THE Count of Amboise; OR, THE GENEROUS LOVER. A NOVEL. Written Originally In French by Madam *** AND Rendered into English by P. B. Gent. Dedicated to the Dauphiness of France. PART I.  
LONDON, Printed for R. Bentley and M. Magnes in Russet-street in Covent-Garden. 1689.   

TO Mrs. Elizabeth Slingsby.  
Madam,  
YOUR natural Inclinations, your Ingenuity, and your Virtuous Education, have such an affinity with that which rendered this Heroine so accomplished, as she is here represented, that I thought I should wrong her Memory, and your Merits, in not dedicating to You this Story of her Amours, as to the fittest Person, to vindicate and defend from the envious Censure of Malice, that Management which she used in so nice a Cause, in which mere Chance and her own Misfortune had involved her. She, like You, had an entire dependency on her Mother's grave Counsels and Advices, such a Mother, as like yours, was endowed with all the Prudence and Discretion, that was requisite to govern so accomplished a Daughter; She, like You, had an exquisite Judgement, to discern Persons, before entering into any Engagement, further than what the modest Converse of a decent Visit would afford. She, like You, had such reservedness in all her Actions, and so strict a Watch over her Desires, that nothing but the fatal mistake through which she gave to a worthy Person that Heart, which was designed for another by a discreet Mother's Choice, could have produced that mischief, which proved the unhappiness of her whole Life. May the Comparison terminate here, Madam, and you never have occasion to act any further her Part, by keeping such a constant Guard on your Heart, as may 〈◊〉 it from all Surprises; such a 〈◊〉 can never be too carefully preserved, while there are so many men that would leave no ways unattempted to the possession of it, even by the advantage of such an unfortunate mistake, by which Madmoiselle of Roye lost hers; and when the Time which the Heavens; have appointed for the change of your Condition is come, in lieu of such a Disaster, may you be blest with a Person worthy your Affections; that is, with one accomplished with all the Gifts of Nature, and the Superstructure of Arts, with such a Person as would be the Object of the Vows of every one that knows your Merits. Amongst the Crowd of those your Admirers, I beg for admittance, in Quality of,  
MADAM, Your most humble Servant, P. Bellon.   

TO MADAM THE DAUPHINESS.  
Madam,  
THE favourable Reception, which you have been pleased to afford to my first Novel, makes me hope the same Favour for this, I have now more need of your Protection than ever: I compose the History of a Man, who is so Generous to yield his Mistress to his Rival, and now there being but few Men capable of such great Things, and that Persons are rarely moved but with such things towards which they have some disposition, I have cause to fear the success of this Book. But, Madam, great and lofty Sentiments are met with in Royal Souls. Above all, they are in yours in the Superlative, and peradventure in that respect the Count D'Amboise may please you. If I durst entertain that Hope, I should have no cause to complain, seeing that those who would not be fit to relish it, would at least be capable of having a Respect for your Gusto. But it is not in that single Vow, Madam, that I take the liberty of presenting You with it, it is to have the Ambition of rendering You once more an Homage which is so justly due to You by your eminent Qualities, and above all by your Bounties. I am with a profound Respect,  
MADAM, Your most humble and most obedient Servant ***   

TO THE READER.  
IT has been observed, that in my first Novel there were some places in which Nature was not well enough copied, and that partaked more of Conception than of Sentiment. Though I am not ashamed of that Reproach, I have however endeavoured on the Remarks that have been made me, to carry so far my Inspections, as to mark the difference of a real Passion, from that which is but an overstudied Idea of it. And I hope that this History will be found more natural than the other in the Sentiments. It will also be found more extraordinary in the Action; and I believe not that it is a defect; for though that Persons of an ordinary Gusto, are accustomed to fancy every thing ridiculous that is not common, great Wits find a disgust in things that are mean and low. They fancy always to see the same Romance, because they always meet with the same strokes. I flatter myself, that this Turn has not yet been seen; and I have not any thing at all to fear, except that it is not very likely a Lover should be generous. Those Discourses which are daily made of Lovers, giveth place to this Scruple; but after all it is but a Scruple, on which I pass in favour of that which is great in the Idea. Peradventure that some may complain that I reward not the Count of Amboise's Virtue, but I design to punish his Passion, I have already declared in the Preface of Elinor of Yurée, that my design was to represent none but unfortunate Loves, that I may combat as much as in me lies, that tendency which we have for that Passion.   

THE Count of Amboise. A NOVEL. PART I.  
THE Reign of Francis the Second appeared in its beginning very agreeable and happy. The Queen his Wife, was one of the most beautiful and most ingenious Persons in the World. His Court was composed of part of those Illustrious Persons that had formed that of Henry the Second, and the Ladies had as great shares of Agreements, as the Men had of Valour. The Count of Amboise, and the Marquis of Sansac did distinguish themselves in it. Their Families had always been of opposite Interests; and though they were not declared Enemies, they had a certain Emulation which seemed to have some Consequences depending. They were both equally well made, nothing could be disputable in the one, but by the other; and it verily seemed as if they were to contest all things betwixt them.  
The Countess of Roye being a Widow, had retired her solf at two League's distance from Paris to a Countryhouse, where she received no Visits but from some particular Friends. She had a Daughter perfectly beautiful, who had not yet appeared. She did design to marry her before bringing of her to Court, and she made choice of the Count of Amboise from amongst all those that were proposed to her. That Marriage, which was equally advantageous to him and to Madmoiselle of Roye, was concluded on, even before they had had an Interview; but she having the Repute of being a great Beauty, Monsieur of Amboise did flatter himself very much with the thoughts that she should be his; and it may be said, That desires and hope did already form in his Heart the beginnings of a Passion, before he had seen its Object.  
Though Madmoiselle of Roye might have been possessed with that kind of insensibility, which Solitude usually gives, the quickness of her Apprehension did make her to receive and entertain the first impressions that were given her, and what she heard her Mother say of the Count's good Mien, Wit, and Generosity, did create in her an Esteem, which disposed her towards the receptions of farther impressions.  
That day in which he was to give her the first Visit, she had dressed herself with more care than usually, and she was of a Beauty to charm all those that beheld her. It was in one of those agreeable Summer's days that invite to take the Air. The Sun that had not appeared that day, gave place to a delicious Coolness; and Madmoiselle of Roye was walking in one of the Avenues of the House with two Ladies of her Mother's acquaintance, who were come to dine with her. It being early enough yet not to expect the Count of Amboise, and Madam of Roye was busied about some Conserves, she was well pleased that the Walk did divert them during that time which she was to employ in business. They were already come to the end of a Walk, where there was an Arbour open on every side, very pleasant, and in which they were going to enter to seat themselves, when they perceived a Cavalier, who alighting from his Horse, left his Followers behind him, and advanced towards them. Still as he approached, she observed his shape and Air, which appeared worthy of all the attention that she afforded them. She doubted not but that it was Monsieur of Amboise, he came at the appointed day, his earnestness could not displease her. The good Mien of that Person that she saw, did correspond to that Idea which she had framed in herself of the Count Those Ladies that were with her did not know him, as belonging not to the Court. They had learned that he was expected that day, and they also were of opinion that it was he. They bestowed Praises on him, which added the more to prepossess her in his behalf.  
Madmoiselle of Roye found her duty very easy, and it may be that she hastened herself a little too much to observe it; Monsieur Amboise was the Person that was to inspire her with that Joy which is given at the first encounter of that Object which ought to please; but it was in favour of the Marquis of Sansac that she had been made sensible of it. Chance had conducted him there, he was coming from a Lady of his Relation, and having found himself near to Madam of Roye's House, some discourse which he had heard of her Daughter's Beauty, did make him take that occasion to give them a Visit. He had not seen Madam of Roye since the death of her Husband; she lived in so close a Retirement, that none had yet attempted to disturb her; but he thought that after a year of Mourning, she would make no scruple of receiving him.  
He approached the Ladies, and though he knew them not, he said all that Politeness and Gallantry could inspire him with in that rencontre, but he presently did distinguish Madmoiselle of Roye from the rest; of truth, though one of them was young, and beautiful also, the Beauty of Madmoiselle of Roye was so perfect, that one could not behold any other but hers, in any place where she appeared; she found I know not what of pleasing in this Adventure, which gave her an inclination to continue it. She entreated the Ladies not to tell her Name, and knowing that those Concerns, which detained her Mother, would not be so soon ended, she proposed to the Company to go seat themselves in the Arbour.  
That Road which the Marquis of Sansac had taken, would not let him doubt but that it led to Madam of Roye's; he went not about to conceal that design, and those Ladies confirming themselves in the opinion, that he was Monsieur of Amboise, did put divers nice Questions to him on Madmoiselle of Roye's account, which gave him to understand, that they took him for that Count, who he knew to be on the very point of marrying her. They asked him, whether he had not wherewith to accuse himself for amusing with them, when he was on the point of seeing so beautiful a Person. She blushed at this, after a manner which helped to persuade him, that he was not deceived in the thoughts that she was Madmoiselle of Roye.  
The place where he met with her, and her extraordinary Beauty, had already given him great suspicions of it; but then he doubted of it no longer, and guest by what was told him, that she had not yet seen the Count of Amboise, and that he was expected. The Adventure pleased him in his turn, that Error caused him to be favourably looked upon by a beautiful Person, he took upon him not to answer positively, that he might not undeceive them, and to take off all blame from him, when they should come to know him. There cannot be had a greater Idea of Madmoiselle of Roye's Beauty, than I have, said he; Yet it is hard for me to believe that she is above that which I see here, added he, looking on her in a manner which did persuade her that he was taken. She took a most sensible delight in all that passed there, and was highly pleased with the sudden effect of her Charms, in a manner which still conduced to render her favourable unto him, who gave her to understand that he was sensible of their Power. They had already been an hour in that Arbour, when a great shower of Rain besieged them. No body was sorry for it, the Conversation was so pleasing, that it was not possible for them to compute the time that they stayed there. Monsieur of Sansac had an incomparable agreement in his Person, and in all that he said, and his natural Briskness was the more heightened by all that was of surprising in that rencontre.  
Madmoiselle of Roye was ravished to find him so worthy of her, their Eyes met more than once after a manner which caused her to blush, and which afterwards made her to avoid those of Monsieur of Sansac. Of truth, though she believed him to be the Count of Amboise, and that she was to marry him, she was sensible of I know not what that was independent of her Duty, which she was loath to unravel. She had all the leisure to abandon herself to an Error, which was to prove so fatal to her in the pursuit: for the storm did not cease, and they could not stir out of the Arbour. At last Monsieur of Amboise came, and perceiving Ladies in the Arbour, he went towards it, taking them to be Madam and Madmoiselle of Roye.  
He found not there that Countess which he had seen at Court; but he presently knew her Daughter by the Picture that had been made him of her, and on the same grounds which had before given the Marquis of Sansac to understand that it was she; so that he addressed his Compliments to her. Yet considering that he might be mistaken, and the presence of so many Persons retaining him, he advanced nothing which could precisely mark that he was the Person which they expected.  
He deserved no less than the Marquis of Sansac to entertain that Company, an agreeable shape above the common, a noble Air, I know not what of fine and passionate, did render him most capable of pleasing. The Ladies did him all the Justice which he deserved; but Madmoiselle of Roye was troubled to be constrained to doubt which of the two was her Lover: She looked on both of them, as if to ask which it was that she was obliged to love, but it was with a certain difference, which seemed to mark that she would gladly have had him to be Monsieur of Sansac.  
The Eldest of the Ladies, who perceived the consusion in which that young Person was, thought fit to cause it to cease. Madam of Roye's Women having been forced to retire into the Arbour also, because of the Rain, she sent one of them to ask the Name of Monsieur of Amboise, from his people, and having learned it, she had Madmoiselle of Roye informed of it.  
That young Lady could not forbear looking on him with more coldness than she naturally aught to have had. The briskness of the Conversation had enlivened her Face, and increased her Beauty; Monsieur of Amboise did consider her with the interest of a man for whom she was designed; and in spite of that Idea, which he had conceived of her, he still found occasion of being surprised; but the manner with which she received him, did not afford him a relish of those Charms which the birth of a Passion usually excites in the Heart, and Love did even deny him that very first satisfaction.  
She beheld Monsieur of Sansac without reflecting on it with less Caution than before, as if she had bid him Adieu with that Look, and that she were become more bold when she was to divest herself of all Hopes, than she had been a moment before, when she thought that she might have produced the same in him.  
Monsieur of Amboise had his Eyes too much fixed upon Madmoiselle of Roye, not to follow hers; it may also be, that the natural opposition of Sansac and he; did promote his fears; in fine, he mistrusted part of the truth.  
The storm still continued, and Madam of Roye, who had made an end of those businesses, which had detained her, came to fetch them in her Coach. She did not expect to find the Marquis of Sansac there: However she was not backwards in showing him much respect. That Countess set forth to Monsieur of Amboise all the Esteem which she had for his Merit, and the joy she was in to see him; but those Civilities diverted him not from that disagreeable Idea which he had taken against his Will.  
Madam of Roye did lead them into her Apartment, and the divers agitations which disjointed that Company, created in it some kind of uneasieness. The Count of Amboise, who naturally loved not Sansac, did think that Marquess' Visit too long. It wanted not much of Monsieur of Sanac's thinking the same of the Count of Amboise, though he was not ignorant of the design that brought him, but at last he was forced to quit the place to him.  
The Ladies departed also, and the Count of Amboise remained the last. He informed Madmoiselle of Roye how much the advantage of being designed for her did charm him; but he told her at the same time, that if he was not so happy as to touch her Heart, he found himself in a condition much to be pitied. Madmoiselle of Roye made answer, that she had no Heart to give, but only a Duty to follow. The Air with which she pronounced those words, was not proper to give Hopes to a Lover. She took little care of keeping up the Conversation, but she showed enough of Wit to finish that which her Beauty had begun, and to create difficulties enough to the possession of her Heart, to render the Count's Passion most ardent from that very day.  
When Madmoiselle of Roye was alone, she remained in a profound study, and though she did not yet unravel her Sentiments as to Monsieur of Amboise and Monsieur of Sansac, she however fancied this last to be the most amiable.  
For his part, he had been struck with Madmoiselle of Roye's Beauty. He had observed, that his Conversation did not displease her, and that she had received the Count of Amboise with some coldness, insomuch that he carried none but agreeable and pleasing Ideas back with him.  
He spoke of her at Court with such great Eulogies, that the Queen grew impatient to see her, and he having learned from Madam of Roye, that they should not return so soon from the Country, he informed the Queen thereof, who seemed to be sorry.  
Sansac, who wanted but some pretence to return to Madam of Roye, obliged himself in going to inform her of the Queen's thoughts: He did see Madmoiselle of Roye a second time, he fancied that he discerned some satisfaction in her Eyes; he said a thousand things to her, which those dispositions, in which she was towards him, did make her easily to apprehend, and that at the same time could not be displeasing to Madam of Roye. The Count of Amboise, who had right to visit them often, came in the time that Monsieur of Sansac was retiring. A second Visit of that Marquis did trouble him. His disturbance which discovered itself to Madmoiselle of Roye, caused her to fancy him whimsical, which made an end of losing him in her Esteem.  
She felt in herself an indifferency for him, before she knew that Sansac was the Cause of it. Those Cares which the Count did render her, grew uneasy, and presently gave her an aversion towards him, which she opposed in vain. Any man for whom one is obliged to have some regard, does always make himself hated, when he causes not himself to be beloved.  
The Count of Amboise did easily perceive that Madmoiselle of Roye loved him not, he mistrusted the Cause of it, and according to the Custom of unfortunate Lovers, he sought to inform himself more particularly of that knowledge, of which he had not sufficiency enough yet to make him entirely miserable.  
One day that the King was walking, followed by the whole Court; this Count perceiving that Sansac was at some distance from the Crowd, drew near him to speak of Madmoiselle of Roye. But though they both had equal desires, neither of them could resolve to begin. At last, Amboise followed his design, he praised her highly, and Sansac said but little, as much it might be, not to be of his Rival's opinion, as for fear of discovering his Love. Mean time the Count of Amboise was not in a condition of receiving any satisfaction, he had been uneasy, if the Marquis of Sansac had too much admired Madmoiselle of Roye, and he was so likewise, because he would not praise her sufficiently.  
Few hours after his Jealousy was entirely confirmed. That night, at the King's Apartment, the Conversation being fallen on the Beauty of some Ladies of the Court, the Marquis of Sansac, who was no longer restrained by the presence of Monsieur of Amboise, could not forbear praising highly Madmoiselle of Roye's Beauty, he was speaking of it with great Transport when the Count came in. The King perceiving him at distance, Here's Sansac, said he to him, raising his voice, who says more wonderful things of Madmoiselle of Roye's Beauty, than you ever told us. These two Rivals blushed at those words: that redness was observed; they were played upon for it the rest of that night, and they had occasion of all their Wit to oppose the Railleries, they both knew more particularly in that occasion, what either of them had of Parts, and they esteemed each other, but to hate the more.  
The Count of Sansac, Father to the Marquis, had some thoughts to marry his Son to Madmoiselle of Anebault, whose Beauty might have rendered happy a man that had not loved Madmoiselle of Roye; he durst not oppose himself openly to his Father's Will, but he retarded that Marriage, and he had a great repugnancy against it. Madam of Roye at that time did bring her Daughter to Court, where she received all the Applause that she merited.  
She gained both Lovers and Enemies. The Countess of Tournon was of the number of those to whom her Beauty caused some discontent, and who did the best dissemble it. The Count of Sancerre did find her perfectly lovely, but durst not own that he loved her, because he did not suspect that Monsieur of Amboise could be hated. Soon after, he took a Journey, which helped him to conceal his Passion, but not to cure it.  
Madmoiselle of Roye stayed not long without knowing that the Marquis of Sansac was to be married to Madmoiselle of Anebault; she was surprised at this News, and much more to find herself so concerned at it against her Will. She applied herself coward that Lady about it, and to find defects in him.  
Monsieur of Amboise's Marriage was on the point of being concluded, when that there happened some difficulties in it, which had not been foreseen. The King had some knowledge of an Insurrection which the Prince of. Conde was promoting in the Kingdom, and because the Count was particularly linked to him, it was believed that he had a hand in it, though there was no proof against him, it was sufficient that there were some distrusts to have a strict Watch kept on his Actions. There was no Policy to let him marry a Kinswoman of the Prince of Conde, before his Conduct were cleared.  
Divers things passed during that Retardment, Madam of Roye not knowing any thing of Sansac's Sentiments towards her Daughter, did receive him, as she did other Persons of the Court. Her Daughter did inform herself with too much care about the Marriage of Madmoiselle of Anebault, to be ignorant of the resistance that he made against it, and it was not difficult for her to find that she had more than ordinary concerns in it. That Interest which she had for all the Actions of that Marquis, did every moment confirm her in an opinion, that she had made him sensible. She did follow that tendency with some scruple, but still she followed it.  
Sansac did every day observe some little effects of Madmoiselle of Roye's passion, which charmed him; mean time, in those Terms that she was with Monsieur of Amboise, he durst not speak openly to her, for fear of losing those marks of her tenderness, if he should force her to unravel them; but he entrusted Madmoiselle of Sansac his Sister, with the Sentiments, which he had for Madmoiselle of Roye, and he entreated her to contract, if she could, a strict Friendship with her, and to endeavour to destroy Monsieur of Amboise in her opinion, that the Count's Marriage, which was already retarded through Policy, might be so likewise by that indifferency which she might have for him.  
Madmoiselle of Sansac was at first troubled in being obliged to render some ill Offices to a Person for whom she had a singular Esteem; but that very Esteem did insensibly lead her to act against his Marriage: She being very ingenious, and Sister to Sansac, it was not difficult for her to enter into a very close Commerce of Friendship with Madmoiselle of Roye, who did not conceal from her the sorrow she was to see herself designed for an Husband, for whom she had so little inclination. She would do Justice to his good Parts and Qualities, but it was with a kind of reservedness. His Merit was a kind of secret Reproach to her of that indifferency she had for him; She hated him because he loved her, and because he deserved to be beloved.  
Madmoiselle of Sansac, who was Maid of Honour to the Queen, and who was the best treated by her, offered her all her Services towards that Princess, to bring her to speak to Madam of Roye, that that Marriage might be broke off. Madmoiselle of Roye, who feared displeasing of her Mother, did at first oppose it with some earnestness; yet she gave her opportunity to see, that if the thing could have been done without concerning herself in it, she had been pleased at it.  
There needed no more to oblige Madmoiselle of Sansac to serve her. She was to go to the Spaw-Waters for her Health, and she would, before she took her Journey, mention it to the Queen, not to lose any time in obliging her Friend. Though Madmoiselle of Roye was far from owning to her the inclination that she had for her Brother, it was much that she forbore speaking of him at all.  
The Count of Amboise's hatred to Sansac, did increase extraordinarily. Madmoiselle of Roye, unknown to herself, did afford to this last some marks of a most particular Esteem, which could not escape a Lover's penetration; and he would sometimes wave on the deliberation of what Party he should take. It was unpleasing to him to marry a Person who was prepossessed by an inclination for another Person; Reason did oppose itself to that design, but still he was in Love. How was it possible to lose the hopes of seeing her his own? After divers irresolutions, he perceived that he was not capable of fixing on any thing.  
The Marquis of Sansac did show so much indifferency for Madmoiselle of Annebault, that she herself endeavoured to avoid the marrying of him, so that that Marriage was broke off. Madmoiselle of Roye conceived so great a Joy at it, that she was not able to conceal it from Madmoiselle of Sansac, unto whom her motions were not indifferent. She did frequently see the Count of Amboise at that Friend's house. She had found him as lovely as unfortunate, and insensibly pity had led her into other Sentiments She still engaged herself more strongly in her Brother's Interests, and she did even think that in some measure she did serve Monsieur of Amboise in preventing him from marrying a Person that hated him.  
The Count of Sansac her Father, was moved by her to desire that his Son might marry Madmoiselle of Roye, which was not thought a difficult matter in the present Juncture. The Family of Amboise had never managed the Sansancs in any occasion. The Sansacs', whom Favour emboldened, had frequently sought after some means to displease them, so that nothing did detain them, and Madmoiselle of Roye was so considerable a Party, that they undertook to have some body speak about it to Madam of Roye; at first they required but a Preference, in case that Monsieur of Amboise's Marriage was not concluded. Madmoiselle of Sansac entreated the Queen to enter into this business. That Princess did promise she would, and Madmoiselle of Sansac went to the Spa. After that Promise had been obtained, the Queen was not long before she kept her Word; she made some Propositions to Madam of Roye. She gave her to conceive, that Monsieur of Amboise's adherence to the Prince of Conde, did render him still suspected, and that there were more advantageous Parties to be had through the King's Favour and Friendship; but Madam of Roye was one of those exact Women that keep their words. The Count's good Qualities had given her a Friendship for him, which was increased by his misfortune. She entreated the Queen to permit her to keep her Word with Monsieur of Amboise, and that she might hope that the King would find him guiltless, and that he would restore him to her Favour again.  
The Queen, who endeavoured to oblige Madmoiselle of Sansac, did press Madam of Roye more home still, and omitted nothing of that which could favour the Sansacs'; at last she desired her Promise for the Marquis, in case she should break off with the Count of Amboise. Madam of Roye was uneasy at the Propositions 〈◊〉 they would have her consent to, at the time that she was engaged with a man whom they loved not, which appeared, in that they so soon seized on an occasion to insult on his disgrace. She told the Queen that she was strangely troubled, that she could not promise her any thing on that account, because that her Daughter had some Antipathy against the Marquis of Sansac; not that she did really believe any such thing, but to draw herself out of that troublesome business.  
That ill success did put Sansac into a strange Chagrin and confusion; Though Madmoiselle of Roye's Looks had divers times assured him that he was not hated, he durst no longer trust to them. In fine, he was certain of Madam of Roy's hatred, though he might still remain in doubt of that of her Daughter, and he began to lose the hope of ever being happy.  
Madam of Roye would not inform that young Person of what had passed, not to divert her from those Sentiments which she ought to have for the Count of Amboise. She also thought fit that he should be ignorant of it, for fear that at this time that he was not looked upon favourably at Court, he should come to some unfortunate extremities with a man whom the King loved. The next day she brought back her Daughter into the Country, to an House at a further distance than the former, in expectation of some Change in the Count's Affairs, unto whom she showed that the Air of Disgrace in which he was, should bring no alteration unto those Sentiments that she had for him.  
But what did those Sentiments avail to the Count of Amboise? He was almost certain, that his Mistresses were contrary to him. He resolved to satisfy himself in that Point, and to bring it about, so that Madmoiselle of Roye should find herself engaged by his entreaties, or by her own interest, to confess a thing, of which the very suspicion appeared so fatal to him, that the very Certainty itself could not be more. If Madmoiselle of Roye was prepossessed with another inclination, it were better for him to be once assured of it, than to remain continually in fear. Mean time he had some occasions to inform himself thereof, but he had not the power of making use of it; and when he was on the point of being satisfied, he would avoid it.  
Madmoiselle of Roye did so suddenly return into the Country, that Sansac could not get an opportunity of speaking to her. The difficulties which he found 〈◊〉 knowing her mind did not 〈◊〉 him; he was nettled with those words that Madam of Roye had said to the Queen, and Love joined to Spite, did put him on finding out all manner of means to clear the business. Madmoiselle of Sansac was too far distant to serve him towards Madmoiselle of Roye. He cast his Eyes on Madam of Tournon; she was the most subtle and the most insinuating of all Women. She had found out the way of gaining Madmoiselle of Roy's Esteem and Friendship, and they had always been in a straight conjunction. Monsieur of Sansac thought that he might go to Madam of Roye with her, and that he should find some means of speaking to Madmoiselle of Roye. He gave Madam of Tournon divers Visits, which she received with great satisfaction. Though she was not in the very prime of her youth, she was still lovely enough to flatter herself of being beloved; and the Count of Tournon, whose Widow she was, had left her such considerable means, that the thoughts of being able to make that Marquis a vast Fortune, did assist her in seducing of herself in his behalf.  
She might have guest, that those Civilities which he rendered her▪ had not the right stamp of Love upon them; but Persons are apt to mistake in such Niceties. That application which usually is brought in such examination, is almost a certain way of mistake. That made Madam of Tournon to give unto all Sansac's actions, that sense which best agreed with those Sentiments that she entertained for him.  
But she did not enjoy her Error long; he left her the sorrowful leisure of making distinct Reflections; she perceived the difference of his proceedings with hers. Finally, he having but small application unto the Countess' actions, and fancying that they proceeded but from Friendship, because he felt no more within himself for her; after some days were passed, he proposed to go along with her to Madam of Roye. That Proposition caused Madam of Tournon to open her Eyes, and she rested satisfied that he was in Love with Madmoiselle of Roye, after he had once mentioned that beautiful Person's Name. The shame of having deceived herself, the sorrow to love in vain, and the spite to see Madmoiselle of Roye, whom she hated, to triumph over her, could not rest without some effects in Madam of Tournon's Heart; mean time her natural dissimultation did prevent her from flying out. She promised him to make up that match which he proposed; but she had already perceived, that Madam of Roye had some unkindness for the Sansacs'. She writ to her, that the Marquis had entreated her to bring him to her. Madam of Roye, who after the Propositions that had been made, and what she had answered the Queen, finding that she should be perplexed with that Visit, presently answered Madam of Tournon, and did engage her to divert Sansac from that Design. Madam of Tournon, who in writing to Madam of Roye, had had no other design but of getting such a kind of Answer, showed the Letter to Sansac, as to a Friend from whom she had no Secret to conceal.  
Sansac, who this ill Success had disgusted, consulted no longer the Countess on a thing of which it was nor seasonable to discover the motives, he did go to Madam of Roye, but he saw not her Daughter, though he enquired after her. He was told, that she was ill; he returned there a second time, and he was again refused seeing of her, on pretences which appeared very unlikely to him. He learned that Monsieur of Amboise was with her, insomuch that ashamed of the small success of his Visits, and despairing for having a Rival more happy than himself, he took the resolution of leaving Paris, and went to one of his Houses at a great distance from thence.  
Madmoiselle of Roye, who had been all along concerned at the precipitation with which she had been hurried into the Country, and who saw with sorrow that she was prevented from receiving Visits from Sansac, did fancy that peradventure Madam of Roye had discovered her Sentiments towards him, which produced in her a mixture of shame and trouble.  
Monsieur of Amboise did let her observe how much he was afflicted to see her in that melancholy, yet without complaining, and without giving her the least notice that he could in part read her mind; so respectful a Conduct did touch Madmoiselle of Roye, and Pity succeeded to her Hatred, but Love succeeded▪ not too that Pity.  
He was too unconcerned in the Prince of Conde's Conspiracy to remain long accused of it, and by that time he was almost quite cleared▪ Madmoiselle of Roye was sensible that she was on the point of marrying him, he acted after such a generous manner, which deserved some kindness of her part, & she thought that her duty▪ would be a supply to the defects of her Heart.  
One day, that the Count of Amboise's sorrow was extraordinary▪ she told him more obliging thing than she had ever done before, bu● they did but redouble that Lover's affliction: 'Las! Madam, said he, force not yourself, those affected outsides render me not less miserable, you affect showing me some kindness, how happy should I be, if you had enough to endeavour to conceal it! That Discourse put Madmoiselle of Roye into some disorder, it was sufficiently grounded to cause her some trouble, she was a long while without answering, and Monsieur of Amboise being emboldened by her silence, or rather confirming himself in those Suspicions, had no longer any power to resist their breaking forth. Madam, said he to her, I perceive but too well that I am indifferent to you, why would you not let me see it? At least be sincere, if you cannot be tender. I am reduced to that condition of being obliged to you, if you but confess to me that you love me not. Those words were followed with tears: Madmoiselle of Roye was sensibly moved at them. Why this eternal Constraint? She was not yet his Wife. Such a discovery could be of no other use than to disengage her, and to set her in a liberty of following her own Sentiments.  
Is that the greatest Esteem that ever was? said she; No, Madmoiselle, he interrupted, all your Esteem cannot afford me any Consolation for your indifferency: But, added he, being pressed by his Jealousy if any thing could sweeten it, it would be a confidence without reservedness, it may well be due to me to recompense me of all that which you detain from me. What is that confidence which you require further? said Madmoiselle of Roye, I think I express much. Ah! Madmoiselle, said he, that is not yet enough, let me know more, though it be a punishment for my Curiosity, all the Favour which I ask you, is, that you should inform me of my whole misfortune. Have I no Rival? Confess it to me. Ought you to doubt but that I am indifferent, said Madmoiselle of Roye, seeing that you that was designed me, have not rendered me sensible? Alas! Madmoiselle, said he, your Heart might be prepossessed— Prepossessed? replied Madmoiselle de Roye, did I know any one before I was engaged to you? 'Las! Madmoiselle, said he, interrupting her, being transported by Jealousy, had you not seen any body before me? There needs but one moment to create Love.  
At this word, which did so precisely mark what passed in Madmoiselle of Roye's Heart, such a redness covered her Face, that Monsieur Amboise doubted no longer of his Disgrace; he leaned on a Seat, not being able to support his Sorrow. What do you make me to see, Madmoiselle? said he. How much must you be respected to show you any moderation, at the discovery you have made of having for another Person those Sentiments that were due to me alone on the account of that violent passion which I have for you? Madmoiselle of Roye, who was pierced to the very bottom of her Soul with those words, could not withhold her Tears, and she expressed so deep a Sorrow, that Monsieur of Amboise, notwithstanding his Despair, was concerned at the condition he had put her in. He looked on her with all the timidity which the thought of having displeased her did suggest him, and he seemed by his silence to repair his having said too much. At last, he asked her Pardon for what he had said, or rather for what he had seen. Madmoiselle of Roye was in an extraordinary disorder. Her trouble and her redness had so cruelly betrayed her, that she could not look on Monsieur of Amboise without the highest confusion imaginable; so that not knowing what to answer, and being vexed at him, she withdrew into her Closet, desiring him to leave her at quiet, and to forget her.  
What resentments had not Monsieur of Amboise against that Person who deprived him of his Mistresses' Heart, if he had followed its fury, he had been brought to cruel extremities against him; but he thought that in such an occasion, a flying out would draw on him all Madmoiselle of Roye's anger and hatred, and that he was not to prostitute a Secret, of which she had herself discovered part to him, and which she had let him penetrate wholly into. He represented to himself those Tears which he had seen her shed, and that Idea did retain his Revenge though it increased his Sorrow.  
They remained some time with out seeing one another; The Count of Amboise being certain, that he could not be pleasing to Madmoiselle of Roye, and having in some sort offended her, durst not appear before her, Madmoiselle o● Roye did no less fear receiving o● his Visits. There is no man mor● troublesome than a jealous Lover when he has cause for it, and right to show it.  
Madam of Roye perceiving that Monsieur of Amboise came no more to her House, asked the Reason of it to her Daughter, and distrusting by that young Person's confusion, that there had been some Debate betwixt them, she told her that she would have him to be respected, set before her what he should certainly be to her one day, and even ordered her to have the Count informed by one that was a Friend to both, that she should be very glad to see him. Madmoiselle of Roye was forced to obey, but she was the more incensed against him for it.  
Monsieur of Amboise was sensible that he ought not to penetrate any further than the appearance which was favourable to him; though he feared to see Madmoiselle of Roye, he went however the next day to her House with earnestness. He found her alone in her Chamber, leaning her head on one of her hands, and in so profound thoughts, that with much ado she drew herself out of it at the noise which he made at his entering. His belief that it was the Marquis of Sansac who possessed her to that degree, did renew the Count of Amboise's Jealousy. Madmoiselle, said he sighing, how happy are those Persons whose Concerns can put you into so deep a Consternation, and how much is one to blame when one is—  
Madmoiselle of Roye was vexed to hear him begin that Discourse Madam of Roye's Command had put her in a peevish humour, so that looking on him with some kind of spite; I have nothing to answer you, said she, all that 〈◊〉 should tell you would be suspicious▪ but I foresee those evils which your distrusts prepare for me. Prepare evils for you, Madmoiselle, said he is it to me you speak? Yes, said she, I must not slatter myself, you have had some beginnings of Jealousy, which peradventure I have increased by my fault, I can no longer think but that you hate me.  
Alas! Madmoiselle, said he, it is not my hatred that you fear, you fear nothing▪ but my Love; and seeing I cannot please you, I find myself no longer worthy of you, it suffices, I shall no longer constrain you, but will fly from you, seeing that it is the only mark of Passion in me that can please you, I shall still love you with a violent Passion, but shall never see you more.  
Madmoiselle of Roye did not expect so much from him, but the Sorrow in which she had seen him, and the disposition in which he appeared to be, of disingaging himself, gave her the boldness to propose it. She represented to him with mildness, that it was henceforward impossible for him to be happy in marrying of her, and that seeing he had once entertained suspicious thoughts of her, he would never be without some, and that she esteemed him too much, to make him so unhappy. In fine, little by little she endeavoured to buying him to withdraw his Word which he had given to Madam of Roye, He was in such a Despair as permitted him not to answer. His Eyes were fixed upon Madmoiselle of Roye, from whom he expected a more favourable Answer. Do you think well, Madmoiselle, said he, on what you desire of me? Do you think that I love you, and is the greatest effort of my Love due to the most cruel Trial of your indifferency? You may refuse me, said Madmoiselle of Roye with Sorrow: Can I disobey? said he, rising from his Seat, your Heart consents not to my happiness, and can I have any without its consent? Yet at least, Madmoiselle, guess at the excess of my tenderness, by what it makes me to do against myself.  
After that he returned to Paris whence he writ to Madam and 〈◊〉 Madmoiselle of Roye, to bid them eternally farewel. He entreated Madam of Roye to pardon him for going without seeing her, and for 〈◊〉 answering so ill to those intentions that she once had in his Favour, but that distance that Madmoiselle of Roye was from him, did put so invincible an obstacle to it, that Marriage could not make him happy, except it also rendered that Person happy which he loved; and that he was going to carry his Grief into some remote place, to cure himself, if it was possible, through absence. In short, some days after, having fully justified himself from being in the Prince of Conde's Conspiracy, he went over into England with the King's permission.  
Madam of Roye was very discontented, that a Marriage which ●he had so earnestly desired, should meet with such obstacles. She had 〈◊〉 perfect an Esteem for Monsieur of Amboise, that she thought there ●as none but him worthy of her Alliance. She spoke to her Daughter very sensibly, and told her she deserved not to be beloved by the Count, and that she should be deservedly punished for her indifferency to him, in marrying some Person that should be so to her. She wiped off her Mother's anger with some vexation, but her threatenings did not much affright her; She thought that Sansac would take advantage of that Liberty in which D'Amboise had left him, but she did not know what had already passed on that account.  
Madam of Roye brought her back again to Paris, and the noise being spread abroad of her breaking off with Monsieur of Amboise, all those that could pretend to her, did endeavour to obtain her.  
The Count of Sancerre, who had had some inclinations towards her from the first instant that he had seen her, was not then in France The Marquis of Sansac, ignorant that Monsieur of Amboise had disengaged himself, was still at his Father's House, but it was not long before he heard of it. Amongst those who thought on Madmoiselle of Roye, the Viscount of Tavanes was the most earnest, and he made some Propositions to marry her. So soon as she was at Paris, Madam of Tournon did assist him with all her power. It was a business of great import to her to have that Marriage fixed, before Sansac should know that the Count of Amboise pretended no longer to Madmoiselle of Roye. She represented to Madam of Roye all the advantages of that Match. The Viscount of Tavanes had a vast Estate, and was still seeking to increase it, so that he considered more Madmoiselle of Roye on the account of those means which were designed her, than on that of her Beauty.  
Madam of Roye, who had no concealment from Madam of Tournon, had entrusted her with all the Count of Amboise's Conduct towards her Daughter, and had entreated her to discover, whether that young Person had not some secret inclinations. Though her distrusts had at first lighted on the Marquis of Sansac, the refusal which she had made of him, did put her so out of condition of patching it up handsomely again, that it made her wholly decline that Marriage.  
Madam of Tournon did so certainly believe, that if Sansac loved Madmoiselle of Roye, he was also beloved by her, that she went not about to confirm herself in it. Mean time she told Madam of Roye, that upon the Examination of her Daughter, she had found in her an indifferency for all men, and more particularly for Sansac; that it was likely, that too much Love in the Count of Amboise had made him to decline the marrying a Person who was so incapable of passion, as not to know or discern the Sentiments that were had for her. In fine, she advised her to accept of the Viscount of Tavanes for her Son-in-law. The business was treated with much Secrecy, and it had been quickly dispatched, if the King's Sickness had not suspended all things.  
He was seized, while he was Hunting, with such a violent pain in his Head, that from the very beginning the consequences of it were dreaded. That danger he was in recalled back to Paris all those that were concerned for his life. The Marquis of Sansac returned in diligence; The Count of Amboise, though he was scarce arrived in England, returned into France. That Sickness proved as fatal as it had been sudden. The King died within the space of eight days, and his Death gave a new face to all things. Queen Mury of Scotland lost all that Authority which she had acquired. Catherine of Medicis was declared Regent during the Minority of Charles the Ninth, and was absolute. The Prince of Conde, who had been arrested for that Conspiracy of which he was thought to be the Chief, was set at Liberty; he still had a great Esteem for Amboise, and though he could not prevail with him to enter into his Interests, he had not loved him the less.  
The Marquis of Sansac did speak with Madmoiselle of Roye the next day that he came to Paris; she was at Madam of Tournon's, where there was great store of Company, and she was somewhat at a distance from the rest, so that he found a means to place himself near her, without being opposed in it by Madam of Tournon.  
He asked Pardon of Madmoiselle of Roye, for those Propositions which he had caused to be made to her Mother, before he had consulted her; he accused thereof the violence of his Passion, and he told her, That what he had heard of her hatred towards him, and Madam of Roye's refusal had sufficiently punished him for it. Madmoiselle of Roye was surprised at that Discourse. You learn me such new things, said she, that I am troubled how to answer, and I am as ignorant of the hatred that you say I have for you, as of all the rest.  
Madam of Tournon, who perceived him very busy in Discourse with Madmoiselle of Roye, feigning not to see it, called to her to draw near, telling her, that she was at too much distance from the rest of the Company.  
When Madmoiselle of Roye made reflections on what he had told her, she believed that those Propositions had been made that very day, and that some Reasons of Interest or of Hatred had determined her Mother on a refusal; so she concluded, that she should not marry Sansac at the same instant that she was certain of being tenderly beloved by him.  
Mean time this Marquis was gathering fresh hopes, he perceived that he was not hated. He further comprehended, that perhaps Madam of Roye, in refusing him so cruelly, had sought no further than to keep her Word with Monsieur of Amboise, and that things being now changed as to that Concern, a second Attempt might succeed. He would have engaged his Father the very next morning, to mention it to Madam of Roye, but he found him so pierced with sorrow for the Death of the King, whose Governor he had been, that he would not so much as hear him.  
This Marquis was too amorous not to fear being prevented by his Rivals. He knew Madam of Tournon's power over Madam of Roye; he declared to her his Love, and did conjure her to speak in his behalf, till his Father could enter on that business. Madam of Tournon was offended at this confidence, but she took upon her to dissemble, and she did not much fear but that it would succeed. She assured him, that it should not be her fault if he was not happy. He believed her, and in that belief he went to see Madam of Roye that very day, but many things had passed that he knew not of.  
So soon as Monsieur of Amboise was returned from England, he had waited on that Countess, who had received him with great affection; She had but newly informed her Daughter that she designed her for the Viscount of Tavanes, and that News had given her so great a trouble, that she had had no more time but to answer, that she should always obey her, and had gone out of her Mother's Chamber to give a full vent to her Tears.  
When she perceived that she had avoided to marry the Count of Amboise, but to be delivered up to the Viscount of Tavanes, she was inconsolable. His Person had always displeased her, and his design rendered him odious; She believed that that perfect Esteem which she had for the Count of Amboise, might supply, the place of Love, and that it had been easier for her to become his, since she had no longer hopes of marrying Sansac, than to be the Viscount of Tavanes'. In fine, the passed danger did no longer appear an evil to her, and she gave that name but to the present.  
Madam of Roye, desirous to let Amboise know he had not lost her confiance in him, made no Secret to him of Monsieur of Tavanes' Marriage with her Daughter, and she spoke to him of it, as a thing that would be very soon concluded. What did not that News produce in Monsieur of Amboise's mind? Madmoiselle of Roye was going to marry a man whom he knew that she did not love. The thoughts of losing her for ever, and to see her in the possession of an Husband, who had so little deserved her, did excite at once his despair and his indignation.  
He begged the permission of Madam of Roye of seeing her Daughter, and he immediately went to find her in her Apartment. She was in such a sorrowful condition, that he stood not in need of his discourse of Love to be sensibly moved with it. Her Face was covered with Tears, which did not diminish her Beauty. You are Witness of my Sorrow, said she, (finding that she could not hide her Tears) and you will soon learn what has caused it. I know, it may be, but too much already, replied he, and I dare say, Madmoiselle, that I am more sensible of those evils that you feel, than of all those that you have made me. How cruel is your goodness to me, said Madmoiselle of Roye, whose Sorrow forced to speak! Conceal it from me in compassion, that I may less know the value of what I have lost. What do you tell me, Madmoiselle? said he, I have not acquired so much indifferency, as to hear quietly those words from your mouth. I seek not to flatter you, said she, but it is certain that I shall repent myself all my life time of the proceeding that I have had with you, and that I shall find myself most unfortunate in marrying the Viscount of Tavanes. Ah! Madmoiselle, said he, I cannot complain of my disgrace, since it draws from you such obliging words in my behalf; is it possible for you to prefer me to any one? I had never known it, had you not forced me to renounce my pretences to you; but what obstacles soever I have put to my happiness, it were not impossible for me to overcome them, if you consented to it. You would have my consent much more easily, if that signified any thing, said Madmoiselle of Roye, who saw nothing yet but the torment of marrying Tavanes. Monsieur of Amboise was so transported with the Joy which those words gave him, that he had no prospect of what could trouble her. The Suspicions which he had had of Sansac, were blotted out of his mind. He found that he had taken them on light Suspicion. Madam of Roye had spoken to him of Tavanes' Marriage as a thing very far advanced, but not wholly concluded. He went to the Prince of Conde, he conjured him to speak to Madam of Roye, for he had been in too great a confusion in speaking to her himself, because of the irregularity which he had shown in his proceeding. That Prince who had so far condescended as to enter into the Particulars of his Amours, so soon as it had begun, seized on that opportunity of doing him a good office. He went to see Madam of Roye, and he easily engaged her to re-enter into her former Friendship with the Count of Amboise, whom she had always valued more than all the rest: She told her Daughter, that if it was true that she had no inclinations towards the Viscount of Tavaves, she would proceed no further with him, but take up again her first Engagements with Monsieur of Amboise.  
Madmoiselle of Roye, who had at first only thought of not marrying Tavanes, perceived that she had but changed her misfortune; this of truth, was the least of the two, but it was sufficient to bring her to despair. In fine, 'twas her own doing, there was no ways left for her to avoid it, wherefore she told her Mother, that she would obey her without any repugnancy.  
Madam of Roye did raise some difficulties about the Marriage of the Count of Tavanes, and having not yet engaged her Word to him, she broke off the Match, as if she had not designed any such thing.  
Madam of Tournon, who was too deeply engaged in her Friendship, to be ignorant of what passed, did offer Sansac's Propositions to her; after she had found that there was no hopes left for him, which made him be refused a second time. That Countess informed him of it, with all the malice that she was capable of. She made him a confidence of Tavanes' Designs, and of their Progress, telling him besides, that Madmoiselle of Roye could not bear the thoughts of being any body's else but Amboise's; that a small thing having made them to differ, their Accommodation had been easy; and that she had herself engaged her Lover to get some body to speak to her Mother about it. The thing was true in appearance, she told it in the same manner to some Persons, that it might be reported again to Sansac. He entered into a violent Fury against Madmoiselle of Roye; he accused her of having deceived him by her false Kindness. He accused himself of having designed to deceive himself. He examined how feeble those things were which had flattered him. In fine, he abandoned himself to despair, as easily as he had given himself up to hope, and at last ceased from seeing Madmoiselle of Roye.  
She had taken up a resolution, which she had much to do to keep, her Sorrow was excessive, and Amboise was not so happy as not to discern it. All those Suspicions which he had entertained of Sansac, returned into his mind, yet the preference which she had given him to the Viscount of Tavanes, and the flattering things which she had told him on that Subject, did buoy him up against his Suspicions; and though those reflections might disturb that good Fortune which he waited for, it did not hinder him from expecting of it.  
All things did dispose themselves in order to his Marriage. Madmoiselle of Roye had a great regard for him; but when she was alone, she would compensate Sansac with a Deluge of Tears. She looked upon herself as the Cause of his Sorrows. She had never seen herself so ready to enter into an Engagement, against which her whole Heart did revolt. She was not able to support those various agitations, and she fell sick.  
What a trouble was this to Monsieur of Amboise! he could not doubt but that her sickness was the effect of that vexation which she had of marrying him. He thought himself obliged to visit her every day, and he found her full of Respect for him. Notwithstanding the Grief which she caused him, he esteemed her the more, and he loved her not less, on the contrary, Admiration and Compassion joining with his other Sentiments, did render his Passion the stronger, but at the same time more capable of Reason. How could he find in his heart to force a Person, who constrained herself for his sake? He found that he must disengage himself a second time, but then in restoring Madmoiselle of Roye to herself, he should put her into the hands of his Rival. That thought would make him tremble, and he resolved on nothing.  
Mean time Madmoiselle of Roy's sickness increased daily. He then was sensible, that he loved her to that degree, as not to dispute her any longer to his Rival at so dear a rate as her own life. He found that she could not be but unhappy with any other. He thought he might obtain so much over himself. He even flattered himself with the thoughts, that peradventure an extraordinary Action would produce an extraordinary Effect, and that if it did not bring back Madmoiselle of Roye to him, by doing that for her which another were not capable to do, he should at least render all other men unworthy of being beloved by her. Finally, out of the Shipwreck of all his Hopes, he did frame to himself a new kind of Hope. At least he thought that he should sour his Rival's happiness, in resigning his Mistress to him. But after all, these were but Ideas. His heart could not relish those Reasons, and it was easier for him to perform the business, than to resolve it.  
The next day he went to see Madmoiselle of Roye. He found her weeping, though she endeavoured to conceal her Tears, and to show a serene and clear Countenance. It is difficult to represent the condition he found himself in. The struggle, the constraint, which was made in his behalf, did lead him unto that which he was to do on himself. Love, Compassion, Despair did produce a thousand Combats in his Soul. He remained a long while without speaking; but at last, beholding Madmoiselle of Roye with Eyes bathed in Tears; Madmoiselle, said he, you have hitherto had more strength than I, I tremble at my Project, but yet I may execute it. You set before me an Example of dying, if it must be so, through constraint. Well, the business is done, I will tear me from myself, conceal not from me your Sentiments for Sansac. I will undertake any thing to make him enjoy an Happiness, of which you judge him more deserving than me; for can I be more unhappy than I am already? At least I shall please you in giving you to my Rival. He observed, during this Discourse, an impression of Joy on the Face of Madmoiselle of Roye, which he had never before seen. He was in a Despair at what he was going to do, and yet did not repent it. There are certain moments in which one seems to act by a superior Power; what he was doing did more partake of the Hero than of the Lover, and at the same time did render him worthy both of Envy and Compassion. I am going, Madmoiselle, said he, about a Design which will not be finished, if retarded, and all the Favour that I require of you, is, not to forget, wherever you see me, that I am the most miserable of all men for Love of You. Madmoiselle of Roye was not able to resist the diversity of emotion that she was in. Surprise, Fear, and Shame did agitate her Heart, insomuch that her Fever redoubled in an instant, so considerably, that it was thought her Life was going to be in very great danger. There needed not so much to fix Monsieur of Amboise in his resolution. He run to Madam of Roye's Apartment, he informed her of the danger in which her Daughter was, and of the Passion which had seized her Heart. He conjured her to have no further regard for him, and to think of nothing but of Madmoiselle of Roye. That Mother did really love her Daughter. That young Person's sickness did put her in a wonderful agitation, and any thing that could contribute to her Cure, did seem pleasing to her. She expressed to Monsieur of Amboise how sensible she was of his Generosity, and gave him Praises, of which he was very insensible. He found that he succeeded too easily in that which he had undertaken. He left Madam of Roye, and went home, where he shut himself up, and abandoned himself unto all that Despair can represent us of horrid. When he found that he had no more to do, he thought on what he had done. He leisurely looked on the Marriage of Madmoiselle of Roye with the Marquis of Sansac, against which there were no more obstacles to remove. He found that he himself had delivered her unto him, whom of all other men he should most fear should possess her, and he was a thousand times on the point of punishing him for what he had already done for him, to prevent him by his death, from obtaining a good which he had newly abandoned to him. After that, he represented to himself that condition in which he had seen Madmoiselle of Roye. That Idea would retain him, but then he would consider to what an excess of misery his Compassion had brought him. He appeared as newly come out of a Dream, and he had much ado to believe the Reality of that which he had the power to perform. He fancied that Madmoiselle of Roye would forget what he had done for her, and how much it had cost him, through the Joy that she should receive of being possessed by a man whom she tenderly loved. That reflection rendered all things unsufferable to him; he fancied that he could hate Madmoiselle of Roye as much as he did Sansac, and he believed that he would never see the one nor the other.  
Madam of Roye did employ one of her Friends, who was Friend also to the Marquis of Sansac, to let him know that Monsieur of Amboise was wholly disengaged from Madmoiselle of Roye, and that if he made any steps towards obtaining of her, he should no longer meet with any obstacles. That Marquis was too deeply in Love, to make any reflections on those Refusals which he had twice already received. Those Advances which Madam of Roye now made him, were sufficient reparations, but he was desirous to know her Daughter's Sentiments. He went to that Countess'; where he did see Madmoiselle of Roye, unto whom Joy restored that Health, which Sorrow and Grief had taken from her. It was not hard for him to perceive that he was beloved; he partly apprehended it by those things which she let scape, and more yet by those which she avoided to tell him.  
The Marquis of Sansac informed his Father of the favourable Change to his advantage, which had been made in Madmoiselle of Roye's mind, but he found that he was no longer in the same dispositions for her Alliance. That refusal which she had made of her Son, had so irritated him, as never to be reconciled; but other Reasons besides did join themselves to that. The Count of Sansac was hated by Catherine de Medicis, because he had been Governor to Francis the Second, who she had never loved. She complained that that Governor had brought him up in a great independency in regard of her, and she had some disgust even against his Son also, on that account. She had had occasion to observe when he died, how much her Sentiments had been respected by all the Court, except the Sansacs'. The Body of the late King was carried to St. Denis without any Show. Messieurs of Guise, the Uncles to the Queen his Wife, waited not on the Corpse, and that the Count of Sansac alone, with his Son, did accompany him. The Queen Regent was not long without showing her resentments towards the Count of Sansac on divers occasions. He was no longer seconded by any Person, he found that he had occasion of being supported.  
Madmoiselle of Roye, and even Madam of Roye also, who troubled not herself, but with what concerned her Daughter, having always followed the Court of Mary of Scotland, more than that of Catherine de Medicis, were not proper Persons to restore him again into Favour. He had other Vows, and he told his Son, that after the disobliging refusal which Madam of Roye had made of receiving him for her Son-in-law, he ought to be ashamed of desiring still to become so, and declared, that he would never give his Consent to that Marriage. That Lover did cast himself at his Father's feet; he told him, that the happiness of his whole life depended on marrying of Madmoiselle of Roye, but he could not make him alter his Design.  
The Marquis of Sansac rebelled against his Father at that Severity, his Mother had left him great means, and though those of his Father were considerable, he sacrificed them all without reluctancy to his Love. He drew two of his Uncles to his Party, who made all the steps which were to be made towards Madam of Roye, and whose Propositions were received, but on condition that the Marquis of Sansac should reconcile himself to his Father again, before the Marriage should be finished, and that their Treaty should remain secret till then.  
Mean time that Marquis had the liberty to visit frequently Madmoiselle of Roye, whose health did daily strengthen, and whose Beauty did still increase, since her heart had been at ease. She sensibly did feel what she owed to the Count of Amboise. She would gladly have shown him, how much she was concerned at it, and have given him some satisfaction in her acknowledgement for those Sentiments which she could not have for him; but she could not see him to do it, because he took care to avoid her. Mean time he learned that her Marriage with Sansac was not suddenly to be accomplished; but though those thoughts might in some measure alleviate his grief, hay took it not away.  
Madmoiselle of Sansac returned to Paris, she learned with no small pleasure Amboise's Action, and she continually did speak of it to Madmoiselle of Roye. One day that they were walking together in the Gardens of the Lovure, they met with him all alone, raving so profoundly, that he was near Madmoiselle of Roye, without perceiving it. He would have continued his Walk, but that she stopped him. You will let me, said she, make advantage of these opportunities which mere Chance affords me, of letting you know my Sentiments, I have long sought after them in vain. Why, Madmoiselle, said he, it would be cruel to desire to see me still, I am of no use to you. And making her a profound Reverence, he retired, without looking once on Madmoiselle of Sansac. They were surprised at this flight. Madmoiselle of Sansac was vexed that he had not so much as taken notice of her. Madmoiselle of Roye knew by the Count's Sorrow, and by his sudden Retreat, how strong his Passion still remained, and how extraordinary his Generosity had been. She had a most sensible Grief, for having rendered so worthy a man so miserable.  
He was very much troubled for having left her so abruptly, he feared having offended her, and that she should come in time to hate him. In short, he had still felt some satisfaction in seeing her. He had deprived himself of that content for fear of abandoning himself too much to it; but he found that his Reasoning had been too cruel, and what could happen to him of greater Sorrow, than to be hated by Madmoiselle of Roye, and of never seeing her? Yet he would not go to her House, but he found that it would be a great satisfaction to him to meet her.  
Sansac did find the retarding of his happiness so unsufferable, that he was not much less afflicted, than when he was uncertain of being beloved. It was in vain that he pressed Madam of Roye to consent that he should marry her Daughter, but notwithstanding the Marquis of Sansac's vexations, she would not consent that he should lose part of his Estate by making too much haste. That Esteem which that Countess had for D'Amboise, did make her wish that he might still remain in the number of her Friends. Mean time, though she was vexed that she no longer had any Commerce with him, she durst not reproach him of it, but having occasion to employ him in a considerable business, she let him know it, and he could not dispense from going to her. He returned thither with some trouble and with some satisfaction. He found Madmoiselle of Roye all alone in her Mother's Chamber, and he was so surprised and seized at the sight of her, that he remained without motion.  
Madam of Roye was in her Closet with a Person of Worth, when he came in. They being busy in a particular Concern, she met him, and entreated him to remain one moment with her Daughter in her Chamber. Madmoiselle of Roye was at first sight disturbed at the presence of a man unto whom she was so infinitely obliged, and whom she judged, by what had lately happened, that even her acknowledgement might trouble. Monsieur the Count of Amboise's trouble was extraordinary, he found himself again near a Person who he had been forced to abandon, but who he still adored, and yet would no more declare it, though he wished she did know it; in fine, with a Person who raised in him a most cruel Jealousy, and who inspired him with extreme Respect. They both kept silence for a time, and she first broke it. I cannot hinder myself from rejoicing at the sight of you, said she, though you appear not to be pleased with being here. Madmoiselle, replied he, is it possible that the presence of a Miserable, whom you have forced to renounce you, should not be displeasing to you? I have not constrained you to it, said Madmoiselle of Roye, you have made me a voluntary Sacrifice. 'Las! Madmoiselle, you were dying, if I had not made it. You could not bear the thought of being mine; I was depriving you of that Person without which you cannot live. You say a great deal, replied Madmoiselle of Roye, blushing. 'Las! Madam, why all this constraint and reservedness? Confess that you love my Rival. I know it, and I can perceive it, against my will, and that reservedness of which you make use, is a refinement of tenderness, of which I am more jealous, than of all other things which you could signify to me, that you had for him. But what am I telling you, continued he, why do I let you see these things? I beg your pardon, I love you, I shall love you all my life. I could not so master myself, as not to speak to you once of Sansac, but I shall mention him no more. I respect you enough, to respect even your Passion. I shall incessantly constrain myself, and I shall never entertain you of mine. And the only Favour that I demand of you, is, that you would consider me, as something more than a Friend. I even look upon you, replied she, as something more than a Lover. You have done for me things so little common, that I cannot have for you any common Sentiments.  
That Count's Conduct had been so worthy of Admiration, and Madmoiselle of Roye was so obliged to him, that she thought she ought to speak to him with mildness, yet after such a manner, as should not flatter his Love; therefore those words did cause him to sigh. Madam of Roye came in as she was ending. That Countess informed Monsieur of Amboise in what he could serve her, and he promised to obey her punctually in what she desired. They were of some Concern to Madmoiselle of Roye, and he found himself pleased with the pleasure of serving her. Her Civilities, or rather her Sight, had re-established a kind of Softness in his Soul, though she had not said any thing to him which favoured his Passion. It was still much, that she had for him all the Esteem which he deserved, and that she had given him notice of it.  
The business in which Madam of Roye had employed him, did oblige him to return more than once to her House. He no longer did avoid Madmoiselle of Roy's Company, and he began again to accustom himself to speak to her. It may be also that he found in his heart some tendency towards hope. The obstacles which opposed the Marriage of the Marquis of Sansac, might last long. It was not impossible but that a submissive and disinteressed Conduct might acquire a particular good Will from Madmoiselle of Roye towards him, and that he never mentioning his Passion to her, yet still letting her perceive that it was not extinct, should not gain at last some advantage on those Sentiments which she had for a Rival, who deserved them less than he.  
Madam of Tournon was strangely vexed that she could not prevent the conjunction of Sansac with Madmoiselle of Roye; she sought after some means, at least, to break it, and the Count of Sancerre, who about that time returned to Paris, appeared fit to serve her in that Design, he was her particular Friend, but he had never informed her of his inclinations towards Madmoiselle of Roye, and she had discovered it but through that application which she had always had for any thing that concerned that lovely Person; he had ever had much to do to own a passion to her from which he hoped so little, that he had concealed it even from the Person who had caused it.  
The Count of Sancerre was well made, he was subtle, dextrous, and witty. The Countess had prevented him as much as she could from loving Madmoiselle of Roye, and she had contributed much in making him undertake that Journey which he had made partly to avoid her. But Love caused her to change her Designs, she sacrificed the Jealousy of Love unto that tenderness which she had for Sansac, and she did assure the Count of Sancerre, that she should compass her Ends in making him to marry her, provided he would exactly follow that conduct which she should prescribe to him. She advised him to endeavour to insinuate himself in her mind, under the notion of a Friend, and to conceal from her his real Sentiments, till the fit time to let them break forth with success. Sancerre did approve of an Advice which did so well agree with his Humour and his Interest.  
Madmoiselle of Sansac could not bear with that indifferency which d'Amboise had for her, she began to treat him ill, and to be almost rude to him, which from a rational Person could not be but so many marks of a passion. He understood, with trouble, those Sentiments unto which he could not answer, and of which his own misfortunes did invite him to have some compassion. Madmoiselle of Roye perceived in what a condition the heart of her Friend was, by those odd kind of Complaints which she incessantly made her of that Count She feared every thing, from a disposition like that of Monsieur of Amboise; sometimes she did hope that Madmoiselle of Sansac's tenderness would move him; she would have mentioned it to him, but when she reflected on the independency of inclinations, that which she felt in her Heart of that Nature, caused her to tremble, in the behalf of her Friend.  
Madmoiselle of Sansac remained in a Melancholy, which prevented the return of her health. She had asked leave of the Queen to withdraw herself from Court, and she lived with her Father very retiredly. Madmoiselle of Roye did share in her troubles, and she was so just as to remain obliged to her for it. That indifferency which Madmoiselle of Roye had for D'Amboise, did flatter Madmoiselle of Sansac, and hindered her from hating of her. She endeavoured to soften her Father's mind on Sansac's Marriage with Madmoiselle of Roye, and despaired not of accomplishing it; but there happened new Causes of Sorrow, which prevented her from executing that which she had proposed.  
One day that they were together in Madmoiselle of Sansac's Coach, they perceived Amboise in his, carried away by his Horses with so much violence, that his life was in danger. Madmoiselle of Sansac grew pale, and bid her men to drive her Coach cross their passage to stop them. She spoke in such an earnest and pressing manner to them, that notwithstanding the danger which they run in themselves in obeying, they followed her Orders, which was done with so much good Fortune, the Horses, whose first fury began to relent, meeting with the others in Front, passed no further.  
As he was going to return thanks to those who had put themselves in danger to save him, he perceived Sansac's Liveries, he thought it was his Rival, and was strangely troubled to owe him his life. Mean time, not to let him see any ingratitude, which he naturally had not, he advanced towards that Coach, but perceived in it nothing but Women. Madmoiselle of Roye did present herself first to his sight, Madmoiselle of Sansac had found herself so ill through the disturbance which that Adventure had caused in her, that she had been obliged to lean on one of her hands. He was beginning to return thanks to Madmoiselle of Roye, in terms in which his Passion did express itself against his Will; but she told him, that he owed the whole obligation to Madmoiselle of Sansac; and though he was vexed to have deceived himself in a thing that had so much pleased him, he could not dispense himself from returning her thanks with great acknowledgements; he left them to let them continue their way.  
After he had left them, Madmoiselle of Sansac finding herself with Madmoiselle of Roye; You have seen my weakness, said she, it is no longer time for me to distinguish it. I have always denied myself the satisfaction of complaining to you, that I might not entertain a Sorrow which I condemn. Take pity on me, and afford me some consolation. You are not guilty, answered Madmoiselle of Roye, no person is exempt from passion, it is sufficient for us to oppose them. I would that the confidence which you show me, might be of use to you. She embraced her in saying these words. Madmoiselle of Sansac perceived with Sorrow, that they were come to that place where they were expected. That Conversation did please her, and she entreated Madmoiselle of Roye to come the next morning, if she could, to walk with her in a pleasant place, where her little shar● of health obliged her to take the Air every morning.  
Madmoiselle of Roye saw once more that day the Count of Amboise at Madam of Tournon's. The Company was at Play, they were the only two Persons that did no● so. Madmoiselle of Roye drew near to the Window, to speak to that Count She was desirous to know after what manner he would resent that which Madmoiselle o● Sansac had done for him. I ha● some delight to think that it was to you that I owed my life, said he Madmoiselle, but you will not 〈◊〉 much permit me to enjoy an Error which may be pleasing to me. What do you tell me, replied Madmoiselle of Roye, interrupting him? 〈◊〉 should be very sorry that you shoul● always have such Sentiments 〈◊〉 should give you occasion of not being well pleased with me, and that gave me cause also of not being well pleased with you. Madmoiselle, answered he, I did not think to trouble you. I require no passion of you, added he against his Will, leave me mine, that's all I require of you. I cannot consent to it, said she, that consideration that I have for you opposes itself to it, and if you did but know in what an extremity one finds one self when one is full of esteem, of acknowledgements, and if one dares to say it, of pity, for a Person that would merit something more, I should not peradventure appear to you less to be pitied than you yourself. Upon this they both kept silence; Then Madmoiselle of Roye representing to herself earnestly the condition in which she had seen her Friend, could not resist the desire that she had to make a Merit of it towards the Count; She designed to render him sensible of the pleasure of being beloved by a beautiful Person; She made him a sensible representation of Madmoiselle of Sansac's Sentiments. In fine, she knew that she hazarded nothing in making him such a confidence. The Count's discretion was known, and it was certain, that if he gloried not in his Conquest, however he would not make any boast of it. He could not answer to that which she had said, because that Madam of Roye, who had left off play, did rise to be gone, and took her Daughter along with her, even before that she had finished what she had to say, but he thought of nothing but to prevent her from believing that he had made any reflection on it.  
Madmoiselle of Roye would not inform Monsieur of Sansac, that the Count of Amboise was not yet become wholly indifferent, for fear of exciting him against a Person to whom he was obliged for yielding up his Right to him. She owed that weak consideration unto the Count, in consideration of those extraordinary things which he had done for her. Those Sentiments did not hurt her Passion. She was far from taking any other for Monsieur of Amboise than those of Compassion; and if she was divided betwixt those two Lovers, it was that she pitied the one, and loved the other.  
D'Amboise had found out a Pretence to go the next morning to Madam of Roye, but he met her at the Gate of the Louver. He told her that he had had that Design, and that having divers things to say, he would do it when she were returned. He asked one of those Women that accompanied her, the Reason why Madmoiselle of Roye was not with her Mother. Who told him, that she was gone to walk, and named to him the place. But she told him not that it was with Madmoiselle of Sansac, because she was following of Madam of Roye, and wanted time to do it.  
Monsieur of Amboise run to the place, without examining any further. It was in one of those fine places, which credit their Masters by being seen. Persons came to it two different ways; he came into the Garden, where he found at first none but Madmoiselle of Sansac. Madmoiselle of Roye had been detained by Madam of Tournon, who having met her, would have accompanied her, so that she had feigned to go elsewhere, that she might be alone with her Friend.  
D'Amboise, who had been perceived by Madmoiselle of Sansac, could not avoid speaking to her. She told him, that she was expecting Madmoiselle of Roye, and that she was weary of staying for her; so that he could not leave her. till her Company was come. They were both in a disorder, the Count did fancy that Madmoiselle of Roye seeing him with Madmoiselle of Sansac, would fancy that he might have made some reflections on what had been said the night before, and he had left her abruptly, had he not been detained with a desire of seeing Madmoiselle of Roye. Madmoiselle of Sansac was not in a less perplexity. She had not been sorry that he had known some part of her Sentiments, and she had been in great disorder in declaring them to him herself.  
The End of the First Part.   

THE Count of Amboise; OR, THE GENEROUS LOVER. PART II.  
AT last Madmoiselle of Roye did join them; they were not far from the Garden-door, and they went to meet her so far. She joyed the Count for being in so good Company, with a design of obliging him to say some kind thing or other to Madmoiselle of Sansac, but he presently took upon him to justify his intentions after a manner which caused Madmoiselle of Roye to fear lest he should disoblige her Friend; She made a pretence of immediately returning, took Madmoiselle of Sansac with her. I will, said she to Monsieur of Amboise, take her from you, to punish you of your dissimulation. Ending these words, she got into her Coach with so much haste, that he had not time to answer.  
He was very much troubled to see Madmoiselle of Roye's obstinacy in persuading herself in an opinion, which he knew however would not trouble her; whether he feared giving her the least subject of Jealousy, or of giving her none, he could not be pleased at it, the trouble, satisfaction, or the indifferency of that fair Creature, were equally cruel to him.  
He was in the mind of running after her, and of not leaving her till he had wholly justified himself; but the pretence which she had taken of returning, giving him some reason to believe that she would not be so soon at her House, he went to wait on the King, and he left against his Will those two Lovers at liberty.  
When they were returned to Madmoiselle of Roye's, and got into her Chamber, she found herself in some disorder. That little success which she foresaw as to Madmoiselle of Sansac's Passion, did make her fear entering on that Subject; yet she perceived that her silence was a greater trouble; so that she invited her to speak, that it might ease her mind, though it afforded her no comfort.  
If one durst ask you, said she, by what means the Count of Amboise could produce in you for his Person, such Sentiments as he is so unworthy of— I know that I am in the wrong, replied Madmoiselle of Sansac, interrupting her; yet I can in a manner excuse myself, I unseasonably did see Monsieur of Amboise with you: I thought him amiable on the very account of that zeal with which he loved; I was charmed with his tenderness. You loved him not; and though this knowledge gave me a private satisfaction, I did blame your injustice, and I went too far in going about to avoid it. When I spoke to the Queen, to prevent your Marriage with him, I thought to engage myself in it for your sake, or for my Brother's; but I have since found that it was my own interest that pushed me on; Madam of Roye did render all my Projects useless, in her steadfastness to her first Sentiments for the Count; I was troubled for not having succeeded better. You returned into the Country, the Count went frequently to visit you; I did scarce see him after that, which gave me to understand how dear he was to me; I would have opposed myself to my inclinations, but it was in vain, and at the very time that I endeavoured to call back my Reason; I continually did think on him, and so made an end of losing it.  
She remained silent during a while; then she continued, perceiving that Madmoiselle of Roye did not speak; I did feel distinctly a Jealousy; I had some regret for having offered to take you from the Count, seeing that thereby he was not the more mine: but I fell in a Despair when he thought a second time of marrying you, and I found no quiet, till by an extraordinary excess of Love, he had resigned you to his Rival. That Action did highly increase my Esteem, in my opinion it did authorize that which I felt for him, and even that which I had acted against him; and tho▪ that Example of Generosity did condemn me, I could not see the difference of his proceeding and mine; I thought that my Conduct was justified sufficiently by that unconcernedness and your indifferency; but in effect, it was but a little hope which did justify all. Alas! I was not long in that situation, If I had some moments that were less disagreeable, they were but moments still, you can tell whether I have had any occasion to flatter myself.  
Madmoiselle of Sansac could no longer continue such a Discourse, and pouring forth a Torrent of Tears, she obliged Madmoiselle of Roye to speak to her. I am more miserable than you, said she, I feel all your troubles as you do yourself, and I have besides the trouble of having caused them; It is through my means that you have particularly known the Count of Amboise; It is perhaps through his Love to me, that he enters not into those Sentiments which are due to your Merits. In fine, it is my indifferency towards him, that has given place to your pity; all turns to poison to you, I dare not undertake any thing, and after I have caused all your Sorrows, I have the trouble of not being able to bring you out of them; You ought not to have any more friendship for me; You consider me as a Rival; perhaps that you hate me. No, replied Madmoiselle of Sansac, is-Amboise that must be hated, and not you, but I cannot have so much as the satisfaction of hating either of you. What has he done to me? he has not betrayed me, seeing that he never loved me. Alas! must that be the Cause that must take me off of complaining?  
Here her redoubled Tears did force her a second time to silence, and Madmoiselle of Roye perceiving some alteration in her Face, feared that she should not be well, and obliged her to lay herself on the Bed; after which she went into her Closet to speak with one of her Servants, it was to tell her from Madam of Roye, that the Count of Amboise was to come, and that she should receive him, if he came before her return. He came in that very instant; and having seen no body in the Antichamber nor in the Chamber, because that Madmoiselle of Roye had ordered her Women, when she came in with Madmoiselle of Sansac, to go into her Closet, which was at some distance, that they might not interrupt their Conversation: he was going out, but Madmoisele of Sansac having turned herself to see who it was, she had made a little noise, he drew near to the Bed, whose Curtains were half drawn. He knew her not, she had part of her Coifs over her Face; he took her to be Madmoiselle of Roye who was resting on the Bed; so that having still his mind filled with the Adventure of the Garden, and fearing also to lose the opportunity of speaking to her. Madmoiselle, said he, I cannot defer one moment justifying of myself, could you be so hardhearted to belive that I could love Madmoiselle of Sansac? I had not yesterday leisure to answer you, on what you would have had me to think of her Sentiments; but was there any occasion for that? If that your indifferency could not make me change, all the passion that can be had for me, could do no more.  
Madmoiselle of Roye, who apprehended that some body was entering, and who also was advertised another way, that it was Monsieur of Amboise, returned in the Chamber, and said to him with a loud voice, That a Lady of her Friends was sleeping on that Bed, and that she would receive him in another Chamber, but she knew not that he had said too much already.  
Madmoiselle of Sansac had been struck by it as with a Thunderbolt, and that last misfortune was so horrid, that nothing but death could take from her the shame and the sorrow of it. She remained on the Bed of Madmoiselle of Roye overwhelmed with divers different thoughts, without coming to any resolution.  
Monsieur of Amboise was with Madmoiselle of Roye; he was telling her the same things, which he thought that he had told her before, when he had spoken to Mdamoiselle of Sansac; but she let him see that she took no delight in hearing them, and if any thing was capable of moving her, it could be nothing but those Sentiments that he should take up for her Friend. He was troubled at that indifferency, and he remained seized with so great a Sorrow, that he desisted from speaking to her. Madam of Roye returned sooner than she had thought to do, and Madmoiselle of Roye went to Madmoiselle of Sansac, whose Despair increased by her Presence. She made a loud and sorrowful Out cry when she saw her: Ah! you have betrayed me, said she, I at least thought that the Count was ignorant of my weakness: but there wanted something more to perfect your Victory, you have found some satisfaction in that Sacrifice that he has offered up to you of me. I beg your pardon for distrusting you in this thought; but why did yond tell him that I loved him, seeing he loved you? She had not the power to proceed, her Tears did run abundantly down, and she could do nothing but weep.  
Madmoiselle of Roye apprehended part of what had passed, she had nothing to answer her, and it was then a fit time to justify her intentions, when she was guilty through such sad Effects; all that she could say or do, was to assure her that it would be easy to take off of the Count the thoughts of being beloved; but the Remedy was not yet according to Madmoiselle of Sansac's mind: No. said she, let him know it, and I shall never see him more. Upon this she did rise from the Bed, and went from Madmoiselle of Roye, with the design of never returning there again; and the next day she went to one of her Father's Country-houses, which was near the City of Tours. There she did endeavour to forget all the World, she abandoned the design of pursuing the Marriage of her Brother with Madmoiselle of Roye, though it might have been of use to have revenged herself of Amboise; and all her Sentiments yielded to her shame: Thus she left to that Friend nothing but the vexation of having lost a Person, unto whom she entrusted her Sentiments, and of preserving still an unhappy Lover.  
Monsieur of Amboise's Constancy was so cruel to Madmoiselle of Roye, through its Consequences, that she began to fancy it a Crime in him; she would no longer speak to him, but with a kind of sharpness, against which he was not prepared. He had not thought that she would ill treat him, because he could love none but her. There entered in that new rigour a kind of injustice and contempt, which seemed to him not to be born withal; he fancied that he could live without loving a Person, whose ingratitude deserved his hatred, or rather his forgetting of her, and he began to shun her more than he had ever done.  
Sansac was desperate at his Sister's absence; he had no longer any body near his Father that spoke for him; so that after he had writ to Madmoiselle of Sansac all to no purpose, he went to seek her where she was. He did all he could to oblige her to return, but he obtained nothing from her, and he could not put her one moment out of that deadly grief in which she was plunged.  
Madam of Tournon, who saw him extremely afflicted, and who thought of some means of reclaiming him from Madmoiselle of Roye, feigned a new Earnestness of Concerns for his Interest; she told him, that one of her Friends that had a full power over the Count of Sansac's mind, would soon be at Paris, and that she would employ all the Credit that she had in that Friend, to bring about the Marquess' Designs.  
Sansac was sensible, that of truth that Person, of whom she spoke, was a considerable Person with his Father: What a pleasure is it to behold a means to attain unto that Happiness which he had so long waited after! The strength of his Sentiments gave him again some friendship for that Countess. He promised her an eternal acknowledgement, and he frequented her with assiduity.  
She had introduced the Count of Sancerre at Madam of Roye's: He was of a Character of mind to please all those that he frequented with; he went fequently there, and his Love did daily increase, through the particular knowledge which he found of Madmoiselle of Roye's Wit; that Passion was even inflamed by that which he knew she had for the Marquis of Sansac. It often happens that a Lover sets a value on the Merit of a Mistress, which makes, that when he cannot cause her to be hated, he causes her to be infinitely beloved.  
Though Monsieur of Amboise did avoid Madmoiselle of Roye, it was not possible, but that he should sometimes meet her, and it was above a month since he had seen her, when that he found himself near her Person one day that the Queen Regent was receiving of Spanish Ambassadors. So soon as he perceived Madmoiselle of Roye, his first Design was to have changed place; but she saluted him after a manner, which though indifferent, had a Charm by which he found himself detained; mean time he durst not speak to her, but when the Ceremony was ended, the men gave their hands to the Ladies to lead them to their Coaches. The Marquis of Sansac was obliged to take that of Madam of Roye, and Monsieur of Amboise said to Madmoiselle of Roye, that he durst not offer her his; she answered nothing, and offered her hand to him with Civility.  
Never had Madmoiselle of Roye been so adorned, and so beautiful: Those Applauses which she had received, caused a modest Joy to appear on her Face, which would have excited Love in the most insensible Hearts. Though Sansac's Passion was arrived at that height, that it could not be increased, he had felt a new pleasure in beholding her that day. D'Amboise remembered the first time that he had seen her; which forced from him a profound sigh, and he beheld her with Eyes bedewed with Tears.  
There being great Apartments to go through, and divers Persons having stepped in between Madam and Madmoiselle of Roye, he had full leisure to entertain her. I am ashamed, Madmoiselle, said he, to let you know that your scorns and your hatred cannot hinder me from loving you: What further means will you attempt? they will all prove useless, there is nothing but death can rid you of me. You had promised me, said Madmoiselle of Roye, that you would use no more such discourses to me, what would you that I should answer you? Nothing, Madmoiselle, said he with an offended countenance, I have deserved but your indifferency. Well, added he, quite transported, return me that, since I am so unhappy, as to think that your anger is yet a greater evil to me. But, said Madmoiselle of Roye, ought you to be surprised at my resentment? You are the cause that I have lost my Friend. What of Madmoiselle, interrupted he, can you accuse me? Did I ever go about to touch her Heart? Was it possible for me to love any one but you? No, Madmoiselle, added he, as beyond himself, you owe me no tenderness, I detest mine; but I love you, and I am worthy of your pity. Complain not then, said Madmoiselle of Roye, I have given you what I could give you, and setting aside Love, you have had all my other Sentiments, I promise you the continuance of them, and let us no longer reproach one another.  
The Count' had no cause to be contented, but he had no right to complain. He put her into her Mother's Coach, where Sansac was waiting. The two Lovers saluted one another with a smile, which expressed all the Sentiments of their Hearts. Amboise, who had feigned not to look on Madmoiselle of Roye, had however taken notice of it, and he was piered at it with a mortal Sorrow; then did his evil become extreme, when he resolved to cure himself. He found that he should always be exposed to seek Madmoiselle of Roye, to meet her, and to suffer all that a desperate Love and Jealousy have that is most dreadful; so that seeing it was necessary he should quit Paris; he went to an Estate which he had near Reims, and promised himself never to return, till he had extinguished all the remainders of his unfortunate Passion. Thus was Madmoiselle of Roye delivered for a time from a Lover who began to be troublesome to her, because she had some considerations for him, and that she durst not ill treat him.  
But the Count of Sancerre and Madam of Tournon, from whom she had never feared any thing, were the Persons who were to cause all the evils and misfortunes of her life. Sancerre designed to get into her Favour, before he declared himself her Lover; so that he had began to enter into some Engagement with her, in speaking frequently of Sansac, and in favour of that Name he rendered himself amiable; she entertained him with a satisfaction which was even suspicious to Sansac, he feared to find a Rival in a man who appeared formidable, and who was assiduous at Madmoiselle of Roye's; he owned his Suspicions to her, but she assured him so firmly, that he was but a Friend, and she was so well persuaded of it herself, that she even made no reflections on Sansac's disquiets. Of truth, he had so much reason to assure himself of Madmoiselle of Roye's inclinations, that he was willing at first to submit his Jealousy to her.  
Madam of Tournon, who by the Promises which she had made him of employing herself in the behalf of his Marriage, had thereby engaged him to be obliging to her, caused to be spread abroad by the Count of Sancerre, that the Marquis was fallen in Love with her. Though Madmoiselle of Roye was advertised of the Reasons he had to manage her; That Countess was still brisk enough to produce some uneasy thoughts in a Rival.  
Madmoiselle of Roye informed Sansac of what was said of him, he remained in a Surprise, which appeared very natural; he answered her after so tender a manner, and he did love her so sincerely, that he could not fail of being soon justified. He offered to break off with Madam of Tournon, but they both thought they had the same interest to preserve her their Friend. She at last desired him not to alter his Conduct, and assured him, that she should never be concerned at it.  
Her Jealousy appeared so tender to her Lover, that in that very instant he lost that which he had had of Sancerre; he was even so ashamed, for having mistrusted of infidelity so nice a Heart, that he feared putting her in mind of those fears which he had expressed; but that quiet lasted not long, Madam of Tournon designing that they should both at one and the same time entertain Suspicions one of another, gained to her Party that Woman of Madmoiselle of Roye's, in whom she put the greatest confidence; she gave her a Letter which was directed to Madmoiselle of Roye, but she entreated her not to show it to her, and so to contrive the business, that Sansac might read it, without any sign that there had been any design he should see it.  
Chance did favour her intention some few days after, and the business was punctually done. Sansac came one Enening to Madam of Roye's, she was not there, some of her Friends waited some time for her return, but that day she was to sup with her Daughter at Madam of Tournon's; mean time this Woman feign'd as if she knew nothing of it, she told Sansac that they would soon return, and she would have him to go into Madam of Roye's Apartment, of which she had designedly mislaid the Key, to have occasion of leading him in that of Madmoiselle of Roye's. She had newly carried that Letter there, with which she had charged herself; it lay on the Table unsealed, and seemed as if it had been forgotten. She left the Marquis alone, who read the Letter which was of the Count of Sancerre's hand, whose Writing Sansac knew. Sancerre by that Letter did confess to Madmoiselle of Roye, that he had a long time thought to be no more but a Friend to her; that therefore he had disguised his real Sentiments under that notion, but now he could no longer forbear letting her know them. Sansac read it with the same vexation, as if in learning the Count's Love, he had also learned that he was beloved.  
That Woman returned into the Chamber, when she thought he might have read the Letter, and she told him that Madmoiselle of Roye had newly sent back her people, and that she should pass that Evening at Madam of Tournon's. He immediately went thither, not doubting but that Sancerre would be there; yet having at a distance observed his Liveries at the door, he was struck at that sight, as if he did not expect it. He went into Madam of Tournon's, to see in what manner Madmoiselle of Roye would govern herself with her new Lover; but she having not seen the Letter, which could inform her of this Count's Sentiments, she therefore altered not her former Conduct towards him.  
Sansac was almost mad to see her in her usual Gaiety; his Jealousy did persuade him that it was rather increased: Never had he found those things which Sancerre said, so unfit to please, and he never did so much fear lest they should please; at last he went out in the most furious trouble that he ever had been in his life. The next day he could not see Madmoiselle of Roye alone, and the day following they set forth for Reims at the Coronation of Charles the Ninth.  
A considerable time had already passed since the death of Francis the Second; Pleasures began to spring up again at Court, and of truth they had scarce discontinued, because it was the Queen Regent's pleasure, who would be absolute, to keep all things in Idleness and Wantonness; she graced every day with some Festival; and being always followed by the most beautiful Women, who made their Lovers to act according to their Will, she reigned with a full Authority by the means of Gallantry.  
Madam of Roye, whom a slight indisposition did oblige to stay at Paris, would have retained her Daughter with her, but the Queen desired not to deprive her of a Person who adorned her Court; so that she entrusted Madam of Tournon with her, who she still believed to be the most sincere of all her Friends. Her Daughter had not told her the distrust which she had of that Countess; for fear she had found them too little reasonable.  
During the Journey Madam of Tournon did observe Madmoiselle of Roye, and on the pretence of Friendship, did not leave her one moment: That Letter which Sansac had read, having not been writ to any other end, but that he should see it, Madmoiselle of Roye had not heard one word of it. Sancerre was still cautious of giving her any Suspicion that he loved her. His Rival was first to be destroyed, and he was contented in labouring jointly with Madam of Tournon to sow a discord betwixt those two Lovers, and in preventing them from coming to a right Understanding.  
Madam of Tournon had told Sansac, that though she was willing to serve him in his Marriage near his Father, she would not enter with Madmoiselle of Roye in the confidence of his Love, and that it was not convenient for her to act in any thing of that nature with a young Person. He could not blame her for it, and he the less suspected that she were capable of, taking another Interest in him, than that of Friendship. This Marquis continued to entertain a Jealousy in his Bosom. He saw that Madmoiselle of Roye did not break off with Sancerre, and he already judged her too guilty, to merit his reproaches, but he expressed an extraordinary coldness towards her; she attributed it to his new passion for the Countess, and she preserved a secret spite at it, which appeared not at first but by her coldness, but it was impossible for them to remain long in that condition. They were mutually suspicious of one another, which must have turned into Certainties, or they must have cleared themselves of their doubts: There happened an Adventure which made an end of confounding them.  
The Queen gave a Ball at Reims the night of Charles the Ninth's Coronation. It being the time of Masquerading, she gave the design of a Masquerade; she ordered that a Troop of Gipsy men, and another of Gipsy women, should come separately to tell the young King's good Fortune; that afterwards each man should take his Gipsy woman, and that they should dance together, as rejoicing for having hit so right in speaking pleasing things to the King.  
The Countess of Tournon, and Madmoiselle of Roye, were of the Masquerade; their height was pretty equal, their Hairs were of a brown very approaching, and their small difference could not be discerned by the light of Flambeaus, those Gipsies Dresses were ordered after a manner as made no distinction betwixt any persons that had never so little likeness; long flying Gowns did cover all their Necks, and descended to the ground, without any distinction in height; their Hairs, which were loose on their shoulders, were tied up with a world of Ribbons, and the Ladies made their Lover's partakers of those which they were to wear that Festival-day, because the Queen, who would entertain every thing in Gallantry, had desired it should be so, that those who had Mistresses might dance with them. Madmoiselle of Roye found herself uneasy in that Juncture, that coldness which was betwixt Sansac and her, gave her some repugnancy against doing him that favour; mean time it was impossible for her to afford it to another, that favour appeared to her little considerable in itself, and it produced an occasion for her to accuse him, which she would not neglect; She sent him some of her Ribbons, and writ to him with so much spite, sorrow, and tenderness, that this Letter had assuredly produced a clearing bebetwixt them, had not Madam of Tournon's Artifice prevailed.  
The Note that she had writ, having passed through the hands of that Woman that Madam of Tournon had gained; she had a sight of it, and found out some way of playing a new Trick to those two Lovers; she kept Madmoiselle of Roye's Ribbons, and sent others in the name of that young Person, they were of those that she herself was to wear. Her intention was to deceive Sansac, and to pass for Madmoiselle of Roye, under the favour of the disguise, to put that Mistress in the highest indignation against Sansac, to prevent them as much as she could, from clearing themselves, and that the mistake of the Ribbons might be thrown on the Woman that served them, should they go about to examine the matter. Mean time, she herself found the design but course, and expected no great success from it; but she had began to sow a misunderstanding amongst them, all was to be hazarded that could increase it; and their hearts being already prepossessed with Jealousy, the least appearance might add something to their general Revolt. Sansac received Madam of Tournon's Ribbons, which were sent him as from Madmoiselle of Roye, and he writ to this last with so much Love and Jealousy, that Madam of Tournon, unto whom that Letter was showed, did at the same time fear and hope of Success; she entreated that Woman, whom she had gained, to have Sansac informed, that Madmoiselle of Roye would speak to him the Masquerading night, and she had resolved to tell him under the shelter of her Mask, such things as would convince him that his Rival was beloved; the Letters which they writ to one another were intercepted, and Madmoiselle of Roye was only told, that Sansac was most obliged to her for her Ribbons; that slight which she had so little deserved from him, put her into an unconceivable Anger. She was at first surprised with that strange way of proceeding, tho' her mind had long since been disturbed by the extraordinary indifferency which he had showed her, for all things appear seemingly true to Jealousy. How often did she accuse herself of lowness of Spirit, for having made an Advance so ill received; that which had at first appeared so indifferent, did then seem most terrible to her; and her grief had prevented her from appearing at the Masquerade, if she had not had a desire to see after what manner he would govern himself there.  
The Maskers did dance, each Gipsy woman with that man who bore her Colours. Madmoiselle of Roye saw a person who wore hers, and at first she did not know him to be the Brother of Madam of Tournon, who was to dance with that Countess, but she easily observed that it was not Sansac that danced with her.  
That Marquis was not made after a manner that could be confounded with the rest, he was taller than all those that were of the Masquerade; so that she perceived him dressed with Madam of Tournon's Colours, which she could not but know, because they had dressed together, Sansac, who took her for Madam of Roye, deceived by the Ribbons, which had been sent him as from her, continued to dance with her, and she so well affected the Air and Dancing of her whom she would imitate, that the Marquis, who had no Suspicion of the Cheat, was wholly mistaken.  
Madmoiselle of Roye felt the greatest vexation that she ever had in her life; she did believe that the Countess had also sent some of her Ribbons to Sansac, to have the pleasure of seeing herself highly preferred before the other; in the disposition she was, she needed not so much to convince her, that Sansac and Madam of Tournon were in a perfect Intelligence, and the trouble of her mind did make her dance with so much disorder, that no body could imagine that it was she.  
After she had made a review of all the Persons of the Masquerade, she found that it was with the Brother of Madam of Tournon that she had danced, she did not examine whether Sansac had designed to deceive her in putting some body in his place, or whether he had only thought of shifting himself out of business; but either way she thought herself treated in so ill a manner, that the Love which she owed to herself, was almost as much offended, as was her tenderness to Sansac.  
So soon as the Masquerading was ended, she privately got towards the door, and went out, without being perceived but by Sancerre only, who had always had his Eyes upon her, and who knew her by the Ribbons which Madam of Tournon had intercepted and had showed him. He followed her out to give her his hand, and she was obliged to him for that Civility; she told him, that she should not return again, so that he conducted her home. He had too much interest not to learn what passed in her Heart as to Sansac, wherefore he fell on that Discourse, believing that in the disorder she was, it was the fittest time for him to give his Rival the last blow; he feigned with a kind of a mysterious Countenance, that he was not wholly surprised at what had happened; that was enough to engage Madmoiselle of Roye, even against her inclination, to make him divers Questions, unto which he answered after a manner which did infinitely increase her Jealousy and Sorrow; though she had entertained a thousand Suspicions, she still accused herself of having shut her own Eyes, and for having remained in too great a tranquillity at the very instant that she was betrayed. She could not be weary in continually making him new Questions, and he remained longer with her, than she would have permitted him to do, had she been less disturbed.  
After that Sansac had done dancing with Madam of Tournon, whom he had all the while taken for Madmoiselle of Roye, he led her to a Corner of the Hall to speak to her; she did not pull off her Mask, which was fastened to her Head-dress, so that he could not undeceive himself. He told her, that he was in a world of Sorrow at the hearing that Sancerre had writ to her, and dared to acquaint her with his Passion, that he found she had not ill treated him for it, that on the contrary, she beheld him with delight; and finally, that he could no longer live, if she continued to have the same regard for him. Madam of Tournon counterfeiting the accent of her Voice, told him that it was difficult for her to break with a Friend of her Mother. Ah! Madmoiselle, said he, what is it that you tell me? Why do you alarm yourself? said she with a Tone more disguised than before. Though it should be true, that Sancerre should have other Sentiments for me, than those of Esteem and Friendship, you ought not to believe that I should have any others for him. How? Madmoiselle, replied he, is it possible that you should have some Esteem and Friendship for a man who declares himself your Lover? I am lost, if you do not unsay those words again. I shall not unsay them, said Madam of Tournon, there would be injustice in what you demand. That is too much, interrupted Sansac, either deceive▪ me quite, or make an end of undeceiving me, I cannot remain in that uncertainty I am; say that you love Sancerre, that you cannot break off with him, and I shall no longer trouble you with my Jealousy and my reproaches. Madam of Tournon made him no Answer. I understand you, Madam, said Sansac transported with Fury, you shall no longer be troubled with my Complaints, but in vain must you expect any moderation in my Conduct, and so long as I have life, I will prevent my Rival from being more happy than myself. Upon that he roughly quitted her, and she made no offers of retaining him.  
Madmoiselle of Tournon was in an excessive Joy, she could never have hoped for such a Success, and all her Arts were so fortunate, that they gave her no remorses. Tho' the Masquerade was ended, the Ball did continue; Madam of Tournon, after she had changed her Apparel, returned into the Hall, where they danced; Sansac was gone in to seek after Sancerre, and to oblige him to fight, but he found him not there, and he learned that Madam of Tournon had said, that Madmoiselle of Roye was retired with a most violent Headache. Of truth, Madmoiselle of Roye had given it out so, that none should be surprised at her not appearing at the Ball. This Marquis, not finding Sancerre, did believe he might have followed her, and it was impossible for him not to seek to be satisfied in it. He went to Madmoiselle of Roye's, under the pretence of enquiring after her Health, and having learned by Sancerre's folks that he was there, he demanded to see her, with a design to make her, maugre his Promise, all the reproaches which he thought she deserved; but that Anger Madmoiselle of Roye was in, hindered her from receiving him, she sent him Word that she could not speak with him, because of her Headache, at the same time she dismissed Sancerre; but he apprehending that Sansac had seen his Servants, and fancying that peradventure his Rival would have the Curiosity to learn whether he should be long with Madmoiselle of Roye, he remained in the Antichamber on purpose with that Woman, which Madmoiselle of Tournon had gained, Madmoiselle of Roye not knowing but that he was gone, nor so much as once thinking that he would remain there.  
Sansac stayed for him in his passage, agitated with all that Fury could suggest to him of most horrid; he perceived the Count of Amboise coming, and in the trouble that he was, he could not forbear speaking to him. D'Amboise having been obliged to repair to Reims about the King's Coronation, he had heard that Madmoiselle of Roye was ill, and he had found himself still sensible enough in what concerned her, to come with earnestness to inform himself of her health. You see a man that is desperate, said Sansac so soon as he did see him, you have plunged me into that Abyss where I am, and you have drawn yourself out of it; You have yielded to me a Person, which causes all the misfortune of my life; she loves Sancerre, he is at this present with her, and she refuses seeing me. I have nothing to answer you, said Monsieur of Amboise, I forgot Madmoiselle of Roye when I yielded her to you. Upon this D'Amboise perceived the Count of Sancerre coming out the House, which made him too hastily leave Sansac, for fear his Looks should betray what he had newly said.  
Into what an odd kind of Jealousy did that Count enter? He fancied that Madmoiselle of Roye had a second time proved inconstant to him, she had been forced by her inclination to love Sansac; D'Amboise did begin to believe that she would always love that Person, whom she had from the beginning preferred to him, and that had in some manner allayed the first heat of his Sentiments; but that Change did awaken them, and kindled in him new desires, spite, and transportment. He believed that she might be inconstant, and he esteemed her the less, but he acquired new fires by it, he found himself full of earnest desires to revenge himself of that Person who went about to deprive him of a good, which he thought to be already lost, but he also fancied that there was a kind of satisfaction in revenging one's self, which did not agree with a man who had never been beloved, he was ashamed that he was concerned at the Quarrels which were betwixt Sansac and Sancerre for Madmoiselle of Roye, which made him to return into the Country that very moment.  
Sansac having informed Sancerre that his design was to fight with him, they went at some distance from that place, for fear of being prevented: they fought with an equal fierceness, and they had ended their quarrel with their lives, if that their Servants, whom they had forbid to follow them, had not disinherited their intentions, and given notice of it to some of their Friends, who came and parted them.  
Madmoiselle of Roye was some days without going out of her Chamber, under the pretence of an Headache, so that she would not see Sansac. This Marquess' Combat with Sancerre made much noise at Court, but the Subject of it was not known; Sancerre had great reason to conceal it, so long as he was not firmly established in Madmoiselle of Roye's Favour. Madam of Tournon insinuated haet self with Sansac on that account, and engaged him to Secrecy, saying, that he ought to have some regards for a Person whom he had loved so long, but in truth it was to prevent Madmoiselle of Roye from diving too deep into the business, had she known what share she had in it. Sansac did follow that Countesse's Advices, though his Anger against Madmoiselle of Roye was not diminished. He in vain did endeavour to suppress his Passion; he hated Madmoiselle of Roye, yet he incessantly thought on her. It is by forgetting that Love is cured.  
Madmoiselle of Roye having inquired of Sancerre the cause of his Combat with Sansac, he told her that the Marquis had quarrelled with him on a very slight pretence, but that the true cause of his Quarrel was his meeting him too often to his mind at Madam of Tournon's, for whose Person he could not be persuaded that one could entertain so little as a single Friendship. Madmoiselle of Roye swallowed down that Poison without resistance, nothing now could defend Sansac in her heart against those surprising News, and she was easily brought to believe any thing of him on Madam of Tournon's account, which gave a great deal of hopes to his Rival.  
Madam of Tournon, still continued to express the same Friendship to Madmoiselle of Roye, as formerly, but it was received with a great deal of coldness. Those two Rivals would no longer mention the Marquis of Sansac in their Discourses, and it was but the affecting of not pronouncing his Name, which was a trouble to them.  
The Count of Sansac, Father to the Marquis, was Governor of Touraine; he was sick at Tours, and in that Age which no longer will afford any hopes of Cure. The Reversion of his Government was at that time conferred upon his Son, through Madam of Tournon's means; he, knowing not that she was the cause of all the troubles in his Amours, was willing to acknowledge that obligation to her, but he was obliged to be absent, he told her the necessity that he had of flying from Madmoiselle of Roye, and the Countess did not oppose his design of going to Tours. Absence was the means to prevent him from clearing any Points with Madmoiselle of Roye, and of curing himself of his Passion towards her.  
This Marquis went suddenly from Reims, and some few days after the Court returned to Paris. Madam of Tournon took great care to have Madmoiselle of Roye informed of the great share which she had had in Sansac's late Preferment, of truth he wanted a Person that had a great interest in the Queen, to engage her to show any Favour to that Family.  
Madmoiselle of Roye was returned into her Mother's hands, unto whom she learned that Madmoiselle of Tournon was her Rival, and that she had betrayed her. Madam of Roye was something troubled at Sansac's Change; the Engagement in which divers Persons knew that he was with Madmoiselle of Roye, had put by a great number of Pretenders, and his infidelity could not but do her some prejudice. Madmoiselle of Roye did sensibly feel the Affront, and could not consolate herself for not having loved Amboise, who had so real a Passion for her, and whose great Qualities and Constancy ought to have diverted her from that inclination which she had for Sansac.  
The Count of Sancerre, who still was with her under the notion of a Friend, did think it a favourable season to declare his Passion, though not fit to make any advantage of his long concealment of it; but he resisted the desire of making it a merit. He feared bringing on himself that Anger which she had against Sansac, if he should let her know that he had all along been his Rival, and of making her to suspect those things which he had said of him; so that he feigned the beginning of a Passion, which the opportunity of daily seeing a beautiful Person that had no Engagement, had produced.  
Madmoiselle of Roye had found herself too much disobliged by Love to admit it a second time; and if her Heart could ever be moved with it again, it could not be but an acknowledgement on Monsieur of Amboise's account; she answered Sancerre with that indifferency, which a Lover thinks more unsufferable than Anger itself. And from that very moment he did dread all the ill that he might expect from it; however being not quite dashed out of countenance, he spoke to her more than once.  
Her Love was tired with constraining itself; he importuned, if he could not please; so that Madmoiselle of Roye was obliged to let him know, that if he continued his Discourses, she should never see him more. She told it him with such a calmness of mind, that he doubted not but that she would make good her Threatening, and he was so vexed at it, that he would see her no more.  
In vain did the Count of Amboise seek in the Country for a quiet, which he had failed of the first time, a new reason of curing himself did but increase his pain: The Count of Sancerre, Madmoiselle of Roye, and Sansac, did incessantly present themselves to his imagination, and tormented him. He returned to Paris, drawn thither by his unquietness, and without knowing to what purpose; he did not presently go to Madam of Roye's, and he was absolutely resolved to avoid seeing of her Daughter; mean time having inquired what she did, he learned that Sancerre had desisted seeing of her, and he was told at the same time, that it was because that Count was fallen in Love with her; that his Passion had been a trouble to her; and that in fine, she had in a manner banished him. As things indifferent are seldom concealed, Madmoiselle of Roye had confessed the truth of that business to some of her Friends, who had inquired after the Reasons that Sancerre did see her no more; and D'Amboise, who sought after the knowledge of those things, could not fail of being informed; by that means he lost all Suspicion as to the Count of Sancerre, by whom he had been more alarmed, than really made jealous; he believed that Madmoiselle of Roye had only designed to fret Sansac, but not to betray him, when she refused to see him after the Masquerading at Reims, and when she had received Sancerre, that it might only be the consequences of a Love-quarrel, which he might not have heard of, and it was but too easy to him to turn all his Anger upon Sansac; but he soon learned also, that that Marquis was fallen in Love with Madam of Tournon, and that News did produce in him divers agitations, in which he went no further at first than to know what Madmoiselle of Roye's thoughts were on that Subject; after which he returned to her House with much earnestness.  
Madam of Roye received him with her usual Civilities, and Madmoiselle of Roye appeared melancholic, but civil and full of regards; there being some Persons in the Chamber, he could not enter into any particular Conversation with her that day, but however she observed that he loved her still; she made some reflections on his proceedings, and on those of Sansac; she opposed the Constancy of the one to the Inconstancy of the other; and though such advantageous thoughts in the behalf of D'Amboise, did not yet carry along with them Madmoiselle of Roye's Heart, it was much however that she allowed him so entire a preference in her mind.  
The first time that he saw her alone, he would have spoken of Sansac; but she presently avoided the Discourse by a secret confusion, which she was in at her being abandoned by a man whom she had preferred before him; mean time he let her understand, that he was not ignorant of what was said of Sansac's Change, and it was after a manner, that in some degree did qualify Madmoiselle of Roye's disorder: She sufficiently esteemed this Count to oblige her to be sincere with him. Take the pleasure of revenging yourself of me, said she, I ought to let you enjoy that Triumph; Well, it is true, I know that Sansac does leave me for Madam of Tournon. Is it possible, Madmoiselle, said he, can that be? Though it has been told me, though you confirm it, I too much know the impossibility of ceasing from loving you, to be brought to believe it. There is nothing more true, said she; but what is therein that is incredible? There are nothing but Examples of Inconstancy seen. Madmoiselle, said he to her, do you see none other? Do you not know a Lover despised, hated, and still constant? I know him not despised, nor hated, said she again, with an Air that he had not yet seen, I begin to make a difference betwixt him and all other men; I was designed it may be to do him justice one day, and that day may be come. Alas! Madmoiselle, deceive not yourself in it, this day is still one of those which you give to Sansac; and he would be the more happy for it, if he could be sensible of his Happiness; though you would make me useful in your revenge, it would be without any favourable thoughts for me; Sansac is very dear to you, seeing that his Crime does engage you to say some flattering things to his Rival. Thus did the Count of Amboise give Madmoiselle of Roye to understand, that she had less design to make him sensible of her acknowledgement, than of causing some further displeasure of Sansac: Yet Hope was creeping again into the Count's Heart; it was a great Point got, not to have any longer to fear any tenderness towards a Rival, and to have none to combat but that of Madmoiselle of Roye, which she herself did oppose.  
Madam of Tournon did still continue a Commerce of Letters with that Marquis, she had got insensibly so far, as to make him apprehend, that she would willingly have afforded him some comfort for Madmoiselle of Roye's infidelity, he had seized on that opportunity to endeavour to forget her, the desire which he had so to do, did sometimes make him hope that he should succeed in it, and give a certain lively Air to his Letters, at which Madam of Tournon was very well pleased. Mean time he did much less mind to persuade her that he loved her, than to convince Madmoiselle of Roye of it, which he durst not yet see.  
The Count of Sansac, his Father's sickness, was a reason that might detain him at Tours; he did write to his Friends, that he was in Love with that Countess, and they no longer did mention Madmoiselle of Roye to him, because he had desired them to forbear, without giving any reason for it. During the time that Sancerre was still numbered amongst Madmoiselle of Roye's Friends; Madam of Tournon had writ to him, that they were in a perfect Intelligence, and since that time no body had informed him to the contrary. This Countess, which frequently received Letters from Sansac, because she writ to him every day, did cause the most passionate of them to be shown to Madmoiselle of Roye, as if they had been surprised.  
Madmoiselle of Roye did enter into an unconceivable Anger at them, and Sansac's inconstancy did work more advantageously for Monsieur of Amboise, than all that Lover's Services could do. The Count of Sansac died about that time, and his Death did set his Son at liberty of finishing his Marriage with Madmoiselle of Roye; but he took no advantage of it, Madam of Tournon, who no longer could perceive any other obstacle to it, than those which she produced, redoubled her Artifices; she caused to be spread abroad, that she should marry that Marquis so soon as he should return to Paris, where he was suddenly to be, to receive the King's Orders. Madam of Tournon's Design was to engage before that time Madmoiselle of Roye to fix on some other Person. Madam of Roye could not bear the Affront which was offered her Daughter, she told her that it concerned their Honour to prevent Sansac's Designs; Madmoiselle of Roye was the most irritated, and sought after nothing but Revenge. The Mareshal of Cosse, at that juncture of time, did cause some Propositions of Marriage to be made to her; but the disproportion of their Age did oblige Madam of Roye to be in a Suspense, notwithstanding the great Advantages which she might expect from that Establishment. The Count of Amboise did still entertain the same Passion for Madmoiselle of Roye which he ever had, tho' he had more than once given over that pursuit. But those Reasons which had obliged him so to do, were no longer existent, nothing was more proper for that beautiful Creature, than a Person who had always loved her most tenderly, and whom she esteemed above all other men. Madam of Roye did ask that Count's Advice, as of a Friend, on the Mareshal of Cosse, at which he was seized with such a Trembling, as hindered him from answering. I perceive with a Surprise, said she to him, that whatsoever concerns my Daughter, is not yet become indifferent to you, mean time all that you have done already, did give me occasion to believe that you might see her without trouble to marry another; You know that I had designed her for you, and that I had preferred you to all other men, if you would have taken advantage from thence. I have nothing to answer you, Madam, said he, you cannot be ignorant of the dispositions in which I shall persist all my life-time for Madmoiselle of Roye; I know not whether there are; less obstacles against me in her Heart, but I flatter myself with it, and there needed not so much to render my Passion extraordinary: If you had any thoughts that way, permit me to consult Madmoiselle of Roye on that subject for the last time. Well, pray do so, said the Countess, I have the same Consideration for you that I ever had.  
That Conjuncture was something nice for the Count of Amboise to act in, he had twice already engaged himself with Madmoiselle of Roye, a third time ought to make him tremble, but the Mareshal of Cosse's concurrence did but him on marrying Madmoiselle of Roye, to take her from him; he went and cast himself at that fair Creature's feet. Madmoiselle, said he, you behold the most amorous of all men, you know that all your rigours have not hindered me from being so, and what have not your Civilities done? Notwithstanding that I ought to think you would never love me, and yet they have given me some hopes, or at least they have stood me in place 〈◊〉 some good Omen, so long as you have been your own; but you can no longer avoid being some bodies, and fear that you tremble at it. It is no Engagement that shall make my fear, said Madmoiselle of Roye, it can be only those Persons with whom I should be obliged to engage myself. How! Madam, said he, are you in a Condition of making any differences? I fear lest some vexatious remembrance should render the Choice of an Husband disagreeable to you, or at least indifferent; all will be equal to you. But added he, Why should I press you to declare yourself? Your Bounties give me not boldness enough to make me believe, that if you were capable of distinctions, they might be in favour of me; You have too much accustomed me to be unhappy, to let me gather any hopes.  
You offend me, said she, by those remembrances which you would bring into my mind, yet I am willing to answer you precisely on the rest; You have merited enough to invite me to speak my thoughts plainly to you; and seeing that I cannot dispense myself from entering into some tie, I should be sorry if it were not with you. What a word was that for Monsieur of Amboise? Could he make any Reflections contrary to his Happiness? He entreated Madmoiselle of Roye to prefer him to the Mareshal of Cosse; and she having a great tendency to it, her Marriage was a third time resolved upon. It than seemed to that Lover, that he had nothing more to fear, and that he was above all his misfortunes: No more Rivals: No more Obstacles. He was going to be united for ever unto a Person whom he had long loved, and by whom at last he believed to be beloved. His misfortune had lasted so long, that he would no longer retard his Happiness; he entreated Madam of Roye not to let the Ceremonies of the Nuptials be any longer deferred. Madmoiselle of Roye, who through Esteem for Monsieur of Amboise, and through a secret spite against Sansac, was resolved upon that Marriage, made no difficulty to consent that it should suddenly be ended, which was done two days after.  
When it was concluded on, Sansac's Friends had writ to him of it, not as a thing which concerned him, but as News. What a Clap of Thunder was this for him? And what Sentiments did rekindle in his Heart? He felt that Spite, Time, and Absence had done no more but lulled them asleep a little, and that it had not weakened them in the least. He did not conceive that she could ever have loved Sancerre, and so soon marry D'Amboise, and that Reflection did sensibly lead him to doubt, whether she had ever loved the first of them; mean time he believed that she had in a manner offered it to him by her silence, he had seen Sancerre go out of her House, when the entering into it had been refused him; and though all these Circumstances, being recalled into his memory, did cause him to shiver, he told himself that they were no Certainties, that peradventure something that he was ignorant of, had given place to those Irregularities, he again did afford an Esteem for Madmoiselle of Roye in his thoughts as oft as he feared to lose her; all that which could justify her came into his mind, as formerly all that could render her guilty had presented itself there; that oddness of her marrying of Amboise, at that time that she should have married Sancerre, if she had loved him, did put him out of all measures, and made him to believe every thing possible, even not to have been betrayed. He already accused himself, for having peradventure given too soon some Jealousy to Madmoiselle of Roye of Madam of Tournon Amboise, who he had always thought so far from being beloved by Madmoiselle of Roye, did not appear to him capable of having made himself Master with so much haste of an Heart which had always been refused him; at other times he fancied, that the same Inconstancy which had led her to love Sancerre, might also lead her to love Amboise; but that Idea appeared so cruel to him, that he would presently cast it off: In fine, he could unravel nothing, only he found that he could not suffer that any one should be made happy by marrying of Madmoiselle of Roye. He did not think that her Marriage should be preformed with so much precipitation, and he still hoped to put some stops to it; mean time he could not return to Paris, as he desired to do, because that the Huguenots, with whom a Treaty of Peace had been concluded, yet without effect, had made themselves Masters of divers Cities, and had Troops also not far from Tours, so that it was not possible for him to leave his Government; but he would not defer to let Madmoiselle of Roye know the condition in which her Marriage was going to reduce him, though he was ignorant of the Dispositions in which she was for him. He went to Madmoiselle of Sansac, his Sister, who was but two Leagues from thence; he told her of that Marriage, which he knew would concern her as much as him, he did conjure her to go immediately thither, to give a Letter to Madmoiselle of Roye, which he had writ, and to use all the means that could prevent her from marrying the Count of Amboise.  
Madmoiselle of Sansac's Passion was of those that nothing can cure, she was seized with Wonder and with Sorrow; and though she did endeavour to conceal those motions, she assured her Brother, that he might rely upon her as to the care of the business, which she would bring about, if any could do it, and that she would omit nothing that could do him Service. Upon this Assurance he returned to Tour's, and she thought of nothing but keeping her Word with him.  
She was not long about choosing the quickest way, and that which seemed to her the most sure; she thought that it would be in vain to have Madmoiselle of Roye persuaded of Sansac's tenderness, and that though she should again take up her first Sentiments for him, they would be useless, because that her timidity would always prevail over her inclination, and that it would be more easy to cast into Amboise's mind some Scruples, which should oblige him to take that Party, which he had done already more than once, than to use any other means to break off that Marriage; that after all, it would be no ill Fortune to him not to marry a Person, which had been so long preposiest in the behalf of Sansac; that there was not scarce any occasion to doubt but that her tenderness for him would awaken again, when she should once see him return to her again.  
Madmoiselle of Sansac writ to Monsieur of Amboise, and she also sent him the Letter, which Sansac had writ to Madmoiselle of Roye; she disguised her own Hand, that it might not be known: those Letters came from her, and she followed them some moments after, to learn what effects they might have produced. D'Amboise received them the day after his Marriage, and when he thought that his Happiness should never be troubled more, he opened that from Madmoiselle of Sansac, the Character of which he knew not, and which was conceived in the following words.  
LETTER.  
I Am not ignorant of your Nicety in your marrying of Madmoiselle of Roye, you believe yourself Master of her Heart; I give you a means to assure yourself whether you are or not, here is a Letter which Sansac writes to her: since he loves her still, he may also be beloved by her, consult her on that Letter; if she receives it with indifferency, you will have the more quiet in your Marriage; and if you perceive that her Passion is not yet extinct, you may avoid an Engagement, which can never be happy for you.  
After this he read that of Sansac, whose Writing he knew, in which he found these words:  
To Madmoiselle of Roye.  
I Am informed that you are going to marry Monsieur of Amboise, and that News-makes so deep an impression on me, that I cannot forbear writing to you, though I have so much cause of complaining against you, I am not in a condition of making you any reproaches; I love you, and I lose you, I am to justify myself, and to crave your pardon; I have feigned loving Madam of Tournon, with a design either to cure, or rather revenge myself, but I have done nothing all that while, but keep up my Passion by that hope. Peradventure also that my Conduct has displeased you. May be it has hastened that resolution which you take. Alas! I flatter myself, I should be still too happy in having a share in the reasons of your Marriage, as fatal as it is to me. No, you love Amboise, as you have loved another. I ask your pardon, if I offend you; though I desire to offend you: Cause that reproach to cease, if it is too sensible to you; cause that inclination to revive again with which you once did flatter me, and which you said was to last for ever. What? convey it to D'Amboise, after your Heart had distinguished me from him in so obliging a manner; I oppose myself to your Marriage, by the right which your first Sentiments have given me over you, and if there remains yet any thing of them, I love you enough to pretend to recall them all back again. You formerly believed that we were born for one another; Why part we while I love you still? Ah! leave the thoughts of entering in a new Engagement, if not, fear the fury of a Lover who will lose all, rather than lose a good which he has merited both by his tenderness and yours.  
What an effect did the reading of those Letters produce in Monsieur of Amboise's Heart? He found himself constrained to doubt whether he was beloved at the time that he possessed that Person which he loved. What an horror did present itself to his imaginations? He remained suppressed with that Idea, and his Marriage became the most grievous of all his evils. So long as he had been but a Lover, the entire assurance of not being beloved, had appeared less cruel to him, than that certainty to which he saw himself reduced; if he had never loved so passionately, neither had be been so sensibly touched with Jealousy, to attain to the very last degree of ones Wishes, and to behold all one's Happiness cast down through unsufferable Conceptions, through such Doubts as could not be clear, not incapable of abandoning, nor of hating the Countess of Amboise, nor to love her neither, was the condition he found himself in, and unto which there was no Remedy.  
The Countess of Amboise took notice of his coldness, and of his trouble; she asked him the cause of it after a manner that ought to have settled him; but her kindnesses were suspicious, or rather he thought that he enjoyed them but by Surprise; he was divers times on the point of showing her the Letter from Sansac, that he might no longer doubt the evil which he feared, and to establish on that, if it were possible, a most sorrowful quiet; but he as often stopped his hand, and he felt that he had still the certainty of it to fear: He answered the Countess in such terms as did not satisfy her, and which put her into extraordinary disturbances.  
When Madmoiselle of Sansac came to Paris, she learned that Monsieur d'Amboise was married to Madmoiselle of Roye; She feared all the disorder that the Letters which she had sent might have done, and the vexations at her imprudence, joined to those which she had at that Marriage, made her that very day take the resolution of going into a Monastery, to avoid reproaches from her Brother, and to have the power of overcoming a Passion, which had seized her Heart: She writ to the Marquis of Sansac before she went into it, and informed him, that Madmoiselle of Roye was married; She also confessed, that in a design to serve him, and not knowing that the Count of Amboise was already beyond the condition of making use of these Advices, which were given him, she had sent to him that Letter which he had writ to Madmoiselle of Roye, with a Note in an unknown Character, which might have brought him once again to have broken that Marriage: Finally, she prayed that Marquis to leave her at quiet, and never more to mention that fault to her, which she was going to expiate all her life time.  
Sansac received not that Letter at Tours, because that the Prince of Conde's Troops, who had had a design to surprise that City, and that had been prevented by the Governors' vigilance, were got into Orleans, and gave him the opportunity to return to Paris. He learned so soon as he was got thither, that Madmoiselle of Roye was married, and he was as surprised as sorrowful at it; though he had feared that Marriage, he could not persuade himself that it could be done; and his Reflections on it had but softened his Heart the more, and rendered it more capable of feeling his loss; far from preparing it to bear his misfortune, he abandoned himself to all that Despair has of most horrid: But he was not long in that trouble, Amboise was decreed to die with grief in the midst of his Happiness, and it was soon spread abroad in what danger that Count was. Monsieur of Amboise could not bear the divers agitations of his mind, a Fever did seize him with such an extraordinary violence, that from the very first day his Life was in danger: The Countess of Amboise was incessantly by him, bathed with tears; the affliction which she showed him, and the Cares which she took for his preservation, did sensibly move him, but this put him in Despair when he thought that he durst not take them for Tokens of Love; yet he could not but be sensible of them. He perceived that Madam of Amboise was worthy of an infinite Esteem, and that if he could not reach her Heart, he was to die without complaining of her, he felt that he had but few days to live, and he resolved not to mention to her those Letters, which caused his Death, for fear of showing some Jealousy, and of taking from her by that means the liberty of following her own inclination, when he should be no more. That strain of Generosity did cost him dear, his Sentiments were not sufficiently weakened, not to oppose himself to a resolution which was so contrary to them; and his Deliriums did sometimes discover that which he would have concealed.  
Madam of Amboise, who by all means imaginable did endeavour to find out the Cause of his affliction and of his sickness, perceived at last that a Jealousy did torment him; the Love and Esteem which she had for her Husband, and that which she had for herself, would not permit her to let him live or die, with such disadvantageous thoughts of her; She more than once did cast herself at his feet, telling him, that the slight which he had showed her in depriving her of his Confidence, was unsufferable. Madam, said he to her, what do you seek to know? Believe that that tenderness which I have for you, is the Cause of that Secret you seek after. You cannot understand me, added he sighing, and I lose all the satisfaction which I should have in deserving from you by this last Sacrifice, but it is to leave you more at rest and quiet.  
Those words did still increase Madam of Amboise's Curiosity, and caused her to redouble her entreaties, insomuch that at the last the Death of that Count being no longer uncertain, and the Physicians having declared it to his Wife, the extraordinary Sorrow which she showed him all the time, and the manner after which she pressed him, had the power to tear out of his Bosom, what he had concealed there till then. It is believed that your Sickness increases, said she, embracing of him, doubtless your disquiet of mind contributes to it. I mention not mine to you, you have discovered to me, against your mind, part of that which you had a mind to conceal from me; I know you have unjust thoughts of me, you will not give me place of justifying myself, and you neglect being satisfied of a Person that you no longer love; I have, with the fear of losing you, the assurance of having already lost your Friendship and Love: but I have already told you, I go not about to move you by my Sorrow. I have no other concern in it but your own, complain of me to give yourself ease, and express your thoughts to put yourself more at quiet. Perhaps that you may not find me guilty, if you cause me to speak. Well, Madam, said the Count of Amboise, seeing that my rave have begun to betray me, and have troubled you, I must inform you of all, and repair those evils that they have done. Read these Letters, said he, presenting her those that he had received, this is it that causes my grief, I could not live, and doubt whether I was beloved by you or no; I die to leave you to another, that will never love you as I do, but with whom you will be more happy, because that you will love him more.  
Madam of Amboise did tremble at the imprudence or malice of those who had sent the Letter of Advice to her Husband; she did not guests at them, and she was so taken up to see him die for her, that even at that moment the Letter from Sansac made not the least impression on her mind; Monsieur of Amboise, who was employed contrary to his Design, in examining the motions of her Face, did not perceive her to change colour; Well, Sir, said she, you have thoughts that I could not receive a Letter from Sansac, without entertaining again such Sentiments as would be displeasing to you; I wish it had been given me, I had put it into your hands, as I do at this present: Ah! if this be true, Madam, said he with a Transport, which shortened his days, must I die? What? You can have forgotten Sansac, said he, with Eyes in which Love was not yet extinct? I am ashamed, said she, that I must give you new assurances of it, but I shall be satisfied, if they do but put you out of that condition you are in. No, Madam, said he to her, I die with as much satisfaction as regret: but when all is done, your first Sentiments have been for Sansac, I am neither unjust nor tyrannical, it is much for me to have extinguished them one moment during my life, they will rekindle after my death; I murmur not at it, oppose not my memory to them, you knew that so long as I could, I have preferred your happiness to mine, and I see with some kind of Joy, that you will be perfectly happy, without making me unhappy. No sooner had he ended those words but he swooned; The Countess of Amboise was led out of the Chamber, notwithstanding her Tears and her Outcries. Madam of Roye, who was not much less afflicted at the condition the Count was in, did however endeavour to comfort her, as much as she could possible.  
Monsieur of Amboise came out of his Swoon, he ordered that his Wife should be desired not to come into his Chamber any more, that she might spare herself the trouble which the sight of him would cause her, and because that the sight of her did make him leave this life with too much unwillingness; he died the next day.  
Madam of Roye did lead the Countess of Amboise into a Monastery, where she stayed a fortnight, and after that they went into the Country. That Widow's affliction did not grow moderate, she thought that she should never consolate herself for the Death of her Husband; She knew the full value of that Affection which he had had for her, and how much his Heart and his Merits were above that of other men; She was even in an admiration of him, and she was far from distrusting that she should ever have any Sentiments of Love for any Body; She even thought that she had never had any so sensible as for him; She did avoid thinking on Sansac's Letter; She thought she did it through indifferency, but she did incessantly think on the Generosity which her Husband had had of consenting at his Death, that she should marry him, though she had no design of taking any advantage of it.  
Sansac had taken up new Hopes by the Death of Monsieur of Amboise, but he understood that it would be long before he durst see the Widow, and he returned to Tours, when she went into the Country, where she remained three months, without receiving any Visit; mean time her businesses obliged her to return to Paris, and he returned also at the same time so soon as he heard of it, though he durst not go to her House, he did seek after all solitary Walks with a design to find her there. He was not long without receiving that satisfaction, and without causing himself to be observed. The Countess of Amboise found herself disturbed the first time that she saw him. She thought that the presence of a man that had offended her, might be the cause of that trouble, she being then with a Lady of her Relations to whom she would not give any notice of having observed Sansac, she was obliged to go on her way. Sansac did follow her still; and in fine. she went off so soon as she could possible.  
When she was returned home, she went into her Closet, where she could not forbear reading that Letter of the Marquess', which Monsieur of Amboise had given her, and which she had kept; she found it full of Passion, and she read it over again, after which she was seized with profound thoughts, in which she could not distinguish her own Conceptions.  
Some days after, Monsieur of Sansac having gained some of her people, to discover in what place she would go walk, he was there before her, because she came but late; and when he met her, he saluted her after a manner that was full of Sorrow and of Respect, which gave her a greater disturbance than the first time had done, she was got out of the Coach to take the Air; but so soon as she had saluted the Marquis, she hastily got into it again: mean time she had not gone far, but her Coach broke; it was late, she was a pretty way from Paris, and she found herself in a great disorder.  
Monsieur of Sansac, who saw at distance the disorder which had happened to her Equipage, drew near; and not daring to speak to Madam of Amboise, he entreated one of those Women that accompanied the Countess, to offer her, as from him, his Coach to carry her back. Madam of Amboise could not dispense herself from answering that Civility, she returned him thanks, and told him, that some of her people were going for some body to mend her Coach, and sent immediately about it: He told her, that he was very unhappy to be refused in such an occasion, where it was almost impossible not to accept of that which he proposed; That Madam of Amboise's Coach could not be in a condition to go before night were far advanced; That he would wait the return of those which she sent, and that perhaps necessity would overcome that repugnancy which she had of doing him that Favour. Madam of Amboise did endeavour to answer him without rudeness, but also without promising to make use of his assistance; they insensibly got into a Conversation, Monsieur of Sansac found out the Art of making it last, in saying things to Madam of Amboise which caused her to give him some Answers. Those persons that had been sent for to mend the Coach, came and said, it was impossible to bring it back to Paris that day.  
Madam of Amboise was in a strange confusion, night was begun, Sansac offered to give her his Coach, and to stay there till it were returned; there had been some rudeness to leave him there alone: mean time she had a great task to resolve herself to go in the same Coach with a man that had loved her, and whom she feared was not yet quite indifferent to her. At last necessity obliged her to entreat him to bring her to the first Houses, while she should send for a Coach to Paris. Those Houses being at a great distance, she could not with decency leave him in the fields, and he found too much pleasure in accompanying Madam of Amboise, to avoid it one moment, so that he carried her with two of her Women into the next Town. What Charms for him to find himself with her! He durst not tell her but indifferent things, but he spoke to her, did see her, and did hope that that Rencontre would not be without some Consequences; the very Air of Mystery which did happen accidentally in this Adventure, did afford him a great deal of delight.  
The same Reasons that created that Lover's Joy, did alarm Madmoiselle Amboise's Severity, she was so agitated with different thoughts, that she said nothing but in disorder. The Marquis, who perceived it, did not draw any ill Omen from it, neither durst he ask her the permission of seeing her any longer, after he had set her where she desired to be, but he hovered about that place, till she was gone from thence.  
The next day he writ to her to ask an hours Audience before he went to Chartres, where the King was sending him with a Reinforcement of four thousand men, who were got into the City, which the Huguenots had besieged.  
That Countess was puzzled about the Conduct that she should observe in that occasion; she had been busied all the night with the thoughts of the Rencontre which she had made, Sansac had appeared more amorous than ever, but she durst not find him as lovely; mean time he was almost justified in her mind, in regard of Madam of Tournon, by his Letter, which she had read divers times over. Monsieur of Amboise far from fearing that she should marry him, had in some manner enjoined her to it at his death, yet she thought that that was not sufficient to invite her to marry him; but that she might see him without scruple, she was to speak to him, and to learn who it was had sent to Monsieur of Amboise those Letters which had caused so much disorder. In fine, she was to inform Sansac of the resolution that she had taken of remaining a Widow; in those thoughts she let him know that he might see her.  
With what Joy did he go to her House, and found himself at liberty to speak to her of his Passion; he thought that her Beauty was yet increased, her Mourning and the Emotion which appeared on her Face, did add a thousand Charms. He cast himself at her Feet, without pronouncing one single word, and even without thinking what he did.  
Madam of Amboise did oblige him to rise, with such a serious Look, as did kill him with fear, he took a seat as she had ordered him to do, and he was a long time without daring to life up his Eyes towards her; that Respect did move her more than the Transport of his Love had done.  
I have had the boldness, Madam, said he scarce looking on her, to ask to see you, but I am sufficiently punished for it, and your Air denounces me those Evils, which I had avoided to prevent. Madam of Amboise made him no Answer. You say nothing to me, Madam? added he, speak, reduce me to despair, those harsh things that you will say to me, will be less cruel than your silence. I shall speak to you, answered she, I had not let you come, if I had not had a great deal to say, and I am only troubled where to begin. I believe that I ought not to rejoice, Madam, said he, at what you have to say to me; it is easy for me to foresee, that it will not prove advantageous to me, and you take off much of the Favour you do me, which had been too great, had you had nothing to do but to hear me. I shall not make any difficulty to confess to you, said she, that I have seen that Letter you writ to me on the account of my Marriage, and which was sent to Monsieur of Amboise, I must know of you to whom you had given it, and how so ill and unfortunate a business for me, through the death of Monsieur of Amboise, was carried.  
Sansac related to her, that it being impossible for him to return to Paris, because there was some fear of an Attempt by the Huguenots upon Tours; he had trusted his Sister with the Letter, who promised to put it into her own hands; that Madmoiselle of Sansac being as ignorant as he was, that they were already married, thought that the best way was to prevent it, by sending those Letters to Monsieur of Amboise: But, Madam, added he, I find that their ill success is imputed to me, and that though my Letter had been seen but to yourself, I ought not to have expected any thing but your anger from it. No doubt of that, said she, seeing that I was Monsieur of Amboise's Wife; but I had reason to believe that Madam of Tournon would have comforted you of my Marriage, or at least that it had not afflicted you so much. Madam of Tournon, cried he, Is it possible, Madam, that you can think she could consolate me one moment for your loss? Madam of Amboise could not forbear speaking to him of the deference which he had given to that Countess the Masquerading day; but he did protest to her with so much integrity and ingenuity, that he thought he had danced with her, and of the Conversation which he also thought he had had with her, on the account of Sancerre, confounding them both for a while; at last they unravelled it, and found that Madam of Tournon had played them both. Truth did manifest itself to them, while they discoursed it; they found that they were both innocent; a pleasing Joy which they had not felt of a long time, took again possession of their Hearts.  
When they had no more Complaints to make, they looked on one another a while. But, Madam, replied the Marquis of Sansac, what avails it to me, that you have not loved Sancerre, if I am grown indifferent to you? You ought, at least, to be so to me, replied Madam of Amboise; I have married an Husband, the most worthy to be beloved that ever was, this last words deserved that I should ever be prepossessed by him. I was resolved to make it a Secret to you, but I find myself engaged to tell it you, to mark to you the better the obligation I have to love him ever. She gave him an account of the Conversation that Monsieur of Amboise had had with her on that subject, softening a little those Terms which might flatter him too much, yet that Lover remained charmed with that confidence that she had showed him. Ah! Madam, said he, casting himself once more at her feet, perform the last Will of Monsieur of Amboise; I have merited to succeed him, seeing that I am chosen by him so to do, your indifferency only can render me unworthy of it. But, added he, why should I be indifferent to you? I have not ceased one moment from being the most amorous of all men; I am authorised to tell you so much, and you ought to make no scruples, but of not loving me. I perceive that I have told you too much, said she blushing, and obliging him to rise with more mildness than the first time, it is no longer time to dissemble with you, added she, know that my inclination is not quite extinct. That ●ad I but sooner learned your innocence. I had not been Monsieur of Amboise's Prize, he had not died, and nothing had prevented me from being yours; but since I have married him, I owe him one Sacrifice for all those that he has made me, for this reason I have framed the design of remaining a Widow; and should I have so much weakness as not to perform it, I should not be happy in marrying you: What friendship soever I should have for you, my reflections would prevent me from the enjoyment of yours, and peradventure would deprive me of mine also at last. Ah! Madam, said he, with a Despair in his Soul, I find you have never loved me. I wish it were true, said she to him sighing. 'Las! Madam, answered he, if it is so, why tell you me such cruel things? and why would you have me to renounce you? I cannot do it, it is easier for me to die▪ What, said she, you cannot make an effort to leave me to myself, as Monsieur of Amboise has done to leave me to you. No▪ Madam, said he, propose to me no Examples, I have too much Love, only to think of losing you; and if you deprive me of hope those dangers in which I am going to engage, and where I shall not manage myself will deliver you from a Lover who is to passionate to overcome his Sentiments, or to conceal them. Answer me once more, Madam, my life and death are in your hands. What do you tell me, said Madam of Amboise, with Eyes swelled with Tears, Why will you have me to determinate? at least leave me unresolved, seeing you have already shaken my resolution. Sansac would have engaged her to have given him her positive Word to marry him, but she fixed to what she had said. He was obliged to take leave of her, and he went to Chartres with the four thousand men which he was to conduct there.  
When he was gone, Madam of Amboise did perceive how far she had gone already; that the Suspicions which Sansac had dispersed, were become in some manner meritorious towards her, and that she had found a great occasion of praising him, in having not had as great an occasion of complaining of him; she thought that she had gainsaid herself too easily and too soon; and that when he should make any reflections on that Conduct, he would have less esteem for her than Love; that thought did vex her, she told her self, that such an Husband as she had had, did merit a Wife with high Sentiments, and steadfastness; that in fine, the pleasure of thinking on him, and of being contented with herself, ought for ever to possess her.  
But soon after she made other guess Reflections, Monsieur of Sansac was killed before Charters, in sallying forth on the Huguenots; and she had so cruel a Sorrow for it, that she guessed it had been impossible for her to have merited long his esteem at the cost of that tenderness which she had for him; she returned into the Country, where she passed the rest of her days, filled with those divers afflictions, and without daring ever to unravel them, for fear of knowing which was strongest.  
FINIS.