd and astonish'd, she could not a while stir out of her place: It put her into that impatience and trouble, she was not able to stay at the Queen's Lodgings; but went home, though long before her usual hour of retirement. Her Hand trembled as she held the Letter, her thoughts were perplext, and extremely disorder'd; and the trouble she was in no less new than insupportable: As soon as she got into her Closet, she open'd the Letter, and found it to this effect.

Madam de Cleve read the Letter again and again, yet knew not what she read: she perceiv'd only, Monsieur de Nemours was not so in love with her as she had thought, [Page 123] but lov'd others, who were no less deceiv'd in him than she. What a Discovery was this for a Person of her humour, who had a violent Passion, who had newly given Evi­dence of it to a Man she judg'd unworthy of it; and to another she us'd ill for love of him! Never was grief so cutting as hers; she imputed the sharpness of it to that days adventures, and that if Monsieur de Ne­mours had not had occasion to believe she lov'd him, she would not have car'd for his loving another: Yet she did but deceive her self, the Disease she was sick of, and thought so intollerable, was Jealousie, with all its hor­rible Attendants: This Letter discover'd to her a piece of Gallantry Monsieur de Nemours had long been engag'd in. She saw the La­dy who had written the Letter, was a Person of Wit and Merit; she thought her one that deserv'd his love, and of more courage than her self; and envy'd the power she had to conceal her Passion from Monsieur de Ne­mours: The close of the Letter gave her cause to believe that Person thought her self lov'd; she was presently of opinion the di­scretion that Prince had made shew of to her, and she had been so taken with, was perhaps but the effect of his Passion for the other, whom he fear'd to displease. In a word, all her thoughts were so many torments, to [Page 124] heighten her affliction, and occasion despair. What Reflections did she make on her self, and the Counsels her Mother had given her! How did she repent her not having persisted in her Resolution of quitting the World, though without the leave of Monsieur de Cleve; or her not having pursu'd the inten­tion she had of confessing to him the inclina­tion she had for Monsieur de Nemours? She thought she had better have discover'd it to a Husband, whose goodness she was assur'd of, and who would have been concern'd to con­ceal it; than to have let a Man know it who was altogether unworthy of it, who deceiv'd her, and perhaps made a Sacrifice of her; and car'd no more for her love, than to have matter thence to feed his Pride and Vanity. In a word, she thought no greater mischief could befall her, nor she have done worse, than to have given Monsieur de Nemours oc­casion to believe she lov'd him; and to have since found he was in love with another. All the comfort she had, was, to believe, that having discover'd his falseness, it would per­fectly cure her of the inclination she had for him.

She never thought of the order the Queen-Dauphin had given her, to be with her at her going to Bed; but went to Bed her self, pretending she was ill: so that when Mon­sieur [Page 125] de Cleve came from the King, they told him she was asleep; but she was far enough from being so well at rest, afflicting her self all Night, and reading over the Letter she had in her Hand.

Madam de Cleve was not the sole Per­son this Letter disturb'd. The Vidame de Chartres, who in truth had lost it, was in no small trouble for it: He had pass'd that E­vening at the Duke of Guise's, who had treated at Supper, his Brother-in-Law, the Duke of Ferrara, and all the young People of the Court. As Fortune would have it, they discours'd at Supper of Letters; the Vidame told them, he had about him the finest that ever was writ: They press'd him to shew it, but he deny'd. Monsieur de Ne­mours insisted he had no such Letter, and that he talk'd vainly. The Vidame answer'd, he put him very hard to't, yet he would not shew him the Letter, but would read part of it, which would give them cause to judge few Men receiv'd the like. Having said this, he would have taken out the Letter, but could not find it: He search'd for it, but to no pur­pose; the Company jear'd him as if he ne­ver had any such; but he was so vex'd at the loss, that they forbore speaking further of it. He retir'd before the rest of the Company, and with great impatience went home, to [Page 126] search for the Letter he miss'd. As he was in search of it, a Page of the Queens came to tell him that the Viscountess d' Usez had thought it necessary to give him speedy in­telligence, that at the Queens Lodgings they discours'd of a Letter of Gallantry dropp'd out of his Pocket as he was at Tennis: That they had recited part of what was written in it; that the Queen seem'd very desirous to see it; that she had sent to one of her Gen­tlemen for it, but he answer'd he had given it Chastelart.

The Page added other Particulars which heighten'd the Vidame's trouble. He went presently to a Gentleman who was very in­timate with Chastelart, and (though at a very unseasonable hour) made him get up out of Bed, to go ask Chastelart for the Let­ter, without letting him know who enquir'd for it, or had lost it. Chastelart fully possest the Letter belong'd to Monsieur de Nemours, and that he was in love with the Queen-Dauphin, made no doubt but he had sent in search of it, and with a malicious joy an­swer'd he had deliver'd it to the Queen-Dauphin. The Gentleman brought the Vi­dame this Answer, which added to his trou­ble: After long debate what course to take, he saw Monsieur de Nemours was the only Person could help him out of the trouble he was in.

[Page 127] He went to his House, and enter'd his Chamber at peep of Day: The Prince was fast asleep, the kindness of Madam de Cleve the day before having given him such plea­sing thoughts, that he rested very sweetly that Night. He was surpriz'd to find him­self awaken'd by the Vidame of Chartres, and ask'd him if it was to be reveng'd of him for what he had said at Supper, that he was come thus early to break his rest? The Vidame's looks gave him quickly to under­stand his business was very serious; ‘I am come, says he, to trust you with the most important Affair of my Life: I know very well you are not oblig'd to me for the con­fidence, because I do it in a time I stand in need of your help; but I am satisfi'd with­al I should have lost your esteem, had I ac­quainted you with what I am going to tell you, without being forc'd to it by absolute necessity. I have dropp'd the Letter I spoke of yesterday, it concerns me extremely, no one should know it was address'd to me. Several who were at the Tennis-Court ye­sterday, where I dropp'd it, have seen it. You were there, and I beg the favour you would own you have lost it. Sure, says Monsieur de Nemours, smiling, you think I have not such a thing as a Mistress in the World, that you can make me a Proposal of [Page 128] this Nature, as if there were not a Person living would fall out with me upon notice of my receiving Letters of that sort.’ ‘I pray, Sir, says the Vidame, be serious: If you have a Mistress, (as I question not but you have, though I know her not,) you will easily justifie your self, and I will put you in an infallible way for it: If you should not justifie your self, the worst you can fear is a short falling out: My case is much worse; by this unlucky Adventure, I shall dishonour a Person who hath passionately lov'd me, and is one of the most Enestima­ble Women of the World; besides, I shall procure my self her implacable hatred to the certain ruine of my Fortune, and perhaps something more.’ ‘I understand you not, answers Monsieur de Nemours; but I be­gin methinks to discover the reports we have had of a great Princess being con­cern'd for you, are not without ground. They are not, replys the Vidame, but I wish they had been so; I should not have been then in the trouble you see me in. I will tell you all, to convince you what a condition I am in.’

‘Ever since I came to Court the Queen hath been pleas'd to use me with particular favour, and hath given me cause to believe she hath kindness for me: Yet so, that I [Page 129] never entertain'd any thought of her but what was full of respect. I was deeply in love with Madam de Themines; you who have seen her, may easily judge it was not strange any one should love her, if she lov'd him as she did me. Near two years since, the Court being at Fountainbleau, I was two or three times in discourse with the Queen when there was very little company: I thought my sense pleas'd her, and that she approv'd what-ever I said. One day she fell into a Discourse of Confidence; I told her there was not a Person in the World I could entirely confide in, that I found many had repented of having done it, and that I knew several things I had never spoken of. The Queen told me, she esteem'd me the bet­ter for't, that she had not found a Person in France could keep a Secret; and that nothing troubl'd her more, because it de­priv'd her of the pleasure of having a Con­fident; than which nothing more necessa­ry, especially for those of her Quality: She fell several times after into the like dis­course, and made me acquainted with very particular Passages: At last I thought she had a mind to learn some Secret of mine, and to trust me with hers: I was so sensi­ble of this distinguishing favour, it engag'd me strictly to her, and I made my Court to [Page 130] her with more assiduity than ordinary. One Evening the King, and the Ladies, went on Horseback into the Forrest to take the Air; the Queen went not, being a little indispos'd, I staid to wait on her, she walk'd down to the Pond side, and to be at more liberty, would not be handed by the Gentlemen-Ushers: Having taken a turn or two, she came to me and bid me follow her: I would speak with you, says she, and by what I shall say to you, you will find I am your Friend. She stopp'd there, and look'd earnestly on me; You are in love, says she, and because you have made no one your Confident, you think your love is not known; but it is, and to Persons who are concern'd at it: You are observ'd, the place where you see your Mistress is discover'd, and there is a design to surprize you: I know not your Mistress, nor do I ask you who she is; but would arm you against the Plots that are laid for you. Observe, Sir, what a Snare this was from a Queen, and how hard to escape: She had a mind to know if I was in love, and not asking whom I lov'd, but letting me see her pure intentions of doing me a kind­ness, she put it out of my thoughts to suspect her of Curiosity, much less of Design.’

‘But against all probability, I came to a discovery of the truth, I was in love with Madam de Themines; but though she lov'd [Page 131] me, I was not so happy to have particular places to see her, or to fear a surprize. I easily saw 'twas not she the Queen spoke of: I knew well enough I had some concern of Gallantry with a Woman less handsome, and less severe than Madam de Themines, and it was not impossible the place I us'd to meet her might have been discover'd; but that was a business I so little car'd for, I could easily prevent any danger, by for­bearing to see her: Thus I resolv'd not to confess any thing to the Queen, but assur'd her I had long laid aside the desire of gain­ing the love of Women, where I might hope for success, having found them al­most all unworthy the Engagement of an honest Man; and that I was now altoge­ther for something above them.’ You do not answer me truly, replys the Queen, I am assur'd of the contrary. The manner of my speaking to you, should oblige you to hide no­thing from me. I am willing, adds she, you should be one of my Friends, but not willing (having taken you into that Number) to be ig­norant how you are engag'd. See whether the Place of being my Friend be too dear at the Price of making me your Confident: I give you two days to think on't, but after that time I expect your answer; and remember, if I find you deceive me, I shall never pardon you.

[Page 132] ‘Having said this, the Queen left me, without expecting my answer: You may be­lieve she had said enough to employ my thoughts: I did not think the two days she had allowed me too long a time to come to Resolution. I saw she was willing to know if I was in love, and that she did not much desire I should be so. I consider'd the Con­sequences of the Engagement I was entring into. My Vanity was tickl'd with the fan­cy of having a particular Intrigue with a Queen, and a Queen whose Person is ex­tremely amiable: On the other side, I lov'd Madam de Themines, and could not find in my Heart to break with her quite; though I committed a Petty-Treason against her, by my Engagement with the other I formerly told you of. I apprehended the danger I should expose my self to, if I deceiv'd the Queen, and how hard it would be to do it: Yet I could not resolve to refuse what For­tune offer'd me, but was willing to run the hazard of any thing my ill Conduct might bring upon me: I broke with that Woman where I fear'd a discovery, and was in hopes to conceal the intelligence I held with Madam de Themines.’

At the two days end I enter'd the Cham­ber where the Queen was with all the La­dies about her; she said aloud, and with a [Page 133] Gravity that surpriz'd me, Have you thought of the Business I gave you in Charge, and found out the truth of it? Yes, Madam, an­swer'd I, and 'tis as I told your Majesty. Come in the Evening when I am a writing, re­plys she, and you shall have further order. Having made a profound Reverence, I withdrew without further answer, and fail'd not to attend at the hour assign'd: I found her in the Gallery, with her Secretary and one of her Women: As soon as she saw me, she came to me and took me to the other end of the Gallery: Well, says she, upon se­cond thoughts, have you nothing to say to me? And my usage of you, doth it not deserve you should deal sincerely with me? My sincerity, Madam, reply'd I, is the cause I have no­thing to say; and I swear to your Majesty, with all the respect due to your Majesty, I have no Engagement with any Woman of the Court. I will believe it, says she, because I wish it so; and I wish it, because I desire to have you entirely mine, and that it would be im­possible I should be satisfied with your Friendship if you are in love: there is no trusting those that are so, there's no relying on their secresie: the Partiality they have for their Mistresses, who still take up the first room in their thoughts, suits not with the manner I would have you en­gag'd to me: Remember then that upon your giv­ing [Page 134] me your word you are not otherwise en­gag'd, I Chuse you for my Confident: Remem­ber I would have you entirely mine, and that you must have no Friend of either Sex, but such as I please to allow you; and that you are to quit all cares, but that of pleasing me. You shall not lose your Fortune by it, I shall take more care of it than you can your self; and whatever I do for you I shall think it well be­stow'd, if you answer my expectation of you. I have made choice of you to make you acquainted with all my Griefs, and to help me out of them. You may judge they are no mean ones: I en­dure in appearance, with very little pain, the King's Engagement with the Duchess of Valen­tinois, but 'tis insupportable. She Governs the King, she deludes him, she cheats him; she slights me, she hates me, she hath debauch'd my Servants, they are all at her beck: The Queen, my Daughter-in-Law, is so proud of her Beauty, and the Credit of her Uncles, she pays me no respect. The Constable Montmorency is Master of the King, and his Kingdom: He hates me, and hath given proofs of his hatred I shall never forget. The Marshal St. Andre is a fiery young Favourite, who uses me no bet­ter than the rest; you would pity me, should I give you a particular account of my misfortunes: Till now I never durst trust any Man with them; I trust you, give me no cause to repent [Page 135] it, and let me have comfort of you. ‘As she said these words, her Eyes redden'd: I was so sensible of the goodness she had express'd for me, I was going to throw my self at her Feet. From that day she plac'd entire confidence in me, and did nothing with­out first advising with me; and I have ever since maintain'd a Correspondence which holds to this day.’

‘BUsie as I was, and full of my new En­gagement to the Queen, I held fair and firm with Madam de Themines, by a na­tural inclination it was not in my power to vanquish: Yet methoughts she cool'd in her love of me; and where, had I been wise, I should have made use of the change observ'd in her for my Cure; it doubled my love, and I manag'd it so ill, that the Queen had some knowledge of it. Jealou­sie is natural to those of her Nation, and per­haps that Princess had a greater affection for [Page 137] me than she her self could imagine. At last the report of my being in love disturb'd and troubled her to that height, that I thought my self an hundred times ruin'd in my Cre­dit with her: But diligence, submission, and false Oaths brought me again into favour: Yet it would not have been in my power to have deceiv'd her long, had not Madam de Themines, sore against my will, disengag'd me from her. She made it appear her love for me was at an end, and I was so con­vinc'd of it, that I was forc'd to torment her no further, but let her alone. A short time after she writ me the Letter I have lost: by it I perceiv'd she knew the Commerce I had with that Woman I told you of, and that her Change proceeded from thence. Thence­forward the Queen was well satisfied with me, being no longer divided as formerly: But the Sentiments I have for her being not of a nature to render me incapable of en­gaging elsewhere, and Love being not a thing depends on our Choice, I fell in love with Madam de Martigues, for whom I had no small inclination, when she was Villemon­tar's Maid of Honour to the Queen-Dauphin. I had reason to believe she did not hate me. The discretion I made shew of, (she not knowing all the Reasons of it,) pleas'd her very well: The Queen hath no [Page 138] suspicion of me on that side, but has on another account which proves no less trou­blesome: Madam de Martigues being every day at the Queen-Dauphin's, I frequent her Lodgings oftner than ordinary: the Queen fancy's I am in love with that Princess. The quality of Madam La-Dauphine being equal to the Queens, and her beauty and youth above hers, have made the Queen jealous even to fury, and fill'd her with a hatred she can no longer conceal against her Daughter-in-Law: The Cardinal of Lorrain, who (I have long thought) aspires the Queen's favour, and sees me possess a place he would willingly be in, under pretence of reconciling the Queens, is become con­cern'd in the differences between them. I make no doubt but he hath discover'd the true Cause of the Queen's anger, and I believe he does me all kinds of ill Offices, without letting her see he doth it on design: This is the state of my present condition; judge you what effect the Letter I have lost may produce, which I unfortunately put in­to my Pocket to restore it to Madam de Themines. If the Queen see this Letter, she will know I have deceiv'd her; and that almost the same time I deceiv'd her by Ma­dam de Themines, I deceiv'd Madam de Themines by another: Judge you what she [Page 139] will think of me then, and whether she will ever trust my words more. If she see not the Letter, what shall I say to her? She knows it hath been given the Queen-Dauphin, she will believe Chastelart knew her Hand, and that the Letter was hers: she will imagine her self perhaps the Person, she that wrote the Letter declares her self jealous of. In a word, she hath occasion to think any thing, and there is nothing so bad but I have cause to fear from her thoughts: besides; I am heartily concern'd for Madam de Martigues, the Queen-Dauphin will certainly shew her this Letter, which she will believe lately writ; thus shall I be embroyl'd with the Person, whom of all the World I love most, no less than with the Person, whom of all the World I have most cause to fear. See now whether I have not reason to conjure you to own the Letter as yours, and to beg the favour of you to get it out of the Queen-Dauphin's Hands.’

‘I am very well satisfi'd, answers Monsieur de Nemours, you are sufficiently perplex'd; and it cannot be deny'd but you very well deserve it. I have been charg'd with un­faithfulness in my Amours, and being en­gag'd at the same time in several Gallan­tries; but you have so far out-done me, I [Page 140] durst not have imagin'd what you have un­dertaken: Could you pretend to hold fair with Madam de Themines, and keep her firm to you, being engag'd to the Queen? Could you hope to engage with the Queen, and deceive her? She is an Italian, and a Queen, and consequently full of suspicions of Jealousie, and of Pride. When your good Fortune, rather than your good Con­duct, had set you at liberty from the En­gagements you were formerly concern'd in, you enter'd into new; and fancy'd that in the midst of the Court you could be in love with Madam de Martigues and the Queen not know it: You could not have been too careful of taking from her the shame of hav­ing made the first motion: she has for you a violent Passion; you have more discretion than to tell it me, and I, than to ask you of it: Certain it is she loves you, and intrusts you; and the truth is, you are to be blam'd. Is it your part, Sir, to chide me, says the Vidame, interupting him; and are not you concern'd to be indulgent to faults within your Experience?’ ‘I confess I am to blame, but think, I conjure you, how to get me out of this Abyss: I think you must go see the Queen-Dauphin as soon as she awakes, and ask her for the Letter as if you had lost it.’ ‘I have told you already, replys Mon­sieur [Page 141] de Nemours, the thing you propose is somewhat extraordinary, and there are dif­ficulties in it, I am (upon my own ac­count) very loth to engage in. But if the Letter hath been seen to drop out of your Pocket, how shall I perswade them it dropp'd out of mine? I thought I had told you, says the Vidame, the Queen-Dauphin hath been inform'd you had dropp'd it. How, replys Monsieur de Nemours, hastily, (apprehending the ill consequence the mistake might be of to him with Ma­dam de Cleve,) Have they told the Queen-Dauphin I dropp'd the Letter?’ ‘Yes, says the Vidame, they have told her so: And the reason of the mistake is, there were se­veral of the Queen's Gentlemen in a Cham­ber belonging to the Tennis-Court, where our Clothes were put up, and your Ser­vants and mine went together to fetch them: Then it was the Letter was dropp'd, those Gentlemen gather'd it up and read it aloud; some thought it was yours, others thought it mine: Chastelart, who took it, told me just now, as I ask'd him for it, that he had given it the Queen-Dauphin as a Letter of yours: And those who spoke of it to the Queen, have unfortunately said it was mine: You may easily do what I desire, and get me out of this trouble.’

[Page 142] Monsieur de Nemours had ever been a great lover of the Vidame of Chartres, and his near relation to Madam de Cleve made him love him the more; yet he could not pre­sently resolve to run the hazard of owning that Letter: He fell into a deep study, and the Vidame guessing the cause of his medita­tion, ‘I see well enough, says he, you are afraid of a Broil with you Mistress, and would make me believe it is the Queen-Dauphin; but you have so little jealousie of Monsieur d' Anville, I cannot think it is she. However, 'tis not reasonable you should sacrifice your Repose to mine, and I will put you in a way to convince your Mistress the Letter was directed to me, and not you: See here a Billet from Madam d' Amboise, who is a Friend of Madam de Themines, and her Confident in the Amours between me and her: By this Billet Madam d' Am­boise desires me to send her her Friends Let­ter I have lost; the Billet is address'd to me by Name, and the Contents of it are an infallible Proof the Letter she desires is the same they have found. I am content you should take the Billet and shew it your Mistress for your justification. I conjure you not to lose a moments time, but go pre­sently to the Queen-Dauphin's Lodgings.’

[Page 143] Monsieur de Nemours promis'd to do so, and took the Billet; yet he design'd not to see the Queen-Dauphin, but thought he had business concern'd him more: He made no doubt but she had tole Madam de Cleve of the Letter, and he could not endure a Person he lov'd so desperately, should have occasion to believe him engag'd with another.

He went to her as soon as he thought her awake, and sent her word he would not have desir'd the honour to see her at so unseasonable an hour, but that he had extraordinary busi­ness. Madam de Cleve was a-Bed, troubled with the sad thoughts she had had all that Night: she was extremely surpriz'd to hear Monsieur de Nemours ask'd for her; that Nights trouble had made her so froward, she presently answer'd she was not well, and could not speak with him.

Monsieur de Nemours was not sorry for the Repulse; he thought it no ill Omen she ex­press'd some coldness at a time she had occa­sion to be jealous: He went to the Apart­ment of Monsieur de Cleve, and told him he came from his Ladys, and was much trou­bled he could not speak with her, upon busi­ness of consequence that concern'd the Vi­dame of Chartres. He gave Monsieur de Cleve a short account of the Affair, and he took him along presently to his Lady's Cham­ber. [Page 144] Had she not been in the dark, she could hardly have conceal'd her trouble and asto­nishment, to see Monsieur de Nemours led into her Chamber, by her Husband. Mon­sieur de Cleve told her the business was about a Letter, wherein they wanted her help in behalf of the Vidame, that she was to consi­der with Monsieur de Nemours what was to be done, as for him he must go to the King who had newly sent for him.

Monsieur de Nemours had his hearts de­sire, to be alone with Madam de Cleve; ‘I am come to ask you, Madam, says he, if the Queen-Dauphin hath not spoken to you of a Letter Chastelart gave her yesterday.’ She said something to me of it, answers Ma­dam de Cleve; but I do not see how my Un­cle can be concern'd in it, being not so much as nam'd in it. ‘'Tis true, Madam, replys Mon­sieur de Nemours, he is not nam'd in it; but it was address'd to him, and it highly concerns him you should get it out of the Queen-Dauphin's Hands.’ I cannot con­ceive, says Madam de Cleve, how it should concern him to have this Letter seen; and why it should be ask'd for as his. ‘If you please to give me the hearing, Madam, replys Mon­sieur de Nemours, I will presently make you acquainted with the truth; and inform you of matters of so great importance to [Page 145] the Vidame, that I would not have trusted the Prince of Cleve with them, had I not needed his assistance to have the honour to see you.’ I suppose what you can say to me will be to small purpose, says Madam de Cleve, very unconcernedly, you were better find out the Queen-Dauphin, and without going so far a­bout, tell her the interest you have in that Let­ter, for she hath been inform'd it belongs to you.

Monsieur de Nemours was never better pleas'd, than to observe some peevishness and frowardness in Madam de Cleve's discourse; it delighted him so, he was not very hasty to justi­fie himself: ‘I know not, says he, Madam, what the Queen-Dauphin hath been in­form'd, but I am not at all concern'd in the Letter, it was address'd to the Vidame: I believe it, replys Madam de Cleve, but the Queen-Dauphin hath been told otherwise; and it will not appear very probable to her, a Let­ter of the Vidame's should drop out of your Pocket; for that reason at least you have no cause that I know of to conceal the truth from the Queen-Dauphin: I advise you to confess it to her. I have nothing to confess to her, says he, the Letter was not address'd to me; and if there be any one I desire should be­lieve so, 'tis not the Queen-Dauphin. But, Madam, since this business concerns the Vi­dame [Page 146] as much as his Fortune is worth, be pleas'd to be made acquainted with Passages in themselves worthy your Curiosity.’ Ma­dam de Cleve by her silence shew'd her rea­diness to hear him, and he with all possible brevity gave her an account of what the Vi­dame had told him; though the Passages were astonishing, and such as deserv'd any ones attention, Madam de Cleve heard them with that coldness and indifferency as if she had not believ'd them, or at least not been any ways concern'd for them: she continu'd in that temper till Monsieur de Nemours told her of the Billet from Madam d' Amboise to the Vidame of Chartres, which prov'd all he said to be true. Madam de Cleve knew that Lady was Madam de Themines Friend, and thought it probable, by what Monsieur de Nemours said, the Letter was not address'd to him. That very thought suddenly, and in spight of her, put her out of that coldness and indifferency she had till then been in. The Prince having read to her the Billet to justifie himself, presented it to her, telling her she might know the Character. She could not forbear taking it, and examining the Superscription, if address'd to the Vidame, and reading it all over, that she might the bet­ter judge whether the Letter that was ask'd for were the same she had. Monsieur de Ne­mours [Page 147] added what he thought proper to con­vince her, and easily convinc'd her (of a truth she was very desirous to find) that he was not concern'd in the Letter.

She began then to discourse with him of the trouble and danger the Vidame was in, to blame his ill Conduct, and find means to help him. She was astonish'd at the Queens pro­ceeding, and confess'd to Monsieur de Ne­mours she had the Letter. In a word, as soon as she believ'd him innocent, she spoke with freedom and quietness, of the things she be­fore scarce vouchsafed to hear; they agreed the Letter should not be restor'd to the Queen-Dauphin, for fear she should shew it Madam de Martigues, who knew the Hand of Madam de Themines, and was so con­cern'd for the Vidame, she would easily guess it was address'd to him. Besides, they thought it not proper to acquaint the Queen-Dauphin with all that concern'd her Mother-in-Law, the Queen. Madam de Cleve was not a little glad of the Pretence of her Uncle's concern in the case, to be Monsieur de Ne­mours's Confident of the Secrets he imparted to her.

The Prince would not have confin'd his discourse to the Vidame's concern, but from the liberty he had to entertain her, would have taken a boldness he never yet durst, [Page 148] had not a Message been brought her, the Queen-Dauphin had sent for her: Monsieur de Nemours was forc'd to retire, and went to tell the Vidame, that after he had left him he thought it more for the purpose to address himself to Madam de Cleve his Niece, than go directly to the Queen-Dauphin. He want­ed not Reasons to make him approve of what he had done, and put him in hopes of suc­cess.

Madam de Cleve the mean time dress'd her self in all haste to go to the Queen: she scarce entred the Chamber, but the Queen call'd her up to her, and whisper'd her she had look'd for her two long hours, and was never so perplex'd about disguising a truth as she had been that Morning. The Queen, says she, hath heard speak of the Letter I gave you yesterday, and believes it is the Vidame de Chartres let it fall. You know she may be some­what concern'd on that account: she hath been in search of the Letter, and caus'd Chastelart to be ask'd for it; he told her he had given it me: they ask'd me for it under pretence it was a pretty Letter the Queen had a great mind to see. I durst not tell her you had it, lest she should imagine I had given it you on your Uncle the Vidame's account; and that there might be a Correspondence betwen me and him. I was satisfi'd it was a trouble to her he saw me so [Page 149] often, so that I said the Letter was in the Clothes I had on yesterday, and that those who had them in keeping were gone abroad. Give me the Letter quickly, adds she, that I may send it her, and read it before I send it, to see if I know the Hand.

Madam de Cleve found her self in a grea­ter perplexity than she could have expected. I know not what you shall do, Madam, says she; for Monsieur de Cleve, to whom I gave it to read, hath restor'd it to Monsieur de Ne­mours, who came early this Morning to desire you to let him have it: Monsieur de Cleve had so little wit to tell him he had it, and the weak­ness to yield to Monsieur de Nemours's re­quest of having it again. You put me into the greatest trouble I can be in, answers the Queen-Dauphin, and have done very ill to give Mon­sieur de Nemours the Letter you had received of me, and should not have parted with with­out my leave: what would you have me say to the Queen, and what can she imagine? She will believe, and not without reason, the Let­ter concerns me, and that there is some great matter between the Vidame and me: she will never be perswaded the Letter belong'd to Mon­sieur de Nemours. I am very sorry, replys Madam de Cleve, for the trouble I have caus'd you, and believe it great as it is; but 'tis the fault of Monsieur de Cleve, and not mine. [Page 150] 'Tis your fault, says the Queen-Dauphin, in giving him the Letter: No woman but your self makes her Husband acquainted with all she knows. I believe I did ill, Madam, answers Madam de Cleve; but let us think of repair­ing the Fault, not of examining it. Do not you remember, pretty near, what was in the Letter, says the Queen-Dauphin? Yes Ma­dam, replys Madam de Cleve, I do, having read it several times over. If so, says the Queen-Dauphin, we must presently have it written in a strange Hand, and send it the Queen. She will not shew it those who have seen it; and if she do, I will maintain it the same Chastelart gave me, and he dares not say otherwise.

Madam de Cleve approved of the Expedi­ent, and the more, because it would give her occasion of sending for Monsieur de Nemours, to have the Letter again, to be Copied word for word, and pretty near the Hand it was written in, whereby she thought the Queen would infallibly be deceiv'd. As soon as she came home, she told her Husband the trouble the Queen-Dauphin was in, and pray'd him to send for Monsieur de Nemours: He was sent for, and came presently. Madam de Cleve told him all she had inform'd her Hus­band of, and ask'd him for the Letter. Mon­sieur de Nemours answer'd he had restor'd it [Page 151] to the Vidame, who was so glad of it, that he sent it immediately to Madam de The­mines's Friend: Madam de Cleve was now in fresh trouble; having consulted awhile, they resolved to frame a Letter by memory, they lock'd themselves up to do it; order was given at the Gate no person should come in; Monsieur de Nemours Attendants were all sent home; such an appearance of Confi­dence was no small Charm to Monsieur de Nemours, and even to Madam de Cleve: Her Husband's being by, and her Uncle being so deeply concern'd in the matter, satisfi'd all her scruples: the sight of Monsieur de Ne­mours pleas'd her so well, it gave her a joy so pure and sincere, she never had the like: This made her so free, and so jovial, Mon­sieur de Nemours had never seen her so be­fore, and was more passionately in love with her than ever: He never had a more plea­sant time, which made him more lively and chearful; and when Madam de Cleve would begin to think of the Letter and write, he in­stead of helping her, in good earnest did but interrupt her, and speak pleasantly to her: Madam de Cleve was gay as he, so that they were long lock'd up together, and two Mes­sengers were come from the Queen-Dauphin to bid Madam de Cleve hasten, before they had finish'd the Letter half.

[Page 152] Monsieur de Nemours was so willing to prolong time that pleas'd him so well, he for­got his Friends Interest. Madam de Cleve too was so far from being tyr'd with her En­tertainment, she forgot the interest of her Uncle. At last with much ado the Letter was scarce ready by four a Clock, and so ill done, and the Character so unlike the Ori­ginal, that the Queen must have taken small care to find out the truth of it, if they could have impos'd on her so: But as careful as they were, and earnest to perswade her, the Letter was addrest to Monsieur de Nemours; she was not deceiv'd, but fully convinc'd it belong'd to the Vidame: Besides, she believ'd the Queen-Dauphin concern'd in it, and that there was a Correspondence between them: This heightned her hatred against that Prin­cess to that degree, that she never pardon'd her, or ceas'd persecuting her, till she had driven her out of France.

As for the Vidame it utterly ruin'd him; and whether the Cardinal of Lorrain had al­ready hit the way to please her, or that the adventure of this Letter, having made it ap­pear she had been deceiv'd in the Vidame, help'd her to find out other tricks he had plaid her, certain it is, he never after could recover her favour; their Correspondence was broke, and at length she lost him in the [Page 153] Conspiracy of Amboise, wherein he had a hand.

When the Letter was sent to the Queen-Dauphin, Monsieur de Cleve, and Monsieur de Nemours went their way. Madam de Cleve being alone, and no longer supported with the joy infus'd by the presence of one she lov'd, was like one newly awak'd out of a dream; she was astonish'd to consider the prodigious difference between her condition the night before, and that she was now in: she remembred how sharp and how cold she had appear'd to Monsieur de Nemours, while she thought the Letter from Madam de The­mines was addrest to him; and what a calm, what a pleasure succeeded immediately, as soon as he had perswaded her the Letter con­cern'd him not: When she reflected how she reproach'd her self as Criminal, for having the day before given him only some marks of her pity, and that by her sharpness this morning she gave him cause to believe her jealous (the infallible proof of passion) she thought she was not her self: when she con­sider'd further, Monsieur de Nemours easily saw she knew him in love with her; and that notwithstanding that knowledge, she had been so far from using him the worse for it, even in her Husbands company, that on the contrary, she had never look'd on him so [Page 154] favourably, which was the reason Monsieur de Cleve had sent for him to pass the after­noon together in private: she found she had something in her held intelligence with Monsieur de Nemours, that she deceiv'd a Hus­band who of all men least deserv'd it, and she was asham'd to appear to him that lov'd her, so little worthy his Esteem; that which troubled her most, was the thought of her condition the night past, and what piercing griefs she was under while she thought Mon­sieur de Nemours was in love with another; and that she was deceiv'd in him when she fancy'd her self the object of his passion.

Never till then had she been acquainted with the mortal inquietudes of jealousie and distrust; she had apply'd all her cares to save her self from being in love with Monsieur de Nemours, and had not begun to fear his be­ing in love with another: though the suspi­tions the Letter gave her were vanish'd, yet they left her sensible she might be deceiv'd, and gave her impressions of jealousie and di­strust, she had till then been altogether a stran­ger to: she was amaz'd she had not yet con­sider'd how improbable it was a Man so in­constant towards Women as Monsieur de Nemours had always been, could be capable of a sincere and durable ingagement; she thought it next to impossible she could ever [Page 155] be satisfi'd of the truth of his passion, But if I should, says she, what would I do? would I endure it? would I answer it? would I ingage in a piece of Gallantry? would I be false to Monsieur de Cleve? would I be false to my self? would I, in a word, expose my self to the deadly sorrows, to the mortifying penitence Love is attended with? I am vanquish'd, I am conquer'd by an inclination which sways me, which drags me along in spight of my heart; my resolutions are vain; I thought yesterday all I think now, and act to day quite contrary to yesterdays resolutions; I must withdraw my self from the presence of Monsieur de Ne­mours, I must go into the Country, how extra­vagant soever my journey appear; and if Mon­sieur de Cleve be obstinate to the contrary, or to know the reason of it, will it be any harm to him or my self to let him know it. She con­tinued in this resolution, and staid all that E­vening at home, without going to enquire of the Queen-Dauphin, what was become of the false Letter of the Vidame.

When Monsieur de Cleve return'd home, she told him she had a desire to go into the Country, that she was not very well, and it would do her good to take the air: Monsieur de Cleve, in whose eyes she appear'd so beau­tiful, that he could not imagine her indisposi­tion considerable, laught at the proposal, and [Page 156] answer'd, she forgot the Marriage of the Prin­cess, and the Turnament were night at hand; and that she had not too much time for pre­paration, to appear there with magnificence equal to that of other Ladies: Her Husbands reasons alter'd not her mind, she intreated he would be pleas'd, while he went with the King to Compiegne, she might go to Colon­niers, a fair House then a building, within a days journey of Paris. Monsieur de Cleve gave his consent; she went thither with de­sign not to return quickly; the King took his Progress for Compiegne, intending a short stay there.

Monsieur de Nemours was much griev'd he had not seen Madam de Cleve since the After­noon he had past so pleasantly in her compa­ny, to the strengthening of his hopes; he was under that impatience to see her again, that he could not rest; so that when the King return'd to Paris, he resolv'd to go to his Sisters the Duchess of Mercoeur's in Champagne, hard by Colonniers. He ask'd the Vidame to go with him; he easily con­sented: Monsieur de Nemours made the pro­posal, in hopes to see Madam de Cleve, by going with the Vidame to her house.

Madam de Mercoeur received them with a great deal of joy, and made it her business to give them all the pleasures and divertise­ments [Page 157] of the Country: One day as they were a Hunting a Buck, Monsieur de Ne­mours lost himself in the Forrest; and enqui­ring the way, he was told, he was near Co­lonniers. At that word, without further con­sideration, or knowing on what design, he gallop'd away full speed towards Colonniers. As he rode, he came to made. VVays, and Walks which he thought led him toward the Castle: At the end of those Walks he found a Pavillion, with a large Bower on either side, one whereof open'd towards a Garden of Flowers, and was separated from the For­rest only by Pales, the other fac'd a great VValk in the Park. He entered the Pavillion, and would have spent time in observing the beauty of it, but that he saw in the VValk Monsieur and Madam de Cleve attended with a numerous Train of their Domesticks: He expected not to have found Monsieur de Cleve there, whom he had left with the King; this made him think of hiding him­self. He entered the Bower opening to the Flower-Garden, as having the convenience of a door opening to the Forrest, at which, upon occasion, he might get out: But ha­ving observ'd Madam de Cleve and her Hus­band set under the Pavillion, and their Do­mesticks staying behind in the Park, and ha­ving no way to come to him, without passing [Page 158] through the place Monsieur and Madam de Cleve were in, he could not forbear taking the pleasure of a sight of the Princess, nor resist the Curiosity of hearkening to her dis­course with a Husband who gave him more jealousie than any of his Rivals.

He heard Mounsieur de Cleve say to his La­day, ‘But why will you not return to Paris? what is it can keep you here in the Coun­try? You have of late an inclination for solitude that amazes me, and troubles me extremely, because it occasions our separa­tion: besides I see you are more melanchol­ly than ordinary, and I am afraid you have some cause of grief.’ ‘I am not under any trouble, says she as one very much perplex'd; but there is such a bustle at Court, and such a multitude of people always at your House, it is impossible but it should tire both Body and Soul, and I cannot but desire a place of retirement and repose.’ ‘Repose, answers he, is not proper for a Person of your age; you are both at home and at Court in a con­dition that cannot occasion your weariness, I rather fear you have a desire of living a­part from me.’ ‘You would do me extreme wrong, should you think so, says she, more and more perplex'd; but let me beg of you leave me here.’ ‘Could you stay here, and without company, I should be very glad of [Page 159] it; if you could be content not to have about you that infinite of Visitants that almost ne­ver leave you to your self. Ah! Madam, crys Monsieur de Cleve, your Countenance and your Expressions tell me plainly, you have reasons to desire to be alone, which I do not know, but I conjure you to tell me them: He press'd her long, but could not prevail with her to tell him, having long deny'd him in such a manner as still increas'd his Curiosity: she continued silent a while, with her Eyes to the Ground; and then suddenly looking upon him,’ ‘Force me not, says she, to confess to you a thing I have not the power to declare, though I have often design'd it: Think only 'tis not prudent a Woman of my age, and Mistress of her Conduct should remain expos'd in the middle of the Court. What a Prospect have you given me, Ma­dam, crys Monsieur de Cleve, I do not tell you what it is, for fear of giving you of­fence?’ She answer'd not a word, and her silence confirming the thoughts of her Hus­band. ‘You tell me nothing, says he and that tells me clearly I am not mistaken. Ah! Sir, says she, falling down on her Knees, I am going to make a Confession no Woman ever made to her Husband, yet the inno­cence of my Intentions and Conduct give me power to do it: 'Tis true I have reasons [Page 160] to absent from Court, and to avoid the dan­gers Persons of my age are in there: I have never been guilty of giving any Mark of weak­ness, and I cannot fear I ever shall, if you allow me the liberty to retire from Court, or if I had still Madam de Chartres to assist me in my Conduct: As dangerous as is the course I take, I take it with joy to preserve my self worthy of you: I ask your pardon a thou­sand times if I have any Sentiments displease you, assure your self my Actions never shall. Think that to do as I do requires more kind­ness and esteem for a Husband than ever Wife had. Dispose of me, direct me, have pity on me; and if you can, still love me.’

Monsieur de Cleve all the while she spoke lean'd his Head on his Hand, almost besides himself, and never thought of making her rise up from the posture she was in. When she had done speaking, and he fix'd his Eyes on her and saw her at his Feet, her Face no less drown'd in tears, than admirable for beau­ty, he was ready to dye for grief; and ta­king her up in his Arms, ‘Have you pity on me, Madam, says he, for I need and deserve it; and pardon me if in the first Assault of a grief so violent as mine is, I answer not as I ought such a proceeding as yours: I think you more worthy esteem and admiration, [Page 161] than any Woman that ever was; and my self the most unfortunate of Men. I have been passionately in love with you from the first moment I saw you: Neither your se­verity, nor the enjoyment of you, was ever able to abate it in the least; it continues still at the height: It was never in my power to make you in love with me, and I see now you fear you have inclination for ano­ther: Who, Madam, is the happy Man that causes your fear? How long hath he had the good fortune to please you; what was it he did to please you; what way did he find to gain your affection? It was some comfort to me for my misfortune of failing it, to think it was impossible for any one to obtain. Another the while hath done what I have not been able, and I have at once the jealousie both of a Husband and a Lover. But 'tis impossible to retain that of a Hus­band, after a proceeding like yours; it is too noble and generous not to give me an entire assurance of your Virtue, it comforts me as a Lover: The confidence and since­rity you have express'd for me, are of infi­nite value: You esteem me sufficiently, to believe I will not abuse your Confession: You may, Madam, I will not abuse it, nor love you the less for it. You render me unfortunate, by the clearest Evidence of Fi­delity [Page 162] that ever Woman gave a Husband: But perfect what you begun, Madam, and let me know who it is you would avoid. I beseech you do not ask me, answers she, I am resolv'd not to tell you; and I think it prudent not to give you his Name.’ ‘Fear not, Madam, replys Monsieur de Cleve, I am too well vers'd in the World, not to know Men may be in love with a Woman though she have a Husband: We are to hate those that are so, but not to complain of it; and once more I conjure you to tell me who it is.’ ‘'Tis to no purpose to press me, Sir, says she, I have the power to be silent where I think it my duty not to speak: impute not to any weakness the Confession I have made to you. And I had need of more courage to declare to you that truth, than to have conceal'd it.’

Monsieur de Nemours heard every word of this discourse, and what Madam de Cleve had said, rais'd no less his jealousie than her Husband's: He was so desperately in love with her, he thought all the World was so too: True it is, he had many Rivals, yet he fancy'd them more; and he was wild to know who it was Madam de Cleve meant. He had often thought she had some kind­ness for him, but the grounds of his judg­ment appear'd on this occasion so slight and [Page 163] inconsiderable, that he could not imagine she had so violent a passion for him, as to need recourse to so extraordinary a Remedy: He was so transported he scarce knew what he saw, but he could not pardon Monsieur de Cleve for not having press'd her home to tell him the Name of the Person she conceal'd from him.

Yet Monsieur de Cleve us'd his utmost en­deavours to know it, but finding it vain to urge her further, desisted from troubling her; who presently said; ‘Methinks you ought to rest satisfi'd with my sincerity, pray ask me no more, and give me not cause to re­pent what I have done: Content your self with the assurance I give you once more, my Sentiments have never appear'd by any Action of mine, and that no address hath been made to me that could give me of­fence.’ ‘Ah, Madam, replys Monsieur de Cleve, on the sudden, I cannot believe it: I remember the trouble you were in the day your Picture was lost; you have given, Madam, you have given away that Picture that was so dear to me, and so justly mine: You have not been able to conceal your af­fection, you are in love, it is known, your Virtue hath hitherto sav'd you from the rest.’ ‘Is it possible, crys the Princess, you can imagine any diguisement in a Confessi­on [Page 164] as mine is, which I was no way oblig'd to. Take my word, Sir, I buy at a dear rate the confidence I desire of you; I con­jure you believe I never gave away my Picture: True it is I saw it taken, but would not take notice I saw it, for fear of exposing my self on that occasion to be told what none ever yet durst say to me.’ ‘How know you then you are lov'd, says he, what evidences has he given you of his pas­sion?’ ‘Spare me the pains and the trouble, answers she, of telling you particulars I am asham'd to have observ'd, being such as have too much convinc'd me of my weak­ness.’ ‘You have reason, Madam, replys he; I am unjust, and press you too far; re­fuse me when ever I ask you such Questi­ons, yet be not offended with me for ask­ing them.’

Just then came several of the Servants, (who had staid in the Walks,) to acquaint Monsieur de Cleve that a Gentleman was ar­riv'd from the King, with Orders for him to be at Paris that Evening: Monsieur de Cleve was forc'd to go, and was not able to say anything to his Wife, but that he desir'd her to come to Paris on the Morrow; and con­jur'd her to believe that though he was trou­bled, he had for her a tenderness and esteem, with which she had reason to be abundantly satisfi'd.

[Page 165]When the Prince was gone, and Madam de Cleve, left alone, consider'd what she had done; the thought of it so frighted her, she could scarce believe the truth of it: She saw she her self had put her self out of the affecti­on and esteem of her Husband, and plung'd her self into a Pit she should never get out of. She ask'd her self why she had done so ha­zardous a thing, and perceiv'd she had en­gag'd in it, having scarce form'd the design. The singularity of her Confession, which she conceiv'd without President, gave her a full Prospect of her danger. On the other side, when she consider'd this Remedy (as violent as it was) was the sole effectual one she could make use of against Monsieur de Nemours; she thought she had no cause to repent, or to believe she had ventur'd too far. She pass'd that Night under a very great incertitude, trouble, and fear: at last her Spirits were calmed; she found pleasure in having given that Evidence of Fidelity to a Husband who deserv'd it so well, who had so great an e­steem and kindness for her, and had given fresh proof of both, in the manner of his re­ceiving the strange Confession she had made him.

Monsieur de Nemours was in the mean time got from the place he had heard the discourse in, into the middle of the Forrest: [Page 166] What Madam de Cleve had said of her Pi­cture had reviv'd him, by letting him know he was the Person she had inclination for. The thought of this swell'd him with joy, but the joy was short-liv'd: for when he re­flected that what mov'd her to declare she had inclination for him, convinc'd him the same moment he should never receive any Evidence of it, he thought it impossible to engage a Person who made recourse to so extraordinary a Remedy; yet he could not but be very much pleas'd to have reduc'd her to such an extremity: He glory'd in himself that he gain'd the affection of a La­dy so different from the rest of her Sex. In a word, he thought himself a hundred times happy, and unhappy all together. He was benighted in the Forrest, and was much puz­led to find the way to his Sisters, the Du­chess of Mercoeur: He arriv'd there about break of day, and was very much to seek what account to give of his absence: He came off the best he could, and return'd the same day with the Vidame to Paris.

This Prince was so full of his passion, and surpriz'd with what he had heard, that he fell into the common imprudence of speak­ing in general terms his particular Senti­ments, and relating his own Adventures un­der borrow'd Names. In his return he fell [Page 167] into discourse of Love, and the extreme plea­sure of being in Love with a person deser­ving it. He spoke of the extravagant effects of that passion; and not able to conceal the astonishment he was in at the action of Ma­dam de Cleve, he made the Vidame acquaint­ed with it, without naming the person, or owning himself concern'd; but he spoke with that heat and admiration, the Vidame easily suspected him one of the parties in the case, and press'd him to confess it: He told him he was well assur'd he had a violent pas­sion for a Lady, though he knew not who, and that he had no reason to distrust him, who had trusted him with his life: But Monsieur de Nemours was too deeply in love to confess it, and had ever conceal'd his passion from the Vidame, though he lov'd him best of any man at Court: He answer'd, that a Friend of his had told him this ad­venture; and not only made him promise not to speak of it, but conjur'd him to se­cresie. The Vidame assur'd him it should go no further, but Monsieur de Nemours repent­ed he had told him so much.

The mean time Monsieur de Cleve was gone to the King, but with a heart mortally afflicted: Never had Husband so violent a passion for his Wife, nor so great an Esteem, which was not diminish'd in the least by [Page 168] what she had told him, but chang'd into a sort different from the esteem he had former­ly had of her: His thoughts were most busi­ed about guessing who it was had the secret to please her: He thought of Monsieur de Nemours, as the most amiable of the Court, and the Chevalier de Guise, and the Marshal S. Andre, as persons who had apply'd them­selves to please her, and still continued their endeavours; so that he was perswaded it must be one of the three.

He arriv'd at the Louvre, and the King took him into his Closet, to tell him he had made choice of him to conduct Madam into Spain, and believed no man could perform it better, and that no Lady could do France more ho­nour than Madam de Cleve. Monsieur de Cleve receiv'd the honour of the Choice as he ought, and look'd on it as an occasion for his Wives absence from Court, without giving suspition of any change of her Con­duct; but the trouble he was in, needed a speedier remedy than that Voyage (to be de­ferr'd for some Months) could afford him: He presently writ Madam de Cleve the news of what the King had said to him, and ad­ded, he expected she would not fail of re­turning to Paris. She came thither, accord­ing to his order; and when they saw one a­nother, they were both extraordinary sad.

[Page 169]Monsieur de Cleve spoke to her like a man of the greatest honour in the world, and best deserving the confidence she had repos'd in him: ‘It is not your Conduct, says he, gives me trouble, you have more strength and more vertue than you imagine: nor am I troubled with fears of what may hap­pen hereafter; that which troubles me is, that I see you have that affection for ano­ther, it has not been in my power to raise in you: I know not what to answer you, says she, I am mortally asham'd when I speak to you; let me conjure you to spare this cruel discourse, order my Conduct, and let me never see any body: This is all I desire of you; but take it not ill from me, if I speak no more of a thing which makes me appear so little worthy of you, and which I think so unbecoming me: You have rea­son Madam, replies he, I abuse your good­ness and your confidence in me, yet pity the condition you have brought me to, and think, though you have told me the substance of the matter, you conceal from me a Name that fills me with a Curiosity, which, if not satisfi'd, will bring me to my Grave: however, I do not desire you to tell it me, but I cannot forbear letting you know, I believe the Man I am to envy is the Marshal S. Andre, the Duke de Nemours, or [Page 170] the Chevalier de Guise.’ ‘I will not answer you, says she, blushing; nor give you occasi­on to diminish, or raise your suspicions: But if you should try by watching and ob­serving me, to discover the truth, you will put me into a trouble all the World will take notice of.’ ‘A Gods-name, continues she, give me leave to pretend some Indispositi­on, and not to see any one.’ ‘No, Ma­dam, says he, it will quickly be discover'd to be a feign'd business: Besides, I would not rely on any thing but your self, my Heart gives me that is the best course I can take; and my Reason tells me, con­sidering the humour you are of, I cannot put a greater Restraint upon you, than by leaving you to your liberty.’

Monsieur de Cleve was not mistaken: The confidence he made appear he had in his Wife, fortifi'd her the more against Monsieur de Nemours, and made her take more severe Resolutions than any Restraint would have brought her to: She went to the Louvre and the Queen-Dauphin's Lodgings as she us'd to do, but avoided the presence and sight of Monsieur de Nemours with so much care, that she robb'd him of almost all the joy he had in thinking she lov'd him, all her Actions perswading him the contrary: He could not tell but what he had heard might have been [Page 171] in a dream, so little likelihood was there of the truth of it: The only thing seem'd to as­sure him he was not mistaken, was the ex­treme sadness of Madam de Cleve, appearing in spight of all her care to conceal it: And peradventure, the sweetest looks, and most obliging expressions, would not have so much heightned the love of Monsieur de Ne­mours, as the severity of her Conduct effe­ctually did.

One Evening, as Monsieur and Madam de Cleve were at the Queens Lodgings, it was said there was a report the King would name another great Lord at Court to wait on Ma­dam into Spain. Monsieur de Cleve had his eye fixt on his Wife, when it was further said, the Chevalier de Guise, or the Marshal de S. Andre was to be the man: He observ'd she was not at all mov'd at either of those names, nor at the discourse of their going a­long with her; this made him believe he had no reason to fear the presence of either of them: To clear his suspitions, he went into the Queens Closet where the King then was. Having staid there a while, he return'd to his Wife, and whisper'd her, he had but new­ly been told Monsieur de Nemours was the person design'd to go along with them into Spain. Madam de Cleve was so mov'd at the name of Monsieur de Nemours, and the [Page 172] thought of being expos'd to see him every day, during a very long journey, in the pre­sence of her Husband, that she could not conceal the trouble she was in; and to cloak it with other reasons, No choice, says she, could have been made more disagreeable for you, he will share all your Honours, and methinks you are oblig'd to endeavour to procure another choice: Madam, answers he, 'tis not on any account of State you are unwilling Monsieur de Nemours should go with me, the trouble it gives you proceeds from another cause; I learn from that trouble in you, what I should have discover'd in another Woman, by the joy she would have exprest at the news: but fear not, Madam, what I told you is not true, it was an invention of mine, to be assur'd of a thing I strongly believ'd. Having said so, he went out, being loth by his presence to increase the trouble he saw his Wife in.

Monsieur de Nemours came in at that in­stant, and presently observ'd the condition she was in: He went up to her, and told her softly, He had that respect for her, he durst not ask her, what it was made her more thoughtful and melancholly than ordinary. The voice of Monsieur de Nemours brought her to her self again, and looking on him, without having heard what he had just then said, (so full was she of her own thoughts, [Page 173] and of fear her Husband might see him with her) For Gods sake, says she, let me alone: Alas, Madam, answers he, I do it too much; what is it you can complain of? I dare not speak to you, I dare not so much as look upon you, I tremble when I come near you; where­in have I deserv'd you should speak so to me? why do you make it appear thus, I am in some measure the cause of the trouble I see you in? Madam de Cleve was very sorry she had gi­ven him occasion to declare himself more clearly than he had done before: she left him without saying a word more, and went home more troubled than ever: her Husband per­ceiv'd it, and that she was afraid he should speak to her of what was past; and follow­ing her into her Closet, Do not shun me, Ma­dam, says he, I will not say any thing shall displease you, I beg your pardon for the sur­prize I put you to awhile, I am sufficiently pu­nish'd by what I have learnt by it; Monsieur de Nemours was the man I most fear'd of a­ny: I see the danger you are in; have power over your self for your own sake, and if you can for mine; I ask it not as your Husband, but as a man whose happiness wholly depends on you, and who hath for you a passion more violent and more tender than he whom your inclination prefers before me. Monsieur de Cleve melt­ed at these words, he could scarce finish [Page 174] them: His Lady was so mov'd, she burst in­to tears, and imbrac'd him with a tender­ness and sorrow, that put him into a condi­tion very different from hers: They continu­ed silent a while, and parted, without having been able to say a word one to the other.

All things were ready for the Marriage of Madam, the Duke of Alva was arriv'd to Espouse her: He was receiv'd with all the Ceremony and Magnificence usual on such occasions: The King sent to meet him by the way, the Prince of Conde, the Cardinals of Lorrain and Guise, the Dukes of Lorrain, Ferrara, Aumale, Bouillon, Guise and Ne­mours: They had a great number of Gentle­men, and many Pages in Livery: The King in Person, attended with two hundred Gen­tlemen his Servants, with the Constable, at the head of them, waited the Duke of Al­va's coming at the first Gate of the Louvre. When the Duke of Alva was come up to the King, he would have imbrac'd his knees; the King would not suffer it, but made him walk by his side to the Queens Lodgings, and to Madam's, for whom the Duke of Alva brought a magnificent Present from his Ma­ster. He went thence to the Lodgings of Madam Margaret the Kings Sister, to Com­plement her on the part of Monsieur de Sa­voy, and assure her he would arrive in few [Page 175] days. There were great Assemblies at the Louvre, to let the Duke of Alva, and the Prince of Orange, (who accompanied him,) see the Beauties of the Court.

Madam de Cleve durst not absent her self, for fear of displeasing her Husband, who commanded her to appear there, though ve­ry loth to do it. Yet she was the rather in­duc'd to it by the absence of Monsieur de Ne­mours: He was gone to meet Monsieur de Savoy, and after his arrival was oblig'd to be in a manner always with him, to assist him in what concern'd the Ceremonies of his Marriage. This prevented her meeting him as often as she us'd, which gave her some satisfaction.

The Vidame of Chartres had not forgot the discourse he had had with Monsieur de Nemours. It ran in his mind that the Ad­venture the Prince had told him, was his own; and he watch'd him so narrowly, 'tis very probable he would have found out the truth of it, had not the arrival of the Duke of Alva, and Monsieur de Savoy fill'd the Court with so much business, that it took away the opportunities of a discovery of that Nature: The desire he had to know the truth of it, or rather the natural disposition we have to make those we love acquainted with all we know, made him tell Madam de Martigues [Page 176] the extraordinary Action of that Person, who had confess'd to her Husband the passion she had for another: He assur'd her Monsieur de Nemours was the Man had inspir'd so violent a passion, and conjur'd her to assist him in observing that Prince. Madam de Marti­gues was glad to hear what the Vidame told her, and the Curiosity she had always ob­serv'd in the Queen-Dauphin for what con­cern'd Monsieur de Nemours, made her the more desirous to know the bottom of the Adventure.

A short time before the day fix'd for the Ceremony of the Marriage, the Queen-Dau­phin invited the King her Father-in-Law, and the Duchess of Valentinois to Supper. Madam de Cleve had been so busie a dressing her self, it was late e're she came to the Louvre: By the way she met a Gentleman, who was coming in search of her from the Queen-Dauphin. As she enter'd her Chamber, that Princess said aloud to her, from on her Bed, where she then was; I have look'd for you with the greatest impatience. I believe it, Madam, answers she, yet perhaps I am not oblig'd to you for it, the cause being doubtless something else, and not your desire to see me. You are right, answers the Queen-Dauphin, yet you are oblig'd to me; for I will tell you an Adventure you will be very glad to know.

[Page 177]Madam de Cleve kneel'd at her Bed side, and (very luckily) with her Face from the light: You know, says the Queen-Dauphin, how desirous we were to find out who had caus'd the great change observ'd in Monsieur de Ne­mours. I believe I know the Party; you will be surpriz'd at the Story: He is desperatrly in love with one of the handsomest Ladys of the Court, and she loves him again. You may easily imagine what grief Madam de Cleve felt at these words, which she could not ap­ply to her self, as being of opinion no Person knew of her love for Monsieur de Nemours. I see nothing in this, Madam, answers she, that should occasion a surprize, if you consider the age and the handsomness of Monsieur de Nemours. True, says the Queen-Dauphin, but that which will surprize you, is, to know that the Lady in love with Monsieur de Ne­mours hath never given him any Evidence of it; and is so afraid she shall not be able to con­tinue Mistress of her passion, that she hath con­fess'd it to her Husband, that he may take her from Court; and 'tis Monsieur de Nemours hath related what I say to you.

Madam de Cleve was griev'd at the begin­ning of this discourse, when she thought her self not concern'd in the Adventure, but she was at her wits-end when she heard the con­clusion of it, which too clearly made out, it [Page 178] related to her: She could not answer a word, but continued leaning her Head on the Bed while the Queen was speaking; which she did with that earnestness and concern, she took not any notice of the confusion Madam de Cleve was in. This Story, answers she, seems very improbable, and I would very fain know who it is hath told it you. 'Tis Madam Martigues, says the Queen-Dauphin; and she had it from the Vidame of Chartres. You know he is in love with her, he told it to her as a Secret, and he was told it by the Duke of Nemours: 'Tis true the Duke of Nemours told him not the Name of the Lady, nor would confess himself the other Party concern'd; but the Vidame makes no doubt of it.

As the Queen-Dauphin had done speak­ing, one came up to the Bed: Madam de Cleve had so turn'd her self about she could not see who it was, but was quickly satis­fi'd of the Person, when she heard the Queen-Dauphin cry out, with no less joy than sur­prize, Here he is himself, and I will know of him the truth of it. Madam de Cleve need­ed not turn about to know it was Monsieur de Nemours, as really it was, but went hasti­ly to the Queen-Dauphin, and told her soft­ly, she must take heed of speaking of this Adventure which Monsieur de Nemours had told the Vidame as a Secret, and perhaps it [Page 179] might make make them fall out. You are too wise, says the Queen-Dauphin, laughing, and turn'd towards Monsieur de Nemours. He was drest for the Court-meeting at Night, and with a Grace natural to him, I believe, Madam, says he, I may venture to think you were speaking of me as I came in; that you had a desire to ask me something, and that Ma­dam de Cleve was against it. 'Tis true, an­swers the Queen-Dauphin, but I shall not be so complaisant to her on this occasion, as I am us'd to be. I would know of you, whether a Story I have been told be true, and whether you are not the Person in love with, and be­lov'd by a Lady at Court, who endeavours to conceal her passion from you, and hath confess'd it to her Husband.

You cannot imagine the trouble and perplexity Madam de Cleve was in, she would have thought Death a very good exchange for it. Yet Monsieur de Nemours was in greater, if possible: The discourse of the Queen (who he had reason to believe hated him not) in presence of Madam de Cleve, in whom of all the Court she plac'd greatest confidence, and had the greatest share of hers in return, put him into so strange a con­fusion of extravagant thoughts, it was not in his power to be Master of his Counte­nance: The trouble he saw Madam de Cleve [Page 180] in by his fault, and the thought of his hav­ing given her just cause to hate him, sur­priz'd him so that he could not answer a word. Madam La Dauphin observing him mute, Look upon him, says she to Madam de Cleve; look upon him, and judge if he be not concern'd in this Adventure.

The mean time Monsieur de Nemours hav­ing consider'd how necessary it was to get out of so dangerous a strait, and recover'd his wit and his looks; I confess, Madam, says he, no surprize or affliction could be greater than mine, at the infidelity of the Vidame of Chartres, in relating an Adventure I had in confidence imparted to him, of one of my Friends: I know how to be reveng'd of him, continues he, (smiling very calmly, which rais'd the suspicions the Queen-Dauphin had entertain'd of him,) he hath made me his Confident in matters of no small importance: But I am to seek for the Reason, Madam, why you make me concern'd in this Adventure: The Vidame will not say it, for I have told him the contrary. I may very well be taken to be a Man in love, but I cannot believe, Ma­dam, you will think me of the number of those who are lov'd again. Monsieur de Nemours was glad to say any thing to the Queen-Dauphin, that might relate to that affection he had declar'd for her formerly, to divert [Page 181] her thoughts from the matter in hand. She understood what he said, but instead of an­swering, continu'd reazing him for the change in his looks when she began to dis­course him. I was troubled, Madam, says he, on my Friends account; and to think how justly he would reproach me for telling a Se­cret more dear to him than his Life. Yet he imparted it but half, having kept from me the Name of the Person he loves: All I know, is, he is the most deply in love of any Man liv­ing, and hath the most reason to complain. Think you he hath any cause of complaint, re­plays the Queen-Dauphin, when his passion is so well answer'd again? Can you believe it answer'd, Madam, says he; or that a Lady having a true passion could have discover'd it to her Husband? Doubtless this Lady is not acquainted with Love, and hath taken small notice of the kindness had for her. My Friend cannot flatter himself with any hope, yet un­fortunate as he is, he esteems himself happy at least, to make her afraid she should fall in love with him, and he would not change his condi­tion with that of the happiest Lover in the World. Your Friend hath a passion very easie to be satisfi'd, says she, and I begin to think you not concern'd in the Story; I am almost of the mind of Madam de Cleve, who maintains there's no truth in it. I cannot think it true, [Page 182] says Madam de Cleve, who had been silent all this while; and could it have been true, how should it have been known? 'Tis not pro­bable a Woman capable of a Resolution so ex­traordinary, should have the weakness to speak of it; and surely her Husband would not have related it, or must have been very unworthy to have been so well dealt with, as he had been by his Lady in her unparallell'd Conduct. Mon­sieur de Nemours perceiving the suspicions Madam de Cleve seem'd to have of her Hus­band, did all he could to confirm them, knowing him the most formidable of his Ri­vals: Iealousie, says he, and the desire of finding out what a wife hath, it may be, not thought fit to discover, are capable to make a Husband guilty of indiscretion.

Madam de Cleve was at her last shifts, and not able to endure the discourse any longer; she would have said she was not well, when, by good fortune for her, the Duchess of Va­lentinois came in, who told the Queen-Dau­phin the King was just a coming. The Queen-Dauphin went into her Closet to be drest. Monsieur de Nemours drew up to Ma­dam de Cleve as she follow'd her, I would give my Life, Madam, says he, for a moments discourse with you; yet I have not bing of more importance to tell you, than that if I have said any thing to the Queen-Dauphin wherein she [Page 183] may seem concern'd, I did it for Reasons that relate not to her. Madam de Cleve made as if she heard him not, but left him without giving him a look, and follow'd the King, who was newly come in. There was a great deal of company. She trod on her own Coat, and made a false step, which serv'd her for a pretense to quit a place she had not the pow­er to stay in; and she return'd home.

Monsieur de Cleve came to the Louvre, and was amaz'd not to find his Wife there; they told him of the Accident befallen her: He went presently home to enquire after her, he found her a Bed, and easily knew her hurt was not considerable. When he had been with her some time, he perceiv'd her so ex­cessively sad that it surpriz'd him. ‘What ails you, Madam, says he, methinks you are troubled with other grief than that you complain of.’ ‘I am the most afflicted I possibly can be, answers she, for the use you have made of that extraordinary, or (to name it right) foolish confidence I have had in you. Did I not deserve secresie, or had I not, did not your Interest engage you to it? Must your Curiosity of knowing a Name, (it was my duty not to tell you,) oblige you to make a Confident to assist you in the discovery? Nothing else could have made you fall into so horrible an indiscretion, the [Page 184] consequences of which are as bad as bad may be: This Adventure is known, and I have been just told the Story of it by them who knew not I was principally concern'd in it.’ ‘What say you Madam, answers he? you accuse me to have told what pass'd be­tween you and me, and that the matter is known. I will not justifie my self not to have spoken of it, you cannot believe I e­ver did; and doubtless you have apply'd to your self what was related of another. Ah, Sir, says she, the World hath not an Adventure like mine; there's not another Woman capable of such a thing. The Story I have heard could not have been in­vented by chance, none ever imagin'd the like; an Action of this nature never en­ter'd any thoughts but mine: The Queen-dauphin hath just told me the Story, she had it from the Vidame of Chartres, and he from Monsieur de Nemours.’ ‘Monsieur de Nemours, crys Monsieur de Cleve, like a Man transported and desperate; Doth Mon­sieur de Nemours know you love him, and that I know it? You always Harp on that String, and fix on Monsieur de Nemours be­fore any other, replys she; I have told you I would not answer your suspicions: I am ignorant whether Monsieur de Nemours knows that I am concern'd in the Adven­ture, [Page 185] and the Person you told him of; but he told the Vidame the Story, and said he had it from a Friend of his, who had not nam'd the Lady: It cannot be but that this Friend must be one of yours, whom you trusted the Secret with, in order to discove­ry of what I conceal'd.’ ‘Is there a Friend in the World, says he, to be trusted with a business of this nature? And would any Man purchase the clearing his suspicions at so dear a rate, as acquainting another with that which he would have gladly had con­ceal'd from himself? I think rather, Ma­dam, who it is you have spoken to, 'tis more probable it came from you than me; the trouble you were in was insupportable to you, and to ease your self of the Burden you have made use of a Confident who hath betray'd you.’ ‘Destroy me not quite, says she, and be not so hard hearted to ac­cuse me of a fault you have committed. Can you suspect me of such a thing, and because I told it you, could I tell it any o­ther?’

The Confession Madam de Cleve had made to her Husband was so clear a proof of her sincerity, and she deny'd so flatly she had ac­quainted any with it but himself, he knew not what to think. On the other side, he was sure he had never said a word of it, it [Page 186] was not a matter to be guess'd at; yet it was known, and it must be through one of them two: what troubled him most, was the cer­tainty one or other was privy to the secret, and in all probability it would be divulg'd.

Madam de Cleve's thoughts were much the same with her Husbands; she thought it impossible her Husband would have spoke of it, and as impossible but it must be he had spoken it; the intimation Monsieur de Ne­mours had given what indiscretion a Hus­bands curiosity might make him guilty of, appear'd to hit Monsieur de Cleve so pat, she could not believe it a thing said by chance: this weigh'd with her so far, she was fully perswaded Monsieur de Cleve had abus'd her confidence: Both were so full of their own thoughts, they were silent a confiderable time; and when they spoke to one another, they did but repeat what they had formerly said, and continued more alter'd and e­strang'd in opinion and affection than ever they had been.

You may easily imagine how they past that night: Monsieur de Cleve's patience was exhausted, to see a Lady he ador'd in love with another: he was quite heartless; he had not the courage to resent a matter wherein his Reputation and Honour were so deeply concern'd: he knew not what to [Page 187] think of his Wife; he was to seek what Conduct he should prescribe to her, or him­self; he could discover on all hands nothing but Precipices and Abysses. After long irre­solution, considering he was shortly ingag'd for Spain, he resolv'd to do nothing to in­crease the knowledge or suspition of his un­fortunate Estate: he went to Madam de Cleve, and told her, their business was not to find out which of them two had discover'd the secret, but to endeavour to make it ap­pear the story was a Fable, and she no way concern'd in it; that it was in her power to perswade Monsieur de Nemours, and others, to that purpose, by using him with that se­verity and coldness she ought to express to­wards a man pretending to be in love with her; that such a proceeding would easily al­ter the opinion he had of her having inclina­tion for him; that she was not to trouble her self for what he might have hitherto thought, for that if for the future she avoid­ed discovering any weakness to him, his for­mer thoughts would vanish, and that especi­ally she must frequent the Louvre and Court­meetings as she us'd to do.

Having said this, he quitted her, without expecting her answer: she thought him much in the right, and was so angry with Monsieur de Nemours, she believ'd it an easie matter [Page 188] to put in execution her Husbands advice: but it seem'd a hard task to appear at the Marriage with that calm and tranquility, that freedom and clearness of spirit the occa­sion requir'd: But having been preferr'd be­fore several Princesses (ambitious of the ho­nour) to carry the Queen-Dauphins Train, she could not put it off without occasioning much noise, and enquiry what had mov'd her to it: she resolv'd to strain her self to perform it, but spent the rest of the day in preparing for the solemnity, and thinking her own thoughts: she lock'd her self up in her Closet: that which griev'd her most was, the cause she had to complain of Mon­sieur de Nemours, without an excuse to al­ledge in his favour: she made no doubt but he had told the Vidame the story, he had con­fest as much in her hearing, and spoke in that manner, she could not question but he knew she was concern'd; what excuse for such an imprudence so very unsuitable to the discretion she admir'd him for? while he thought himself unhappy, he continued di­screet; he hath fanci'd himself happy, (though on very uncertain grounds) and hath dismiss'd his discretion: he could not imagine I lov'd him, but he must make the World acquainted with it: he hath said all he could; I made no confession he was the [Page 189] man I lov'd, but he hath believ'd it, and pre­sently declar'd his belief, had he been sure of it, I must have expected he would have taken the same course, and us'd me with no more respect than he hath now done: How was I mistaken, to think him capable to con­ceal any thing that flatter'd his vanity! Yet this is the man I thought so different from the rest, that for his sake I, who differ'd so much from the rest of my Sex, find my self subject to the weakness of other Women: I have lost the affection and esteem of a Hus­band, who should have been my happiness. All the World will shortly look on me as a Woman under a foolish and violent passion: he for whom I have it is not ignorant of it. 'Tis for avoiding these misfortunes I have hazarded my Repose, and my life. These sad Reflections ended in a torrent of tears; but as great as her grief was, she found it sup­portable, if she could be but satisfi'd in Mon­sieur de Nemours.

He was not in a much better condition, he was vex'd at the heart for his indiscretion, in speaking as he had done to the Vidame, and the ill consequences that attended it; he was confounded to think what trouble, perplexity, and grief he had seen Madam de Cleve in. He could not excuse himself for having said to her, about this Adventure, [Page 190] things though innocently gallant in them­selves, yet on this occasion too gross and rude, since they made her sensible he knew she was the Lady had that violent passion, and he the Person for whom she had it. All he could have wish'd for, was to discourse her; but now he thought himself more ob­lig'd to avoid, than desire it. What should I say to her, cry'd he? should I convince her more plainly of what I have already given her too much light? shall I tell her I know she loves me, who never yet durst tell her I lov'd her? shall I begin to own my passion to her, that she may see my hopes have inspired me with bold­ness? can I entertain a thought of going near her, and giving her new trouble by enduring a sight of me? How shall I jusiifie my self? I have no Excuse, I am unworthy she should look on me, and I cannot hope she will ever do it. I have by my faults furnish'd her with better Exceptions against me, than any she could have found: My indiscretion hath lost me the hap­piness, and the glory of being belov'd by the most amiable and most estimable Person in the world. Yet had I lost it without giving her trouble, it would have been some comfort. At this very moment I am more sensible of the harm I have done her, than that I have done my self in forfeiting her favour.

He continued a long time afflicting him­self [Page 191] thus. Still his mind hanker'd to speak with Madam de Cleve: He study'd how to do it, he thought of writing to her; but considering the fault he had committed, and the humour she was of, he was of opinion that the best course he could take, was, to express a profound respect for her, by his af­fliction and silence: to let her see he durst not present himself before her, and to wait patiently what time, Chance, and the Incli­nation she had for him might produce in his favour. And for fear of confirming her suspicion, he resolved to forbear reproaching the Vidame for his unfaithfulness.

The Court was so busied about the Espou­sals of Madam on the Morrow, and her Marriage to be the day after, that it was no hard matter for Monsieur and Madam de Cleve to conceal their sadness from publick notice: The Queen-Dauphin spoke but by the by to Madam de Cleve of the discourse they had had with Monsieur de Nemours, and Monsieur de Cleve industriously shunn'd speaking to his Wife of what was past, so that her trouble prov'd less than she ex­pected.

The Espousals were solemniz'd at the Louvre, and after the Treat and the Ball, the King's Houshold went to ly at the Bishop's Palace according to Custom. In the Morn­ing, [Page 192] the Duke d' Alva having till then gone very plain, appear'd in a Habit of Cloth of Gold, mix'd with fire-colour, yellow and black, all cover'd with Jewels, with a close Crown on his Head. The Prince of Orange richly Apparell'd, with his Livery; and all the Spaniards with theirs, came to attend the Duke from the Hostel de Villeroy (where he was lodg'd) and march'd four a-breast till they came to the Palace. As soon as he ar­riv'd, they went in order to the Church: The King led Madam, with a close Crown on her Head, and her Train born up by Ma­damoiselles de Montpensier and Longueville: The Queen follow'd next, but without a Crown: Next came the Queen-Dauphin, Madam the King's Sister, Madam de Lorrain, and the Queen of Navar, their Trains car­ry'd by Princesses.

The Maids of Honour belonging to the Queens and Princesses, were all richly drest in the same Colours the Queens and Princes­ses had on: so that it was known by the co­lour of their Habits whose Maids they were. They mounted the Scaffold prepared in the Church, and there the Ceremony of the Marriage was perform'd: They return'd to Dinner at the Bishops, and went thence a­bout five a Clock to the great Palace, where the Feast was, and the Parliament, the So­veraign [Page 193] Courts, and the Corporation of the City were desir'd to assist. The King, the Queens, the Princes and Princesses eat at the Marble Table in the great Hall of the Pa­lace: The Duke of Alva sat by the new Queen of Spain, below the steps of the Mar­ble Table: At the King's right hand there was a Table for Embassadors, Arch-Bishops, and Knights of the Order; and on the other hand a Table for those of the Par­liament.

The Duke of Guise, in a Robe of Cloth of Gold Freez'd, serv'd the King as Lord Steward of his Houshold; the Prince of Conde as Parmetier, and the Duke of Ne­mours as Cup-bearer. When the Officers had taken away, the Ball began, and was in­terrupted by Ballets, and extraordinary Ma­chines: then they resum'd the Ball, and af­ter Midnight the King and all the Court re­turn'd to the Louvre. As sad as Madam de Cleve was, all that saw her, and particular­ly Monsieur de Nemours thought her beauty incomparable: Though the bustle of the Ceremony offer'd him several opportunities, he durst not speak to her. But he appear'd so sad, and exprest so much fear to approach her, that Madam de Cleve, looking on it as proceeding from his respect for her, began to think he was not so much to be blam'd, [Page 194] though he had not said a word to justifie him­self: His Conduct was the same the follow­ing days, and wrought the same effect on Madam de Cleve.

At last the day of the Tournament came; the Queens stood in the Galleries upon the Scaffolds prepar'd for them. The four Cham­pions appear'd at the end of the Lists, with a number of Horses and Liveries, the most magnificent sight ever seen in France.

The King's Colours were Black and White, which he always wore on the account of Madam de Valentinois being a Widow. Monsieur de Ferrara and his Retinue had Red and Yellow; Monsieur de Guise Carnation and White, being the Colours of a young Lady whom he had lov'd when a Maid, and lov'd her still though he durst not make it appear. Monsieur de Nemours had Black and Yellow; why he wore them was not known, but it was no hard matter for Madam de Cleve to guess at it: she remember'd she had said before him, she lov'd Yellow, and was sor­ry it suited not with her Natural Complexi­on; which was the reason he thought he might appear in that Colour without indi­scretion, because Madam de Cleve not wear­ing it, there could be no suspicion he wore it on her account.

The Champions perform'd with incompa­rable [Page 195] address. Though the King was the best Horseman in his Kingdom, they knew not who had the advantage. Monsieur de Nemours had a Grace in all his Actions won him the favour of Persons less interess'd than Madam de Cleve: she no sooner discover'd him at the end of the Lists, but she felt her self under extraordinary Emotions; and e­very Course he made, she could scarce hide her joy when he had well finish'd his Ca­reer.

In the Evening when all was almost over, and the Company ready to break up, the King, (provok'd only by the ill Fate of the State), would needs break another Lance: He commanded the Count de Mantgomery (who was very dextrous at it) to appear in the Lists; the Count begg'd his Majesty would excuse him, alledging all the Reasons he could think of; but the King, half angry, sent him word he commanded him to do it. The Queen conjur'd the King not to run any more, that he had perform'd so well he ought to rest satisfi'd, and that she intreated him to come to her. He answer'd, it was for love of her he would have another Course, and enter'd the Barriere. She sent Monsieur de Savoy to pray him the second time to come back, but all to no purpose. They ran, the Lances were broken, and a Splinter of the [Page 196] Count of Montgomery's hit the King in the Eye, and stuck there. The King fell: His Gentlemen, and Monsieur de Montmorency, Marshal of the Camp, ran to him. They were astonish'd to see him so wounded, but the King was hearty; he said it was a very slight hurt, and pardon'd the Count. You may judge the trouble and affliction so sad an Ac­cident occasion'd, at a time wholly dedicated to Gayety and Mirth. As soon as the King was laid in Bed, and the Chyrurgeons had search'd the Wound, it appear'd very consi­derable. The Constable presently thought of the Prediction (that the King should be slain in Duel), and made no doubt but it would be accomplish'd.

The King of Spain, then at Brussels, hav­ing news of the Accident, sent his Physici­an, a Man of Great Reputation; but he jug'd the King past hope.

A Court so divided, and full of contrary Interests, could not but be in extraordinary disorder, and factiously busie, in such a Con­juncture: Yet all was conceal'd, and the whole Court seem'd employ'd only about the recovery of the King; the Queens, Prin­ces, and Princesses scarce stirring out of his Anti-Chamber.

Madam de Cleve knowing her self oblig'd to be there, that she should see Monsieur de [Page 197] Nemours there, and should not be able to conceal from her Husband the disorder that sight would put her to; and being sensi­ble the very presence of that Prince would justifie and clear him in her thoughts, and destroy the resolutions she had taken against him, she pretended her self sick. The Court was too busie to mind what she did, or to enquire whether her indisposition were real or feign'd. Only her Husband knew the truth of it. That troubled her not: she continu'd at home, little concern'd for the great Change that was shortly expected, and full of her own thoughts which she had liberty enough to give her self up to. Eve­ry one ran to Court to enquire of the King. Monsieur de Cleve came at certain hours to bring her news: he observ'd the same method of proceeding towards her he us'd to do, save only when they were alone they were a little less free, and more cold towards one another than formerly. He said not a word of what was past, and she had not the power, nor thought it convenient to re­sume the discourse of it.

Monsieur de Nemours, who waited an op­portunity of speaking to Madam de Cleve, was surpriz'd and troubl'd he could not have a sight of her. The King was so ill, that the seventh day the Physicians gave him up. [Page 198] Her receiv'd the news of the certainty of his Death with extraordinary constancy, which was the more admirable, in that he lost his Life by so unfortunate an Accident, that he was to die in the Flower of his Age, hap­py, ador'd by his People, and belov'd by a Mistress he was desperatly in love with: The day before he dy'd he caus'd Madam, his Sister, to be marry'd to Monsieur de Sa­voy, without Ceremony. You may guess the condition the Duchess of Valentinois was in: The Queen would not permit her to see the King, but sent to demand of her the King's Signet, and the Jewels of the Crown, she had in her Custody. The Du­chess enquir'd if the King were dead, and being told no; I have no Master yet then, says she, and no body can oblige me to part with what he trusted in my Hands. As soon as he expir'd at the Chasteau de Tournels, the Dukes of Ferrara, Guise, and Nemours, conducted the Queen-Mother, the King and Queen-Consort to the Louvre. Monsieur de Nemours led the Queen-Mother: As they began to walk, she step'd back a little, and told the Queen, her Daughter-in-Law, it was her place to go first; but it was easie to see there was more sharpness, than civility in the Complement.

THE Queen-Mother was now wholly govern'd by the Cardinal of Lorrain: the Vidame of Chartres was quite out of fa­vour with her; and the love he had for Ma­dam Martigues, and for liberty, made him less sensible of her displeasure than a matter of that consequence might seem to deserve. The Cardinal, the ten days the King continued ill, had leisure to form his designs, and prevail with the Queen to take Resolutions suitable to his [Page 200] Projects: so that as soon as the King was dead, the Queen order'd the Constable to stay at the Tournels with the Corps, to perform the usual Ceremonies: This kept him at di­stance, and out of the Scene of Action: He dispatch'd a Courrier to the King of Navarr to hasten him to Court, to join with him in opposing the Rise of the House of Guise. The Duke of Guise was made General of the Armies, and the Cardinal of Lorrain Sur-intendant of the Finances. The Duchess of Valentinois was expell'd the Court. The Cardinal of Tournon the Constable's declar'd Enemy, and the Chancellor Olivier declar'd Enemy to the Duchess of Valentinois, were both call'd to Court. In a word, the Court had intirely chang'd Face: The Duke of Guise rank'd himself with the Princes of the Blood, to carry the King's Cloak at the Fu­neral. He and his Brothers were absolute Masters at Court, not only through the cre­dit the Cardinal had with the Queen, but be­cause she thought it in her power to re­move them if they should give her Um­brage, and that she could not remove the Constable who was upheld by the Princes of the Blood.

The days of mourning for the deceas'd King being over, the Constable came to the Louvre, but had a very cold reception from [Page 201] the King. He would have spoken with him in private, but the King call'd for Messieurs de Guise, and before them told him, he ad­vis'd him to take his ease; that the Finances and the Command of the Armies were dis­pos'd of, and when he should stand in need of his Counsels, he would send for him to Court. The Queen-Mother receiv'd him more cold­ly than the King had done, and did not for­bear to reproach him, with his having said to the late King, his Children were not like him. The King of Navarr arriv'd, and was no better receiv'd. The Prince of Conde, more impatient than his Brother, complain'd of it aloud, but all to no purpose. He was remov'd from Court, under pretence of be­ing sent into Flanders to sign the Ratification of the Peace. They shew'd the King of Navarr a forg'd Letter from the King of Spain, where­in he was charg'd with designs to surprize some strong places belonging to that King: they told him it was high time to look about him, and prepare for defence: and, in a word, perswaded him to resolve going for Bearn. The Queen-Mother, to furnish him with a pretence, gave him in Charge the Conduct of Madam Elizabeth to Savoy, and made him take his Journey before her: so that there was not a Person left at Court to ballance the Power of the House of Guise.

[Page 202]Though it fell out unluckily for Monsieur de Cleve, he had not the Conducting Ma­dam Elizabeth; yet the greatness of the Per­son preferr'd before him, took from him all cause of complaint. But the loss of the Employ griev'd him not so much for depriv­ing him of the honour he should have re­ceiv'd by it, as for robbing him of so fair an opportunity to remove his Wife from Court, without suspicion, or the least appearance of design.

Soon after the decease of the late King, a Resolution was taken the King should go to Rhemes to be anointed. Madam de Cleve having all this while kept home, on pretence of being ill, no sooner heard this news, but she pray'd her Husband to dispence with her following the Court, and to give her leave to go take the Air at Colonniers for her health. He told her he would not enquire whether she desir'd it on the account of her health, but he was ready to consent to what she de­sir'd; and it was no hard Task to consent to what he had already resolv'd. As good an Opinion as he had of his Wife's Virtue, he thought it imprudent to expose her longer to the view of a Man she was in love with.

Monsieur de Nemours quickly knew she would not go along with the Court, and could not find in his heart to be gone with­out [Page 203] seeing her. The Night before the Court was to remove he went to her House, as late as in decency he could, that he might find her a­lone. Fortune favour'd his Intention, as he enter'd the Court he met Madam Nevers, and Madam Martigues coming out, they told him they had left her alone. He went up under an agitation and trouble, parallell'd only by that Madam de Cleve was in, when told Monsieur de Nemours was come to see her: the fear of his speaking to her of his passion, her apprehension she might give him too fa­vourable an answer, the disturbance this Visit might occasion to her Husband, the difficulty of giving him an account of it, or concealing it, presented themselves to her imagination all in a moment, and put her in­to a perplexity that made her resolve avoid­ing the thing, than which peradventure she desir'd none more. She sent one of her Wo­men to Monsieur de Nemours, who was in her Anti-Chamber, to tell him she had late­ly been very ill, and was extremely sorry she could not receive the honour he would have done her. What a grief was this to him, not to see Madam de Cleve; and therefore not to see her, because she had no mind he should? He was to be gone on the Mor­row, he could not expoct from Fortune a more favourable opportunity. He had not [Page 204] spoken to her since the discourse at the Queen-Dauphin's, and had reason to believe his telling the Vidame had destroy'd all his hopes. In a word, he went away vex'd to the very Heart.

As soon as Madam de Cleve had recover'd her self a little, out of the trouble she was in at the thoughts of Monsieur de Nemours being come to visit her, she was so far from approving the reasons that induc'd her to ex­cuse her self from seeing him, that she con­demn'd her self for having refus'd his Visit; and if it had not been too late, she would have had him call'd back.

Madam de Nevers, and Madam de Marti­gues, went directly from Madam de Cleve, to the Queen-Dauphins; Monsieur de Cleve was there. The Queen-Dauphin ask'd them where they had been? they answer'd they came from Madam de Cleve, where they had spent part of the Afternoon, with a great deal of company, and left no body there but Monsieur de Nemours. These words, though harmless and indifferent in them­selves, pass'd not as such with Monsieur de Cleve: he had reason to imagine Monsieur de Nemours might have several opportunities of speaking to Madam de Cleve, but to think he was alone with her at her Lodgings, where he might declare to her his passion, [Page 205] appear'd that moment a thing so strange and intollerable, he was more jealous than ever. It was not in his power to stay at the Queen-Dauphin's, he went thence not knowing why, nor whether it were with design to in­terrupt Monsieur de Nemours: When he drew near home, he look'd about to see what signs he might discover of that Prince's being still there. It was some comfort to find he was gone, and it pleas'd him to find he could not have been long there. He fancy'd, peradventure, it was not Monsieur de Ne­mours he had reason to be jealous of. And though he could not doubt it, yet he endea­vour'd to perswade himself he ought to que­stion it. But he had been already so clearly convinc'd to the contrary, it was not in his power to continue long in that uncertainty he so earnestly desir'd. He went straight into his Wife's Chamber, and after some general discourse, he could not forbear asking her what she had done in his absence, and who had been to see her. She gave him account of both, but finding she mention'd not Mon­sieur de Nemours, he ask'd, trembling, if those were all she had seen, that she might have occasion to name Monsieur de Nemours, and he have the comfort to find she put no tricks upon him. She had not seen him, therefore she nam'd him not. Monsieur de [Page 206] Cleve, with a sorrowful tone, replys, Have you not seen Monsieur de Nemours, or have you forgot him? I have not seen him indeed, says she; I was ill, and sent one of my Women to make my Excuse. You were not ill, but for him then, replys he; you admitted all other Visits, why not his as the rest? What reason have you to fear a sight of him? Why should he know by you that you are afraid to see him? Why should you make it appear to him you make use of the Power his Passion gives you over him? Durst you refuse to see him, but that you know him sensible it proceeded not from Incivility, but Rigour; And what reason have you to be ri­gorous to him? From a Person like you, Madam, any thing but indifference is a favour. I did not think, says she, you had any such suspici­on of Monsieur de Nemours, that you could have reproached me for not admitting a Visit from him. Yet I reproach you, Madam, re­plys he, and have ground enough for it: Why should you not see him, if he never spoke to you of his love? But he hath declar'd it, Madam; 'tis not possible it could have made so deep an impression in you, had you perceiv'd it only by his silence: It was not in your power to tell me the whole trugh, you have conceal'd from me the greater, and more considerable part; you have repented that little you confess'd to me, you were not able to finish your Confession: I am [Page 207] more unhappy than I thought I was, and the unhappyest of Men. You are my Wife, I love you as my Mistress, and the same time see you in love with another; and he the most ami­able in the Court: He sees you every day, and knows you are in love with him. Ha, crys he, I believ'd you might overcome the Passion you had for him, but sure I had lost my Reason to think it. I know not, replys she very sor­rowfully, whether you did ill to judge favou­rably of a proceeding so extraordinary as mine; nor do I know but I might be mistaken, when I thought you would do me Iustice. Never doubt it, Madam, says he; you were mistaken, you expected from me things as impossible as those I expected from you: How could you think I should do you right, or act according to reason? You had sure forgot I was desperately in love with you, and that I was your Husband. Ei­ther of these were enough to run a Man into extremities, what cannot both do when thus met in one? Ha, what do they not? My sen­timents, my thoughts are uncertain and violent, I cannot master them. I no longer think my self worthy of you, nor do I think you are worthy of me. I adore you, I hate you: I offend you, I beg your pardon: I admire you, I [...] I do so. In a word, I have lost both [...] and my reason; I wonder I have [...] since you spoke to me at [Page 208] Colonniers, and the Queen-Dauphin told you the Adventure was known. I cannot disco­ver how it came abroad, nor what pass'd be­tween Monsieur de Nemours and you on that account. You will never acquaint me with it, nor do I desire you should: I beg only you will remember you have made me the most unfortu­nate, the most wretched of Men.

Monsieur de Cleve having said this, left his Wife, and departed on the morrow without seeing her; but he writ her a Letter full of trouble, civility, and kindness: she sent him an answer so moving, so full of assurance of her Conduct past and to come, that being grounded on truth, and lively expressions of the thoughts of her heart, the Letter made impression on Monsieur de Cleve, and restor'd, in some measure, the former tranquility and calm of his spirits: Besides, his knowing Monsieur de Nemours was to go to the King, and could not be with Madam de Cleve, con­tributed not a little to his repose: when-ever this Lady spoke to her Husband, the love he exprest for her, the handsomness of his pro­ceeding, the kindness he had for her, and what she ow'd him as her Husband, had that strong operation on her, capable, one would think, to deface the Idea's she had of Mon­sieur de Nemours; but it was but for a time, and presently after the same Idea's came [Page 209] fresh into her mind, and made deeper impres­sion than ever.

The first days after Monsieur de Nemours was gone, she was scarce sensible of his ab­sence; at length it troubled her sore: from the hour she fell in love with him, not a day had past but she had fear'd or hop'd to meet him, and it was no small grief to her to think it was not in the power of Fortune to make them now meet one another.

She went to Colonniers, and order'd to be carri'd thither the great Pictures she had caus'd to be copied out of the Originals Ma­dam de Valentinois had bought for her fine House at Amet. All the remarkable actions of the Kings Reign were represented in those Pieces: amongst the rest, was the Siege of Metz, and those who had signaliz'd them­selves were drawn there much to the Life; Monsieur de Nemours was of the number, which perhaps made her desirous of the Pi­ctures.

Madam de Martigues having not been a­ble to go with the Court, promis'd to spend some days with Madam de Cleve at Colon­niers. Though both shar'd the Queens fa­vour, yet it was without envy or strangeness to one another: they continued good friends, yet neither was the others Confident of the Darling Thoughts. Madam de Cleve knew [Page 210] Madam de Martigues lov'd the Vidame, but Madam de Martigues knew nothing of Ma­dam de Cleve's being in love with Monsieur de Nemours, nor of his love for her, Madam de Martigues lov'd her the better, as being Neece to the Vidame; and Madam de Cleve lov'd Madam de Martigues, as being in love as she her self was, and in love with the most intimate Friend of him who had a passion for her.

Madam de Martigues came to Colonniers as she promis'd, and found Madam de Cleve led a very desolate life, she affected solitude, and to pass the Evenings in the Gardens without the company of her Domesticks: she frequented the Pavillion where Monsieur de Nemours had heard her, she entred the Bour that open'd to the Forrest: her Wo­men, and other Servants, staid in the other, or under the Pavillion, and came not to her unless she call'd them.

Madam de Martigues having never seen Colonniers before, was surpriz'd at the beau­ties of it, particularly at the pleasantness of the Pavillion. Madam de Cleve and she usu­ally past the Evenings there: Two young Ladies (as they) both passionately in love, be­ing at liberty, to pass the night in the finest place in the world, knew not how to make an end of discoursing one another, being ex­tremely [Page 211] pleas'd with the Conversation, though neither made the other her Confi­dent. Madam de Martigues could hardly have left Colonniers, but that she was to go where the Vidame was: she took her leave, and went for Chambort, where the Court then was.

The Cardinal of Lorrain had anointed the King at Rhemes, and the design was to pass the rest of the Summer at the Castle of Chambort, which was newly built. The Queen express'd great joy to see Madam de Martigues at Court, and after several Evi­dences of it, she enquir'd what news of Ma­dam de Cleve, and what she did in the Coun­try: Monsieur de Nemours, and Monsieur de Cleve were both with the Queen that ve­ry time. Madam Martigues had been so taken with Colonniers, she gave the Queen an account of the beauties of it, and en­larg'd upon the Description of the Pavillion in the Forrest, and the pleasure Madam de Cleve took to walk alone there some part of the Night. Monsieur de Nemours, who knew the place well enough to understand Madam Martigues's discourse, thought it not impossible to have a sight of Madam de Cleve there, without being seen by any but her self. He ask'd her some questions for his better direction, and Monsieur de Cleve, [Page 212] who look'd earnestly on Monsieur de Ne­mours while Madam Martigues was speak­ing, fancy'd he knew what was his design: the questions he ask'd confirm'd him the more, so that he made no doubt but he in­tended to go see his Wife. Nor was he mista­ken; for Monsieur de Nemours was so set upon't, that having spent the Night in con­sidering how to execute his design, he went betimes on the morrow to ask the King leave to go to Paris, on a pretended occasion.

Monsieur de Cleve question'd not the oc­casion of the Journey, but resolv'd to satis­fie himself of his Wife's Conduct, and con­tinue no longer under an uncertainty so trou­blesome: He had a desire to go the same time Monsieur de Nemours set out, and hide himself where he might discover the suc­cess of the Journey; but fearing dis depar­ture would be thought extraordinary, and Monsieur de Nemours upon notice might take other measures, he resolv'd to trust a Gentleman that belong'd to him, whose faith­fulness and wit he was fully assur'd of: he ac­quainted him with the trouble he was in, and how virtuous his Wife had been till then; and order'd him to follow Monsieur de Nemours, watch him narrowly, and see whether he went to Colonniers, and whe­ther he enter'd the Garden by Night.

[Page 213]The Gentleman, very capable of such a Commission, discharg'd it with a great deal of exactness: he follow'd Monsieur de Nemours to a Village within half a league of Colonniers, where Monsieur de Nemours made a halt; which the Gentleman easily guess'd was for no other end, but to stay there till Night. But he thought it best for him to pass through the Village, and enter the Forrest the way he thought Monsieur de Nemours must pass. He took his measures very right, for it was no sooner Night but he heard some walk, and though it were dark he easily knew Monsieur de Nemours: He saw him go round the Garden to hearken if he could discover any Person, and spy out a place convenient to pass over. There were double Pales, and very high, on purpose to prevent entrance, so that it was hard getting over; yet Mon­sieur de Nemours made a shift to get in, and was no sooner enter'd the Garden, but he quickly knew where Madam de Cleve was: He saw a great light in the Bower, the Win­dows all open, and slipping along by the Pales side got close to the Bower; you may imagine in what trouble and Emotion he took his station behind a Window which serv'd him conveniently to see what Madam de Cleve was doing. He saw she was alone, but thought her beauty so admirable he [Page 214] could scarce master the transport it put him in. It was hot, and she had nothing on her Head and her Neck, but her Hair hanging carelesly down. She was on a Bed of Re­pose, with several Baskets full of Ribbands before her, out of which she made choice of some; and he observ'd she pick'd out the ve­ry Colours he wore at the Tourney. He could see her make them up into Knots for an Indian Cane, which had once been his, and he had given it his Sister: Madam de Cleve took it from her, as if she had never known it had been his: When she had ty'd on the Knots, with a grace and sweetness suitable to the delicacy of the Sentiments in her Heart, she took a great Wax Candle in her Hand, and went to the Table over-against the Picture of the Siege of Metz, wherein was the Pourtraict of Monsieur de Nemours: She sat her down, and fell a looking on that Pour­traict with that attention and thoughtfulness, which could proceed only from a passionate love.

'Tis impossible to express the Sentiments of Monsieur de Nemours that moment; to see by Night, in the finest place of the World, a Person he ador'd; to see her and she not know it, to see her wholly taken up with things relating to him, and the passion she hid from him, was a pleasure no other Lover ever tasted, or imagin'd.

[Page 215]He was so transported he stood gazing at her, without considering how precious his time was: having bethought himself a lit­tle, he believ'd it best not to speak to her till she came into the Garden, where he might do it with more safety at greater distance from her Women. Yet seeing she continu'd in the Bower, he resolv'd to enter: When about to do it, what trouble was he in? how fearful to displease her, and make her change her Countenance so full of sweetness and love, into looks full of anger and seve­rity!

Presently he thought he had done very unwisely (not to come see Madam de Cleve, but) to think of appearing to her: He look'd on it as an extravagant boldness, to surprize, at midnight, a Person to whom he never durst declare his passion for her: He could not see how he could pretend to audience from her, but believ'd she might justly be of­fended with him, for the danger he expos'd her to by the Accidents might happen. His courage quite fail'd him, and he was several times upon the point of returning without letting her see him: Yet push'd on with the desire he had to speak to her, and encou­rag'd by the hopes given him by what he had newly seen, he advanc'd a few steps, but in such disorder, that a Scarf he wore catch'd [Page 216] at the Window and made a noise. Madam de Cleve turn'd about, and whether her Fan­cy was full of him, or that she stood in a place so directly to the light that she might know him, she thought it was he; and with­out the least hesitation, or once looking to­wards him, went into the place where her Women were. She was so disorder'd, that to conceal it from them, she told them she was ill: Which she did to give them employ­ment about her, and him an opportunity of escaping unseen. Reflecting on what was past, she thought her self deceiv'd, and that she did but fancy she had seen him: she knew he was at Chambort, and could not perswade her self he would have undertaken so hazar­dous a Journey. She had a mind several times to return into the Garden, to see if any one were there; and perhaps she no less de­sir'd, than fear'd, to find Monsieur de Nemours there: At last reason prevail'd, and she thought it more prudent to continue in doubt, than to run the hazard of clearing the matter; yet she could not of a long time resolve to quit a place she thought him so near to, and it was almost day e're she re­turn'd to the Castle.

Monsieur de Nemours staid in the Garden while there was any light, in hopes of ano­ther sight of Madam de Cleve, though he [Page 217] was perswaded she knew him, and was gone out of purpose to shun him; but hearing the Doors lock'd, his hopes were at an end. He went to take Horse near the place where Monsieur de Cleve's Gentleman was watch­ing him. This Gentleman follow'd him to the same Village, where he left him in the Evening. Monsieur de Nemours resolv'd to spend the rest of the Day there, and return at Night to Colonniers, to see if Madam de Cleve would have the cruelty to shun him, or not expose her self to view. He was ve­ry glad to find himself so much in her thoughts, yet it could not but trouble him to see her so bent to avoid him.

Never was passion so tender and violent as that of this Prince: He went under the Wil­lows along a little Brook that ran behind the House, where he hid himself, that no notice might be taken of him. He gave himself up to the transports of his Love, which were so vehement he let fall some tears; not those of pure grief, but mingled with the pleasure and charms Love only is acquainted with.

He was now at leisure to reflect on all the Actions of Madam de Cleve, since he had been in love with her. What a modest rigour she had always us'd him with, though she lov'd him. For 'tis certain, says he, she loves me, [Page 218] I cannot doubt of it; the deepest engagements, the highest favours, are not so infallible Evi­dences of it, as those I have seen: yet she uses me as if she hated me. I hoped time would have produc'd in her some change in my favour, but now I must not expect it; I find her still upon her Guard against me, and her self: If she did not love me I would apply my self to please her; but I please her, she loves me, and yet hides it from me: What am I to expect? what change can I hope of my Fate? What, shall I have the love of the most amiable Per­son in the World, and be under that excess of passion that proceeds from the certainty of be­ing lov'd by her, only to make me more sensible of being ill us'd? Let me see you love me, fair Princess, crys he, declare to me your Senti­ments, let me once in my Life be assur'd of them by you; I am content you should resume your rigour, and use me ever after with the se­verity that so mortifies me: Look on me at least with those Eyes you look'd last Night on my Picture in my sight. Can you look with so much kindness on my Picture, yet shun me so cruelly? What are you afraid of? You love me, and 'tis in vain to conceal it from me; you have, against your will, given me Eviden­ces of it. I know my good fortune, permit me to enjoy it, and do not make me unhappy. Is't possible Madam de Cleve should love me, [Page 219] yet I be unhappy? How beautiful she appear'd in the Night? how did I forbear throwing my self at her Feet? Had I done it, perhaps the respect I express'd for her would have kept her from shunning me: Yet peradventure she did not know me, I trouble my self more than I need: the sight of a Man at an hour so extraordina­ry would have frighten'd her. These thoughts took up his time all the Day, he wish'd im­patiently for the Night; and as soon as it came he went for Colonniers. Monsieur de Cleve's Gentleman, being disguis'd, that he might be less observ'd, follow'd him to the place he had follow'd him the Night before, and saw him enter the Garden again. Mon­sieur de Nemours quickly found Madam de Cleve had not expos'd her self to a second view, the Garden-Doors being all shut, he turn'd him every way about to discover light, but saw none.

Madam de Cleve apprehending he might return, kept her Chamber, fearing she might not still have the power to shun him; and unwilling to expose her self to the hazard of speaking to him in a manner so unsuitable to her Conduct hitherto.

Monsieur de Nemours, though out of hopes of seeing her, could not resolve to quit presently a place she frequented. He pass'd that Night in the Garden, and had the [Page 220] pleasure of seeing the Objects she beheld eve­ry day. It was Sun-rising e're he thought of retiring, which he did at last for fear of be­ing discover'd.

He had not the power to go for Court, without having seen Madam de Cleve. He went to his Sisters, the Duchess of Mercoeur, at her House near Colonniers: She was ex­tremely surpriz'd at her Brother's arrival, but he invented so probable a Pretence for his Journey, and order'd his business so hand­somly, that she made the first Proposal of vi­siting Madam de Cleve. This design was to be executed that very day, Monsieur de Ne­mours having told his Sister, he would leave her at Colonniers, and go directly thence to the King. This he did in hopes she would take her leave before his departure from Co­lonniers, and afford him an infallible oppor­tunity of speaking to Madam de Cleve.

At their arrival she was walking in the Garden: The sight of Monsieur de Nemours troubled her not a little, and silenc'd all doubts of her having seen him the Night before: It anger'd her to find him guilty of so much boldness, and impudence. He was heartily troubled to observe in her Counte­nance an Air of Coldness towards him. Their discourse was general, yet he had the address to shew so much wit, so much com­plaisance, [Page 221] and admiration for Madam de Cleve, that he dissipated in some measure the coldness she had express'd towards him at first.

His first fear being over, he seem'd very curious to see the Pavillion in the Forrest: He spoke of it as the most pleasant place in the World, and describ'd it so particualrly, that Madam de Mercoeur told him, he must needs have been often there, to be so well acquainted with all the beauties of it. I do not think for all that, says Madam de Cleve, Monsieur de Nemours has ever been there: it has been finish'd but a while since. 'Tis not long since I have been there, says he, looking on her; and I cannot tell whether I have not reason to be glad you have forgot seeing me there. Madam de Mercoeur was so taken up with viewing the beauty of the Gardens, she minded not what her Brother said. Madam de Cleve blush'd, and with her Eyes to the Ground, without looking on Monsieur de Ne­mours, I do not remember, says she, I ever saw you there; and if you were ever there, it was without my knowledge. 'Tis true, Ma­dam, says he, I was there without order, and pass'd there the most cruel, as well as the most pleasant moments of my Life.

Madam de Cleve understood very well what he said, but made him no answer: Her care [Page 222] was to prevent Madam de Mercoeur's going into the Bower where Monsieur de Nemours's Picture was, which she had no mind should be seen. She kept her in discourse, and the time pass'd away so insensibly, that Madam de Mercoeur began to talk of going homewards: But when Madam de Cleve saw Monsieur de Nemours and his Sister were not to go toge­ther, she quickly guess'd what she might be expos'd to, and was in the same straight she had been in at Paris, and made use of the same Expedient: The fear she had this Visit might confirm her Husbands suspicions, con­tributed much to the resolution she took. That Monsieur de Nemours might not conti­nue alone with her, she told Madam de Mer­coeur she would bring her as far as the edge of the Forrest, and order'd her Coach to be made ready. Monsieur de Nemours turn'd pale as Ashes, at the rigour of Madam de Cleve. Madam de Mercoeur ask'd him if he were ill. He look'd on Madam de Cleve, (though no body perceiv'd it,) and convinc'd her by his looks, his illness was a pure effect of his despair. However, there was no re­remedy but he must leave her in his Sisters company, without daring to follow her; and having told his Sister he would return to Court directly from Colonniers, there was no going back with her. He went for Paris, [Page 223] and thence on the morrow for Chambort.

Monsieur de Cleve's Gentleman had ob­serv'd him all this while. He followd him to Paris, and when he found Monsieur de Nemours was gone for Chambort, he took Post to get thither before him, and give ac­count of his Journey. His Master expected his return with impatience, as if the happi­ness, or unhappiness of his Life depended upon it.

As soon as he saw him, he gather'd from his Countenance, and his silence, he had no good news for him: He continued some time astonish'd, with his Face dejected, and not able to speak to him; at last he made signs with his hand he should withdraw. Go, says he, I know what you have to say to me; but I have not the power to hear it. I cannot in­form you any thing, says the Gentleman, on which to ground a sure Iudgment. 'Tis true, Monsieur de Nemours went two Nights suc­cessively into the Garden in the Forrest, and the Day after he was at Colonniers with the Duchess of Mercoeur. 'Tis enough, replys Monsieur de Cleve, 'tis enough, making signs to him to withdraw; I need no further disco­very. The Gentleman was forc'd to leave his Master abandon'd to his despair, which was perhaps the most violent of any hath been known: few men of his courage, and [Page 224] so deeply in love as he, having felt the same time the grief caus'd by the unfaithfulness of a Mistress, and the same occasion'd by being deceiv'd by a Wife.

His trouble was so great, it presently cast him into a Fever; and with such ill Symp­toms, it was thought very dangerous. Ma­dam de Cleve was inform'd of it, and came away in all haste to him. When she arriv'd he was worse: besides, she found him in such a strangeness and coldness for her, she was equally surpriz'd and afflicted at it: She saw it was a pain to him to receive the ser­vices she did him in his sickness, but she im­puted it to his Malady.

When she was come to the Court at Blois, Monsieur de Nemours could not forbear ex­pressing his joy at her being in the same place where he was: He endeavour'd to see her, and went every day to Monsieur de Cleve's under pretence of enquiring after his health, but all to no purpose: she stirr'd not out of her Husband's Chamber, and was sorry at the heart for the condition he was in. It madded Monsieur de Nemours to see her so afflicted, as an Evidence of her kindness for Monsieur de Cleve, and a dangerous diversi­on for the affection she had for Monsieur de Nemours. But Monsieur de Cleve was sick to that extremity, it gave him new hopes: [Page 225] He saw it very probable Mad. de Cleve should be shortly at liberty to follow her inclination, and that he might expect some durable plea­sure and happiness for the future. But these thoughts were too full of trouble and trans­port to last, and the fear of further misfor­tune, by being frustrated of his hopes, put them quite out of his Head.

Monsieur de Cleve the mean time was al­most given up by the Physicians. One Morn­ing (having had a very ill Night) he said he would rest: Madam de Cleve alone con­tinu'd with him in the Chamber, and in­stead of taking any Repose, thought him ve­ry restless. She fell on her Knees by his Bed-side, and though Monsieur de Cleve had set up a resolution never to acquaint her with the violent displeasure he had conceiv'd a­gainst her, yet the care she took of him, and her great affliction (which he could not but sometimes think real, as at other times he look'd on it as an Evidence of dissimulation and perfideousness) distracted him so vio­lently with contrary Sentiments, that it was not in his power not to give them vent.

You shed many tears, Madam, says he, for a Death you are the cause of, and cannot give you the trouble you pretend to be in. I am no longer in a condition to reproach you, adds he, with a Voice weakened with sickness and [Page 226] grief; but I die with the cruel and torment­ing displeasure you occasion'd me: Was it ne­cessary an Action so extraordinary as that you told me of at Colonniers should have Conse­quences so very unsuitable? Why would you de­clare to me your passion for Monsieur de Ne­mours, if your Vertue could hold out no longer to resist it? I lov'd you to that extremity, I would have been glad to have been deceiv'd, I confess it to my shame: I have lamented my loss of that false repose you robb'd me of; why did you not leave me in that quiet blindness so many Husbands live in? peradventure I had never known you had been in love with Mon­sieur de Nemours: I shall die, says he, but know, you have made Death welcom and plea­sing to me; and having depriv'd me of the e­steem and tenderness I had for you, you have render'd my life a trouble, I cannot but abhor it: What should I live for, continues he, to spend my days with a Person I have lov'd so ex­tremely, and as cruelly been deceiv'd by, or to live apart from the same person, and to break out openly into violences so opposite to my humor, and the love I had for you? a love greater than it appear'd to you; Madam, I hid a great part of it from you, for fear of being troublesome to you and forfeiting your Esteem by actions and expressions of it not becoming a Husband. In a word, I deserv'd your affection more than [Page 227] once; yet I die without regret, since I could not have it, nor can desire it any longer. Adieu, Madam: you will one day be sorry for a Man that lov'd you with a true and honest passion: You will feel the smart of your Engagements, and know the difference between being lov'd as I lov'd you, and their love, who pretending af­fection for you, seek only the honour of sedu­cing you: But my death will set you at liber­ty, and you may without a Crime make Mon­sieur de Nemours happy. What matters it what happens when I am no more, must I have the weakness to trouble my head with those things?

Madam de Cleve was so far from imagin­ing her Husband suspected her, she under­stood not what he meant, and fancied only he reproach'd her for the Inclination she had for Monsieur de Nemours. At last, awak'd on the sudden; ‘A Crime, says she, I am a stran­ger to the thoughts of it; the severest Ver­tue could not have prescrib'd any Conduct but that I have follow'd; I never did any thing but I wish'd you a Witness of it: Could you have wish'd me a Witness, re­plies he, (looking on her with disdain) the Nights you spent with Monsieur de Ne­mours? Ah, Madam, is it you I speak of, when I speak of a Lady that hath spent Nights with a Man not her Husband! No, [Page 228] Sir, says she, I am not the Person you speak of; I never spent a Night, nor a moment with Monsieur de Nemours; he never saw me in private, I never endur'd he should do it, I never gave him the hearing, I would take all the Oaths—No more, Madam, I pray, says he, a false Oath, or a Confession, would perhaps trouble me alike.’ Madam de Cleve had not the power to answer, her tears and her grief took away her speech: Striving at last, ‘Look on me, says she, at least give me the hearing; were it only my Concern, I would bear your Reproaches, but your Life is in the case: Hear me for your own sake, I am so Innocent, it is im­possible but I shall convince you of the truth. Would to God you could perswade me to it, crys he, but what is't you can say? Hath not Monsieur de Nemours been at Co­lonniers with his Sister? Had he not spent the two Nights before with you in the For­rest Garden? If that be my Crime, replies she, I can easily justifie my self: I do not de­sire you should take my word; ask all your Domesticks, and they will tell you whether I went into the Garden the Night before Monsieur de Nemours came to Colonniers; and whether the Night before, that I went not out of the Garden two hours sooner than ordinary:’ She told him, she thought [Page 229] she had seen one in the Garden, and confest she believ'd it was Monsieur de Nemours. She spoke with that confidence, and truth, though improbable, is naturally so perswa­sive, that Monsieur de Cleve was almost con­vinc'd of her Innocence: ‘I cannot tell, says he, whether I ought to believe you; but I find my self so near death, I would not know any thing should make me unwilling to die; you have convinc'd me too late, yet it will ever be a comfort to me, to go away with the thought of your being still worthy the Esteem I have had for you: Let me intreat you I may be assur'd of this fur­ther comfort, that my Memory shall be dear to you; and that if it had been in your power, you would have had for me the kindness you have for another.’ He would have gone on, but was so weak, his speech fail'd him. Madam de Cleve call'd in the Phy­sicians, who found him at the point of death; yet he languish'd some days, and dy'd at last with admirable Constancy.

Madam de Cleve was so afflicted, she was almost beside her self. The Queen came to see her, and took her into a Covent, yet she was not sensible of it: her Sisters-in-Law brought her back to Paris, when she was not yet in a condition to give an account of her grief: But when she began to have the power [Page 230] to consider what a Husband she had lost, that she had been the cause of his death, and by a passion she had had for another, the horrour she had for her self, and for Monsieur de Ne­mours, surpasses expression.

Monsieur de Nemours at first durst pay her no other Respects but what decency requir'd: He knew her too well to think any other would be acceptable, and found afterwards he must observe the same Conduct a very long time.

A Servant of his told him, that Monsieur de Cleve's Gentleman, being his intimate Friend, and lamenting to him the loss of his Master, said to him, that Monsieur de Ne­mour's Journey to Colonniers had caus'd his death. Monsieur de Nemours was extermely surpriz'd at the discourse; yet after some re­flection, he could guess partly at the truth of it, and judg'd presently what Madam de Cleve would think of him, and what a distance it would occasion between them, if she once believ'd her Husbands distemper proceeded from his jealousie of him: He thought it not best to put her in mind so quickly of his Name, and stuck to that resolution, though it went against the heart of him.

He took a journey to Paris, and could not forbear calling at her Gate to ask how she did: He was told she admitted no Visit, and [Page 231] had commanded they should not trouble her with an account of any that came to see her; an Order given perhaps on purpose to prvent her hearing of Monsieur de Ne­mours: but he was too deeply in love to live absolutely depriv'd of the sight of her, and resolv'd to find means, how difficult soever, to get out of a condition he thought so in­tolerable.

Madam de Cleve afflicted her self beyond Reason; the Death of her Husband, and caus'd by her, a Huband dying with such tenderness for her, still ran in her mind, she could not forbear reflecting every moment on the duty she ought him, and condemning her self she had not had the affection for him he deserv'd, as if it had depended on her power: All the comfort she had, was to know she lamented the loss of him as his Me­rit requir'd, and was resolv'd the rest of her life to do nothing but what, had he liv'd, he would have been certainly pleas'd with.

She had often been thinking how he came to know Monsieur de Nemours had been at Colonniers: She could not suspect he had told him; yet if he had, she valued it little, she thought her self so perfectly cur'd of the pas­sion she had had for him: but she was griev'd at the heart to think him the cause of her Husbands Death, and was troubled at the [Page 232] thought of the fear Monsieur de Cleve had exprest at his Death she would marry him: But these griefs were drown'd all together in that of the loss of her Husband, which was so great, she seem'd to have no other.

After several Months the violence of her affliction began to abate, and she fell into a state of sadness and melancholly, being seiz'd with a pining and languishing grief: Madam de Martigues made a journey to Paris, and during her stay there visited her often; she entertain'd her with discourse of the Court, and the passages there; and though Madam de Cleve appear'd unconcern'd, yet Madam de Martigues continued that dis­course, in hopes to divert her.

She told her news of the Vidame, of Mon­sieur de Guise, and all others any way remark­able for their Persons or Merit. As for Mon­sieur de Nemours, says she, I cannot tell whe­ther business hath not dispossest his heart of the Gallantry he was so much addicted to: sure I am he is not gay and jovial as he us'd to be, and he seems not to affect the compa­ny of Ladies; he goes often to Paris, and I believe is there now. Madam de Cleve was so surpriz'd at the name of Nemours, that she blush'd: But she chang'd the discourse, and Madam de Martigues perceiv'd not the con­cern she was in.

[Page 233]The morrow Madam de Cleve being in search of business suitable to her condition, went to a Neighbours house, who was fa­mous for having a particular Excellency in weaving of Silks, and she design'd to have some done to her fancy. Having seen several pieces of his work, she spy'd a Chamber-door where she thought there were more Silks, and spoke to them to open it: The Master an­swer'd he had not the Key, and that the Chamber was taken by a man who came at certain hours of the day to take the Prospect and Plat-form of the fair houses and Gardens to be seen from his Windows. He is, adds he, the handsomest man I ever saw, and looks not like one that works for his living; when ever he comes, I observe he looks still to­wards the houses and Gardens, but I can ne­ver see him work.

Madam de Cleve heard this discourse very attentively; what Madam de Martigues had told her (that Monsieur de Nemours was now and then at Paris) she apply'd in her fancy to that handsom man coming so near her Lodg­ing, and grew up into an Idea of Monsieur de Nemours, labouring for a sight of her, which gave her a confus'd trouble which she knew not the cause of: she went towards the Win­dows to see where they look'd, and found they fac'd the Garden, and her Apartment. [Page 234] When she went to her Chamber, she could easily see the Window where she was told that man used to stand in for taking his Pro­spect. The thought that it was Monsieur de Nemours produc'd a great alteration in her: she presently lost that melancholly repose she had begun to enjoy, and fell into great dis­quiet, and disturbance of spirit: Not able to stay at home, she went to take the air in a Garden in the Suburbs, where she hop'd to be alone: At her arrival she thought she was not deceiv'd, and walk'd a pretty while with­out seeing the appearance of any one.

Having cross'd a little Wilderness, she perceiv'd at the end of a Walk, in the further part of the Garden, a kind of Bower open on all sides, and made towards it. When she came near, she saw a man laid on the Bank who seem'd sunk into deep meditation, and upon stricter view appear'd to be Monsieur de Nemours: she stopt immediately, but her people who waited on her made some noise, which rouz'd Monsieur de Nemours out of the study he was in. He to avoid the Com­pany he thought was coming towards him, started out of his place, without so much as looking about who had made the noise, and turn'd away into an Alley, having made a low Reverence, which hinder'd him to see those he saluted.

[Page 235]Had he known whom he avoided, how quickly would he have return'd? But he went on along the Alley, and Madam de Cleve saw him go out at a back-door, where his Coach waited for him. What an effect pro­duc'd this sight in the heart of Madam de Cleve? What passions did it raise there? what a flame did it kindle out of the Embers of love? and with what violence it burnt? She went and sat her down in the place Mon­sieur de Nemours was newly risen from; her fancy immediately represented him the most amiable Person in the World, and one who had long lov'd her with a passion full of re­spect and fidelity, slighting all for her, respect­ful even to his torment, labouring to see her without a thought of being seen by her, quitting the Court (whose Darling he was) to come and look on the Walls where she had inclos'd her self, and spend his melan­cholly hours in places where he had no hopes to meet her. In a word, a man who deserv'd love for the manner of his Engagement, and for whom she had an inclination so violent, she could not have chosen but have lov'd him, though he had not lov'd her; besides, a man of high Quality, and suitable to hers: All the obstacles from Duty or Vertue were now remov'd; and of their former Estate, there remain'd now only the passion Monsieur [Page 236] de Nemours had for her, and the passion she had for Monsieur de Nemours.

These Idea's were all new (her affliction for the death of Monsieur de Cleve having so ta­ken her up, that she had not of a long time entertain'd a thought of Monsieur de Ne­mours, but) at the sight of him they croud­ed into her head and her heart.

But having taken her fill of these thoughts, when she remembred that the man she look'd upon as a fit Husband for her, was the same she had lov'd in her late Husbands life, and had been the cause of his death, who as he was dying exprest a fear she would marry him, it so shock'd the severity of her Vertue, she thought it equally criminal to marry Monsieur de Nemours, now her Husband was dead, as it was to love him while he lived. She yielded her self up to these Reflections so pernicious to her happiness, and fortified them with many Reasons that concern'd her repose, and the inconveniences she foresaw would attend her Marriage with Monsieur de Nemours. At last, after two hours stay in the place where she was, she return'd home, under a perswasion she was to avoid the sight of him, as a thing absolutely contrary to her duty.

Yet this perswasion being a pure effect of her Reason and Vertue, master'd not her af­fection: [Page 237] Her heart was still for Monsieur de Nemours, inclining to him with that vio­lence, it brought her into a condition to be pitied, having quite robb'd her of her re­pose; never had she Nights more restless and tormenting. In the morning, the first step she made, was to see if any one were at the Window that look'd towards her Apart­ment: she went, she saw Monsieur de Ne­mours, and return'd with that haste, he had reason to judge she knew him. He had long wish'd she might take notice of his being there, since his passion had put him upon finding that way of seeing her; and when he was out of hopes of that pleasure, his course was to go muse in the Garden where she found him.

Tir'd at last with a condition so unhappy and uncertain, he resolv'd to try some way of knowing his Fortune: ‘What would I stay for, said he, I have known long enough she loves me; she is at liberty, and hath now no Duty to plead against me: why should I be reduc'd to see her, without be­ing seen by her, and speaking to her? Is it possible Love should so absolutely take away my Reason, and my Courage, and make me differ so much from what I have been in my other Amours? 'Twas fit I should have ex­prest a respect for the grief she was under, [Page 238] but I express it too long, and give her time to Master the Inclination she had for me.’

After these Reflections, he thought of the means of seeing her; he thought he had no reason to conceal his passion any longer from the Vidame of Chartres, he resolv'd to tell him of it, and the design he had for his Neece.

The Vidame was then at Paris, the Town being very full of company who came to fit their Equipage to attend the King, who was going to conduct the Queen of Spain. Mon­sieur de Nemours went to the Vidame's, and made an Ingenous Confession of what he had till then conceal'd from him, except only Madam de Cleve's inclinations for him, which he would not own he knew.

The Vidame receiv'd all he said with a great deal of joy, and assur'd him, that be­fore he knew his mind, he had often thought (since Madam de Cleve had been a Widdow) she was the only Lady worthy of him. Mon­sieur de Nemours pray'd him to help him to the speech of her, and let him know the same time how he found her dispos'd.

The Vidame propos'd to bring him to her house; Monsieur de Nemours thought it might offend her, who had not yet admitted any Visit. They agreed the Vidame should pray her to come to his house, on some pre­tence [Page 239] or other, and that Monsieur de Ne­mours should come to them by a Back-stair, that no notice might be taken of it. Madam de Cleve came, the Vidame went to receive her, and led her into a great Closet at the end of his Apartment: A while after Monsieur de Nemours came in, as by chance: Madam de Cleve was extremely surpriz'd to see him; she blush'd, and endeavour'd to hide it. The Vidame spoke of other matters, and went out as if he had been to give order about some­thing. He pray'd Madam de Cleve to use no Ceremony at his house, and told her, he would return presently.

It is impossible to express the Sentiments of Monsieur de Nemours, and Madam de Cleve, seeing themselves alone, and in a con­dition to speak to one another, as they had never been before. Both continued silent a while: At length, Will you pardon the Vi­dame, Madam, says Monsieur de Nemours, that he hath given me an opportunity of speak­ing to you, which you have always so cruelly de­ny'd me? I ought not to pardon him, replied she, for having forgot the condition I am in, and how much he exposes my Reputation by this proceeding. Having said so, she would have gone away; Monsieur de Nemours staid her, and said, Fear nothing, Madam, there's no dan­ger at all, no Body living but the Vidame knows [Page 240] I am here. But hear me, Madam, hear, if not out of any kindness you have for me, yet for your own sake, that you may be rid of the extravagancies I shall infallibly run into, through a passion I can no longer master.

Madam de Cleve yielded for once to the in­clination she had for Monsieur de Nemours, and looking on him with eyes full of kindness and Charms: ‘But what is't you hope for, says she, from the Complaisance you desire of me? you will perhaps repent you have ob­tain'd it, and I shall certainly repent I have granted it: You deserve better fortune than you have hitherto had, or can have for the future, unless you seek it elsewhere. I seek it elsewhere, Madam, says he, is there any other happiness to be found but in your love? Though I never spoke of it before, Madam, yet I could not believe you igno­rant of my passion, nor imagine but you knew it the truest and the most violent that ever was, or will be: what tryals hath it been proof against, that you know not of? what tryals have you put it to by your ri­gour?’

‘You are minded to hear me speak, and I am resolv'd to do it, answers Madam de Cleve, and with that sincerity and clearness you shall rarely meet with in those of my Sex; I will not tell you I have not had that [Page 241] inclination for you, you have had for me; perhaps, should I say it, you would not be­lieve it: I will confess to you, I have not on­ly been sensible of yours for me, but as sen­sible of it as you could wish: And were you sensible of it, Madam, yet not affected with it at all? May I presume to ask, whe­ther it made not some impression upon you? You may judge of that by my Conduct, says she, but I would know what you thought of it? I must be in a happier con­dition than I am, says he, before I dare answer you; all I can tell you is, I heartily wish'd you had not confest to Monsieur de Cleve what you hid from me, and that you would have conceal'd from him, what you made ap­pear to me: How came you to know, re­plies she blushing, that I confest any thing to Monsieur de Cleve? I knew it from your self, Madam, says he: but that you may par­don my boldness in listening to your dis­course: I appeal to your memory, whether I made ill use of what I heard, whether my hopes were rais'd by it in the least, or whe­ther I had any greater boldness to speak to you.’

He began to give her an account how he heard he discourse with Monsieur de Cleve, but she interrupted him, saying, ‘No more of that, I see how you came to be so well in­form'd: [Page 242] I thought you knew it too well, when the Queen-Dauphin told me the ad­venture which she had learnt from those you had made acquainted with it.’

Monsieur de Nemours gave her a particu­lar relation of it: ‘You may spare your Ex­cuses, says she, you have my pardon long since, though you gave me no reason for it: but since I have told you what I design'd to conceal from you while I liv'd, I will con­fess to you, you have inspir'd me with Sen­timents I was altogether a stranger to till I saw you; and so far from imagining my self capable of them, that the surprize height­ned the trouble that always attends them. I am the less asham'd to make you this con­fession, because it is made at a time I can do it without Crime, and that you have ob­serv'd my Conduct was contrary to my af­fection.’

‘Can you believe, Madam, says he, throw­ing himself at her feet, but I shall die here in a transport of joy? I have told you no­thing, says she smiling, but what you knew too well before: Ah Madam, what a diffe­rence there is between learning it by chance, and knowing it from your self, and seeing withall you are willing I should know it: 'Tis true, replies she, I am willing you should know it, and I find pleasure in [Page 243] telling it you; yet I cannot tell but I may tell it you more for my own sake, than yours; for when all is done, you are not to expect any effect suitable to the confession I have made: I am resolv'd to follow the se­verest Rules my duty prescribes: You are at liberty, Madam, says he, and under no obligation of duty, or if under any (if I may be allow'd to say so) 'tis in your power to make it your duty to preserve those Sen­timents you have had for me: My duty, re­plies she, forbids me ever to think of any man, but particularly of you, for reasons unknown to you: They may be unknown to me, Madam, says he, but they cannot be good; I believe Monsieur de Cleve thought me more happy than I was, and that you had approv'd those extravagancies my pas­sion put me upon without your consent: Let us talk no more of that Adventure, an­swers she, I cannot endure the thoughts of it, I am asham'd of it; and the consequen­ces have been so fatal, it grieves me at the heart: 'tis but too true you were the cause of Monsieur de Cleve's death; the suspitions your inconsiderate Conduct rais'd in him, cost him his life, no less than if you had ta­ken it from him with your own hands: Consider what I ought to have done, had you two come to the extremity of a Duel, [Page 244] and he had been kill'd;'tis not the same thing in the eye of the World, but in mine there's no difference, since I know 'tis you have been the cause of his death, and on my account: Ah Madam, says he, what a shadow of duty do you raise against my hap­piness? shall a vain and groundless fancy hinder you to render a man happy, whom you have no unkindness for? what, have I had some ground to hope I might pass my life with you? hath my fate led me to love the most Estimable Person in the World? have I observ'd in her all that can make a Mi­stress adorable? has she had no unkindness for me? have I found in her Conduct no­thing but what I would desire in my Wife? (for, Madam, you are perhaps the sole per­son in whom these two things have con­curr'd, to the degree they are in you; they that marry Mistresses who have lov'd them, cannot but fear they may use the like Con­duct towards others they have done to­wards them; but in you, Madam, I can fear nothing, I see nothing in you but mat­ter of admiration) have I had a prospect of so much felicity for no other end, but to see it obstructed by you? Ah Madam, you for­get you have distinguish'd me from the rest of men, or rather you have not distinguish'd me, you have deceiv'd your self, I have flat­ter'd my self.’

[Page 245] ‘You have not flatter'd your self, says she, the Reasons of my duty would perhaps not appear so strong to me, had I not made that distinction of which you seem to doubt; and 'tis it gives me a Prospect of the unfor­tunate Consequences of a nearer Engage­ment with you. I have nothing to answer, Madam, replies he, when you tell me you are afraid of unfortunate Consequences; but I confess, after all you have been pleas'd to say to me, I did not expect from you so cruel a Reason. It is so far from being in­tended any way offensive to you, answers she, I had much a do to tell it you. Alas, Madam, says he, how can you imagine me so vain, to flatter my self with any thing you shall say to me, having heard what you have already told me. I will speak to you again, answer she, with the same sincerity as before, and without those Reserves and Niceties I ought to have in my first dis­course to you of this kind; but I conjure you hear me without interruption.’

‘I think my self oblig'd to give the affe­ction you have for me the poor recompence of letting you see what my Sentiments are: This probably will be the only time of my life I shall do it in; yet I cannot without blushing confess to you, that the certainty of being no more lov'd by you, as I am, ap­pears [Page 246] to me so dreadful a misfortune, that had I not invincible Reasons, grounded on my duty, I doubt very much whether it would be in my power to expose my self to that unhappiness. I know you are free, and that I am so, and that the condition of things is such, that the Publick perhaps should have no cause to blame you or me, should we be ingag'd to one another for e­ver. But are men us'd to continue their af­fection during those long Engagements? or am I to expect a Miracle in my favour! And shall I put my self in a condition to see that passion at an end, in which I place all my felicity? Monsieur de Cleve was perhaps the only man in the World capable to pre­serve and maintain a passion for his Wife; it was my ill fate I was not able to reap the advantage of that happiness; and perhaps his passion had not lasted, but that he found I had none, but I should not have the same means to preserve yours: I believe you owe your constancy to the obstacles you have met with; you saw enough to ingage you to encounter and overcome them, and my actions against my will, or what you learnt by chance, gave you too great hopes to be discourag'd.’

‘Ah Madam, says Monsieur de Nemours, I am not able to keep the silence you com­mande [Page 247] me; you do me too much inju­stice, and make it appear too clearly, you are far from being prepossest in my favour: I confess, says she, my passions may lead me, but they cannot blind me; nothing can hinder me to know you have a natural di­sposition to Gallantry, and all the qualities requisite to give you success; you have al­ready been in love with several, and you will be so again: I should be no longer she you plac'd your happiness in, I should see you as much for another as you had been for me: this would mortally grieve me, and I am not sure I could save my self from the torment of Jealousie: I have said already too much to conceal from you, that you have made me know what Jealousie is, and that it tormented me so cruelly the night the Queen gave me Madam de The­mines Letter, which it was said was addrest to you, that I have to this moment an Idea of it, makes me believe it the greatest of evils: There's not a woman, but out of vanity or inclination hath a mind to ingage you; there are very few but you please; my experience would make me believe there is not any but it is in your power to please: I should think you always in love, and belov'd, and I should not be often mi­staken; yet in this case, what remedy for [Page 248] me but patience? I question much whe­ther I should dare complain: a Lover may be reproach'd, but shall a Husband be so, for no other cause but that he loves one no longer? Could I use my self to bear a mis­fortune of this nature, should it ever be in my power to bear that of imagining I saw Monsieur de Cleve every hour accuse you of his death, and reproach me I had lov'd you, I had marry'd you, and make me sensible of the difference between his kindness and yours? 'Tis impossible for me to overcome the strength of these Reasons; I must con­tinue in the condition I am in, and the reso­lution I have taken never to alter it.’

‘Ha, do you think you can do it, Madam, cryes Monsieur de Nemours, do you believe you can hold that resolution against a man that adores you, and hath the happiness to please you? 'Tis more difficult than you think, Madam, to resist that which pleases and loves us; you have done it by an un­parallell'd severity of vertue, but that ver­tue no longer opposes your affections, and I hope you will follow your inclination, though against your will: I know, says she, there's nothing more difficult than what I undertake, I mistrust my own strength in the midst of my Reasons; the duty I owe the memory of Monsieur de Cleve would be [Page 249] too weak, if not supported by Reasons drawn from the concern of my repose, and the interest of my repose hath need of sup­port from Reasons grounded on my duty to his memory: yet though I distrust my self, I believe I shall never overcome my scru­ples, nor have I any hopes to overcome the inclination I have for you; it will make me unhappy, and I must deny my self the sight of you, how hard soever I strain for't. I conjure you by all the power I have over you, never more seek an occasion to see me: I am in a condition makes that Crimi­nal, which were allowable another time; Decency forbids me all Commerce with you.’ Monsieur de Nemours threw himself at her feet, and by his words, and his tears, exprest the tenderest and liveliest passion that ever heart was affected with: Madam de Cleve was not insensible, and with eyes swell'd with tears, why must it be, cries she, that I should charge you with the death of Monsieur de Cleve? why did not my first acquaintance with you begin since I have been at liberty, or why did I not know you before I was ingag'd? why did Fate separate us by such invincible obstacles? There is no obstacle at all, Madam, replies he, you, and you only obstruct all my happiness; you impose upon your self a Law which neither Vertue nor Reason require you [Page 250] to do: 'Tis true, says she, I sacrifice much to a duty which subsists only in my imaginati­on; have patience, and expect what time may produce; Monsieur de Cleve is but newly dead; the sad Object is so near, and so fresh, it cannot as yet but dazle my eye-sight, I see not things clearly and distinctly as before; the mean time enjoy the pleasure to know you have gain'd the Heart of a Person, who would never have lov'd any man had she not seen you: Be­lieve the Sentiments I have for you will last for ever, and whatever becomes of me, they will still be the same. Farewel, says she, I am asham'd of this discourse; I am willing you should give the Vidame an account of it, and I pray you to do it.

It was not in his power to stay her any longer: As she was going out, she found the Vidame in the next Room; he saw her so troubled he durst not speak to her, and led her into her Coach without saying a word to her. He came back to Monsieur de Ne­mours, who was so full of Joy, of Grief, of Astonishment, of Admiration, of all those affections that attend a passion full of hope, and of fear, that he had not the use of his Reason. It was a long time e're the Vidame could get from him an account of their dis­course: He had it at last, and (setting Love a­side) Monsieur de Chartres no less admir'd the [Page 251] Vertue, the Wit, and Merit of Madam de Cleve, than Monsieur de Nemours did: They consider'd what he was reasonably to hope for; and as fearful as his Love made him, he agreed with the Vidame it was impossible she should hold long in that resolution; yet they thought it necessary to obey her Orders, lest if the Publick should take notice of his inclination for her, and she should declare her self, and enter into Engagements before the World, which she would afterwards stick to for fear it should be thought she lov'd him in her Husbands life-time.

Monsieur de Nemours resolv'd to follow the King, without so much as endeavouring to have sight of Madam de Cleve, from the u­sual place, before he went. He pray'd the Vidame to speak to her in his favour: What an infinite number of Reasons did he furnish him with to perswade her against her scru­ples? The Vidame thought he would never make an end, having made it late in the night before he ended his discourse.

As for Madam de Cleve, it was a matter so new to her, to have been out of the restraint she had impos'd on her self, to have endur'd the first Declaration of Love ever made to her, and to have declar'd her self to be in Love, that she scarce knew her self: she was [Page 252] amaz'd at what she had done, she repented it, she was glad of it, all her thoughts were full of trouble and passion: she examin'd a­gain the Reasons of her duty which obstruct­ed her happiness; she was sorry to find them so strong, and repented she had made them out so clear to Monsieur de Nemours, though the first moment she saw him in the Garden she presently had a thought of marrying him; but that thought had not made such impres­sion, as the discourse had since with him; and sometimes she could not comprehend how she could be unhappy in marrying him: She could have wisht with all her heart she had had no grounds for her past scruples, nor future: At other times, Reason and her Du­ty shewed her so many things to the contra­ry, that carried her violently into a resolu­tion not to marry again, nor ever to see Mon­sieur de Nemours; yet this was a resolution hard to be establish'd in a Heart so mov'd as hers, and so newly abandon'd to the Charms of Love. At last, to be at some ease, she thought it was not yet necessary to force her self to take these violent resolutions: She had in decency a long time to consider of it; yet she was fully resolv'd to hold no further Cor­respondence with Monsieur de Nemours. The Vidame came to see her, and serv'd Monsieur [Page 253] de Nemours with all the wit and industry imaginable; but he could not perswade her to alter her Conduct, nor to revoke her ri­gorous Orders to Monsieur de Nemours not to see her. She told the Vidame her design was not to alter her condition; that she knew she should meet with some difficulty in put­ting it in Execution, but hop'd she should be able to do it. She made him so sensible how much she was concern'd at the opinion of Monsieur de Nemours having caus'd the death of her Husband, and how fully she was con­vinc'd it was against her duty to marry him, that the Vidame was afraid it would be very difficult to take away those impressions. He did not acquaint Monsieur de Nemours with his Apprehensions, but gave him an account of their discourse, and all the hopes a man who is belov'd can reasonably have. They went away on the morrow to meet the King. The Vidame writ to Madam de Cleve, at the request of Monsieur de Nemours, to speak in his behalf: in a second Letter from the Vi­dame to her, Monsieur de Nemours writ a line or two with his own hand; but Madam de Cleve resolv'd to observe strictly the Rules she had prescrib'd her self, and fearing the ac­cidents Letters are subject to, writ to the Vi­dame she would not receive any more Letters [Page 254] from him, if he continued to mention Mon­sieur de Nemours; and added such Assevera­tions, that Monsieur de Nemours made it his request to the Vidame, not to name him any more.

The Court went to conduct the Queen of Spain as far as Poitou; Madam de Cleve conti­nued at home: the more distant she was from Monsieur de Nemours, and every thing that might put her in mind of him, the more she remembred Monsieur de Cleve, whose memory she made it her business to honour. The Reasons for her not marrying Monsieur de Nemours, appear'd very strong on the ac­count of her Duty, but altogether invinci­ble, when she consulted her Repose: The O­pinion she had, Marriage would put an end to his Love, and the torments of Jealousie be the infallible Consequent, gave her the pro­spect of inevitable unhappiness if she con­sented to his desires: On the other side, she thought it impossible to refuse (if he were present) the most amiable Man in the World, who lov'd her, and whom she lov'd, and to refuse him in a thing that shock'd neither Vertue nor Honour; she thought nothing but absence and distance could give her the power to do it; she found she stood in need of it, not only to maintain her resolution to [Page 255] be no further ingag'd, but to keep her from seeing Monsieur de Nemours: she resolv'd to take a long Journey to pass away the time she was oblig'd in decency to live retir'd: the large Possessions in Lands she had towards the Pyrenees, she thought the most proper place she could pick out. She set out a few days before the Court return'd, and writ at parting to the Vidame, to conjure him not to think of once enquiring after her, nor wri­ting to her.

Monsieur de Nemours was more troubled at this Journey, than another would have been at the death of his Mistress: the thought of being depriv'd a long time of the sight of Madam de Cleve griev'd him extremely, and the more in that it happen'd when he had lately enjoy'd the pleasure of seeing her, and seeing her affected with his passion; his affli­ction increas'd daily. Madam de Cleve was no sooner arriv'd at her house near the Py­renees, but she fell desperately ill. The news was brought to Court: Monsieur de Ne­mours was inconsolable, his grief proceeded to despair and extravagance: The Vidame had much ado to make him forbear shew­ing his passion in publick, and was scarce able to keep him from going in Person to enquire how she did. The kindness and [Page 256] near Relation between her and the Vidame, was a very good pretence to send several Courriers to her. At last they brought cer­tain news she was out of that extremity of danger she had been in, but had still a lan­guishing malady that took away the hopes of life.

This gave her a sight of Death, both near and at distance, and represented to her the things of this World quite otherwise than they appear to those in health. The neces­sity of dying she saw her self so near to, wean'd her from the World; and her mala­dy was so lingring, it accustom'd her to it, and made it habitual; yet when she was a little recover'd, she found Monsieur de Ne­mours was not quite defac'd out of her heart; but to defend her self against him, she call'd to her aid all the Reasons she thought she had against marrying again. After long con­flict, she subdued the relicks of that passion, which had been weakned by the Sentiments she had in her sickness; the thoughts of death having reproach'd her with the memory of Monsieur de Cleve, and being agreeable to her duty, made deep impression in her heart. She saw clearly the vanity of the passions and Engagements of the World, her weak­ness of Body contributed much to her Con­stancy; [Page 257] yet being sensible what power op­portunity hath over the sagest resolutions, she was unwilling to hazard the breach of those she had taken, by returning into any place where she might see him she lov'd. Under pretence of changing the Air she retir'd into a Religious House, without declaring a setled resolution of quitting the Court.

At the first news of it, Monsieur de Ne­mours felt the weight of her retreat, and saw the importance of it. He believed presently his hopes were at end, but omitted not any thing that might obliege her to return to Court: He prevail'd with the Queen to write; he made the Vidame not only write but go to her, but all to no purpose: the Vidame saw her, but she told him she had settled her resolution. Yet he was of opinion she would not return to Court. At last Monsieur de Nemours went himself to her, under pretence of going to the Waters; she was extremely surpriz'd and troubled at the news of his co­ming, she sent him word by a person of me­rit, whom she lov'd, that she desir'd him not to take it ill if she did not expose her self to the danger of seeing him, & destroying by his presence those sentiments she was in duty obliged to preserve: that she desir'd he [Page 258] should know she found it both against her duty and repose, to yield to the inclination she had to be his, and that therefore all things else in the world were become so indifferent to her, she had renounc'd them for ever, and taken her leave of the world; that her thoughts were wholly imploy'd about the things of another life; but as to this, she de­sir'd nothing else, but to see him so dispos'd as she was.

Monsieur de Nemours was like to have dy'd in the presence of her who brought him the news: Madam de Cleves had not only absolutely forbidden her to carry any mes­sage from him, but to give her account of their discourse upon her delivering him the message from Madam de Cleve: thus was Monsieur de Nemours forc'd to part opprest with the heaviest grief a man is capable of, who hath lost all hopes of ever seeing again a person he lov'd, not only with the most violent, but the most natural and best grounded passion that ever was. Yet he was not so discourag'd, but he us'd all means imaginable to induce her to alter her de­sign: At last after several years, time and absence abated his grief and extinguish'd his flame: Madam de Cleve liv'd a life that took [Page 259] away all appearance she would ever return to Court: One part of the year she spent in the Religious House, and the other part at her own, but retyr'd, and imploy'd constant­ly in Exercises more holy than the severest Covents can pretend to: Her life, though short, having left us a multitude of examples of inimitable Vertues.