THE MEMOIRS OF THE Countess of Dunois; Author of the Lady's Travels into Spain. Written by herself before her Retirement. By way of ANSWER to Monsieur St. EUREMONT. Containing withal A Modest Vindication of the Female Sex, more frequently injured by Imprudence and Misconstruction, than Defect of Virtue.  
Made English from the Original.  
LONDON: Printed for Tho. Cockerill in Amen-Corner. 1699.   

To the Honourable Propham Conoway, Esq.  
SIR,  
THE Countess of Du●●●● so famous for Her Travels into Spain, and a no less Celebrated Court Star of France, has now taken a Passport from the General Peace, to make her Tou'r in England. This is She, whose Noble gallic Veins are not only enriched with all the outward Charms of an Extraordinary Beauty, but She is Mistress also of such Admirable Wit and Gallantry, that the Rich Gem within is no way undeserving the Fair and Noble Casket that contains it.  
'Tis very probable therefore, that all these Advantages have set Her to that height of Universal Admiration, that Detraction and Envy, (the common Repiners at Perfection and Excellence) have not been a little industrious to shade and tarnish so dazzling a Brightness: But all their weak Assaults against Her Unshaken Honour, have rather augmented Her Worth and Reputation, and fixed Her Name Immortal as Her Innocence, whilst both France and Spain sat Judges in Her Cause; and weighing it in the Noblest Balance, have Enshrined Her Righted Virtue with a Sacred Comment in some of the most impartial and Indelible Records of Europe.  
This Fair Stranger, Sir, who at present has given me the Honour of officiating for Her Interpreter, most humbly by me, begs Your Protecting Goodness to hand Her into the Court of England.  
And now, Sir, if I may be permitted to give This every way Deserving Lady some little knowledge of the Merits of Her English Patron, I must do ye Both this Justice, to assure Her, that She is in the hands of Honour, and lodged in very Hospitable Walls.  
She'll find You, Sir, a Person so Excellently Accomplished, so Truly Furnished with all those Merits and Endowments, that Wit and Learning, and every Other the Noblest Faculty of a Generous Mind, and a great Soul, can possibly infuse; and such the Handmaid of the Almighty, Great Nature, did allow You, making Them Your Hereditary Glories, Virtues no less than even born with You, whilst You derive Your immediate Veins from an Apollinary Original, a Father that shined so mmany Successive Glorious Years, the Chosen Darling Oracle of our AUGUST, and FAMOUS ALBION SENATE.  
With all these Powerful Charms, and such Infinite Deserts, and, Sir, with all the Smiles of Heaven to Crown 'em, You have been singled out for that Peculiar Favourite of Providence, that even Contending Families have Rivalled for You, whilst to invite You to new loads of Honour, You have Assumed the Name of CONOWAY, to make Your Adopted Laurels as Rich as Your Native Ones.  
But now, as much as my own Ambition has Aspired to make You this Public Address, I have yet a more Attracting Influence that draws me to Your Feet; which is to let the World know, how much I stand indebted already to Your Generosity for those repeated Showers of ever-smiling Goodness You have been pleased to pour upon me; and that all the Returns that my Poor Pen in this small Present can make You, is but a Thanksgiving-Offring, the Pure Obligation of Duty and Gratitude from,  
SIR, Your most Obliged, most Devoted, and ever Humble Servant, J. H.   

in their Miscarriages, then want of Virtue. The Memoirs of my Life will make it Evident, that 'tis not always safe to judge by outward Appearances; and that a little Beauty, more of Youth, and Deficiency of Judgement, are frequently more injurious to their Reputation then the Crime itself.   

THE MEMOIRS OF Madam, the Countess of— Before her Retirement.  

Book the First.  
'TIS not to justify myself, that I undertake to write the Memoirs of my Life. For 'tis a long time since that God has given me the grace to look upon the Injurious Reports that have been spread abroad concerning me in the World, as a punishment of my vanity. And for that reason I submit myself to the conduct of his Providence: Happy in this, that I am sensible of my own Innocence as to every thing that Calumny has laid to my Charge; but on the other side, unfortunate to have lost the merit of my Innocence by the Scandals to which I have been too guilty of giving the occasion.  
I thought it might be permitted me to write my own History, were it but to justify by my Example such Persons of my Sex as have of late been made the Objects of common Reproach. 'Tis well known to what degree Reproaches are improved in that respect; seeing that nowadays we meet with so many People so adventurous to maintain, That there is hardly an honest Woman in the Town. 'Tis true, the malignity of Men is not the only reason of the little justice which they do us, seeing there are Women, who may be thought to have taken delight in confirming the ill opinion which men have of us: And indeed, there are none who have done more injustice to their Sex, than they who have written the Memoirs of their Amours, and dispersed into the World Letters for which their Passion and Debauchery found Materials. From their Examples men have condemned all those whom they suspected of having any Amorous Intrigues; and when a Woman has once got the Reputation of a Coquette, she is presently adjudged to be one of those that make it their glory to be so.  
I therefore thought it might be one means to destroy this growing Opinion, by a faithful recital of the Adventures of my Life, to show, that a Woman may be defamed, yet not be guilty; and that there is many times more of Misfortune than Irregularity in the Conduct of several Women, upon whom the Public is pleased to throw their Scandals. There is also another benefit to be reaped from these Memoirs: For from thence you will learn to avoid all such Misfortunes as are looked upon as Crimes; and to shun those things which may give occasion to fully the Reputation of Women, by observing where I myself became an ill Manager of my own.  
I am well descended as well by the Father's as by the Mother's side; but it was the first of my Misfortunes that I was born too soon; for my Mother was hardly arrived to Sixteen years of Age when she lay in of me. And because that in Ten years after my Mother had no more Children, I was looked upon as Heiress of my Father's Estate. All this while my Mother was too young to let a Daughter grow up with her at home, that would have kept the Hand of her Dyal from standing long at Sixteen. So she sent me to a Grandmother, who had that fond love for me, which Women advanced in years have manytimes for Children by whom they expect the continuation of their Name and Family. She made it her business to infuse into me, upon the score of my Birth and Beauty, all the Vanity and Pride she had been guilty of herself; and the first thing that I learned, was, that I was Fair, and destined to the most noble and elevated Pretensions. With these Fancies I was flattered all along; and I had already attained Eleven years of Age, when my Mother was brought to bed of a Boy. But no sooner was this Son and Heir come into the World, but my Grandmother began to lavish out all her Affection for me, upon him; my Beauty was no longer flattered: No more talk of my being a Princess or a Duchess at least: No— I must stifle all those gaudy Expectations: My Brother had bereaved me of all those great Advantages. On the other side, they began to instill into me Inclinations to a Religious Life; and at length, they told me flat and plain, it was the manner of living, and all the Preferment my Parents had designed me.  
I was already big enough, and had so much Reason about me, as to be deeply sensible how disastrous such a Resolution would be to me: And the very thoughts of it infused into me as great an aversion for my nearest Relations, as before I had respect and complacency for 'em. My Father was the only Person for whom I still preserved some little affection; for he still seemed to have something of kindness for me. So that whenever they talked of putting me into a Nunnery, I always had recourse to him, and to him made known my Reluctancy and Despair. Which I so well expressed in words accompanied with tears, that my Father himself could not refrain from weeping. But he, good man, wore not the Breeches: And therefore he advised me, for his sake, to suffer for a while the Inconveniencies of a Convent, with a promise that I should not long be under that Confinement, but that he would dispose of me so soon as I was ripe for Marriage.  
Upon this I obeyed, and I was put into a Nunnery, where the Abbess was my Father's Cousin German; and in her I met again with as much fondness as formerly my Grandmother had for me. Which together with the hopes that my Father had given me, was no small consolation to me.  
Now in regard I had all the liberty I could desire in the Nunnery, I had so accustomed myself to do what I pleased, that no body durst contradict me: And being thus flattered and caressed, it was no wonder if I gave a second harbour to all that vanity which my Grandmother had infused into me. The Praises also which the Nuns continually gave me, daily swelled this Vanity: And by that means I came to understand, that Convents, where young People are allowed the liberty I had, are no better Schools for Children, than the Houses of Fondling Parents that idolise their own Issue. The more I was persuaded that all Nuns were Saints, the more I soothed myself that I deserved their Praises; and the more vainly I flattered myself, that there was nothing in me to be amended, seeing those very Persons who were entrusted with the care of my Conduct, applauded every thing I did, and every thing which I desired to do.  
In this manner I was bred up, with little instruction in the Duties of my Religion. Not that they omitted to teach me the grounds of it; but in regard I had an excellent Memory, I made it my application to study those grounds, rather to show my wit, then for the sake of information: Nor did I make any difference between the Articles of my Faith, and the Songs and Verses which I got by heart. To me they seemed all alike, and I looked upon it only as an exercise of my Memory, which was put upon me to try whether I had a good one or no. How many times have I lamented afterwards my being so little taught the difference between Solid and Trivial! and my being left to myself to make my choice of which of the two my Fancy best approved. Both Nuns and other Persons, who are entrusted with the Education of Children, are very imprudent to make no distinction between things of so different a nature; but rather to permit the study of Trifles, before the Memory and the Heart are well seasoned with the first impressions of Truth and Virtue.  
The reading of Romances brought me to reflect upon things, of which till then I had but a confused and imperfect apprehension. By reading them, I learned there was a Passion that gave to Women an absolute dominion over Men. And I was not a little overjoyed to think, that I could as well as others pretend to that empire; and that perhaps I had an opportunity already to exercise that Power.  
In short, I called to mind, that when I lived with my Grandmother, there was a Person of Quality who loved me, and who usually called me his little Queen. I recalled to my memory all the marks that he gave me of his Affection: And I made no question but that that Affection was an effect of that same Passion which I found so well expressed in Romances. I was sorry I had been ignorant of it so long; and that I had made no better use of my empire over that Lover. Who is regard he was a Person of Quality, and one that appeared to have more merit than any of the rest with whom I was acquainted, seemed to me most worthy of paying me his Assiduities. I resolved therefore to engage him to give me a Visit, that I might please myself with enjoying the honour of submitting a Man to my own Laws.  
I was too young to have any other motive to this Attempt then vanity: Nor indeed was I acquainted with any other; neither did I believe that Love was any other thing then that same Power and Command wherewith I flattered myself.  
The course which I took to engage the Marquis of Blossac (for that was then his Title) to come to me, was to write to him. To which end, not knowing what I did, I copied out of several Romances, what seemed to me the most endearing, to express that I very much desired to see him. That is to say, I wrote a most passionate and tender Letter, without being sensible of the thing which I expressed, and without divining in the least that there was any harm in writing after that manner. This without doubt is an effect the most innocent that the reading of Romances can produce in the mind of a young Person. But after all, it is a dangerous effect; seeing that by accustoming ourselves to read the Language of Love, we expose ourselves, how harmless soever our Intentions may be, to love the name of it, and to feel the effects and power of it.  
Romances therefore having taught me, that there was a secret and mysterious method to be observed in the delivery of Letters; I bethought myself of putting mine into a small Bundle of Rarities wrought by the Nuns, of which I pretended to make a Present to Blossac upon the Festival Day of the Nunnery's particular Saint. In this manner than I sent him my Letter, with orders to the Bearer to deliver the Bundle into his own hands. Thus had my Passion been never so violent, it could not have taught me to take better measures then my own Vanity inspired into me. For the two Passions of Love and Vanity force Women to act for the most part much after the same manner, as I found by experience in the progress of my life.  
Blossac received my Letter; and had always looked upon me as a Child: But he found that Letter so witty, that his first thoughts advised him to show it to my Parents, to the end they might see what an extraordinary Daughter they had. However, he met with so much Passion, so much tenderness in it, that he believed it impossible that I should write in such a manner, without being in some measure sensible of what I had written to him. And the younger I was, the more he flattered himself with being the first Object of a growing Passion: And whatever in my Letter seemed to him to be above my years, he ascribed to nothing but Love. So that from thence forward he began to love me in earnest, and returned me a most passionate Answer, wherein he promised to come and see me the next day.  
However, I met with something in his Letter that offended me; for he called me his Pretty Child. Now I had never read that the Hero's in Romances gave such Language to their Mistresses; so that I expected him with impatience, that I might have the pleasure to abuse him for it. He came; and because he had not seen me in above a year before, he found me so well grown, though then but in the Twelfth of my Age, that the sight of my Person completed what my Letter had begun. He became my most Passionate Lover; nevertheless, being desirous, before he discovered his Love, to be assured, whether I had reason enough about me to sustain the weight of such a Declaration, he applied himself to me with the same terms of familiarity as formerly, calling me his Little Miss, and his Pretty Sweetheart, and teling me with an Air of Fondness, that I was the most delicate Girl in the World. All these low Titles I took ill; and therefore in the Tone of a Romantic Heroess, I talked to him as Astrea talks to Celadon, when she banishes him her presence. At first he laughed at my Childish Indignation; but seeing me persist in the same Language, he was so much the more at a loss, because he loved me with so much the more tenderness. Thereupon he came to a serious Explanation of himself, and told me after such a manner, as somewhat daunted me, that he was ashamed at his years, to confess himself so weak as to have a Passion for me; however, that he could not forbear to let me know, as much a Child as I was, that his Life and his Repose depended upon me, and that he should die without an Assurance that my heart was his. And he pronounced these words in such a manner, that they pierced my very Soul: And had I had but a little more Experience, I should have understood to have made a distinction between him and others; and that it was no longer that I acted by the same Motive that obliged me to send for him.  
I than forgot all that Romances had taught me concerning the Disdain and Pride of their Heroesses: I fell a weeping; and begging his pardon for having offended him; I assured him of the surrender of my heart, and that I would never say any thing to him again that should excite his Anger. He was overjoyed to find such an alteration in me, and continued his Arguments to persuade me how passionately he loved me, when our Conversation was interrupted by the coming in of the Abbess; for than he fell a cockering me again with tendernesses suitable to my Age, and calling me Pretty Child, advised me to be a good Girl. Nor was it out of Policy that I forbore to show myself displeased with his Discourse, but because I found an inclination in myself to pardon every thing in him but indifferency. I was so much afraid he did not love me, that having found an opportunity before we parted, to ask him whether he were still offended, I obliged him to swear that he would love me as long as he lived.  
Thus it was, that without knowing what it meant, I surrendered myself up to that fatal Passion that since has so much troubled my repose. 'Twas not for any other design that I desired to see Blossac, but only to trample upon his Submission, when I became so much his Slave, that I took delight in nothing else but thinking of him. To such a Precipice had the airy Vanity of Romances insensibly led me.  
I loved, yet knew not what Love was: And I loved so much the more, because I was ignorant what it was to love: Nor would my Ignorance permit me to contend with what I knew not. I saw nothing that frighted me in the kind Sentiments I had for Blossac; nor had I any desire to be afraid of Consequences which I foresaw not. I studied nothing so much as how to please him, and find out ways to see him often. Romances then, that formerly were my chief delight, began to grow irksome to me; I did not like it that their Heroesses should take so much pleasure in treating their Lovers so uncivilly: And I blamed their Pride so much the more, the less I understood that it was a virtue to be proud. Thus whither is it that we may not be transported, when we unwarily deliver up ourselves to a Danger which we understand not, yet for which we have a kindness! When I was alone, I would be writing Letters to Blossac; and though I knew not there was any harm in what I did, yet I was most terribly afraid of being taken in the Act. But it was impossible for me to be so cautious as to preven● it. Some of my Epistles were found, and carried to the Abbess, who blest herself to see Satan so prevalent in a Girl of my years. She sent for me, and asked me where I had learned to write after that manner? I knew not what answer to make her, seeing her, as I thought, in such an angry Mood. And my silence making her believe that I was better instructed, and more guilty than indeed I was, she told me, I deserved to be buried alive for writing such Letters as those. Upon that I fell a blubbering, and pleaded for myself, that I did not think there had been any harm in writing after such a manner. But she gave me such a Juniper Lecture by way of answer, as opened the eyes of my Understanding, and soon convinced me of my Errors; and I was so ashamed of what I had done, that I began from that very moment to have as great an aversion for Blossac, as I had kindness before. But among all the Abbess' Pious Taunts, and Matronly Sentences, there was none that made so deep an impression upon me, as her upbraiding me for having given a Man an occasion to believe I was in love with him. She told me, there was nothing so mean and despicable; and that Virgins who had no more wit than so to expose themselves, were the slight and contempt of those very Men by whom they sought to be beloved.  
This touched me to the very Soul: So that I was not so much afraid of the Scandals and other Inconveniences, to which, as she assured me, I had exposed myself, as I was ashamed to have done a thing, which as they told me, would make me the scorn of the Person whom I loved.  
I resolved therefore not only not to write to Blossac any more, but never to see him again. I promised the same to the Abbess, and I consented to let my Paper and my Pens be taken from me, to let 'em see that I had a desire, by my disdain, to make amends for my overforwardness, which now I blamed in myself as much as they could do.  
The Abbess had reason to believe, by my ingenuity and submission to her Corrections, that there was nothing but Innocence in what I had done. However, she was one of those who will never miss an opportunity to exalt their own Merit, and get a Reputation for Zeal and Regularity, whatever becomes of their Neighbours. This Lady, who was never looked upon to be one of the exactest Governesses in the World, informed my Parents of what had happened, in hopes that they would judge, by the Account she gave 'em of her Vigilance, that she was not a Woman that would suffer any other then Virgin mary's in her House.  
This was the first Stain that ever blemished my Reputation, and which inclined so many People to judge amiss of my Conduct; and doubtless the Imprudence of the Abbess was the cause of all my Misfortunes. For had she known how to manage this first Fault, I might perhaps have afterwards consented to whatever they demanded of me, to repair it.  
My Mother judged by those Letters, that I had an inclination to Gallantry; which together with some other Reasons that she had to make me a Nun, made her give the Abbess a strict charge to mould me for that course of life.  
The Abbess perceiving how much I endeavoured to obliterate the Fault with which I was upbraided, believed the change of my Behaviour to be an effect of my Repentance: She knew not that Pride was, the cause of it, and that this Pride proceeded from no other Reason, but because I would not be despised by Blossac. It never came into her thoughts that a Girl of no more than Thirteen years of Age should be capable of such a refined piece of Cunning. She believed I had quite forgot Blossac; and that now being recovered from that little Love-frenzy of mine, I would readily yield to those Reasons she should make use of to persuade me, that the only Heaven upon Earth was a Nunnery.  
She told me that all my Relations knew what had passed between Blossac and myself: And that after such a Transgression they could not think of marrying me; because no body would marry a Maid who had been guilty at my years of an Intrigue: That the Story had made a great noise, and done me so much injury, that there was no other way for me but to betake myself to a Religious Life. Then she made me a long Harangue upon the Pleasures of Retirement; she flattered me with hopes that I might suddenly come to be her Coadjutrix, and that she would leave me her Abbey.  
I was not so much a Child as not to see whither all this tended; nor so much a Fool as not to know that there was nothing but Innocence in the main thing with which they upbraided me. And I as readily found by the Abbess' Sermons, that my Relations had a great desire to make a Nun of me. Now in regard there was nothing so remote from my Resolutions, as the Sentiments which she strove to infuse into me, I gave her this confident Answer, That that same Gallantry which she inveighed against so much, was not a thing so criminal as she would needs persuade me. But though what you tell me, said I, were true, yet if it be my Parents absolute pleasure that I must veil myself, I make no question but to obtain this Liberty from them at the least, to make my choice of another House.  
The Abbess astonished at my Answer, and my Resolution, endeavoured to soothe me up, and assured me she would talk no more of it.  
After all these Disputes I perceived in myself a violent desire to see Blossac, and to inform him of every thing that the Abbess had told me. For not doubting but that he would be glad to marry me, and for that he was otherwise a Person suitable to my humour, I thought I could not do better then to renew my Friendship with him. I quite forgot that petty Pride which I assumed upon the discovery of our private Familiarity; nor was I afraid of his despising me when I renewed those Addresses that seemed requisite to recall him. And thus it came to pass, that they restored me to my Passion by the cares which they took to divert me from it.  
It was now near ten Months that he had heard no tidings of me, from the time that I had told him I would see him no more. He had endeavoured to penetrate into the motive that induced me to this change. But at length the Nuns having informed him, that I had shown his Letters, and that I only made it my business to make him my Sport, he was ashamed that he had ever had any kindness for me. He took me for a Child, and for one who had a Character of Inconstancy and Deceit, which it became him to avoid; and with th●se thoughts he resolved to forget me.  
He thought me unworthy of his Sedulities; at what time I found a way to let him know, that I desired to speak with him, and that I desired him to come disguised to the Window of the Speaking-place, where I promised to be at such an Hour. But he received the Message with a disdainful smile, and bid the Messenger tell me, he would come and see me when I had learned more wit.  
What a Rage was I in, when they brought me this Answer! I began to believe what the Abbess had told me, that forwardness in Persons of my Sex always drew contempt upon themselves.  
I was sensible of all the mortification that could cast down a Person naturally vain, when her Vanity is humbled to the lowest degree. I could not tell what course to take to disengage myself from the Trouble which I had brought upon myself. Prompted by my Revenge, sometimes I sa●e musing which way to take away the Life of a perfidious Contemner of my Favours; but then again, condemning so violent a Resolution, nothing would serve me, but to throw myself at his Feet, that I might regain him by my Tears. In short, a thousand extravagant Ideas rolled in my mind, which the reading of Romances had furnished me withal, and which my Youth confirmed.  
After I had spent two or three Months in this doleful condition, I fell into a languishing Distemper, the cause of which the Nuns were ignorant of. I admired the guidance of my Discretion at those years. For I made no body the Confident of my Grievances. And my vanity made me a Dissembler; for I was too much humbled in my own Eyes, to make myself lower in the Eyes of others.  
At length, overwhelmed with grief, and not knowing what to resolve, I made as if I had had a liking to a Religious Life.  
This alteration in my Behaviour astonished the Abbess and the Nuns, who mistook the irregular motions of a Heart too much devoted to what it loved, for the effects of Grace. Never did Virgin testify a more ardent Zeal to take the Veil upon her, than myself. For I was impatient to try, whether the noise of such a Sacrifice would not awake Blossac to a recollecting himself: And on the other side, I had before my Eyes the Honour which such a goodly Action would procure me in the World.  
So soon as my Relations were informed of my Design, they hastened me to take the Habit upon me: And indeed considering the steps that I had made, I could not well go back. However, I found an Expedient to suspend the execution of a Design which began already to terrify me. I told my Parents, that I did not find they led such regular Lives as I could wish, in the Nunnery where I was; and therefore being desirous to renounce the World in good earnest, 'twas my intention to make choice among all the Nunneries, of one the most Austere that I could hear of.  
Now no sooner had I declared my resolution to go to another House, but the Abbess and the Nuns endeavoured to dissuade me from taking the Habit upon me in any House whatever. They told me that I was not of a Constitution proper for a Convent; and some there were who made me the Confident of their secret disgusts against Retirement.  
I ascribed all this good Counsel to the irregularity of their Lives: Nor indeed was I at all troubled to have found out new Reasons for my leaving their Convent. I was therefore still importunate to be carried to another Nunnery; my Mother also complied with my desires; and so I left the Abbess and her Abbey, not knowing whether I had reason to be sorry or to rejoice.  
The Nuns no sooner saw me out of their House, but they told me, like a company of Charitable Baggages as they were, that I was a Coquetting Slut, whom they were overjoyed to be rid of; neither did they fail to make my pretended Amorous Intrigue the subject of their Tittle-tattle to those who were ignorant of it before.  
When I came to the Convent I had made choice of, as well for that I was not yet Fifteen years of Age, as because the Nuns had been informed of all the Reports which had been spread abroad concerning me, they thought it proper to defer the putting me among the Noviciats, but only gave me the Habit and Title of a Postulant.  
This Convent seemed to me quite different from the other: For the Nuns lived all in a perfect Regularity; every one appeared contented with her Condition; there was a holy Emulation among 'em; and in short, they performed all their Duties with an extraordinary Exactness. More than this, the general opinion of their Sanctity had drawn to their House Ladies and Virgins of the highest Quality; and they were so accustomed never to frequent other Houses, that they would not so much as converse with a Lay-sister. They desired always to have Prelates to officiate at all their Solemn Festivals, and never to hear any but the most famous Preachers. Now whether this Affectation were altogether exempt from Pride, and all suspicion of Vanity, is a question not so easily determined.  
One would have thought however, that being so vain as I was, I should have agreed with a Convent where I met with so much Vanity; but besides that I had very little Piety, I scorned that Ridiculous Vanity that sacrifices only to Rank and Outward show. I was only an Idolatress of that vanity which Beauty and Merit inspire; with some kindness too for that other Vanity, to see myself adored by the Person for whom I had an affection.  
And this Vanity made me still retain a lively remembrance of the Affront which, as I thought, Blossac had put upon me: Nor did I so loudly proclaim, as I said before, my Intention to be a Nun, but only to try, whether the Noise of my Design would rouse him to prevent it. But I heard nothing of him; and in the mean time the Day appointed for me to take the Habit upon me, drew near.  
Some few days before, my Father came to see me, and putting the Question to me, whether I really persisted in my Resolution to take the Veil, only my Tea●● made answer for me. By that he understood more than I durst let him know. He told me, he was glad I had not so much Zeal, as others would persuade him I had, for a Condition which he could not permit me to embrace, as having resolved to marry me to a Gentleman whom he had made choice of for me. He farther added, That the Match was suitable to the Condition of his Affairs, and that he was come to talk with me about it. He did not name the Husband whom he had designed me; only he told me in general, that he was a Person with whom I should live happily, well descended, and of a good Estate; but that the Business was to be speedily concluded, and to be kept private from the knowledge of my Mother; for that though the Match were never so advantageous, she would oppose my Marriage, having such an aversion as she had for my advancement, and absolutely resolving to make me a Nun. He told me moreover, that to make sure work, he had designed to take me from the Convent by force; and gave me an account what measures he had studied for that purpose.  
I had not so easily consented to my Father's Design, but that I imagined at the same time, that the Husband he had provided for me might be Blossac himself. I had also some remnants of Romantic Notions rolling in my Head, which made me believe that Blossac had an intention to make a Knight-Errant Wedding of it, by some pleasing surprise, which would be so much the more agreeable to my Humour. I asked my Father therefore whether he were not the Man? And the manner of my Father's refusal to explain himself, fully persuaded me that it could be no other than Blossac, Besides, I was so wrapped up with a belief of this Fancy, that I durst not press my Father any farther, for fear of finding myself deceived. So that I only told him I should be ready to obey him in every thing. Thus while my Mother was preparing for me a Religious Veil, my Father was providing for me Nuptial Sheets. A thing perhaps which never happened before, that two such different Ceremonies should be preparing at the same time for the same Person.  
Some days after this Discourse with my Father, he returned to the Convent, bringing my Mother with him: And then it was that he desired her to let him take me out from the Company, that he might have the consolation of taking his last farewell of me, since he was after that to resign me wholly to God and the Blessed Virgin. My Mother consented; and then my Father taking me by the hand, while my Mother was talking with the Nuns, led me into the Court. At the same time three sturdy Fellows came to us, and taking me up in their Arms, carried me without the Gate, and then threw me into a Coach with six Horses. Presently the Coachman drove away, and I was out of sight in the twinkling of an Eye.  
My Father being now to act his part, returned in a seeming haste to the speaking-Room, and with an air of Grief and Fury told my Mother a plausible Story, such as his Invention had supplied him with, and then pretending a world of eagerness to pursue the Ravishers, he flew to his own Coach, leaving my Mother half mazed, and the Convent in such an uproar, as might well be the effect of so strange and unexpected an Accident.  
My Mother, who suspected not my Father in the least, accused Blossac to be the Contriver and Author of This, and swore she would spare for no cost, till she had obtained full satisfaction for this Violence.  
On the other side, my Father, who knew better than any body what was become of me, made the Coachman drive this way and t'other way, till he had almost tired his Horses, and then sending him back to my Mother, bid him tell her that he was going to take post in pursuit of me, according to such directions as he had received from the Country People.  
In the mean time the Coach, wherein I was, whirled it away full speed; never stopping till it was toward night, that we came to a Place which I was altogether unacquainted with, and where my Father met us about an hour after our Arrival.  
As for my own part, during the whole Journey, I could not find out for my life who the Lady, nor the three Men were, that bore me company. They answered to all my Questions, That my Father would satisfy me.  
When he arrived, he told me the Lady was a Friend of his, whom he had desired to keep me company; and that the three Men were honest Fellows, and faithful Servants of his; how that he would not leave me till he had delivered me safe into the hands of my Husband, who lived at such a Place, which he named, and where his Estate lay. All this while these Stories did nothing correspond with my Imaginations that this Husband might be Blossac: So that now beginning to find I was mistaken, I conjured my Father to have pity upon me, and not to sacrifice me to a Person for whom perhaps I might not have the least inclination. But he only bid me have patience, and all would be well. Thus we continued our Journey, and much ado I had to resist the Mortal Inquietudes that turmoiled my Thoughts; though I did not altogether despair of finding such a Person in my Husband, whose Complacencies might make me forget Blossac.  
In the mean time I observed, during our Journey▪ that one of the Men that accompanied me would be always viewing me with a nice and inquisitive Eye; 〈◊〉 besides that, was very officious to please me. Nevertheless, it never came into my mind so much as to guests that he was the Person designed to be my Husband. However he was the Man. And when we were come within half a day's journey from the Village whither we were travelling, he left us, without discovering who he was. So soon as he was gone, my Father asked me, what I thought of him? and whether he were not a handsome Gentleman? And these Questions he put to me after such a manner, that I knew beforehand what he was going to say to me. However I made him no reply to his Interrogatories, for fear my answer should not please him. I know not whether he found by me, that I had no great stomach to the person of the Man; however, after he had acknowledged him to be the Husband he had provided for me, he told me, he had only left us, to return again and meet us in an Equipage more becoming his Quality. How are poor Maids to be pitied, when their Parents seek only their own Interest in the preferment of their Children! I will now then tell ye the Reasons why my Father sacrificed me to this Gentleman.  
He was the Son of a Counsellor of the Parliament of his Province, who not having any inclination to the Law, had purchased a very great Lordship, with an intention to get it erected into a Marquisate. Which being somewhat difficult to obtain, he had recourse to my Father, who had formerly been his Father's intimate Friend, and who by his Credit at Court procured him what he desired. His Estate indeed was very considerable, and therefore he was doubtless an Advantageous Match for a Virgin who had no Portion.  
There was yet another Reason of greater importance that pressed my Father to marry me. For this Gentleman, after he came to his Estate, had lent my Father a Considerable Sum of Money; and he had so ordered his Business, that my Marriage was to extinguish the Debt. 'Tis true, he did not tell me all this at first; he only told me that he was utterly ruined if I did not comply with his Desires. But when he heard me conjure him not to precipitate my Marriage, he thought it behoved him to tell me the whole Truth, with this farther Circumstance, that my Mother knew nothing of the Debt, and that she would be like a Madwoman, if ever it came to her Ears.  
I did not complain to my Father for seeking by my Marriage to repair the Decays of his Estate; but I could not forbear telling him, that I was sorry he did not sooner let me know the Reasons that induced him to marry me, for that I was persuaded that if he would have bestowed me upon the Marquis of Blossac, he would have been as generous to have engaged the payment of the Debt upon the same Condition. At which my Father fell a laughing, and embracing me, My dear Child, said he, thou dost not understand the World; we live not in an Age, where Persons of Estates pay so dear for their Wives.  
I replied, that he was not acquainted with Blossac's Humour, and that if he pleased, before he married me, to make him the proposal of marrying me upon the same Conditions that he gave me to another, I made no question but that he would accept 'em.  
I gave this Character of Blossac, because I loved him; and not being able to conceal from myself the Affection I had for him, I endeavoured to persuade myself, that the Good Qualities which I conceited in him, rendered him a Person worthy of my love: And judging of his Sentiments by my own, I imagined he would never refuse to obtain me at any rate whatever. Thus I forgot the Contempt of which I had till then accused him: And I had still the vanity to flatter myself that he would never have patiently endured my being married to another, had he been informed of my Destiny. Upon this, I desired my Father to let me write to him, and to put off the Wedding till I received his Answer. But my Father told me I was a Chicken, to imagine that a Man from whom I had not heard in so long time, would impair his Estate to purchase a Bedfellow. Yet such were still the vain Hopes, wherewith I was wont to flatter myself in the succeeding course of my Life: For I always had a good opinion of those that loved me.  
In the mean time my Husband met us with a Magnificent Train; and then, I must acknowledge, he appeared to me quite another thing then what he seemed to be upon the Road. So that after I had for some time wistly viewed and considered him, I felt no farther reluctancy to give him my hand; and therefore making a virtue of necessity, I resolved to make the best of my Fortue.  
We stayed no longer in the Town where we arrived, then to get all things ready for the Nuptial Ceremonies: During which time I was visited by all the Neighbours; and in regard my Father was with me, no body ever dreamt that I had been hurried away in a Coach and Six Horses to a stolen Wedding.  
So soon as the fatal Knot was tied, we went to my Husband's Lordship, where my Father left me, having all the reason in the world to believe that he had disposed of me to a plentiful and happy Being. He had before his departure written to my Mother, that he had met with my Ravisher, and had forced him to marry me: That I had been more fortunate than prudent; for that I had suffered myself to be forced from the Convent by a Person of a great Estate, and of no mean Birth.  
My Father was desirous that I should approve his writing to my Mother after that manner; and that my being forced from the Nunnery should be thought a Contrivance of my own. And this was another Blot upon my Reputation, and of which I too plainly foresaw the Consequences. For no body that saw my Father's Letter, questioned the truth of my being stolen by force; and they as little doubted that it was my Contrivance, because they were ignorant that I was altogether a stranger to my Husband at that time. Besides, my former Inclination for Blossac, so well known, rendered all that my Father had written too probable to be denied: Nor was it any wonder that I should have so much wit, at Sixteen years of Age, to manage a Nuptial Amour, which was the only Remedy I had to prevent my being locked up in a Cloister.  
Thus it fell out, that though I never deserved it, I had all the Honour, or rather all the Shame of this Intrigue: My Wit was admired; but People neither thought, nor spoke so well of my Prudence and Conduct. The Story of my being taken by force out of a Nunnery, was the Discourse of all Paris for a long time, and every body told it after a different manner. The Idea that all Persons had of my Wit and Contrivance for the carrying on of an Amoros Intriegue, sheltered my Father from having any hand in it. But the Relation itself of the Matter of Fact was so remote from Truth, that I should have denied it myself, had I heard it repeated; for there was no disguise which they did not make me put on to facilitate my Escape out of the Cloister▪ insomuch that I was strangely surprised to find that a certain Author, in a Book, wherein he has the goodness to name me, should presume to aver, that I was disguised in Man's Apparal, and that I made my Escape in a Gardner's clothes. Thus if there be but the least foundation for Slander, she believes herself fully authorised to publish whatever Malice dares invent. And I am assured that so many Scandalous Stories as are every day made upon Persons of my Sex are only the effect of this Malignity. But 'tis too early yet to make Reflections. I have many other Adventures to recount, wherein you will find that Slander has as little spared me, though no more guilty, then in this.  
One of the first, to whom the Story of my being forced from the Convent, and my Marriage, was told with all the most malicious Circumstances that Public Report could embellish it withal, was Blossac. Which when he had heard, he seemed to repent his refusing to meet me at the Time and Place appointed. For he had no other Reasons to forbear seeing me, than the noise which our Letters had made; and not believing, that being so young as I was, I could have Discretion and Conduct enough to make use of all the Means and Opportunities that might present themselves to favour our Private Meetings, he resolved to stay till I had more Judgement. And besides, he was not well satisfied with me, because he still conceited it was I who had informed the Abbess of our private Amour. At least it was this that he told me in excuse of himself. For my part, I am persuaded, by what happened after that, that from the time of those Reports he ceased to love me, and that his Flame did not re-kindle, till the noise of my being forced from the Convent gave him to understand, that I was not so much a Child as he took me to be.  
However it were, when he understood that I was married to a Person much below him in Quality, and inferior to him in Estate, he resolved to find me out, not able to forget in what a passionate manner formerly I was wont to breathe into his Amorous Breast my Vows and Resolutions to be always his. Nor was it an unusual thing for him to visit the Province where my Residence was, because his Grandfather had been Governor of it; and for that the Gentry of the Country had a great value for his Respect and Name.   

Book the Second.  
WHILE Blossac was meditating the Recovery of my Affection, I was wholly taken up with the care of pleasing my Husband. Me thought I loved no body but him, though in truth I could make daily discoveries, as well in his Disposition, as in his Person, of those defects which in some measure staggered my Inclination. He was a Man naturally given to debauchery, and one who preferred Wine and Good Cheer before all other Pleasure. He would be frequently fuddled; and in that Condition he was very offensive and disobliging in his Language. He would be still upbraiding me, That instead of bringing him a Portion, I had been the cause of making him part with some of his Choicest Acres: And this Reproach he would usually throw upon me in Public. All People blamed him, and took my part at those times; but there was no alteration; it was not an Injury that was offered me now and then. Nevertheless, I dissembled it so well, that I gave him not the least occasion to accuse me of failing in my Complacency and Respect for him. I led a Life in the Country very retired; having only the Society of one Gentleman that lived in the Neighbourhood, a Person of Wit and Learning. This was M●de Balzac: He brought me to love Reading and Study; and by his Advice I applied myself to read more solid and substantial Authors than any I had hitherto known; I found myself also well inclined to learn the Languages, and to write with more exactness than the generality of Women. This was both a diversion to me, and procured me much honour in the Province; so that I became an Umpress among the Wits, and Judge of their Works. Now receiving so many Verses every day as I did, it may well be thought that they were sent me composed in my Praise; and among Sparkling Wits, I'll assure ye, there were some that made love to me in Verse. But I received nothing from their hands, with which I did not make my Husband acquainted; nor did I perceive that he had any inclination to Jealousy. But I did not long enjoy this Repose. Some body informed him, that before I was Twelve years of Age I had written Amorous Letters to Blossac, which had made a great deal of noise. Which made him believe, that having discovered such an early inclination to Love, I must needs retain it still; and being moreover conscious of his ill usage of 〈◊〉, a conceit came into his head that I could not love him, and that therefore I must have an Amorous Intriegue elsewhere.  
Nor was it long before he knew of whom it was that it behoved him to be jealous. Blossac was come into the Province with some of his Friends; and presently they came all together to pay me a Visit. I was alone in the Castle: But it is impossible to express in what a strange disorder all the motions of my Body were, when I beheld the Man who once had been so dear to me. On the other side, he seemed to me no less embarrassed than myself. After the first Compliments, his Friends commended the Situation and Beauty of the Castle, and desired to see the Apartiments. Which while they were doing, Blossac made a dextrous Escape from his Friends, and having found a way to speak to me in Private, he gave me to understand in the most tender Expressions in the World, that he had always loved me, and that I could not in justice deprive him of a Heart which I had formerly given him. But I had still so much power left as to conjure him never to think more of me, at least, never to make me any more Visits. Nor did I forget to forbid him to write to me, fearing as I acknowledged to him, that my Husband would have no good opinion of any familiar Intercourse between us.  
While we were thus in parley together, my Husband arrived, and it was no body's fault but his own, if he did not perceive that Blossac and I had both been weeping. I am apt to believe that he was sensible of the disorder wherein he found us, but he dissembled it, and all the rest of the day demeaned himself with great civility.  
The Marquis of Sauveboeuf was one of those who accompanied Blossac; and resembled very much the Young Sparks of the Times: He was inconsiderate, and loved to talk to Women without discretion. I know not whether or no he had ever heard, that I had once a kindness for Blossac, or whether it were out of a humour to please himself by crossing my Husband; but all the time we sat chatting together, he would still be telling him, that I was the most Beautiful Woman that ever he beheld in his life; and frankly confessed that he would make love to me, but that I lived in a Province so remote. However, because what Sauveboeuf prattled was only in jest, my Husband took no offence at it. So that when I saw that my Husband seemed so well to understand Ralliery, to remove that jealousy which he had of Blossac, I resolved, though very imprudently, to bestow the main of my Civilities upon Sauveboeuf, and seem desirous to please him. Wherein I did very unadvisedly; for Blossac grew jealous of it; my Husband's Suspicions were thereby confirmed; Sauveboeuf loved me in earnest; and all three took me for the Arrantest Cocquet in nature.  
After our Company had left us, my Husband no longer put any constraint upon himself, but began to reproach me with what I had formerly done for Blossac, and with what I had now done for Sauveboeuf; he swore he would not be the Cully of my Amours, and that I should never stir out of the Castle.  
Some days after, he made a show of having intercepted one of Blossac's Letters which confirmed his Suspicions. He had been so cunningly malicious as to compose the Letter himself: But I knew not what to think of it: For indeed, notwithstanding the Injunction I had laid upon Blossac not to write to me, I was afraid lest he might have ventured a Letter; and I found myself in a strange Labyrinth.  
And here I will aver it with the same sincerity with which I purpose to write these Memoirs, that it was not so much what the Jealousy of my Husband caused me to fear, that busied most my thoughts in the sad Reflections which I made upon my Destiny, as the consequence of an Amour, of which I had formerly been sensible, and which had then got the mastery of my Heart. I was more pleased to think that I was beloved by Blossac, than I was afraid of my Husband's Resentment. I pardoned Blossac also for his imprudence in writing to me: And lastly, Whatever seemed to assure me of his Fidelity, made a deeper impression upon me, than all the Dangers to which he exposed me. Nevertheless, I will say thus much more with the same sincerity, that I had no design in all this, contrary to my Duty. I was also prepared to suffer whatever my Husband should inflict upon me. Nor did I hope for any other happiness, then to observe a blind obedience to his Humour, and to foster at the bottom of my Heart the secret pleasure of loving another, with so much the more fidelity, because I was resolved to yield nothing to my Passion. What an Example of Virtue should I have been, had I had a Husband endued with greater Prudence! But he spared me so little, and took so much care to cry me down, that Vexation and Despite made me lose something of the delicacy of my Sentiments. 'Twas my Opinion that I might seek a means to secure my Repose, provided I did nothing that could bring reproach upon my Actions.  
My Husband's behaviour toward me, gave occasion to all the Reports that were spread abroad at that time: 'Twas believed he did not use me so, without just cause: Nay, it was reported, that during the Visit which Blossac paid me, my Husband had surprised me in the very Act.  
My Husband gave credit to that Scandal, and conceited with himself, that it became him to treat me as if I had been guilty. So that the fear of being oppressed, made me study the most speedy way to free myself out of his hands. To that purpose, one of my Women, and myself, disguised ourselves in the Habit of Country Girls, and intermixing ourselves with the Workmen that wrought in the Castle, we went out in the dusk of the Evening along with them, and walked it to a Place where a Lackey, whose Fidelity I had gained by Reward, stayed for us with Horses.  
After we had rode all Night, we came the next Morning to a Convent, the Abbess of which had promised me sanctuary.  
So soon as I was safe there, I wrote to my Husband, complaining of his Severity, which had constrained me to betake myself to flight: And to my Father, to inform him of the Reasons why I left my Husband. I besought both the one and the other to examine without passion whether I had deserved such usage. My Affection also tempted me to write to Blossac: But I had strength enough to resist that Temptation; fearing lest my Letter might be intercepted, and produced as a Testimony to prove me guilty, at a time when it so much concerned me to appear innocent.  
My Husband made me no return: But my Father sent me word, that I had done ill to leave him; that he would write to him, in order to engage him to take me home again; and that he would not fail to be speedily with me, and be a means to return me reconciled into his hands.  
How easy is it for People who behold the Misfortunes of others only at a distance, to take that course which then my Father took! I was so ill satisfied with his Letter, that I wrote him an Answer, That I would rather die then return to my Husband, who being the first to accuse his Wife of a Disorder, which he well knew she was innocent of, had thereby acquired a right to misuse her when he pleased.  
My Father to appease me, and at the same time to convince me that I was in the wrong, sent me a Letter which my Husband had written to him, wherein he only complained of my little Affection for him, without mentioning a word of those Jealousies and Suspicions which he had manifested to me: Protesting on the other side, that he had always adored me, and swearing that he would spare▪ for nothing to make me forget the Causes which he might have given me to complain of him.  
My Father was moved with the Tenderness that appeared in that Letter; and at first I was mollified with it myself; so little of evil did my Heart contain, and so easy would it have been for my Husband to have lived happily with me, would he have been so pleased himself. But at length, upon a review of his Letter, I perceived the Spirit of it, and I saw well that his Softness was only an Artifice to surprise me. And this confirmed me more than ever in my Resolution never to return home again.  
All this while my Reputation was cruelly attacked: And then I began to understand, that of all the Resolutions that a Woman, whether guilty or innocent, can take, the worst is to leave her Husband's House. Yet after all, how prejudicial soever this Resolution was to my Reputation, it seemed necessary for my Repose, and I was of opinion that my Quiet aught to be more dear to me then my Honour. Doubtless this was an Illusion: For the one cannot be lost without the other: And an honest Woman must never hope for repose, that neglects the care of her Honour. Such are the Extremities to which we are reduced by Matrimony. What Woman therefore would engage in it, did she but consider, that there is no other remedy for an unfortunate Woman, but to endure, without daring to complain of her Sufferings, or seek the means to avoid 'em?  
But in regard, that when I married, I did not apprehend it was my duty to render myself unhappy, I only made it my endeavour to set myself at liberty. And I may also say, That the less ground I saw for the Reports that were spread abroad against my Honour, the more Courage, and the greater Resolution I had to contemn 'em. But I must also confess, that the more I was persuaded that People had an ill opinion of me, the more I accustomed myself to slight the Probabilities that might confirm it. I minded only to preserve myself innocent. That was all the virtue and the merit which I proposed to myself. Neither did my Delicacy aim so far as to appear exactly what I was: whether it were, that I despaired of success, or that the love of my repose made that Niceness seem to me quite out of season. But in short, 'twas only the obstinacy of People to cry me down, which fixed me in that disposition of mind. I wish that Women, who are under the same Circumstances, may not follow my Example; if there be any one however that can do otherwise.  
But to let my Father see that my Husband's Letter was full of Artifice, I sent him a new Scroll of all his severe Usage and Menaces with which he continually worried me, and put me into hourly Frights; and conjured him not to overwhelm me with Despair, by obliging me to live with him again. I must confess, that my Husband's ill usage of me was not sufficient to authorise a Separation; but it was too terrible for me to endure. I tremble every time I think upon it, that he should threaten to keep me locked up in the Castle; and it raises my Anger when I call to mind the injurious and threatening Language which he continually pealed in my Ears. More than this, I did not believe that a Woman was bound to stay till utmost Extremities to be separated from a Husband: Nor did I much mind whether the Law or my Parents made the Separation, provided we might be parted.  
In the mean time I understood that my Father, instead of returning an Answer to my last Letter, was preparing to deliver me back into my Husband's possession.  
On the other side, my Mother, who was afraid of nothing more than that I should return to Paris, and put her to charges, wrote me troublesome Letters, wherein she gave me those admirable Lessons, which I much question whether she would have practised herself, had she been in my Condition.  
This made me take a Resolution which I withstood at first; but which, after all, was that which flattered me most, and of which the very thought afforded me consolation in the midst of my Troubles and Afflictions. I wrote to Blossac, and gave him an Account of my Condition, desiring his Advice and Assistance. However, because I was still afraid lest my Letter should be intercepted, I let nothing fall from my Pen that might give him the least hint that I had still a Passion for him. I only seemed to repair to him, as to a general Friend, not knowing where else to address myself, But this Precaution quite ruined me in the good opinion of Blossac, or rather served as a pretence for his Inconstancy. For certain it is, that if he had always loved me, he would never have quarrelled with me for making so little a show of my Passion, because he might well judge that I could not in prudence write otherwise, considering the Circumstances I was under.  
I have already told ye, that he was jealous of my Civilities to Sauveboeuf. This Jealousy was strengthened by the many Reports which my Husband had spread about to my Disgrace. For in all Companies where he took pains to dishonour me, Sauveboeuf's Name was not forgotten. And the very naming of a Person who was famed for being one of the greatest Intrieguers about the Country, was enough to render the Calumny probable.  
Now Blossac not finding in my Letter my former tenderness of Expressions, believed me another Woman; and that it was not out of inclination or preference that I addressed myself to him, but out of pure necessity. So that he was neither a Lover that had the Tenderness, nor a Friend that had the Generosity to serve me. He returned me an Answer the flattest, the most spropositous, and the most offensive in the World, reproaching me with my ill Conduct, and my natural propensity to Coquettry. Alas! he forgot that 'twas himself who had infused that propensity into me: And his Perfidiousness went so far as to make that criminal in me, which I had only done for his sake.  
I read over his Letter no less than ten times, not being able to persuade myself that ever he could have been capable of so much Ingratitude as to write to me in that manner. But being fully at length convinced of it, I ceased from that moment to have any longer for him, I will not say, not only the least Inclination, but the least Esteem. I was astonished that I should be so long before I understood it; and I repented that I had not taken a Resolution to despise him, from the very time that he refused to give me the meeting already spoken of. This speedy change in my heart in reference to Blossac, convinced me that there is not any Woman sensible of her Honour, who is proof against some certain Injuries. From that time forward I could never endure either to see, or have any value for him. All that I could do, in consideration of the Sentiments which he had inspired into me, was only never to name him. I know not whether all Women will approve this speedy Resolution of mine to forget him. But I can hardly believe there is any Woman so low-spirited, as to continue her Affection to a Man that should forsake her in necessity, and under a slight Pretence, when unfortunate only for his sake. We may pardon Inconstancy, Fantastical Humour, and even Injuries themselves, when they are not the Character of a Base and Interested Heart; but I cannot believe it other than a Crime to love a Man who suffers a Woman whom he had loved, and who craves his Assistance, to become a prey to her Enemies. He ought to have served me without any hesitation, and that done, he might have chosen whether he would have loved me or no. And therefore in my opinion I did no more than what any Rational Woman would have done, in defacing him out of my heart.  
So soon as I had received the forementioned Letter, and that it had caused so sudden a change in my Affection all things, methought begun to look with a new face. I did not think my Husband's Behaviour so hateful as it seemed to be: I blamed myself for having left him; and I expected the arrival of my Father with as much impatience, as fear of seeing him before. I found no reluctancy to submit to what he had propounded to me; and I looked upon the Misfortunes which I had so much dreaded, to be no other than the effects of vain Terror. By which we may see, that Love is that which gives what Tincture it pleases to things; and that when a Woman ceases to have a Passion for another Man besides her Husband, she has courage enough, either not to magnify the causes of her fear, or else not to be afraid at all. How happy had I been, had I considered these things sooner, and had always remembered 'em during the continued course of my Life.  
How great a power did my Father believe he had over me, when he beheld me so submissive to what- not how, from the Sparks that stopped him, came riding up with his Sword in his hand, and threatened to kill me. Upon which Sauveboeuf not believing it safe to trust me in such rude hands, carried me away by force, notwithstanding all that I could say or plead for myself.  
Thus by the most unexpected Accident that ever was, I found myself as it were torn from the hands of my Husband, at a time when I began to love him; and I became at the same time an Innocent Occasion of new Stories and fresh Calamities to the prejudice of my Reputation, when I was wholly taken up with a desire to have fixed myself to my duty.  
What a noise did this Story make; and what did not People say of me in the World! My Father and my Husband made no question, but that it was a Contrivance of mine which had engaged Sauveboeuf to this Act of Violence: And being so prepossessed, they made no wonder that I so readily consented to my Reconciliation; and after this, my Father no less readily believed whatever my Husband had told him before. And indeed, Probabilities rendered the Proceeding so Criminal, that neither the one nor the other could well excuse me. And upon this they were so incensed against me and Sauveboeuf, that without any consideration of their own Honours and my Reputation, they went to Bourdeaux, to make their Complaint to the Parliament.  
But they were not a little amazed to meet Sauveboeuf there, who to justify me as I had desired him, had followed 'em to that City. However, 'twas in vain for him to lay before 'em, that I had no hand in the Violence: For that was thought to be an Excuse only to hinder the Prosecution of the Law.  
In the mean time Public Report had spread abroad a new Story, by which it was given out, that Sauveboeuf, having forced me from my Friends, only to satisfy a transitory Passion, had left me so soon as he had humoured his loose Desires.  
What a troublesome thing it is to lie at the mercy of certain Conjunctures! while every body takes the liberty to vent Probabilities for truth; so that it may be said that the good or bad Reputation of Women depends upon the Circumstances of their Adventures.  
Besides that Sauveboeuf was well esteemed in the Parliament of Bourdeaux, and had very powerful Friends, there was another Reason which hindered my Father and my Husband from prosecuting this Affair. Nor did Sauveboeuf shun 'em, but waited on 'em himself to give 'em an Account of his Conduct; and among other things he told 'em, that the same day that he forced me from 'em, he carried me back to the Nunnery which I left that Morning. Certainly they must have been most dreadfully prepossessed against me, to question my Innocency after that. For, in short, had I loved Sauveboeuf in such a manner as they seemed to believe, and to that end, had engaged him to force me out of their hands, most assuredly I would never have returned the same day to the Convent; I should have doubtless chosen some other Sanctuary; nor would I so soon have taken care to justify myself.  
My Father and my Husband made a show of giving credit to what Sauveboeuf told 'em; and so, quitting their Prosecutions, perhaps because they thought they should get nothing by 'em, they returned to me, who stayed all this while in the Convent. But this Visit was quite different from the former. They both of them disinherited me; neither had I those kind thoughts of my Husband as before, while I began to look on Sauveboeuf with no indifferent Eye.  
Thus we quitted the Convent a second time: But then I must acknowledge, I followed my Father and my Husband with as much Reluctancy and Sadness, as Cheerfulness and Joy before this unlucky Adventure.  
My Father stayed with us a few days; and before he left me, he prepared me for all the cold Treatments of my Husband, which in a little time he failed not to make me sensible of. I did all that lay in my power to remove from my Father's mind all those Suspicions, which my being forcibly carried away had created in him. But he made me answer, that nothing but my future behaviour could undeceive him, and that if ever I gave him occasion to be displeased with me again, I must never expect to find any Protection among my Relations. And thus I became exposed to greater Misfortunes than those which hitherto had befallen me.  
Some time after I found myself to be with Child; and because it pleased my Husband to forget that we had been together near two days when he came the first time with my Father to the Convent, he imputed to Sauveboeuf what he ought not to have imputed to any but himself. Never had Calumny a weaker foundation: For all the World knew, that since my first acquaintance with Sauveboeuf, he had never spoken to me but in the presence of Witnesses. But whether it were that my Husband resolved to ruin me, or that it was his pleasure to assert an untruth, he openly declared that I could not be with Child by him.  
Then I foresaw all the Sorrows that afterwards befell me. I wrote to my Father an Account of my Condition, and of the Injury my Husband did me: But, my Father died about the same time, which redounded still to my disgrace, and became an addition to my Misfortune, because his Death was imputed to my having broken his heart. Nor was there any body now left to whom I could repair for Succour, but my Mother, who perfectly hated me; and for fear I should return home, was the first that confirmed my Husband's Suspicions, and infused into him thoughts of shutting me up in a Nunnery.  
I shall not say anything how I lived after this with my Husband. There is no need that the World should be informed of my ill usage, to beget compassion of my Misfortunes. My Condition was sufficient to make People apprehensive that never Woman was more unfortunate.  
I also owe so much prudence to the Memory of a Man whose Wife I was, to say nothing of him, more than what I cannot dispense with letting the World know: But certain it is, that I suffered whatever Cruelty and Scorn could invent to torment a Woman.  
At length, in the midst of that despair to which I was reduced; and dreading as well for myself, as the Child in my Womb, all those dismal Consequences which I had reason to fear, once more I thought it my best way to commit myself to the Fortune of a second Flight. This Design of mine I imparted to Balzac, who, as I said before, was a near Neighbour of mine, and often came to visit me. He advised me to go to Bourdeaux, and complain to the Parliament. This, no question, was good Counsel, but my love for Sauveboeuf would not let me follow it, and forced me to take a bad Resolution. I went to the Marchioness of R—For the vexation of having recourse to a Rivaless did not so much prevail with me, as the hopes of obtaining by her Assistance the succour and protection of a Person whom I loved: But I never committed a fault in my life, for which I deserved to be more severely rebuked, than this. Yet after all, whither must a Woman carry her Complaints, when she is altogether void of Succour, and has also a prevailing Passion in her Heart that blinds her Reason.  
Sauveboeuf was in Languedoc; and the Marchioness, as jealous of me and could possibly be of her, found a means to render fruitless all the Letters which I wrote to him, either by stopping 'em, or by prepossessing him against me. At least this was what I imagined; not being able to persuade myself, that a Man should testify so great a Passion for me, yet never write me back one Answer, in such a deplorable Condition as mine.  
Thus it was that I was well enough punished for the choice I had made of the Marchioness' House. Not that the Marchioness failed in any point of Civility toward me; but on the other side, did me a thousand good Offices: But in short, I suffered myself to be beholding to a Woman who received Letters every day from Sauveboeuf, while I could hear no tidings what was become of him. I found I was too unfortunate to have faithful Friends. But as unfortunate as I was, I found myself vain enough not to digest the seeing another so severely preferred before me.  
I resolved therefore to quit the Marchioness, and that I might conceal the motive of my Resolution, I feigned the Receipt of Letters from my Mother, who had sent for me to lie in at Paris. She believed it; or else she dissembled the believing of it: And so, though very near my time, I set forward in the Road to Paris, not knowing where to lodge when I came there: For I never thought that my Mother would ever receive me.  
I ordered therefore two Places to be hired in the Public Coach under another Name; and so I departed, attended only by one of my Chambermaids. Now in regard that none of the Passengers knew me, I heard myself frequently talked of during the Journey. Nothing made more a noise in the Province, than this my second Flight from my Husband's House. 'Twas all the Discourse of the Strangers in the Coach; and I had more than once an occasion to be angry at the fooleries which they prattled. There was one Man, whom I never saw in my life, who averred that he was perfectly well acquainted with me, and who not dreaming that he was trifling in my presence, maintained, that it was none of his fault that he had not been one of my Gallants. He affirmed, that I had left my Husband to run after Sauveboeuf; and he added to all the rest a thousand Abominable Circumstances. And thus it is that we meet with People every day, who corroborate Scandal by a false Honour which they attribute to themselves; and who, that they may seem to be privy to Affairs that make a great noise, invent Particulars of which they pretend to understand the original Reason. I had a mind more than once to have confounded those Calumnies by discovering myself: But I thought it much better, without making myself known, to take the Lady's part, of whom so much ill was spoken.  
I was not ignorant that I was become the public Discourse; but I never imagined that Scandal was arrived to that height, as I had reason to know, to my cost, by the Things that were discoursed of in my own hearing. Which shows us, that how much vilified soever a Woman may be, she never thinks herself so much cried down as she is. And therefore it would be very requisite sometimes, that they who have given the World an occasion to censure their Conduct, should hear what People say of 'em. Perhaps they might make a better advantage of such a piece of Knowledge than I did. For I believing that nothing could be charged upon me, to the prejudice of that Fidelity which I owed my Husband, whatever they said moved me no more, then only to stir up within me a secret desire of Revenge. Whereas I should have understood, that seeing outward Appearances afforded Calumny such fair Handles to lay hold of, I should have been more circumspect to have avoided 'em.  
The heat wherewith I took the part of those Ladies whom the Public signalises for Adventures, won me the Friendship of a Young Gentlewoman who road in the Coach with her Husband. They were Persons, who after they had resided for some time in the Province where the Husband had a very considerable Employment, were returning to Paris, where they had left their Family. The Husband was called M. Laval: And Mademoiselle Laval was a Lady pretty enough to make me believe that she was a little concerned in my defence of the Women. However, they seemed to live, both of 'em, in perfect agreement, and their Union made me envy their happiness, and bemoan the Fate of Young Virgins of Quality who are sacrificed to Interest.  
I had ●●ill taken my Measures, and was so near my Time, that I was forced to stop in a Little Village, within a Day's journey of Paris. Mademoiselle Laval would not leave me; but judging by my deportment that I was a Person of Quality, desired her Husband that he would let her stay with me: And he was so complaisant, as to give her permission.  
I was brought to bed of a Boy, who has since made me amends for the Misfortunes of his Birth, by his Merit, and the Reputation he has acquired. But a Son, who has been so much the more a Sufferer for my sake, because he never failed in his Respect and Tenderness for a Mother, who too frequently, yet without being guilty, gave him occasion to complain.  
I was three Weeks before I was able to sit up; and all the while Mademoiselle never left me; for which I obliged her to accept of a Diamond, as a small recompense of her Care. Soon after her Husband came to visit us, and seeing the Present I had made his Wife, he offered me his House in Paris: A kindness which I was willing to accept, till I had sounded how my Mother stood affected toward me.  
So soon as I came to my Lodging, I sent her, by my Maid, a Letter, which I had written in such a Style as I thought most prevalent to mollify her Obduracy, giving her an account of my being brought to bed, and of the Reasons that forced me to leave my Husband. But upon reading it, she burst out into such a heat of Indignation against me, as no way became a Parent, nor would she vouchsafe so much as to ask where I lodged: Neither did my Maid, seeing her in such a Chafe, think it proper to tell her. All that the Maid could obtain from her was, that she would receive the Child; and I ordered it to be carried to her, with a second Letter, which had no better Success than the former; for she still refused to see me.  
This Severity of my Mother most cruelly perplexed me: And I thought to have applied myself to my Relations: But fearing to find them no less morose and inflexible than she, I resolved to let no body understand who I was but Monsieur Laval, and Mademoiselle Laval; in hopes thereby to engage 'em to a continuance of their Cares. But it had a contrary Effect. Monsieur Laval became jealous. He imagined that the Friendship which his Wife had showed me, had no other ground then the conformity of our Inclinations. The Stories that had been told him in the Province, and what he had heard in the Coach, made him believe me to be a Woman that had neither Honour nor Conduct; and thus assuring himself that I was a Person of a lewd Conversation, he bid his Wife give me fair warning to provide me another Lodging, and forbade her to have any farther familiarity with me.  
Mademoisel Laval, who had still a greater friendship for me when she knew who I was, was at her Wits-end, having received such absolute and peremptory Orders from her Husband: She told my Maid, and she brought me the News.  
These unseasonable Tidings made me very uneasy: Nevertheless I told Madam Laval, that it was her Duty to obey her Husband; and I made her a long Sermon upon that Subject, stuffed with Admonitions and Lessons, which I had more reason to practise than she. But this is not the first time that we have seen People quick sighted in the Omissions of others, that were always blind in the observance of their own Neglects.  
She promised me, that whatever Lodgings I took, she would find a way to come and visit me. Thus I left Madam Laval's House, and hired a Lodging ready furnished; from whence I sent, time after time to my Mother, that whenever she pleased to hear me, and be a means that I might have justice done, I would not refuse to return to my Husband. But I was astonished, when instead of receiving any answer from my Mother, I understood that my Husband was come to Paris, that he never stirred out of her House; and that both of 'em spared for no cost to obtain an Order from the King to shut me up in a Cloister.  
Fearing therefore lest they might accomplish their Design, I resolved to lie concealed, till I could meet some Person, under whose Protection I might have justice done my Innocence.  
In the mean time, my Money was almost all gone, and I began to be afraid of Necessity and Poverty, which are doubtless the severest of all Punishments, when my Maid came to me with a great deal of joy, and told me, that she had met Blossac, that she had informed him where I lay, and that he had promised to come and visit me the same day.  
Now that which filled my Maid with so much joy, was her hopes that Blossac would offer me Money; for she was not ignorant of my Wants; besides that, a Person the least scrupulous of any in the World, and would willingly have propounded to me all sorts of ways to get Money, had she found me disposed to follow her Counsels.  
I chid her severely for telling Blossac where I lodged, seeing I had resolved never to see him more; and at the same time, after I had paid my Landlord, I removed immediately to another House, letting no body know where I lay, unless it were Madam Laval; resolving rather to suffer the Indignities of Want, then to be obliged to so unworthy a Person. All the while my Maid used all her Art, with a world of Tittle-tattle to vanquish my unseasonable Pride, as she called it, and quoted me a hundred Women of as great Quality as myself, to convince me by their Example, that I was not to refuse any Relief when I stood in need of it. But at the same time Madam Laval, who guest at my Condition, brought me Forty Pistoles, which she desired me to accept. I perceived she had sold the Jewel which I gave her; so that I refused at first to receive the Money. But judging by the manner of her presenting it, that she would think herself highly disobliged if I refused her Offer, I complied with her Kindness.  
As for my Maid, she endeavoured to persuade me to admit Blossac to give me a Visit, though it were but once, and no more; and seeing she lost time in Persuasions, she went herself to find him out, and told him doubtless where I lodged: for he appeared to me like an Apparition▪ when I least expected him. 'Tis true, my Misfortunes had not altered me in the least; and I was glad that he found me the same as he had seen me formerly, that I might make him the more sensible of the Entertainment I resolved to give him.  
Madam Laval was then in the Room, and was a Witness of our Converse. So soon as he saw me, he blushed and turned pale almost at the same time. Presently, at the first view of him, I rose up, and going towards him, I asked him what his Business was, and desired him to be gone. Nevertheless, he would have put on an Air of Familiarity; but finding such a coldness in my Reception, he laid aside his Gaiety, and asked me what I had to object against him? I answered him, that I knew him not; that in truth, I took him formerly for one of my Friends, but that I had been mistaken in him. Now because he was conscious that he had provoked me, he told me, that if he did not come to my Assistance, he had Reasons for it, which he hoped would satisfy me, when I heard heard. But perceiving that I would not hearken to him, he drew a Purse, which he desired me to accept; adding withal, that I might have occasion for it. I refused it; he would have given it my Maid; but I forbid her so severely to receive it, that she durst not disobey me. Blossac seeing me thus obstinate, in a kind of fury put up his Purse into his Pocket, and going out of the Room, in an insolent manner told me, that the next time I wanted him, I should come after him.  
I made Madam Laval acquainted with the Reasons I had to be offended with Blossac, and she commended me for using him as I had done.  
She had a Kinsman that lived at the Hostel ' d' Epernon, whose Name was Morille: And one day she took an occasion to talk to him concerning me, and the Condition I was in. Morille was generous and obliging: And for that Reason, compassionating my Sufferings, he spoke of me to the Duke of Candale.  
The Duke, to whom my Name was not unknown, and who had heard talk of my Adventures, gave Morille Orders to wait upon me, and to give Madam Laval two hundred Pistoles for my present Occasions. Madam Laval was too much my Friend, to conceal from my knowledge that Morille acted by the Duke of Candale's Orders: And I was willing to be beholding to the Duke, because I had reason to believe, that what he did was only out of Generosity; of which I was so much the more readily convinced, because he did not seem to have any desire to see me.  
I must confess, I was not a little taken with the Duke's Civilities; and a little thing perhaps would have persuaded me not to have taken amiss a Visit from him. But I understood soon after, that there was something of Interest in his Generosity. For so soon▪ as he understood that I had accepted his two hundred Pistoles, he sent to me that he might be admitted to kiss my Hand, which I could not well refuse him. He spoke not a word that tended to give me the least intimation of what he had done; and always interrupted me, when he perceived me going about to testify my acknowledgement. But though he were so diligent to prevent my Acknowledgements of his Generosity, he affected no less to talk of the Passion, which as he said, he had for me: And I was bound to hear him, and to believe some part of his Discourse.  
There was nothing in my heart that opposed the Inclination that I had for him, but the necessity of being obliged to him, under which I laboured. Thus by an odd effect of Scruple and Delicacy, the same things, which having convinced me of his Generosity, had infused into me an esteem and value for him, hindered me from resolving to give him proofs of it. I must confess, that had I not been beholding to him, I am apt to think I should have had as great an Affection for him as he protested Love for me. But imagining with myself, that it would be suspected my Passion was grounded upon Interest, I took a Resolution to resist whatever might ripen an Inclination for him. For this reason I answered him in such a manner as might deprive him of all hope; and I conjured him also never to see me more, till I was in a condition to acknowledge his Bounty.   

Book the Third.  
BUT the World is so persuaded that Women are altogether governed by Interest, that the Duke of Condale made no question of my having a private Amour somewhere else. Which made him talk to the Count of B— of my contempt of Interest, as of a Novelty newly come into the World. The Count, who was one of those that believed there could be no honest Woman, told him that he had been a Cully to his own Generosity; and offered to give him proofs of it. To which purpose he resolved to enter into a strict acquaintance with me, as well to undeceive the Duke, as to rank me among his Heroesses. But he was mistaken in his Aims; for he found nothing in the Reception I made him, that was for his purpose, to embellish his Memoirs withal. After I had refused to hearken to a Person who had highly obliged me, it could not be imagined I would be over hasty to flatter the Assiduities of one who attempted my Virtue, to make sport with it.  
At first he sent me Letters without any Name; as if my Fortune had depended upon his Conquest; and because he wrote better than another, he thought I would be glad to entertain a Correspondence with so witty a Lover. I found his Letters very pretty; but I was not in a Condition to take any delight in reading 'em: And when I saw that he persisted in writing to me, I not only refused to receiv 'em, but burned those which I had already received, in the presence of Madam Laval.  
However, the ill fate of those Letters did not discourage the Count; and being informed of the time and place where I went to Mass, he made his appearance there several times; and because I would not be seen to take any notice of him, he accosted me. At what time after he had testified to me his extraordinary desire to be acquainted with me, he talked to me of his Letters. I answered him, that I had never read 'em; that the Business which detained me at Paris, would not permit me to lose so much time; and more, that I did not understand why he should pretend to so much Boldness, as to write and talk to a Woman who had no acquaintance with him, nor ever desired to have any. These words put him quite out of order; so that he brushed away from me, and went to tell the Duke of Candale, that I was not a Woman who had common sense.  
The Duke of Candale laughed at him for his Presumption, and conceived a greater esteem for me. Nevertheless, he was not so eager to pay me his Assiduities; but forbore to visit me, whether it were that he despaired to reap any fruit of his Pains, or that he were naturally impatient.  
In the mean time Necessity pressed harder and harder upon me every day. And though none of my Relations were ignorant of the Wrongs my Husband and my Mother did me, none of 'em sent me any relief. 'Tis true, that some of 'em were downright with my Mother, and laid before her, how much she was bound in Conscience to assist me; but her Hatred supplied her with Reasons that stopped their mouths. And then they cried, her Mother knows more than we; there must be something in the matter, or else a Mother could never be so cruel to her own Flesh and Blood. For it is always a much more easy thing to condemn the Unfortunate, then to afford 'em any Succour in their Distress. Nevertheless there was a Lady who took some compassion upon my deplorable Condition. This Lady was the Duchess of Chastillon; and though she were my Mother's Friend, she offered me both her House and her Table. But by the unlucky influence of my Stars, all the Duchess' Favours and Bounty became fatal to her Reputation and mine.  
The Abbot Fouquet was one of her Acquaintance, and gave us frequent Visits. This Abbot the Duchess would be still obliging to make me Presents; to which purpose she made use of a means that put me to no little shame. We frequently played all three together, and in regard the Abbot never played but with a design to lose, I won considerably every day. Nevertheless, Madam de Chatillon not contented with having supplied me with Money by this means, after she had one day won, at the Fair, a Service of great value, she caused it to be sold, and pressed me to accept the Money. But the Abbot, who was desirous that Madam de Chatillon should be beholding to him for it, bought the Plate again the next day, and sent it her home to her House.  
This Piece of Gallantry made a great noise; and because few People knew the motive of Charity that induced the Duchess to act in that manner, they thought she had sold the Service merely for the sake of the Money. And as for the Abbot, after this, there was no farther question made of it, but that he was in love with Madam de Chatillon, and that I was the Confident privy to the Intrigue.  
This Scandal spread abroad to that degree far and near that the Duchess was constrained to remove me from her House. And I parted from her with all the Sorrow, that it was possible for me to be sensible of, for having innocently given an occasion to the Injurious Reports that had been raised to the prejudice of her Honour. And they made the same interpretation of my Removal, as they had done of her Bounty. For they gave out that I was only sent away, because she perceived that the Abbot Fouquet was in love with me. And indeed he was meditating Secret Designs, which I discovered afterwards.  
After I left Madam de Chatillon, I put myself into a Convent; and three days after the Abbot Fouquet brought me a Letter from her, wherein she sent me word, that notwithstanding the Reasons which obliged her to refrain my Company, she was still my Friend: That it became me seriously to think of forcing my Husband and my Mother to do me Reason; and to the end I might have more liberty to act then in a Convent, she had given order for a House for me in such a Quarter of the City, where she would take care that I should want for nothing. I really-believed that this Letter came from Madam de Chatillon: And being earnestly desirous to put an end to the Disputes between me and my Husband, I consented to what she had ordered in my behalf, without any more ado. So that after I had returned her a thousand Thanks in a long Letter, I quitted the Convent, and went to the House prepared for me, in company with Mrs. Laval. For her Husband, who was then in the Province, no longer minded his Wife's coming to see me, so long as he perceived that I had found Protection and Support.  
I found in this Lodging an Apartment very richly and modestly furnished, as also a Coach with the Ciphers of Madam de Chatillon. I admired her Generosity, and often complained to her in my Letters, that notwithstanding I received so many Favours from her Bounty, I had not the liberty to visit her. For I forgot to let ye know, that when we parted, she told me 'twas not convenient we should visit one another. I must confess, I never received any Answers to my Letter; but the Abbot Fouquet, who still undertook to deliver 'em, and who frequently came to visit me, always brought me Compliments and Excuses in the Duchess' Name. However, in a little time I began to consider, that the Abbot's Visits were too frequent: But in regard he still brought me news of Madam de Chatillon, and that he seemed to visit me only upon the account of my Business, I durst not desire him to forbear coming so often.  
In this manner I lived for some time, without dreaming in the least that there had been any foul play in these Civilities that were shown; when Mrs. Laval one morning entered my Chamber, and gave me to understand with tears in her Eyes, that the Lodging where I lay, belonged to the Abbot Fouquet, and that it was the Public Talk of the Town, that he kept me. In a word, That Madam de Chatillon was no way concerned in any of these Favours, for which I thought myself wholly beholding to her Liberality.  
It is not to be imagined how much I was astonished at this News. Methought I saw at that very instant every thing that I had not the wit to see before. I made no doubt but the Things which had been told me, were true; and I admired how I could be so palpably cheated. Presently I flew to Madam de Chatillon's House; but so soon as I appeared, she came towards me, and loading me with Reproaches, bid me be gone out of doors immediately. This Reception seized me with amazement; I fell into a swoon, from which they had much ado to recover me: I asked in vain to speak with Madam de Chatillon, but she refused me admittance, and sent me word again to make haste out of her House. This Usage having too sadly convinced me of the truth of what Mrs. Laval had told me, I resolved to return no more to that Fatal House; but went directly to the Convent which I left some Weeks before: But the House refused to admit me: And I found by the Language which they gave me, that I alone was ignorant of the Trick that had been put upon me.  
Mrs. Laval, who knew me to be innocent of all this, gave me the best comfort that she could; and, I believe, that had it not been for her, I had stabbed myself. She carried me to one of her own Friends, where she left me, till she went to fetch away such things as were properly my own; but more especially to seek for the Letter wherein M. de Chatillon had offered me the Lodging. There she met the Abbot Fouquet in a heavy toss to know what was become of me. She told him that I was fallen ill at a House where I intended to have spent the Afternoon, and that they had put me to Bed. He really believed what she told him to be true, and desired Mrs. Laval to be his Guide to the Place where I was; nor could any thing that she could say to be rid of him, prevent his coming along with her: Neither indeed was she unwilling that he should see me, to the end I might school him for the injury he had done me. But so soon as I perceived him, my Tears that were but newly ceased, burst forth again: I had not strength enough to speak a word. So that Mrs. Laval beholding me in that Condition, told him the true Reason of my Affliction.  
But the Abbot with a smiling Countenance bid me be of good cheer, assuring me that nothing had been done but by Madam de Chatillon's Order: And to prove the falsehood of all those things which had been told me, he alleged the Respect which he had always had for me.  
I was so cast down by the Troubles and Vexations attending this Adventure, that I listened with delight to the Assurances which he gave me, that all was but a false Alarm. So true it is, that in overwhelming Misfortunes we lay hold on every Bough to save ourselves. But in short, the Reception which the Duchess of Chatillon gave me, no way agreed with the Abbot Fouquet's Oaths: So that without examining any farther, whether it were true or no, I desired him to refrain all manner of Visits for the future. He obeyed me; still protesting at his departure, that he had done nothing but what Madam de Chatillon had ordered him to do.  
So soon as he was gone, I immediately sent away to Madam de Chatillon the Letter which had been the cause of so many bad Effects. Which Letter the Abbot Fouquet had devised on purpose to decoy me into his Lodging, with a design to have told me more of his mind when opportunity should assist him.  
However, Madam de Chatillon being persuaded that I had acted by consent with the Abbot, as yet continued to harbour a Conceit that I had contrived the Letter in my own justification; nor would she begin to do me justice, till she saw me persevere in my Resolution never to return to that Lodging again. But afterwards the Abbot himself fully undeceived her, by confessing that he had counterfeited the Letter, to the end I might be in a Place where I might be more at liberty to look after my Affairs: Adding withal, that he had not made use of that Artifice, but only to oblige me to accept of the Lodging.  
But the World judged otherwise of the matter: For it was the public Discourse, that I had been engaged in an Amorous Intriegue with the Abbot, but that being weary of me, he had turned me out of his House. And thus I underwent both the Shame and Mortification to be looked upon as a Mistress abandoned by her Gallant.  
Madam de Chatillon, and the Abbot Fouquet, endeavoured in vain to undeceive the Public. All the Favour which they, who believed I left the House by my own Choice, did me, was to say, I had not done it, but to avoid the Prosecutions of my Mother and my Husband.  
'Tis true, that They, no sooner both of 'em understood that I lodged in a House that belonged to Abbot Fouquet, and which he furnished for me at his own Charges, but they presented a Petition against me, and they were just upon the point of obtaining leave to seize me when I left those Lodgings. I had notice of it, and I thought it my best way to conceal myself. For I suppose that no body would have advised me to have delivered myself up to the Hatred of a Mother, and the Jealousy of an Enraged Husband.  
So soon as Madam de Chatillon was fully convinced of my Innocence, she employed all her Credit and Friends in my behalf; and she had enough to procure me an Injunction to stop all farther Prosecutions against me. By this means she set me at liberty to appear and solicit a legal Separation from my Husband. She recommended me to a Magistrate who promised to assist me, and who took upon himself the management of my Business. I had also a yearly maintenance of a Thousand Crowns allowed me by Decree, which secured me from the Gripes of Want; all which I should have done at my first coming to Paris. But though I could have spared for no pains, how could I ever hope to have brought it to pass, when I had neither Protection nor Friends?  
The Magistrate with whom Madam de Chatillon had brought me acquainted, provided me a Lodging in the House of one of his Kinswomen; where he came to me every day, and gave me an account of what he did for me. So that I blest myself that I had got for my Friend a Person whose Zeal appeared so fervent. Therefore it was that I wholly relied upon him for the management of my Affairs; and gave myself up to enjoy the Repose which I had been so long deprived of.  
But this Magistrate had another aim; for he insensibly gave me an occasion to discover that my Person was no way displeasing to him; nor was I at all alarmed at his good Opinion. On the other side, I was extremely glad of it; imagining that his Zeal being enlivened by Love, my Business could not go amiss.  
He had a proper handsome Son already in the King's Service, and who went by the Name and Title of Marquis of St. Albe: He was brisk, polite, and witty; he came frequently to his Kinswoman's House, where he had a fight of me, and soon became his Father's Rival.  
The method of Courtship which these two Lovers took was very different. The Son always respectful, durst not open his Lips to speak of his Passion: The Father emboldened by the Services he did me, never scrupled to discover his love to me. I than began to repent of delivering up into his Hands the whole management of my Suit; but 'twas now too late. He was become master of it; and I could not be without him.  
I therefore lent him a patient Ear, and heard with moderation a Language which my Misfortunes had rendered odious to me; and I forbore all manner of Ralliery to a Person, whom it became me to be careful of displeasing. Nor could I put him quite out of hopes, for fear of exasperating him against my Interests; believing that by keeping him in suspense, I should engage him to serve me: But this Conduct of mine produced a contrary effect. He persuaded himself, that since I heard him with so much calmness, I had an inclination for him; and with these thoughts he redoubled his Assiduities, and pressed me to declare myself. I must confess, that till then, I saw no great harm in his Addresses, which were rather a diversion to me. But now I began to dread the Consequences of such an Amour. And indeed, considering these new attacks upon my Reputation, I had reason to be of this opinion, That whatever good Intentions a Woman might have, it was always dangerous to her Honour to suffer herself to be beloved.  
His Solicitations became so earnest, and his Importunities so pressing, that I knew not what course to take, that I might be rid of him. My first thoughts prompted me to let him plainly understand the vanity of his Hopes: But then considering he was a Person I stood in need of, I altered my mind, and took a Resolution, which in truth I ought not to have taken. For I made him believe I was not insensible of his love, and constrained myself to suffer it with some compliance. This way of proceeding augmented his foolish Hopes, and within a few days after he had the boldness to let me understand as much. Had I not been restrained by Honour and my Duty, yet my aversion for him would have preserved me from offending: For the Extremities wherewith I was threatened, seemed to me less severe than the Compliance which he demanded. So that I gave him all the Ill Language that Anger and Contempt could inspire into my thoughts, and desired him to meddle no more with my Business. And to the end I might wholly disengage myself from him, and deprive him of all opportunities of seeing me, I was preparing to leave his Kinswoman's House; when a new Accident befell me.  
The Young Marquis of St. Albe was beloved by a Damsel that waited upon his Mother; I know not what passed between 'em; but this Maid perceiving that her Lover began to neglect her since his acquaintance with me, she resolved to watch him. Now it happened one day that she found a most tender and passionate Letter which he had written, with a design perhaps to have put it into my hands. However it were, the Maid ne'er questioned but that it was intended for me; and to punish me for having got her Lover away from her, in the height of her malice she resolved to answer it in my name; wherein she made me write whatever was proper to make the World believe that I loved St. Albe as much as I was beloved by him. And to suppress all proof of the falsehood of the Letter, which was none of my Hand, she gave it out that I had reasons for what I did. This was but a shallow Contrivance: However, it passed among those who only sought to put me to trouble.  
The Maid, who made use of this Stratagem, was not ignorant of my being beloved by the Father of her Gallant, because she was her Mistress' Confident, who being naturally of a jealous humour, had the Curiosity to have her Husband watched; and you may be sure she was nothing sorry to have an opportunity to plague him. She therefore jeered him every day with his affection for me; and to let him see how unfortunate he was in his Courtships, she showed him the Letter which his Son had written to me, and my pretended Answer to it. The Father, who was already jealous of his Son, was fully convinced of the truth of his Amour when he read those Letters. He never troubled himself to examine a Story that was so sillily contrived; but overjoyed that he had got proofs of the secret correspondence between me and his Son, he resolved to observe no measures of civility with me, and flew out into a most violent Rage against his Son. In vain his Friends persuaded him to more mild and gentle Sentiments. This unnatural Father, who by his Credit, and his Office, had Authority enough to bring about his unjust Designs, threw his Son into Prison, never considering the indignity of such usage. For in short, St. Albe was already an Officer, had Courage, and was well esteemed in his Regiment. Nor was he content with punishing St. Albe; but comes to me on purpose to affront me. He upbraided me with debauching his Son, and let go a Torrent of Injurious Language, and as he went out, told me that I deserved no less to be sent to some House of Confinement.  
I thought at first that he himself had counterfeited those Letters on purpose to pick a quarrel with me: Afterwards I accused his Son to have been the Author of 'em; believing, that in imitation of some Young Sparks, he might have framed 'em, to give himself the Reputation of a Fortunate Gentleman. I was labouring under the violence of these various Agitations, when the Magistrate returned to me again. It seems he had considered that I had said nothing in my own vindication; and therefore it was probable he would have heard what I could say for myself. But I received him with all the disdain imaginable. But I scorned to undeceive him about the Letters, so extravagant he seemed to me in his Behaviour. I only bid him be gone, and trouble me no more with his Impertinences. The next day the Maid, who had been the cause of all this Disorder, seeing St. Albe in Prison, moved with the misfortune of her Lover, came to me and confessed what she had done: And upon her promise to confirm her Confession to me before his Father, I sent for him again. Nor was he long absent; verily believing that I had sent for him back to make my peace with him. He heard the Maid's Recantation; but he would not believe her; at least he counterfeited Incredulity. He asked me, in derision, how much I had given her to make that Confession; farther adding, that he was no Fool to be put upon by my little Artifices▪  
When the Maid was gone, and he saw me alone, he told me, there was but one way to prevent the noise that he was going to make in the World; that he needed not to interpret what he meant; for that I knew well enough what it was he desired. 'Twas in vain to tell him, that the course he took to gain my Love, was the only way to make me hate him. He continued obstinate in his impertinent Pretensions; telling me, that men of the Long Robe were not Persons that used to be foiled in their Undertake. In short, he forced me by his insolent Language, to return him as bad; to which he replied with Menaces and Reproaches, swearing as he went out, to acquaint my Mother and my Husband with my Irregular Actions.  
I went immediately to give the Duchess of Chatillon an account of every thing that had past. She spoke to the Magistrate, and with a great deal ado obtained so much favour from him, as to promise her that he would make no noise, nor show my Mother the Letter which he had in his custody. However, the Villain told the Duchess so many plausible Stories concerning my pretended Intriegue with his Son, that she firmly believed him; so that I was forced to endure the Sermons that she preached to me upon Folly and Indiscretion. 'Twas in vain to assure her that the Magistrate was a wicked Fellow, and that I resolved to stay no longer in his Kinswoman's House. She laid before me the need I had of him, and scared me with the fear of his Revenge. I found myself then reduced to a necessity of dissembling; so that we patched up a Reconciliation, upon condition that he should speak to me no more of his Passion. He promised me so to do, though resolved not to keep his word, and more obstinate than ever to make an ill use of the need I had of him.  
In the mean time, the Unfortunate St. Albe took a resolution to write to me, and begged of me that I would endeavour to procure his Liberty. Moved therefore with his Sufferings, and forgetting the just Reasons I had to refrain from meddling in his Business, I listened to my Compassion. I sent imprudently to his Mother the Letter which he had written to me, and wherein he made me a lively description of his Ill usage. I made no question but that her heart would have been mollified with reading it; but she was more jealous than compassionate, and preferred her desire to embroil me again with her Husband, before the care of delivering her Son from his oppression. She showed her Son's Letter to her Husband; which proved the cause of a new Prejudice against me. For the Father reassumed his first Fury, and swore he would ruin me, if I did not shun his Revenge by satisfying his Passion. I likewise acquainted Madam de Chatillon with this Accident, who blamed me for receiving and showing St. Albe's Letter; and told me I must get out of this Labyrinth as well as I could.  
Now then to get rid of the Magistrate, a certain Stratagem came into my head that brought me into new trouble. I made a show of surrendering to his Importunities, and I promised him a meeting the next day at a Place appointed. But I went the very same day to his Wife, and made her acquainted with her Husband's Follies, and the meeting wherewith I had flattered his Hopes. I thought it might be permitted me, considering my Circumstances, to take this Course, seeing that his Wife had let lose all her fury against me; and gave out that I had as much kindness for her Husband, as indeed I had a real aversion for him.  
I thought, to the end I might undeceive her, that it would be my best way to inform her of what passed between us; which I did, withal desiring her to give our meeting an interruption, and affording her all the opportunities of doing it.  
This Woman, who imagined that this was not the first meeting I had given her Husband, thought at first I had entrusted her with a false Secret; but at length she was convinced of my Sincerity. She thanked me then for the Advice I had given her, and assured me she would do what I desired. But her mismanagement of the Affair turned the innocent means which I made choice of to disincumber myself from my Persecutors, to my prejudice.  
I was hardly arrived at the Place appointed for my meeting the Magistrate, but she appeared, bringing along with her two other Relations, who were to be Witnesses of this Adventure.  
This Scene would have been a diversion to me, had I not thought, that they who were to be Testimonies of her Husband's Shame, might be likewise Witnesses against myself; and that it was impossible but that an Affair that would be known to so many People, must expose my Reputation after a most cruel manner. The Wife also, who would have it thought that this was not the first time her Husband had broke his Conjugal Covenant, instead of informing her Witnesses that I had acquainted her with the Assignation, told 'em quite the contrary, and bestowed upon me a liberal share of the bad Language which she gave him. The Husband all in confusion sneaked out of the Room without speaking a word: At what time I thought the least thing the Wife could have done would have been to have given a fair Testimony of my Innocency to the People whom she brought along with her. But she was as wicked in her Generation, as her Husband was in his; for she upbraided me before their faces with debauching her Husband. This Adventure presently took wing, and the Public that already had a prejudice against me, made no scruple to believe me engaged in a re●l Intriegue with the Magistrate. However, I did what I could to undeceive the two Kinsmen; and they listened to me, believed me, and offered me their Protection.  
The Husband, who had not the least suspicion of my informing the Wife of the Rendezvous, came to see me the next day. But then I told him, I durst not be seen with him any more; conjuring him in the midst of those Extremities to which he had reduced me, to let me understand the condition of my Affairs, since I could not in honour employ him any longer. He bid me not to trouble myself; for he would serve me to the end; that the Adventure the day before was a trifle; and that his Wife was a kind of Beldame, to whom no body gave credit. Then he renewed his Importunities to answer his Desires: But he no longer talked like a Master; nor was I any more afraid of him. Of all this I gave a faithful Account to Madam de Chatillon, who ordered me to leave my Lodging with the Magistrate's Kinswoman, and fell out with the Magistrate himself in such a manner, that she would never suffer him to come near her more.  
But understanding after this, that his Wife had never surprised him at the Assignation, but by the Information that I gave her, he would not let go his hold, resolving to ruin me, or vanquish my Reluctancy.  
In the mean time St. Albe found a way to break Prison; upon which his Father, who was extremely troubled at it, and knew not what was become of him, came to acquaint me with it; and talked to me as if I had had a hand in his Escape; and it was true that it was so reported abroad in the World. For his Father gave out these Reports to scare me, in hopes to overcome me by dint of Defamation; persuaded that I would at length take off my Mask, when I saw myself lost in my Reputation. And this was the only hope wherewith he flattered his Passion for me. But the more he strove to defame me, the less occasion I thought I had given, and the greater was my comfort to find myself innocent: For God had given me the grace to look so many Misfortunes in the face, without losing my Reason. I defended myself from the Accusation of having contributed to St. Albe's Escape, and justified myself with so much the less trouble, because I was ignorant of the means he had made use of.  
And now the Father resolved to make his last Effort for obtaining what he had been so long desiring with so much importunity. To this purpose he came to give me notice that my Husband was just upon the point of obtaining a Sentence in his Suit that would be nothing for my advantage; but that he alone had a Trick to delay Judgement, and that he would assist me in such a manner, that I should gain my Cause, if I would hearken to his Suit. I answered with disdain, that I would with patience wait the end of my Business; and that how unhappy soever my Destiny were, I would rather choose to be unfortunate, then purchase my Repose by so foul a Crime.  
The Lodging where Madam de Chatillon had placed me, when I left the Magistrate's Kinswoman, was a House which had several Lodgers that were not acquainted one with another. I had the first Apartment, and I had no converse with any of the People that lodged in the House. As for Mrs. Laval, she lived with her Husband, who was returned from his Province: 'Tis true, that she frequently visited me, and that was all the comfort I had. At the same time also I hired the Maid again that I brought with me from my Husband's House, and who left me when I went to live with Madam de Chatillon. I must confess, 'tis a pernicious thing to the Reputation of a Young Woman, to keep Servants so full of Mercury as she was. And it should be the first care of a Person of my Sex to avoid entertaining in their Service wild and disorderly Wantoness, and never to be too familiar with Servants, how modest and regular soever.  
This Maid had many ill Qualities, as will appear by the sequel or the Story. Nor had she ever seen St. Albe. which was the occasion of an Adventure which may seem fabulous, but which fell out as I am going to relate it.  
My Maid having frequently heard how eagerly the Magistrate persecuted me with his impertinent Courtship contrived an Enterprise which she never imparted to me.  
She had already got acquaintance with the People of the House; and one day she told me, that there was a very pretty Lady among the rest of the Lodgers who every day very diligently enquired after my health; and manifested an earnest desire to be acquainted with me. I bid her be sure not to bring her to me; for that I resolved to have no converse with Persons that I knew not, having reason to be afraid of every body, in the Condition I was in. Nevertheless my Curiosity led me one day to take a view of her from my Window. 'Tis true, I had not time to examine her well: However, I observed something in her Countenance which methought was not unknown to me; but I could not remember where I had seen her.  
All this while my Maid had laid a Design in her head, which she resolved to put in execution, while I spent the Afternoon with Mrs. Laval. She went to the Magistrate's House, and after she had asked to speak with him in private, she told him, that my unkind usage of him was only to try his Constancy: And moreover, that it was no wonder that I had so scornfully rejected him, since he never made me any Present: That Women were biased by Interest; assuring him that his Courtships would be acceptable to me, provided he would be but liberal. In short, That if he desired that I should comply with his Addresses, he had no more to do, but to come the same day to my Lodging. The Magistrate promised not only not to fail, but to bring Money along with him. The Maid, having thus taken her leave, went to the Young Gentlewoman before mentioned, and proposed to her that she would be pleased to admit, under my Name, and in my Habit, the Visit of a certain Gentleman, whose company was very diverting to me; telling her withal, that if she would do me that kindness, I should look upon it as an infinite Obligation. The Lady made some Scruples at first, but at length accepted the Proposal. She suffered 'em to dress her in one of my Habits; but still while she was dressing, she would still be laughing, as if she had found a mere's Nest. She demanded also the Name of the Man that was to come; but the Maid gave her a wrong Name, which really satisfied the Gentlewoman, to do whatever they desired of her, but still laughing, and telling him that she was never cut out for an Actress.  
Soon after the Old Fornicator of a Magistrate arrived; at what time the Maid going to meet him, and taking him aside, gave him to understand, that before he was to be introduced into the Apartment where I was, I desired him not to meddle with the Window Shutters, but to let 'em be as they were; adding withal, that I had ordered her to take the Money, because it was beneath her to ask for it. Presently he put a Purse into my Maid's hand, and entered my Apartment with all the Joy, which the hopes of a Blessing, from which he thought himself not far remote, could inspire into him. At the same time there was so little light in the Chamber, as would hardly admit the distinction of Objects. However, he could perceive a Young Person, that seemed to him to be very handsome; and being so prepossessed as he was with the Idea of his Pleasure, he never suspected in the least any Trick to be put upon him. He accosted the Lady; but finding her as mute as a Fish, and that he could not get one word out of her Mouth, he began to distrust his Good Fortune: But though she would not speak, as busy as he was about her, he thought he heard her laugh: Upon which he stepped to the Windows to let in the Light; but while he was fumbling about the Shutters, the Lady having opened the Chamber-door, was going to fly for't. Which the Lawyer perceiving, more nimble than she, laid hold of her; but seeing her Face stood motionless, as if he had seen a Medusa's Head; while the Lady wrists herself out of his Hands, and ran up into her own Apartment.  
Down came the Magistrate, and having got his People about him, up stairs he went again, and demanded his Son to be delivered into his hands; his Son, who lay concealed in the House in women's Habit.  
All this while my Maid thought verily that the Magistrate had been stark staring mad; for she was utterly ignorant that the Lady, whom she had got to act my part, was the Unfortunate St. Albe. For it seems that after he had escaped from the Place where his Father had imprisoned him, he had disguised himself in women's Habit, and was come to lodge in the same House where I lay, in hopes that being thus secured from the Persecutions of his Father, he might meet with an opportunity to offer me his Service.  
The Magistrate having caused the Chamber-door to be broken open, St. Albe was delivered into his hands in the same disguise he had on; that is to say, in my clothes. What a dreadful Accident was this for me! Though an Angel should have descended from Heaven to have born witness of my Innocence, he would not have been believed. 'Twas known that St. Albe had a love for me; and he was found lodged in the House where I lay, disguised in Female Habit, and in clothes that belonged to myself. Could any body believe otherwise, but that all this was done by Consent. What a folly was it in St. Albe, since he had taken a Resolution to lie at my Lodging, that he did not sooner make himself known? or at least that he did not refuse to comply with what was desired of him? But he never dreamt of his Father's coming, especially after the Maid had given him a wrong Name: Besides, that his Love made him look upon the man, for whom the Cheat was intended, as a Rival, upon whom he was willing enough to revenge himself.  
During this Hurly-burly at my Lodging, I expected my Maid, whom I ordered to come to me. But being quite tired with staying for her, I desired Mrs. Laval to accompany me to my Lodging. When I came there, the Neighbours told me the whole Story of this Adventure; and my Maid not coming, I thought her afraid to see my face.  
They who heard this Story, made no question but that it was a Contrivance of mine. They thought it had been a Device of mine to make sport with the Magistrate; and gave it out, that I had done it after a very facetious manner; but at the same time, they shrewdly suspected that St. Albe and I were agreed together; and thence inferred that I was an ill Woman for betraying him in that manner to his Father. In short, They thought me to be of the Humour of those Amorous Dames, who care not what becomes of their Lovers, so they may but satisfy their Revenge, or their Divertisement.  
However, the Consequences of this Affair were not so pernicious to me as I imagined. The Magistrate was advised not to make any noise, because he could not do it, without making himself a Laughingstock to the whole Town: And therefore he only gave out, that understanding his Son lay disguised in the House where I lodged, he only went to fetch him thence.  
By this means I found myself delivered from a hateful and importunate Lover. He had no mind to make love any more to a Woman that knew how to play such Tricks as those. So that he only hated me from the bottom of his heart; and the weight of his fury fell upon his Son, whom he caused to be more closely confined.  
All this while my Suit remained in the same condition still; for the Magistrate did nothing for me; and Madam de Chatillon's Interest so far prevailed, that neither my Mother nor my Husband could get any ground upon me. She had so ordered the matter, that none of the most famous Advocates would meddle with the Cause; but still answered my Adversaries when they came to entertain 'em, that it was a Cause no way proper for the Bar; but rather to be ended by a Friendly Accommodation: But because we could not agree upon the Conditions, there was nothing done on either side. However, I still enjoyed my Allowance without seeing either Husband or Mother; though 'tis true, that I took all the care I could to avoid their Company.  
What was become of my Maid all this while, I knew not; nor was I at all sorry to be so rid of her, till I heard how ill a use she made of her Absence to my prejudice: For in all Places where she came, she would be always bespattering my Reputation. And I will tell ye one Adventure, by which you will fully understand the Character of this same wicked Baggage.  
She then perceiving that nothing made the Magistrate so mad as to be imposed upon by one of his own Sex, made sure of a handsome young Female, and persuaded her to take my Name upon her. And thus it was, that she offered me to several Young Sparks at the Court, as a Woman whom necessity had reduced to seek her Subsistence by this way of living. Among the rest, she addressed her helf to Blossac, and told him, that I had been a slave to my Reputation, which was the only Reason that made me refuse the offer of his Purse; but that I would not be so haughty, when I thought myself secure from being known; and provided he had so much discretion as to make a show of being a Stranger to me, that he might assure himself of success. Now in regard that Blossac had never done me the honour to have any great respect for me, he readily gave credit to the Wenches fair Story; and desirous to revenge himself of the Inconstancies which he laid to my charge, he accepted the Proposal, with a design to insult over me. This was doubtless his Intention, because he told the Maid that he would bring some of his Friends along with him, when he gave me the meeting; resolving they should be Sharers with him in his good Fortune. Blossac therefore told his Friend of it, and his Friend told another, and so it spread insensibly all over the Town.  
The Duke of Candale, whom I sometimes met at Madam de Chatillon's, was astonished at the Reports that were spread about concerning me, and was so civil as to believe 'em false. He also informed Mrs. Laval of what he heard, who besought him to let her know his Authors; and he confessed ingenuously that Blossac was his Intelligencer.  
In a word, Blossac had given the Duke an account of the Discourse between him and my Maid; and having also told the Place and Day appointed for the Meeting, the Duke knew not what to think of it; but being desirous to be convinced of the truth, he requested Blossac that he might accompany him to the Assignation.  
Mrs. Laval acquainted me with what the Duke of Candale had discovered to her; nor did we know to whom to impute a Story so extravagant. I confess the first motions of my Imagination accused my Mother and my Husband, whom I saw persisting still so obstinately in their Resolutions to ruin me. But all this while there was nothing of certainty in Surmises.  
In the midst of these Perplexities Mrs. Laval and I were debating which way to put a stop to these violent Calumnies, when word was brought me that the Duke of Candale desired to speak with me. I was glad of the opportunity, in hopes that he might give me some light into these Mysteries. He entered: But seeing that he only talked to me of general Matters, I interrupted him, and asked him the meaning of the many Reports that so terribly attacked my Reputation, and of which he had alreary been talking to Mrs. Laval. Then he up and told me what had passed between him and Blossac, with a farther Account of what had passed between Blossac and my Maid. Adding, with a smile, that he came to see whether I was at home or no; because he had been told I was to have been at another Place; and that Blossac stayed for him to carry him to the Meeting. At length he concluded, that he would still make a show of believing as they did, that he would meet Blossac, and go along with him, and that he would send me word who they were that made use of my Name.  
I was overjoyed to become Mistress of the means that would so suddenly enlighten me into these dark Secrets that had so much disturbed my Rest: And I begged of the Duke of Candale to give me all the clearest Informations he could, that so I might cause Blossac to be surprised in company with the Person that had assumed my Name. I told him of what importance it was to my Reputation, that this Affair should be made clearly out, and conjured the Duke to do me justice. He promised me; but he told me withal, that it would be much more for my Honour that my Husband should surprise Blossac; because it could not be thought but that he knew of the Reports as well as others; that he would go immediately and give him notice that I had given Blossac a meeting, and that it would be no body's fault but his own if he did not surprise me. I approved the Duke of Candale's Design; and so leaving to him the management of all things, I took my leave of him with as much joy, as I was overwhelmed before with sadness and amazement.  
The Duke of Candale so well ordered his Business, that my Husband and my Mother had notice of the Assignation before he met Blossac. And the People whom he employed to carry 'em the News, would not let 'em be at rest, but pealed it in their Ears, that there was no time to be lost: Though indeed they wanted no Spurs, as believing that this Adventure would put an end to their Process; and therefore they resolved not to let me escape 'em this bout.  
In the mean time the Duke of Candale returning to Blossac, told him, that an Accident had fallen out, so that he could not possibly go along with him. Blossac therefore seeing no other remedy, went all alone to the Place appointed, while the Duke followed him at a distance, and kept himself concealed in the Neighbourhood, resolving to be a Witness of what happened. As for my Mother and my Husband, they were so indiscreet as to tell all the World that now they had me safe: So that the noise of their Design ran like Wildfire from one end of the Town to the other; insomuch that they were attended by a Train of several Persons, that laughed in their Sleeves to think they were going to be the Spectators of a strange Sight; that is to say, of a Husband, who was going, as he thought, to convince himself of being a Cuckold.  
Blossac was met by my Maid, and he was hardly entered the Room where the mistaken Gentlewoman stayed for him, but my Mother and my Husband, with all their Troop, were close at his heels. Upon the noise they made, out came my Damsel: She was known, and when they saw her, they made no question I was not far off. Presently the Doors were forced open; but then, to tell ye who looked most like a Changeling of the Two, when they saw themselves both mistaken, would be too hard a Task for me to undertake; 'tis only for you to imagine. My Mother dropped out first, my Husband sneaked out after her, and Blossac followed him, looking all like People upon the News of a great Loss at Sea. So soon as they were gone, the Duke of Candale arrived, and gave order for seizing my Maid and her Coadjutrix; and after he had given farther order that they might be secured, he made haste to my Lodging to acquaint me with the issue of the Adventure.  
I was in hopes this disappointment my Husband had met with, would have been a sufficient Proof of my Innocency, and of the little ground he had for all his Suspicions and Surmises; and I looked upon this Adventure as a finishing Struck, that would have put an end to all my Misfortunes. But People made another interpretation of it. They cried, that all this was but a Trick of my own nimble Wit; and that my Maid, by agreement with Blossac and I, had drawn my Husband and my Mother into this Snare, to make it serviceable toward the gaining of my Cause. In short, the less reason they had to believe I had a share in it, the more convinced they were of my having a hand in it, and the better they judged it carried on: Every body laughed that heard of it, and I only, by it, reaped the Applause of being a Woman of Wit and Address. But that was not the commendation that I sought: I desired only that I might have my due. But 'tis impossible when a Woman is engaged in Concernments that will admit of two Interpretations, to avoid the worst, and enjoy a happy Reputation; 'tis not enough for a Person of my Sex to govern herself according to the Rules of Wisdom and good Conduct; there must be nothing that will carry two Senses in the Accidents of her Life: A Woman must needs be always guilty, when Innocence has need of so many Justifications. Happy those Women who are not exposed to these Inconveniences. A smooth even way of living is the only thing in the World which they ought most of all to desire; and they ought to accustom themselves betimes to look upon Intrigues and Adventures as the Rocks of their Repose and Honour. I myself confirmed the Tour which was given to this Story, by my compassion upon the two Confederates in Custody. For being persuaded that I had no more need of Proof to justify my Innocence, I thought 'em Objects of my Pity; nor could I endure to hear of the Punishments that were threatened to be inflicted upon a Maid that had served me: So I ordered her to be set at liberty, together with her Accomplice. I must confess, I could not have committed a greater Act of Imprudence, and never was Compassion more unseasonable. For then, with much more reason than before, it was adjudged that the Maid had acted by my Orders, when it was known that I was the occasion of her Release.  
I advise no body therefore to do as I did: This Creature became so forgetful of my goodness towards her, that she was afterwards always the first to raise and spread about the Town a hundred ridiculous Stories of me. A Woman who has Servants that expose her Reputation, aught to cause 'em to be punished without mercy.  
My Husband about the same time returned into his Province; whether it were that he could not brook the shame of his last Adventure, or that he thought his absence requisite to make me hearken to an Accommodation; for he began to be a weary of lying alone; and since I had found Money and Friends, my Mother, who could not endure the sight of me in Paris, had persuaded him, that it was for his Interest to be reconciled, and live with me.  
For my own part, I could not take a better Resolution then to consent to such a Reconciliation, had it been only to turn the last Story to my advantage. The World would doubtless have more easily believed that I had no hand in it, had I immediately after returned to my Husband. Well then, he sent a Gentleman to me, one of his Friends, whose Name was Montalzac, with Orders to make me very fair Propositions, if I would forget what was passed. Nor did he only entrust that Gentleman with this Negociation, he also employed an Ecclesiastic, who was a Famous Director. But these two Angels, instead of forwarding this Accommodation, put it farther off, by the different Methods which they took.  
Montalzac had not seen me above twice, before he gave me to understand he was in love with me, and that the only motive that induced him to labour a Reconciliation between me and my Husband, was, because that being his Neighbour, it would be the more easy for him to visit me. As for the Director, he troubled me with long Discourses that were offensive to me: He would be proving in Mood and Figure, that I could not in Conscience live apart from my Husband; and he repeated so many disobliging Stories about my ill Conduct, that he made me mad. I answered him, that I had nothing to do with his long Sermons, and sent him away with great indignation. He was not accustomed to be so rudely handled; but on the other side, had the Reputation of an Oracle in all Pious Negociations which he undertook. So that he looked upon me as a Reprobate: And after he had left me in a kind of Passion, he went and gave out in all Companies where I came, that my heart was hardened, and that I would die in my Iniquity. Of all the People that ever attacked my Reputation, no body did it with more malice, nor more elaborately than this devout Ecclesiastic. He thought he did God good service in defaming me; and I quickly found myself become a Prey to the fury of False Zealots, who cried out that I was a gangrened Member that was to be cut off from the rest of the Body. Such sorts of Zealots are never to be employed in Affairs of the same nature with mine; at least they ought to be instructed before they go to work, that Mildness and Patience are the most approved means to obtain success; and operate much more effectually than the Transports and Invectives of an over-passionate Zeal. 'Tis a strange thing that they, who, by reason of the Confidence which their Profession demands▪ aught to be the most sparing of the honour of their Neighbour, should be, as generally they are, the first that rend and tear it with most inhumanity. A Director, by virtue of his Office, will never pardon those by whom his Zeal is ill received: And Zealots, like the Person whom we speak of, are seldom soft and charitable, but when they are flattered and applauded.  
As for Montalzac, so soon as he had discovered his Passion to me, I began as soon to suspect all the Advice he gave me: And for fear that by admitting his Visits, he might think I had some intention to flatter his Hopes, I told him, I would acquaint my Husband with his audacious discovery of his Amorous Sentiments to his Friend's Wife: And that notwithstanding my real Inclinations to an Accommodation, I would defer it till he had a more faithful Friend for his Neighbour. Montalzac, fuming, to see himself so disdainfully rejected, resolved to observe all my motions, and to inform my Husband of every step I took; which he did exactly; but still setting out the most innocent things in what Colours he pleased. Thus let a Woman be never so discreet and wary, 'tis impossible she should avoid the strokes of Scandal and Calumny, when she is so unfortunate as to be beloved by wicked People.  
While they were thus labouring to reconcile me to my Husband, I had a greater desire than ever to be parted from him. The Protection of Madam de Chatillon had procured me the same Favour from Monsieur the Prince. I must confess, that had I not been so powerfully supported, I should have been more willing to have harkened to my Husband's Offers; but all that came near me, persuaded me against 'em; some out of Interest; others because they would not give themselves the trouble to let me see the inconveniences of a Design, wherein I ran the hazard of ill Success. And indeed there are few real Friends, that know how to give Women those Counsels which are most agreeable to their real Exigencies. There was no body but Mrs. Laval, who thought it unfriendly to flatter me. She told me every day, that I could not take a more honourable Course then to live with my Husband; and insisted that it behoved me at least to hear the advantageous Offers which he made me. But I was not then in a condition to relish the solid Reasons with which she supported her wholesome Advice. The ill Usuge which so good a Woman daily suffered from her Husband, made me afraid of the like from mine. I had not as yet learned the Lesson she had done, that the Reputation of a Woman is never secure, when she lives asunder from him, whom God has once united to her. On the other side, I thought I should be happy if I could obtain a Separation; and this was that which I only thought it my duty to labour for.  
St. Albe had still recourse to me under the Oppression of his Father; nor can I deny, but that the respect with which he always accompanied his Passion for me, made me very desirous to be serviceable to him. I imputed all his Father's ill usage of him to myself: I was moved that he should so long disguise himself for my sake; and moreover, I pardoned him all reports to which he had exposed me, in favour of the pleasing Vengeance which he had given me the occasion to take upon his Father's Importunities. I was also good-natured; and tho as yet I fe●●●o motions of affection for him, however I had too ●●●t an esteem for his Person, to refuse him whatever I could in civility contribute toward the making of his Life less miserable. To sum up all in a word, I did not think it was a crime in him to love me, and I thought that an Amour which was no way offensive to me, could be no inducement to hinder me from doing that, which I would have done out of generosity. Thereupon I spoke to Madam de Chatillon in his favour, laid before her the sad condition of the Young Gentleman, and begged of her to make use of her credit in his behalf. She was well pleased that I took his part; however at the same time she made me sensible, that it would be another blot upon my Reputation, should it be known that I had any hand in serving him. Which made me request her to procure St. Albe's Liberty, yet so that I might not be seen in the business. In short, Madam de Chatillon spoke to Monsieur the Prince, who obtained an Order for his Release, and at the same time procured him an Employment in the Army better than that which he had before.  
It was presently the Public Opinion that Madam de Chatillon had never procured St. Albe's Liberty, had it not been at my request. But give me leave to question whether I was to be blamed for concerning myself in his behalf. The Delicacy which I owed my Reputation, did not require me to be insensible of the misfortunes of a Person, who for his merit and his Youth was worthy of compassion. There was not any body but myself to whom he could have recourse; and I never repented of the service I did him. Whatever occasion afterwards it gave to be objected against me as a Crime, it had been a great piece of Cruelty to have abandoned St. Albe in that deplorable Condition wherein he was; especially when it was in my power to relieve him. How careful soever a Woman ought to be of her Honour, I am of opinion that 'tis lawful for her to do a good Action. And when a Woman is defamed upon those accounts, she is only to complain of certain unhappy Circumstances that sometimes will not suffer Women to do good Actions unpunished.  
So soon as St. Albe was got safe out of his Father's Clutches by the Credit of Monsieur the Prince, Public Rumours gave it out more than ever, to be an effect of the love that was between us. This was what his Father spread abroad in all Companies; and Montalzac was no less diligent to inform my Husband of the Common Report. Which obliged me to a steady Resolution never to see St. Albe more: And though I did not think I had deserved any thing of Reproach for having procured his Liberty, yet I thought it my duty to avoid a sort of Visits which would have drawn a Scandal upon me with much more justice.  
But St. Albe had a heart as generous as myself; and as the injury that I might do myself in acting for him, had not hindered me from being serviceable to him; he on his side could not believe, that the wrong which his Gratitude might do me, was a sufficient Obstacle to hinder him from showing it. He thereforefore several times by the Solicitations of others begged the favour of admitting him but to one single Visit: But finding me obstinate in my denial, he resolved to see me whatever it cost him. 'Tis true, I had better have given him admission at first without so much opposition; but my Nicety proved prejudicial to me upon this Occasion.  
At the same time Madam de Chatillon went to her Signiory of Marlou, whither I accompanied her, and where the Abbot Fouquet came often to visit us. Certain it is, that Madam de Chatillon would never have suffered his Assiduities, but because she was unwilling to displease a man who had too much Credit at Court, which is an Argument that she was not so guilty of Coquetry, as a Scandalous Memoir would make her. She was always convinced, since the Adventure of his Lodgings, that the Abbot had a kindness for me; which was the reason perhaps that she carried me along with her to Marlou; in hopes that the Abbot would be more than ever my Servant, or at least that she might put upon my Account the frequent Journneys that he made to Marlou. I conjectured her Design; but I was so highly beholding to her, that I was willing for her sake to expose myself to whatever could be said of me; and I think I had reason to do as I did. There are certain Obligations that will never permit us to be ungrateful; and I should have thought it a ridiculous piece of Niceness to have opposed Madam de Chatillon's Design. I thought it sufficient if I did not contribute by my ill Conduct to the Sinister Constructions which the Journey might produce, if at least such Complacencies might be allowed of without Reproach. In a word, I set myself above all Scruples. These are also Circumstances which it is troublesome for a Woman to be engaged in; and where a Woman cannot do a good Action without losing something of her Honour. But what must she do! She must either renounce the World for good andall, or else resolve to meet with these Inconveniences sometimes.   

Book the Fourth.  
WHILE we stayed at Marlou, the Lord Digby who had hired a House in the Neighbourhood, thought himself obliged to pay a Visit to Madam de Chatillon; but this Visit was attended by so many others, that presently a Report was spread about, that my Lord was in love with her; nor was she sorry it should be imagined that my Lord bent all his Assiduities to her: For than she was in hopes it would not be noised about that she had any kindness for Abbot Fouquet, when she harkened to another.  
The Abbot, at his first coming to Marlou, said nothing to me that seemed to make me any way the Object of his thoughts. But so soon as he perceived that my Lord was in love with Madam de Chatillon, he was desirous to try whether she would not discover some effects of her Jealousy. I understood his Intentions by the continual Complaints he made of her to myself: And it may be well believed that I had no desire to comply with his feigned Affection for me. But the more I was resolved to give him no Answer, the more I imagined it might be lawful for me to carry myself civilly towards him. This engaged him farther than I intended; and things came to that pass, that I thought myself assured that he loved me really. I resolved therefore not to keep him in suspense: For I told him plainly that all his Pains would be in vain. But then I found by Experience, that a Woman hazards her Reputation no less by giving marks of a Passion of which she is not at all sensible, then in declaring an absolute Aversion.  
The Abbot told me, he wondered I made no better use of his kindness, since it was in his power to do me an injury by discovering my private familiarity with one of my Lord's Domestic Servants. Those words surprised me, and I desired him to interpret his meaning, which he refused to do, but flung out of the Room full of despite and anger.  
A little while after I was going to inform Madam de Chatillon of what had passed; but she interrupted me, telling me that I was a Fool, and ran the hazard of ruining myself past all redemption; that it was known that St. Albe was with me every day; and that to the end we might see one another with more convenience, I had ordered him to disguise himself: in short, that he waited upon my Lord in the nature of his Valet de Chambre. I protested to her, that if that were the Business, I knew nothing of it; that I had never seen St. Albe since his being released out of Prison, and that I understood not the meaning of these Discourses.  
However, what Madam de Chatillon told me, was true: For St. Albe, still possessed with his Love, and not knowing what course to take upon my refusal to see him, yet understanding that I was at Marlou, and that my Lord Digby paid frequent Visits to Madam de Chatillon, got into his Service under a borrowed Name. But I had not as yet seen him; he satisfied himself with only seeing me sometimes in the Crowd, waiting for the Opportunity which he sought. However he was known, and upon that it was imagined that we conversed together every Day.  
I begged of Madam de Chatillon, that St. Albe might be spoken to, and desired to be gone, before the Business made any further noise, and that I should be his mortal Enemy if he disobeyed me.  
Upon this Madam de Chatillon sent for St. Albe, and laid before him the Injury which he did my Reputation. But he appeared to her so pierced with sorrow for having displeased me, and so ready to obey, that she took pity of him, and promised him that before she returned to Paris, she would give him an opportunity of seeing me, and immediately sending for me, she left me with him. He threw himself at my feet, without being able to speak one word: On the other side, I had not the power to chide him; I only laid before him the Injuries to which he exposed me by his Follies; and told him, that it behoved him to overcome a Passion that was neither convenient for him or me; that I would be always one of his Friends; but that I should hate him, if he did not apply himself more seriously to the Duty which he owed the King's Service, and made it his endeavour to render himself worthy the Favours which Madam de Chatillon had procured him. This said, away he went, charmed with my gentle reception of him, and as he left me, told me, that he should never be happy, till he had for my sake lost a Life for which he was indebted only to my Goodness.  
However, this could not be carried so privately, but that it came to the Ears of St. Albe's Father and Montalzac; who Both made it their business to publish this Adventure, set forth and garnished with a thousand horrid Circumstances of their own.  
The Abbot Fouquet seeing all his Attempts upon me proved unsuccessful, renewed his Sedulities to declared to Montalzac, that I was sorry my Husband was in such a Humour, for that I was sincerely inclined to a Reconciliation with him.  
Montalzac assured me, that if I would give him any hopes of success in his Amour, he would work my Husband to other Sentiments. This made me bethink myself of managing Montalzac to the best advantage; for I knew he had a great power over my Husband; and I considered, that if he did not accomplish his Negociation, yet that at least I should make it apparent to all the World that I desired an Agreement, by my keeping fair with Montalzac. Therefore I played the Dissembler upon this Occasion; and so forbearing to promise Montalzac that I would reward his Diligence, I left him some glimmering Hopes that I might one day not be insensible of his Passion. From that very moment he imagined that his Person was not displeasing to me. But believing me prepossessed for St. Albe, he required a Promise from me that I would never see him more. To which I returned him an Ambiguous Reply, without any tartness in the least. On the contrary, as if I had been to justify myself in every thing that had been rumoured in the World concerning St. Albe and myself, I told him, that in truth I was beloved by him, but that I had always used him very severely; that my manner of receiving him at Marlou, was a convincing Proof of what I said; that I had forbid him to come near; and that in short, I had quite given over seeing him; when just as I had spoken the words, St. Albe comes into my Chamber.  
I leave ye now to judge at the Trouble and Astonishment I was in; because that really I had not seen St. Albe in a long time before, and that I knew not what was become of him. I spoke to him therefore like one that was heartily angry with him, and bid him be gone immediately. Nor did St. Albe dare to offend me, but retired with all the submission imaginable, begging pardon for his having displeased me. However, his unexpected Arrival persuaded Montalzac that all I had told him was false; and because that St. Albe withdrew so quickly, he thought it to be a Trick concerted between us. Oh, said he in a king of Ironical Ralliery, You are very sincere indeed; who dares question your Virtue? The World certainly does ye a great deal of wrong to suspect your Chastity: In short, he gave me so much offensive Language, that he made me angry. I than repented I had sent away St. Albe, and I was just about to have sent for him back, to let Montalzac see how little I cared for what he thought of me; so true it is, that Women care not what they do, when they are provoked However, I did not recall St. Albe, but satisfied myself with only sending away Montalzac with a befiting Indignation.  
Now as St. Albe went out of the House, he understood that the Person whom he saw in my Chamber was the Marquis of Montalzac, and therefore calling to mind at the same time the ill Offices he had done me, he resolved to wait his coming forth, and revenge the Injuries I had complained of St. Albe never considered the Consequences of what he was going to do, but followed the motions of his Anger. So soon therefore as he saw Montalzac, he closed up with him, and ask him how he durst defame a Lady who deserved to be spoken of with so much respect, he presently forced him to draw his Sword. For some time they sought without any advantage; but at length Montalzac, after he had wounded St. Albe, fell dead at his feet. This Duel was fought almost under my Windows, and the noise with which the People, who, though too late, made haste to part 'em, filled the Street, obliged me to open 'em; where the first sight that struck my Eye, was St. Albe, who, though scarce able to stand, endeavoured to gain the Door of the Hostel ' d' Entragues. I could not be so cruel as to shut it 'gainst him; on the other side, I ran down, and was the first who ordered him to be let in. So soon as he saw me, he fell at my feet, and with a languishing Tone, Madam, said he, I die the happy Person that has revenged the Injuries done you. But I begged the Master of the House to carry him without delay through a Backdoor into a Neighbour's House, where his Wounds were dressed the first time; and from thence I took care to have him removed to another House a little farther off. And by this means it so happened, that the Pursuit, which was after him, could not find him out.  
However, the thing happened at such a time that Duels were punished more severely than ever, and I saw that St. Albe would stand in need of Great Credit to procure a Gentle Prosecution on the King's Side. To this purpose, away I flew to Madam de Chatillon's, and informed her of the whole Adventure. There I luckily met the Abbot Fouquet, who promised me that the Informations should not be given to the Proctor General his Brother, till he had viewed 'em; and that he would so order it, that it should appear as if St. Albe had been first assaulted.  
The Abbot was as good as his word; so that by his Diligence and his Care, no harm ensued, but St. Albe had liberty to appear abroad, so soon as his Health would permit him; his Pardon was procured and dispatched; so that nothing remained of this Adventure, but the Prejudice which it did myself. For how was it otherwise to be believed but that I had a kindness for St. Albe, considering what I had done for him? Nevertheless I only served him out of generosity and compassion, and my Opinion was, that Women, the most severe Professors of Virtue, would have done as much as I did. All the while that St. Albe lay private, I never went to see him. I must confess, I put a constraint upon myself in so doing; because that besides that my Visits might have contributed to his Cure, the love which he testified for me was accompanied with a charming respect and awful submission. Perhaps the greatest part of Women, who enjoy an unbleblished Reputation, would not have been so nice upon such an Occasion.  
Nevertheless, when I considered what the World talked publicly of St. Albe, and myself, it was an affliction to me, and I thought myself unhappy: For in short, St. Albe's uninterested Zeal did me as much harm, as the Character of those who loved me with less niceness. Thus there is no Lover which it does not behoove a Woman to be afraid of, seeing there is so much danger in the Visits of an honest man.  
Now in regard the Abbot Fouquet believed that I had a love for St. Albe, he was no less persuaded that I was greatly beholding to himself, and therefore thought he had a right to demand of me some Marks of my acknowledgement. He told me, that seeing he had for my sake saved the Life of my Lover, he expected from me a piece of Service which I could not deny him without Ingratitude; which was to give him information how Madam Chatillon demeaned herself with the Marshal d' H●quincourt, who for some Months had seemed to be very much her Servant. I made him answer, that I had not yet observed that Madam de Chatillon had any kindness for those that had a love for her, and that she only admitted 'em into her Company out of civility. I added, that it became him better to understand Madam de Chatillon's Character, which was rather to seek the settlement of a Good Fortune, then to live under the uncertainty of Wanton Amours.  
The Abbot de Fouquet told me, he knew that well enough; however, he desired me to do him the favour which he requested of me.  
But though I was obliged to the Abbot Fouquet, yet I thought myself much more beholding to Madam de Chatillon; and therefore I failed not to give her an account of the Trust which the Abbot endeavoured to repose in me. To which, You are not the first, said Madam de Chatillon to me, whom he has tried to engage to inform him of all my Actions. He is a jealous Friend, who cannot endure that any body else should have a kindness for me; and because I cannot love him after such a manner as he desires, he conceits that I reserve that sort of friendship for another. With these thoughts he torments himself; all those that visit me disturb his rest, and upon the least appearance he frames Suspicions to himself, which he will not suffer to be rooted from his mind; he disperses 'em in the world, and finds out people that spread 'em abroad in all Companies. Is it not He who has endeavoured to persuade all the Earth that I love Monsieur de Candale, and Monsieur de Nemours? I do not wonder therefore that the Visits of Marshal d' Hoquincourt alarm him; 'tis the Character which he bears. But you know, added she, the Reasons that induced me to be civil to him: And I must now dissemble. Do you make as if you had never spoken to me; I permit you to give him an account of my Demeanour with the Marshal; but it will be to no purpose for you to tell him the truth; he will never believe ye; he will accuse ye of Dissimulation; for he is a Man who will not be satisfied with any Relations that make his Injustice appear: In a word, 'tis his desire that People should speak ill of me.  
What Madam de Chatillon told me, came to pass; for the Abbot believed I would never betray her; and when I assured him that no man could have a just Suspicion of Madam de Chatillon's Virtue; he told me, he well knew what thoughts it behoved him to have of it, and flew into a passion because I would not tell him an untruth.  
Nevertheless, Madam de Chatillon forbore not to see him, but still admitted his Visits: And this Compliance alone it was which caused her Conduct to be suspected; but for this, she had preserved entire the Reputation which she deserved.  
For my own part, I had still more reason to complain then Madam de Chatillon, being obliged to be careful how I offended my Friends, and finding myself in such a condition as gave opportunities to authorise whatever the World would say of me. For when a Woman lives apart from her Husband, she furnishes Discourse with Weapons against herself; nor is it thought an injury done her to suspect her Behaviour.  
St. Albe was no sooner cured, but his Father died; and happy for him he died so suddenly, that he had no time to make a Will, whereby to disinherit him.  
The first use that St. Albe made of his Inheritance, was to offer it to myself. He wrote to me, that I was Mistress of all his Estate; and desired I would permit him to make it over to me by a Deed of Gift, for a particular Reason. His Friends were all for having him to marry; and in regard it was impossible to consent to any such Proposal, he thought to rid himself of their Importunities, by letting 'em see that he had disposed of his Estate.  
Though this Proposal seemed to be very extravagant, yet I was not insensible of the Gentleman's Generosity. And at the same time I bewailed my Misfortune to be beloved by a man, who, the more capable he was to perform Heroic Actions, the more he prejudiced my Reputation. And how did I expose myself to the Fury of his Relations, when they should come to understand the Design which he had propounded to me! A Rock so much the more dangerous, by how much I felt myself more pleasingly flattered; for I knew then, it would not be possible for me to hate a man that gave me every day new occasions to esteem him.  
Had I not had a thousand Reasons of Prudence and Virtue, yet methought I would not have been without 'em then, to render myself worthy the Sentiments which St. Albe had for me; and I desired no other Proof to justify my Conduct. From that time forward I was convinced, that there was no Woman, let her have but never so little Reason, that can deny herself not to be touched with Principles of Honour, when she is beloved by a Man who only deserves to be the Object of her Affection. And if we meet with Women every day who are somewhat nice in fixing their Amours, 'tis because they can find no Person who merits a more refined Delicacy. For generally the Character of those by whom they are beloved, is that which procures 'em their happy or unhappy Destiny; and nothing teaches 'em their duty better, than a Lover who understands the performance of his own.  
That which St. Albe did on his part, taught me what it behoved me to do on mine. I resolved not only to refuse his Offers, but also to oblige him to marry. I sent him word, that he would ruin me by doing what he intended; but if he desired I should have a kindness for him as long as I lived, that it behoved him to comply with the Desires of his Relations; which I conjured him to accomplish, by the care it became him to have of my Reputation.  
My Answer afflicted him; he fell sick; and during his Sickness he wrote me several Letters, wherein he endeavoured to persuade me to consent to the Deed of Gift. But I resolutely refused him; and wrote to him fresh Exhortations to marry, unless he had a mind to lose my Favour for ever. And indeed it was easy to be seen, that I could never have avoided the Persecutions of his Family, had they had the least intimation of his Design.  
As for the Donation, I suppose he considered the ill consequences that would infallibly have attended it, and therefore never spoke to me more concerningit; but he sent me word that he could not resolve to marry; for that seeing I had refused him, he valued no body else beside. And the pleasure which this Sentiment infused into me, hindered me from opposing it, which was the reason that I could not avoid being made the Object of what the Malice of his Relations could throw upon me.  
For in regard that they were very earnest with him to marry, and so much the rather, because a considerable Match was offered him, which they were afraid of missing, they imputed his refusal of it to me. So that his Kindred being prepossessed with that Opinion, broke all the Laws of Decorum with me, and fell upon my Reputation with all the cruelty imaginable. On the one side they sent to my Husband, and pealed it in my Mother's Ears that St. Albe kept me; and on the other side they haunted St. Albe with ridiculous Stories of my pretended Amours. And things were carried so high, that a Great Lord, who had a mind to marry his Daughter to St. Albe, proposed the sending me away to my Husband by force, which I had notice of; and upon that, falling out with St. Albe in good earnest, I sent him word that I would hate him, and never see him more, if he did not comply with the Desires of his Friends.  
He tried divers ways to dispense with this Necessity; but seeing that the longer he delayed his Marriage, the more bitterly they inveighed against me, he promised to marry the Party proposed to him: He went to see her, and the Articles of the Contract were soon signed.  
After he had given me this proof of his Submission, he begged leave that he might pay me a Visit; nor did I think it proper to refuse him. He came to me with such a face of Grief, as made me repent of what I had exacted from him; nor could I dissemble how great a Sharer I was with him in his Sorrow. But in short, said I, there is no other way for you to assure me of your Love. Marry then; and to complete the proof of your Affection for me, you must likewise love the Person whom you are going to marry; and as you demean yourself to her, I shall judge of your love to me. But have a care how you behave yourself with the least scorn and contempt, for the reason of it will be presently conjectured. Well, Madam, replied St. Albe, with a sigh, I will do what whatever you command me; but my Relations and my Wife shall know, that 'tis to you they are beholding for it; and upon condition that they come and ask you pardon for the Injuries they have done you. No, said I, that would produce a bad effect; for your Wife will never love ye, when she should come to understand that any other than herself had obliged you to marry her. But as for your Relations, I give you leave to let 'em see that you had all along a kindness for me; nevertheless, that I never was the Woman who gave you bad Counsel. At least permit me, Madam, replied St. Albe, to bring my Mother hither, that she may be acquainted with your Sentiments, and by that means be enabled afterwards to undeceive those who verily believe 'twas you that obstructed my Marriage; for I protest, said he, concluding, that I will never marry, if somebody does not know, that it was only done by your Command. I answered him, that he might bring his Mother to me; and that I would gladly see her, since it was a Satisfaction which he would not be denied.  
Thus St. Albe, by causing this sort of Amends to be made me, thought he had found a means to bind me in a Tie of Friendship with his Mother, that so he might have afterwards opportunities to see me. Nor did he conceal this Inducement from me; and I was sensible of it, because I found that I could hardly dispense with a perpetual absence from him: Besides, that I thought it would be a means to silence the Prittle-prattle of the World, when they should see me in friendship with his Wife, and the rest of his Relations.  
His Mother failed not to come and see me with the first; for since the Adventure that befell her Husband, she had an inclination for me. And and besides that, I was beginning to think seriously of reconciling myself to my Husband. He would have said a great deal more, but I refused to hearken to him, and bid him be gone.  
He returned the next day, but I denied him admittance, and at length he despaired of ever making me alter my Resolution. But when it was known about the Town that I went no more to visit his Wife, 'twas then given out that she had forbid me the House; and this Report confirmed what had been formerly spread abroad concerning me. I must confess I found myself under very unfortunate Circumstances; for I could not carry myself with that circumspectness upon this Occasion, but that some ill interpretation or other would be put upon my Behaviour; so that I rather chose to suffer that it should be said St. Albe had sacrificed me to the jealousy of his Wife, then that it should be reported he had sacrificed his Wife to his Affection for me.  
But when St. Albe began to be assured of my Resolution never to see him more, he laid aside all constraint upon himself, and began to lead his Wife a very ill life: Upon which it was presently given out, that I had advised him to take that Course to satisfy my Revenge.  
So soon therefore as I found that St. Albe neglected to pursue the Counsel I had given him, I began to abate of the good opinion I had of him. He appeared to me to be too much like other men; I accused him for want of Niceness; and I was so unjust as to imagine with myself that his Behaviour offended me: I thought he failed in the respect and value which he owed me; and therefore I resolved to cure him of his Passion; seeing there was no other way to oblige him to live lovingly with a Woman, whom he would have thought sufficiently amiable had he not had a love for me.  
I communicated this Design to Mistress Laval, and we agreed together, that I should make a show of being in love with a Gentleman whose Name was Savigny, with whom I had been acquainted for some time, and whom I frequently saw at Madam de Chatillon's, whose Kisman he was; and that Mistress Laval should go to St. Albe, and tell him as a great Secret, of this new Amour of mine. I was in hopes by this means that St. Albe would have relinquished all his kindness for me, and that he would have lived lovingly with his Wife, when he thought me prepossessed for another. I was too well acquainted with St. Albe's Discretion, not to be afraid lest he should make an ill use of this Confidence, or that it was not in his power to defame me. Which made me determine to give him proofs of this imaginary Intriegue by several Letters which I feigned to have written to Savigny, and which Mrs. Laval was to show St. Albe as one of the greatest Secrets in the World. I must confess, this Artifice lay a little too open to discovery. For they that were but never so little acquainted with me, knew full well that I had no manner of private engagement with Savigny, and that he never came to my Lodging. However, I fancied that St. Albe might suffer himself to be surprised by it; and perhaps it might be no trouble to me to try him that way; or at the worst, I thought that if he discovered the Artifice, he would understand thereby that it was my absolute desire that he would live more lovingly then he did with his Wife, since I made use of so strange a means to oblige him to it.  
A part of what I foresaw came exactly to pass. For it was not in St. Albe's power to have an Opinion meanly favourable of me; since never any man made good the Character of a True Lover better than he did, which is to have an inviolable esteem for the Person whom he loves. But it was not only the value he had for me, that hindered him from giving credit to the Secret that was told him with so much caution; the good Opinion he had of Mistress Laval, would not permit him to believe her. He was convinced that a Woman so much my Friend as she was, could never be induced to betray me; so that he told Madam Laval in plain terms, that he would not believe one tittle of all her Insinuations.  
Mrs. Laval o'erjoyed to find him so honest a Gentleman, acknowledged to him, that I had made use of that means to let him understand how much his Harshness to his Wife offended her.  
St. Albe could not refrain from tears, when he saw that I did the same thing to engage him to his Duty, which others would have done to draw him off from it. And he desired Mrs. Laval to give herself the trouble of delivering me the following Letter.  
I Surrender, Madam, to your Goodness in my behalf. Mrs. Laval can tell ye, that I never hesitated one moment to take your part against yourself. The esteem which I have for you, made me judge at first sight, that you had a design to impose upon me. But undeceive yourself; for nothing shall ever create in me any other Opinion of your Virtue, than what I first conceived, when I sacrificed my heart and Life to your Service. I shall submit to what you enjoin me: However, permit me to beg of you, in recompense of this Sacrifice, a share in your heart: I cannot forbear admiring it; and I suffer extremity of pain, because I cannot deserve it. Assist me to support the Misfortune to which you condemn me, in obliging me to show another what I can never be truly sensible of for any but yourself: Convince me from time to time that you have not quite forgotten me; and suffer me to flatter myself that I should have been more happy, if your Duty and mine would have allowed me that felicity.  
Mrs. Laval delivered me this Letter, and she wept when she gave me an account of what she had observed of Great and Heroic in the Sentiments of St. Albe. We both together admired and bewailed the unhappy▪ Chance of my Destiny, which made so many People cherish such bad Opinions of me, those especially among whom I endeavoured to gain that esteem which I thought was due to me, while the only Person that I would have had prepossessed against me, could not suffer an ill thought concerning me to enter his Breast.  
How happy should I have been, said I to Mademoisel Laval, if all men were of his Character! Alas! why are they not so?— what a detestable inclination have they to judge amiss of Women? At least, added I, since I have met with one who partakes not either of their Blindness or Malignity, it is but just that I should have an esteem for him only, and this is that I will do the whole remainder of my Life. Happy if they who were the Authors of my first Affections had resembled him. But no, replied I presently, it would have vexed me to the Soul, if ever any other but St. Albe had merited an esteem which I would have bestowed upon another. Well, said Mrs. Laval, but what at length is your Resolution? Will you grant him his Request? will you let him hear from you sometimes? Alas, replied I, wherefore should I not? Can I do too much for a man that thinks nothing too good for me? Go, find him out, I conjure ye, and tell him he may reckon upon what ever I can grant him without prejudice to my Duty; and if ever I come to be in a condition— But stay, replied I as soon, we must not flatter ourselves with idle Hopes— tell him I am wholly his— provided that he never sees me, and that he never requires any Letters from me; which though they may be altogether innocent, will however render me suspected. You have much ado, replied Mrs. Laval, to take any Resolution, Madam— for my part I advise ye not to send to him at all; but to wait till he performs what he promises to ye, and that an opportunity present itself to let him know how sensible you are of it. I submitted to her Advice; though I must acknowledge, that had Mrs. Laval but never so little inclined to have given me other Counsel, I should without delay have taken it; and it may be I might not have been sufficiently▪ Mistress of myself, to have prevented the declaring to him the entire Passion I had for him.  
If I had reason to be satisfied with St. Albe's Letter, I was much more pleased with him, when I understood his kind demeanour toward his Wife. He was so careful in his behaviour, so full of respect and complacency, that he was become a Model for all Husbands. Whatever passion I had for him, I had no inclination to be jealous of him: And I thought myself so well acquainted with St. Albe's Character, that I attributed to myself whatever he did for his Wife.  
But the World made another judgement of the Matter: People believed that St. Albe's kindness to his Wife proceeded from his being separated from my Company: And they cried, there was all the reason in the World to remove me from him, seeing it was I who set 'em formerly at variance.  
St. Albe was at his Wit's end when he heard 'em talk at this rate; but he durst not undeceive 'em; for that if he intended to live in peace with his Wife, and follow exactly my Advice, it behoved him to be careful how he discovered me to have any hand in the change of his Humour.  
But Madam de St. Albe, being fully persuaded that her Husband's kindness to her was only due to her own Merit, was the first that railed against me in all Places. 'Tis true, she was more reserved in the presence of her Husband, before whom she durst not so much as utter my Name, for fear of recalling to remembrance what was passed. Of this every body informed me, and advised me to ask St. Albe the reason of it. But I had no mind to do it, and I found myself inclined to speak as much good of her, as she spoke ill of me. I must confess, this Moderation deserved no great applause; for methought, that a Woman under my Circumstances could not well do otherwise; besides that I loved St. Albe too well, not to pardon the Tittle-tattle of his Wife, upon whom I could not be revenged, without setting 'em again together by the Ears.  
About this time he was engaged to go to the Army; and because he thought my Allowance not sufficient to maintain me, he found out Monsieur Brice, who was entrusted with the payment of it; and putting a considerable Sum into his hands, he desired him to let me want for nothing; and so to manage the Business, that I might think myself beholding only to Mr. Brice. And he, was so exact in the performance of what St. Albe had recommended to his care, that I was a long time ignorant whence this Generosity proceeded. But when I understood it, my esteem and my love increased for a man so worthy to be beloved. I must acknowledge I needed no new Testimonies of his Merit to make me resolve to love him as long as I lived: I was fully determined upon that already; but at the same time I promised myself to do nothing for him but what might correspond with my Duty. The innocent Pleasures of loving St. Albe, and being beloved by him, was my comfort in the midst of all my Sufferings with which my froward Destiny afflicted me; and whatever compassion the recital of my Misfortunes drew upon me, I thought it a thing to be really envied, that I should have the happiness to meet, in the Person of St. Albe, with a Lover worthy to possess my heart, and in the Person of Mrs. Laval, with a Friend that so well merited my Confidence.  
St. Albe's absence gave his Wife her full liberty to exercise her hatred against me: Nothing pleased her so much as to hear my Conduct ill spoken of. Her Gossips, who understood her Sentiments, fed her Malice with their compliance; so that at length she resolved my ruin to all intents and purposes. And to bring about her Design, she bethought herself of contriving several Letters of her own head, wherein she stuffed a world of horrible Fictions relating to Mrs. Laval and myself. These Letters she put into the hands of the Director, of whom I have already made some mention; who believing that the Glory of God required him to be revenged upon me for slighting his Admonitions, showed 'em with a hypocritical gravity to Mrs. Laval's Husband, and after that to my own Husband, and my moth. Nor did he stop there, but found a way to have the Queen informed of my loose behaviour, with an humble Petition that she would be pleased to interpose her Authority to remedy those Disorders which he could not but lament; and of which he might have easily seen the falsehood, would he but have taken the pains to examine by whom those Letters were written. But Prudence and Charity are Virtues to which Hypocrisy is a Stranger.   

Book the Fifth.  
WHEN Reputation is become a prey to the indiscreet Zeal of counterfeit Godliness, the Mischief is without a Remedy. The Letters before mentioned made a most terrible noise; and Madam de Chatillon informed me that the Queen had been made acquainted with 'em, and that she had been importuned for an Order to have us Both confined, Mrs. Laval and myself. All this was done by the pious Care of the Director before mentioned, as I have already said. And I made no question but that our Enemies had obtained their desires, had not Madam de Chatillon been so kind as to undeceive the Queen. But she justified me in such a manner, that the Director could do us no harm.  
In the mean time Madam de Chatillon advised us to betake ourselves to some Convent, till our Husbands could be brought either by fair or foul means to do us justice. Which Advice we followed; and I can say we did it without reluctancy.  
After this I made it my business to bring my Suit to an end. To which effect Madam de Chatillon took the pains to speak to my Judges, and the Cause was just ready for judgement, when my Mother came to me, and proposed an accommodation between me and my Husband. I was apt to believe that my Mother did this of her own head, without any Order from my Husband: She was afraid, lest having such powerful Friends at Court as I had, that I should have obtained an absolute Separation, and lived continually at Paris; where, for her that still aspired to go for a young Widow, a Daughter of my years was the most mortifying Sight in the World, and therefore she would fain have got me out of the way: But she did not find me to be in such haste to correspond with her Desires. I told her that I had been too much abused to be satisfied with a private Agreement, and therefore I would be justified in Public: Which Answer did not a little exasperate her against me, so that we parted no way satisfied one with another. But for my part, I must confess 'twas not so much my Husband's ill usage, and my Mother's unkindness which obliged me still to thwart her in what she desired: I was mad that a Mother, who had always forsaken me when she saw me without support, should make her Applications to me, when she saw I had no more need of her.  
Therefore, as I said before, I moved every day by my Counsel for Sentence in my Cause, and was just upon the point to obtain it, when the Death of my Husband put an end to the Suit after an unexpected manner. He was returned home with an intention, as they said, to have suborned Witnesses against me; at what time he was seized with a sudden Sickness, that gave him no time to do me justice. However, he declared before his death, that he repented of his unkindness to me; that he had been jealous without a cause of my behaviour, for which he blamed himself; and that he desired that all the World might know, that I was innocent of all those things which Scandal had laid to my charge, and of which he confessed himself to be the chief cause.  
The Tidings of his Death reached first my Mother's ears before they came to mine, so that she made more than ordinary haste to inform me of it, and it would have been a difficult thing to have added any thing to her Demonstrations of Joy and Tenderness. All the Ladies in the Convent came to compliment me upon the News. But then I, who took notice that I was looked upon before by the same Persons as a Woman whose company they rather suffered, then were pleaed with among 'em, was struck with admiration at their Civilities, and how much they congratulated themselves, that I had done them the honour to make choice of their House for my Abode.  
The first Counsel that my Mother gave me, was to go forthwith into the Province, and look after the fair Estate which my Son was then Heir to: But the Death of another Person, which happened almost at the same time, changed my Fortwe much more to my advantage. For my Brother being about Fifteen years of Age, had overheated himself in the College, and dying of a Pleurisy, left me the sole Heiress of a considerable Fortune.  
My Mother was so grieved for the loss of my Brother, that I thought she would never have survived him. I offered her all the Consolation that I could give her, and might have been a comfort to her, would she but have done me that justice that would have made me capable of being so; but I endeavoured in vain to persuade her, that she should regain in me what she had lost in my Brother: She had the same Sentiments of me as formerly; whether it were, that she imagined her former Harshness to me would not permit me to love her, or that she still continued her malicious Inclinations to ruin me.  
The change of my Fortune was so much the more acceptable, as being that which I the least expected. The first thing then that I did in this same Exaltation of my Fortune, was to bethink myself of a way to make Madam Laval some satisfaction for the Obligations she had laid upon me. I reconciled her to her Husband, to whom I lent a considerable Sum of Money to buy an Employment in the King's Household; but he lived not long in his new Advancement. After that, I would have provided an advantageous Settlement for Mrs. Laval; but she testified so great a desire to live with me, that I consented to it; so much the rather, because I was assured of her Sincerity, and that she had a more than ordinary love for me.  
While I was giving these demonstrations of my Gratitude, the World, accustomed to empoison all my Actions, failed not to give out, that I had procured an Employment for Mrs. Laval's Husband for no other reason, but because I was in love with him. But I shall not need to say any thing in contradiction to such an irrational Calumny.  
As for St. Albe, I had still a passionate love for him; and I answered the marks of Tenderness which he continually gave me, as much as Decency and Decorum would permit me. It may well be thought that the change of my Fortune was no small pleasure to him: And I must confess, that when I found myself my own Mistress, I repented that I had obliged him to marry; I should have been overjoyed to have made him a Sharer with me in my Estate. 'Tis true, he was not my Equal in Quality, nor rich enough to pretend to marry me; but what he had done for me, and the respect with which he had always accompanied his Passion, made me believe that there was no Person but he in the World who was worthy of me; but there was no ground for me to give him any such hope. On the other side, I thought, that if I gave him an occasion for the least Presumption, it would but serve to augment his Misfortune, and create in his Breast a greater contempt of his Wife: Therefore I resolved to conceal from him more than ever the Sentiments of kindness which I had for him. I paid him exactly what I thought was due to him, and in my Turn offering to him my Estate to be wholly at his Service, I desired him to allow me an opportunity to testify my Gratitude to him. But at the same time I conjured him to use all his Endeavours to stifle a Passion, which would but only serve to render him unhappy.  
He loved me with so much delicacy, that he durst not contradict the Resolution which I seemed to have taken to forget him: How unwilling soever he was to receive the Money which I sent him, he only accepted it for fear of displeasing me; and fearing lest the outward marks of his Love should prove at length offensive to me, he took a Resolution to dissemble it as much as he could, and consenting to my Resolution neither to see him, nor admit his Visits; he only sent me word that his Love should last as long as he lived, but that he would never give me an occasion to complain of him.  
This Submission of his, rendered him still more dear to me; and if it were my grief that I could not do for him what I would, it was my equal joy that I had in him a Lover who was proof against all Trials.  
There are but few Women, perhaps, who are capable of containing themselves within those bounds which I prescribe myself; perhaps, because they know not how to relish what is most exquisite in the pleasure of being beloved. For my part I am of opinion, that a Woman may dispose of her Love with her Duty, yet have nothing to upbraid herself for so doing.  
Soon after the Death of my Husband I had several considerable Matches propounded to me by several People. However, what I had suffered during my first Nuptials, or rather my love for St. Albe, made me reject all their Proposals.  
Then no body made any scruple of keeping me company, or of professing themselves to be my Friends. For I was rich, and my Wealth had quite defaced the remembrance of whatever had been invented to my ruin. Then I understood the humour of the World: They who had the most defamed me, were the first that sought my Acquaintance; and swore that they never gave credit to the Stories published by my Enemies. But I was nothing dazzled with this Change; I knew still how to distinguish People that had been kind to me in my Misery, from those that only flattered my Abundance.  
The Affairs wherein the Death of my Husband had involved me, obliged me to take a Journey into the Province, where my stay was longer than I expected: And passing through Lions, I understood that the Duke of Candale lay there so desperately sick, that he was quite given over. Touched with this News, and forgetting then the Reasons which I had to believe him none of my Friends, I only remembered what he had done for me, and I thought it my duty to offer him my Service in the Condition he was in. So soon as he perceived me, he could not forbear ask me pardon for not having sent to me in so long time; and he told me, sighing, that it had been his misfortune not to know his Real Friends. I answered him, that I would freely pardon him what was past, provided he would but strive to recover his Health. He replied, he was sensible he should die, but that he was glad that Death had given him so much time as to assure me, that he always had a greater esteem for me then for any other Woman. After that, he told me what Women he had loved; and I perceived I was not the only Woman to whom he had proved inconstant. Oh! if I might but live a little longer, cried he, I would make known to the World, that there are Women both of merit and virtue; and my Example should undeceive all those who are the cause of the Injuries that are done 'em. I could not forbear weeping, seeing him persuaded that he was going to die: He also wept himself; and our Tears made People believe that there had been a mutual Amour between us.  
Thus what I did out of mere gratitude for the Duke of Candale, turned to the prejudice of my Reputation after a strange manner. So true it is, that when a Woman is unfortunate, she cannot do a good Action, which shall not be construed in a bad Sense. For presently it was spread abroad, that I had been driven out of the Duke of Candale's Chamber as an Object that terrified his Conscience. But what will not People say▪ when they have a mind to defame a Woman! However, I was little moved with these Rumours. For because I was not conscious of what they laid to my Charge, I thought it my duty to neglect 'em. Nor was it a wonder that I was not more cautius for the future than I had been till that time. My Innocence hindered me still from keeping a guard upon myself, and was the first cause of the Attacks that were made upon my Reputation. I should have been more studious of outward Appearances, had my Desires been more irregular. But Hypocrisy and Grimace seemed to me the most unworthy of all Vices: I was ignorant how much People have need of 'em in their Conversation in this World.  
I met in the Province a Lady whose Misfortunes had rendered her no less illustrious than myself: And because I undertook to write these Memoirs for no other reason then to prove that People are frequently mistaken in the judgements which they make concerning Women, I thought it proper in this Place to relate the Story of this Lady, by which it will be seen how deceitful outward Shows are; and I shall set it down in the following words, as she repeated it herself.  
When the Duke of Beaufort, said she, first made his Applications to me, I was ambitious enough to wish him for my Husband; and I flattered myself with those hopes, because he gave me some reason so to do. The Duke of Nemours his Brother in-Law, at the same time also testified a very great Passion for me; and doubtless I had had a greater love for the Duke of Nemours, but he was married, and I was too proud to hearken to a Lover who could not be my Husband. Therefore I gave an ear to the Duke of Beaufort, and endeavoured to separate him from the Duke of Nemours. Now it was the less known that either the one or the other courted me, because all People were persuaded that they were otherwise engaged; nor was it believed they had any other Quarrels than such as frequently divided the whole Court, and of which the two Ladies, with whom they seemed to be in love, were the occasion. The Duke of Beaufort also promised to marry me, so soon as he had brought about a Design which he had in his head, and which he imparted to me.  
The Promise of a Match so advantageous, augmented my Pride, and made me carry myself more stately toward the Duke of Nemour; but I made it my business to humour the Duke of Beaufort. The Duke of Nemours had too great a conceit of his Merit, and too much Wit not to unravel the reason of my preferring his Brother before him. Nevertheless it made him mad, to have the meanest share in my Affection; and he endeavoured to infuse into me a contempt of his Rival. But notwithstanding all the unpleasing Portraitures he gave of him, I still continued my compliance with the Duke of Beaufort.  
The Duke of Nemours was so enraged at this, that seeing he could not put me out of conceit with his Rival, he resolved to make his Rival have an ill opinion of me. Therefore he informed him by a Person suspected to neither, that I betrayed him, and that the Duke of Nemours spent whole Nights with me.  
The Duke of Beaufort took no notice of any thing to myself, but resolved to have me carefully watched. On the other side, the Duke of Nemours, who made no question but his Brother-in-Law would set Sentinels enough upon me, dreamed of nothing else but how he might procure a Witness that would swear he saw him enter my Chamber in the Night; and at length he gained one of my Servants, who left open a low Window that looked into the Street; and through that Window it was that the Duke of Nemours entered, at such a time when he was sure to be observed by the Duke of Beaufort's Spies.  
This Adventure was not long kept secret, but was published the next Morning; and all the while I knew nothing of it. And indeed what care, what caution can be sufficient against Adventures of this nature! What Woman can promise herself to be exempt from disgrace, when there needs no more than an Enemy or a Lover to satisfy his Revenge upon her.  
But when I understood what had passed, I went to the Duke of Beaufort to ask him the reason of spreading such a Scandal. He answered me, that I knew better than any body; that it was no Calumny, because his Rival had been seen to go in and come out of my Lodging but the Night before. Upon that I made such a Hubub in my House that I discovered the Truth. I sent for the Duke of Beaufort to come to me; he came; and the Lackey who had been bribed, confessed the whole truth before him, so that at length he began to believe, or else he made a show of believing I was innocent. I told him farther, that I was not satisfied with those Proofs, but that I would give him others yet more convincing, by obliging the Duke of Nemours to disown the thing himself. But the Duke desired me to forget the Adventure, assuring me that he desired no other satisfaction, and that he was fully convinced of my Innocence.  
However, I saw no other way to restore my Reputation to its first integrity, but my marrying the Duke of Beaufort: But I soon perceived he had flattered me with false hopes; he abated his Sedulities, and insensibly forbore to visit me. And to ●ustify this change of his mind, he wrote me word, that during the Agitations of his Fortune, he could not think of marrying. So that I plainly saw, I was no longer to reckon upon him. I must confess, it was no great trouble to me to forget him, because I never loved him. However, I was vexed he had escaped me; and therefore not caring to live any longer at Paris, I retired into my Province. Where, while I remained in my own Signiory, which as you well know, borders upon the Duke of Savoy's Territories, another Adventure befell me.  
One Evening word was brought me, that two Gentlemen, having lost their way in following some Chase or other, desired to know whether I would be so courteous as to afford 'em a Lodging till the next day, in regard it was late, and they being quite tired, it was impossible for 'em to ride any farther. The Person that spoke for 'em would not tell me their Names; only he assured me, they were Persons of Quality, and that I would not repent me of the kindness I did 'em.  
I had with me a Lady, one of my intimate Friends, and an old Gentleman, who was nearly related to me. I was also at a stand, whether it became me to entertain Gentlemen who refused to let me know who they were: But when they appeared, I found such an Air of Nobleness in their Faces, and they requested me to lodge 'em with such a graceful demeanour, that I could not refuse 'em. These two Persons were the Duke of Savoy, and the Marquis of Fleuri, who under pretence of having lost their way, came out of curiosity to see me.  
The Duke of Savoy had for a long time an earnest desire to be acquainted with me. He had seen my Picture, among others of the Ladies of the Court of France that had been sent him; and in regard he was an Amorous Prince, who took delight in Adventures, understanding that I lived in a Castle bordering upon his Dominions, his Curiosity led him to give me a Visit, in company with the Marquis of Fleuri.  
The Duke of Savoy, who was unwilling to discover himself to any body but only to me, that he might not lose time, made a sign to the Marquis to engage in a discourse with the Old Gentleman, and the Lady, my Friend, while he kept me in discourse: And then so soon as he could speak without being heard by any body but myself, Madam, said He, you see ● Prince, who for above these two years has had so great a Passion for you, which has made him forget his Quality, that he might have the Honour of seeing you. I am the Duke of Savoy; but I do not ground my Hopes of gaining your Favour so much upon my Quality, as upon the most tender and passionate Love that ever was pledged to Womankind. While he was thus talking to me, I kept my Eyes attentively fixed upon him: A sort of surprise which he perceiving, and afraid lest I should interrupt him, though it were only to show the astonishment I was in, he earnestly desired me not to disclose it to others that He had discovered himself; and after a World of Amorous Ejaculations, he pressed me to tell him what Impression they had made upon my Heart.  
But I was not overhasty to let him understand my Sentiments; I perceived in myself an Inclination for the Marquis of Fleuri, before I knew who he was; and I was sorry that I had shown any thing of Complacency to the Duke of Savoy, because I foresaw he would prove an Obstacle to my growing Passion: In short, I was already more in love then I could imagine myself to be. Instead of answering to the Duke of Savoy's Amorous Importunities, I asked him with a kind of unseasonable Transport, the Name of the Person that accompanied him; but immediately repenting that I had been so foolish to put such a Question to him, I fell into a sort of Rambling Gibberish, that put the Duke into a fit of Laughter. However, he attributed the little Rambling of my Expressions to the Disorder of my Mind, and still pressed to know what he was to hope for. By which time, having a little recollected myself from the Agitations that turmoiled my surprised Thoughts, I told him, I could not think myself any way obliged to him for a seeming Honour that so much exposed my Reputation. He laughed at my niceness in point of Reputation; and told me, that the thing which he required from a Woman that he loved, was, that she would lay aside that part of Delicacy. Upon this Subject we had a long discourse, and our Conversation ended in many earnest Invitations, which he made me, to the Court of Savoy.  
The Marquis de Fleuri, as my Friend afterwards told me, was under a strange disturbance all the while that the Duke of Savoy was talking to me; and she could perceive, I was a Person who had made no small Impression in his Breast. Therefore, before we parted, the Marquis took his Opportunity, and whispering me in the Ear, Madam, said He, I shall die if you surrender to the Duke of Savoy a Heart which I alone deserve, because of that Infinite Love which I have for you. He was unwilling to say more to me, for fear of being observed; and I must confess, it was my happiness that I could not have time to discourse him in private; for I should have had much ado to have concealed from him the Joy which the assurance of his Love infused into me; considering how little we are Mistresses of ourselves in the first Agitations of a violent Passion. At the same time the Duke of Savoy desired leave that he might tarry the next day also at my House; which the Pleasure of the Marquis de Fleuri's Company, and the Hopes of understanding who he was, easily prevailed upon me to grant.  
When my Friend the Lady and I were alone together, I gave her an account of the Conversation I had had with the Duke of Savoy; but said not a word to her of my Inclinations for the Marquis de Fleuri: Not, that I disinherited the Sincerity of her Friendship; but because Secrecy is always the first thing that inspires us with a Real Passion. My Friend would hardly believe me at first, when I told her that one of the Persons was the Duke of Savoy; but fully at length convinced, she blamed me for consenting to let 'em tarry all the next day. She foresaw better than I did, the Consequences of this Adventure; and told me moreover, that if it should come to be known, the Higher the Duke of Savoy's Quality was, the more my Reputation would suffer. I assured her, that he should never have any occasion to boast of any thing that could do me an Injury, and that I did not find in myself the least Inclination for him. We spent all that night in discoursing of this Adventure, not being able in all that time to think of disclosing to her my Sentiments for the Marquis de Fleuri; a fault for which I have often since that time deservedly blamed myself; for a Woman has never more need of the Counsel and Advice of a prudent and discerning Friend, then when a Passion begins to blind her. When she thinks to be her own Conductress, she makes a thousand false Steps, and falls into a thousand mistakes.  
Thus then, consulting no body but myself, I resolved upon two things that were ill contrived, yet which at the same time seemed to give me an occasion to satisfy both my Inclination and my Virtue. I took a Resolution not to let the Marquis de Fleuri understand the Sentiments I had for him, nor to discourage the Duke of Savoy, that I might not be deprived of the Marquis' Company. This Design appeared to me Heroic; besides, that it concerned me to try whether the Marquis loved me really or no; and I thought there was no better way to convince myself of this Truth, then by making a show of having a greater Fondness for the Duke of Savoy than I had. The next day I put my project in Execution; as being only civil and complaisant to the Duke of Savoy, and carefully avoiding to discourse or cast my Eye upon the Marquis de Fleuri.  
As for the Duke of Savoy, whose love for me, was one of those sorts of Passions, that never languish by degrees, but seek a speedy satisfaction; he was so charmed with my converse and disposition, that without any more ado, he proposed to me what his Passion made him desire. On the other side, I who had a design to manage him, returned him no such Answer as I should have done; so that he thought there was now no more to be done, but to find an Opportunity that we might be both in Private together. He dissembled therefore, and having made me promise him to take a Journey into Savoy, he took his leave of me, and I believed him really gone. The Marquis of Fleuri endeavoured in vain to speak to me before they took horse, for I still avoided him; so that all he could do, was to slip a Billet-Doux into my hand, which I had not the Power to refuse; and therefore so soon as they were out of sight, I opened it in great haste, and found the following words.  
Nothing but an Affection for you as violent as mine, could force me to betray the Duke of Savoy, by giving you notice that he is this night to be let into your Chamber. Your Conversation has flattered him; but since I have found you worthy of my love, I cannot believe you give to his so much Encouragement.  
The Marquis of Fleuri's Merit was too well known, and I had had such an advantageous Relation made of it, that I was overjoyed when I understood 'twas He that loved me no less passionately than I did him already. However his Bill●t put me into a great perplexity, so that I thought at first to have shown it to my Friend; but in regard I was unwilling she should understand the Sentiments which the Marquis had for me, I only told her what I had heard of the Duke's Resolution. She laid before me, that I had done ill to flatter the Passion of that Prince, and asked we what was my Intention? I answered her, that I saw no likelihood that he could put his Design in execution; however, that I would break his Measures, by keeping her all Night in my Company, and giving order that no body should be let into the Castle▪ But she advised me to take another course, and to spend the Night among the Ladies in the Neighbourhood. But alas, I could not relish that Advice; for the hope of the Marquis' Company overruled me to stay at home, and there expect the issue of the Adventure. And I thought that standing upon my guard would be enough to secure my Reputation.  
After I had given all such Orders as I thought necessary to frustrate the Duke's Enterprise, I retired betimes in company with my Friend. I thought that after such Precautions as I had taken, there could be no fear of the Duke of Savoy: But I had to do with a Prince sufficiently ingenious to bring about his Amorous Designs. One of my Women whom he had bribed, had let him in betimes into the Castle, and locked him up in my Wardrobe. The Marquis of Fleuri was also hid in one of the Courts, where being discovered by one of my People, there was presently a loud Cry of Thiefs; all my Servants were immediately in Arms, and they had certalnly killed him, if my Friend and I, so soon as we heard the noise, had not immediately ran down to his rescue. By that means we saved the Marquis' Life. In the mean time the Duke of Savoy entered my Chamber: But in regard I was now assured of his being in the Castle, I did not return to my Chamber without my female Friend, in company with the Old Gentleman and the Marquis.  
The Duke of Savoy seeing his Design discovered, showed himself; and I flew out in bitter Language against him; but he did but laugh at me; and ordering the Marquis of Fleuri to follow him, he left the Castle before day. On the other side, I was vexed to the Soul at the Marquis' departure; and methought I perceived so much affliction in his Countenance for the same Reason, that I was about to have stopped him.  
Some days after I received a Letter, wherein he sent me word, that he loved me above all Women, though he could not question but that I loved the Duke of Savoy as well. But then the vexation which the Marquis of Fleuri's Letter gave me, made me sensible that I loved him more and more: Yet I could not understand why he should be so positive that I loved the Duke of Savoy. Thereupon I recalled to mind all that I had said, and all that I had done, that could manifest any such Inclination for that Prince; and not being able to live in that uncertainty wherein I was, I took a Resolution to go to the Court of Savoy.  
I never examined whether or no my Design was contrary to my Honour, and I shut my Eyes against whatever could divert me from it; and only listening to my Love, made haste to be gone.  
The Duke of Savoy was surprised at my Arrival; for he never expected to see me at Turin, considering what had past. But being one who loved to flatter himself, he thought I had repent of having used him no better, and imagined that the motive of my Journey was out of a design to please him.  
The Marquis of Fleuri was jealous of the same thing; and was mortally perplexed at it; but whether it were to make himself amends for his loss, or to be revenged upon his Rival, he made all his Applications to a Person for whom the Duke seemed to have a very great Affection. This was a young Lady of Bretagne, whose Name and Adventures are known to all the World. So that when I had taken a journey into Savoy for the sake only of the Marquis of Fleuri, he was labouring to forget me, and loved another.  
I spared for nothing of Bravery to make a show: Wherein I followed my natural Inclination to Luster and Expense. This made a cry at Court, that all my Finery was at the Duke's Charge, and the Marquis was carried away with the common Opinion: And this Opinion advanced his Affairs with his Mistress. For a fancy took her in the head, that the Duke of Savoy had an affection for me: And judging by the present what he might hereafter do for me, she listened to the Marquis of Fleuris' Addresses.  
I undeceived her Royal Highness, who had suffered herself to be prepossessed as well as others: And giving her a faithful account of what had passed between the Duke and myself, my Sincerity pleased her, and she was pleased to honour me with her Friendship.  
My heart however could not be at rest: The Marquis of Fleury seemed to shun me in all places: I knew of his Intriegue with the Lady of Bretagne; nor was the Duke of Savoy ignorant of it.  
One day also discoursing with me about it, he told me, I was the cause he suffered unrevenged the Affront which the Marquis had put upon him; and that I might judge by that, that he intended to have no other Mistress but myself. I discovered to him some part of my Sentiments, which no way satisfied him; and I laid before him the injustice which the Marquis did him, and that in honour it became him not to relinquish to another, a Person whom he had once loved: And Jealousy infused into me a wonderful Eloquence. The Duke of Savoy also could not but perceive how much I was concerned in the injury which the Marquis did him: For according to the manner that I talked to him, it might be easily perceived that I was more offended at it then the Duke.  
But as much taken up with the Person whom he admired as the Marquis was, he could not but observe, that I had little kindness for the Duke: And the love which he had once had for me, and which was not quite extinguished, made him keep a strict watch upon the Motions of that Prince; and he perceived that the Duke was ill satisfied with me, and that I avoided him with care. This was the reason that he forbore to shun me, and that I had a sudden opportunity to discourse him. He talked to me of his Suspicions; I undeceived him; and my joy to find that he still loved me, would not permit me to conceal from him the affection I had for him.  
Nor did he make an ill use of his Information: Never was a violent Passion accompanied with more respect. I desired him to be contented with the Assurance which I gave him that he was beloved, and conjured him to be careful of my Reputation. I met with a Character in him far different from that of other men, who believe they have a right to be rude and uncivil with a Woman whom Scandal has not spared. Quite the contrary, the Marquis told me, that he would do himself the kindness to convince me by a respectful adherence, how much he was assured that I deserved a better Reputation; and begged my permission to do me that Service in public, as to persuade the World into the same Opinion he himself had of me. Which demeanour of his appeared to me so noble, and so generous, that I could not refuse him what he requested; and from that time forward he began to redouble his Addresses to me, as to a Woman that he intended to marry. For I flattered him with hopes that I would marry him, though it were not my design: And perhaps I may be blamed for putting him in hopes of a thing which I never intended to do. I will not deny but that there was something of Treachery in it on my part: But one Consideration which some People perhaps will censure for Chimerical, would not permit me to think of such a Match. I foresaw, that so soon as the Marquis of Fleuri should marry me, there would have been those who would have laid before him, with a world of aggravation, the Stories that rendered my Conduct suspected in France. And I was afraid, that his Passion being satisfied, would have been rambling after other Objects, while I must have been the forsaken Monument of his extinguished Love. And I looked upon the expiration of his Love as the greatest Misfortune that could befall me. This was the Reason that prevailed with me against that Match: Now that which obliged me to put him in hopes of marrying me, was this. I imagined that nothing could be more for my Honour, nor more conduce to the re establishment of my Reputation, then to see a man of his Merit, and his Delicacy, make me the only Subject of his Addresses, and judge me worthy to be his Wife, when so many People seemed to take delight in scandalising me for a Woman that had neither virtue nor government of herself. I thought it lawful for me to make use of such an occasion to recover my Honour.  
The Marquis of Fleuri's Constancy to me provoked the Duke of Savoy, and drew upon me the hatred of the Damsel of Bretagne. She had been already jealous of the Duke of Savoy's Sedulities to me; but the Marquis of Fleuri's Inconstancy offended her Vanity to that degree, that she resolved to be revenged both of me and him. To this purpose she reconciled herself to the Duke of Savoy, whose Levity she managed so well, that she easily accomplished what she undertook.  
The Duke of Savoy soon after sent the Marquis of Fleuri to the Court of France: And though we saw that this Employment was only a pretence to part us, yet there was no remedy but Obedience.  
However, I was not so sensibly displeased at this same Separation as I should have been, had we not been both in hopes to meet each other again at Lion, where the King and the Duke, with both their Courts, were to be toward the end of the Year.   

Book the Sixth.  
THE Duke of Savoy, after he had thus removed the Marquis of Fleuri, minded nothing more than to lay such a Snare for me, as might either put him into a Condition to triumph over me, or else give him an occasion to revenge himself upon the Marquis by defaming my Conduct.  
The Damsel of Bretagne and I became very good Friends upon the Assurances I gave her, that I never had been engaged in any Intrigue with the Duke of Savoy. She begged my pardon for being jealous of me; and because it concerned me that the Duke should court her more than eur he had done, I did my utmost to preserve a good understanding between 'em, and by a persuasion of bad Policy, permitted the Duke to visit her at my Lodging. Thither she came frequently, and there it was that the Duke met her as often. Nor did the Report, that the Duke came thither for my sake, much trouble me, because it was well known that I never was with him but in the Damsel's company: Besides that, I thought him quite estranged from me, while he was so passionate a Lover of his Mistress. However, the Report continued that he was still a zealous Servant of mine; and there were People that sent the Marquis of Fleuri word, that the Duke was never from my Lodging, and that we were both engaged together in a familiarity which began to make a noise. This Rumour renewed his first Jealousies; he wrote to me therefore in such terms, as plainly showed him to be persuaded that I was not cautious enough of my own Reputation, or his Delicacy, and earnestly desired me to find out a way to avoid the Duke's coming any more to my Lodging. 'Twas in vain to lay before him the Reasons I had to permit him; there was a necessity that for his satisfaction I must break off the Duke's Visits.  
To that purpose I feigned myself sick, and affected Privacy: But it was said, that all whatever I should do would turn to the prejudice of my Reputation: And they who made it their business to defame me, made their Comments upon my Sickness, and gave out that I was with Child. In Savoy 'twas said, that the Marquis of Fleuri had done my Business; but into France they sent him word, that it was by the Duke of Savoy. There were also some People who pretended to know the truth from my own Servants; and perhaps there might be some one among 'em who might undertake to support this false Report: For frequently our Servants are our most dangerous Enemies.  
When I understood what the World said of me, I showed myself, to undeceive such Persons as had too lightly given credit to the Scandal; and People of Sense were undeceived. But in regard there are some who will sooner believe the worst then the best, there were others gave out I had miscarried; and others looking upon things according to their prepossession, pretended to discover in my Countenance and my Gate several signs of that Imposture; yet I was never better in health, never looked better than I did at that time.  
But the most pernicious Effect of this Calumny was not what was reported in Savoy, but what was believed in Paris. The Marquis of Fleuri was fully persuaded of the truth of it, and wrote to me to the same purpose. Upon the receipt of his Letter I was not a little nettled and imbittered against him: His giving credit to such Reports with so much easiness, rendered him so different to me from what he always had been, that I repented of having thrown away my Love upon him: And then it was that I found by experience, that Absence operates more ways than one to the prejudice of Love. This begat a little coldness between us, and we forbore writing one to another. He that will undertake to love a Woman, aught to have a strong Head, more especially when the Person upon whom he desires to place his Esteem, has the misfortune to have Enemies. For I believe there is no man strong enough upon that account, since the Marquis of Fleuri, who was a man of the best Character that ever I knew, was so weak as to believe whatever Tales and Stories reached his Ears.  
These Scandals and Reproaches pleased the Duke of Savoy, as much as the Marquis of Fleuri was vexed to hear 'em; and thereby 'twas easy to understand the difference of their Love.  
The Duke of Savoy, who had only a Roughhewn Passion for me, ne'er laid my Defamations to heart: Nay, he rather believed it would be no hard matter to win a Woman who had little Reputation to be cautious of. For this is that which happens but too frequently: There are few Women, when the greatest part of their Honour is sacrificed, make any scruple to offer up the remainder. On the other side, the Marquis of Fleuri, who never loved me but because he thought I had not merited my Misfortunes, was at his wits end to have the least reason to question my Innocence; his Love not being able to support itself without Esteem, which was the foundation of it, he valued not a Heart accustomed to surrender.  
At the same time the Marquis of Cah— fell in love with the Damself of Bretagne, which was a Match of great Advantage for her; and in regard the Duke of Savoy had a desire to bestow her, he desired me that I would be pleased to visit her sometimes, and to accompany her when the Marquis proposed to carry her abroad: He also desired me to speak to the Marquis de Cah— in favour of his Mistress; which I did with that success, that he married her within a year or two after.  
One day the Duke of Savoy proposed the taking of a Tour by Water upon the Poe; where I was present with all the Court. In our return, it was perceived that the Barge which carried us began to leak: And presently the Duke of Savoy ordered us to be set ashore, where Coaches were ready to receive us, and carry us to Turin, from whence we were not above a League, and Night drawing on. I know not by what Enchantment, thinking to have taken Coach with the Marquis of Cah— and his Mistress, I mistook, and put myself into another, which drove away like Lightning, and wherein I found myself alone with a single Person whom I knew soon after to be the Duke of Savoy. I was sufficiently vexed that it should be said I returned alone with the Duke; but I had juster cause soon after to be more afflicted. The Wheel of our Coach broke, as the Duke himself had taken order, and we were forced to alight, as Fortune, or rather Design would have it, near a House which belonged to the Marquis of Fleuri, and which flew open to us as soon as the Duke's Name was heard. It seems, 'twas no new thing in that Principality to see the Duke engage himself in such Adventures, and never was Prince less shy of public Discourse upon that score. I made no scruple to enter the House, believing the other Coaches had followed us; but they had taken another Road, and I was all alone with the Duke of Savoy. However, I thought to meet with Company in the House; and when I understood that it belonged to the Marquis of Fleuri, I flattered myself that no Misfortune could befall me, and that in the House of so dear a Lover I should be nimble and cunning enough to defend myself from any Affront that his Rival could put upon me. Hardly were we entered, when a certain Person arrived; you will scarcely believe it, when I shall tell you it was the Marquis of Fleuri, seeing I have told ye that he was in France: However, it was He, and you shall hear the reason why he returned.  
Receiving no Letters from me, and being no less able to persuade himself to write to me, he took a Resolution to come and satisfy his Curiosity and his Jealousies upon the Place itself; for he loved me really, and was at his Wit's-end that he could not be assured of my Virtue. Nor was it a hard matter for him to take this Journey, because the Court of France was then removing to Lion; and therefore taking his advantage of these Circumstances, he took Post and came to his House with a design to remain there Incognito, and not to make known his return to any but those by whom he intended to inform himself of the truth of things.  
He arrived almost as soon as We; and the Housekeeper telling him that the Duke of Savoy was but just come before with a Lady, his thoughts misgave him presently that 'twas myself. He was at a stand whether or no he should conceal himself, when the Duke who was desirous to know who he was, perceived him; and presently taking notice of him, asked him why he was not in France, and wherefore he was returned without his Order. The Marquis, in his own excuse made answer, that his Negotiations being at an end, he thought he might be permitted to leave a Place where he had nothing more to do.  
The Duke of Savoy, who despaired not all this while to vanquish my Reluctancy, commanded the Marquis to go and stay for him at Turin, as being unwilling he should see me in his Company. Thereupon the Marquis made a show of yielding him Obedience, though having more exactly informed himself who the Lady was that the Duke of Savoy had brought along with him, he understood it was myself. But than it was that he minded little the Disobeying of his Prince, provided he could but convince himself by his own Eyes of what he had been long doubtful, and in some measure persuaded. Now in regard he was better acquainted then any Body with the Apartiments of his own House, he hid himself in a Closet, where he could hear and see what was done in the Chamber where we were together.  
Nothing could have fallen out more to my Advantage; for the Marquis de Fleuri was a witness how coursely I handled the Duke of Savoy; and his Esteem for my Virtue restored me to his Heart, and made him lay aside all his Jealousies. In the mean time the Duke pressed me to correspond with his Passion, and he urged his Importunities to that degree, that the Marquis thought it no longer became him to conceal himself, but that it was time to succour me in that distress. He appeared then, and never considering that he exposed himself by so doing to his Ruin, he entered the Chamber where we were, and approaching the Duke with a world of Respect, he besought him to be pleased that he might afford me the Succour which I implored. The Duke laid his hand upon his Sword, and had I not interposed between, he had certainly killed the Marquis; which he might have easily done, because he neither offered to defend himself, nor to avoid the Duke's fury by flight. However the Duke's wrath was not appeased by the Marquis' Submission; he confined him to his House, and forbid him to stir from thence till further Order; I also underwent the Duke's Resentment; for he sent me back to Turin, and told me 'twas his Pleasure I should appear no more at Court; and so taking Horse he road a private way to Turin.  
Report and Scandal would have never spared me, had it been known that I had been alone with the Duke; but I was sufficiently bespattered the next day; for than it was known that the Duke and the Marquis had had a Rancounter. It was reported that I had given the Marquis a Meeting, and that the Duke would never have minded coming back alone with me, had it not been to break the measures which the Marquis and I had taken to meet one another.  
All this while, I must do the Duke that Justice, that he was always an Enemy to Violence; and that he had not been so rude with me, but that he thought me to be of the Humour of those Women who would have that torn from them which they most eagerly desire to part with. So that whatever was violent in the Duke of Savoy's Behaviour was only to be attributed to the misfortune of my Reputation. He might have managed me better, had he been better acquainted with my Humour, and had he not built too much upon the Opinion he had of my former Intrigues.  
The next day he came to see me, and having made me a thousand Excuses, desired me to appear again at Court. And as for the Marquis of Fleuri, he requested me in respect of him, not to take it amiss, that he continued in his confinement forsome few days, for returning without his Order. But the Marquis of Fleuri, who did not believe he should come off at so cheap a rate, was not to be found when they sought for him, neither did any Body know what was become of him.  
Though I was a little surprised that he had not found a way to send me word where he was, yet was I not much disturbed at it; but rather glad that he had betaken himself to flight, because I imagined he was returned into France, whither I was suddenly to follow him. In short, I departed with the Court of Savoy in a little time after, and we came to Lions, where the Court of France was expected in a day or two.  
The Marquis of Fleuri had been in that City incognito, ever since what had passed in his own House; and now he was no longer jealous; nay, the same adventure seemed to have given a new vigour to his Passion; he frequently came to see me; but because I was afraid lest he should be discovered, I persuaded him to bethink himself of reconciling himself to the Duke of Savoy; which I thought it might be no difficult thing to do at a time when that Prince had nothing but Divertisement in his thoughts; and it is true that there never were seen so many Pastimes and Divertisements as while the two Courts remained at Lions.  
The Marquis told me that he knew but one assured means to appease the Duke of Savoy, which was for me to marry him. Thereupon he called to my remembrance the hopes I had given him to that purpose, and pressed me with so much Importunity no longer to delay a Thing that would restore him to his Master's favour, and make him perfectly happy, that I had not the power to let him understand my resolution never to be his Wife. I only told him I did not think he could regain the Duke's Confidence by such a Marriage, because his Highness loved me still too well, to let me choose for a Husband a person with whom he thought he had just reason to be offended.  
The Marquis de Fleuri was too Amorous to be satisfied with that Excuse, and upbraided me with want of Affection for him. But then I told him frankly that I would never marry him, because I feared that Marriage would abate his Love. He could not relish so exquisite a Piece of Delicacy; and therefore thinking my mind altered, he began to revile me, and intermixed his Taunts with a little too much bitterness. That displeased me, and I found there was too much unpoliteness and Interest in his Love. I was at my Wit's end, that he had not so much Delicacy as myself; and out of a strange and fantastic Humour not easy to be comprehended, the more I loved him, the more reason I thought I had to be dissatisfied with him. Fain would I, that it would have contented him to be assured, that I gave him in my heart a Precedency above all other men, and that he had been as apprehensive as I, of what I imagined would one day destroy so fair a Union.  
In the mean time it was known that the Marquis of Fleuri was at Lion, and that he visited me every day. And I know not whether he were in hopes to engage me to marry him, by giving out that we were already married; but such a Report was spread about, and I understood that he was Author of it.  
The Duke of Savoy also spoke to me about it, and upbraided me for not having informed him how nearly I was concerned in the Marquis of Fleuri's Fortune; and protested to me that since he was my Husband, he would not only pardon him for what was past, but that he would endeavour by his Favours to render my Residence in Piedmont acceptable to me. I assured the Duke that there was no such thing as a Marriage, but I besought him to restore the Marquis to his Confidence. This Request made his R. Highness believe that I had some reasons to keep my Marriage private. He therefore sent for the Marquis, and restored him to his Familiarity. Thereupon, so soon as I saw the Marquis of Fleuri, I chid him for not undeceiving the Duke in his opinion of our being married; and I told him that I took it very ill that he himself had spread abroad the Report of it. He did not at all deny it, but desired me to forgive a fault which he thought necessary to reconcile him to the Duke his Master. Afterwards he gave me an Account, after what manner the Duke had restored him to his friendship, and made that an Argument that I could have no longer any reason which could hinder me from Marrying him. I returned him the same Answers I had done when he urged me to give him my consent; but seeing me steadfast in my determination not to marry him, he flew out into such a violent Passion that I could not have thought him guilty of, and told me, that he began to think that whatever had been said of me was true. I was so sensible of that Affront, that in the height of my Anger which it had infused into me, I forbid him to see me any more. With that he flung out of the Room, and I was more provoked at his obedience, than I was with his Injurious Language; for his manner of leaving me, made me judge that it would be no difficult thing for him to forsake my Company.  
I never had such violent pangs of Grief as then; but at length I recovered my Courage and Resolution; and whatever passion I felt for the Marquis, I scorned to recall him again. Thus we should always be Mistresses of our Passions, were we not too much in love with 'em.  
In the mean time, the Marquis of Fleuri, after he had left me, took post, and went I know not whither. And they that were my former Scandalisers took no compassion upon me on that occasion. But I made use of the old Remedy, Patience, and leaving both the Courts at Lion, returned to my own Territories, resolved to comfort myself for the loss of a Person who had not delicacy enough to be contented with my heart. For if I had not the advantage to bring the Marquis to my Sentiments, I had at least the consolation not to have been so weak as to conform to his.  
The Lady who recounted this Story to me, told me an infinite number of other Adventures that had befallen her; and while I tarried in the Province, we often made those Reflections together, which her Destiny and mine gave us an occasion to make upon the Misfortunes of Women.  
After I had put an end to those Affairs which detained me in the Province, I returned to Paris. There the Baron de Sarcelles, who was my Kinsman, came to see me so soon as I was arrived, and gave me to understand, that during my absence he had made a particular Acquaintance with St. Albe and his Wife; that he gave frequent Visits to both; and in short, that he had listed himself in the number of their Friends. He told me farther, that Madam St. Albe had charged him to make a perfect reconciliation between her and I; that she was absolutely undeceived in every thing that had been infused into her concerning my familiarity with her Husband; that she most earnestly desired to give me cause to forget what was past, and to become one of my Friends. As for St. Albe, I had heard no tidings of him all the while I stayed in the Province: And though I was fully convinced that he durst not write to me for fear of displeasing me, yet I was troubled that I could hear nothing of him.  
I persuaded myself that Sarcelles spoke to me after that manner by St. Albe's Order, who had brought his Wife to hear Reason, and had advised her to be Friends with me, that he might recover the lost advantage of my Society. I loved St. Albe too well to deny my consent to a Reconciliation that flattered him with so much delight. And besides, I was glad to find his Wife reduced to Reason, and that she sought my friendship: So I told Sarcelles, that I would willingly wait upon her, and that he might carry me to her when she pleased. Nor did he delay to bring us together; at what time we talked of nothing that was passed; nor did any thing fall from me, during our whole discourse, that could give her an occasion to recollect her memory: and when she went about to talk of any thing to that purpose, I always interrupted her; and because she loaded me with her Caresses, I imagined that she loved me in good earnest. I asked her for her Husband; she told me, he was in the Country, and that he would not return in three Weeks. I durst not ask any more particular Questions; but I made no doubt but that when he should come to know that I had visited his Wife, he would write to me, and hasten his return; nevertheless, I heard no news concerning him. I repaid Madam de St. Albe her Visit, who after that came frequently to see me, always bringing Sarcelles along with her, which made me believe 'em to be good Friends, but I little suspected 'em to be in that familiar league together as they were.  
St. Albe returned by this time out of the Country, but was not very hasty to come and see me; which very much disturbed me; but because I thought he would not presume to visit me without leave, I went to his House, two days after I understood he was come home. He was then with his Wife, but received me coldly; nor did he say one word to me how joyful he was that I should become a frequent Visitant of his Wife, which I expected from him. I observed however in his Eyes, that still he loved me, and that it was with great constraint upon himself that he forbore to let me know how glad he was to see me again. He seemed to me to be sad, and I saw that he was dissatisfied: However, I said not a word to him in his Wife's presence; but having given him my Hand to lead me to my Coach, Well, Sir, said I, how like ye Madam St. Albe's Discourse in reference to me? Is not this a wonderful Change? If outward Shows may be believed, I am apt to think she loves me with all her heart. St. Albe returned no Answer. Upon which, why so silent? said I. You cannot but know the cause, replied he; I am troubled, Madam, that you have so easily done for Sarcelles what you have so often refused to do for me. How so, replied I, was it not you that persuaded Madam St. Albe to be reconciled to me? Upon those words he smiled, and told me, I could not be ignorant of the Motive that induced her to that Reconciliation. The Place would not permit us time sufficient to clear this Mystery; for had I kept him longer, it would have bred suspicion; and therefore I only desired him to come to me the next day and unfold this Riddle; telling him withal, that I should not take him for my Friend, if he did not release me from the trouble I was in. He promised to obey me; and so I left him for that time, not knowing what to think of the Story.  
So soon as I came to my Lodging, I told Madam Laval what I had heard and seen, and we thought we had divined the cause of St. Albe's Melancholy. But he came the next day and unfolded it himself. I am no more a Visionary, said he, nor a Jealous Shallow-brains than another; nor do I love Madam St. Albe so well as to be alarmed at her private Familiarities. But I love you, Madam, with a delicacy that renders me sensible of your Honour. All the World believes that Sarcelles courts my Wife, and that you are the Manager of their Private Conjunctions.  
This Complaint of St. Albe touched me to the quick: I asked him whether he could accuse me of so foul a piece of Treachery? No, Madam, replied St. Albe, though I had some reason to wonder at first, that you should visit my Wife at Sarcelles' request, a Person whom I hate, and whom I had ere now full dearly made repent of his Insolence, but for the honour which he has to be your Kinsman, yet I did you justice without delay. I thought you were imposed upon by the Artifices which they used to draw ye to my House, and I thought that your Compliance proceeded only from your Civility and your Natural Goodness. Do you believe, said I, hastily interrupting, that I had no other Motive— and so saying, I blushed, and fixed a more tender look upon him then ever I had done, while he beheld me in the same manner, and both stood speechless for a time. Yes, Madam, replied St. Albe at length, though you have always been so cruel to make me sensible of your indifferency for me, I was less troubled to imagine with myself that you sought see me again, then to believe you capable of Malice or Blindness. As for Malice, said I, I never had any; but I think I have been a little too blind; and I would have you be convinced, that 'twas my desire to see you again that was the cause of my Blindness. For, in short, St. Albe, I knew your Merit to the full, nor could I be insensible of so many Testimonies of your Friendship, as you have given me. I thought, added I, it had been you yourself who had persuaded Madam St. Albe to desire my company: I saw nothing in her Conduct with Sarcelles that gave me any cause of suspicion, and I am apt to believe that nothing criminal passes between 'em. St. Albe took no notice of my last words; he only minded to assure himself of the sincerity of my Sentiments for himself; and though he could not doubt but that I loved him, yet was it the first time I ever disclosed my Sentiments to him. Nor did I repent that I had let him understand 'em: He accompanied with so much respect the Joy and Transports which the assurance of my Love infused into him, that he still appeared to me more worthy of my love: And I believe there would be little reason to upbraid Women for being so weak as to let men know they love 'em, if all Lovers were as respectful and as delicate as St. Albe.  
After he had a hundred times renewed his Oaths to be eternally mine, and to exact no other recompense of his love, than the pleasure of loving me, and being by me beloved, I put him again upon the Story of Sarcelles, and he told me, that he had been for a long time a Sedulous Courtier of his Wife, insomuch that it had been the talk of the Town, and that Sarcelles and his Wife foreseeing that his Patience might at length be tired, they bethought themselves that the only way to preserve their Union, was to draw me to Madam St. Albe's House, because that St. Albe being still in love with me, the pleasure of my Company would make him amends for the trouble that Sarcelles gave him.  
I found much probability in St. Albe's Relation, and that put us into new Confusions: For I could not forbear visiting Madam St. Albe without depriving myself of her Husband's Company, and exasperating her a second time against me: On the other side, I could not continue my Visits without blasting my Reputation in the World. I understood also that Public Report had begun to bespatter me already, by giving out upon my renewing my Visits to Madam St. Albe, that we acted all four by concert; and that St. Albe for the pleasure of my company had prostituted his Wife to Sarcelles.  
This Report appeared so injurious to my own, and the Reputation of St. Albe, that for the more speedy stifling it, I resolved neither to visit St. Albe nor his Wife any more.  
St Albe had too great a value for my Honour, and was too sensible of his own, to disapprove my Design: But because it was too great a trouble to us to want the company of one another, there was an Expedient found out, that I should refrain for some time from visiting Madam St. Albe, and that during that time I should oblige Sarcelles to carry himself with more caution.  
But this turned also to my prejudice: For in regard it was known how coldly St. Albe had received me, and that the Visit was not known which he paid me the next day, 'twas reported abroad that I forbore to see his Wife, because the Husband had found it out that I favoured Sarcelles' Designs. Which made People believe that I loved St. Albe better than he did me; and I was looked upon as a Woman that never minded any thing else, provided I might but satisfy my own Passion. However, I deserved a better Reputation; and I believed that few Women would have had the courage that I had, to refrain the Company of a Person I loved, when I had so favourable an opportunity to see him every day.  
About the same time Madam St. Albe fell sick, and notwithstanding all the Remedies that could be administered to her, she died of the Small Pox. Her Death ruined St. Albe, who having no Children by her, was obliged to restore what she brought him: And because he had been no good Husband of his own Estate, he was forced to despoil himself of all he had to satisfy his Wife's Heirs: So that he fell from a Plentiful Estate into great Poverty.  
It was now some time ago that the Duchess of Chatillon had proposed to marry me to the Duke of— who was a Widower, and who had a Daughter much about the Age of my Son. The Duke also agreed, if the Match went on, that my Son should marry his Daughter, which was a very advantageous Match for my Son, and which I ought not to have refused, had it been only because Madam de Chatillon proposed it: But I could not resolve to marry again; not that the Experimented Vexations of my first Marriage made me afraid to venture, but the Esteem and Affection I had for St. Albe. Nevertheless, because I could not foresee the death of his Wife, I had accepted the Civil Proposals of Madam de Chatillon, and could give no other Reason to put off my Marriage, but the tender years of my Son.  
Madam de St. Albe died just at the same time that Madam de Chatillon pressed me to forbear insisting upon that Reason. But St. Albe being a Widower, I thought it became me not to marry any other; and that which before was only an effect of my Passion, was now a Reason of Generosity. I was rich, and he was poor; I thought I could not in justice refuse to relieve him, and I knew no way to afford him a more noble Relief, nor more comformable to my Inclination, then to marry him. This was the real Motive which engaged me in a Design which has been so much blamed by those who accused me of only consulting a blind Passion. But to justify myself from this Reproach, I shall give an Account of the manner how our Marriage came to be concluded, by which it will be the better seen how worthy St. Albe was of the Advantage he met with in marrying me. Any other Woman, had she been in my place would have done as I did: For I dare be bold to say, there are Women still who have noble Sentiments, and they who believe they act only out of humour or interst, are not acquainted with 'em.  
When St. Albe, after the loss of his Wife, saw himself reduced to lose the best Estate which he enjoyed, there was nothing talked of about the Town but my Marriage with the Duke of— and whether St. Albe apprehended that the Match was too too much for my advantage for him to endeavour to persuade me against it; whether really he did not believe I loved him so well as to prefer him before the Duke of— or lastly, whether he were ashamed to find himself without an Estate, he left Paris, and withdrew to some Remainder of his own, which when he had sold, he designed to go for Holland, and seek for some Employment in that Country. As for my own part, I had seen him but once since the death of his Wife; and though I had taken a Resolution to marry him, I had not said a word to him of it; I only offered him what Money he stood in need of to redeem his Estate. He had thanked me for my Offers, but would not accept 'em: Two days after which, he left the Town, and I knew not for some time what was become of him; when at last, after much Expectation, I received the following Letter.  
The LETTER.  
I Thought it proper, Madam, to inform ye, that I am quite discharged from the Heirs of Madam de St. Albe. If I made no use of the Assistance you had the goodness to offer me toward the conclusion of that Affair, be assured, it was not out of my fear of being burdensome to ye, nor of being beholding to you. I know the generosity of your Soul; but I did not think it convenient to accept your Favours at a time when Fortune offered you an Advancement to Title and Dignity in the World, if any such there be that may be thought equal to your merit. I must always love ye however, but suffer me to conceal my Destiny from ye, till your Marriage is accomplished. Never inquire, or trouble yourself, whether I shall be happy or miserable: Whatever be my Lot, I shall be truly happy, when I know that you enjoy your full content.  
Upon the reading this Letter, I felt myself turmoiled with various Sentiments. At first I was charmed with St. Albe's Generosity: Then I accused him of loving me too little, since he gave me my Liberty with such a seeming unconcernedness. Methought his Letter did not become a tender Lover, and a little thing would have made me deem him inconstant. But at length, I knew him too well to continue long those sinister thoughts of his Affection, and I made this judgement of him, That he loved me so much the more, the more resolved he appeared to sacrifice himself for my sake.  
Thereupon I sent away a Messenger with a Billet, wherein I earnestly desired him to return to Paris, having something of importance to impart to him; and for the more speed, I ordered the Messenger to take Post. He found him ready to go for Holland; but not being able to withstand my Orders, he laid aside those Thoughts, and returned immediately to Paris.   

Book the Seventh.  
IN the mean time, Madam de Chatillon was so importunate with me to conclude my own, and my Son's Marriage, that I thought it my Duty no longer to dally with her. I told her therefore, that for my own part I was fully resolved not to marry; only if she could so bring it to pass that my Son might marry the Duke's Daughter, the Obligation she would lay upon me, would be still the same. But she told me, the Duke would never consent to the Marriage of my Son, unless he married me first. To which I answered, that if it were so, there was no farther thinking either of the One or the Other. Upon which Madam de Chatillon upbraided me with having little Affection for my Son, since he would never meet with a Match so Advantageous as the Duke's Daughter. But I replied, that my Son was too young to think of Marriage, and that I had no mind to sacrifice my Liberty and Repose to his Interests. I see now, said Madam de Chatillon, that you intent to marry St. Albe. Which words she uttered in such a Tone, as hindered me at first from acknowledging it to be my real design. If you marry him, added she, you will commit a great piece of Folly: It is a Match that will be universally condemned; and besides, I am afraid 'tis a Match of Inclination. Afterwards she laid before me the Inconveniences that would attend it. Notwithstanding all this, because it was my Interest that Madam de Chatillon should approve my Resolution to marry St. Albe, I gave her such a Portraiture of the Man as did not displease her; and when I showed her his last Letter, she altered her mind. After she had read it, she told me, that she pitied St. Albe, and that she would not advise me to abandon him to his despair.  
You may easily judge how joyful I was to see that Madam de Chatillon approved my Design. What a pleasure it is to be applauded in our Wishes and Desires! After that, I made no scruple to discover my heart to a Friend who confirmed me in my Sentiments. I acknowledged to her that I had refused the Duke for no other reason, but only because I was resolved to marry St. Albe; that I was moved with his ill Fortune; and that after what he had done for me, I looked upon it as a piece of Treachery and Ingratitude to forsake him. Madam de Chatillon commended my Generosity, and promised to serve me as far as lay in her power; but she told me withal, that my Marriage was to be kept secret; and I resigned all my Concerns into her hands. Then send St. Albe to my House, replied she; 'tis requisite that I should talk with him first, and that I should fully understand him, before I acquaint him with his Happiness: For if he resembles other Men, I would never advise ye to marry him. 'Tis necessary, that before you make him your Husband, you should be sure; that you may have nothing to tax yourself with afterwards; and that you know whether he can make you so happy as you expect.  
I was glad that Madam de Chatillon was pleased to take upon her the trouble; well assured that St. Albe would appear to her the same that she would have him to be; and besides, I was not sorry that any other but myself should prepare him for a Happiness which he so little expected. It came into my mind also, that while Madam de Chatillon took upon her this Affair, I might be able to say, that 'twas She who had advised me to it. And I desired no more than to be able to clear myself from every thing that might be objected against my Conduct in this respect.  
After I parted with Madam de Chatillon, I met with St. Albe, who tarried for me at my Lodging. I told him, that I could not but disapprove a scrupulous Niceness, that would not suffer him to be beholding to me; that I knew the Condition of his Affairs, and that I had thought of a way to set him up again, of which Madam de Chatillon would tell him more; that what we had designed to do for him would be no Obstacle to my Marriage with the Duke of— At which last words St. Albe immediately changed Colour— Alas, Madam, said he, why have you sent for me back? for in your presence that strength fails me which I had remote from your sight. Go to Madam de Chatillon, said I, she will revive your Courage. Which said, I would not permit him to speak any more, but sent him away. I must confess however, that had he stayed but never so little longer, I should not have had the power to have concealed my Intentions from him. For I was nothing scrupulous of my Sentiments since Madam de Chatillon approved 'em.  
The next day St. Albe went to wait upon Madam de Chatillon, who showing him the last Letter which he had written to me, and which she had then in her own Custody; What was your Design, said she, in writing this Letter? Confess the truth, did not you believe it would have wrought with the Marchioness to have broke off her Marriage with the Duke of—? For if it were true that you approved that Marriage, you would have left her to conclude it without saying any thing. I will not dissemble with you, added she; for it is manifest by this Letter, that you did fancy to yourself ridiculous hopes, and that you imagined that for love of you, a match so much to her advantage would have been broken off. Is it possible that you should so little understand yourself, or that you should be ignorant how impossible it is for my Friend to marry you? This Lecture put St. Albe quite out of Countenance, who after a silence for some time, Madam, said He, what is there so Criminal in that Letter? or where have I given Demonstrations of those vain Hopes for which you blame me? Never dissemble, replied Madam de Chatillon, you love the Marchioness, you believe her to be in love with you, and you would have her marry ye? Who I! Madam— answered St. Albe; No— Madam— so far from it, that were it her desire, I would be the first to oppose it. I have too high a value for her Honour, to allow that she should prefer an Unfortunate Beggar, who has nothing but an Honest Heart, before a Person that is going to exalt her to that Illustrious degree which she deserves above any Person in the World. I am glad, said Madam Chatillon, to hear ye confirm what you have writ to her; for I must not conceal it from you, that the Marchioness would hardly be induced to marry the Duke of— did she not believe you to be so just a Person as to consent to it: you have been already too badly used by Fortune, to be loaded with more sorrows; 'twas her pleasure therefore, I should see you, that I might prepare you for this Marriage; and to show you that you are still in her thoughts, she is resolved to give or lend you forty Thousand Crowns to set you up in the World again; with this you must be content, and I must tell you, few Women would have been so generous. But this is not all, she and I have consulted together, and we have some thoughts of helping you to a Wife; and it will be your fault if you do not marry a handsome Lady that will bring you a fair Fortune. If you love the Marchioness, you will promise me to accept of this Match. This is that you must resolve upon, nor shall you stir from hence, till you have promised to marry the person that we recommend to your Affection. I promise you, Madam, whatever may contribute to render the Marchioness happy. I married once already for the Love of her; and you may assure her, that in loving her I ne'er conceived the least vain hope of what you seemed to intimate: I only made my happiness consist in loving her, and I will always love her. You would talk at another rate, replied Madam Chatillon, interrupting him, were you her Husband: believe me, Wedlock altars the strongest Inclinations; and were the Marchioness inclined to marry ye, I would persuade her to the contrary, for fear lest Wedlock should have the same effect upon you. Wherefore, Madam, cried St. Albe, does your Ladyship take such delight in tormenting, by soothing me with those Ideas with which I never flattered myself? I will amuse ye then no longer, replied the Duchess, the Marchioness intends to marry ye. She is an unwary Woman, who in so doing follows her own Inclination, never considering to what Extremities this Marriage will expose her. But I hope that you will be more discreet than she; and that 'tis none of your desire that she should render herself ridiculous to all the Kingdom. St. Albe, upon those words, beheld the Duchess with an awful silence, and perceiving she had done, Madam, said he, I cannot not think you serious in your Discourse: I never flattered myself that the Marchioness had so much inclination for me, as you would seem to persuade me: but if it be true, that her design is the same which you mention, I am assured that the infinite Respect and Love which I shall have for her till the separation of Death, will justify her Choice; and that there is no Body that will censure her for marrying the only person who atall times did justice to her merit; I loved her as soon as I saw her; from that very time I never ceased to adore her; and the love which I have for her has been always steadfast and permanent. Can it be possible, added he, transported with Delight, and throwing himself at Madam de Chatillon's Feet, that the Marchioness should have any such design as that wherewith you bless my Ears? Oh Madam, in the Name of God, I beseech ye never to oppose it. If you love her, you ought to desire her happiness: I dare presume to say, that I am the only person who can make her happy.— Here his Tears stopped him, and would not permit him to say more. Madam de Chatillon also felt herself wholly vanquished; and raising him from the ground, No, said she, I shall never oppose your Union; she can also tell ye, that 'twas I who confirmed her in her resolution to marry ye. And I can farther assure ye, that if she does not marry you, she will never be Wife to any other Person.  
In what an Ecstasy of Delight and Satisfaction was overjoyed St. Albe, when he heard such Confirmations of his Felicity as these! He embraced the Duchess' Knees, conjuring her at the same time to deal sincerely with him. Madam de Chatillon answered him, that to let him see, she did not deceive him, she would send for me; which she did, and I as soon repaired to her Lodgings, impatient to know what had passed between 'em, where St. Albe was still upon his Knees when I entered the Room. 'Tis well y'are come, Madam, said she, for I know not what to do; and if you do not take some speedy care, I'm afraid St. Alhe will die at my Feet. I knew not what the Duchess had said to him, and therefore seeing him in that condition, I was afraid she had put him into a fit of despair, by telling him that I intended to marry the Duke of—. Scared with these thoughts, Ah, Madam, said I, you have been too cruel to put the poor St. Albe in pain— and to St. Albe, cried I, What has she told ye, that so terribly afflicts ye?— Then turning to me, and embracing my Knees in the same manner,— No, Madam, cried he, I cannot believe what I have heard— my happiness is so unconceivable, that it astonishes me. I was then afraid lest Madam de Chatillon had told him too much; and blushing, I asked him, what happiness it was had so transported him? Alas, Madam, replied he, I am not able to express it; all that I am sensible of is only this, that I adore ye; I wish that you could read it in my heart. I find then, replied I, that Madam de Chatillon has betrayed me, and 'tis in vain to dissemble any longer. Rise, St. Albe, and hearken to me; I love you; and all that you have done for me for these dozen years together has convinced me that you merit my Affection. I never thought that the Disposal of Providence would order things in such a manner as to testify the impression which your Accomplishments have made in my heart. I must also tell ye farther, that though we are now in a fair way both you and I to a lasting Union, I should hardly have resolved upon it, had ●ot your misfortunes deprived ye of your Estate. But now you  
'Tis true, 'twas Passion that fixed my Resolution to marry St. Albe; but I saw nothing of so much inequality in the Match, that was any way a lessening to my Honour. He was a Gentleman, and a Person of singular merit: And I am persuaded, that had he been as rich as I, they who blamed the Marriage most of all, would have been the first Advisers of me to it. For my part, I was not of their Opinions that, Estate and Fortune are to be the Rules of Wedlock; but on the other side, the less St. Albe was worth, the more I thought myself obliged to do things generously. But Generosity is not a Virtue that men imagine we ought to boast of when we marry. That Engagement is only looked upon as a driven Bargain, where we are to propose nothing to ourselves but Profit and Interest. But I insist too much upon the Justification of my Conduct: 'tis enough for me, that my Marriage was approved by all those that are endued with noble and virtuous Sentiments.  
St. Albe was nothing altered in his Behaviour after he had married me, but rather redoubled his Consideration and Respect for me. I thought myself then going to lead a Life of Happiness and Tranquillity: But I was not yet arrived at the end of my Sorrows. My Marriage being made public, all the Women, except Madam de Chatillon, forsook me, lamenting my ill Conduct: And had you heard 'em, you would have thought they would have more easily excused a piece of forbidden Gallantry then this Lawful Marriage. Such is the Unjustice of the World, to judge of things by fantastical Conceit and Capriccio. They pardoned me no more for having married a man that I loved, then formerly for having sought a Separation from a Husband that I could not endure.  
The Old Count of— who had served me in my former Misfortunes, took my part at Court, and came to visit me, on purpose to give me an Account of the Good Offices he did me, by answering those that told Idle Tales and Stories to the Queen concerning my Marriage. At my House he met with Mrs. Laval, with whom he entered into a long Conversation. She was witty and comely withal; and the Count took a liking to her. He judged by her Fidelity, and her constant Adherence to me, that a man might be happy in his old Age to have a Woman of her Character; and with these, and perhaps some other Considerations, he returned the next day, renewed his Discourse with Mrs. Laval, and in eight days after made her a proposal of marriage: And though he had Children married, yet for her he was a considerable Match. For my part, I had such a desire to see Mrs. Laval advanced to a degree becoming her Merit and her Virtue, that I spared for nothing to bring about the Match. At length the old Count married her, but kept a private Wedding, and the Marriage being a Secret, his new Wife remained at my House; whither while the old Count came every day to her, People began to talk of them, as they did of St. Albe and me, when they thought we were not married.  
The Count therefore, to stop the Mouth of Scandal, declared his Marriage, carried his Wife, whom henceforward I must call the Countess of— to his own House, and caused all the Honours to be paid her, that were due to the Wife of a Person of his Quality.  
Nevertheless, the Old Count's Marriage became a Story full of divertisement; and they who had enured their Tongues to Scandal and Calumny, could not forbear talking. They renewed the Stories of my past gallantries, and failed not to bring in the Countess of— for her share, of whom they told a hundred Idle Tales.  
I found myself in this manner become a third time a prey to Envy and Reproach. Which when they fasten once upon any Woman, let her Conduct be never so void of Offence, she cannot shun the Whirrits of their Malice.  
The Children of the Count of— beheld their Father's Marriage with an Evil Eye; and not being able to null it, they endeavoured at least to poison the pleasure of it. To which purpose they maliciously ordered Letters to be delivered to the Count, wherein they gave him Hypocritical Advertisements of my irregular Life, and that the Countess his Wife was my Companion and Sharer in all my Pleasures.  
The Count, who was a Person but of weak Parts, gave credit to those Letters, became jealous, and desired his Wife to see me no more. But she refused to give him that Satisfaction, convinced as she was, that he was in the wrong to require it of her: Withal she conjured him to tell her who infused into him those vain Suspicions of my Conduct. Upon that he showed her the Letters he had received, and she thought she knew the Hand: she also showed 'em to me, and I found they were written by Blossac. He was both a Friend and nearly related to the Children of the Count of— and in regard he was acquainted with my first Adventures, it was an easy thing for him to make what use of 'em he pleased, as he had done in those Letters: For there was nothing more lewdly invented, no● more unworthy an honest Gentleman, than what he sent to the Count  
Though I had an Opinion bad enough of Blossac, yet I did not think he could have been guilty of so much Baseness; nor could I divine any other Reason for it, unless it were out of despite for the deserved Scorn that I had put upon him. My second Marriage had more incensed him; whether that he were naturally an Enemy to every thing that was a pleasure to me, or that in despite of his wicked Disposition, he had still preserved some remainders of a passion for me. For th●●● are some People who let lose their fury against a Woman, for no other Reason, but because they cannot forbear having an affection for her. They revenge themselves upon her for the want of merit, which renders 'em despicable in her Eyes: Nor do I believe there can be any Enemies more dangerous to the Reputation of Women, than Lovers that cannot gain the reciprocal Affection of their Mistresses.  
The Countess then, no longer doubting but that the Letters were written by Blossac, gave her Husband a desccription of him, and demanded justice of him for the Calumnies thrown upon her. The Count, who was a Man of sincerity, but somewhat of a rude and unpolished nature, swore that if it were Blossac who had written those Letters, he would force him either to prove his foppish Tales, or else make him eat his words. Presently the Count went to look for him, and having found him, he asked him whether he had writ the Letters which he had received? But instead of returning an Answer, Blossac fell a laughing; and then with the Air of a Person zealous for the Count's Interest, he told him, that he had nothing to object against his Wife; only he was willing, as his Friend and Servant, to let him know that I was very bad Company, that no body was better acquainted with me than he, for that he had formerly been a sharer of my Favours; till finding me to be a perfect Coquette, he forbore my Company. Mon. Blossac, says the Count, this that you say deserves a serious Consideration: My Wife has told me other things, which no way agree with what you tell me: Come along then, and let us see whether you will make good these Stories to her Face. Blossac answered, that he was not a Person 〈◊〉 was to be compelled to give such strict Accounts; that he had done the duty of a Friend to inform him of what he knew; and that he might make what use of his kindness he pleased; if not, he might let it alone. And having so said, he would have snatched the Letters out of the Count's hands; but the Count lifting up his Cane, threatened to use him like a Rascal as he was. Upon which Blossac drew; but he was compelled to put up his Sword and retire. The Count made a great noise about this Adventure; he complained also to the Queen, and soon after Blossac was committed to the Bastille. But though he appeared to be guilty enough, I was not looked upon as innocent. 'Twas believed that he was not committed to the Bastille for the Falsehoods written in his Letters, but for having uttered Truth, which a Civil Gentleman is never allowed to publish. So that all the Ridiculous Stories that had been so often and so unjustly attributed to me, were renewed upon occasion of this Quarrel.  
This Tempest was no sooner calmed, but the Death of my Mother, which happened about the same time, gave an occasion for the raising of new Batteries against my Reputation. Tho all the Estate that was at her disposal was but very small, yet she made a Will, by which she disinherited both me and my Son, and left what she had to a Kinsman a far off, a Man that was hardly known in the World. This Kinsman, desirous to make the best of the Will, finding he should be hardly able to make it good, endeavoured to insinuate into the Public, that the reason why my Mother had disinherited me, was, because to her certain knowledge, she was assured that my Son was none of my Husband's. And for proof of this, he published the Reasons which my Mother had given of her being so well assured; that is to say, he revived whatever my Husband had formerly invented to ruin me. All which Scandals had been so often reported, so often refuted, that I wondered there should be still any People so vain as to give themselves the trouble of renewing 'em. But it is not with Calumny and Reproach, as with other things that displease and grow nauseous with being often repeated. Stories that have been told a thousand times over, are still new, when they are revived to the prejudice of another; and there are People who have itching Ears, and who are always ready to listen to 'em.  
Soon after the Count had wedded Madam Laval, I married my Son, and at another time it would have been the greatest grief to me in the World to have lived apart from two Persons so dear to me; but I had a Husband, the Consolation of whose Company made full amends for those Lesser Disquiets. We spent the Winters at Paris; and when he departed for the Army, I retired to one of my Manors, where I had no greater pleasure, then to write to him, and receive Letters from him. Three years of my Marriage we spent in perfect Union; nothing troubled our Felicity: And in truth, all the honour of so happy a Union was due to St. Albe. For never did man accompany his tenderness with more respect and good humour; but men were never born to enjoy an uninterrupted and lasting Happiness in this World.  
The Manor where I made my usual Residence, when my Husband was in the Army, adjoined to the Estate of a Gentleman whom I must call the Count of Velley: A Person whom particular Reasons had obliged to quit the Service, and who had purchased a considerable Employment in the Province. Now in regard he was not satisfied with the Court, he rarely went thither; nevertheless his Business called him frequently to Paris. This Person, so soon as he had made himself acquainted with St. Albe and myself, proposed to us the letting him have an Apartment in our House at Paris. He was a Widower, and had only one Daughter about Eighteen years of Age, whom he had caused to be bred up in a Convent. However, Velley was yet young enough, well shaped, and had a great deal of Wit: He was born with so great an Inclination for all sorts of Sciences, and was so studiously addicted to 'em, that he had attained to a considerable perfection in 'em: But among all the Good Qualities, he had one very Bad one, which had like to have ruined St. Albe and myself, and which we never were so curious as to mistrust.  
Velley, who could not believe, after all that had been reported of me in the World, that I was an Enemy to Gallantry, took a fancy to court me. Now in regard I was not sensible of any Inclination for him, I was not offended with the marks which he gave me of his Love; I treated him also after such a manner as made him believe I was not displeased with his Courtship: I also perceived what he drove at, because he redoubled his Sedulities, and gave me sufficient Intimations that he was passionately in love with me. Till than I little minded his Courtship; but when I found him in earnest, I carried myself more warily, and so behaved myself toward him, as to let him see there was no hopes. And whether it were that my entire devotion to my Husband made him forbear his Courtship, or whether he looked upon my Severity as an Artifice which I made use of to engage him the more, he spoke no more to me concerning his Passion, and we began to live together as if he had never mentioned any such thing to me.  
St. Albe returned from the Army, and we went to spend the Winter at Paris. Velley accompanied us, and having fetched his Daughter out of the Convent, presented her to me. She was witty, and cheerful in her humour, and I was glad of such a pleasant Companion in my House. 'Tis true that her Beauty was so lively and so charming, that had I been never so little addicted to Jealousy, or rather could I have imagined that St. Albe, who loved only Me and the War, could have been of a humour to alter his Inclination, I might have been afraid of her Allurements. I gladly therefore accepted Velley's Proposal to let him have an Apartment in my House, though my Husband told me it would be inconvenient to lodge Strangers under the same Roof: but I assured him they were People that would be no trouble to us in the World. He was not accustomed to contradict me, and therefore would not oppose a thing which I seemed to desire; but added he with a smile, blame no body but yourself for what may happen, for Mademoiselle de Velley is very amiable. I answered him also with a smile, that instead of alarumming myself at that, I desired he might find her to his humour, for I loved him too well to dislike what he loved. But he found too soon that I did not mean as I said.  
About a Month Velley and his Daughter had lived with us, when I perceived that St. Albe laboured with a secret melancholy that tormented him, and which he strove to conceal under various Infirmities of which he complained; he spent the Nights without sleeping; he sighed continually, and me thought he avoided the sight of me; for when I came to him to ask him what he ailed, he shunned me, and sighing only cried that he was very ill. This began to disturb me, and I desired him to enter into a Course of Physic, to which he answered, that nothing but death could cure him. I redoubled my cares and my Caresses, which he coldly received, and which I attributed to his Distemper; I judged him to be very sick indeed, since instead of being a comfort, I was become a trouble to him. I was so persuaded that his indifference for me was no other than an Effect of his Disease, that I durst not complain of it for fear of adding to the pain of his distemper, the trouble which I thought it would be to to him, should he perceive me to be discontented with him. I made it my Business to divert him, and in regard that Velley was a Jolly-man, I desired his Conversation. But I found that his Company rather augmented then lessened my Husband's Disturbances: only methought that Mademoiselle de Velley's appearance gave him some Relief.  
This began to create disturbances within me of another nature: I felt Suspicions and Jealousy brooding in my Breast. But than thought I to myself, if he loves Mademoiselle de Velley, wherefore does his Love make him sick, since he sees her every day, and she, if I mistake not, no way seems displeased with his Company? It must be doubtless then Remorse of Conscience for being thus perfidious to me; and he seeks to punish himself for his falseness in loving another.  
I had so good an opinion of him, that I made no question but that his sickness, supposing he did love Mademoiselle de Velley, proceeded from his being ashamed of his having Sentiments offensive to me; but then again I was as soon of another mind, and thought him like those Husbands who cannot endure the sight of their Wives when once they become unfaithful. While I was rolling these thoughts in my mind, Velley entered my Chamber, seemingly pierced with Grief and Vexation: in which condition, when I asked him what he ailed, Madam, said he, I have strange News to tell ye,— you hear behold a Man at his Wit's end— of necessity I must leave your House— I understand your Husband Monsieur Albe's Disease— Here are two Letters which he has written to my Daughter, and which I intercepted— read 'em, and then tell me, whether I am not the most unfortunate man in the World to come to your House, to be the trouble of your felicity and Repose. I took the Letters, trembling, I opened 'em, and found the Hand to be St. Albe's. The first contained the following Expressions.  
The LETTER.  
WHY lay ye to my Charge my Affection to my Wife? Is it because you are not convinced after all that I have said to ye, that Acknowledgement only forces me to have some sort of value for her. I married her only to raise my Fortune; but 'tis my Heart, 'tis Inclination and Choice that fix me to yourself; and if you continue your Rigours, you will certainly be the cause of my death.  
'Tis impossible to express the shame and indignation that seized me after I had read this Letter. I had not strength enough to read the other, but Velley pressed me to peruse it, and it was thus indicted:  
The LETTER.  
COnfess, that the Reproaches which you cast upon me about Madam de St. Albe, are but a Pretence which you make use of to conceal from me the Aversion you have for me. For in short, what would you have me do to convince ye that I hate my Wife, since what I do every day before your Eyes, is not sufficient to persuade ye of the Truth? You see I can hardly endure to look upon her. What!— what would you have me stab her! to let you see how odious she is to me?—  
Ah, Perfidious Wretch! Cried I, how hast thou been able to delude me all this while!— No— I will not not follow thy Example— but it behoves me to be revenged of a Traitor— My Sighs and Tears would not permit me to say more— and how it came to pass, I did not die under the pressure of my over-whelming sorrows, I cannot say.   

Book the Eighth.  
VElley strove to comfort me, and asked me, what Satisfaction I desired his Daughter should make me? 'Tis not your Daughter, said I, that I complain against, but against a Man who has abused my most sincere and constant Love. Speak, Madam, replied Velley, what Commands will you be pleased to lay upon me; I adore ye, I will sacrifice my life to serve you in your revenge; for I must not dissemble with you, the injury done you has renewed in my heart all those Sentiments of Kindness and Affection which formerly my Love disclosed to your Disdain. Let your Husband alone to follow his indiscreet Passion: I'll answer for my Daughter, that her Virtue shall sufficiently punish him for his Treachery. And as for yourself, Madam, forget an unworthy Husband were it only to make a happy change, and vow your Embraces to a Lover that adores ye.  
I was at that instant so deeply persuaded of St. Albe's infidelity, and so resolved to revenge myself, that I harkened to every thing that Velley said to me; and I thought that the more he loved me, the more ready I should find him to assist me with his Counsel and his Services; and to tell ye the whole Truth, I must confess my Vanity was so humbled by St. Albe's Contempt, that I would have listened to any man that would have but pretended to afford me Consolation. For the supplies of Pride are infinite in the heart of a Woman.  
I desired Velley not to forsake me; but to assist me as a Friend. He advised me to take no notice to my Husband of any thing that he had said to me; and as he went out of my Chamber, he told me he was going to study some pretence or other to put his Daughter into a Convent; and indeed he carried her that very day to St. Anthony's Abbey.  
After this Discourse I went to Bed, where I was seized with a Fever. St. Albe desired to see me; but I desired him to let me take my rest: however he came into the Room without my leave. He took me by the Arm, and as he was feeling my Pulse, I perceived the Tears that trickled from his Eyes. He asked me whether I knew that Velley had carried his Daughter to a Convent? But I made him no answer: for I believed the tears he shed to be no other than the effect of his Grief for being separated from his Mistress. He conjured me to take care of my Health, but still I made him no answer; so that he was forced to leave me.  
I spent that Night but very ill; and the next Morning they told me that my Husband desired to see me; but I sent him word that I had need of rest, not having slept a wink all night. With that he went away; and about Noon a Letter was brought me from him; and I was also farther given to understand that he had taken Horse, without leaving any word whither he was gone. The Contents of the Letter were these.  
The LETTER.  
SInce my Presence, Madam, is an Obstacle to your Health, and that I am one of those Testimonies whom you desire to be soon rid of, I take my leave of you for ever; if you chance to hear of the death of him who robbed me of your heart, seek no farther for the Author of it then myself. I wish that time would give me strength to forget you, even to desire no further revenge. It is not necessary the Public should be informed of our Differences; but you may tell those who ask you what is become of me, That Business has call●d me into the Province.  
This Letter I read over and over again above twenty times, yet could not apprehend the meaning of it. Could it be possible, thought 〈◊〉 to give him any occasion to suspect my Loyalty? No, 'tis a pretence which he takes to lay the blame at my door. But to what purpose does he absent himself? 'Tis because he thinks I love him too well to endure him out of my sight; he believes me ignorant of his infidelity; he knows I am sick; and desiring my death, he picks a quarrel with me, that he may quite overwhelm me. For what else can be his aim in betraying me? Alas, continued I with tears in my Eyes, 'tis I who ought to complain that his heart is taken from me. Is it possible that St. Albe, that St. Albe, so different from all other men, should be capable of so foul a Treason! These were the Reflections which I made; for I was so prepossessed against him, that it never came into my mind that he might be innocent.  
After Dinner Velley came to see me, and gave me an account how he had carried his Daughter to a Convent: he told me also that she went with a hearty good will, as being tormented to the soul to be the occasion of St. Albe's being in love with any other but his own Wife. I told Velley that he had left Paris; at which he seemed to be in a great fit of Admiration, and buzzed it into my Head, that St. Albe was meditating violence to his Daughter. Then I showed him St. Albe's Letter, at which he seemed to be more surprised; and after he had stood a while in a Brown study, he told me that my Husband had wrote to me in that manner for no other reason but to puzzle and amuse me, and to oblige me perhaps to run after him, but that it behoved me to stand upon my guard; for that if I did not keep steadfast, he would make an ill use of my weakness and my fondness for him. Velley would afterwards have entertained me with Vows and Protestations, and a long Preamble of his Passion; but I cut him off short, and told him that besides other reasons which I had for not harkening to him, my Husband's Letter furnished me with one more: for in regard I thought he was in part suspected by St. Albe, I was willing to shun him. Afterwards I desired him to change his Lodging, under pretence that it did not look well for a stranger to lie in my House, while my Husband was absent.  
I showed the Letters which St. Albe had written to Mademoiselle de Velley, to the Countess of— as also the Letter which he had written to me upon his going out of Town. She told me, she understood nothing of the Business; but that she feared that both St. Albe and I were deceived. 'Tis requisite, added she, that I should see and discourse Mademoiselle de Velley, perhaps I might then pick out something of the Truth. I approved her Contrivance, and away she went to St. Anthony's Abbey to find the young Lady; but the Bird was flown; and the Abbess told her that her Father had sent for her from thence to put her into another House. The Countess coming back to bring me the News, found Velley with me, who swore he knew nothing of the matter, and therefore it must certainly be my Husband, who had made use of his Name to carry away his Daughter●▪ At the same time also away he ran, pretending to inform himself more fully of the Particulars; and returning in the Evening, he told me his Conjectures were too true; that his Daughter was lost, and that he would prosecute my Husband, who was the only man that could be suspected for having stolen his Daughter. To which purpose he desired me to return him his Letters, which would be of great service to him in point of Evidence. But I refused to deliver 'em; for I had still some remainders of kindness for St. Albe, which made me earnestly request Velley to desist from all Proceedings against him. I confess I had some reason to urge it for the sake of my own Honour; but I was more concerned for St. Albe's Reputation.  
In the mean time a Report was spread abroad in Paris, that St. Albe and I were parted; 'twas also said, that I desired to be rid of him, because he was an Obstacle to my familiarity with Velley. And all this while I kept my Bed, detained there rather by my own Vexations, then by any Distemper that troubled me. I also pressed Velley to leave my House, because his Lodging in it at such a Conjuncture, authorised the greatest part of the Scandals that flew abroad. And well it was I was rid of him; for no sooner was he got to his new Lodging, but he was apprehended by the King's Order, and carried to the Bastile.  
I made no question but that St. Albe had really stolen Mademoiselle de Velley; nevertheless, though I was truly incensed against him for his Perfidiousness, yet I could not choose but be afraid of the danger that threatened him for stealing the Young Lady; and I was extremely troubled because I knew not what was become of him; neither would I inquire after him, because I was unwilling to let him have the pleasure to know that I troubled myself about him. I was haughty enough to conceal the weakness which I found myself still sensible of for an Ingrateful Person, who as I thought deserved my hatred.  
Two or three days after Velley was apprehended, I received a Letter from his Daughter, who sent me word that she was in the Abbey Aux-Bois, where she desired to see me. You may be sure I did not at all defer that Visit, but taking the Letters which my Husband had written to Mademoiselle de Velley, away I went in haste to the Abbey Aux Bois.  
There I found her so much the more afflicted for the confinement of her Father, because she was ignorant of the reason of his Commitment: And I was so impatient to be informed of what I desired to know, that instead of cheering her up, I asked her briskly where my Husband was, and whether he had not fetched her out of St. Anthony's Convent? He! Madam, answered Mademoiselle de Velley in great Surprise, what business of his was that? 'twas my Father fetched me from thence to put me here. How! replied I, with some commotion of mind, is it not true that my Husband courts ye? No— I'll assure ye, replied she, nor do I apprehend the meaning of these surprising Questions. What think ye then of these Letters, answered I, showing her the Letters which Velley had given me. I know not what to say to 'em, replied Mademoiselle de Velley, after she had read 'em, but I never received any Letters from Monsieur de St. Albe, nor did he ever declare to me that he had any such Passion for me. Ah! Mademoiselle, cried I with a more than ordinary agitation, if what you tell me be true, where am I, or what have I done? If my Husband be innocent, how guilty am I! Mademoiselle de Velley was extremely astonished to hear me talk at that rate: Her Astonishment too appeared to me unfeigned, which made me ask her more Questions, and her Answers confirmed me in my thoughts that Velley must have imposed upon me. However, the Letters seemed to me to be St. Albe's own Handwriting, and I judged that he might have written 'em to some other Person. Upon that, I asked Mademoiselle de Velley if ever my Husband had said any thing to her concerning her Father's making love to me? She answered that St. Albe had never mentioned any such thing to her; but that by his Sighs and his profound Sadness he seemed to her to be assured that there was an Intrigue between Velley and Myself. I blamed her for not having given me notice of it: However, now believing I had dived to the bottom of the Villainy that had been put upon me, I desired Mademoiselle de Velley to go along with me home; to which the Abbess was the more willing to consent, persuaded that I took her away, that she might be the more at liberty to solicit her Father's Enlargement. This made all People believe that I was concerned for Valley's Confinement, and that we corresponded in private. But I valued not what they could say; my Business was only to clear up the truth of a Mystery, wherein I began to perceive that a Surprise had been put upon me. My Cautions vanished then, lest St. Albe should think I ran after him; I ordered him to be sought for in all places where I thought he might be found. But I could hear no tidings of him, and I saw myself become a prey to all the most dreadful Torments of Grief and Disquiet. I did whatever lay in my power to discover the truth of this Adventure, and used my utmost endeavours to speak with Velley, in hopes he might be able to afford me full satisfaction; but no body was permitted to come to him; so that I fell sick again, and Grief had infallibly killed me, had not an unknown Person put into my hands a Packet of Letters directed to me. I knew St. Albe's Hand and Seal, which made me open 'em in great haste, to read the following Lines.  
LETTER.  
I Send you, Madam, the Letters which convinced me of your Infidelity and my Misfortune. Judge by the reading of 'em what effect they were most likely to produce in a heart that adored you: I cannot survive this Change of Yours. I have lost the desire of revenge, because I cannot do it without publishing your Inconstancy. After a languishing Life I am going to my Grave; and I love you still so well as not to be ashamed of a Death which all the World will attribute to my weakness; but which perhaps will not appear to you so full of shame, whenever you are pleased to call to remembrance how dearly I have always loved ye.  
After I had read this Letter, I opened with the same impatience the Letters enclosed, and which contained the Proof of my Infidelity. And indeed the Hand and Style of these Letters was so like my own, that if I had not certainly known that I never wrote 'em, I should have been deceived. The Contents were these.  
LETTER.  
WHerefore d'ye upbraid me thus with what I did for my Husband? 'Tis a piece of cruelty to recall to my remembrance Things that overwhelm me with sorrow. Is it not sufficient that I here declare that I only live at present for your sake; since I have made you master of my Person and my Heart, can you envy what I did for another out of civility and necessity? Find out a way to deliver me from his sight, and to remove those troublesome Testimonies that torment me.  
I had not patience to read the rest of the Letters which were all of the same nature: For now I no longer doubted but that my Hand had been counterfeited as well as St. Albe's, and that the whole was done by Velley. In short, 'twas he who wrote 'em; for he had a singular Talon to counterfeit all manner of Hands; and as afterwards I understood, he was sent to the Bastile for having counterfeited the Hand of a Great Minister of State. I was then sensible of the Fraud that had then put upon me, and without losing a moment's time, I enquired of him that brought the Packet, where my Husband was. I understood by him that he was at St. Florentin: Thither I flew in a Post-Calash, and in Thirty hours I arrived where St. Albe was. I found him very sick, and almost past his Senses, as it were gasping between Life and Death. I threw myself about his Neck, and embracing him, with Tears in my Eyes, I cried out aloud, My Dear St. Albe look upon your own Wife. He opened his Eyes, I redoubled my Outcries, and Embraces, and at last I perceived that he began to know me. 'Tis not to be expressed what then I felt in my heart; and I believe that never any Person was sensible of the like; for where is that Woman that ever was under the same Circumstances?  
Half an hour after St. Albe came perfectly to himself, and knew me exactly: However, he had not strength enough to speak; only his feeble hands by grasping mine, expressed his meaning; and I saw the Tears come trickling from his Eyes; which was the cause I felt two contrary Passions at the same time struggling in my Breast, Joy and Grief. How grieved was I to see him in that plight! how overjoyed to find him still the same in affection and tenderness! How dearly soever I loved him before, I never felt till then such tender motions.  
St. Albe by degrees recovered strength, and I gave him an account of Velley's Villainy, showing him the Letters which he had counterfeited. But he was no sooner convinced of my Innocency, but he had like to have relapsed into the same Condition from which I had recovered him, such were the effects of his Grief, Repentance and Joy; Oh, Madam, said he, I am unworthy of your Goodness: Is it possible I should be so base to suspect your Virtue? I ought to have disinherited my own Eyes, rather than have injured your Virtue, as I have done. Revenge yourself, dear Madam, upon a Husband so unworthy your Embraces, and let me die to make an Atonement for such unmanly Jealousies. Live, answered I, my dear St. Albe, if you desire that I should live; 'tis I that am th' Offender; 'tis I that never understood your Real worth; and had I not been quite forsaken by my Senses, I could ne'er have thought it in your power to become unfaithful. These Renovations of Conjugal Friendship contributed more than all the Doctor's Prescriptions to St. Albe's Cure. So that in a little time he was in a condition to travel, and we returned to Paris, to the wonder of all those who had been Testimonies of this Adventure.  
In the mean time Velley killed himself in Prison to avoid the Punishment he foresaw would be inflicted on him. A Death so terrible was a greater revenge for the Villainous Legerdemain that he had played us, and we began to pity his Daughter. And therefore, knowing well she had no share in her Father's Crime, we solicited for her, and prevented the Confiscation of her Estate.  
This Adventure which had thus embroiled my Husband and I, did but serve to unite us more lovingly together: I began to relish the Delights of my Marriage, and never was St. Albe more kind and obliging then after that time. And therefore in retaliation, I thought it my duty to spare for nothing that might render him happy. The Employment of— which I purchased for him in the King's Household made all people murmur, and set my Relations all in an uproar about my Ears. But St. Albe was esteemed at Court for his true Merit; and he performed an Action besides, which stopped the Mouths of his Detractors, and made 'em judge more clearly of his Character. He had a tender love for my Son, because he was my Son, and for that he had a high value for every thing that belonged to me. He had no sooner obtained the Government of— which the King conferred upon him without ask, in recompense of his good Services; but he obtained a Grant of his Employment for my Son, and made him a Present of it. On the other side, my Husband still bare in mind a lively resentment of Blossac's ungenteel Practices to my prejudice, and had long waited an opportunity of revenge, which at last Fortune put into his hands.  
They Both served in Flanders; where St. Albe understanding that Blossac made it his Business to speak disgracefully of Me and himself in all Company that he frequented, his Patience could no longer contain itself. He forgot the Prohibitions against Duelling for my sake, and sent Blossac a Challenge: Blossac met him at a private Place at a distance from the Camp, where while they were actually engaged one against the other, they were surrounded by a Party of the Enemy; and instead of duelling each other, were forced to defend themselves. Blossac was presently wounded, and constrained to surrender to three Troopers, who disputing whose Prisoner he should be, were about to have knocked out Blossac's Brains, when St. Albe, who had disengaged himself from those that surrunded him, perceiving Blossac's danger, forgot his private Enmity, and flying to his Succour, fell upon the three Troopers that had taken him, killed one, and putting the other two to flight, saved Blossac's Life, and rescued him from the Danger he was in. 'Tis true that St. Albe was assisted by some Officers of our Troops, who observing some Passages between him and Blossac, and seeing 'em Both walk off together privately from the Camp, followed 'em at a distance, and came in time enough to beat off the Enemy's Party; which had they not done, as well St. Albe as Blossac might have both undergone the same Fate, and both perished together.  
Blossac could not be so ill-conditioned as not to be moved with what St. Albe had done for him; so that he acknowledged in all Companies that he was beholding to St. Albe for his Life, and offered to make me all the public Satisfaction I desired. He confessed that all his Evil Practices were only the effect of his Despite to see himself rejected by me; yet after all, he could not forbear his having a very great affection for me: He desired St. Albe also to beg my pardon in his behalf. St. Albe, contented with this Satisfaction, demanded no more; and having informed me of this Adventure, we both concluded that Blossac had been sufficiently punished for his ungenteel demeanour, by the shame and mortification of being beholding for his Life to a Person against whom he had always had an uncivil Enmity. From that time forward he always shunned me: Nor did I know, nor did I care whether he continued his love to me or no; but this I am sure of, that the Hatred of Men of his Character is less pernicious to Women, than their Love; and that the greatest Misfortune that can befall us, is to be beloved by men, who not being able to win the Affection of those they court, prove so base as to seek their Revenge by throwing Scandals and Calumnies upon those that ●light their Addresses. There are another sort of men no less to be feared by Women; and those are they who would prefer themselves to a Reputation by a familiarity with those they court, when there is no such thing; and as if I had been destined to suffer whatever could attack a Woman's Honour, I was still exposed to that Misfortune.  
Now though it were not to be questioned but that I had a singular Affection for St. Albe, yet there were People who persuaded themselves, it was impossible that a Woman upon whom Scandal had fastened so many Adventures, should be constant to a Husband. The Chevalier de Clausonne prepossessed with this Error, undertook to court me; He was a Young man very handsome indeed, and who had no other defect, but the vanity to be thought a Fortunate Man in the World. He took an acquaintance with my Husband, and became one of his intimate Friends. St. Albe was naturally very grateful for Civilities done him, and moreover he loved Mirth and Good Company, and because he looked upon Clausonne to have a Sportive Wit, he introduced him into my Company. And now you shall hear what method Clausonne took to bring about his Design. He came every day to my House, but he let fall nothing in his Conversation that might give me the least occasion to distrust him; so that believing he had no farther Ends, I was pleased with his Company. He was still ready to do whatever I desired him; which made me sometimes write to him, and frequently send to his Lodging. On the other side, he was no less careful to make known the confidence I had in him: However, he was not very apt to show the Billets he received from me; but though he did not show 'em, he omitted nothing that might make People believe that the only reason why I wrote to him so often was, because I loved him. All this he reckoned as an honour to him; and by the manner of his letting it be imagined that we understood one another, he gained the Credit to be looked upon as admitted upon the Score he aimed at, by all those who knew not upon what account I suffered his Company. 'Tis one of the greatest Faults a Woman can commit, to be guilty of these sorts of Familiarities with Young men; and I would never advise any of our Sex to follow my Example. 'Tis true, that I was far from thinking it could be believed that a Woman of my Years and Experience should begin to dote upon a Young man. Nevertheless the World imagined it, and began to talk aloud, that my Husband was the Cully to his Friendship with Clausonne. And the Chevalier himself confirmed this Report by his Assiduities, and the Impostures which his Vanity invented. But at length I came to understand what People talked of Clausonne and myself, und told my HusHusband of it, who did but laugh it, and advised me to contemn reports, and to admit Clausonne into my Company as I was wont to do. He laid before me, that if I forbid him my House, it would but give a credit to those Fooleries that were spread abroad, whereas the still permitting him to keep me Company would extinguish all those flying Rumours. I followed my Husband's advice, and since he did me that justice which I deserved, I did not think it became me to vex myself with with what others thought of me. For these reasons I still admitted Clausonne to come to my House, with the same frankness as before. But I never troubled him with any more Errands, nor with any more of my Billets: I also took the same care to avoid being with him alone, and never spoke to him but in Company. He was apprehensive of this Alteration, and suspecting the cause of it, he went and told the Confidents of his Vanity, that I had obliged him to behave himself with more caution, because I perceived that my Husband began to be jealous of him. They gave credit to Clausonne's story; and there needed no more for them to give out that St. Albe was jealous▪ and they reported also that there had been some fall out between him and I upon the account of my pretended Gallantry.  
Clausonne came not now to my House as he was wont, but he affected to follow me where ever I went, and he carried this Affectation so far, that I took notice of it, and ordered him to be told that I took his way of proceeding very ill; and that if he did not mend his Manners he might chance to repent it. He was afraid of my Threats, and after that, carefully avoided my Company; and at length he gave out that I was fickle in my humour, and had sacrificed him to my Husband's Jealousy.  
Tho this Affair seemed to be but a Trifle, yet it was a very great damage to my Reputation: for it is not enough for a Woman's Honour that her Husband is satisfied with her Conduct: We are in an Age so prepossessed against the Wisdom and Virtue of Women, that if a Woman lives lovingly with her Husband, people believe he is either blind, or else that he does but dissemble. Clausonne indeed aught to have been punished for his idle presumption; but the remedy had been worse than the Disease; which shows how unhappy the Condition of Women is, seeing it is the same thing whether they revenge or not revenge their injured Reputation.  
But my Husband's good Opinion made me amends for the injustice of the World; and it was apparent after so many adventures that our Union could never be disturbed but by death. But so it fell out, that St. Albe died in the flower of his Age, and in the midst of all his Hopes: and after that, my time was wholly taken up in grieving for the loss of so dear a Husband, and so worthy of my sorrow. Pardon me therefore if I recite the Particulars of so sad a Separation.  
At the Battle of— and the taking of— which followed that Battle, St. Albe had given all the Proofs of Prudence and Va●●ur that could be expected from an Officer of his Reputation; and it is said he could not have failed of as high a Recompense as could have been conferred upon a Soldier. But three or four days after the taking of— advancing a little too far to observe the March of the Enemy who was going to fall upon one of our Garrisons, he received a Musquet-shot through his Body, which was not thought so dangerous at first.  
So soon as he was wounded, he wrote me word that his Wound was but very slight, and desired me not to afflict myself▪ But I could not obey him in that; I was extremely troubled for him, and hastened to the Town whither they had removed him. For two or three days he was in such a condition as made us hope he would live. But all of a sudden his Fever redoubled, and it was thought he had an Aposteme in his Breast: however it were, he was the first that knew all Remedies were useless, and that he should die. Perceiving himself therefore in that condition, he sent for me to his Bed side, and ordering all the People to be put out of the Room, he uttered these last words of a Dying man.  
Flatter not yourself, Dear Wife, with hopes of my Cure; I am too sensible that you and I must part. Then taking me by the hand, My business is done, said he, and I must leave a Life wherein I had no other delight but that it gave me an Opportunity to serve and please you. Many things might escape me which perhaps you might not so well approve of, perhaps they might be contrary to your good liking; but attribute them rather to my defects, then to any ill intention: for I have always sought to render myself worthy the Honour you did me. I die full of acknowledgement of your Goodness. I lived happy because you loved me: and I owe that little Reputation I have acquired, to the Design I had of rendering myself worthy of your Love. I have endeavoured to live like an honest Man, and to do my duty, because I had the Honour to be your Husband. I have made no Will, because I have nothing but what is your own, and what you may dispose of. Assure your Son I die his Servant; and be kind to my Servants. So farewell, farewell for ever. Withstand your Grief, and promise me you will not suffer yourself to be overwhelmed with sorrow. And as you are the only person that makes Life desirable to me; be so kind to my weakness, for I must confess that seeing you, I have not that Tranquillity I ought to have to think of the Grand Affair; be so kind, I say, as to withdraw your presence from my sight.  
While he thus breathed forth these dying words into my Bosom, my Condition was to be pitied. I bathed his hands with my Tears. My sobs and sighs were the Passing-bells that towled his departure; nor do I know which of us two were most concerned in the last moments of our Separation. When he desired me to leave the Room, my strength forsook me, and I know not what became of me. He was sensible of my being fallen into a swoon, and finding his tenderness did but hasten him to his end, he was unwilling to spend in useless sorrows the small remainder of those minutes that were left him to prepare for death; therefore he called the people, and caused me to be carried away.  
They put me to Bed, where I came to myself▪ in two or three Hours: I would fain have returned to him, but they would not let me; nor would they let me be at liberty till he had breathed forth his last gasps. Every one was taken up with his own grief. His Servants were all in tears; the Soldiers pressed in, in Crowds, to see him, and kiss his hands. The Officers withdrew profoundly silent, and had not strength enough to oppose my passage into his Chamber, where I beheld him breathless. Good God what a Spectacle was it to me! 'Twas a Miracle that I survived him; however I stopped the Deluge of my Tears to pay him my last Duties, and I signalised my Love by the Magnificence of his Obsequies.  
Here I end the Story of my Life; though in the Design which I proposed to myself, to show the great unjustice done our sex, I may be able to find new Proofs of that Injustice in what afterwards befell me when I had utterly renounced the world. For I found by experience that the most exact retirement, and the most sincere and blameless Conduct are no sufficient shelter from the Thunderbolts of Scandal. When a Woman has once been famous for being a Lover of Gallantry, people will have it that she must still retain the same inclination in retirement; and every Friend or Director that comes to her, must be her Servant.  
I hope to continue the Design I have begun in justification of Women. I have known several who have been as little spared by public Report as myself; and I shall show by the recital of their Adventures more clearly then by my own, That outward Appearances are frequently deceitful, and that there is more misfortune than Irregularity in the Conduct of Women.  
FINIS.    

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