THE HAPPY SLAVE, A NOVEL. In three Parts Complete.  
Translated from the French.  
By a Person of Quality.  
LONDON, Printed for Gilbert Cownly, at the Pope's Head in the Lower-walk of the New-Exchange in the Strand. 1686.   

To the Right Honourable, THOMAS Earl of OSSORY, Baron of MOOR PARK, One of the Lords of His Majesty's Most Honourable Privy Council, Knight of the Noble Order of the Garter, etc.  
My Lord,  
NOthing was wanting to complete the Happiness of this Fortunate Slave, but to fall into the hands of so Generous a Patron as your Lordship. And I who had undertaken to furnish him, was willing to find him one so qualified, that he might have reason to be well pleased with my Choice. To whom then could I with more Reason Address myself for making this Present, than to a Lord, who by Excellent Qualities, as well as Eminent Birth, every day gains Slaves and Creatures to himself. To satisfy any of the truth of what I say, they need not make a particular enquiry, or hearken after the Public Attestations of this Kingdom. The Fame of your Glory extends beyond England; there is not in Europe a Court, where it hath not arrived, to gain you the Heart and Admiration of the best. But, my Lord, to know your Merit more perfectly, we need only consider the particular esteem always had for you by the greatest and most discerning Monarch in the World; the choice he hath made of your Person for the greatest Employments of War, and the most important Negotiations of Peace; the weight and stress he lays on your Advice, and the confidence wherewith he relies on the clearness of your Judgement, and greatness of your Capacity in his Council. How fair a Field, my Lord, are your Praises to enlarge on, were my Faculties proportionable to my Subject, or my Offerings of value answerable to the Dignity of the Person they are made to, but the Enterprise is too vast and too difficult for such an Author as I; and your Glory stands so sure in that universal esteem the whole World hath for you, that it hath no need of new Eulogies or Panegyrics. It becomes me better to study your Pleasure: The Happy Slave hath an impatient desire to entertain your leisure hours with the Relation of his Adventures. And if he prove so happy, as not to displease you, I shall esteem it the highest piece of good Fortune he hath met with in his Life; at least, I believe he cannot desire any thing with greater passion, unless it be, that he who hath taken the Liberty to present him to you, may with all due respect subscribe himself,  
My Lord, Your most Humble, and most Obedient Servant, S. Bremond.   

Advertisement.  
THE Book I Publish scarce deserves an Advertisement. But that I give you, is not to bespeak the Critics in my favour. I cannot believe any Person of Wit will exercise his Faculty on a Trifle, which perhaps I have spent less time to Compose, than he must to censure. But 'tis because some Persons having small kindness for an Author, have been pleased heretofore to comment on my Tables, to make stories of my stories, and to stretch my fancy to conjectures which never came into my Head: It were easy for me to justify myself in this particular, if it were desired; but I conceive my manner of proceeding hath sufficiently done it, to Dedicate it to one of the Principal Lords of the Kingdom, a Book, such as they make my former, by their strange interpretations to be, and to put my Name to it, was it not the way to gain myself Enemies, and utterly ruin me? I have committed faults in my time, but never of this nature. Therefore I declare to the Public, and especially to those who busy themselves in penetrating into other men's intentions, that under the literal sense of my Tales there is not hid any Allegorical meaning, that when I speak of the Turks and of afric, I have not any Ideas in Europe or any other Nation, and that they will make me think quite otherwise than I think, if they make me speak any otherwise than I speak, if the Intrigues or Adventures I write of, have some conformity to those of our times, I am not to answer for it: 'Tis the fault of Chance and not mine. There are so many in Love, that though Love takes infinite ways, they can hardly avoid meeting sometimes: were Writers confined to entertain you only with things rare and extraordinary, they would be soon drawn dry, and all their stories quickly exhausted; the Reader is entreated to do me Justice herein, and not pay me with ingratitude for the Presents I make him of my Toys: This shall be followed by a Second Part, where the History of Laura, who shall bear the principal part in it, shall be matter of Gallantry, and far exceed this of the Sultaness.   


THE HAPPY SLAVE, A Novel.  
afric, for some Ages, hath passed for a part of the World, where the People were no less Cruel and Savage than the Lions and Tigers that fill the Deserts of that Country: But since the discovery of Love there, it hath appeared, that as Love grows in all Country's, so Barbary itself hath nothing of Barbarous but the Name. To verify this, I shall entertain you with a piece of Gallantry acted there, which may justify what I affirm.  
Count ALEXANDER, a young Roman Lord, very considerable for Estate, (but more for Birth and Parts,) had scarce appeared to act his part on the great Theatre of the World, but he found himself pressed by his Relations to Marry: He was handsome, high spirited, and witty, as those of Old Rome, but addicted to Pleasure, as those of the New; humoursome, and wholly given up to the pursuit of his Fancy and Inclinations. As for Marriage (upon the good Advice he had received not to engage, but as late as he could,) he usually said, What a pitiful Utensil a Wife is? witness the greatest part of those Gentlemen dignified with the Illustrious Title of Husbands; especially now a days, when Men seem to have Wives only for this, That others may make use of them.  
These Consequences he drew, as well from Experience as Example; for being Young, Handsome, and Rich; he was sufficiently qualified not to fail of good Fortune, with a Sex (in our Age) very kind and susceptible, and had not wanted his divertisements of that Nature; and therefore he had small inclination by taking a Wife, to give others the Opportunity to pay him in his own Coin.  
In the mean time the Interests of the Family (which often prove Poison to the greatest pleasures of Life) obliging the most excellent Persons to ordinary Actions: The Young Roman, to deliver himself from the importunity of Relations, chose rather to quit the Pleasures of ROME, by Travelling abroad, than to make himself subject to a Law so contrary to his Humour, and that beloved Liberty he preferred before all things. He communicated his design to his Valett de Chambre, who had served him long, and being active and ingenious, quickly took order to have all things in readiness that were necessary for their purpose.  
The Spring was come, and the Wether seasonable for Travel, when on a fair day the Young Gentleman and his Servant privately left Rome, and Embarked at Civita Vecchia in a Felucca hired for the purpose. His design was to visit the best Courts of Europe, beginning with that of Spain. But there are Persons over whom Fortune is so rigorously imperious, that she seems jealous of any thing they undertake, without consulting her first. 'Twas she who provided Count Alexander a Voyage into afric, when he had designed to confine his Travels to Europe: Of the Towns he was to see, Tunis was marked out by Fortune for one; and though much out of his Road, yet where Fortune intermeddles, there always happens something extraordinary; her excesses and Extravagancies being that which chiefly makes us take notice of her.  
The fourth day after he had left Civita Vecchia, this Young Lord began to perceive, that though all the Elements are terrible at Sea, yet Men who are Enemies are more terrible than the Elements. Till then the Wether had been fair to extremity, not a puff of contrary Wind: He proceeded in his Voyage with what speed he could wish, and blessed himself at the happiness of the Wether.  
The Coast of Italy is dangerous, especially in Summer, being then subject to Inroads by People of the South, whose livelihood is Robbery; and when the Wether is fair, their Trade is so great, that whosoever is not upon his Guard, is happy if he escape them; I mean the Corsairs of Barbary. Count Alexander, who never thought he had left Rome, to be led in Triumph to Tunis, saw himself at break of day saluted by a Brigandine of that Nation: The poor Seamen presently took Alarm, the sight of one Turban was sufficient to affright them: And the Turks had scarce discharged three or four Muskets at the Christians, but they leapt into the Sea to save themselves by swimming; the Italian Count and his Servant stayed in the Vessel, not in hopes of being able to defend themselves against that number of Enemies, which the strength of Rollando, and the Enchanted Armour of Amadis could scarcely have done, (whereas now a Man is but a Man, and among other Secrets that of Enchanting Arms is lost.) But having no skill in swimming, he could not expect to esape as the Mariners: Yet he was not so out of love with his Life, but that he held it better to be a Slave than be drowned. But that those Barbarous Corsairs might see what a Person they dealt with, and that he might sell his Liberty as dear as possible; having commanded his Servant to throw his Baggage overboard, he gave him order what further to do. I will omit the Description of the Action, though reputed the most glorious ever done on the Mediterranean, being a Combat of Two against Thirty, whereof they laid six dead on the Deck, and many more wounded. 'Twas an Engagement of a Herd of Wolves against Two young Lions, who defended themselves with unparallelled Valour and Courage. 'Tis true, the Turks (not to lose the Money they did expect from their Ransom) spared them at first, using Cudgels only against them; but at length the Blood and Death of their Comrades, and the shame and disdain they had of so long and obstinate defence made by two rash Christians against them, being so many, having filled them with rage, they had recourse to their Symitars: And with so much advantage, that having killed the Valet, the Young Count (after several Wounds received, his strength, not his Courage, having failed him in so tedious a Fight, was forced to yield, being no longer able to lift up his Arm to make use of his Sword. The Cowardly Villains had scarce the Courage to board him, and durst not approach him till they saw him fallen flat on his back. They took him, and carried him on board their Brigandine, where they gave him all the help in their power for saving his Life, having no other mark of their Victory, but the taking one Valiant Person, who had cost them too dear to be proud of their Prize: They beheld him with Admiration, and could not comprehend how an Age so tender could be capable of so much Courage; and that in a Body appearing so delicate, there was strength enough lodged to perform the actions they had seen. And being Naturally Superstitious, they did really believe there was something supernatural in the Young Man's Person, or at least, that he was the Flower of Christendom; this conceit helped them to bear with more patience the shame of their Victory. And finding their Men thin, and having taken before some considerable Prizes, they resolved to return directly for Tunis.  
The Wether was favourable, and in few days sail they arrived at Gouletta, where going ashore they put the poor Count on Horseback, bound and pinioned like a Robber, and brought him to the Town; some of these Barbarians having got the start of the rest, spread such a Report of his Valour and Courage, that they drew together not the ordinary People only, (who are curious of small matters) but the Principal Persons of Tunis, and the Bassa himself, who accompanied with many of his Friends, came walking towards the Ruins of Carthage, to see the arrival of this Famous Christian, whom they imagined a Man that carried Terror in his looks: But how were they surprised to see a Youth pale and disfigured, yet keeping with his good mien the marks of Grandeur in his Countenance. He was pitied by all, and the Bassa being a gallant and generous Person, was presently seized with such indignation against the Villains, who used in that manner one so little deserving it, that he commanded them forthwith on pain of his displeasure to unbind him upon the place; which they instantly did, not daring to disobey him, who next the Dey was of greatest Authority and Power in the Kingdom: He asked them the price of their Slave, and, having commanded him to be conducted to his Palace, paid the Corsairs five hundred Patacoons, being the Money they demanded.  
Count Alexander having happily fallen into the hands of so good and generous a Patron, began to recover. He was Lodged in a handsome Apartment, where the Bassa's Chirurgeons searched his Wounds: And being more carefully looked to than on board the Brigandine, he soon found himself better, though weak, and sore bruised by what he had suffered at Sea from the hands of those Barbarians, who having no pity for any, had not been too careful of him; yet there was no danger of his Life, the Fever he had was not great, and they had hopes to see him well in few days. The Bassa visited him Morning and Evening, and by degrees his care and kindness grew to that height, that he came more frequently to see him, and not only took more particular notice of him, but increased daily the esteem and friendship he had for him.  
Before I proceed, it may not be amiss to satisfy the Curiosity of the Reader, in giving him an account of the Person; the Birth and Character of the Bassa. Mahomet Bassa. by the Father of Sidy Marat, and Mahomet Lapsy the new Beys, was the Son of a Renegado of Corsica, of the Family of Petrosanty, who by the handsomeness of his Person and the excellency of his Wit, having gained the good Opinion of the Dey or King of the Country, made so good use of the favour of his Prince, that he advanced him to the highest Office of the Kingdom, whereof he left his Son Mahomet his Heir. But, to shorten the Story, Mahomet the younger being deeply embroiled with the Dey and the Divan, (who, jealous of the Authority his Father had gained, would have divided the Offices of Bassa and Bey went to the Port, and returned Victorious: Tunis never flourished as under him, being as fit for Arms as Gallantry, of a great Spirit, and excellent Wit, the most Brave, the most Generous and Magnificent of Men: He loved the Christians, and did them Justice; and entertained a Commerce of Civility with many Princes of Europe. He sent and received Presents every Year to and from the Great Duke of Tuscany; in a word, no Lord of that Country ever carried himself better, and had more Merit and Reputation than he: Some resemblance of this Splendour may yet be seen in the Person of Mahomet Lapsy his Son; he had inclinations worthy a great Lord, as he was, and the Soul of a Man truly Generous, and of Eminent Virtue.  
The Bassa was charmed with admiration at the Wit of the Count, extremely pleased with his Conversation, and sometimes past three or four hours in familiar Discourse, sitting on his Bed. He was chiefly surprised to find his Apprehension so clear, and Knowledge so general, that what Subject soever he chose to Discourse of he spoke of to admiration. This made the Bassa speak of him to his Friends with so tender affection, and so much to his Praise, that he gained him the Esteem and Amity of all the principal Lords of the Kingdom, who came to see him, and made him Presents according to the Custom of the Country.  
The Bassa, by many Illustrious marks and clear discoveries, was induced to believe the Count a Person of no ordinary Quality, but did not think fit to question him on that point; and had no further knowledge of him, than that he was an Italian. Nor durst the Count acquaint him with his Condition, fearing, the knowing of it might make his Enlargement the more difficult: But after so many favours from the Bassa, he could not in gratitude conceal himself from a Person who had Obliged him so highly, and to whom he did owe more than his Life. Therefore being asked by the Bassa, whether his Parents were living, and why he writ not to them: Sir, (said he) I should be the basest of Men, should I ever forget the Obligations you have put upon me, nor could I be guilty of a greater dishonesty, than to be prevailed upon by fear, or any other consideration, not to pay you what I owe you. I confess, (and I hope you will Pardon me,) that I scrupled to make a full discovery of myself to you, for fear my Captivity might be the harder, my bondage more severe, and my Liberty valued at a higher rate: but having found you so generous, I cannot, after the favours you have heaped upon me, the Rights you have over your Slaves, by forbearing to tell you, I am a Person of Quality, of one of the best Families of Rome; that my Name is Count Alexander, and that if ever you restore me to my Liberty, I must pay you my Ransom with most grateful acknowledgements of your kindness and favours.  
The Bassa smiled, and with much tenderness answered, Alexander, you shall not far the worse for your discovery to me; I am no Merchant of Slaves, nor did I buy you to sell you again: You are free, and shall live with me in this Country as if you were in your own, with one of your Friends: And if I detain you here a little longer than perhaps you would wish, it is because I can hardly part with one for whom I have so high an esteem, and so cordial affection. To these he added other expressions of Kindness, which were joyfully received by the Count, and dispelled all his grief for the loss of his Liberty.  
As soon as he had recovered his strength, the Bassa made him partake of his Pleasures and Divertisements, in Hunting, Walking, Horse-race; in all which the Count appeared Eminent above others, and became more Famous than ever any Christian was in those Parts; every considerable Person was ambitious to visit him, and took pleasure to see, and to treat him, which is a special favour to those of their Country, much more to one who professed a Religion, to which they are open irreconcilable Enemies. Hence you may observe the power of Merit, and how irresistible are influences of a Fortunate Destiny. The esteem the Bassa expressed publicly for him, contributed much to all these advantages; but you are to consider his Person, and the sweetness of his Temper, and candour of his Actions as the effectual means for gaining him Amity, and that which won him the Love of the most Excellent Persons.  
But notwithstanding his Illustrious Acquaintance, and agreeable Divertisements, the Honours and Favours he daily received, he could not forbear wishing with sighs for a return into Europe. He lived as one free, but was really a Slave to the Affection of the Bassa, from which he thought his deliverance more difficult, than from Fetters and Chains. His Wit and Inclinations were not for the Men of that Country; he loathed, and was weary of them: The Turks have a good sense, and will reason well enough of the Affairs of the World, and are great and subtle Politicians; but for Wit and good Breeding, they know not what it is; their Conversation is barren, and consists more in the smoke of Tobacco than Excellent Discourse: Their Knowledge is small, having ordinarily no advantage of Reading or Travel. The Bassa alone had more Wit, and more Reason than the rest altogether; but his Employment in the State engaging him in a thousand indispensible Affairs, would not allow him to be always with Alexander, who in the mean time past his Melancholy hours in the Garden of the Seraglio, where he had the privilege to walk, being a retired and very pleasant place, and that wherein he took great delight. But alas, how different were these days from those at Rome! the Italians are naturally apt to be Melancholy, and this Solitude made the Count so: The Bassa, who loved him sincerely, and passionately wished to have him always in good humour, was troubled to find him sad and dejected; but having often enquired the cause, could not obtain farther satisfaction, than that it was an effect of his Temper: He had furnished him to excess with all that Country could afford for the Pleasures of Life, and could not imagine the cause of the grief, but fancied at last that to complete his Divertisements, Alexander might want the conversation of a Woman. The Bassa being a Person much given to Gallantry, was the more easily inclined to believe he had found the true cause of his Melancholy. And looked upon it as no incurable Disease, but presently resolved to find out a Remedy, by furnishing him with a Mistress, which was a high strain of complaisance in a Person of his Character; but there were no limits to the Love he had for his Alexander.  
The Law of Mahomet is very severe in this Point, against Persons of another Religion, though very indulgent to those of his own. Those who fall into the hands of the Turks, and will make love to their Women, are under the necessity of changing their Religion, or Burning: these Extremities are hard, yet of the many Christians reduced to those straits, I know not one who hath thought Martyrdom so charming, as not to prefer Circumcision before Burning: the Bassa, though no zealous observer of the Law, was willing however to avoid the Scandal that might follow if the Intrigue were discovered, and therefore designed to marry him to a Christian. There was with the Sultaness his Wife, an Italian Slave, a young Maid of good quality, lovely and witty: it was not long since the Bassa had been in love with her, but without any success: whether it proceeded from the respect she bore to the Sultaness her Mistress, who loved her entirely, or from scruple of Conscience in point of Religion, with which she excused herself, certain it is, his addresses were vain; and after three Months eager pursuit of his design, being not accustomed to so much resistance, he quitted her, and cast his eyes on other less difficult conquests: he hoped that one Christian with another might have better success, and that Alexander being very lovely, and young, needed only to show himself for gaining the love of a Maid of his Country, professing the same Religion with him: he endeavoured to dispose her for the purpose, by raising in her an esteem for the Gallant he provided her: he had often spoken of him in the Chamber of the Sultaness, where Laura, the Slave we are discoursing of, did constantly attend.  
And having form the design, he seldom entertained them with any thing else, but Alexander did this, or Alexander said that; of which he gave them so pleasant Descriptions, that he could not fail of making some impressions of love for him in a Woman, though never so little susceptible.  
The Count knew nothing of all these good Offices; the Bassa smiling sometimes at his sadness, would tell him, he should shortly see him in a different humour. One having disposed all things on Laura 's side, (who had told him, she would not be displeased to see this Christian) he took him into the Garden of the Seraglio to walk, and after a turn or two, asked him if he had ever been in love. The question did very much surprise him, apprehending, that being among a People naturally suspicious, the Bassa might perhaps have had some Jealousy of him, though he could not imagine the cause. But to disabuse him, he held it necessary to affect great indifference in the business of Women, and (the truth is) to that day he had not been in love. And though it were ill courtship to the Bassa, who was an admirer of Women, to tell him he had never been in Love; yet he chose rather to commit a solaecism in courtship, than to give him the least cause of suspicion. The Bassa advised him to have a care of himself, lest Love should one day be revenged of him, and told him, he despaired not of seeing him a Lover in Barbary: You are, said he, handsome and witty, and there are here, as in Europe, dangerous Ladies, who perhaps may have designs on your liberty; and you are not yet got out of Tunis: This Discourse unexpected, and spoken with such an Air, so troubled the Count, he knew not what answer to make. The Bassa much pleased at the disorder he had put him to; What, said he, doth Love appear so terrible to you, that you dare not encounter it? can a Man of your bravery be afraid of a Passion? Recollect yourself, and think it not so dreadful here as in Italy; you arm your Cupid with weapons of War, we dress ours with Flowers; nothing is less cruel than Love among the Turks: our Women are kind, and good natured, and never are the cause of any man's death by coyness and disdain; the sole difficulty is in getting a sight of them; gain but that point, and nothing can be more easy than the rest: your Ladies are scrupulous and shy of showing favour to their Lovers, and ours make a conscience of seeing their Languish: it is not so odious to be fond and coming with you, as 'tis to be cruel and insensible here. We follow in the first place the Law of nature, preferring it to Mahomet's, as being Men before we are Mussulmans. We hold ourselves obliged to pay kind regard and affectionate tenderness to Female Beauty, and expect from it a return of complacency. And those who approve not these Maxims, we esteem unworthy to taste the pleasures of Love. I know that in Europe you use this Passion an extraordinary way, making that Martyrdom which should be a delight; but I would fain know, what the design of that Woman can be, who sees a man every day on his knees at her feet, sighing for that which she also desires, and it may be, more passionately. Why then must he be tormented? Why so many sighs, why so many tears expected from him, when the passion of both Sexes is equal, if that of the Female may not pass for the greater?  
The Count having in this time recollected himself, answered; I believe, Sir, that in Love as in other matters every one may have his particular fancy, and different Maxims for conduct: but if I, who was never in Love, may be allowed to deliver my opinion of it, I conceive that Men born under a Law, are insensibly disposed to bear it with ease. And I dare confidently affirm, there is more sweetness, and charming delight in the torments we endure in our way of Loving, than in those easy pleasures that cost you nothing: think not, Sir, those torments so cruel as our Lovers represent them; they aggravate them only to affect their Mistresses the more, and to make them more sensible. It would certainly surprise you to hear them cry, Increase, O love, Increase so sweet a pain: their sufferings are pleasures. The Bassa was so charmed with hearing him speak, that he would not interrupt him, so that he proceeded, What satisfaction can you find in a Love that is fulsome and dull, without any pique to make it poignant, and season it for relish? What divertisement to be expected from an innocent Cupid, a Child without wit, without waggery, that permits you to do in all things as you please? The Bassa could not forbear laughing, and told him, that to make him believe that Love the most charming, that made him suffer most, he must make it appear by trial in himself by being in Love, enduring with pleasure all the torments he spoke of: Sir, said Alexander, I was never in love in my Country, where you know we have freedom of living, and Liberty of converse with the Female Sex; it is not probable than I shall fall in love here, where we are not allowed so much as a sight of them: means may be found, replied the Bassa, to satisfy you in that particular if you desire it. I do not conceive it for my advantage, said the Count, to thrust myself into the fire to try the experiment, or to change my Religion. No, no, said the Bassa, it is with a Christian I would have you acquainted, and one in my judgement very beautiful, and not unworthy your sighs: had I been of your mind, and like the Lovers of your Country, taken pleasure in being vexed and tormented, my business might have been done. She made me pine for her above three Months, till weary of a Mistress that had so little sense of my pain, I betook myself to others that were more of my humour; her beauty and wit will certainly charm you, and you may find her as haughty, as fierce, as cruel as you can wish: it may be difficult to have a sight of her, as being with the Sultaness, who, since she knew the inclinations I had for her, would never permit her to step out of her Apartment: but I'll bring you thither disguised as an Eunuch; there is no other way of entrance for you into the Seraglio: and you are so young, that by Night you may pass for an Eunuch without any suspicion. The Count gave him a thousand thanks for the favour, not but that he could have been very well content to have been without it, having no great desire to engage himself in Acquaintance in a Country where he would tarry as short time as he could; yet in complaisance to the Bassa, and of Curiosity to see a Slave the Bassa represented so beautiful, he accepted this offer with some kind of joy.  
The fourth Prayer being over, be came to his Patron, being the time he usually went to the Seraglio: And having taken the Habit of an Eunuch provided for him there, he waited on the Bassa to the Apartment of the Sultaness: Laura, who had notice of their coming, waited their entrance; the Bassa came smiling up to her, and whispered her in the Ear, that he had brought her an Eunuch, who could tell her News out of Italy; prayed her to have a care of him, and to use him as a Person he loved entirely. Laura fell a laughing, and answered, she doubted not but the Eunuch should give him a good account of his Reception. The Count, though Disguised, was so easy to be known, that, had the Bassa said nothing, his good Mien had discovered him: No Eunuch, no Turk had so good an air. She gave him her hand to lead her into a Chamber, where they should not be exposed to their view who passed by. Sir, said she, I know not what thanks to give the Bassa for the favour he hath done me, to afford me a sight of you, no man being allowed entrance here but himself, and the Eunuch whose Habit he hath caused you to take. I cannot impute it to any thing but the extraordinary affection he hath and daily declares for you. 'Tis true, Madam, answered the Count, the kindness of the Bassa to me is extreme; but either of us have reason to be concerned how to thank him, (as he very well deserves) 'tis certainly I, for the favour he hath procured me; yet I could wish I were not wholly beholding to him for it, but that (as he would have me believe) you had a hand in it. Sir, replied Laura, I shall tell you no lie, I have made it sufficiently known to you, I desired this favour from him. He told us things so glorious of you, and related them so much to your advantage, you may easily believe, I (who, for three years I have been here, have not had the Liberty of Converse with any Man) could not but desire acquaintance of a Person▪ so generally esteemed. Madam, said he, this Country hath been favourable in allowing me a Reputation, which perhaps I may find difficult to maintain in your Opinion. You need not fear that, replied Laura, your Mien confirms sufficiently the reports that have passed of you. But to change the Discourse, do you know, said she smiling, that sometimes 'tis dangerous in a Nation like this, to make yourself so much the subject of Discourse; if not on the men's account, yet certainly on the women's, who fall in Love merely on report, without a sight or knowledge of the Party: The Count answered smiling, Madam, there is no danger of your being of the number of those kindhearted Ladies, I am not so Fortunate. And why, said she, might not I be one, who have so longed for a sight of you: but to lose no more time, I must tell you, your Fortune is better than you think; and I do that for another, which perhaps I would not have done for myself. The desire of seeing a Man is here reputed a mighty advancement of Love, where to see and to agree are all one. But I have undertaken this affair, and made the Bassa believe I have very favourable thoughts of you. And to satisfy your Curiosity of knowing the Party for whom I have so much complaisance in store, it is for the Bassa's Lady, Madam Alhie the Sultaness: The confidence she is pleased to repose in me is so great, that she hath entrusted me with this Secret, and my kindness for her should not admit one moment's scruple doing her this Service. I cannot doubt but you have heard of her beauty; never was any so famous in this Kingdom, nor perhaps in the World, more worthy admiration: And as for her temper, 'tis the sweetest and most lovely that can be imagined. The first view you have of her, will persuade you she hath an inclination to Love, so tender, so languishing is the air of her Countenance. And though this be natural to the Women of this Country, and that the first thing they are taught, is to sigh, and appear languishing, yet I have not observed those weaknesses in her but on your account. To deduce things from the Original, I must inform you, that when the Bassa returned from Constantinople, having dispatched the Affair depending there between him, and the King, and Divan of this place, and being confirmed by the Grand Signior in the Offices his Father had left him, which they had disputed; the King, in order to Reconciliation, was advised to give the Bassa his Daughter in Marriage. Alhie was then Sixteen Years old, and her beauty at the height; though at this day in my judgement, no man that sees her, but must be in Love with her. These Marriages of Policy and State-interest, to which the Daughters of great ones are subject to be Sacrificed, seldom prove Happy. The Bassa Espoused Alhie, and perhaps loved her a Week, but after that returned to his former Engagements, and for ordinary beauties quitted the greatest of the Kingdom. 'Tis true, it often happens thus in this Country, where Men abhor loving by Duty and Obligation, and commonly love Mistresses better than Wives: but this Lady, in my Opinion, aught to have been excepted, as wanting nothing requisite to satisfy the Passion of any reasonable Man; but she is as unfortunate as others. The Bassa, though otherwise a Person of much Gallantry, visits her scarce once in a Month; yet he pays her all the Respect in the World, and she hath no cause of complaint but of his Love; but take love from Marriage, what signifies the rest? What a trouble it is to a Young Lady, who knows her own merit, to see herself slighted in that whereof she is most sensible? A Lady who would think herself happy in being beloved, and thinks she deserves it: you must be a Woman before you can comprehend the rigour of this usage, and the greatness of her misfortune. But to come to what concerns you; the Sultaness hath ever had a great inclination for Christians; and the greatest pleasure she takes, is, in stories she makes me tell of my Country, which surprise her so (especially when I speak of the freedom Men have there with Women) that she hath a thousand times wished her Fortune had been as mine, and that she had fallen into the hands of a Christian, who would have carried her into that Country. 'Tis certain, a Woman had better be a Slave with us, than free among the Turks, where their Life is nothing but a perpetual Slavery. The Adventures of Love and Gallantry have pleased her so well in the relation, that she longs for a sight of one of those I called Persons of Quality and Merit, who were so Gallant and Handsome, as I represented. You were no sooner arrived, but she came with great joy to tell me, the Bassa had newly bought a Christian, of whom they spoke Wonders. I fell a laughing, and asked if it were not such a one she had often wished for her Slave. She blushed, and turning about with a sigh, answered, who knows what may happen, and whether Fortune hath not designed him for me. She made me her Bedfellow that Night, to entertain her on that subject. On the morrow the Bassa having confirmed the Reports of you, and commended your Person, she and I for several days had no discourse but of you. The kindness she hath for me, makes me somewhat familiar with her; nor do we very strictly observe here our distance towards great ones; this made me sometimes take the Liberty to quarrel with her for the longing she expressed for a Man she had not seen. I confess, said she, this were falling in Love a little too soon, if we managed our Love as the Christians do theirs. But the Bassa having made such a description of this Man, there is not a Woman in the Kingdom who would not have had a greater Passion for him than I have expressed. And you may believe he would not have spoken so much in his praise before the meanest of his Empresses; but though he slight me so, that he cares not what I think, my affections are free. You would esteem yourself happy, Madam, said I, to have such a Christian in Love with you. More happy, replied she, than you can imagine. And I will assure you, I could willingly change the state I am in, for the condition of a private Christian Lady: What good does it me, to abound thus with Riches, to receive so much Honour, to be the Daughter of a King, and the Wife of a Bassa, if I cannot be content, nor do as I would, nor love where love is due? In a word, if I am nothing less than I am taken to be, but a Slave more unhappy than those under Chains. Poor Laura (said she, embracing me tenderly) how I pity thee, who hast tasted the Pleasures and Liberty of thy Country, and hast unhappily fallen into their hands who use so unworthily all sorts of Women.  
With such discourses as these did we entertain ourselves ever since they spoke of you at Tunis. The Bassa came oftener to visit the Sultaness, though we knew not the reason; and almost every day brought us the News of you: And, as he loves you entirely, took pleasure in relating every thing you did. Perhaps, had he known the favourable inclinations the Sultaness had for you, he had been more sparing in his expressions of you, for I cannot believe he designed to prejudice himself in speaking obligingly of you. But it was an oversight, and most unpardonable in him who so well knew the temper of Women of this Country: Judge you whether so good a report from so good a hand could want its effect. The Sultaness was affected with them so much to the purpose, that what at first was a bare inclination, grew up by degrees to a settled Passion. Her humour was suddenly changed from Merry and Jocund, into Sadness and Melancholy; and I, who alone knew her Distemper, could not but pity her sighs and complaints, and was extremely afraid she might fall into a Disease, which they call Fantasy, and is a kind of Melancholy that proves Mortal to many Men and Women of this Country. I did my endeavour to cure her of this Passion, by representing to her all the obstacles in her way to the happiness she desired. But my Remedies came too late, I did but trouble her to no purpose, having said to herself all that I could possibly say to divert her from the affection she had taken: So that despairing of Remedy on that side, I applied my thoughts another way, and flattered her hopes of bringing that to pass, which I could not discover the least possibility to effect. But to prevent the growth and increase of her Distemper, it was necessary to deceive her by flatteries and hopes. At last, I know not how it fell out, that the Bassa having spoken of you to me two days ago, as he frequently does when he finds me alone, I told him, I should be very glad to see you, if it might be done without noise and soandal: I was extremely astonished how easily he promised it: And you may believe I had not waited here for you, but that I very well knew him a Man of his word.  
The Count having harkened to all this discourse with marvellous attention, and thanked Laura for all her good Offices, and answered all her obliging expressions in behalf of the Sultaness, discovered to her the Bassa 's design, and the reason of his being brought thither; Laura was ravished to hear his discourse, and though she foresaw her concern in the Affair was like to be small, yet she was pleased with the News she received, being willing to sacrifice all Interests of her own, to the satisfaction of her Lady. But, Sir, to tell you all, said she to the Count, having paid my thanks to the Bassa for the favour I was in hopes of from him, I went presently to bring the News to the Sultaness, who could not sufficiently embrace me, being so extremely transported, that nothing in the World could have made her more joyful; she hath scarcely been able to sleep ever since: she and I have laid a hundred designs▪ and framed to ourselves a thousand devices how she may have a sight of you: but if the Bassa will not permit you to come alone hither, I do not see how it may be effected: the Sultaness in the mean time will be ravished with joy that I have seen you, and that you know some part of her mind.  
The happy Roman being charmed at the kindness a Lady of that beauty and quality had for him, was very urgent with Laura to oblige him on this occasion, and pressed her to say to the Sultaness from him, all that a heart extremely sensible of the favour she did him, was capable to express. That he would have esteemed himself the happiest of men, had it been in his power to have merited this honour, and that it should be the business of his life, to deserve it by his actions. Sir, replied Laura, all she desires of you, is that you will so manage the Liberty the Bassa doth afford you, that she may once have a sight of you: I find myself engaged to it by so many reasons, said the Count, that you may be assured I will not forget any thing that may gain this honour: I must entreat you to assure the Sultaness accordingly, and that I have at least as much passion as she. He had no sooner said this, but the Bassa came to them, which made them change their discourse, and the Bassa having condescended to make himself one of the company, and very pleasantly rallied; then said, he perceived by their countenances they were obliged to him for the acquaintance he had procured between them, and that they were very well pleased one with the other: the Count and Laura having returned the compliment, the Bassa took his leave, and he and the Count went out of the Seraglio.  
The Bassa had observed such joy in Alexander's countenance when he was with Laura, it made him believe he was very well pleased with the visit he had given her. But he had the curiosity to ask him how he liked her; and whether she appeared so beautiful as he had represented her: the Count answered, it was certainly impossible to see a Lady more handsome, or more witty: and that he was charmed at her Beauty and Conversation. The Bassa who desired nothing more than to see him in Love, was extremely glad at the confession he made; and told him it should be his fault, if he saw her not again; and, if he desired, he might do it on the morrow, that he would give him a Key to enter the Seraglio, and that he might go alone; lest if he brought him in, the Sultaness might be jealous: it being not his custom to visit her so often, the Count failed not to acquaint him how highly that favour would oblige him; so that the Bassa bid him go to bed, and take his rest, and told him he should see Laura on the morrow about the time he had seen her that day.  
Never was a night so restless to any man, as this to the Count, her inclination, like that he had to marriage, with the principal and most beautiful Lady of the Kingdom, was a thing so rare, and so tempting for a Man of his temper; what Laura had said of those obliging thoughts that charming Person had for him, did so ravish him with pleasure, that in the depth of misfortune he could not imagine any man more fortunate than himself: But when he considered, that she was the Wife of the Bassa, a Person to whom he was so strictly obliged, he was troubled extremely, and sighed for sorrow; these second thoughts prevailing at that time over the other, he highly reproached himself for entertaining a thought of so base an ingratitude. But it is a ticklish business to repent of a thing that extremely delights us, and men seldom charge themselves home for a fault so pleasing and lovely, as the pleasure of being beloved: those reproaches of the Count against himself, were not altogether the most violent that might be, and sometimes he would be angry with himself for making so much ado. At last, being assaulted by turns, on the one side by Reason, on the other by Passion, by the Glory of that, and the tenderness of this, he got up in the Morning, without having been able to take any other resolution than to yield himself up to be guided by his Destiny, to be governed by Fate, and be merely passive in the management of the business; that is to say, to love, in this particular, like a Turk, and to see the Sultaness, if it were so predestinated: but to do nothing in order to it, though he had promised Laura to contribute on his part all that lay in his power, and had told the Bassa, he should be extremely glad to go again to the Seraglio. His resolution sometimes was very tottering and weak, and to speak truth, 'tis almost vain to take one against love: he wished a thousand times that day, that his Fate to whose conduct he had given himself up, would incline to bring him to the Sultaness. He waited the hour with a great deal of impatience, however he would fain have persuaded himself to the contrary: but a young heart cannot be insensible, being so apt to take fire, that it scarce requires any help to inflame it.  
As soon as the Bassa saw the Count in the Evening, he showed him (smiling) the Key of the Seraglio: and he received it with the greatest joy in the World. But I give it, said the Bassa, on condition that you make me your Confident. And I think I have done enough to engage you to do me that pleasure. The hour was come for his going to the Sultaness, and the Count having put on his Eunuch's Habit, his Patron every day more obliging than other, would needs bear him company as far as the Seraglio; Laura having notice of his coming, had waited for him above an hour at the Gate, and no sooner saw him arrived, but ravished with joy, she gave him her hand, and told him. You are either the most dextrous, or else the most fortunate Person in the World: you bring about things so difficult, and in so short a time, that all things seem to join in your favour: I am obliged for it to my fortune, answered the Count; for, as for Addresses I had no occasion to use any, but if you would make me believe myself as happy as you say, help me to a sight of the Sultaness. Laura told him, he should presently hear of her, and brought him into a Chamber, where her Lady was used to receive visits. It was her custom to seat herself in a kind of Alcove, the passage to which, was through her Chamber, made up with great Ballistres guilt, and covered with a Curtain of very thin Silk, through which she could see those whom she honoured only with a sight of her; which is a piece of State used in that Country.  
Laura told the Count, that the Sultaness would see him from behind that Curtain. And shall not I then, said he, have the honour to see her. I know not, said Laura, but 'tis a favour so great, that 'tis never granted but when they are willing to grant all that may be expected: Ah Madam, said the Count, I beseech you to desire that favour for me; tell her it will be of small consequence to give a stranger a sight of her, and that I shall die with grief if she deny me that honour. Laura▪ promised him all the assistance in her power, and leaving him for a moment, went to advertise the Sultaness, who questionless longed for news of the arrival of her dearly beloved Christian. In the mean time the Count considered the Riches and Ornaments of the Chamber, being the most magnificent of the Apartment, it was set out with four Crystal Glasses which had a pleasant effect on the Gold and the Jewels which glittered all about: Scarce had the Sultaness seen Laura, but she knew by her countenance the happy news she brought; and without allowing her time to say any thing, she passed to the Alcove, from whence she designed to take a view of the Christian, before he should know that she was there. But she made too great a noise at her entrance, and the Cavalier let her know, he had perceived her, by saluting her, as he did, after the Turkish mode: Laura arrived the same time from the other side, and going to the Ballistre, went to whisper the Sultaness, who was not able sufficiently to express the pleasure she took in seeing this Christian, and the Charms that appeared in his Person. As for him, he was strangely perplexed at a visit of this nature, where he could neither see, nor speak to the Party he visited. He went, he came, he turned about as desired, and at the end of the Show, went silently to the Ballistre, and addressing himself to the Sultaness, having seen a shadow of her through the Curtain, he told her a thousand pretty Stories, a thousand Gallantries to oblige her to afford him a view, for she understood Italian, and spoke it pretty well, having learned it of Laura. She was very well pleased to hear the Count speak, and heartily laughed at it, but answered not a word, nor had the Curtain drawn. The Count was impatient, and accounting every moment lost he spent in that manner, seemed to fret and be angry, and in a frank and free way told her, he should die of the Fantasy, as the People of that Country, if she denied him this favour, and that at last he would with his own hand draw that troublesome Curtain: and he had certainly done it, if Laura, who feared the Sultaness might take it ill, had not hindered him. But Laura was mistaken, and her Lady gave her not thanks for her pains.  
'Tis a Maxim among the Women of that Country, not to sin of themselves against the Rules of their duty; but press them a little, and offer them the least violence, they will presently yield without any resistance: their excuse is, that nature is weak, that men know it well enough, and are very much to blame to press them so home: that if there be harm done, it must be laid to their score, who cause them to do it, and not to them who are ignorant of it, and innocent in the business. Laura not well versed in the use of this Maxim, committed a fault, when she thought she had been discharging her duty. The amorous Sultaness would have been ravished with joy to have been seen by the Christian, and the officious Slave spoiled all by a piece of useless discretion. But her Lady was willing to receive the miscarriage, and satisfy in some measure the extreme desire her dear Christian had to see her; she gave him leave to ask what he pleased, to make him amends for the rigour of the custom of that Country, which made it undecent for her Sex to show themselves to any but their Husband. The Count presently desired she would at least do him the honour of showing him one of her fair hands: The Sultaness no sooner heard him, but lifting up the Curtain a little, she gave him her hand over the Ballistre. The young Count was so charmed with this favour, that transported with joy, he laid his knee to the ground, and kissed her hand with such passion; that the Sultaness, equally transported, wrung his hand, pressing it so hard, to let him know she approved of what he did. She was not over careful to keep herself unseen; and having put forth her arm, she could not choose, but sometimes appear to him in part by one chance or other (to which perhaps she contributed a little.) Her Gallant could have wished he had had a full sight of her, but thinking he had enough for the first time, he would not adventure to desire any more. The pleasure the Sultaness took in the sight of him, was so great, and so charming, that she could have willingly past that night with him. But knowing that many eyes were upon her, and that she lived where men are extremely given to jealousy, and especially of their Wives, she had apprehensions of being Lampooned in her own Apartment for staying so long in the Alcove, at a time so unseasonable for receiving a visit. And Laura had told her, 'twas time to withdraw. But how cruel a thing 'tis to be forced to part from that which we love? it cannot be done without pain and regret. Still she found some little pretence or other to stay him a little longer; at last she pretended him with a Gold Chain beset with Jewels, and told him obligingly it was not fit a Slave like him should wear any other. The happy Count better satisfied with this Chain, than if she had given him the Crown of Tunis, answered her Gallantry, and the favour she did him with the most passionate and the most grateful expressions imaginable. And seeing the necessity of parting, he took his leave of the Sultaness, and withdrew with Laura, who accompanied him to the Gate of the Apartment.  
Presents among the Turks, are the first Evidences of affections, and often pass for declarations of love. Laura, who knew it well enough, made the Count sensible, before parting, what that meant which he had received from the Sultaness; and that he was not to doubt, having heard and seen so much of her, but she passionately loved him. Yet he was to take heed, and believe he had need of abundance of discretion, to deal with the Women of that Country, whose passion of love is sometimes so violent, that they observe no bounds; that the Sultaness was indeed the most rational she had known amongst them, and had the most wit, yet tender and passionate as the rest. That she and he would be immutably ruined, if the Bassa, who had no small experience in Amours, should once have the least suspicion of the Intrigue. That there was not in the Kingdom a man more tender of his honour than he; and that all the kindness he had for him, would not save him from his indignation, if he once came to know he had seen his Wife.  
As much taken as our young Roman was with the pleasant beginnings of his Amours, and for all his rejoicings at those evident kindnesses he had received from the greatest Beauty under Heaven, yet he could not forbear reflecting on Laura's good counsels, but went musing along the Seraglio, what course he should take, what means he should use against so dangerous a Passion, which would certainly bring him to ruin and confusion. When the Bassa going to one of his Mistresses, met him by the way, and seeing him pass by without so much as saluting him, he presently fell a laughing, and taking him by the arm. Now, said he, I see that you are in love. The Count being confounded at his surprising him in that case, made excuses for his fault. The Bassa made answer, that if he desired to be pardoned, he must freely confess the truth, and acknowledge himself extremely disordered at the Merits and Beauty of Laura: More Sir (said the Count with a very deep sigh) than you can possibly express or imagine. But it being late, and the Bassa not willing to stay, he deferred the more particular inquiry to another opportunity, and dismissed him to his Lodging. This was a great happiness, and no less pleasure to the young Lover, who was not then in condition to give the Bassa an account of his Amours. Part of that night he passed walking in his Chamber, as if he had intended to come to a Resolution before he went to bed. It was not the fear of death, or misfortune that troubled him, but the horror of ingratitude; and having received so much kindness from the Bassa, thought it inexcusable in him to have any unjust designs on his Wife: But, then says he, should I not be the most ungrateful of men, should I slight the affection of so charming a Person, to whom, if I consider her Obligations according to their value, I owe more than to the Bassa? And is it not possible for me to see, and to love her within bounds, so as to be blameless on the one side and the other? No, no, if there be ingratitude in that, I cannot help it, there is nothing in the World can excuse me to the Sultaness, and love ought to make my excuse with the Bassa.  
This was the last Combat between gratitude and love in the heart of the Count; the last carried the day, and going to bed thereupon, he rested very well. The Bassa who was extremely desirous to see him so deeply in love, that he should not be able to deny it, was the first that spoke to him, to return again that day to the Sultaness Lodgings: he gave him the Key of the Seraglio, and laughing, told him, he need not make such haste to come back, if he found as much pleasure as he wished him there: but that he must have a care, he did not engross all the love to himself, but he should give Laura some part, unless he were minded to languish, as he had done, a long time to no purpose.  
The amorous Italian went strait to the Seraglio, and Laura, who waited for him, told him at his arrival, he might pass to the same Chamber he had been in, and that she would give her Lady notice of his coming; but she not having the patience of waiting so long, was got already into the Alcove. The Count having an extreme curiosity, and longing for a sight of that place, thought it convenient for the purpose, to make use of that time, when he believed the Sultaness was absent; and coming up to the Ballistre, gently took up the Curtain. But how was he surprised to see on the sudden, that charming Person in a posture the most capable of any, to make one in love.  
I shall not trouble you with a description of the Alcove, which being a Room of State for the Wife of so puissant a Lord, you may easily believe, was very noble and rich: It was raised a foot higher than the Chamber; the approach to it being by a space covered with a fair Turkey Carpet, checkquered with little squares of Damask wrought with Gold. The Sultaness lay on a Bed of Damask of like work; and having designed to show herself that day to the Count, she had not forgot to put herself in an equipage and posture capable to charm him at first sight: she had turned her face towards the Ballister, leaning her head carelestly on her left arm, which you might clearly see in her great Tiffany sleeve after the Turkish mode. Her black hair was partly pleated with great ropes of Pearl, parting down on her Breast, and part on her shoulders, and set off the clearness of her delicate Complexion (vying with the Snow in whiteness) to so much advantage, that it wrought wonderful effects in the beholder. She had about her body, a small Gold Bodice only, her bosom being half open, and the rest covered with a piece of fine Tiffany, like an Amazons Scarf: all was visible from her Neck to her Breast, and so admirable to behold, that it had been impossible for an eye, having seen it, (as the Count did) to escape being enamoured of it: she had on her head, plumes of several colours, and in the midst of them a crescent of Silver. Her Coat was of a light Stuff Embroidered with Gold after the fashion of the Country, with Diamond Buckles to tuck it up at the knee: her Leg was half naked, and the rest covered with Buskins all laid over with Diamonds and Pearls; in a word, she was all so Rich, so Gallant, so full of Charms, that the poor Count was utterly undone at the sight. His joy and astonishment were visible to her in that confusion of action and words, in which he was so miserably plunged, that he knew not what was become of himself, nor what he would say to her. But falling into an Ecstasy, and wholly swallowed up with admiration, his Eyes and his Sighs were Orators for him. The fair Sultaness as soon as she saw him, would, with a Handkerchief she had in her hand, have covered her face, and hid from him part of the confusion she was in. But the happy Lover, recovering courage by degrees, passing his arm betwixt the Ballistres, hindered her from it. Once you might have had reason Madam, said he, to have kept from my sight those treasures of love, as knowing full well that no man can see them without dying for love of them, but now 'tis too late to conceal them from me. I have seen more than any heart is able to bear, without yielding itself; and it would be extreme cruelty in you, not to complete what is so happily begun. As the Count was speaking to her in this manner, she looked upon him with eyes so tender and piercing, that she seemed willing to execute what he desired. The crafty Count having seized one of her hands, (to which, as he looked upon it, he gave a thousand amorous kisses) by little and little drew it out so far on his side, with so feeble resistance from the Sultaness, that she came at last to lean her head on the Ballistre just over against the head of the Count Then it was, he had full liberty to take a view at his leisure of those Beauties that put him to amazement, and ravished him with such joy as he had never before been sensible of. As ill luck would have it, the Ballistres were so close, that not any two of them stood half the head distance one from the other. However the two Lovers meeting half way, made a shift to slip through a great number of Kisses, the most charming and sweet that Lovers e'er tasted. The Count being naturally bold, made one Liberty but a step to another, and seeing what he was permitted to do, and the pleasure she took in it, he pressed his amorous temerity so far, that what he did may pass for half an enjoyment. Till than their entertainment was made up of dumb engagements, a thousand times more eloquent than the finest expressions in the World. Their eyes, their sighs, their actions, their toys had spoken a Language intelligible enough to persuade both they loved one another entirely. They had no need of other conversation; yet, Laura arriving, they changed it a little, but they spoke before her the most tender, and most passionate things you can imagine. The Sultaness who had that confidence in her as to conceal nothing from her, was not troubled at her coming. But the Count, who took not so much pleasure in these discourses though very obliging, as in those dumb entertainments, made a sign to Laura to take the other turn; at which the Saltaness seeming a little angry, let down the Curtain, and so fastened it behind, that he could not take it up. But this being in Jest, and to provoke his Passion the more, her rigour was short lived, and Peace presently made more firm than ever.  
The first favours give a privilege for others, and a kind of right not only to hope, but demand them: The Count, to be revenged of his Mistress for the piece of spite she had done him, thrust both his Arms between the Ballistres, and embracing her on the sudden, kissed her with that violence, that he forced Blood out of her lips. The Sultaness was so far from complaining of the rudeness of his Caresses, that being charmed with the pleasure of them, she carefully saved all the Blood on her Handkerchief to preserve it as a Trophy to show Laura, as a most sensible mark of the extreme Passion her dear Alexander had for her.  
Let me acquaint you by the way with a rarity of those parts; that for a Woman to have been beaten by a Man she loves, is esteemed in that Country a great evidence of affection to the party beaten. I confess such favours are somewhat rude, but 'tis the temper of the Country, and such is their custom: As for the Blood that came from the lips of the Amorous Sultaness, we may believe it proceeded from a transport of Love. With us, one may be bitten, but not beaten through extremity of this Passion; but blows exceed the limits of Gallantry, and that Woman must be an African, that loves to be so Courted. 'Tis a fashion will never pass in Europe, and though they use it sometimes, yet never to oblige Women; none of whom that I know of, were ever pleased with a bastinade. The rest of this visit having been spent in foolery and toys, though sometimes of much moment in matters of Love, I will not trouble you with the particulars. Laura, who was not far distant from the Lovers, appeared at the least sign of their pleasure to have her attend. The Count and the Sultaness bid each other adieu with the greatest kindness imaginable: And Laura brought him to the Door of the Apartment, so deep in Love, he scarce knew where he was. He went directly from thence to the Bassa, who instantly observed the visible change of the Count's former Sadness and Melancholy into a tender and languishing air; at which the Bassa taking occasion to laugh, said, Well, Alexander, hath Love played his part well?  
Is it your pain, or your pleasure hath so charmed you to day? I confess, Sir, said he with a sigh, it is the pleasure I have met with; but pleasure, I fear, which may cost me much pain. The Bassa believing, that to be the Confident of the Count's Passion, might be of some use, took him by the hand, and led him to the Garden, to take a turn in the Walks. He fell presently upon the subject of his good Fortune, and prayed him to tell him truly, how his Affairs stood. The Count having his Heart and his Fancy all full of Love, with very great ease gave him such a ravishing description of his tenderest affections, and painted the pleasures he had taken that Evening so much to the life, adding his sighs and exclamations, with gestures and looks so eloquent and passionate, that he awaked in the Soul of the Bassa the affection he had formerly for Laura, and lately laid asleep. What care soever is taken to cure one of this Passion, still there remains enough in the Heart of a Lover to set it on fire by the least spark that falls on it. The insensibility and resistance of Laura had not Ice enough in them to quench all the heat of the Bassa's affection. She had only covered it with ashes, to preserve it the better against another time: Had the Count acted like a Politic Lover, he had easily foreseen, how ticklish and dangerous a business it is, to make such representations before Persons who are Amorously inclined; and especially before a Man whom he had reason to consider as a Rival, and in whose Power it was to dispose of him as he pleased. But the truth is, that in speaking thus of Laura, he thought he hazarded nothing of his own; he had really no kindness for her, but hoped to do his own business the better, in making the Bassa believe that he loved her; which is the reason he did not carry himself in this with so much caution, as he would have done in another conjuncture.  
The Bassa slept not that Night. Laura appeared a thousand times more handsome and charming, in the description of the Count, than ever she had done in his Eye at full sight. He esteemed himself the most unfortunate of Men, not only for that he had quitted the pursuit, but had contributed so much to see her in the Arms of another: Hereupon jealousy presently possessed him, attended with a train of spite, rage, and peevishness to torment him. What great shame, thought he, could ever happen to a Man as he was, who never found resistance from a Woman, than to have been slighted by a Slave, who was his dependent, and had yielded to another Slave as soon as she had seen him? For after the passionate relation Alexander had made, the Bassa made no doubt but all was concluded; he had fancies of this kind that troubled him extremely: and if he did not then hate the Count, 'tis certain, he retained not for him that kindness he had formerly expressed towards him: And as for Laura, though he was then more in Love with her than ever, he had a pique against her, and could not forbear reproaching her all Night, for her want of discretion in making greater account of a man's kindness, that could do her no Service, than of his, by whom she might have made her Fortune. These thoughts were followed by others concerning his Person. He accused himself of baseness, and weakness of Heart, to trouble himself with the thoughts of a Creature that so little deserved his esteem, or to intend to hinder the satisfaction of two Lovers, whose Love he himself had caused and promoted. All this notwithstanding, he went on the morrow with the Count to the Seraglio; but for no other end, but to observe the countenance of Laura, who surprised to see him come: This is extraordinary, Sir, said she laughing, twice in one week: What will People say of it? As for you, said the Bassa, you will say no ill of it, I come in so good Company; and should others believe as formerly, that I come for love of you, you know 'tis not for myself, and therefore you are the more obliged to me. Laura very civilly thanked him for his goodness. They fell then all three into a little discourse of Gallantry, wherein the Bassa spoke so many kind things to Laura, that she might understand part of that Amorous trouble he was in, if she had mistrusted it; but he delivered himself with such an air, that his Compliments, and kind Expressions were taken for mere effects of his good humour. But the Bassa's coming thither, being under pretence of seeing the Sultaness, he could not dispense without giving her a Visit; but he was not long with her, being not able to rest till he returned to the two Lovers, which he did with all the speed in his power. He told Laura a thousand things more obliging than formerly; and having highly caressed her, gave her at parting such a look, that if she had made the least reflection upon it, she might have easily perceived the kindness he had formerly for her took fire afresh with more vehemence than ever; but she could not suspect in the least he would trouble her any more, after the kindness he had expressed for his Alexander, and having been the instrument of the pretended Passion between her and the Count She took all for Gallantry, and made it the subject of raillery with the Sultaness, to whom she gave an account of all that had passed with the Bassa, and with Alexander. The fair Turk went that Evening to bed, ill satisfied with her fate, having been disappointed of an Entertainment she had expected, as pleasant as that she had received the day before from her dear Christian; she could not sufficiently lament the unluckiness of the Visit given her by a man who Courted other Women, and seemed to have been born to incommode and give trouble only to her. Laura answered in raillery, She had little reason to complain of it to her, to whose complaisance she was beholding for a sight of her Lover: Ah Laura, said the Sultaness, who knows for what reason he hath been so complaisant? You may very well believe, it was not to oblige me. I believe so, Madam, replied Laura, but you are obliged to him however, and aught to thank him for me. After this little raillery, they fell to discourse, what could have brought the Bassa thither that evening; and could not imagine, but it was in Compliment to the Count  
The Bassa by this time was fallen into a deep Melancholy, seldom appearing, but when he walked in the Garden, sometimes alone, and sometimes with Alexander, and then not a word of Laura, nor any discourse of going again to the Apartment of the Sultaness: This troubled our Lover, who besides his affliction for being deprived of the sight of a Person he loved better than his Life, and ceasing to see her, must cease also to live; had a thousand tormenting surmises and troublesome fancies upon the Bassa's change of humour, which he could not attribute to any thing but his having taken some umbrage and jealousy of him, on the account of the Sultaness. The Sultaness and her Confident were no less tormented on the other hand; they had seen a first, a second, a third, and a fourth long day pass without a sight of their Alexander: Lovers are very exact Accomptants, and keep reckoning of the very moments, but account nothing more tedious than a day of absence. What should be the meaning of all this, said they one to the other, having a thousand fears upon them, though they knew not of what: 'tis a difficult matter to keep any thing secret in places of that nature. Yet they could not imagine they had given any occasion of discourse, or that any Person in the Apartment had made the least discovery of their Intrigue. At last, on the fifth day, after abundance of Affliction, the Bassa came to see them; but, the mischief of it was, that he came alone. Besides, he appeared so dull, so musing, and so much out of humour, they made no more doubt but he had smelled out the Intelligence they held with the Count But that which gave them the kill blow, and raised their fears to the height, was, that Laura having, according to her custom, waited the Bassa out of the Chamber, and asked him, what he had done with her dear Eunuch? I am jealous of him (said the Bassa, making no stay) I need tell you no more: Laura made haste to give her Mistress the Alarm, and told her, there was no more doubt to be made, but jealousy was the cause of the Bassa's not bringing Alexander with him, the Bassa himself having told her so that instant; those who are guilty, are easily frighted, and fear hath this property, that it so confounds the imagination, that the lightest suspicions are taken for clear and unquestionable truths. With what sighs, what tears did the poor Sultaness afflict herself; yet not so much for the ill consequences she might apprehend from the jealousy of the Bassa, as for the fear she had, that if he were really jealous of the Christian, she should never have a sight of him more. She did heartily wish she could have written to him, but there are few trusty Messengers to be found in those places, where there is cause to distrust every one you converse with; and every Eye that sees you, is a spy on your actions, at least if not gained by Money or Kindness, wherein, after all possible care, you may be deceived, as she was in this trouble. Laura received a Note from the Count, brought her by an Eunuch, and carried it forthwith to show it the Sultaness, being in these words.  
Madam, the Bassa every day more obliging than other, is pleased to grant me the honour of walking with you this Evening in the Garden of the Seraglio. I know not whether you can dispense with yourself till then. Let us take the hour you think most proper. He will be there with one of his Mistresses. Send me word, if you please, if I may expect this favour from you.  
The Bassa would never have thought of this walk, but out of the extreme desire he had to know certainly, how Laura and Alexander stood affected one to the other; and that he might inform himself of what they should discourse. The Garden was a place very fit for his design, especially by Night, where he could hear without being seen. He had made the proposal to the Count, in confidence he would receive it with a great deal of joy, which in appearance he did, but without hope of any great satisfaction from the Adventure, it being scarce probable the Sultaness would permit Laura to come. But that which really troubled him, was the opinion he had, the Bassa was certainly jealous of his Wife, since he gave him so clear proof of his unwillingness that he should see Laura at her Lodgings any more.  
The Question than was, how to write to the Slave, to dispose her for the walk. But the Count having written the Billet, the Bassa sent it by an Eunuch, and stayed for the Answer.  
The Sultaness read the Billet, and was of opinion with her Gallant, that it was for Love of her the Bassa was unwilling he should come any more to see Laura in her Apartment. It was long ere they came to a resolution in the point, whether Laura should agree to the assignation: Laura very wisely thought it better not to go, but the Sultaness, wholly led by her Passion, and too deeply in Love, to act any thing with reason that concerned her affection, notwithstanding any thing Laura could say, made her write him this Answer.  
It were to act the part of a very ill Person, to be all alone in the Garden, while others are diverting themselves there: I consent for pity, to come and bear you company, but on condition that you will be wise, and that we be at some distance from the Bassa, because I would not be known by her, that he brings with him. If you can promise me these two things, I am for you after the fourth Prayer, when the Sultaness is a Bed. Adieu.  
This Answer was beyond the expectation of the Count, who rejoiced extremely at the pleasure he promised himself with the Slave, from the discourse of the Sultaness, while they should continue in the Garden.  
Night being come, and the fourth Prayer over, the Bassa told him, he might go, and bring Laura to the Garden, while he went for one of his Mistresses, who was lodged on the other side. It is the custom of the Grandees of that Country, among a multitude of Women they have in their Seraglio, when they have not a particular inclination for any one, to take this to day, and another to morrow; and having lost the taste of Love, to search for Pleasure in change and variety.  
It may be easily imagined, that Alexander received this Commission with a great deal of joy, and was in no small haste to go to the Sultanesses Lodgings. She who was charmed at the sight of him, could not express her joy without a thousand transports of Love, and the most tender caresses a most passionate Lady could possibly make her dearest Lover. Alexander did his part to admiration, not only returning transport for transport, and caress for caress, but excelling his pattern, Love working in him, or he in the Sultaness such things as gave her very great satisfaction. It may be admired peradventure that two Persons so little acquainted, should in so few days become so very good Friends. But we must know, Love in these hot Countries makes far quicker progress than in the cold, where the Winds, and the Snow, and the Rain spoil his Wings, and hinder his flight: Whereas on the contrary, the Sun is there almost still at the height, and Love being a tender Infant, and going always naked, thrives there the better, where he finds Hearts very well disposed, and ready to take fire.  
The Count, who could not stay long there, was willing to bestow the small time he had to spend with the Sultaness in gentle reproaches for her permitting Laura to come and walk with him. You have, said he, a very good opinion of my Affection, Madam, or else you love me with a great deal of indifference, that this does not in the least trouble you at all. The Sultaness answered, she relied not so much on his Fidelity, as on Laura's Discretion, whom she knew too well, to think she would betray her. Look you to yourself, as for her I place a confidence in her, and if you do your Duty, I am persuaded she will not be wanting in hers. Having thus spoken, she would not detain him longer for fear of the Bassa, but retired to the Chamber. The happy Lover, very well pleased with the lucky moment he had passed with the Sultaness, asked Laura if she were ready; She made him answer, he should not stay for her longer than while she fetched her Barnus, which is a kind of Hood that covers them from Head to Foot. The Count seeing her return muffled up in that Garment, went his way before, according to their custom there, and she followed: He said not a word to her while they were in the Seraglio, for fear of being overheard, and discovered; but being arrived in the Garden, where they had liberty enough, Who will believe, Madam, said he, but we made an Amorous assignation, being come to a place of Rendezvouz so fit for the purpose. And the Bassa will not fail to think us the happiest Lovers in the World. Laura made him no answer, but kept on her way, till they came to the Bower that was assigned them at a convenient distance from the Bassa's, as Laura had desired. The Count gave her his hand, and knowing very well every turn in those Walks, which he visited almost every day, he made her sit on a seat of green Turf made for the purpose. Then, said he, this, Madam, is to try a man's Fidelity with a Witness, to expose him to pass part of the Night in such a place as this with a Lady so beautiful as you. Surely the Sultaness will henceforward rest assured of my Passion. The Count made a pause, expecting her answer, but not receiving a word from her, he proceeded, telling her, I thought we had not been so debarred the pleasures of an Assignation, but we might have enjoyed that of discourse; but for aught I perceive, you mean to follow the fashion of Turkey; & since 'tis a favour in this Country for a Woman to show herself, or speak to a Man, you will deprive me of the one and the other: But while we are together, I pray let us live after the mode of our Country, which is far better than the Turkish. To do otherwise with me, were altogether too rigorous, and more, I believe, than you have promised the Sultaness, or she expects at your hands. Away, I beseech you, said he, taking her by the Barnus, with this ufeless Hood, and do me the favour to tell me some News of the Sultaness; or if you please, of the Adventures brought, you hither, which from the day I first had the honour to see you, I have had an extreme longing to ask you: This you will not deny me, if you think I may be any way useful to you, as I doubt not but I may, being your Countryman, and so well esteemed by the Bassa, as to be able to do you some Service. All this Discourse so obliging for Laura, she heard, without replying a word, or quitting her Barnus, as he had desired. The Count seeing this, pressed her no further, but with more serious air said, if you desire, Madam, to pass the Evening in this manner, it will be very unfortunate for me; but I must comply. And removing a few paces from her, he went and sat him down in a corner of the Bower, where he continued a while without speaking a word. The fair Lady fetched a sigh, as if she had been displeased at his quitting her. The Count laying hold on that occasion to be even with her, took his turn of tormenting, in not answering her sighs. At last she came to him, took him by the Arm, and embraced him, with many grimaces, as if she would have turned all into ridicule. The Count fell a laughing, and said, Madam, I beseech you be satisfied with the Sacrifice I make to Love, without trying my patience any further; let us, if you please, have a little conversation, but answer me when I speak, for I do not love talking to myself. But all would not do; she laughed under her Hood, and took pleasure in vexing him. The Count at last growing impatient; This is too much, Madam, said he, and since you will needs laugh, I'll show you a trick shall make you speak in spite of your Heart; having said so, he took her in his Arms, and not being able to take off her Hood, he used some Familiarities with her, would have forced speech from a Maid of Laura's Discretion and Modesty: But the Lady was still silent, and so little concerned, that she scarce made any resistance. At which the Count was extremely surprised, and after all the esteem he had for Laura, apprehended there might be a design in the business, and that he was abused: Then it was he did all in his power to get sight of her through a little glimmering of light that came into the Bower. Did the Sultaness know, said he, the liberty you allow me, she would give you no thanks for your silence, or your being shy of affording me a sight of you, which it seems you do to give me occasion to attempt greater matters, and deny me small favours to grant me the principal. The fair Lady not able to defend herself longer, quitted her Barnus, and having escaped out of his hands, Ah, little Traitor, said she, is this the Fidelity you have promised me? Oh Heavens, Madam, said he, is it you? It was the Sultaness herself had taken Laura's place, and you may imagine what a pleasant surprise this was to the Count, who could not on the sudden otherwise express it than by his exclamations; and running after her (who fled not too fast) he overtook her at the Door of the Bower, and embracing her most tenderly, My dear Sultaness, said he the second time, is it you? Yes, answered she (suffering herself to be gently brought back into the Bower) it is I, who repent me already of what I have done for you who did not deserve it. Did you think me so simple, to expose into the hands of another, that which I hold most dear in the World? Do not I see how ill it is trusting of you? Your Constancy was very tottering; it was at least half overcome. And had Laura, the counterfeit Laura answered your offers, where would you have been? Never was Man more confounded than the Count at all these Reproaches: He made a free Confession, but excused himself by her carriage towards him, alleging it impossible for any Man to have withstood the attaques she had made. At last, he carried the Cause, all was accommodated, an Agreement made, and Love signed the Articles.  
To come in search of a Gallant (as the Sultaness had done) into a Garden where she knew her Husband was present, was an Adventure somewhat bold: And doubtless, there are many Women who will condemn her conduct as imprudent; but of those who are in Love there, are few, who being in her place, would not take the same course. The Bassa, though accompanied with a very Beautiful Person, passed away time somewhat worse than the Count: Chabania his Mistress had (besides Beauty) an excellent Wit, and a very taking carriage, which made her pass for the most charming Person in the Seraglio. The Bassa had formerly been deeply in Love with her; but Love for convenience is not very durable: Her Patron was not in an humour to Entertain her that Evening, and had not brought her with him into the Garden, but to serve for a pretence to colour other designs; she apprehended as much, as soon as she knew that Laura was in the Garden, which the Bassa unluckily told her, thinking he might satisfy her in that point, by letting her know that Laura was deeply in Love with Alexander, in whose company she was. But Chabania was so far from believing it, that she presently fancied Alexander to be no other than the Bassa's Confident in the affair, and that he had not brought Laura into the Garden but for his Master: she had been formerly jealous of him, even to distraction, and I know not how it came to pass the Bassa was so overseen, as not to have made choice of some other of his Women, who might have been more for his turn on this occasion: She was at her wits end for the small countenance he gave her; all the while he was with her she had scarcely fewer words from him, and saw clearly his thoughts were wholly of Laura. This was vexation enough for a Woman in Love, who knows herself handsome, and is high spirited withal. But that which put her into absolute despair, was, that the Bassa not able to obtain any truce from his jealousy, having spent some time in her company, without any caress, or giving her the least evidence of kindness, though she had more than once given him occasion to show it; told her, he had a longing desire to go hearken, and know how the Christians in the Bower entertained one another: she made him no answer, but letting him go, she the next minute after went another way towards the same Bower to observe the Bassa, and see what he did there.  
The Nights in that Country are very clear, especially in Summer: the Bassa, notwithstanding all the caution he had used to post himself securely near Alexander's quarter, under the favour of the Hedges that covered his approach, was perceived by the counterfeit Laura in the Bower. She had discovered him by his shadow, and having made her lover aware of it, he presently went out, and ran to meet the Bassa, to entreat him not to come any further, but permit him to enjoy that moment of pleasure he had been pleased to procure him. The Sultaness not knowing what wind had brought the Bassa to that side of the Garden, and fearing he would come into the Bower, would not be persuaded by any thing that Alexander could say to her, to stay after him in the Bower, but went presently out to hide herself in some corner of the Garden, where she thought she might be in better security.  
The mean time the jealous Bassa, confounded at the discovery, and having lost the opportunity of executing the design he had so unfortunately laid, suffered himself to be prevailed upon by the entreaties of his Rival, and returned towards his Bower, as Alexander to his; where being arrived, he was sufficiently amazed at missing the Sultaness, but thought she had fled away for fear, which troubled him extremely; but just as he was leaving the Bower to go in search of her, he saw in the furthest and most retired part of it, something that seemed to have the shape of a Woman: then going up thither, and finding he had not been mistaken, he fancied it only to be a trick of the Sultaness; this pleased him extremely, and passionately embracing her, Madam, said he, are not you very waggish? you would fain have made me run all about the Garden in search of you: She answered not a word, but getting out of his arms, she went away briskly, and withdrew into another corner of the Bower: the Count was surprised at this manner of proceeding, being not so gentle as he expected from the Sultaness, who loved him so tenderly; but to undeceive himself as soon as he could, and to find out the cause of so sudden a change, he went up to her the second time, and taking her by the hand; What may be the reason, Madam, said he, that you run away, and hide yourself from me? there is no fear of the Bassa; he is withdrawn to his quarter, and hath promised not to give us any further disturbance. But all this could not make her answer a word; so that not knowing what to think of this rigour, he kneeled on the ground where she was sitting on a seat of green Turf, and kissing her hand, prayed her for love's sake, to tell him the reason why she seemed angry with him; he courted and embraced her with great passion and tenderness, and she as patiently took it, but at last perceiving her laugh a laughter very different from that of the Sultaness, he examined her more nearly, and knew by the difference of her shape, and her clothes, that he was mistaken. It was inconceivable, what a trouble this put him in. He thought himself arrived in Fairy-land, to see the strangest sights in the World. That Laura had been changed into the Sultaness, was not so surprising as pleasant, but that the Sultaness should be turned into another Woman, and perhaps a Mistress of the Bassa's, this was the thing he could not comprehend: that which troubled him most, and extremely disquieted him, was the pain he was in, for not knowing what was become of the Sultaness; and the fear he had, the Bassa might have met her in the Garden, and known her: this moved him again to go out in search of her, but Chabania (for it was she he had mistaken for the Sultaness) held him fast by the sleeve, and stayed him, telling him in the Moors Language, it was not fit for him to quit in that manner a Lady for whom he had already expressed some affection. The Count understood not her language, prayed her to let him go for fear the Bassa should come, and be offended at his being with her. But all to no purpose, she no more understood his Italian, than he her Moresque, and was so far from letting him go, that she would have made him sit by her, that she might revenge herself on the Bassa for the slight he had put upon her. During this little contest, which could not but be somewhat extraordinary between two Persons who understood not one another, the Sultaness comes in quite out of breath, and throws herself half dead into the arms of Alexander, who happened to be in a place ready to receive her. What frightful fancies had he then in his head? He presently imagined they were utterly undone, and that she had been discovered. But the Bassa arriving presently after, set him right again in saying, you run away Madam, speaking to the counterfeit Laura, from a Person who wishes you no ill, nor intends you any; then turning towards Alexander, he was about to excuse himself to him for breaking his word, but seeing Chabania stand by him, he suddenly altered both his mind and his Language, ask her in Moresque what she was come thither for. She answered him aloud, and gave him a thousand reproaches for his unworthiness and weakness in quitting her, to follow a Slave that run away from him. This was a very rare Scene, and the Dialogue not a little pleasing to the Sultaness; but she had not long to laugh at it, for Chabania being vexed to the heart for the slight the Bassa had put upon her, and for what he had said to her before her pretended rival, flew like a Fury upon the Sultaness, with that promptitude and swiftness, that neither the Bassa, nor Alexander, who would have stayed her, were able to save the counterfeit Laura from being somewhat ill handled. The Count was touched to the quick at this outrage, and no consideration of life or of duty, could have prevented him from having satisfaction, had not his fear of losing the Sultaness prevailed more upon him than his resentment. The Bassa was as angry as he, and taking the enraged Chabania by the hand, he drew her somewhat rudely out of the Bower, and led her away.  
The Count was no sooner alone with the Sultaness, but embracing her tenderly, Madam, said he, with a passionate tone, what dangers have you gone through for love of me! what a cruel assault have you but now endured? The Sultaness did nothing but laugh at the last adventure she had been in, and told him she took more pleasure to see Chabania's despair, (for whom she had ever a natural aversion) than she had suffered of harm by her outrage and violence. But she confessed the same time, that she was in extreme perplexity when she met the Bassa ranging over the Garden in search of that Woman, and that it was the highest piece of good fortune imaginable, that she had her Barnus with her, to hide herself in. She added that her dear Husband had said to her a thousand gallant things, and had done also some things a little extraordinary; but that it was her good fortune to be not far from the Bower, and to make her escape: she told him further, that there remained no more doubt of the Bassa's being newly fallen in love with Laura, and that she was very well assured of it by the kindness of his expressions, and the transports she observed him in at this rencontre; that this was the true cause of all their alarms, and the reason why he brought him not into the Seraglio as formerly: The Count was of the same judgement, and both held it necessary to make good use of the occasion, and that Laura who was to act the principal part, should employ her best address and complaisance in their favour.  
The Bassa taking small pleasure in the Garden after the unhappy success of his amorous designs, having done his endeavour to pacify Chabania, would bring her back to her Lodgings, and passed by Alexander's Bower, to let him understand it was time to with draw. The Count followed him immediately, being extremely joyful to have come off so happily from a walk that had proved so full of adventures: He bore his dear Sultaness company into her Apartment, where he stayed not long for fear of the Bassa, but withdrew to his lodging. He passed the rest of the night very pleasantly, though he slept not at all; and the truth is, he had reason enough to be well pleased, though his Patron had not, who was more labouring under mortal afflictions: Laura, whom he now was more deeply in Love with than ever, put him in despair by her Rigours and Cruelties: if no more pity from her, than no more pleasure to be expected in his life. His great affection for Alexander could not keep him from being his rival, and wishing to share with him in the favours she did him. His passion was arrived at a point which is the highest of sufferings, that of not being loved: and when he thought of the opportunity he had let slip the night before, when he had Laura in his power, he was so cruelly vexed, he could have found in his heart to be revenged of himself: yet he had no great cause to blame his discretion, for he had done enough, and unless he would have driven his Gallantry to the last push of all, he could not have done more. He was not willing to declare himself to Alexander, nor acquaint him with the thoughts he had newly entertained, as well to prevent the displeasure he believed it would give him, as for that he conceived the Count might be of use to him in the design, and that the discovery might be to his prejudice.  
In the Morning as soon as he was up, he went (as he sometimes was used) to the Count's Chamber without any attendant, and found him in Bed: A Man, said he, must be as happy as Alexander in his Love, before he can sleep as quietly as he. If there be any, answered the Count, hath cause to commend his good fortune on that account, it must without doubt be a Person of your comeliness and Gallantry, who to gain love, need no more than say you are in love. Yes, replied the Bassa, with a smile, except it be to Laura, who hath made me very sensible that I can sigh to no purpose, and that the master of her person may not be the master of her heart; It was necessary that Alexander should come from Europe to afric to make that Conquest: This, Sir, replied the Count, may be an instance of the Vagaries and Extravagancies of Love, who often knows not where to fix, but follows the effects of destiny, or the Stars which are predominant over the affections. And I believe Sir, added he smiling, as for the Love of Laura, you are already very well satisfied, and so little concerned where she bestows it, that you never designed to make me in Love with her, that you might be my Rival. However, said he, observing the Bassa sigh, I assure you, should it so happen, you cannot do me a greater favour than in letting me know it. And you shall find that all the passion I can have for her, shall not hinder any performance of the duty I owe you. I will quit all my pretensions as I know you have the least design upon her, that I may prevent all dispute with a Person to whom I am so deeply obliged, that there can be nothing so dear to me, but I will part with it for your sake. Believe it Alexander, answered the Bassa, it is not so easy a matter to be disengaged from a passion like yours: you may as well persuade me, you cannot be in Love. I am certainly in Love, replied the Count, and it may be as deeply as possible; but having so many favours daily heaped on me from you, there is nothing in the World I shall Love more than your repose and satisfaction: And, Sir, if Laura appear now as amiable as formerly to you, I must tell you again, I love her no longer; so easy a matter was it for the subtle Italian to be generous in parting with that in which he was so little concerned. The Bassa asked him if he would say as much before Laura. He answered, he believed him too just and too gallant to desire him to make a declaration of that nature before one who had been his Mistress. At last the Bassa proposed another walk in the Garden that very day, and at the same time prayed him to write about it to Laura; which the Count having not been able to avoid, received this answer.  
The burnt child dreads the fire; we do not commonly expose ourselves twice to the same danger. The Bassa's usage of me last night, gives me small encouragement to trust him the second time. And you are an eye-witness how ill I was handled by her he had with him. Let it satisfy you, that if you come hither, I will have the honour to see you. But no more walking.  
The Bassa much troubled at so unexpected an answer, went out of the Count's Chamber without saying a word, and passed in solitude the rest of the day. But in the Evening he went to the Sultaness, where he presently met Laura; who enquiring of Alexander, and why he had not brought him with him; would it displease you, said the Bassa, if I supplied his place this Evening: that were too great an honour for me, replied Laura smiling, but the Sultaness expects you, and is not very well. The Bassa gave her his hand, and would have led her into a private Chamber; Laura perceiving it, and that he was in good earnest, Prayed him to let her go; that her Lady was not well, and he knew well enough she could not endure her being a moment out of her sight: I, I, replied the Bassa, the Sultaness is sick, and cannot be a moment without you; but 'tis because 'tis I desire to pass that moment with you; had it been Alexander you could have stayed a little longer. The Bassa said this with so pleasant a tone, she could not forbear laughing. You know Sir, replied she, 'tis another case when you are with the Sultaness. Besides Sir, added she smiling, one would venture a little for a Sweetheart: Well, well, said he, pressing her to go along with him, 'tis Love hath brought me hither: I, Sir, answered she striving to get away from him, and 'tis Love obliges me to avoid the occasion of being found alone in your company; for though I know you a most accomplished Person, you will allow me to tell you, you have not too much respect for our Sex, and 'tis very hard trusting you, witness your assaults last night in the Garden. the Bassa made her a thousand Oaths he would keep within the bounds of that respect and discretion she might expect from the severest virtue, and protested he desired only one quarter of an hours discourse. Laura, who knew the violence and obstinacy of his humour, when denied any thing he held reasonable to be granted him, disposed herself to entertain him that quarter of an hour. He reproached her a thousand times for her hardness and cruelty against him, and gave her withal the kindest words and the most tender and passionate expressions imaginable. Laura, to defend herself, pleaded her Honour, her Religion, and her Duty to the Sultaness her Mistress; three things she would not betray for the World: Had you but a little Love for me, said the Bassa with a sigh, you would not find so many reasons for defence. I have my Religion as you have yours, and the Precepts of it perhaps as severe as yours; but Love is stronger than all the Precepts, the Laws, the Religions of the World, and those who serve him, worship no other God. As for the Sultaness, how are you concerned, that is my business, not yours; and it shall be your fault, if ever she know it. But what do you tell me of Honour?  
Surely 'tis more for your Honour to love a Man as I am, than to love such a one as Alexander. You mistake yourself, Sir, answered Laura, if you think that in the visits he hath made me, there hath any thing passed contrary to my duty▪ 'Tis not with those of our Nation, as with the People of this Country: We may be together, and no body by, yet my Honour secure. I swear to you, Sir, Alexander never received that favour from me, which I could not afford the Person for whom I am the least concerned in the World. The Bassa interrupted her; what, not in the Garden? Neither in the Garden nor any where else, replied she, had he ever any other advantage than a sight of me, which with us is accounted for nothing. Can you make me believe, answered the Bassa, what you say? Laura told him, there was nothing more true, and he might rest assured of it: But Sir, said she, for your better satisfaction, bring him no more hither, and you shall see whether I make my complaint for it: 'Twere pity, replied the Bassa, to destroy so fair a friendship; and I do protest to you, that were it in my power, I would give you no trouble, but I am not so much Master of myself, to gain this point on my heart, to be unconcerned in your Love: But since you love Alexander with so much indifference, that you can so easily resolve not to see him more, I have no cause to afflict myself, but rather to hope you may one day love me perhaps as much as you do him.  
After these words the Bassa retired, with a heart a little better at ease than when he came in, but as deeply in Love as before. He gave not an entire and firm credit to what Laura had told him of her indifference and small concernment for Alexander, but did believe her passion for the Christian not so great as he had imagined, or that their Love had been cooled by some quarrel, for he had observed on the one side and the other, more indifference than is usually consistent with that passion.  
But then reflecting suddenly on himself, may not this be (said he, resuming his jealousy and diffidence,) an effect of their policy? may they not be agreed to deceive me? and being already sufficiently assured of one another's affections, may they not pretend they have no Love for one another, that they may Love one another with greater security? No, no, adds he, this cannot be, there is no hiding of Love, it will appear if not smothered to death: She love not Alexander at all, or loves him but indifferently; thus he the more easily persuaded himself to be so, in that he did most passionately desire it might be so; and thenceforward his passion increased so fast, it became greater than ever. Hope being a passion that more than any other foments that of Love, easily promises itself happy events, and flatters itself with expectation of good fortune and success.  
Laura gave the Sultaness an account of all the pleasant discourse; and the Sultaness could have wished Laura had not been altogether so severe to the Bassa, but a little more kind and complaisant, without which she thought they could not see Alexander so often as she desired. Laura on the contrary told her, that to have been complaisant, would have spoiled all, for that the Bassa would then have entertained some hopes of favour from her, and so become more amorous than before, and consequently more jealous of his supposed Rival than ever. What shall I do then, said the poor Sultaness, who can do nothing but fear, and cannot expect any thing but crosses and misfortunes? Laura told her, things were not in so desperate a condition, that she need trouble herself for it, for the Bassa had promised to send Alexander on the morrow, and that they would consider with him how to order their business.  
The Count did not know that the Bassa had been with the Sultaness; but having not heard from him that day, he went on the morrow to wait on him at his rising. He found him a-bed, so dejected and melancholy, that he might by his countenance easily discover the heaviness of his heart. Yet he received him with that air of kindness and friendship might well assure the Count, he was not displeased with him. The Bassa was silent a while, and then looking on the Count with an air of friendship and confidence; Alexander, said he, I am the most unfortunate of men, especially, in Love. Laura, added he, sighing, the cruel Laura hath not the least tenderness for me; no, not the least pity for the torments she sees me suffer for her: and unless you will be a little kind to me, I know not what will become of me. Ah Sir, answered the Count, let me but know what you desire of me, and what I can do for you: you know it is not in my power to dispose of others hearts; but if I may contribute to your satisfaction; if you would have me speak to her; if— How happy should I be, said the Bassa, interrupting him, would you do what you can. Sir, replied the Count, if it depend upon me, you may promise yourself success. The Bassa held his peace for a little time, as if he studied what to say; but Alexander pressing him to declare himself, he told him with some trouble, that he should appoint an assignation with Laura in a Chamber, in the Apartment of-the Sultaness, where the Bassa might meet her in his stead. The Proposal was so unworthy and unfit for Alexander to consent to, that it astonished him on the sudden so extremely, that having blushed at it very much, he knew not what answer to make. The Bassa observed the disorder he was in, and was more out of countenance at it than the Count; but for fear he should interpret it otherwise than intended, and taking his blushing for no very good Omen, he told him, (to be rid of him) that he might go think of it, and that if he gave him any answer, it should be a favourable one.  
The Count went out of the Chamber, and made a thousand reflections on his ill Fortune, which had reduced him to the extremity of making him serve such a person; not but that he was fully persuaded, Laura would not come, and that he should be little concerned, though she should entertain the motion, and favour the passion of his amorous Patron: but besides the baseness of the employment he put him upon, he was mad to think he took him for such a Villain, that loving a Maid, as the Bassa believed he did Laura, could betray her so basely. This was the only thing troubled him, nor would he have done it, though he died for it.  
The Bassa having seen him leave his Chamber in that manner, thought there was small hope of effecting his design that way; yet being a person of great reason and worth, he was so far from thinking the worse of the Count, or being offended with him on this occasion, that he esteemed of him the better, and considered of other means to gain satisfaction to his love in the enjoyment of Laura. His passion was now arrived at a height beyond the power of reason to manage, and capable to put him on any enterprise whatever. The most virtuous of men when changed into a desperate Lover, become the most furious and extravagant of all; being so much more sensible of slights put upon him, as he conceives himself a person of merit.  
This transported Lover having failed of his design to make Alexander of his Party, to serve his ends in a Proposal that included Treachery, resolved to deceive Laura himself, by going to see her that night disguised as an Eunuch. The design was not very well laid, but it took, as shall appear by the sequel. He had not the patience to stay till his ordinary hour of going to the Sultaness; but as soon as 'twas night, he went away disguised like an Eunuch, and came to the apartment, where he found one old Moor at the gate, who not taking so much notice of him as to know him, he sent her to Laura, to tell her that an Eunuch of her acquaintance desired to speak with her in the Chamber of repose; so called because it was retired, and far from noise, and the place where they used to take some hours rest after dinner in Summer. He made choice of this Chamber as the most proper for his design; and the old Woman was no sooner gone about her message, but he went to hide him there. Laura was then busy, and the Sultaness having casually met the old Woman in search of Laura, asked her, what she would have with her? the old Woman having had no order to keep private her business, told her freely, there was an Eunuch desired to speak with her in the Chamber of Repose. The Sultaness hearing of an Eunuch who would speak with Laura, made no question at all but Alexander was the Man; and without further enquiry what kind of Man the Eunuch was, or any other consideration, she takes Laura's Barnus, and goes to the place of assignation; had she made the least reflection on the message, she could not have been so deceived, nor have exposed herself so easily to the danger she went into. It was not the custom of her Gallant to use her thus, or to see her any where but in the Alcove-chamber; he scarce knew the name of the Chamber where she was told he stayed for Laura, and knowing what she did of the Bassa, she had reason to mistrust him. But those who are in Love as the Sultaness was, are subject to greater oversights than these. She knew that Alexander was not to see her but by night, yet she waited for him from the first moment she awoke in the morning; and in this amorous expectation, which tantalized her extremely, and kept her in a mortal inquietude whether he came or came not, there needed no help to hurry her away when the time drew near. Women who have been in Love, will easily confess there is nothing so hard as to be prudent on such occasions, and that the name of their Gallant when expected, hath made them start up for joy, and run to meet him e'er they knew whether he were come.  
The passionate Sultaness having given up herself to be led blindfold, where she thought Love waited for her, borrowed wings of that God to carry her the sooner into that Chamber; there was not any light there, but this did not surprise her, it being not usual to place any in that Chamber. She pleased herself with the fancy of putting a Love-trick on Alexander, by making him take her once more for Laura; this made her resolve to be silent a while, as she had been in the Garden, and to divert herself that way. But as she was entering, she was taken with a shivering all over, and such a sudden fear, that she was on the point of going back again. But the Gallant who waited for her, having taken her by the Hand, she began to recollect herself, and went along with him where he pleased: he led her away to the further end of the Chamber, where he was so loath to lose time for making use of the occasion, that embracing her with some transport, though trembling withal, he had almost put it out of her power to defend herself. The Sultaness thinking this action too violent to be Alexander's, began to mistrust; and having given him his liberty till then, she did the utmost in her power to resist him, and knew, though a little too late, that she was abused, and that this Man had neither the shape, nor the stature, nor face of her Alexander, and that it must be the Bassa, which some marks she knew about him, soon put out of question, she changed her method, and stood upon her guard. The resistance she made after the kindness she expressed at the first, was observed by the Gallant, and made him perceive that the cheat was discovered, and no hopes of hiding himself. So that without further dallying he made his last efforts, and rendered those of the Sultaness so useless, that he obtained his design. This transported Lover was happy at least in conceit, which sufficiently proves the power of imagination, and that our greatest pleasures proceed from it. I am sure, there is no unfortunate Lover but may envy his mistake, and that chance could not put a greater obligation on any Man, than this on the Bassa. His passion thus satisfied, he withdrew, without saying a word, and the Lady made all the haste she could to her Chamber, for fear the passionate Bassa should renew the assault. Laura who had been much troubled at missing of her, was no less amazed to see her come in the condition she was in, which made her throw herself on the Bed; where half weeping, half laughing, she told her the story of the adventure: At which Laura did nothing but laugh, expecting very pleasant conclusions from so comical beginnings.  
The Count had been at the Bassa's in the Evening, and not finding him within, came on the Morrow to acquaint him with the resolution he had taken on the proposal. As he entered the apartment, he was told that the Bassa had been ill that night, and had not slept at all, and that he had forbidden any entrance into his Chamber; but the Count having more privilege than others, they let him pass, and he found him a-bed, and writing with so sad a mien, and so dejected a countenance, that the Count presently concluded he had had a very ill night; seeing Alexander on the sudden, he coloured a little; but the Count laying one knee to the ground, I come, Sir, said he, to beg one favour more of you: You are the principal Author of all the Love I am engaged in; it is my misfortune that you feel the same passion. Accept, I beseech you, the sacrifice I make you Sir, I will never love, and if you will have it so, I will never see Laura more. Bless me! cried the Bassa, what Lovers are these! is it possible that two persons who began to love one another with so tender affection, can part with such ease? and that I, who am not beloved, cannot bring myself to this: speak Alexander, and tell me whether it proceeds from any distaste you have taken, or that you do it for my sake. No Sir, answered the Count, Laura is this day as amiable in my eyes as the first day I saw her; but rather than see you in the condition I find you in, I will not spare the doing myself any violence I am capable of; and for your quiet and my own, I heartily wish. I never had seen her. This example is so rare, replied the Bassa, that nothing less than the esteem I have for you, can make it credible. In the mean time this Billet will let you see, that I have not stayed for you to set me a Precedent, but that I know in my turn how to give Precedents for others to imitate, but not to outdo. It is written to Laura, read it: And there it will appear to you, that if I have done you wrong, I know how to punish myself for it. I should be heartily sorry, so virtuous and excellent a person as you, should part from us, with an ill opinion of me. The Count extremely surprised at this discourse, not comprehending the reason of it, after an answer full of respect and acknowledgement to his dear Patron, took the Billet, and there read these words.  
If all the passion Man can have for a Woman, is not capable to justify the crime I committed against you, you ought to pardon me, at least having suffered in one night all the torments and afflictions of a cruel repentance, which yet fills my soul with grief and confusion. And if by giving you and your Lover your Liberty, I may in some measure make amends for my faults, you may make you ready for your voyage, for to morrow morning you shall go both together. Farewell, and think of the violence I did myself, in forcing from my bosom two persons, whom of all I ever saw, I loved most entirely, and then you will find me not altogether unworthy of pardon.  
The Count was so confounded at reading the Billet, as never was Man, and had much ado to hide the disorder it put him in; he kneeled the second time, as it were to give the Bassa thanks for this last favour, which before his engagement in Love with the Sultaness, had been the greatest he could have done him; but now after his passion, it was certainly the greatest misfortune could befall him. He was willing by this action to hide from the Bassa the trouble he was in. But the Bassa took him up, and told him, he could not see him in that posture, for a business where he had more cause to complain of him, than to thank him, that he should know at leisure the whole matter from Laura, and that in the mean time he had nothing to do but prepare for his voyage; that he had given order to stay a Christian Vessel, which should have gone off that very day for Italy, and should land them at Legorn; that the weather was fair, and that without fail he should embark with Laura on the morrow: for all which he gave him his word.  
The Count having taken leave of the Bassa, went out of the Chamber with a heart so full of trouble and affliction, for the News he had received, that he wanted a more proper place to comfort himself, and to vent his thoughts of the resolution the Bassa had taken to give him his Liberty, and to send Laura with him. He knew not what might have obliged him to a resolution of this nature, though upon reading the Billet, he did imagine, the Bassa had committed some outrage on Laura; but this was not the thing troubled him; it was the Sultaness, from whom he must part, and must bid her adieu for ever: to part with a Woman one loved so tenderly, to part with her for ever, and to part with her in the height of his passion, sounds very harsh, and where is the Lover could take such a resolution for any reason whatever? Yet Liberty, which to a Man who knows what 'tis to be a Slave, to a Man of Alexander's quality, is a thing so attractive; to return to his Country after eight or nine months' absence; the pleasure of Rome, and the consideration that if he lost this opportunity, he might perhaps never have such another; all this, I say, made such a Party, that the most beautiful, and most charming Lady in the World, could not have hindered many excellent persons from quitting hers to take it. But true Love which values nothing above its own satisfaction, slights a liberty to be bought with too many tears: yet in this conjuncture, it was almost impossible for Alexander to refuse this cruel liberty, being all he could in appearance desire, and bestowed on him by the Bassa, with a Mistress with whom he believed him passionately in love. What reason could he find to refuse such a Present which had cost the Bassa so dear, and aught to be the most acceptable to him? He despaired to find any, and saw clearly there was a necessity of parting, unless Love, favourable to Lovers in extremity, would come to his aid, and make the Bassa alter his resolution, as they commonly do who take any against Love; never did Slave pay more Vows to be delivered from his Chain, than he did for the continuance of his Captivity, choosing rather to be a Slave the rest of his Life, than to be for ever removed to such a distance from that which he loved a thousand times more than his Liberty.  
The Bassa having passed some hours after in his Bed, to muse upon the resolution he had taken, which he adhered to, though it made his heart ache, called for his Aga, and gave him orders for the departure of the two Christians, causing store of Provisions, and very rich Presents to be carried on board the Vessel; this done he sent his chief Eunuch to the Sultaness his Wife, to entreat her to give Laura her Liberty, whom he was minded to send home to her Country, together with Alexander, for reasons of importance to her, as of necessity for him, and for the ease and repose of one and the other. Having given these orders, and the same time sent the Letter he had written to Laura, he took Horse for Bardou, one of his Houses of Pleasure, a mile from the Town, and stayed there till midnight, having all that time walked alone in the Gardens, to wean himself from the sight and company of Alexander, and the pleasure he took in Laura's discourse.  
That night the Bassa could not sleep, and in the Morning his Aga being come to bring him an answer from the Sultaness, as to his request for giving Laura her Liberty; he went presently to carry it to Alexander, whom he found in appearance ready to be gone, but in truth never less disposed, but hoping every moment some change of resolution in the Bassa. Ah, Alexander, said he, we must part, but I know not how we shall; for the Sultaness who loves Laura with the same affection I do you, notwithstanding my representing to her how much she was concerned in interest to have us part, and to desire it as much as I, cannot resolve upon it, but hath sent me word this Morning she will sooner lose her Life than her Laura. You must go see Laura, and tell her, 'twill be her fault if she be not free, and go along with you; for as for me, what I have promised I will perform. In the mean time I will give order that the Vessel be stayed longer, that it may not sail without you. Sir, answered Alexander, there are frequent opportunities of Transportation, and when you have given some longer time to satisfy the Sultaness, and dispose her to grant Laura this favour, our obligation then will not be less for our Liberty you are now pleased to grant us. Alexander, replied the Bassa, resolutions like that I have now taken in your favour, go so much against the grain of a heart affected as mine, that delays may be dangerous, and time may make them falter: make use of the good motions reason and equity have inspired into me. I do not tell you my thoughts are unalterable. The spite I have against my heart for its weakness, the outrage I did Laura yesterday; my shame to appear before her after it, and the small hopes I have of gaining her Love, are the true causes of your good fortune: All this is yet fresh in my mind; stay not till time deface these impressions, there being nothing men are apt so soon to forget, as the injuries they had done to others.  
As they were discoursing together, a huge Moor who served as Purveyor for the Count, and brought him every Morning his Provision from the Seraglio, came on the sudden into the Chamber with a great Basket on his head, not thinking (without doubt) of the Bassa's being there. The Moor started at the sight of him, would have gone back, but the Bassa with his hand made signs for him to stay; he obeyed, and laid the Basket on the ground, which appeared very heavy, and so he withdrew; the Bassa, of pure curiosity to see what they had sent Alexander to eat, bid a Moor, who waited in the Room, take up the Basket lid, which he did, and found the Provision to be a Woman very pleasantly tucked up and muffled in her Barnus that she might not be known. But being in the Habit of a Christian (which the Bassa and Alexander had formerly seen Laura in) they made no doubt but it was she. The Bassa at first was very much surprised, but then fell a laughing, and said to the Count, the Invention is rare, and that she had far more wit than the Women of that Country; but this is a product of Love the Father of Inventions. However, 'tis certain nothing could have been done more proper for our design: But shall not we see, said he, all your Provision? Madam, you are here between the two best Friends you have in the World, and you have no reason to be shy of showing yourself; having said this, he drew near to the Lady, and would have taken her by the arm to help her to rise, but she refused and thrust him back. I see Madam, said he, you have not yet granted me the pardon I begged of you. I confess the offence was too great to be so quickly forgiven; but you are taking your leave, and it is not fit we should part without being friends; for it would be a perpetual grief to me, to see you leave this Country with hatred in your heart. Deny not this favour (added he, reaching forth his hand) to a man reduced to despair for having offended you, and punishing himself so severely for the fault, that there is no need of this extreme curelty from you. But all he spoke was in vain, for she hid herself more closely, and fortified herself in the Basket to prevent being seen. The Bassa was unwilling to press her any further, but addressing himself to Alexander, told him, it was his part to make peace, and to prevail with Laura to let him see her once more being the last time: The Count took it ill that she made so shy of showing herself to a Person to whom she was too much obliged, to deny him his request in such a conjuncture, what cause soever she might have had of quarrel against him. Besides, he was particularly concerned to press her to show herself; for the last refuge he had, was his hope that the Bassa's cenderness for her, would perhaps at the moment of parting take fire afresh, and make him change his resolution; with these thoughts he went to her, and gave her all the reasons he could invent to be reconciled to the Bassa, and let him see her a moment; but all to no purpose. He had not one word of answer, which angered him so, that having taken her twice or thrice by the arm to make her rise, he was just going to force up her Barnus, and threatened to do it; but the Bassa would not suffer it, bidding him force her no further; that she had cause enough to complain, without doing her new violence for love of him. But, says he, let us make use of the time, and since she is brought hither to our hands, and you have no more to do but embark, let us finish what we have begun, and perform what we have undertaken, there never can be a fairer opportunity; and I cannot think that Laura will be sorry to leave such a Country as this, or part with us to go along with you. The Sultaness in all probability is yet asleep, let us not stay till she awake. We must presently carry Laura (as she is in the Basket) into the Ship: you shall bear her company, and as soon as you arrive, you shall hoist sail and away; as for me, I will pass the rest of the day at Bardou, and give out such orders as may be necessary, that in case the Sultaness miss Laura, and find she is escaped, you may not be stayed. Having said this, he sent a Moor to the Port, with order to have a Shallop in readiness to carry Laura and Alexander aboard the Christian Vessel riding at Gouletta. This done, he sent for the Captain of his Guards, and bid him accompany the Count, and commend the care of that Basket to the Moors who were to carry it along. Having given these orders, he had no more to do, but bid his dear Alexander adieu; and having embraced him with tears in his eyes, he bore him company to the Shallop, and from thence went to Bardou with a heart full of grief. The poor Count was more to be pitied: He was not much concerned to express how sorry he was to part with the Bassa; but as for the Sultaness, whom he could have wished to have seen once more at least, his trouble to leave her was so great, that he felt not the grief he should have showed when he bid the Bassa adieu, who had so highly obliged him. When he saw he must part, and no hopes of seeing her, his heart was so full he could not speak a word; the tears ran down his cheeks, which much moved the good Bassa, who thought they were shed for him, and was not displeased to see himself outdone by a Man who was not ungrateful, and cordially loved him: At last he saw him embarked, and bid him the last adieu. The afflicted Count was so oppressed with grief, that from the Haven to Gouletta, having given his heart a little more liberty than he durst have done in presence of the Bassa, he let fall such lamentable expressions, looking towards the Town, that the Captain of the Guard, and the rest that accompanied him, were extremely astonished, and moved to compassion. By good luck they understood not Italian, but his gestures, his tears, his looks, and the colour of his countenance expressed an unparallelled trouble and affliction.  
He no sooner got aboard the Ship, but he threw himself on a Bed, and was so much beside himself, that he did not as much as think of his Basket; but the Captain of the Guard had eased him of that care, and caused it to be carried into his cabin; after which he took leave of him, and having commanded the Captain of the Vessel to hoist up his Sails, he went into the Shallop and returned to Tunis; then was it that Alexander finding himself alone in his cabin, abandoned himself to the torment of his grief. Ah Fate, said he, unjust Fate, what have I done that you use me so cruelly, that you force me away from a Person without whom I cannot live. Ah my Sultaness, dear Sultaness, must I leave you, must I absent myself from you for ever? For ever, said he again rising up: Ah Heavens! let me rather be set ashore, I shall find pretence enough with the Bassa; let me rather trust Love than Fortune, she hath betrayed me: Whatever happen I must die, and I had rather die at her feet whom I love, than at this cruel distance Having said this, he went to see if they were still at Anchor, but found they were already a great way from Land, and sailing with a favourable wind, had almost lost sight of Gouletta. What despair was he in? Ah my heart, said he, there is no remedy, now I must perish. Dear Sultaness, added he, taking his Sword in his hand, see whether I am guilty of this absence, and receive the Sacrifice I make you of my Life; with that he drew his Sword, and was going to thrust himself through, when on a sudden the Person in the Basket, who had thus far harkened to all he had said, threw herself upon him to prevent further mischief. Let me alone to finish a Life which cannot but be unhappy at this distance from all that I love. Ah dear Alexander, answered the Lady, embracing him with all tenderness, her joy not permitting her to say any more. The Count finding immediately (notwithstanding the trouble and transport he was in) some difference between this voice and Laura's, looked behind him on the Lady who held him in her arms: But what an astonishment, what a charming surprise was it for a heart like his, and in the condition he was in, to see that it was the Sultaness herself?   

THE HAPPY SLAVE.  
The Second Part.  
OH Heavens! Is it you, Madam, cried the Fortunate Lover? Is it you? says he again, overwhelmed with a full Tide of Joy, flowing so fast it had almost made him speechless; may I believe that I see you the moment I thought I had utterly lost you? Oh happiness unparallelled and beyond expectation! But, Madam, direct me, I beseech you, where to pay my Devotion; am I obliged to Love, or to Fortune? Your thanks are due, dear Alexander, said the Sultaness, for the Design, to Love; and to Fortune, for the Success.  
The Happy Lover extremely amazed at so surprising an Adventure, found in himself so sudden an alteration from the depth of Grief to the height of Joy, that to enjoy more fully the present pleasure of so blessed a change, he thought his moments too precious to be employed in satisfying the curiosity of knowing by what means he was so unexpectedly arrived at so complete a Felicity. The Vessel under sail with a favourable gale rendered them as secure as Mortals can be on an Element where the Winds are in a manner Master of our Lives as well as Resolutions. The Happy Lovers lost not the advantage of the Season to enjoy one another with as much pleasure and satisfaction as prosperous Love is capable of.  
The Captain of the Bassa's Guards being arrived at Tunis, took Horse, and soon got to Bardou, where he found his Master walking alone in the Garden, and gave him an account of the departure of Alexander. The Bassa, like a man dejected and disconsolate, having lift up his Eyes and Hands to Heaven, without saying a word, withdrew into a Marble Bower in the midst of the Garden, where he continued all that day, having given his Guards express Orders not to permit any Person whatever to come near him; hoping thus to free himself from the importunity he feared from the Sultaness, on Laura's account. His Servants and Guards were much surprised at these Orders, not knowing what might be the cause of his displeasure, unless it were that Alexander was gone.  
In the Evening arrived at Bardou a Spahie, who brought him a Letter, and was followed by another, and he by a third, who all came to speak with him on business of extreme haste and importance; but being acquainted with the Orders he had given, they durst pass no further, but resolved to wait his coming out of the Bower.  
The Turks observe exactly the Orders of their Masters; but Aly the Captain of the Guard, gathering from the number of Couriers the importance of their business, thought it his Duty to step to the Town, being but three Miles distant, to learn what the matter was, and getting presently on Horseback, went directly to the General of the Galleys, being one of them who had dispatched the Spahies. The General sent him instantly back, with strict Order to speak with the Bassa, and tell him, that to oppose the designs his Enemies had against his Life, his presence was absolutely necessary at Tunis; Aly, who apprehended the consequence of the affair, made no scruple (when returned to Bardou) to present himself before his Master; who extremely enraged to see his Orders broke first by him, would neither hear him, nor receive the Letter he would have delivered him from the General of the Galleys. But locking himself up, past his time till the fourth Prayer, when he took Horse to return to the Town. By the way he received Letters from several, but thinking they came from the Sultaness, or some of her party, he opened not one of them.  
The General of the Galleys astonished not to see him come, after News sent him what was Plotting against him, resolved to go in Person to see what stayed him at Bardou, and by the way met him. The Bassa seeing him come with a very large Train, asked him smiling, if he thought he had been Besieged, that he came to meet him with so numerous a Party. You are pleasant, Sir, answered the General; but I wish we stand not in need of far greater Forces before we come to Tunis. The Bassa observing him to speak in good earnest, fixed his Eye upon him a while without speaking a word, than asked him, what need there could be of the Forces he mentioned; and (with Indignation) what, says, he, will they Assault me for love of the Sultaness? Do not you think, Sir, replied the General, there is reason enough for't? Can you believe that a Prince like the Dey, your Mortal Enemy (but from the Teeth outwards) can brook the injury you have done him, who loves the Sultaness his Daughter better than his Life? What injury, said the Bassa? What injury, replied the General? An injury, than which, in my Opinion, a greater could not have been offered. What, answers the Bassa, interrupting him, will they dispute my Power to set two of my Slaves at liberty at my pleasure? No, Sir, said the General, no question is made of your Right or Power in the particular you mention; but the Sultaness was not your Slave, and unless you designed to engage in a new Civil War, not only the Rules of Honour, Justice, and Religion, but the Maxims of good Polity, should have prevailed with you, not to deliver her into the hands of a Christian, than which a greater misfortune cannot befall a Woman of our Religion. The Bassa thought this Discourse so extravagant, that he burst out a laughing, and gave him no other answer, but that he had taken the Alarm too soon. The General being moved, replied with some heat, you know me too well to think me concerned at that you reproach me with; but when you come to Tunis, you shall judge if I had not cause to take the Alarm. If the Dey, answered the Bassa, design a breach with me, he will find a better pretence than you speak of. True it is, I have sent away Laura with Alexander the Christian, without the consent of the Sultaness; but there were reasons for it, and such as the Sultaness of all Persons living had most cause to approve. The General of the Galleys did verily believe the Bassa was seriously bend upon raillery, and willing to keep that as a secret which all the World knew; which he took in ill part, and had not spoke a word more on that subject, had not the Bassa continued the Discourse. But, Sir, said the General, interrupting him, what pleasure can you take in endeavouring to conceal from me (one of your best Servants and Friends) a business so notorious to all? Every body knows Laura is in your Seraglio, and that the Sultaness is embarked with Alexander. Not to mince the matter, I must tell you, the general voice is, that for Love of this Slave, you have rid your hands of the Sultaness and Alexander, and that you design to Marry Laura, though a Christian. But give me leave to tell you, that besides the novelty of the thing (the like having never happened in this Kingdom) not only the Dey and Divan will oppose it, but your Friends, will to their power obstruct it, and prevent it if they can; and I dare undertake, you will scarce find a Person of your side.  
The Bassa hearing him speak in this manner, thought him distracted, and would have used him accordingly, but restrained by the Friendship he had for him; Laura, says he, whom I saw carried in a Basket, whom I accompanied to the Port (where they put her aboard a Shallop) whom the Captain of my Guard conducted to the Vessel in which she was Embarked, and he saw under sail, this Laura is in my Seraglio, and I am to Marry her. Sir, answered the General, did I not know you very well, and were fully persuaded of the good esteem you are pleased to Honour me withal, I should not know what to think of your Discourse; for it cannot be but you know the whole Affair better than any Man. But to end the Dispute, let us go to your Palace, where you shall see whether it be Laura or the Sultaness that is there.  
It was not long ere they arrived at the Palace. The Bassa, who took all that the General had said to be fabulous and vain, would not so much as have sent to the Seraglio to know how things stood, thinking it foolery to doubt of the Sultaness being there. However in complaisance, and by way of raillery, he ordered Aly to wait on the Sultaness, and to Compliment her for him, upon the displeasure she took for the departure of Laura.  
The Captain of the Guard not fancying his Master ignorant of what was past, took his Order for a mere matter of Address, and a colour only to hide the truth of what he would have concealed; and approve himself able to manage the intrigue, as one who could penetrate into the desires of the Person who employed him, he went to the Seraglio, where he presently learned what he formerly knew, that 'twas Laura was there; and returning to the Bassa, made him a civil answer as from the Sultaness. This put the General into very great disorder, and gave the Bassa new occasion to laugh, telling him, he did not understand the design of the Dey, in raising those Reports to procure him the ill will of his Friends, and hatred of People, and renew their former broils with greater violence than ever; but that he should find the means to bring him to Reason, and that in the first place, he would expose the Sultaness to view of all the People, and then send her home to the Dey,— to let him see how unwilling he was to have any Alliance with a man who made it his business to find occasions to ruin him.  
As they were Discoursing, they heard a great noise on the sudden in the Palace, followed by Volleys of Musquet-shot, and People crying, to Arms, to Arms. The Bassa went presently out of his Chamber to see what the matter was, and met Aly coming to tell him, that the Palace was invested on all sides, and that an attempt had been made to enter it by force, but that he had beat them back with ten or twelve Soldiers of the Guard, who by good Fortune happened to be with him. The Bassa, of all men the least subject to fear, and of a ready Wit, and admirable Judgement in the most surprising occasions, knowing himself destitute then of Forces to make any resistance, and hearing them threaten to set fire on the Palace if the Gate were not opened, ordered they should cry out at the Windows that the Gate should be opened, that those who had begirt the Palace round, and were, for the most part, drawn thither with hopes of Plunder, might run all to the Gate, and give him opportunity to make his escape another way.  
This Stratagem took according to his desire, and he made his escape by a private way form his Enemies, who had showed him no Mercy had he fallen into their hands. But he, with the General of the Galleys, and Captain of the Guard, got safe to the Mountains, Inhabited by the Moors, who had great love for him. He no sooner gave them notice of the need he had of their help, but they came to him that Night, so that by break of day he found himself at the Head of 8000 Men, Armed some with Muskets, some with Pikes, both equally useful to them.  
Poor Laura was alone, abandoned to the Mercy of this Popular Torrent, who having pillaged in a moment that Rich and Sumptuous Palace, without respect to the place or the Sex, entered the Seraglio by Order from the Dey, and took out thence the unfortunate Slave, leaving the rest exposed to the will of the Rabble. It was Laura's good Fortune, that he who had the Commission to take her, was a Person of great honesty and worth, a private Friend of the Bassa, and one who expressed as much respect for her as she could wish in such a Conjuncture. She was carried to the Castle, where she was committed to the same Officers Custody, being a Secretary, and generally esteemed by all the Divan. And being the only Person could speak to her without danger of being heard, he confidently told her the first time he saw her, that the Bassa, whose Conduct till then appeared admirable, had committed a fact no less difficult to be repaired, than generally condemned by the best of his Friends, but that he feared the greatest smart would be hers. The poor Slave sufficiently Alarmed by seeing herself forced out of the Bassa's Seraglio, and made the Dey's Prisoner, was frighted much more by the Discourse of this Turk, who appeared to her a very credible Person; she prayed him for Heaven's sake to tell her what the matter was, what fault the Bassa had committed, and how she was concerned in it, that she must be thus handled? If you are ignorant of the passages this day, answered the Secretary, I will let you know them.  
I believe, continues he, that you know Chabania, or at least have heard talk of her, all the World is convinced of the Malignity of her Nature, and illness of Disposition: But to the business in hand; that which she affirms, is grounded on Proofs so pregnant, and Reasons so clear, that her Malice hath compassed the effect she desired. Whether she was jealous of you, or in disgust with the Bassa I know not, but she is the cause of the disorder you have seen; which, if not remedied, may prove the ruin of the Kingdom: The Dey was at Chess when word was brought him, that a Lady from the Bassa's Seraglio desired to speak with him on business of great importance. Instantly he quitted his Game, and retiring into a Chamber to give the Woman Audience, he sees Chabania enter, attended with her Eunuches who Ushered her, who falling before him on her knees, spoke to this purpose. Sir, I bring you News, which doubtless will trouble you. But if I deserve Death for not being able to endure an injury done to your Royal Blood, and the whole Nation, without giving you Advertisement, I am content to suffer for it, having the satisfaction to see you Revenge the wrong has been done you, which is, that your Daughter is gone, that she is delivered over into the hands of that Christian who sailed away this Morning, and that a pitiful Slave is to succeed in her place, to the infinite dishonour of your Highness and the Nation. Take your Revenge of the Author of this disorder, and execute that Justice which you ought against so cruel an attempt, acted to the dishonour of God, the injury of your Blood, and dishonour of your Country. Scarce had she made an end, but the Dey inflamed with Anger, and extremely enraged, called in those who had waited in the Antichamber, and scarce able to speak for the Passion he was in, made Chabania repeat before them all that she had said to him. It unhappily fell out that all who were there, were Enemies to the Bassa, and instead of appeasing the Dey, took the present occasion to animate and encourage him to get satisfaction for so cruel an outrage. Women and Eunuches were sent from the Dey to the Bassa's Seraglio, on purpose to know the truth and particulars of this Affair, who made their report, that the Sultaness was not there, that no body knew what was become of her, and that you only were able to give us any news of her. A Messenger was presently dispatched to Gouletta, to inquire at the Castle, if there were not a Woman in the Christian Vessel that sailed away this Morning; the answer he gave was, that the Vessel was sailed away without being searched, and that the Bassa had sent order to that purpose by the Captain of his Guards, who accompanied the Christian aboard the Ship. These Circumstances so clear and apparent, did but too much confirm what Chabania had said. Hereupon divers Councils were held; and the Assembly consisting of Persons illaffected to the Bassa, or at least too Zealous for the Dey, the Result was, that Revenge should be taken. I cannot conceive how it was possible the Bassa had no news what passed, the report having been presently noised over the Town. It was designed he should be surprised at Bardou, where it was believed he would have lain this Night. But News being brought, that he was on his way hither, the Dey's Aga had Order, if denied entrance, to set upon the Palace, and seize his Person living or dead. And I at the same time was to go to the Seraglio, and to carry you away. They missed of him, and it was well for you he escaped; for had he been taken, both he and you had been by this time dead. But having so luckily made his escape, and being Master of the Militia and Moors of the Kingdom, he may become formidable to the Dey, and be in a capacity to deliver you from danger.  
The unfortunate Laura, too much acquainted with the unkindness of her Stars, did nothing but sigh and groan at the apprehensions of the new storms that threatened her. She knew better than any, the little reason they had to charge the Bassa with the flight of the Sultaness; and being of Opinion, that by justifying the Bassa, her cause would appear better before the Dey; she told this Turk, that her Patron was not, perhaps, so guilty as they thought. I know not, continued she, what is become of the Sultaness, since she left the Seraglio this Morning; but the confidence you have expressed in me, in the freedom of your speech to me, and your generous carriage obliging me not to be so reserved to you, as I would to another; and seeing the extremity matters are reduced to, I must acquaint you, that if the Bassa sent away the Sultaness with the Christian, as is reported, she was very willing to go. And because it is probable you will hardly believe me, without telling you more, I shall be forced to relate part of a story which may serve at least to excuse, if not justify the Bassa.  
You know, Sir, said she, that the Sultaness loved Alexander; and that she loved him entirely, the occasion was this: The Bassa, whom every one knows to have had a mighty affection for that Christian, had a longing desire (whether for Divertisement, or to fasten him more closely to his Person) to see him Love with some Lady, and was of Opinion, I might be fit for the purpose, if he could but contrive how to bring us together. But because I stirred not out of the Seraglio, and that it would have been a very scandalous thing, to see a Christian enter a Palace, where none of your Religion but Eunuches have access; he put the stranger into the habit of an Eunuch, and having prevailed with me to accept of a Visit from him, brought him to me one Evening. The Sultaness, already full of good thoughts for the Christian, whom the Bassa had a thousand times spoke to her of, was extremely glad to hear of the design, to bring him to her very Apartment, and with very great earnestness prayed me, if possible, to procure her the pleasure of seeing him. This proved no hard task for me to perform: The Bassa, who seldom came to visit the Sultaness, sending him almost every day disguised like an Eunuch into the Seraglio; so that I had no more to do but provide for the Secrecy of the interview between my Mistress and Alexander. They had a sight of each other; and if Alexander was so handsome, as to please the Sultaness, you may imagine that so Beautiful a Lady could not displease him. Their Love increased day by day to that height, that they saw one another very often. The Bassa seeing his Christian in Love, and thinking me the object of it, took singular pleasure in it. The Bassa had formerly had some kindness for me, which cooled by my resistance; but having one day for Divertisement caused Alexander to give him an account of the progress of his Amour, the fire of his Love so long raked up and smothered, kindled afresh into a flame; and gathering from the success of Alexander's Address, that I was not insensible, as I pretended to him; he renewed his Courtship, intermingled now and then with Reproaches for the little esteem I had for him in preferring the affection of a Slave before his: I foresaw the danger, but was unwilling to make him sensible of his mistake, to save the two Lovers from the inconveniences which would certainly attend the discovery. And making myself a Sacrifice to the pleasure of the Sultaness, I let him believe I was not insensible of the Merit of Alexander. The affair thus managed, there followed many pleasant Adventures and Intrigues, which for fear of troubing you too much at present, I shall defer the relation of it to a better Opportunity. The mean time, the Bassa extremely pressed me, and reproached me daily for slighting his Passion, and at the same time favouring a Christian far less worthy of my affection. He left no stone unturned to compass his Amorous designs, insomuch as at last he found the means to have a private and dumb interview in the dark with his Wife, whom he mistook for me, and did her all the violence imaginable to be revenged of the insensibility I had for him. Having satisfied himself, he parted with her without knowing her, blessing himself for the good Fortune of having obtained that which he might have commanded every day. But grieved at last for the outrage he thought he had done me, and not knowing how to excuse himself to a Mistress extremely offended, he judged no better amends could be made for his fault, than setting at Liberty two Lovers, whose Passion he had so unjustly injured, after having been not only the promoter, but first Author of their Love. He sent me the News of his Resolution by a Billet he writ to me, wherein he pleaded in excuse the great Passion he had for me; that to expiate his fault, he would deprive himself for ever of the sight of me, and send me back with my Love to my Country, being all could be desired from a generous Rival: And that if I were sensible of the pain and regret my absence would cost him, I should find him punished beyond his desert. My joy was not greater than the trouble of the Sultaness upon receiving this News, which put her into an unspeakable affliction. Her Nights and her Days were wholly spent in Tears; she used all means possible to prevent the misfortune she apprehended from Alexander's return into Italy. I gave her way, choosing rather to renounce my Liberty than see her die for grief in the condition she was in. But the Bassa, the firmest of men in what he resolves on, not perceiving the reason she had to oppose a design she had more reason than he to promote, considering the Passion she knew he had for me, which must needs trouble her, was true to his Resolution; and knowing there was in the Port a Christian Vessel ready to Sail for Italy, he caused it to be stayed for our Embarking therein. What a trouble was it to the Sultaness to see the Bassa so obstinate, and us on the point of departing! Never was a Person so plunged in a Sea of despair, never were sighs so lamentable as hers; I was resolved to entreat the Bassa to put off our departure to another occasion, that I might gain time to dispose her to grant me the favour; but whether it were for the shame to see me, or for fear that the sight of me might melt him into a tenderness that might alter the Resolution he had taken, he appeared not at the Seraglio. The Morning we were to be gone, the desolate Sultaness resolved to die, or to follow us; she had long studied to contrive a way how to do it: I was her Bed-fellow, but neither of us slept a wink. Laura, says she, having considered well what she would do, thou knowest the affection I ever had for thee, that I have used thee more like a Sister than a Slave. Thou knowest my heart, and I need not tell thee I cannot live without Alexander. I desire no acknowledgement of what I have done for thee, (added she, kissing me with her face all bathed in tears) but for pity sake, forsake me not in the most desperate condition that a Woman in Love as I am, can be reduced to, but do something to save my Life: had she desired mine with such melting expressions, I could not have denied it her, which she might perceive by the tears I shed to accompany hers. Then she told me of an intention she had thought of, whereby get aboard with us, and that she doubted not of the success, if Alexander had the Passion he pretended to have for her; and if he had not, she would comfort herself, and find pleasure in Rage for the absence of so ingrate a Person; that without the knowledge of any one in the Seraglio she would be carried to his Lodging, and thence aboard the Vessel we were to Embark in; and that the Bassa sending for me to be gone, we might all three get aboard before any Discovery could be made of her departure. To give her content, I approved of what she said, but did really apprehend the success of this affair, and presage, I know not how, that I should be the sufferer. 'Tis a dangerous business to yield one's self up to the conduct of Lovers, in that which concerns the interest of their affections; they are apt to flatter themselves, to puff themselves up with hope, and admit of no fear. When the day began to appear in our Chamber, we thought it high time to set about and take order for what we thought necessary for accomplishing our desires. We got up, and the Sultaness having put on a Suit of mine, commanded me to call her one of the Eunuches, who was Purveyor for Alexander, and ready to Sacrifice his Life for the Service of the Sultaness; she sent him for the basket wherein he used to carry the Provision, and placing herself in it, wrapped up in my Barnus, commanded him to carry her to Alexander's Lodging. I saw her go away in this manner, waiting with fear and impatience enough to hear the success of this contrivance of the Sultaness, and expecting every moment Orders from the Bassa for my going away. At last, the time of Embarking being over▪ and the Sultaness not returned, I was desirous to be informed how matters past, and understood with astonishment and displeasure enough, that Alexander was gone, and that the Bassa, having brought him to the Port, returned for Bardon. Then it was, Sir, I felt the stroke of my ill Fortune, in losing, not only the hope of returning to my Country, which might have given me some comfort, but of ever seeing the Sultaness, the Person of the World I had most kindness for, and one who rendered my Captivity pleasing. I could not doubt but her flight would be laid to my charge; but the consideration of a Life so unhappy as mine, had produced in me so clear resolutions for death, that, had you taken notice at your arrival, you could not observe any trouble in my countenance. And in good earnest the loss of my dear Sultaness afflicted me so, that the appearance of death could not have done more. They asked me oftentimes what was become of her? the answer I made, was, that I knew not: But having been long taken for her Confident, I was shrewdly suspected. As for the rest of her Servants, you might have read in their countenances, the trouble of their minds.  
This is that, Sir, I had to say to you of the Sultaness; and if you think this Story may be of use to the Bassa, and conduce to the procuring peace between him and the Dey, I should be very glad you would relate it to him, though I may appear guilty of having committed a crime against the one and the other. But they have prudence enough to be sensible of the condition of a poor Slave, whose happiness consisted in her complaisance to a Mistress, who loved her so well as to make her confident in affairs of this consequence. The Turk made answer, that the Bassa had so much kindness for her, and so little for the Sultaness, that he would easily pardon the Treason she was guilty of; and as for the Dey, he could not be much offended with her, for having done his Daughter so eminent a service, in assisting her in a piece of unfaithfulness to a Husband who (the Dey knows) had not any Love for her: and that he would make use of the particulars of this Story to reconcile them; that he would manage this business with some Friends of the Divan, and particularly with the Aga, the Deys favourite, who had great influence over him, and though a Renegade, loved the Christians very well, and might do her some service. To these expressions he added a thousand assurances on his part, and civilities enough to oblige her extremely. This done, he withdrew, to avoid the suspicion her Guard might have of a longer discourse, it being already very late, but promised to see her again on the morrow, and bring her News of all that past.  
The Bassa being now at the Head of so many Moors, thought himself strong enough to take the Field, and as soon as it was day, marched down towards the Town, to favour the retreat of his Friends, and of the Soldiers who came flocking in to him; so that before noon he had an Army of Moors and Turks above ten thousand strong. The Dey used all diligence possible to arm his people, but found himself not strong enough that day to encounter the Bassa, whose Arms were already grown terrible to his Enemies, who from his just indignation against them apprehended a Siege. But his quarrel being chiefly to the Dey, and wanting Cannon to attack him in the Castle he was in, the Bassa was forced to wait the arrival of the Artillery he had sent for to the Port whereof he was Master.  
In the mean time, having assembled the principal of his Friends, to make his complaint to them of the unjust proceedings of the Dey, and to demand their advice, he was not a little amazed to hear them all maintain the General of the Galleys; that it was his Wife was gone away with the Christian, and that Laura stayed in the Seraglio; and that the Dey had reason enough for what he had done, in the belief he was in of the Bassa's intentions to make away his Daughter. The Bassa who still fancied that they were abused, would not vouchsafe to contradict them, but calling in the Captain of his Guards, asked him before them, if he had not the day before spoken with the Sultaness. Poor Aly shivering for fear, fell down at his feet with his face to the ground, and confessed he had thought the Bassa had sent him to the Seraglio, on purpose to blind the world, and that it was desired he should justify before the General of the Galleys, he had seen the Sultaness there, but that in truth she was not there, and that he found only Laura weeping for the departure of her Mistress.  
The Bassa for all this would not be persuaded, but said, he must see the Slave before he could believe it, having many Reasons to the contrary, when he received a Billet from the Deys Secretary to this purpose.  
My Lord, Mahomet Bassa; I know not whether it was your good Fortune or mine, that ordered the Deys making choice of me to take away and guard your fair; Slave; but you may be assured she could not have fallen into better hands: she wants for nothing, and you may believe, I hold neither my Estate nor my Life too dear to bestow in your service, and obliging of her. If in the mean time I may be allowed the liberty of giving you Counsel, I would advise you to endeavour the advantage and peace of your Country, rather than that War and Ruin which will be inevitable, unless you moderate your Passion. There is no Man more sensible than I of the injury they have done you; but I am sensible also that the appearances, for which you are condemned, have miss the Dey; and thus the blame of the departure of your Wife ought to be charged only on your Wife. The rash Counsel of disaffected persons, which the Dey hath followed in this affair, hath put you both into this present disorder. God grant it proceed no further, and that we may not, to the scandal of other Nations, see our Country ruined by those who have it in charge to maintain and preserve it. I hope both of you will be better advised, and waiting your Answer, I wish you all happiness.  
Adieu. Assen, Secret.  
The Bassa, having read this Letter, could no longer doubt of the truth of the thing, knowing Assen to be a person of great Integrity, and his very good Friend. He was easily comforted for the loss of the Sultaness, and laughed at the adventure, and could not believe she had had a design to follow the Christian, if he had not given order to carry her aboard in the Basket. He was not much troubled at the mistake he had been guilty of, and thought that in matters of Love, a Mistress of at least as good value as a Wife. He never suspected any treachery in the Case, but was willing to know what reason could have reduced her to disguise herself in that manner, and go along with Alexander; yet he could not but think Laura of the Plot, but thought himself revenged of her, and her sufficiently punished in having lost at once her Lover, and the occasion of her liberty, to pleasure a Mistress, who might become a Rival. He longed extremely to see her, to know the whole business; and Love adding new flames to this curiosity, made him so impatient of delay, that how dangerous soever the enterprise might have been, he would have gone that very day to Tunis, if his presence with the Army had not been absolutely necessary, to receive those who every moment came over to his party. He sent his Friend this Answer.  
Mr. Secretary, you have in your hands a Treasure, which if the Dey knew how much I value, he would not have trusted you or any other therewith, as being assured he might with it make his peace when, and on what conditions he pleased. Take care of her, I conjure you, as you would of my person, and believe, I will never forget a service of so much importance. Send hither your Moor to morrow at the fourth Watch; I shall want him for a business I cannot trust any other person withal, nor write to you of at present.  
Mahomet Bassa Dey.  
By that time he had written this Billet, the night was far gone; yet for more surety he would not let the Moor go till three or four a clock in the Morning. The Walls of Tunis are very low, and in some places easy to get over. True it is, they were then very well guarded; but the bearer of the Billet being known to belong to the Deys Secretary, there was no danger of his being stayed; and accordingly he found his passage free as he could wish.  
The generous Assen had been that Evening to visit his fair Prisoner according to promise, and given her an account how matters stood, with some hopes of accommodation between parties at difference; for that it was clear by the confession of the Eunuch who had carried the Sultaness in the Basket, that if the Bassa had a hand in sending away the Sultaness, she had contributed not a little to her enlargement, out of a criminal passion she had for Alexander, by going to see him at his Lodging. Laura well pleased with this News, could not sufficiently thank Assen for the obliging care he had of her. He had sent so many several sorts of excellent refreshments, that she found herself better used in the Prison, than in the Bassa's Seraglio; she knew not what to attribute so much goodness and complaisance to, and was a little troubled, out of an apprehension she had there might be some love in the case; for the Turk appeared so civil, so punctual, and so full of kindness, above the ordinary rate of those of his Country, that she had cause to think him rather a Lover of her, than a mere Friend of the Bassa's; yet had he not in a syllable transgressed▪ the respect that was due to her, which pleased her the more, that she had no cause on that account to be angry with a Man who had done her so many good Offices. And the truth is, he acted only out of a principle of generosity, having been five or six years a Slave in Italy to a Patron who had used him very well; and therefore being of a generous nature, he held himself obliged to do the Christians good offices, as having for them a more than ordinary Love and Esteem.  
As Laura was complaining of her ill Fortune, which threw her out of one mischance into another, he prayed her to tell him how she was made a Slave Laura was so much obliged to him, that the trouble she might expect in herself, upon a fresh relation of her misfortunes, could not hinder her from giving him that small satisfaction, in acknowledgement of the many services he had done her; so that having assured him there was nothing pleasant in the story of her life, yet to let him know the first rise of her misfortunes, she begun in this manner.  
Sir, I was born at Genoa, and of one of the best Families of that Republic, but you shall excuse me, if I conceal the name: I will save my Family that shame, since my misfortunes can do it no credit. I was born in a prosperous and flourishing Estate, and my Parents having no other Child, I was bred with that care and expense I may rather call profuse than great. It was my misfortune that my Mother died when I was but 12 years old, and that my Father, though aged, married a young Lady more considrable for Birth than Estate; but my Father had sufficient to satisfy the ambition or pride of a woman of quality. But these were not the Vanities my Mother-in-law was subject to, it was Love had the Ascendent over her. My Father was old, she was young and handsome, and he had cause to be jealous of her: He let her stir but very rarely out of her Lodging, and never but in his company, and then only to Church, or to make a visit to a Friend or Relation. But who can resist his fate? My Mother-in-law, little pleased with the severe hand my Father held over her, found her inclination to be unfaithful to him, increase more and more; nothing provokes desire more than restraint, and difficulties and straits are Sisters of invention; she made use of several to carry on some little intrigues in the Town, but all to no purpose; my Father, an old Master in Gallantry, was so cunning and mistrustful, that nothing could escape him. So that the kind Lady despairing of relief from abroad, was willing to try if she could find at home any means to satisfy her inclinations. She cast her eyes on a Man, of condition so mean, I dare not for her reputation let you know what it was, though otherwise very handsome, honest, and till then very faithful to my Father, who had more trust in him, than in any of his Domestics: this acquaintance and familiarity so dishonourable for a Lady of her quality, lasted for some time without being discovered, till at last by ill fortune for them and for me, having laid me down to sleep on a bed of repose in my Mothers-in-law chamber, I was an eye-witness of their Infamy: they were not aware of me, my Maid having by chance covered me with a piece of Tapestry, laid usually on the bed. I saw them, and they me, with what surprise you may imagine. I was then 14 or 15 years old. Was he not a Slave, says the Turk? interrupting with a tone full of joy and surprise. Yes, Sir, answered Laura (astonished at the Question, which made her look earnestly on him) he was a Slave, and of Turkey. Ah Madam, cries the other, as soon as she had said so, is it possible you should not know Assen? and that you should be Madam Elinor? At this Laura was mute for some time, and then recollecting herself, Oh Heavens! is it you, my poor Assen, says she? By what good fortune have I met you here, and fallen in your hands? By the best fortune in the world both for you and me, says the Turk, ravished with joy to find himself in a condition to serve her, and being under the obligations I am to you, I should be the most ingrateful of men, if I employ not myself in your service. I know you may accuse me on the account of your Mother-in-law, but what could a poor slave have done, tempted by the charms of a fair Lady, who offered him Money and Liberty when he pleased? You will confess, men are gained by less matters, and that if I committed a Crime in doing as I did, after the Confidence so good a Master as your Father reposed in me, and the bounty he showed me, yet it is pardonable; at least I believe I have made some amends for my fault, in saving your Lives, which your Mother would have robbed both you and him of by poison. But I had that influence over her Passion, that I diverted her from it. She made me a thousand promises, if I would put in Execution that horrible design; but because you are ignorant what followed that Adventure, I will tell you in few words.  
Your sight of us, as you said, surprised extremely both the one and the other; and in that desperate Passion your Mother-in-Law was then in, I know not what she would have done to have been rid of you. But, as I told you, I opposed her, and made her understand, that the course she proposed, would certainly plunge us into irreparable Mischiefs, and doubtless, cost us both our Lives. That it were better to endeavour to gain you by fair means, in hopes that being very good-natured, you would not pursue our destruction, by making your Father acquainted with that which would certainly be the cause of his Death, and bring him to his Grave You cannot but remember I went alone with you out of the Chamber to persuade you. And that I told you, it concerned the Honour of your House to keep the matter private, with several other reasons, with which you expressed yourself convinced. At last, you promised me not to make any more noise of it, if your Mother-in-Law would, for the future, keep within the bounds of her Duty. I made a relation of all this to her, expecting that the experience of your discretion, so well known in the Family, would have passed for current Security, for your keeping your word. But it could not secure her from strange inquietude and trouble of Mind. She could not see you without shame, nor come near your Father without trembling. She buzzed instantly in my Ears, that there was a necessity of making you both a Sacrifice to her Repose; and that till than she could not expect any Pleasure in her Life. She told me, I must help her to effect the design, or expect to be the first that should feel the weight of her wrath. I endeavoured the best I could to reduce her to Reason, but for some time she would not hear any. At last, her ill humour desired only the satisfaction of your being put out of▪ your Lodging, and was content to find out several pretences to persuade your Father to put you into a Nunnery, or at least out of his House. Notwithstanding all the Arts of her Complaisance and Cunning, she found it no easy matter to bring this about; but for the quiet of the House, it was necessary to please her, and place you under Pension in a Nunnery. Shortly after, whether it were that you had discovered the business, or that she feared you had done so, or rather that she was willing to be rid of me, by this Stratagem she came one Night to my Chamber, while your Father was asleep, and with a fright in her looks told me, I was undone, that my Master knew all, and that I had no more but that Night for to save myself. Whereupon she gave me Money, and seeing me resolved to be gone, bid me her last farewell. I kept, as you remember, the Keys of the House, and so got easily out. I had, for a Disguise, taken a black Suit of your Fathers, and as soon as it was day, and the Port open, I hired a Felucca, which carried me to Legorne, where I lay private three days, staying for a Vessel of the Great Dukes, which was to carry a Present to Mahomet Bassa, my Ancient Friend, who made use of his Interest with the Dey to restore me my Estate, which since I was a Slave, had been Confiscated, upon a belief I was dead. But having failed of his desire, he procured me in recompense, the Secretary's place, which is no great matter here. This, Madam, is the account of my Life since I left Italy. You may oblige me in acquainting me with yours, which I could not come to the knowledge of, having never heard since from Genoa.  
That which remains to be told you, says Elinor (whom we will yet call Laura) is a story full of troubles and misfortunes; the more difficult for me to relate, that a Person of Quality cannot but be ashamed of them. But I will be free with you.  
Having spent two Years in the Covent I was placed in, my Father moved with many tears, took me home; where for the time I stayed there, I was under continual Persecution from my Mother-in-Law; who having got the Ascendent over the good Man, made him believe what she pleased. She had new designs in her Head, which you may believe was the cause of the fear she put you in: for my Father never had the least knowledge of your familiarity, and was much troubled at your running away, declaring he had lost in you the best Servant he had. He had designed to have set you at Liberty, which was the reason he sent not after you as he might have done. I was by this time become somewhat clear sighted, and what I knew of my Mother-in-Law, made me suspect every thing she did: I watched her narrowly, and in few days discovered a new Gallant. You may believe, that after the mischiefs she had done me, I failed not to do her all the ill Offices in my power: it is the nature of our Sex never to Pardon. But besides the pleasure of Revenge, I was engaged in Honour against her. This raised a War between us more violent than ever, and my Father had trouble enough to content us both. At first she thought herself hard enough for me, having once already turned me out of the House, and afterwards sent you packing; and putting on a bold face, feared nothing, as knowing I would not accuse her of any thing, but her impudence could bring her off, my Evidence being gone. But when she perceived by my obstructing her new practices, rallying her on all occasions, and other cutting effects of my resentment, that I understood her Secrets, she spared nothing that Rage and Fury could suggest to her against me. At last, she fell heavy upon me with my Father; and having not prevailed with him to return me into the Monastery, forced him to turn me again out of his House, and place me with his Relations; where I passed six Months with one, and six Months with another, to the great displeasure of the Family. Till at last a Grandee of Spain, an old Friend of my Fathers, having been created Viceroy of Naples, and passing by Genoa to go and take Possession of his Government, my Father entreated him to take me along with him, which he readily did. The Viceroy and his Lady received and entertained me, not only as the Daughter of their intimate Friend, but as their own, and honoured me with such expressions of Civility and Bounty, that I thought myself too happy in being of their Train. And the truth is, I was not deceived; these beginnings of kindness growing every day to greater perfection, especially on the part of the Viceroy's Lady, who appeared not able to live a moment without me. She had been a great Beauty, and was not then unhandsome, though not very young. She kept nothing from me, but imparted to me her most private thoughts, and made me the Confident of her dearest affections. This lasted as long as I was disinteressed, but there is no trusting one another of our Sex, especially in matters of Love. I was reputed not unhandsome, and having a full Purse at command, I lived at that Court with Splendour enough. It was presently known, I was not the most inconsiderable of Genoa, and this advantage set off with a little Beauty, raised so great a number of Pretenders to me, that I could not pass a day without treats and addresses of Love. The Court of Naples hath always passed for the most Gallant of Italy, by reason of the multitude of Persons of Quality in the Kingdom, but was never so pleasant as then. I was so young that I knew not what Love was, and was not concerned to make haste to learn it, but made the Cares and Sighs of those in Love, my sport and divertisement. But Love will in time be revenged, and make sport of us that made sport of him. I had not yet seen the man who had the secret to affect my heart, no not one who could please, though that Court had of all sorts, and some very handsome. The Son of the Viceroy, being a young Lord very well accomplished, and not a little concerned for me, did but give me trouble. But as I hinted before, I paid dear for that indifference and those slights I gloried so much in Five or six months after our arrival at Naples, there appeared at Court a young Gentleman whom Love seems to have raised up for my ruin. It was the Marquis Hippolito of the House of Accelyn, equally considerable for his good parts as his Birth; a Youth whose outside was taking enough to charm at first sight, but as traitorous and wicked within, as he was outwardly handsome and well accomplished. When you have heard out my story, you will say I speak with too much moderation. It is hard to hate what we have been once truly in Love with. In spite of that unpardonable outrage he did me, I find that if I saw him, and had it in my power to take my revenge of him by death, which he hath but too well deserved, my resentment would give place to the inclination I had for him. He was newly come from France, and had got the Court-air, so peculiar and natural to those of quality of that Nation. I was extremely pleased to see him, and looked upon him with delight, the first time he appeared at Court; and was sensible of it, though with shame and anger at myself. From thenceforth he was constantly in my thoughts, though very troublesome to me. I was displeased with myself for it, and would upon any terms have put him out of my mind, but the more I endeavoured it, the more I found him settled there. I saw him several times after, and to the end the War within me would fain have persuaded myself, it was not for my honour to entertain such thoughts of that Gentleman; but I found in the end my ingenuity deceived me. That which contributed most to my ruin, that both by his looks and his actions he seemed to prefer me before all the Ladies of the Court, and though he did not declare so much, yet I could observe he had more than an ordinary respect for me, and would now and then say to myself some things I fancied he might and would have said to me. At last I made myself of his Party, and blaming my past coyness, I thought it very allowable and just, to have some esteem for a man who merited it from all the World: Having once entertained this thought, and convinced of it as reasonable, my passion and Love finding my heart already more than half open, pressed in and absolutely took it. The Viceroy's Lady, who often diverted herself in entertaining me with all the Intrigues of the Court, having one day told me several Stories, asked me if I knew the Marquis Hippolito's Mistress, for that, for some days past, she observed him very solitary and out of humour, which she took for an effect of some inclination. Had she looked upon me when she asked me the question, she might read in my countenance how much I was concerned; for I changed colour three or four times. But being upon the Tarrass of the Palace on the Country side, she was looking that way and took no notice of me; so that having time to recover myself, I answered with an affected coldness, that he was a dull young fellow, and I believed incapable of Love: and thereupon out of Jealousy her question had raised in me, I made a description of him as really unlike him, as contrary to the thoughts I had of him. The Viceroy's Lady fell a laughing, and having looked upon me so, as she believed, would have put me out of countenance; is it possible, says she, that you should think so of a man whom all the other Ladies esteem the handsomest of the Court? If I were not very well persuaded of your indifference for all men, I should believe of you quite contrary to what you say. But look to yourself, for sooner or later you will be met with, and your insensible heart shall have her turn as well as others. As for me, I confess, were I as you, that young Gentleman would please me, and I would not have you slight him: think of it, he is a Person of merit and worth, and wants nothing of what may justly deserve Love from a fair Lady as you are. Who would not have believed but she spoke in good earnest? Who could have mistrusted her after so many kindnesses and favours she daily laid out on me? I know not whether I was to blame, but must confess I yielded myself to be taken, and was ready to unsay in her presence all that I had spoken against the Marquis Hippolito, and to acknowledge I had prevented her in the thoughts she had been pleased to inspire into me of him, but my modesty restrained me. I thought myself concerned in honour, to expect an Address from him, before I would confess myself taken. I could never discover perfectly this Lady's design, but as far as I can guests by the consequence, she questioned me of pure jealousy, endeavouring to discover whether I had any affection for the Marquis. She had often seen us talk together; judging by her thoughts of him, that it was hard enough for a Lady to be acquainted with a Gentleman of so many charming Qualities, without loving him; she had doubtless some apprehension I had on his account ceased to be insensible. But finding by what I said, that I continued indifferent, her jealousy giving place to Love-policy, she desired to settle some friendship between him and me, to serve her for a pretence to see him as oft as she desired. At least I am of opinion these were the reasons obliged her to speak of me as she did, and to tell me, if ever I meant to love, I could not make a better choice. I stood out stiffly to the end, telling her, my Liberty was so precious, that I would not part with it for any consideration in the World, if the keeping depended wholly on me: But because those of my condition were not born to enjoy it all their Life; whatever I endured, I would be guided by my Friends, and absolutely obey their pleasure who had the right to dispose of me. Hereupon she embraced me, and said, All the Maids of the World would be wise, were they of my humour, and followed my example. In the mean time, since I was resolved not to slight the Counsel of Friends, it was her advice I should admit the Marquis Hippolito to see me sometimes. But Madam, said I, interrupting her, hath he desired leave to do it, and is it at his request that you make the motion? She answered, saying, that I need not trouble myself for that, but might believe this overture came not altogether from her; and that the Marquis had found me out as well as others. You may imagine what a pleasure she did me, in telling me this, who desired nothing more than the love of that Gentleman.  
This discourse being over, we parted extremely mistaken in our thoughts of one another. She imagined I was still the same, and altogether insensible of love; and I thought she had spoken as a Friend, and really desired to see me in love with the Marquis: We began to have the young Lords company, after the particular kindness between him and Don Alphonso, Son to the Viceroy, gave him free entrance where he pleased; and the Viceroy having no small esteem for the Marquis, was not only glad to see him at Court, but engaged him by his Civilities to come to him oftener. I shall forbear mentioning what the Lady contributed on her part; but you may believe it very probable, that having the kindness she had for him, she omitted nothing in her power to further these Visits. At first he was altogether for me, at least in appearance; for several days he wanted nothing of diligence or complaisance to please me. Wherever I went he still waited upon me, approved all that I said, and took my part on all occasions. In a word, he practised all that may be done, for gaining a-Mistress; and was presently looked upon in Court as a new Servant of mine. Many of my Friends congratulated my Conquest, and I could not but laugh at them. Not but that I believed it, being easily persuaded to credit what I so much desired, but that I was afraid to believe it so soon, and was unwilling it should be known, to avoid the shame that might attend a mistake. He had not as then spoke to me of Love; and the least I could do, was to expect he should declare himself. A Lover of so much Wit as the Marquis, could not fail of finding an occasion. But I know not whether fortune befriended him so ill, as not to afford him one. However, 'tis certain he never took any to discover his Passion by Speech: All that I knew of it, was from his looks and his sighs, which perhaps my kindness interpreted too favourably. Men being now accustomed to a general Gallantry, that in show and appearance, both their words and their actions speak altogether of Love. These promising blossoms of an apparent affection, were all blasted on the sudden. I was surprised at it to astonishment, to see him so far advanced to make so sudden a stop, at a time I lest expected it, and prepared myself to give occasion to discover his affection, which I feared his respect for me, or his fear to displease me, had hindered from doing. I could not imagine the cause of so sudden a change; for three whole days he absented from the Court, and when he appeared there, he looked like a man so cold, so altered, as if he durst not cast an eye upon me, whereas before he was jovial and complaisant, and his eye never off me, you cannot easily imagine how terribly this vexed me. I was upon the point of ask him the reason, and had certainly done it, but that I was overruled by a little haughtiness and pride, which making me look on his inconstant proceeding, as an effect of manifest Treachery, inspired me with scorn and aversion against him; which however I smarted for in the end: for two whole days I did nothing but weep and complain of Love and my own wickedness. The Viceroy's Lady observing me sad and dejected, though I did all in my power to hide part of my trouble, asked me what I did all, which probably she knew but too well, but was willing to have the pleasure of hearing what I would say, I, who till then had not the least reason to distrust her, made no scruple of telling her in plain terms the cause of my grief, and told her, she had more than any contributed thereto. This made her blush, and comprehending on the sudden what I meant, but thinking without doubt I had discovered her secret. But I fell unhappily to explaining myself, and seriously confessed to her, that what she had said to me of the Marquis Hippolito, had produced in me some disposition of kindness for him, which cost me then very dear, having been very confident she would not have deceived me, but that the Marquis had now deceived us both. I must confess, says the Traitress, I was willing to conceal from you the inconstancy and change of a foolish young flash, and did design not to speak to you any more of him, not thinking you could be much concerned for him after what I had heard you say of him. But since you are aware of his inconstancy, and so much concerned at it, I must tell you, that to my grief as much as yours, I have discovered he is otherwise engaged. She perceived me blush extremely at that word, and in truth I was so disordered within, it was impossible to hide my despair. Otherwise engaged! Madam, said I, sighing: Yes, answered she, to a new Mistress very lately. Judge you, continued she, what I said to him on that occasion, and whether he did deserve to be reproached, having expressed so much passion for you, that I thought it impossible a man could have been more deeply in Love. Oh Heavens, cried she, how deceitful are men now adays! He excused himself by the Friendship he hath for my Son; that to be his Rival, were to betray him, and that the confidence he had in him, in acquainting him at his arrival, with his affection for you, obliged him to make a Sacrifice of his heart, to serve my Son's interest. Sorry excuses, I confess says she, but how can we help it? 'Tis a mercy however, he knows not the favourable inclination you have for him, for which he is unhappily beholding to me, as the cause of your kindness. He should never have known these worthy inclinations, replied I: I never discovered them to any but yourself Madam, for whom I had no reserve, and I hope you have not told him. Think not, says she, I could so far forget myself; though I were not so much your Friend as you know I am; I know very well with what caution to manage their concerns, who repose a confidence in me. Then I asked her trembling, whether she knew the fair Lady had robbed us of him? That, says she, I cannot learn of him, but I will endeavour to discover it by my Son, who without question knows who she is; leave that to me, and I will bring you news of her as soon as I can discover her.  
Thus did my Rival triumph and laugh at me. I must confess I was a very Fool, in that I had not then more wit, than to trust any Woman; but it was the confidence I had in her, that blinded me. Yet when I call to mind a thousand things then spoken and done, I cannot but wonder, I who had seen so much of the world, could not make discovery of the treachery they acted against me. I did nothing but torment myself night and day, and avoided all occasions of being with the Marquis, for fear my weakness should to my disgrace prevail over my resolutions. I saw him entertain himself commonly with the Viceroy's Lady, and ask her one day, what it was they discoursed of; and whether she had discovered the secret I was so desirous to know; she answered me, no, but that I should not trouble myself, for the Marquis would come to me again; and that she studied how to bring it about. I was vexed at this, and told her I did not desire it: that she might do her pleasure, but that I desired to be unconcerned. And the truth is, the pains I endured, would, I believe, by degrees have made me insensible, and cured me at last. But on a day the Viceroy treated us in the Garden, I quitted the Company, and walking aside to muse in a dark and solitary place, I met with the Marquis. I thought it an effect of the Lady's care, and that she had made use of this occasion to reconcile us. I know not whether he took the haughtiness and seriousness of the Looks I entertained him with for an ill Omen, or not; but sure I am, he trembled as he approached me, and with a very settled tone, told me, it was very strange to see a person of my Humour finding out so solitary a Walk, there being so much good company in the Garden: it had been, said he, excusable in any other, as an effect of some amorous thoughts; but for you Madam— for me, replied I, interrupting him, and who hath told you but I may have been led hither by Love? Ah Madam, answered he, we know you too well to entertain any such suspicion; and I am sure, if you can love any thing, it must be only yourself, 'Tis well, replied I, if it be true as you say, that I love nothing at all; but as for what you reproach me with, 'tis reported you are not altogether indifferent: there is some ground for the report, Madam, indifference being a Quality I never stood much upon, especially towards you of all the people in the World. What not towards me? replied I, when you knew me insensible. 'Tis true, Madam, answered he, I was told so, but submitted however to the destiny of those many unfortunate Lovers, you have made such in this Court. In matter of affection, said I, we are not to be led by example; some have more merit, or at least better Fortune than others; we are sensible towards some, when we are not so towards others: One person shall please, without knowing wherefore amongst an infinite of others who shall not have that advantage though equally handsome. In a word, every one hath his lucky moment: you may believe I could not have said all this without blushing. The Marquis having heard me with such attention, as clearly discovered him surprised at my discourse, was just going to answer me, when the Viceroy's Lady, who would never with her good will have us both out of her sight, unhappily interrupted us, and surprising us on the sudden, said, I dare lay a good wager you were speaking of Love: 'tis true, answered I smiling, we were discoursing of a very pleasant question, occasioned by being reproached by the Marquis for my insensibility. He hath reason, Madam, replied the Lady▪ to prevent an answer from the Marquis; he who is so deeply in Love, may justly reproach you: if you know it not, I can assure you of it, and will in time tell you more. I thought, said I, we had not been so great strangers, but I might have known it from himself, without being obliged to another for the News, and if we two were alone, I know how I would quarrel with him for it. All this was spoken with an air of raillery, which wrought very effectually on the inclinations of the Marquis, which the Lady discoursed of; I applied to myself, imagining what she spoke of it, was done for my honour, and to engage me to an obliging answer which I gave. She presently fell into other discourse, and led us insensibly towards the company.  
On the morrow, the Marquis having mused all night on what I had said, found me alone looking out at a window of the Palace, and falling insensibly on the discourse of the day before, asked me, though I had no inclination to love, whether I would be displeased at one who loved me with the greatest passion in the World: I answered, there were but few I would allow that liberty to; and that in the whole Kingdom I knew but one I could permit to use that privilege. I believe he could not but understand I meant him, and my looks did but too much confirm him in the opinion; he, though he observed it, but would not take notice of it. I know, Madam, says he, it is extremely imprudent to propose a person of a meaner rank than yours, or one of small merit, or not Master of Qualities worthy your esteem; but the person I speak of, is beyond all exception. Finding him take a course so contrary to what I expected, I had not patience to permit him to make an end, having ground enough to believe, it was not for himself he made this Declaration; and interrupting him briskly, A Lover, said I, (blushing with anger and shame) perhaps would not displease, provided he were like the Marquis Hippolito; any other may come too late. I had scarce spoken these words, but I repented me of them, and unwilling to hear any more in the confusion the torrent of my Passion had put me in, I withdrew. Oh Heavens! cried he, running after to stay me, How unfortunate am I? Unfortunate, said I, turning toward him: Is the esteem I have for you a means to make you unfortunate? Yes, Madam, replied he with a sigh; that precious and charming esteem, I was made believe, could never be gained, which I would have purchased with all I have dear in the World— He stopped there. Well, said I, what of that esteem? Ah Madam, answered he, they have made me renounce it. I had no sooner heard these words but I went on my way, having given him some looks full of indignation; but seeing him follow me, and not able for very grief to speak to him, I made signs to him with my hand, that he should come no further. It is beyond imagination what a desperate condition I was in that night: Rage, shame, spite, fury, repentance; in a word, all the Vexations of a Lover, mocked, betrayed, assaulted me by turns I fell so sick, that for many days I kept my Bed; however I resolved to speak to him once more, to know who had caused him to renounce my esteem, as he had told me. I presently fancied it was Don Alphonso; but was very desirous to learn how the matter had been managed, and expected every day to see him with his Friend, or with the Viceroy's Lady, and that I should find an opportunity to speak to him of it. In the mean time he came not to my Chamber, though all the Court did me that honour, for the short time I continued indisposed: this surprised me extremely, and hearing one day he was in my Antichamber, I sent Clarice my Servant to desire him to come and see me, having something to say to him. He would have come instantly, as the Maid brought me word; but the Viceroy's Lady, with whom he was discoursing, stayed him: at which I was not a little astonished; but much more, when soon after I saw him come in, in the company of that Lady. He looked very pale, and his countenance much altered, which contributed not a little to allay my bitterness against him, though I had small reason to think myself concerned in honour of that change that appeared in his looks. You see, Madam, said I to the Lady at their entrance, this Gentleman must be sent for, if we desire the pleasure of his Company. These are favours, continued I, not usual with me, and such as I would not by any means have done him, while it was in my power to have any esteem for him. But since he hath told me, they have made him renounce my esteem, you may believe, Madam, I am not much disposed to have any esteem for him; and that what I now do, proceeds not from any such cause. 'Tis true, answered the Lady, he does not deserve your esteem, but you must pardon his Youth. I will pardon him, replied I, on condition he will tell me who had the power over his Heart or Wit, to make slight of an esteem not altogether unworthy a Gentleman of his Quality; and 'tis for that purpose I have sent for him hither. He stood mute; so that turning my Head towards the Lady, to ask her the reason of his silence, I was again surprised to find the Lady in greater disorder than he. I was just speaking to him again, when I saw him rise to tell me with trouble in his face; I will satisfy you, Madam, in that particular, but entreat you let me take a fitter time. A fitter time, said I, and why not now? Is it my Lady that hinders you? You know I conceal nothing from her. Ah, if it be I, said the Lady, I will withdraw to leave you at liberty; and with that she retired towards a Window, in far greater disorder than if she had been angry. This made me more curious than ever to hear what the Marquis would say to me. Yet he declared himself no further, but reaching forth his hand towards me, he showed me a Billet, which I would not have received on any other occasion; but in this Conjuncture I made no scruple of it, believing I should find in it the Secret I longed for: Hereupon he withdrew without saying a word. And the Lady returning towards me; Well, Madam, said she, how comes it he is gone, without naming to you the Person you have so much cause to hate? I must tell you, 'tis I, and that will surprise you. It really did so, the word she had spoken having astonished me, I could scarce make her an answer: You must know then, continued she, that having told me he had been obliged on the account of my Son to change his thoughts of you, and engage himself to another Beauty; I pressed him for your sake to tell me who it was; and after a long refusal, he had the insolence to tell me, 'twas I. You may imagine how I used him on such an occasion: However, I was of Opinion, that a little more than ordinary complaisance I had expressed for him, had given him that Confidence. But finding him sensible of his error, I was a little better pacified, and let him see he was mistaken on all hands. That he should not have quitted the design of serving you, being unquestionably the best deserving in this Court of Passion and esteem of a Person of his Quality, and that he was very ill advised to make addresses to me, who was neither for Gallant, nor Gallantry. I was no stranger to the Character of this Lady, and knew very well what she said was quite contrary to the inclinations of her temper. And having had leisure while she spoke, to recover myself from the astonishment she had cast me in at the beginning of this Discourse, and to observe the alteration of her Countenance, I made no doubt of her perfidiousness. This, Madam, said I very seriously, was to engage further in my concerns than I deserved, and in truth than I desired. You had formerly told me, this young Gentleman would have pleased you, had you been as I; and since he preferred you before me, it was too much for you to part with him for my sake. I did, says she, but what I ought both for you and myself. This, Madam, replied I, is a piece of more than ordinary Friendship; and I question very much, whether among the best Friends of our Sex, the pleasure of being beloved by a Person whom all the Ladies of the Court own to be the handsomest and best accomplished in Naples, would not prevail over their Friendship, and make it appear that one Woman seldom scruples to be treacherous to another in cases of this Nature. But, Madam, methinks what you now say, is somewhat contrary to what you formerly told me of the Passion of the Marquis then wholly for me. I thought so then, I confess, said she, but I was mistaken. And is it not possible, you should be now also mistaken, answered I, for I have some reason to doubt it. You do but deceive yourself, replied she. Well, Madam, said I with some heat, let us try which of us is deceived; peradventure it will appear in this Billet I received from him. Whereupon I fell to the opening of it. The Lady much surprised, asked me, if it came from the Marquis. I told her, it did; and that nothing but the curiosity I had to clear this Affair, could have prevailed with me to take it from him. Alas, says she, what assurance can that give you of the inclinations of a man who changes them every moment; and will, it may be, tell you the same he hath told me already. I was in such haste to open the Letter, that I made her no answer, but fell to reading it, being to this purpose.  
How great an unhappyness is it, Madam, in matter of Affection, and great trouble of Heart, to follow other Counsels than those of our Passion! Never was Person so deeply in Love, as I was with you, from the day I first had the happiness to see you. And I may very well affirm, I continue so still, notwithstanding the many Oaths I have been forced to the contrary. But some Persons, whom I had not the least cause to suspect of design, having taken the pains to represent your humour so haughty and insensible, that I almost despair of gaining your esteem, I was obliged to address myself to some more indulgent Beauty; not out of inconstancy, but to cure myself of a Passion, the consequence whereof I extremely apprehend. Those who advised me to it, were so kind as to condescend to serve me in it: And the truth is, their Compliance was such, being Persons of Quality, that had not I desired their Assistance, I could not have refused it. But, Madam, there are some evils for which there is no Remedy. That which your Eyes have done me is of this nature. If I have committed a fault, in entertaining thoughts of breaking my Chains, I smart for it more cruelly than you can desire. I know not to what extremity my grief would drive me for the time I have lost, were it not for the hope I have to redeem it. Be pleased, Madam, to give me leave to wait upon you with more Love than ever, and by serious Repentance to deface those ill impressions my error have wrought on you, concerning the constancy of my Affection. For should you be more haughty and insensible than you have been represented, yet I am resolved to die altogether yours.  
Hippolito.  
Ah, Traitor, cried the Viceroy's Lady, as soon as I had done reading the Billet, is it possible he should have the Confidence to justify the most visible inconstancy man was ever guilty of, and to accuse others of it? Madam, said I without any Passion, 'tis fit we should hear him speak for himself; and if you please to stay, we will send for him, and see how he will defend himself against you. Alas, says she, what should I stay for? I am not otherwise concerned than on your account. You may now do as you please, but if you will be advised by me, see him no more. That must not be, Madam, replied I, though it were but to know who they are he speaks of in the Billet; I must see him once more, and then I shall understand what measures to take. I had hardly done speaking but the Marquis came in. He thought without doubt the Viceroy's Lady would not have favoured me so long with her company after he had been gone; and the impatience he had to know how I took what he wrote in the Billet, or perhaps to tell me what made me so earnest to be informed of, made him presently return. He was not a little surprised to find us together. He was just stepping back to be gone, but I prayed him to come in. The Viceroy's Lady seeing him, and confounded at the sight of him, or for fear I would put him upon making the discovery before her, as I had certainly done in the condition things were in, stood up, and taking him by the hand, turning towards me: I have something (said she) to tell him; after which you may satisfy yourself. This action of hers moved more my pity than my jealousy. I know very well she was not a Woman of the best conduct in the World, but I should never have imagined her Passion could have carried her so far as (after all she had said to me) as to make her give in my presence such an instance of her weakness. I let them go without saying a word to one or other, but expected to see the Marquis again, and assured myself of very pleasant divertisement by what he should tell me of the Lady: But he came not at all that day, which angered me not a little. On the morrow I perfectly recovered. My malady was a pure effect of jealousy and vexation, and when I knew how matters stood, I was soon cured of both: Not but that I had reason to fear the Vice-Roys Lady. But the sorry course I saw her take, and her pitiful conduct, secured me from the apprehension of any harm she could do me: I was well enough to appear at Court, but hearing there was a Ball at night, I resolved to be sick one day more, that I might steal at night in Masquerade to the Ball, and there speak with the Marquis. My design took not, for he came not thither all the while I stayed. But by reason of my going to and fro to seek him out, the Vice-Roys Lady knew me, and being Alarmed at my Disguise, followed me to my Chamber, where I was amazed to see her, and could not believe it was she. Well, and what News of the Marquis, said she? I must know that of you, Madam, answered I, for I have not seen him since yesterday, when you denied me the pleasure to discourse him one moment in a business you and I were sufficiently concerned to be satisfied in. I believe, replied she, you are now to seek for satisfaction. How can that be, replied I, when I have not spoken with him never since. It is reported however, answered she, you were this Evening together in Masquerade. Those, said I, who report it, are very much mistaken; but I must beg your pardon, Madam, if I tell you there is not any one but you capable of such a mistake. I know what becomes me, and there are but few who make a doubt of it: Persons of my Honour are seldom guilty of such faults. The Viceroy's Lady having a desire to vex and fall out with me, never gave over till I had told her part of my mind, and let her understand I was not to be fooled by her. The truths I told her, madded her to that degree, that she broke out into expressions so cruelly offensive, I could not forbear crying, and unwilling she should have the pleasure to see the Tears run down my Cheeks, I rose up to retire into my Closet. What, says she, I interrupt your Meditations in the Charms of your fine Marquis, is not that the cause of your withdrawing? Or rather, continued she, to provoke me yet more, are you going to seek him in your Closet where you have hid him? That which you say, Madam, doth so little become you, that nothing but extreme madness could have made you think so unworthy of me; but I see what pleads your excuse. What, replied she, I hope I have not great reason to trust her that will not trust me. And the right I have to oversee and regulate your Conduct gives me the privilege to visit any place I suspect. With that she took up a Flambeau that lay lighted on my Table, and went up towards my Closet: I looked upon her with that slight and indifference as wholly unconcerned at her action, which angered her more than any thing I could have said to her. I do not yet know what was her design; for she knew me too well to have the least suspicion of what she charged me with, but it seems she was resolved to try me to the utmost, and be revenged of me that way. In the mean time, by very ill Fortune for me, the Marquis was in the Closet, and she was the first that discovered him; she shrieked out with the surprise of it, which made me turn about that way, and put me into such a fright, that together with the displeasure that accident gave me, cast me into a sound, and made me fall as dead upon the Bed near which I then stood. The Marquis seized with true or feigned grief for his being the cause of so unhappy an accident, begged my pardon on his knees with tears in his Eyes. What the Lady said to this I know not, but one of my Chambermaid's, who came to help me, told me she saw her go out so angry, that fire seemed to sparkle out of her Eyes. When I was come to myself, I saw her not, but the Marquis kneeling before me with a countenance so sad and so dejected, it melted me into pity, and eased me of more than half of my anger. What have you done, Sir, said I? you have utterly ruined me. Go and see me no more but at seasonable hours, and when every body might see me; after which, though I was very well pleased with his company, I prayed him to withdraw, to prevent further occasion of Discourse.  
I am sensible, dear Assen, I spend too much time in relating particulars so inconsiderable, and abuse your Patience in entertaining you with such trifles. But this having been the best of my time in that Court, and best part of my story, you will excuse the difficulty I find in myself to come to the relation of Accidents so shameful for me, that the memory of them is more terrible than Death. Assen having answered, that all she had said was very material; and that he thought himself equally concerned in the smallest Circumstances of her Life, as well as the greatest, she proceeded in this manner.  
The Viceroy's Lady having fallen out with me, and finding reason enough of difference with the Marquis, who in spite of her visited me often, you may believe she passed her time very melancholy and sad. The first time the Marquis came to see me, I insisted, that if he designed to please me, he should begin to do it by telling me in particular all the kindness and caresses passed between the Viceroy's Lady and him. But he entreated me with so much Ingenuity not to make use of the power I had over him, to oblige him to a thing so mean, that his Discretion prevailed over my Curiosity, and made me esteem him the better for it: however he let me know 'twas of her he spoke in the Billet, as I had easily guessed. The disconsolate Lady, who could not but be concerned for us, was willing to seek Peace, and having found a fair pretence for it, sent me word by one of her Women, that I might do her a pleasure if I would give her a Visit, which I failed not to do. She received me cheerfully, and with smiles in her Countenance, being an Excellent Mistress of the Art of Dissembling, after some Civilities showed me, she brought me to the Closet, where beginning her discourse with a very great sigh, Well, my dear Elinor, said she, are you still angry with me? I am heartily sorry, Madam, said I, that you gave me cause, who never deserved it. Come, let us agree, said she, to say nothing of what is past, and give me leave to let you see I am your Friend. It is that I desired, Madam, replied I; and the Honour I have always had for you, must needs make you believe your Friendship very precious and dear to me. 'Tis enough, said she; come, tell me presently if there were a proposal of Marriage between the Marquis and you; do you love him so well, as not to refuse him? Such a Proposal from her appears very suspicious, and seeing me laugh, as one who would not be caught in that Trap, I do not speak to you now (continued she, as a Rival) as you have believed me to be, and as perhaps (added she smiling) I have formerly been; but as your true and sincere Friend I tell you, that if you desire to Marry the Marquis, it shall be your fault if it be not done; with that she showed me a Letter from the Viceroy to my Father, written to that purpose at the request of the Marquis, and said, your Father hath so much respect for my Husband, that there is no doubt but it will take effect; the Marquis having desired my leave to speak of it to the Viceroy: and finding by the Character of the Letter, they endeavoured in good earnest to unite me to a Man who was furnished with all I could wish, as well for a settlement, as to please my Affection; I was ravished with Joy, but let it appear as little as I could, mistrusting my Fortune, especially being in the hands of a Person who would dearly repent it, before it could be effected. I thanked her with the most acknowledging and affectionate expressions I could invent; and there passed so many Caresses on the one side and on the other, that you would have thought we had never been so great Friends before. At my return I found the Marquis in my Chamber, where he waited to bring me this pleasing News, with a Countenance full of Joy; and that the Viceroy had given him free liberty to visit me. I told him I had heard all this from a Person he could not easily guests, and in truth it was hardly credible it should be the Viceroy's Lady. I told him it was she, and related all our Discourse.  
The Liberty granted the Marquis to visit me when he pleased, having heightened the affection we had one for another, degenerated by degrees into a kind and tender familiarity. He took a little more upon him than had been allowed him, and more indeed than I ought to have permitted him. But 'tis hard for one in Love, so deeply as I was, to be proof against the Amorous assaults of a Man she expects to be her Husband on the Morrow. At first I made resistance enough, and would not so much as give him my hand to kiss; but Love blinds so, that he doth insensibly lead us away, and accustom us to things we never durst think of. After the first blush, the rest follows of course. We expected with equal impatience my Father's answer. We were already mutually engaged, so that if his answer should not have proved favourable, we were resolved to complete our happiness: Such engagements given to save a Maid's Honour, are but snares Love lays for her Virtue. The Marquis, as all true Lovers, being impatiently earnest for the possession of my Person as well as Affection, whereof he was assured, and fearing cross Accidents that might hinder our Bliss, let me know, amongst some little favours I allowed him to take, that he was very desirous to obtain of my gift what I had forbid him to hope without my Father's consent; and that if I loved him, I would make it appear in obliging him in that particular. I made as if I did not understand him, but by degrees he spoke so intelligibly, that I was under the necessity of being very angry with him, or of defending myself with Arguments: Finding it impossible to be angry with a Man I loved, I fell to Disputing, but he was too hard for me. And certainly, in matters of Love, a Maid that comes to reasoning, is in danger of being lost. However our combat lasted long enough, to make me fancy I had satisfied my humour; but at last I must yield. I thought there needed not so much caution, with a person who had given the Viceroy his word that he would marry me, and assured me (as I believed) by a thousand Oaths, that he would make me his Wife. He was to come to me in my Chamber at night, an hour after all should be in bed; and because my Chamber was near that of the Viceroy's Ladies, where I had liberty of entrance at my pleasure, I told him I would leave the door open, and prayed him not to make a noise, or speak a word, lest the Lady should hear us. You see Assen, I conceal nothing from you; though I might allege many reasons in excuse of my fault. I cannot tell you all this without blushing; for I must confess had I been more wise, or more prudent, I could not have been so unfortunate as I am. The Viceroy was gone that day out of Town; all things seemed to favour us, but it was for my ruin. The hour was come, and I heard a man entering softly into my Chamber, for there was no light to see him by, and I easily believed it was my dear Servant. I received him with the kindness of a Woman in Love, and made no doubt but it was he; for he had the same embroidered Waistcoat, which he had caused to be made against our Wedding, being one of the richest ever seen in the Court. Part of the night we passed in an amorous silence, till at last he fell asleep. As for me, I found myself a little indisposed, and wanting a light to find something to take, I ventured to go into the Lady's Chamber, which commonly had a watch-light burning all night. Having opened the door from my Chamber to hers, I was not a little surprised, when approaching the watch-light, and casting my eyes towards her to see if she were asleep, the Curtains being all open because of the hot weather, I saw a man in his clothes lying by her. I doubted very much whether it were best to go back whence I came, or take away the watch-light; but the need I had of this prevailed with me to go on, and light the candle I had in my hand: and having seen so much, I was possessed with a Spirit of curiosity to know who that fortunate Gallant might be; I perceived him in the habit of Marquis Hippolito. I was surprised at the adventure, and had I not been fully persuaded I had newly left him in my Chamber, I do not know what extravagances I might have run into. However this Circumstance inflamed my desire of knowing who it was. I perceived he was of the same stature with the Marquis, and had the same hair; the Lady's arm was over his face, so that I could not see it. I was at the bed's feet, and could not be mistaken; I trembled all over, as an Omen of my misfortune. Heavens! said I within myself, am I awake or asleep? is not that the Marquis? could he quit me this night to come to this Lady? perhaps they held correspondence together, and she knew he was to pass this night with me. All these Reflections were made in a moment, and the next moment after that, I came into my own Chamber, to find out the truth. But how was I astonished to find the Marquis there too? Oh Heavens! cried I, which of the two is the counterfeit? And drawing near him in my Chamber, I perceived by the colour of his Hair, how unhappily I was deceived, and that it was Don Alphonso was there. What a Fury, what Rage did this put me in? I seized the Poniard he had laid on my Table, and not knowing with which of the three to begin, being all equally perfidious, I thought the Marquis as most criminal, was first to be sacrificed to my just revenge, for fear of an Escape. So that I went into the other Chamber; but the noise that I made, having awaked Don Alphonso, he was amazed to see a Light, and perceiving me enter his Mother's Chamber, he got up in a trice, and frighted at the sight of the Poniard in my Hand, he ran after me, and laid hold on me by the Arm, just as I was going to stab that Traitor the Marquis: but he was also sufficiently surprised to see me lifting up my hand to kill the Marquis, lying by his Mother's side. He was enraged at the sight, and to wash away the stain of his Family with the blood of the Traitor, was ready to execute that vengeance he had hindered me to take; but I stayed him, and throwing myself upon him, Traitor, said I, this blow was not reserved for thee, thou shalt not have the pleasure of being first revenged. At these words, and the bustle that we made, the Marquis and the Viceroy's Lady awaking, were at their wit's end, not knowing what resolution to take. The Marquis judging that the Poniard Don Alphonso had in his Hand, threatened only him, made use of the time I held him, to lay hold of his own, and stand on his Guard. I left them in this furious Disorder, hoping they would sufficiently revenge one on another, for their Treason against me; and re-entering my Chamber, I shut the door on that side, and having taken with me all that was considerable in Money or Jewels, I went out at another door, and ran through the Streets like a mad Woman, to seek a Felucca in the Port, to carry me to any place my despair would lead me. I was so unhappy as not to find one ready, and had not the patience to stay, for fear of being pursued, and forced back to that Court, where I had rather die than appear. At last with much ado I found a Bark bound for Barcelona; provided they went far enough from Italy, and that my Name and my Birth were concealed, I cared not whither they carried me; so that I went on board, without taking a moment to consider. 'Tis not a single Accident makes us unfortunate; the greatest disasters have commonly a large train of misfortunes: Thus far my soul entertained not a thought, but what the transports of despair and resentment had suggested. But when I saw myself at Sea, and in no other Company than that of five or six poor Mariners, who knew not what to think of me, my heart was so full, that nothing could ease it but a torrent of tears. I will not trouble you with a Relation of the sad thoughts I had for two or three days that I had the opportunity of a solitary entertainment; but on the fourth I found myself plunged into new afflictions. About Sunrising the Seamen put up such a lamentable cry, it almost broke my heart: I thought we had been Shipwrecked, and asked what the matter was, more out of curiosity than any fear of death, being the thing I heartily wished for. I found the Galleys of Biserti had us in Chase, and took us an hour after: I received this disaster with such tranquillity of spirit, as really astonished all the Spectators. All my fear was for my person, having fallen into the hands of men who are the most barbarous and inhuman on earth, and have no respect for our Sex. However, whether it was my particular good fortune, or that they had some regard for a Woman which appeared of more than ordinary Quality, I may truly say, that setting aside the haughtiness and rudeness of their first approach, in forcing open the door of my cabin with their feet; I was better used than the rest, and more favourably than I expected. As soon as the Soldiers saw me, not one of them entered; only the Captain of the Galley took that liberty, and very civilly asked me in Italian who I was, and for what place I was bound. I hid from him both my Name and my Quality, telling him, I was called Laura, and went for Barcelona to my Father, then in the service of the King of Spain. Then I put into his hand a little Box, in which were my Money and my Jewels; and the more to oblige him, I told him I made him a Present worth above twenty thousand Crowns (as in truth it was) and that I might have thrown it overboard, as most of the Seamen had done their clothes and their Merchandise. The acknowledgement I desired of him, was that I might be civilly used; which he promised me, and the same time told me, I should say nothing of the Box, assuring me of a share at our arrival at Tunis. I was ravished at this Conjuncture, not so much for the hopes he gave me of restoring part of my Jewels, but because this secret rendered me useful and necessary to the Captain, and obliged him to a greater care of me. And the truth is, I had no reason to complain; he caused me to be presently carried aboard his Galley, and gave me his own cabin, and never came into it till we arrived at Biserti. Our Voyage was not long; we had a great Calm, and having in three days gained the Cape of Carthage, we got safe on the fourth into the Port of Biserti; where being landed, I was put into a kind of Litter carried by a Camel, and so carried to Tunis, under a Guard of five or six Horsemen. I fell to the Bassa's share, who joyful of it, made a Present of me to his Lady.  
Thus you have, dear Assen, the fortune of a Maid born of an illustrious Family, and to a plentiful Estate, as you very well know. The Turk being perfectly acquainted with the condition of her Family, could not sufficiently admire the strangeness of her fate, and assured her of his best endeavours to make her more happy for the future, and to gain her liberty to return to her Country, which she had no cause to scruple; That the Accident at Naples was a disaster to be remedied by her Marriage with the Son of the Viceroy, who doubtless would be glad of it: That if it should fall out otherwise, she had many excellencies and advantages to comfort her against all the disasters of her life: That her misfortune in the Neapolitan Court could not be laid to her fault, but the infamous Treason of a man, who sooner or later was sure to be punished for his Crime. In a word, after long discourse to this purpose, he renewed protestations of his readiness to serve her, and to leave no stone unturned to free her from her misery: That he had many good Friends about the Dey, and was very well assured he could not take any sinister resolution against her, but he must have notice of it time enough to prevent, or escape it. Laura was not wanting to her duty of gratitude, for these signal testimonies of Affection to her Family and her; and could not sufficiently thank Heaven, that in the midst of her misfortunes she had met a Man so devoted to her Service, and of unquestionable fidelity.  
Thus Assen left her a little comforted against the malignity of her destiny, and promised to come again, and pass part of the night following with her, being obliged that day to wait on the Dey, to see how Matters were carried.  
The End of the Second Part.   

THE HAPPY SLAVE.  
The Third Part.  
ASSEN got home, but was extremely astonished the Moor was not returned: he went to bed, but had very bad rest, fearing some ill accident had befallen the Moor. And considering of what dangerous consequence it might be to him in the present conjuncture, to be found to have held correspondence with Mahomet, he began to repent he had so rashly exposed himself to discovery. The thought of this kept him from sleeping; but at length the Moor arrived, and having given him an account what had stayed him so long, dissipated his fears, and quieted his Spirits.  
Assen was satisfied, took the Bassa's Letter, read it; and instantly dispatched the Moor back again, it being a pretty while before day, and a fitter time than at the fourth watch, as the Bassa had appointed by his Letter.  
The Bassa was surprised to see the Moor so quickly returned; but having heard the reason, he was not displeased, but hid him in his Tent; and as soon as it was night, sent him in search of his General confident and dearest friend the Master of the Galleys. Romadan, says he to him, with some disorder in his looks, what think you of me when I tell you I intent to lie at Tunis to night. I must tell you Sir, says Romadan the Master of the Galleys, I think you too wise to expose yourself to that hazard without assurance from our Friends there, that they will open you the Gates; nor do I believe you can take pleasure in putting your Country to Fire and Sword. You understand me not, replies the Bassa, when I tell you I design to lie at Tunis to night, 'tis not to execute my just vengeance against it; I am too tender of the Blood of my friends, to revenge myself by night, when I cannot distinguish my Friend from my Foe; I speak of going thither, only attended by a Moor I have here, to speak with Assen, to learn what passed at the Divan, to enter the Castle, see Laura, and return, Romadan heard him with that attention and silence, which sufficiently expressed his wonder and astonishment. He thought it unnecessary to use reasons to dissuade him from a design so rash and extravagant. The Bassa who read in his looks the substance of what he might have said to him. I confess, says he, I expose myself to some hazard, and that it is impudence, or (you may call it) folly to run such a risk; but that matters not, and to ease you of the fear of being charged for not telling me what you think of the business, I declare to you, I sent not for you to have your advice, whether I ought to put it in execution or not▪ for that's already resolved. The story they tell me of my Wife, that she is gone away with the Christian, and that Laura is at home with the Dey, are the things that prevail with me, nothing but a sight of her, can convince me 'tis true; the more I think of it, the more it perplexes me: I would be satisfied at least how the business was carried, and there is no knowing it but by the Slave. However, were the reasons I have told you, not sufficient to make you approve of the design, I cannot refuse an irresistible passion to so small a compliance.  
The Bassa having said this, held his peace, in expectation of Romadan's answer, who having for some time fixed his eyes on the ground, lift them up on the sudden, saying, God preserve you Sir from the mischief you run into; but if it be so ordained, you cannot avoid your destiny. Then he showed him the many obstacles and dangers he should meet▪ with before he could get to Assen. How impossible it was to effect some of the things he desired; that he could not enter the Castle without being discovered, and that for a sight of a Christian Girl his Slave, he hazarded the ruin of himself, his friend, and his party, that a little patience would make him master of his designs without pains or danger. The Bassa, instead of being persuaded by Romadan's reasons, expressed by his countenance a visible impatience to hear a discourse so unnecessary and useless after the resolution he had taken. His passion tempted him to try his fortune, and deprived him of patience as incompatible with love.  
The night being pretty well advanced, he disguised himself the best he could; and having given Romadan such orders as were necessary, that his absence might not be perceived, he went away with the Moor, who led him a way he came the night before: they entered the Town without meeting any, but being heard by Assen's House, they fell among a company of People belonging to the Divan, the Bassa's sworn Enemies: But by good fortune he passed undiscovered, for which he was obliged to the Moor, who being a witty fellow, told those who would have stayed them, that he was one sick of the Plague, whom he had in charge to carry to the Pest-house. This made them stand at a distance, and give them free passage; though that disease be not so dreadful there as in other places, being very common and ordinary in those parts.  
The Bassa was glad of so easy an escape; and when he got to Assen's, he rewarded the Moor according to the merit of so considerable a service.  
Assen was abroad at the Bassa 's arrival, but was extremely surprised at his return to see the Bassa there. Ah! Sir, said he, embracing him, is it possible you would hazard yourself thus? it might have been excusable in a harebrained young fellow, who had nothing to lose but his life, but for a man of your prudence and conduct, (being the second Person of the Kingdom) to come, without design perhaps, at least without necessity to throw yourself into your Enemy's hands, and expose your life to a thousand dangers. This Sir, how ill soever you take it, is a thing I can never pardon you: For Sir, adds he, what could have obliged you to hazard yourself thus?  
The Bassa fell a laughing, and taking all in good part that was spoken by Assen, whose kindness he was assured of, asked him if he had ever been in love, and whether he knew not that love had made the greatest of men guilty of faults, and that those faults had always their pardon: But Sir, said Assen, what have you to do with love? is it not Laura you are in love with? and is not she in the Castle? Yes, replies the Bassa, but being in your custody, it cannot be impossible to have a sight of her. Assen would have dissuaded him from the design, as the most extravagant and rash he had ever enterprised; but prevailed no more than the master of the Galleys. Strength of reason and fear of dangers are obstacles too weak to stop the progress of a passionate Lover. Love feeds upon hope, and death is not half so formidable as the happiness of seeing a Mistress is charming and pleasant. The Bassa resolved, whatever befell him, to go into the Castle. But it was impossible to do it by Night, the Gates being then open only for Assen, and others the Dey's principal Officers. So that it must of necessity be between Nine in the Morning and Six at Night; and the strict Examination they used in that time would have cooled any Man but the Bassa from proceeding in so desperate a design. But those Southern Lovers are too hot to be cold by Obstructions that appears invincible to others. Assen told him, he had no better way than to put him into one of the Meal-sacks he had order to send into the Castle on the morrow in a Cart. The Bassa was content, and thought it an excellent invention; and that there could be no danger in it at all. Having resolved on this, they past part of the Night in Discourse of the present posture of Affairs, what passed at the Divan, what designs the Dey had, what Forces were raised, and such other particulars as were necessary for the Bassa to know. After this, they went to Bed, where Assen took his rest; but as for Mahomet, he had no mind to sleep, he dreamt waking of the happiness of seeing the fair Laura on the morrow.  
At length the day appeared, and the Cart was loaded with Meal-sacks for the Castle, and among them the Bag with the Bassa in't, was so placed, that he lay pretty conveniently. The Moor led the Horses, and Assen walked at some distance before; the Castle-gate was opened▪ and no search made in the Cart, the Dey's Secretary was Personally Convoy to. They passed freely to the Magazine of Victuals, where several Moors instantly attended to unload; but Assen very dextrously got rid of them, sending them away on several Errands. This was well for the Bassa, who having been almost stifled in the Bag, had untied it, to take a little breath, and had certainly been discovered, had those Moors stayed in the Magazine. Assen left him there all that day, not thinking it fit to bring him to Laura till Night; so that he locked him up there, took the Key in his Pocket, and went to the Dey's Palace to learn what News.  
Poor Laura being all day alone, thought it very long, and with great impatience wished for the Night, that she might have a sight of her dear Friend Assen. At length the hour came he usually visited her, but no news of Assen, which troubled her extremely. At last, she heard the Door open, and rising to meet him, Did you but know, Assen, says she, the Sufferings I lie under in the condition I am in, having no Friend but you, you would not have made me pine so long for a sight of you; for in good truth, I am half dead with staying for you. Assen fell a laughing, and turning about to the Bassa, who followed him, here is one, says he, knows how to bring you to Life again, and I doubt not but for his sake you will pardon my long stay. Assen had not told the Bassa of the Ancient intimate Acquaintance he had with Laura; this made him interrupt her so quickly, to make her take notice of him. But he was so white all over with lying in the Meal-sack, that she took him for one of Assen's Men; but seeing him laugh, she viewed him more narrowly, and knew him, Oh Heavens! is it you, Sir? says she. Oh! whither are you come in search of an unfortunate wretch, which hath already given you so much trouble, and too great cause of complaint! It is easy, answers the Bassa, to pardon those we love. But is it possible you are here, and that the Sultaness is gone away in your stead? tell me, was it she that betrayed you, or was it Alexander? I know not what to think of it; but when I consider his proceedings in this last adventure, I cannot suspect him treacherous. For 'twas not his fault I discovered not the Sultaness, it was I hindered him to take off her Barnus, that I might see her, However, if she loved you, I am sufficiently Revenged of you, for you have lost more than I, and if he was false to you, you may comfort yourself with the assurance of the affection of a Person not so unworthy of your favour as he was. These last words put Laura to the blush; but making no answer to them, As for me, Sir, said she, I neither lost a Lover in him, nor have cause to charge him with falsehood, but must lay on my ill Fortune all the blame of my being left behind him. You surprise me much, replies the Bassa, and make me conclude you an excellent Dissembler, or myself the most abused Man in the World. Call to mind, Sir, says Laura, what I told you so often, that my affection for Alexander was very indifferent; and to be taken off when I pleased. The Ladies of your Country differ very much from those of Christendom in their course of Love; yours are very susceptible, easily take impression, and are equally unconstant. Ours are more shy of engaging in Love, but when engaged, their love is more lasting. You believed me a Turk, and several times did me Honours, due only to the Sultaness, whom you often mistake for me. The Sultaness, replies the Bassa, much surprised at the News. The very same, Sir, says Laura, for 'tis now time to disabuse you; and since I may justly glory to have made of my Passion for Alexander a Sacrifice to her Love, I may now be allowed to declare it, when she is out of all danger of inconvenience by my owning it. The Sultaness, Sir, continued she, more affected than I with the good qualities of that Christian, looked upon him as worthy of her Love. But permit me to say, you may thank yourself for it, who first sought out the means to gain the Honour of finding a Gallant for your Lady. You may believe, replies the Bassa, I designed no such matter, yet I pardon it in a Woman I had no kindness for. But the falseness of the Christian was unpardonably base, who besides the regard he should have had for the daily favours I did him, aught to have observed at least the Laws of Hospitality. The Sultaness, Sir, said Laura, had a Beauty of power to corrupt the most upright of Men; and had she been another's Wife, I durst not have undertaken for your integrity in the case. I had a desire to see the Christian; you brought him into the Seraglio; she had a sight of him: He was handsome, she loved him, and told him so; what could he do? The Bassa could not forbear laughing at her relating the story. And 'tis all the concern the Turks express for the falseness of their Wives, especially those they have no love for, having Seraglios well stored, and the privilege to change Wives at pleasure. The Bassa very patiently took the loss of his Sultaness, and told Laura it must be her fault if he should not be now more happy than ever. The subtle Slave, very sensible how useful he might be to her in the present conjuncture, thought it unseasonable to give him a repulse, but resolved to manage to advantage so good an overture; she told him only, that was not a time to make Love. You see, Sir, continueth she, I am here in a Prison, I know not how to get out of. But I know how to do it, replies the Bassa haughtily; and if within three days you be not at Liberty, I'll fill the Streets of this Town with the Bodies of the Inhabitants. Ah Sir! answers Laura, that were the way not to save me, but to hasten my Death. And it being known I am the cause of this Disorder, you may easily guests what Mercy I shall find. If you have, Sir, any value for my Life, since it may be saved without shedding Blood, and that matters are now in a way of accommodation, let me entreat you not to think of those horrible extremities. Believe me, says the Bassa, 'tis their design to amuse me, till the Troops they expect from Tripoli be arrived; but I shall take Order for that, and if you will prevent inconveniences that may happen, you must resolve to get out hence this Evening, and go along with me. Get out hence, Sir, replies Laura, and how shall it be done, out of a Castle where I am under Guard, and have so many Gates to pass? You see, says the Bassa, spite of all those Guards, and those Gates, I have entered, and resolve to get out again; and may not you so too? But, Sir, says Laura, consider I am a Woman, and however disguised, may be easily discovered by my gate, or my stature; and the least obstacle we meet with, will put me into such a fright, will infallibly ruin both you and me. Assen fortified her Reasons with his, and absolutely condemned the Enterprise proposed, as exposing the Bassa and her to apparent danger of inevitable ruin. You shall see, Sir, adds he, by the difficulty you and I shall find to get out, the trouble we should have to get a Woman along with us. I am of Opinion with the rest of your Friends, 'tis best to come to an accommodation. The Troops from Tripoli will be long a coming, and if you keep the Town straight blocked up a few days longer, you will oblige the People to Petition the Dey to make Peace, which we of your Party will not fail to help forward: And the Dey being of a timorous irresolute temper, will be glad of the pretence to come to an Agreement.  
The Bassa, though more inclined to violent than moderate actions, yielded this time to the persuasion of two Persons who were the dearest to him of any, and whose interest he knew it was not give him any Counsel to his disadvantage. He told them he would stay a Week longer, but if in that time neither the Threats nor Intercession of his Friends should prevail, he would make use of some Stratagem to reduce the Town; and if that failed, he would employ all his Force to bring the Dey to Reason.  
Assen was easily induced to assent to all this, knowing the Town was ill provided of Corn, and that the Inhabitants began already to be straightened, and murmured at the exigences they were reduced to, and not without cause, although it was given out these murmurs were raised by those of the Bassa's Party, in favour of his designs.  
The Bassa shifting his Discourse from the general affairs to his private concerns, desired Laura to give him a particular account of Alexander's Amour with the Sultaness, which Laura related in the most civil expressions she could, not forgetting the Adventure in the Chamber of Repose, where the Bassa had mistaken his Lady for her: the Bassa could hardly believe this, and was more vexed at it, than all the rest of the story. Then she told him the design the Sultaness and she had to go both aboard, and why the Sultaness had put herself into the Basket without acquainting Alexander with her intentions. I do verily believe it, said the Bassa, for I was in the Chamber when the Basket was brought in, and feigned it was you; and was unwilling Alexander should do you the least violence. I gave Order myself to have it carried aboard, and together with Alexander went along with it to the Port. Assen and Laura could not forbear laughing. The Bassa told them he was as ready to laugh at it as they, but that Laura made one of the party, and had a hand in putting the trick on him. For as for his Wife, the hatred he bore her Father, and the small kindness he had for her, were sufficient assurances he was not sorry to be rid of her. But he expected satisfaction from Laura for the ill Offices she had done him; none being more guilty than she of the Treason of the Sultaness. Raillery made up the rest of the Discourse, and the Night being far gone, Assen, not affected as the Bassa with the Charms of Laura, told him it was time to withdraw. The Bassa entreated him to stay a little longer, and said, while Night lasted, he thought there was no danger; and that he had not taken so much pains to enjoy that lovely Girl only for a moment. At last, Laura acquainted him with the fear she was in, having been so long together, which heightened the danger; giving the Guards cause to suspect so long an interview, and to stop his passage if he stayed much longer. The Bassa, to satisfy her, retired, making new protestations of a Passionate Lover, who would rather perish a thousand times, than not see her delivered from the hands of her Enemies by an Honourable Peace, or a bloody War.  
A new invention must be thought of for the getting out of the Castle, where the Examination was as strict almost at going out as at entrance. Assen led the Bassa back again to the Magazine, and having daubed his Face sufficiently with Meal, laid a parcel of empty Sacks on his shoulders, without any disturbance, past all the Guards with him, as a Servant of Assen's. It was not yet day; and the Bassa thought it fit to make use of his time, to return before Morning to the Camp, where he thought his presence very necessary. Assen bore him company to the Walls of the Town, and having helped him over, took his leave.  
Laura longed extremely to hear what was become of him, and could not rest till she saw Assen. Cheer you, Madam, said he, as he entered her Chamber. The Bassa is out of danger, and all will be well. Alas! dear Assen, answers she, peradventure things may go well, but not for me. You will be certainly set at Liberty, replies Assen, and in very few days. Yes, says Laura, I shall be set at Liberty from the Dey, to be made Prisoner to the Bassa, whose Passion will render my Imprisonment a thousand times more unfortunate than my present restraint. Herd you not what he said? And what will become of me, when in his power? Ah, Assen, adds she, with Tears in her Eyes, I did but too clearly foresee the misfortunes that did threaten me, unless Heaven divert them. A Maid of my Quality had better die a Prisoner, than buy her Liberty at that rate. Assen sighing for pity, answered, he had already thought of all she said, and that it was not without cause, he so much opposed the Bassa's designs of taking her away that Night. That he could have found means enough for it, had he thought it for her advantage; But that he resolved to represent to her first, how much harder it would be for her to get out of the Bassa's hands than the Dey's. And that he was very glad she had first spoken of it; that he would keep his word with her, to do her all the Service he could, to help her back into her Country; that he was very sensible it was as much as his Fortune was worth, and perhaps his Life; both which he must hazard in the case: but that he never scrupled to expose the one, or the other, but was ready to sacrifice both for the interest of a Family he was more indebted to; and that he was very willing to return among the Christians, whose Religion and Customs he loved far better than those of his Country.  
This ushered in a long Discourse of the Business in hand; the Conclusion was, that Assen should use the interest of his Friends with the Dey, to persuade him to set Laura at liberty, and send her back into her Country, to prevent the Confusion to be feared, if he should be obliged to restore her to the Bassa, and see her supply his Daughter St. Room. That, if this would not take, he should try the utmost extremities, to endeavour the getting her on board a Brigandine of his, which should be made ready to carry her away with the first Opportunity. Poor Laura, deeply sensible of the Obligation she had to so honest a Man, told him more than once, he might assure himself, she would not be ungrateful for so considerable Services; and that he should never fail of a Friend while she lived, but might command any thing in the power of her Family. Assen, who needed no promises to persuade him in this particular, took his leave; and went to spend the rest of the Night in thinking of the business, for which his inclination and gratitude were motives sufficiently powerful to engage his utmost endeavours. He slept not a wink, but as soon as it was day, he went to visit those he thought to make use of, to speak to the Dey. Of these, Beyran-Aga, the Dey's Favourite, was one, in whom he placed most confidence, as most favouring the Christians, and his particular Friend. He found him ready to serve him, but at the same time, he desired the favour of seeing the Slave. Assen fearing the effects of her Beauty on a young man, as the Aga, might obstruct the design, was so far from expressing a willingness to comply with him, that he strained his invention to find the most specious pretences to divert him. Beyran took it for a denial of his Request, and was somewhat displeased. He thought Assen was in Love with her, and told him only, he would do him all the Service in his power to persuade the Dey to give the fair Slave her Liberty. But the truth is, he endeavoured it but coldly; so that neither the Dey believed, a time might might come he might give Laura in exchange for his Daughter, or that the Bassa loving her as he did (in case of necessity) to make Peace with him, would for her sake grant him better Conditions, he was not of Opinion with Assen's Friends, who advised him to be rid of her.  
Assen much troubled his project had failed, resolved to put himself into a condition of stealing her away, helping to effect it as a thing depending entirely on himself. Beyran whose desires to see Laura increased, by the difficulty he found of obtaining it from Assen, would not ask it of him the second time; but went strait to the Dey, to beg leave to see her, under pretence of learning from her, the truth of what was reported concerning the Sultaness, and the Christian, who was fled. The Dey too well assured of the amour betwixt them, by the evidence of the Moor, who carried the Basket; and of several Women of the Seraglio, and other Circumstances little needed further Information. But Beyran being his Favourite, and thinking his request proceeded merely from curiosity of seeing the fair Slave, he granted it; and gave order to Laura's Guards to let him see her.  
This Favourite had heard the Slave was very handsome, but could not learn how long she had been at Tunis, nor how taken; fortune having so ordered it, that he addressed his inquiry to Persons that could give him no certain account.  
Assen had been busy that day, arming his Brigandine under pretence of sending her a cruising, and commanded his People, being almost all Christian Slaves, to be ready at the Cape of Carthage to sail with the first Orders. Laura was disposed the night before, to venture passing the Sea in that little Vessel: The weather was fair, the Season pleasant, and they hoped, if the wind served, to reach the Isle of St. Peter in two days. Assen goes to visit her, and finds her trembling for fear: Madam, says he, this is not a time to tremble, but to arm yourself with Resolution and Courage. I am a Woman, Assen, answers she, and one unhappy enough to have cause to fear the worst, both for you and myself. Assen endeavoured to hearten her, saying, she should be set at liberty on the morrow, and that he would take her out of the Castle without difficulty or danger. Laura was in fear still, and so much disordered, she knew not where to begin to provide for her escape; when on the sudden, she heard her Chamber door open, and turning about, saw a man enter, which frighted her so (apprehending a discovery) that she fell in a Swoon with these words in her mouth; Ah! Lord we are undone! Assen extremely surprised at the accident, and the Moor foreseeing the Aga, knew not what to think might occasion his company thither, believing it could not be, but in behalf of the Dey. Both Beyran and he were busy about Laura, holding her up, but of the two Beyran seemed most concerned. He viewed and reviewed her Countenance, her stature, her hair, her hands, with a diligence and trouble too extraordinary, not to surprise Assen, to whom he had not yet said a word. But all on the sudden, giving free passage to a thousand sighs, his surprise had stopped or suspended: Oh Heavens! Cries he as a man transported, 'tis she, 'tis she, my Dear Eleanor. And at the same time falling down at her knees, embraced them with that tenderness and height of affection, you would have thought he would have died there for joy. These words and transports, and hearing him call her Eleanor, surprised Assen, he knew not whether it was the Aga he saw there, or some other that had borrowed his shape. Laura the mean while was pretty well come to herself, and angry at seeing at her feet a man she knew on no other account, but that the sight of him had almost cost her life, struggled the best she could to get from him But the Aga, with eyes full of tears, and not able to say a word▪ held her so much the faster. Laura extremely astonished, Sir, says she, if this be an effect of pity, you have for the fortune of an unfortunate Slave, I have done ill to be so much alarmed at the sight of you. But I thought you came on a design contrary to my wishes. You little know, Madam, says the Aga, with a languishing tone, the Person prostrate before you.  
Laura, feigning she knew the voice, fixed her eyes on him to take a better view: Heavens! cries she, what do I see, is it possible it should be he? With that she falls into a second Swoon into the arms of Assen, who much troubled at it, entreated the Aga to withdraw a little, fearing the sight of him might be the death of the poor Maid, not knowing who he was. What say you, says the Aga? Alas! she knows me too well, being the sole cause of all her misfortunes. Assen, I know you be honest, and my very good Friend, and therefore I apprehend no danger in telling you, she is a Person, whose Merits as well as Birth make her worthy your Care; and one for whom I would lose a thousand Lives to save her from harm. Assen hearing this, fell from one astonishment to another, and would have fain cleared the Mystery of the Adventure, but was so busied with endeavouring to fetch Laura again, that he thought it convenient to respite the Discourse to a fitter Opportunity. The Aga extremely concerned, assisted him with extraordinary diligence; and Laura beginning to take breath, Assen asked her, if she desired that Turk should quit the Room, and told her, he was the Aga, the Dey's Favourite, he had told her of. She making no answer, turned her dying Eyes towards the Aga, and with a languishing voice, Ah cruel, said she, What Fate brought thee hither to persecute me to Death? Beyran could not hear that Language, without falling the second time at her feet, and washing them with a torrent of tears without speaking a word: Leave me Traitor, says she, leave me, that I may die in quiet, rather than be deluded again with thy tears, which deceitfully as they are, have but too strong an effect on my feeble heart. Assen the spectator of so tender a Scene, having fresh in memory the story of Laura, with Marquis Hippolito, and Don Alphonso, knew not what to think of it. The Aga was a Renegado arrived at Tunis a year before; and Assen fancied he might be one of those Lovers, and rather the Marquis Hippolito, than Don Alphonso. Laura in the height of her anger, having expressed a tenderness for him, which she could not have retained, but for one she had loved. He had a desire to know the bottom of the business, but thought it unseasonable to interrupt them, and was in hopes this Scene would end in a discovery of the Mystery. Yet being himself straightened in time, and that they were fallen into a deep silence, using only expressions of mutual sighs. He thought fit to say to the Aga (whom he sufficiently perceived no Enemy of Laura's) had my former acquaintance with you been too small to give me hopes, you would not cross the design we have in hand; yet Sir, what I have but now seen and heard, were enough to persuade me, you will be so far from obstructing it, that I assure myself, we shall have your assistance to compass it. By my request to you yesterday, you know my endeavours for the Liberty of this Slave: those proved ineffectual but I have thought of other means, which if you please, we will execute this evening. You know well enough the Bassa is passionately in love with her, if we give him time to see her once more, it will not be in our power to get her out of his hands: If a War be resolved on, it will be equally difficult to save her: And who knows but she may be put to death here, the People being already extremely incensed against her, as the cause of all this disorder; and upon the noise of a War, they will be too apt to make her a Sacrifice. Let us be wise in time, all things are in readiness, and if you will make use of them presently, I do warrant the success. The Aga looked upon him as a man newly out of a Trance, and oppressed with grief. Let us do, Dear Assen, says he, whatever you think fit; for in the condition that I am in, I am not capable to give you any reasonable Counsel, but will do all you shall desire of me, and employ my whole power in the Castle to favour your design, and help this Lady out of danger. Ingrateful man, answers Laura, do you speak of helping me out of danger? you who are the cause of all my misfortunes. Go wretch, go, I'll never be so much obliged to you, but choose rather to die here in Prison, than not to have still just cause to reproach you. This is not time, Madam, says Assen, (whose conceptions were too gross to apprehend the delicacy of her Sentiments) to refuse any help, especially the Aga's, who being Captain of the Guard, can give order for opening us the Gates, when we please, without stop or examination. What confidence can we repose, answers she, in the most perfidious of men? No, no, Assen, were it possible for him to be more honest on this occasion, than he was faithful in his love, I will rather die than make use of his assistance, after the double Treason he committed against me: The very thought of it, adds she with tears, is more cruel than Death. 'Tis true, Madam, says Beyran, with the most moving action imaginable: I have deserved death, yet peradventure I am not so guilty as you think me. Don Alphonso and Clarice, who betrayed us both, have expiated their Crimes with their Death, and if mine must be punished with equal rigour, my life is at your dispose. You see me in a Country, Madam, whither nothing but despair on the news of your death, occasioned my coming; for after diligent search of the way you had taken, having been told you were embarked for Barcelona, I took the same road, and arrived at that City, where soon after it was reported, the Vessel you embarked in was cast away, and not one Person saved. Never was grief equal to mine, every one pitied me; nor had I escaped death, but that Heaven moved at my tears, reserved me the happiness of seeing you again, to justify myself before you, and not die in your ill opinion, the thing next the loss of you, I was most of all troubled for. The life I have since led, hath been full of afflictions sufficient to expiate any Crime, if not committed against you. Laura took pleasure to hear him, and heartily wished to find it true. He was not so much to blame as she believed. But the evidence was so apparent against him, that the very thought of what she had seen, made her more angry than ever, so that she commanded him out of her sight, bid him quit the Town, and never see her more. Poor Beyran being still on his knees, endeavoured with the kindest and most tender expressions imaginable to pacify her. Assen, who by this time was sufficiently assured he was the Marquis Hippolito under the name of Beyran, moved with his tears, took his part against Laura, whom he thought not inflexible, and entreated her to have some regard to the penitence of so tender a Lover, ready to deliver her out of all her troubles, and free her from Slavery which he had occasioned; but perhaps without any fault of his, and so against his will. But Laura more angry than before (at least in appearance) answered, she valued not her Slavery, but would choose rather to return to the Bassa, than go away with a man she hated worse than Death. This troubled Assen, but he could not despair to see the fair Lady yield at last to the pains and tears of a Lover, though she appeared unwilling to be overcome by the persuasions of a Friend.  
For anger in a Lady's heart,  
Is but short lived, though it may be smart,  
Against their Crimes who have the Art  
To please;  
For these  
No sooner at the Bar appear,  
Kneel, sigh, look sad, and drop a tear;  
But they with ease,  
A pardon for the offence obtain,  
And are admitted into Grace again:  
While the fair Judge, whose angry brow,  
Loured, and looked terrible but now,  
To the poor Lover there below,  
Finding her tender heart relent,  
Begins her Anger to repent;  
Thinks herself Criminal, that she,  
So rigorous to him could be;  
Owns her Severity a fault,  
And that she may it expiate,  
Submits his Prisoner to remain,  
Bound in her own affections Chain.  
Laura's heart was of this temper, she thought herself concerned in honour not to yield too soon. Assen did her no small pleasure in taking the part of Marquis Hippolito, whom we will yet call Beyran. And she was very willing Assen should have the honour of obtaining from her a pardon for the ungrateful Beyran, if he could plead any thing to justify himself, or extenuate the Treason he was guilty of, but that would have ushered in a Discourse too long for the present conjuncture, and Assen told the Aga, if he had a mind to execute the design he had told him of, he must be at the Cape of Carthage before day; for there the Brigandine waited their coming. Beyran answered, it was impossible to get that night out of the Castle, the Dey having not above two hours since had news from the Spies, he maintained about the Bassa, that the night before, the Bassa entered the Town, whereupon the Dey gave strict order no Person should go out or in but by day. Laura and Assen were surprised at the news, and perceived the Bassa had been in danger. Beyran seeing Laura a little mollified, was extremely desirous to improve so happy a beginning by a suitable progress to an entire pacification. But though she saw him much troubled and very penitent, she gave him not the comfort of a kind expression or look, but against her inclination forced herself to appear harsh, and act the cruel against him. Assen, who thought one night at least necessary to be afforded Laura, to dispose herself for an entire Reconciliation; and that being upon the point of executing so hazardous a design, care should be had to take their measures aright, asked the Aga whether he thought it not fit to retire, lest being seen to come from Laura so late, he might give cause of suspicion. The Aga answered, he need fear nothing, the Dey having given him full power to stay as long as he pleased. But Laura, who had more reason to be of Assen's than of the Aga's opinion, who was wholly led by his passion, spoke to him, though somewhat against her will, to withdraw. The Aga ready to obey this order, begged the favour of her to give him hopes at least, she would pardon him, if he made it appear he was altogether innocent as to the matter of Alphonso, and that her hatred of him should be at an end. She made him no answer, but her eyes betrayed her heart; and spoke clearer in his favour than her voice could have done, Beyran kissed one of her hands, which she could not refuse him, and left her full of that evenings adventures which found her entertainment. The rest of that night not knowing what to think of Beyran's fortune, whom she believed, turned Turk for despair; at the thought of this, the tears trickled down her Cheeks, and she perceived, that if what he told her was true, of her having been betrayed by her Maid, and that he had not any hand in Alphonso's base action, as in truth it was scarce credible he had, she would love him more than ever, and pardon his being found with the Vice-Queen, though this was a tender point, and not to be remembered without a volley of sighs.  
Assen found the Aga's news true, and not able to get out of the Castle, went with him to his apartment, where the pretended Renegado caused a Bed to be provided him, but they spent the whole night in discourse. Assen you may believe had an itching curiosity to hear the story of Marquis Hippolito, having heard Laura's; Assen as soon as they were private, fell into that discourse. The Aga, who knew how much he wanted Assen's help to plead for him to Laura, was ready to pleasure him with the relation, and having understood Laura had told him part of what concerned her, he was willing to acquaint him with what came not to her knowledge, and began thus.  
When I arrived at Naples, I found there the Vice-Roys Son, whom I was acquainted with in my younger days, and renewed our friendship, established rather in the conformity of our age, than of our Inclinations: he brought me to Court, and esteemed it necessary a new-comer should be a little instructed in the passages there, he took the pains to tell me all the principal Intrigues and Affairs of Love, and made me the Confident of his Passion for the fair Eleanor, expecting from the fair friendship between us, I would, when acquainted with her, do him the best service in my power; I had a sight of her, and by the first effects of that view, could easily foresee there was no continuing Alphonso 's Friend, without becoming his Rival: I was troubled at it, and reproached myself for my unfaithfulness; but what signified that when there was love in the case? There was no resisting Eleanors charms, and I had instantly taken the resolution to love her, had not the Vice-Queen used all possible arts to divert me; she expressed no small complaisance for me, which I attributed to the friendship between her Son and me. But having found me one day in deep meditation, she asked me, whether I would freely acknowledge the cause of my melancholy, if she could guests what it was, and might serve me in the business? I assured her I would; she adds, I was under the Fate of many other unfortunate Lovers, who could not see Eleanor, without being affected with the excellency of her Beauty. I was strangely surprised, to find a passion scarce entertained in my Soul, already known to the Vice-Queen, and could not imagine how she came by the discovery of a secret, I had resolved to keep close as long as possibly I could: it was not in my power to deny it; the trouble in my face and change of my colour, having given her sufficient evidence, how truly she had guessed. I told her I found myself too weak to resist the Charms of that beautiful Maid, and was sorry only Don Alphonso her Son, and my Friend was concerned: she answered, that a passion we cannot master, was not to be complained of, nor blamed, and that her Son could not be so unreasonable, as not to pardon my falling into a distemper, himself had been afflicted with. But she believed, I should prove as unfortunate as her Son; but to keep her word with me, she would let me see, my concerns were more dear to her than the Interest of her Son: but I must not blame her, if her endeavours should prove ineffectual, which she had too much cause to expect, from the strange and unparallelled insensibility of that fair Maid, that she would speak for me that very day, and see what hopes of a favourable reception, and whether she defied Love, out of a general aversion for Mankind, or a particular disgust against some of that Sex. The same time she assigned me Ten a Clock at night, to meet her in the great Walk in the Garden, to receive an account of her Negotiation: I was there to wait for her, and she kept her Assignation. I saw her come with one of her Maids, who was her Confident; and having given her my hand to lead her into a Bower, I went in with her trembling, for fear of having ill News, which I presently apprehended from her Countenance. Poor Marquis, says she, you have no better fortune than others; this Girls heart is proof to all Essays; and did you but know that ill-favoured description and scurvy character she gave of you, you would soon judge it to no purpose to apply yourself to her: but I would have you believe, I say not this to discourage you, but should be sorry to see a young Gentleman as you, have qualities worthy the esteem of a fair Lady, should employ them, where there is not any hopes to prevail. I had certainly suspected this extraordinary condescension, and goodness of the Vice-Queen, had not what she said been agreeable to the report of the whole Court, that the fair Eleanor was the most insensible person in the World. I knew well enough, 'twas not any concern she had for the passion of her Son, made her speak as she did; she loved him very little, and the complaisance she had expressed for me, secured me on that side. I might have been so sagacious and quicksighted, as to see she spoke for herself, and advised me to quit the thoughts of Eleanor, to gain herself Advantage; but I was so oppressed with grief at the News, that I was utterly incapable of making any reflection: she was a Lady, the most dexterous and insinuating on Earth, and made so good use of the power she had over me, that she not only shook the passion I was under, but helped me to take resolution to rid myself of it, though with the loss of my life. To bring this about, I thought it necessary to find another Beauty to amuse my Affections; but wherever I cast my eyes, in the Court, or out of it, I could discover nothing capable to make me forget one moment, the Charms of the beautiful Eleanor. The Vice-Queen having after that evening said nothing to me of it, saw me one morning alone in her Chamber, where her Son had newly left me; she asked me smiling, Whether I had taken her advice, and followed her Counsels? Madam, answered I, that cannot be done, without my having equal command over my Affections, as you have over yours; or finding at least in another Lady, those Excellencies I admire in the fair Eleanor. This Discourse had not pleased her, could she have thought herself of the number of those others I mentioned, not comparable to Eleanor. But the good opinion she had of herself, and the respect due to her quality, contributed to the good construction she made of my expressions, so that my words gave no offence; but on the contrary, being extremely glad, no Beauty at Court but Eleanor's pleased me, she told me smiling, She would find me out a Person, that wanted nothing of what might engage the affections of a gallant man, and that she was very well assured, I would not deny it. I gave her a thousand thanks, not doubting in the least of the good success of her choice, but was very unwilling to abuse her great goodness: that as to Eleanor, she had done her pleasure; but that the respect due to her, would not permit me to give away, she should be at the trouble to find me a Mistress. She told me, she took delight in't; that she was loath any one's Affections should be lost for want of being engaged; and that knowing my merit, she would think it a pleasure to serve me, and take care I wanted nothing in her Court.  
All this she said with an air so free, so full of goodness, it charmed me: And I had almost answered, She might without further search, find in herself what she promised me elsewhere. The truth is, setting aside her Age, she might have passed for one of the fairest and best humoured Women of the Kingdom; but I was not willing to venture so far for fear of miscarriage, and was content to wait for a sight of her, she would provide for me. I desired her not to make me languish, being an impatient Lover, and in a condition required present remedy. She assured me, I should hear from her that day, and that I had no more to do, but prepare myself to be deeply in Love.  
At this we were interrupted by company coming in, which obliged me to withdraw. I spent the rest of the morning in musing of what passed between us, guessing sometimes she meant one Lady, sometimes another of those I knew most intimate with her, and most proper for the design, but could not fix my judgement on any. This gave me some disquiet and trouble, with an impatient desire to see the Vice-Queen again. I made in the afternoon forty journeys to Court, to see if she had any thing to say to me; she laughed at my haste, and at length told me, my hour was not yet come, nor the day gone; that I should go home and have patience, and when the time came, she would send me news. Night came, but no news from the Vice-Queen, which made me believe, she fooled me; so that I could not forbear returning to the Palace, where I heard she was gone to visit a Lady her Friend. I was so ready to imagine it was the Lady she spoke of, that I enquired her name, and where she lived; but could not learn either. The caution she had used in that particular, fully convinced me, she was gone about my business, and that she made the visit private, that my love might be as secret; and the Court kept ignorant, how far her complaisance had carried her to serve me.  
I returned in all haste to my Lodging, as assured of all this; nor was I much mistaken, for I was scarce got thither, but I received from her a Billet, brought me by a Lady attended with two Chairs, and expressed as follows.  
I have done what you desired, and I think, found out the person you wanted; you will easily confess I am very much your friend: the sole acknowledgement I expect is, you would not make me a Liar, having promised the Lady that upon the bare description I made you of her, you would bring her a heart full of love. See you do it, for it you deceive me in this, I shall never pardon you the fault. You have no more to do but follow her that brings you this Billet without noise or attendance; for you are to come into a place of safety.  
Had it come from any other I should not have gone without a Guard at distance, but coming from the Vice-Queen, I could not suspect danger. All I thought of it was, that being a jovial and pleasant Lady, she had a frolic in her head, and resolved to put on me some pleasant trick: without more ado, I made me ready to laugh with her in good earnest: I went into one of the Chairs, and followed her who brought the Billet, and was got into the other. They carried us a great way into a private part of the Town, and there set down the Chairs which my Guide sent away, and we marched a little further, till we came to a house which made a fair show; I learned afterwards it belonged to a Lady of her Bedchamber, her Confident, who indeed was my Guide, and having opened the door, made me go in without noise: I saw neither lackey nor light. This surprised me, and made me the more confident, some frolic intended: I sald not a word but prepared, in case things went not as I could wish, to have my share of the mirth with them, who came to laugh at my cost. At last the Lady took me by the hand to lead me up a pair of stairs in the dark, which brought us to a room no lighter than the stairs, and thence into a Chamber where were two Flamboys lighted. It appeared a good room, but what pleased me most was, the sight of a fair Lady, who carelessly laid on a very rich bed, seemed asleep with her hood over her face. I began to repent my censure of the Vice-Queen, whom I then thought to have written in good earnest: I say nothing in this Lady but what pleased me extremely, and to speak the truth, it was the sole moment I may be said to have forgot the fair Eleaner, since I loved her. She was in a loose dress, but handsome, and rich beyond expression: I had not seen the like at Court, and knew not what to think, the Richness of the furniture, as well as her dress declaring her to be a Lady of no ordinary quality: but I was very much perplexed to guests who she was. I made up to her, and spoke; and the amorous impatience I had to know her not permitting the use of much Ceremony towards the Lady that stayed for me▪ I put my knee to the Ground, and laying Hold on one of her fair hands, which she allowed me to kiss; It was but reason, Madam, said I, I should have languished all this day as I have done, who could not expect this happiness, without being put to the pain at least of longing for it. I looked for an answer in hopes to know the voice, but she said not a word. I entreated her to ease me of the pain, she might believe I was in, and that if she resolved not to be seen, she would however vouchsafe to speak to me, that where I was directed to bring a heart of love, I hoped to see a Lady that had Beauty and Wit; that as yet she had only moved my curiosity, but if she meant to reach my heart, I must see her. As I spoke thus, I perceived her laugh, which gave me the boldness to lift up her hood: She put back my hand, but so weakly, I thought it would not displease her to press a little further: there were but we two in the Room, her Confident having doubtless received Orders to withdraw, and I was ready to put her to the squeak, when at last she threw off her hood. But how was I surprised to see 'twas the Vice-Queen. Well Sir, says she, blushing, will you be content with your good fortune? And will it not be presumption in me to fancy myself capable to make you forget all other Beauties. I answered her more like a Gallant than a Lover: she was satisfied however, and without engaging further in the relation of a discourse, of which you may guests the consequence, I will tell you only that having spent two or three hours in her company, I returned to my lodging the way I came, and she to the Palace.  
I saw her on the morrow, and our Correspondence held for some time, but cured not my passion. Her Son with whom I had particular as well as general reasons to maintain a fair Correspondence, expressed more friendship for me than I could have wished: he was not content to make me the Confident of his affection, but employed me to speak for him to the fair Eleanor, expecting more benefit from the Intercession of such a Friend, than any addresses of his own: I did, and you have doubtless heard from her; she let me understand, I should speed better in speaking for myself then for him, 'twas then I thought myself the most unfortunate of men, for believing so easily what the Vice-Queen had said to me, whose conduct convinced me sufficiently, how far she concerned herself in my business. I designed that moment to abandon her favour, and give myself up entirely to my first passion; but to prevent the trouble I might expect from the Vice-Queen, if she knew it, I thought fit to dissemble a little, and disengage myself by degrees without declaring on the sudden for Eleanor. I observed the best I could the measures I had taken, but 'tis a difficult matter to conceal a passion from a jealous and a witty Woman. The Vice-Queen perceived my relapse, before I made Eleanor acquainted with it; she punished my Apostasy with a thousand reproaches, which were seconded with tears, and I (the better to manage her) pretended a firm Re-ingagement to her. But what will not a slighted Lady do? or what more dangerous than a jealous Woman? I was thenceforward more curious of seeing and speaking with the beautiful Eleanor, and avoided the occasions of being found in her company, which the Vice-Queen was by, but all to no purpose: the Vice-Queen knew all, and so well discerned what was true, from what was feigned, that she guessed exactly right of the privatest of my thoughts. One day as I walked with her in the Garden, she told me, we had both lost time to no purpose, I in forcing myself against my Inclination, to pretend continuance of affection for her, and she in endeavouring to make me love, though against my will: That she saw well enough what I now did, was but the effect of my civility to a Lady of her quality, who had expressed kindness for me. But 'twas time to put an end to our pain, and to satisfy me she intended it. She assured me, she would no longer oppose my Inclination, and that I would believe it, upon the Confession she made me, that I might expect from Eleanor not only a kind reception, but something of love; yet I put no great confidence in all these good words, as coming from a party too liable to suspicion: But when by an Excess of goodness she added, that to convince me, she was more my Friend then I could Imagine, she would contribute more than any other to my satisfaction; and procure a Letter from the Viceroy to Eleanor's Father, to persuade him to consent I should have his Daughter I was so transported with joy, I could not forbear making her very large acknowledgements. She told me, I should see by the answer to that Letter what good Service she had done me: She did as she promised, and after the Letter she procured from the Viceroy, I doubted not of being completely happy in few days. The news was confirmed by the beautiful Eleanor, and I had the pleasure to see her glad of it as I was: nothing troubled me then but the slow pace of time. The Viceroy had sent an express to Genes, but the Courier was scarce got a Horseback, but I wished him returned: every moment seemed a year by my longing and impatience: the only pleasure I had, was the time I was in Eleanor's company, who assured on her part of the success of the Viceroy's Recommendation, who had great Interest with her Father, and sensible of the pain I was in to have the matter confirmed; had not the power to deny my passion the favour of a visit, which I begged I might make her, having engaged myself to her with all the promises and oaths, to be expected on such an occasion from a Lover beloved. The assignation was made, and her Chamber agreed for the place of Rendezvous. Pardon me, my dear Assen, for fetching a sigh at the remembance of that day, which should have been a time of love and of joy, but was the most dismal and unfortunate of my life.  
Night was come, and when I thought myself just ready to be possessed of so great a happiness, Clarice, who waited on Eleanor in her Chamber, and was her intimate Confident, brought me a Billet, I will show you, having by good fortune kept it safe to this minute. With that he took out a little Purse from his pocket, and out of the Purse the Billet, which he read to Assen in these words.  
I am heartily sorry, my dear Hippolito, I must fail my assignation. But an unhappy accident I must not now tell you of, will for a few days retard our happiness: you may believe me, as sensible of it as you are, but love me as you have done. Love will furnish us with opportunity enough, Adieu.  
I had never received a Letter from Eleanor, nor knew her Character; so that it was easy for Clarice to make me believe that Billet came from her: I asked her what her Mistress ailed; Nothing, says she laughing, but that she is not very well this evening. I fancied I understood her meaning, and examined her no further; but withdrew sufficiently displeased with my ill fortune that night, when a Page of the Vice-Queens met me coming down stairs, and told me, his Lady desired to speak with me. In the humour I was in, I could have wished a Dispensation from waiting upon her; but not knowing what excuse to make being so near her, and fearing she might have something to tell me from Eleanor, being the common subject of her discourse with me, I followed the Page into her Chamber, where I found her expecting my coming: she was at her Toilet, and the Viceroy being out of Town, as soon as she saw me, she reproached me for deserting her so: she could of late scarce see me in the crowd; that if I would not out of Gallantry, I should at least out of civility have afforded her my company, when destitute of other. I was not disposed for giving her so pleasing an answer as I would have done another time, however I said not any thing to disoblige her: I was melancholy and vexed, but so deeply in love, I had a stock of kindness, and complaisance which abundantly furnished me with pleasing expressions, which the Vice-Queen did not disapprove of: I had not seen her in a better humour; and falling into discourse, she kept me with her a great part of that night; but she thought me out of humour, and quarrelled with me upon't: I excused myself, as having sat up all the night before at play. Hereupon she invited me to lie on her Bed; I was privileged to be familiar, and without further entreaty made use of my liberty: for the truth is, I was almost dead for want of sleep; within less than two hours I was awaked on the sudden by the light of a Flamboy, held before my eyes, and the first object I saw, was Eleanor with a Poniard in her hand, to take away my life, had not Don Alphonso laid hold on her arm, and prevented the stroke. Judge you what amazement I was in, I might with some reason have suspected all this a Dream: But my Rival having seized the Poniard, to execute what he had hindered Eleanor to do, had she not done me in her turn the like Service. I thought it high time to take care of my life, and running to my Arms, put myself in a posture of defence. The Vice-Queen half dead with the fright, came running to part us, but was like to have been killed by her Son, who seemed as eager to dispatch her as me: I happily saved her two or three times, and at last standing before her, the fury Don Alphonso was in, made him run on my Weapon, and kill himself rather than be killed by me: I saw him fall, which troubled me extremely, foreseeing the dreadful Consequence of such a misfortune. I turned towards the unhappy Mother, to ask her what she would do, and found her swoon away, and lying without motion: I was so much afflicted with the spectacle, I wished myself dead: at last necessity pressing me to withdraw, I entered Eleanor's Chamber, to see her once more, and die at her feet, if she desired my life to expiate my fault, but I found her not, and so left the Palace without any obstacle. My design was to pass into Sicily, and being in search of a Felucca to embark in, found Clarice almost drowned in tears at the Port. I knew her, and asked whither she went, and what she would have: Ah Sir, said she, I have been looking for my Mistress, who the Mariners tell me, is embarked not a quarter of an hour since for Barcelona. I was strangely surprised at the news, and without further deliberation, took the first Felucca I met, and Clarice being very willing to go with me in search of her Mistress, or rather to get away from a Court, where she had reason to fear the severest extremities, after the disorder lately happened, wherein she knew herself concerned; I put her aboard, and had the weather so favourable, we hoped to reach Barcelona before Eleanor could be there. I took care to inquire the Name of the Felucca she was embarked in, and the Masters. I was till than so distracted and oppressed with grief and despair, it was not in my power to make any resolution on all these misfortunes; but being got to Sea, I recollected myself, and considered all those disasters; but the more I thought on them, the more was I perplexed about them. I could not imagine by what accident Don Alphonso and Eleanor should be altogether to surprise me in the Vice-Queens Chamber; unless we had been betrayed, or Don Alphonso more in favour with Eleanor than I believed: and if that were so, why should my Rival prevent my death, as he did, and why did she take her turn too, to save my life from Alphonso, unless both were ambitious of the hour to have killed me. However I must confess I deserved death, and wish I had received it at Eleanor's hand; I should not then have had the displeasure of imbruing my hands in the Blood of a Person, who had all the reason in the World to be revenged of me.  
Clarice was very ill in the Felucca, of the fright she had taken, or else Sea-sick. I had not seen her all the time of the disaster at Naples, I told her part of the story, and found it so much afflicted her; especially when I acquainted her with the death of Alphonso, she grew worse and worse: I asked her several questions, which she answered with a great deal of trouble, pretending Ignorance, but in such a manner as gave me cause enough to suspect the contrary, and believe she was more concerned in this business than I was aware of: I was unwilling to press her in the condition she was in, to reveal the secret, though I was curious of a discovery, but hoped to make it, when she should be a little better.  
We arrived at Barcelona, but no news of the Bark Eleanor went aboard of: I resolved to have patience a while, as well as the Merchants, who had effects in it of great value: But how careful soever I was of Clarice, she grew worse than at Sea, and all the Physicians could do for her, prevented not her being reduced to that extremity, they gave her over as desperate; so that finding herself at death's door, she sent for me to her Chamber, and having desired to speak with me in private, the rest of the company quitted the Room, and she told me, that Don Alphonso having gained her, she did him all the Service she could against me with her Mistress; and having overheard part of my last discourse with Eleanor, she instantly acquainted my Rival with it, who transported with rage and despair, against a design so fatal to his Affection, resolved by any means to defeat it, and if possible make advantage of it for himself. That in order to this, he made her write a Letter, and carry it me, as from her Mistress; that Don Alphonso took his time, and his measures accordingly, having learned from her the hour, and the manner of my coming to Eleanor's Chamber; that he got in without difficulty: but what passed further, she knew not; only some hours after, hearing the noise of Swords, she ran in, where she found her Mistress all in disorder, packing away; that she would have followed her, but her Mistress begged of her to let her go alone. At last finding the noise increase in the Vice-Queens Chamber, she was frighted, and went towards the Port, where I found her; with that the unhappy Girl with abundance of tears, begged that now at her death, I would pardon her a Crime had cost her her life. She said no more, but two hours after died: I will not tell you the different motions of my heart, during the dismal Relation this Wretch made me; but the appearance of Death in her face made me pardon her. As for Don Alphonso, I heartily wished him alive again, as not sufficiently punished by one Death for his Treason; but the Traitors being both in another World, I had no Subject to exercise my Revenge on, unless my ill Fate, against which I spent my time in fruitless Complaints.  
To complete my misery, News came, the Bark we expected was lost, which was confirmed by Advice from several Parties. Never man in such despair as I; I will not tell you the extravagancies it made me run into; it distracts me to think on't: there was no other remedy to bring me to myself, but to persuade me the News from Sea were not so sure, but that we had reason to expect further Confirmation, and that Vessels reported cast away, came frequently safe into Port: that the Sea was a large Country, and one Vessel might be easily mistaken for another, and that many fell into the hands of the Turks, which were supposed to have been wracked, because they were not heard of. This gave me but small comfort; yet I thought I had some reason of hope, undertaking a Voyage to visit all the Ports of the Levant, till I should learn some certainty of the Felucca I was in search of.  
The Aga having finished his Story, Assen told him, he was very glad for his sake, that Matters passed otherwise than Eleanor believed; that it would be no hard matter to make his peace, when she understood the Treachery of her Chambermaid; that he was not to wonder at the Anger she expressed against him, for that she knew not any of the Particulars he related to justify himself, but suspected him of Intelligence with Don Alphonso to betray her. Heavens! is it possible, cries Hippolito, she should do my Love the injury, to entertain such a thought of me! had I not loved her as I did, could she fancy me capable of so much baseness? Sir, said Assen, when there's Evidence against us, and no Plea in defence for our justification, we are easily cast: what could you expect a Lady dishonoured by the Son, should have believed of you, whom she found in the Arms of the Mother, but that he sacrificed the one to you, that you might leave him the other. Ah! Assen, replies the Aga with a sigh, let's talk no more of what's past; as innocent as I am of the one side, I must acknowledge myself guilty of the other. But let me entreat you to excuse and extenuate the fault as much as you can before her; or rather never speak of it, but endeavour only to disabuse her, and alter the ill opinion she hath of me, and assure yourself, whatever Fortune befall me, I will not be ungrateful for the Service you will do me. I believe you have heard from her who I am, and if the condition she is in, or any other Reason, hath obliged her to conceal her Birth, and other things concerning her, that might render her more worthy the zeal you have for her Service, I will satisfy your curiosity in every particular. Assen thanked him, and fell a laughing, and answered, He had known her too long to want Instructions in those Particulars, and could give a better account of her Birth and Family than any Person whatever. The Aga, surprised at it, entreated him earnestly to let him understand, how he being a Turk, should so long and so particularly know her. Assen told him the Story, and part of what happened at Genes.  
It was day by that time Assen had done, which put them in mind of taking some resolution about the design in hand, and the means to be made use of, to get Laura out of the Castle without danger. They thought of several ways, but all appeared full of uncertainty and inconvenience; yet they two could best do it of any, the one having all the power over Laura's Guards, and the other over the Garrison of the Castle. But all things were so strictly examined by the vigilance of the inferior Officers, whom the Dey (a man as vigilant as fearful) had strictly commanded to be always on Guard, and not permit any to come in, or go out, without taking exact notice of them, that it was absolutely necessary to take right measures, and still fear the success. Assen at length bethought himself of a Stratagem, the less subject to discovery, as covered under a cloak of Religion, though in truth, apt to startle a nice Girl as Laura. There was a Soldier of the Castle dead the night afore, to be buried that day; he resolved to lock up the Corpse in a Chamber, and carry out Laura on the Bier, as if she had been the Soldier, to be buried in the Churchyard behind the Castle. The Aga was of opinion, there could be no danger in the expedient, but doubted much whether Laura could be induced to make use of it; yet after long consultation, and discourse of other means, they thought that not only the best, but the only one they could promise themselves a good design from. But to prevent the trouble Laura might have upon the apprehension of Death, or other sad Accident, they agreed not to tell her of the Bier, but propose carrying her out in a Chair. This being resolved on, Assen, who was to see her that morning, undertook to persuade her to it, and the Aga in the mean time gave order, the dead Soldier should not be buried till the Evening. He recommended to Assen, the care of his Affairs with his Mistress, gave him Clarices' Letter to produce in justification of him; and after a great deal of Civility and Kindness on both sides, they parted, to meet again at Dinner at Assen's, for fear their long Conferences in the Castle might occasion suspicion in the Garrison, being extremely jealous and mistrustful. Laura, who had scarce rested all night for Dreams, which troubled her, was very joyful to see Assen come so early, to divert her from the thoughts of them. Well, dear Assen, says she, shall we be once eased of our Chains? and must we carry this Traitor along with us? Traitor, Madam, answers Assen, he is the most honest and most passionate of Lovers. Ah! says she, I foresaw he would corrupt even your fidelity; I know too well the power he hath to gain affection, and had reason enough to distrust him. Be not so hasty, Madam, replies the Turk, to condemn a man unheard. Why, what says she, can he offer against what I have seen? Did not I find him with the Vice-Queen? Was it not he that helped the Traitor Alphonso to abuse me? No, Madam, I assure you, answers Assen, be pleased to let me tell you, what you know well enough, that he loved you too well, to be capable of an action of that kind; and to clear all your doubts, adds he, showing her Clarices' Letter, Know you that Character? Well, said she, somewhat surprised, 'tis my Chambermaids: Read it, replies Assen, and you shall see who was guilty of the Treason. Laura read it, and had scarce done, when relenting at the Injury done Hippolito, or troubled for the Treachery of a Maid, she had so much confided on; O God of Vengeance, cried she with tears, wilt thou leave unpunished a Wretch so treacherous, and one who hath been the cause of so many disasters? No sure, says Assen, for she is already dead, if not as her Treason deserved, yet for grief of having committed it. With that he related to her, what she knew not of the Story of the Marquis, and found it not difficult business to appease the great wrath she had expressed against him, to procure him her general pardon, and obtain her consent for his going along with them. Assen, like a dexterous Confident, said not a word of what concerned the Vice-Queen; and Laura, who had no desire to be any more angry with her dear Servant, was not very curious to question him on that point: she was content to believe him innocent of one side, and to be furnished with a pretence not to hate him; so hard a matter is it to use ill those we love, how criminal soever. Assen then told her of the resolution taken by the Aga and him, to have her carried out in a Chair, and found her disposed to do whatever they should think fit, but with condition there should be no more danger for them than for her. Assen undertook it, and told her, she had no more to do, but make ready against the first Watch, whilst the Aga and he took Orders for other things. Assen went home, where Beyran-Aga, came shortly after, and gave him an account of all he had done. Assen laboured with much diligence and dexterity to see the Brigandine well stored with Necessaries; you may believe, Beyran failed not, as busy as he was, to desire an account of what most concerned him, the state of his Affair with his Mistress. His dear Confident acquainted him with what success he had discharged the Commission he gave him, which Beyran was so glad of, as it was not in his power to express his Acknowledgement. All was ready, and Assen had given out the necessary Orders, as well for the Brigandine, as for Horses and Men. The Aga and he went together to the Castle, where the Aga made him a Present of all the Jewels he had received at several times from the Dey, and entreated him to accept them not as a satisfaction, but a pledge of the assurance he had given him to be ever his Friend, and serve him on all occasions. Assen, who endeavoured, but in vain, to refuse his liberality, would not accept of it, but on condition the Aga would make use on all occasions of what he had bestowed, as still his own, and believe Assen sensible, he had not sufficiently obliged him to merit so rich a Present. They went from the Castle, to make their Court to the Dey; and the hour being come, Assen first changed Laura's Guards, relieving them by three of his Servants, whom he was to take with him, that none might be left behind to discover the Design, or the Road they should take. The Aga quickly followed him, longing to see Laura; he fell down at her feet in such a Transport of Joy and Love, it moved her to that tenderness, she could not forbear embracing him. As she raised him from the Ground, they were falling into amorous Discourse; but Assen told them, it was not a time to discourse, but to put their Design in execution, unless they had a mind to see it miscarry; and that when they should be once out of danger, they should have leisure enough to say what they pleased. Laura and Beyran, who desired nothing more than to see themselves at liberty, were easily persuaded to follow his Advice. And the Chair being brought by the Aga's Order, who had hidden the Corpse, they wrapped up Laura in a clean Sheet, and without saying a word of the Bier, put her in it, and caused it to be carried out of her Chamber, where having according to the custom of the Place, thrown a Carpet over her, one of Assen's men took the Lantern, and the other two carried the Bier; Beyran leading the Van, and Assen bringing up the Rear. A Corpse is a sacred thing among the Turks; nor would any of the Guard have thought of searching the Bier, though neither Beyran nor Assen had been with it. They went to the Churchyard, where having taken Laura out of her Grave, they marched towards the Carthage-gate, which the Aga commanded to be opened, that they might take Horse, which attended them hard by. Laura and the Aga, whom we will hereafter call by their names, could not yet take any pleasure to see themselves out of the Castle and City, for fear of ill Accidents, but longed to see themselves at Sea; however they were glad they got happily so far, in hopes Fortune would in favour of Love, improve that lucky beginning to a suitable end. But this small Lightning of Joy quickly vanished, being dashed out by the cruelty of their Fate; for being arrived, where they expected to take Horse, they found by Assen's Servants, the Bassa's Sophies had taken them away. In what perplexity then was this unfortunate Company? they were five or six Leagues distant from the Cape of Carthage, where the Brigandine was; they had no time to lose, and knew not what to resolve on, when on the sudden they heard the noise of Horses making towards them. Assen hid Eleanor and Hippolito under an old Wall, and advanced with some of his people towards the Horsemen: They marched apace, and quickly asked, who is there? Assen told them who he was, and by good fortune, found it was Romadan, the Master of the Galleys, coming from Port-farm with a Guard. He told him, the Bassa's Sophies had taken from his people some Horses he had in readiness to go for Cape-Carthage, to see a Brigandine he was sending out to Sea. Romadan, who knew the respect the Bassa had for Assen, was angry for what was done by the Sophies; and to remedy the inconvenience, told Assen, he might take his choice of what Horses he pleased out of his Troop, and not trouble himself for his own, they should be sent him where he pleased to order. Assen, glad of the opportunity, accepted his offer; and Romadan taking him aside, told him, The Bassa had a design to come again to him, and by any means to get Laura out of the Castle, and that he would do well in his return from Cape-Carthage, to take the Camp in his way, and endeavour to divert the Bassa from so dangerous an Enterprise. Assen having promised it, dis-engaged himself from Romadan as soon as he could; but Romadan would oblige him at parting, with two of his Horsemen, to accompany him, and serve him from the Parties that were abroad, and might set upon him unknown. This put Assen into a little perplexity, but he would not refuse the kindness, for fear of giving cause of suspicion: And having taken his leave, he advanced towards his company, and acquainted the two Lovers in few words, what fortune he had met with. All mounted, and Eleanor in Boys clothes, passed for a young Slave of Assen's, the night helping to cover the disguise, they made all the haste possible, Hippolito being still at Eleanor's elbow, the Master of the Galleys Horsemen led the Van, to answer those they met; and Assen, as Commander in chief, sometimes on one side, sometimes on the other, without affecting much to be near Hippolito or Eleanor, by the help of the Horsemen they had free passage; and were several times saved from being taken and carried before the Bassa. At last being come to the Brigandine, they delivered the Horses to be restored to the owners, and having rewarded them well for their pains, Assen sent them back with this Letter to the Bassa.  
Sir, Be not displeased with me, for endeavouring the liberty of a Maid, to whose Family I owe mine: you have often heard me speak of my obligations to my Patron, when I lived among the Christians; I have met with an occasion to satisfy them in the Person of his Daughter, being that same Laura the Dey kept Prisoner. Wonder not my gratitude hath prevailed with me, to expose my life for those who saved mine. The Dey perhaps may have as much reason as you to excuse me, but in actions that honour and reason inspire, I fear no reproach. Laura was the cause of the difference betwixt you, the Peace will be easier made now she is gone. Thus doing my duty, I procure the good of my Country, which every honest man wishes, and will certainly thank me for. Adieu, live content, and prosper in your designs, and be so just as not to condemn▪  
Assen.  
They instantly hoist sail, and the Wether being favourable, they doubled the Cape, passed Port-Farine, and were got a great way to Sea, before the Horsemen could have come to the Bassa, whom we will leave foaming with rage and fury against Assen, and return to the happy company, now beginning to take pleasure in seeing themselves out of danger at least from Land; for as to the Sea, while you are on it, there is no security against it.  
Hippolito sat sighing by his beautiful Eleanor, and she feasted herself with the sweetness of liberty to enjoy in safety the conversation of a Lover she had given over for lost. Assen was busy giving orders in the Brigandine; but being becalmed on the sudden, and no way to be made but by rowing, he sat by them to congratulate their happiness. 'Tis true, says Eleanor, I should esteem myself the most fortunate person on Earth, if after what you have assured me of the Marquis, you could ease me of the scruples, the Turks habit he wears, raises within me. Was it possible, adds she blushing, you should change your Religion? 'Tis the very thing I longed to know of him, Madam, and how he came to Barbary, for he hath not yet told me. No, Madam, answers Hippolito, I am still a Christian, and had I been threatened with Death, or with Torments, I should not have changed my Religion, but 'tis true I have been long thought a Turk. Assen, who could not conceive how it could be so in a Country like his, where in matters of Religion, there are Formalities not to be counterfeited, prayed him to declare what course he had taken, and how it was possible for him to escape Circumcision, being the first of the Ceremonies used in that case. Hippolito to satisfy him, knowing he should at the same time do Eleanor a pleasure, went on with his story.  
I told you formerly of the resolution I took, of searching every Creek of the Mediterranean, for the Vessel this Lady embarked in: I did so for seven or eight months, in a little Frigate with six pieces of Ordinance, wherein I was at last taken by a Vessel of Tripoli of no less than thirty Guns, after six hours' Fight, and the loss of almost all our men: I was carried to Tripoli, where they presented me to the Bassa, who upon the good report they gave of my behaviour in the Fight, used me very civilly, and having in few days expressed no small affection for me, wished I would turn Turk, and sent me for the purpose to a famous Cady to be instructed in their Faith: this Mahometan Doctor was a very honest man, and witty; he was the Son of a Renegado, and had less Faith than his Father in what he taught others: he spoke very freely to me, and I opened myself to him, and prayed him to make the Bassa believe I was turned Turk; he did so, the Bassa believed it on his word, and expressed for me more kindness than ever; but he had a Nephew who was jealous of it, and often quarrelled with me on that score, which might afterwards have produced further inconvenience. The Bassa, who had a tender love for this Nephew, foresaw what might follow, and resolved to part us for some time, till this Nephew were cured of his jealous and tempestuous humour; he sent me with great Presents to the Dey of Tunis, his intimate Friend, recommending me very earnestly and affectionately to him. The Dey within a week after my arrival, made me his Aga: You know Assen, what a sad life I led; but who would have thought, says he, addressing himself to Eleanor, I was so near what I searched for, and loved above all the World, yet knew nothing of it; and that my Fate should make me so happy, when I was just upon losing you.  
The Marquis and Eleanor entered into further discourse of their adventures; and the Masters of the Vessel coming to consult Assen, he left them together to go on with their stories. The wind chopped about, and threatened a Storm, the Vessel being small, they thought it inconvenient to venture further to Sea: They tacked about, making towards Biserti, intending to sail near the Coast of Barbary, till they should come over against Sardinia, that they might cross over (as soon as the weather served) into the Isles of St. Peter, where they hoped to anchor. This was their resolution, and 'twas well for them they followed it, for the Storm was so great, they were forced to lie at Anchor three or four days among the Rocks on the Coast of Barbary. They were so far from Tunis, they had no cause to fear pursuit, being at Anchor in a place where a thousand Vessels might have passed by without discovering them in the storm.  
The storm at length was pretty well over, and the Brigandine pursued her Voyage along the Coast of Barbary; meeting by the way several Creeks, floating Hogsheads, and Planks, and other pieces of broken Ships, which they doubted not were cast away in the last storm. For two days they cruised along that Sea; they were frequently entertained with those lamentable spectacles, and at last heard the voice of a Man, which they fancied must have come from a Rock at least three miles distant from Land; they presently concluded it was one escaped out of the late Shipwrecks. Eleanor was moved to pity at the cry, and Assen at her request, turned the prow of his Brigandine towards the Rock. The Sea was then calm, and when they got within some paces of the Rock, they saw a man almost naked, without Hat, without Stockings, without Shoes, so maimed and disfigured, they knew not whether they should more fear him or pity him. Assen having ordered the Seamen to cease rowing, asked him in Moresque, how he came upon that Rock, and what he would have. I am an unfortunate Christian (answers he in Italian) and not unknown to you, and if you will take the pains to get foot on land here, you will find what perhaps you are in search of, but you must lose no time, otherwise your help may come too late. Assen amazed to hear him speak so, observed something in his Countenance, made him think he had seen him elsewhere. Eleanor was particularly astonished at his voice, and fancied she knew it; but the man was so disfigured, she could not possibly call to mind who he was Assen asked him his name, and where he had seen him to know him: I tell you, answers the man, I have here what you perhaps go in search of much further; the man you see is Alexander the Bassa's Slave, and if he has sent thee for his Wife, thou may'st find her on this Rock half dead with her Sufferings these two days we have been here: he had scarce done speaking, but Eleanor invaded at once with joy and grief cried out, which made the man turn his face, and she knew him to be Alexander. Ha Sir, says she, is it possible it should be you, and not know Laura? As she spoke thus, Assen having commanded the Oars to turn the prow to land, ordered a Plank from the Vessel to the Rock, and passed over it first, Hippolito following with Eleanor by the hand, and all to embrace poor Alexander, who was so transported with joy, he could not say a word: he prayed Assen to get him something from aboard to comfort his dear Sultaness, who had not eat any thing for three days past. They gave order accordingly, and instantly ran towards the place where the Sultaness lay under a Bush, where they found her half dead; a sad sight for Laura, yet mixed with joy to see her; but what an astonishing surprise was this to the Sultaness, who could scarce open her eyes, and knew not whether she were awake or in a Dream, and whether what appeared to her, were Persons or Spirits. You may imagine the haste Eleanor made to help her, being readily seconded with Hippolito's assistance: What are you here Laura, says the Sultaness with a feeble and languishing tone, and am I not mistaken? what good Angel hath sent thee to rescue me from the Jaws of Death? Heavens! my dear Sultaness answers Laura, not able to forbear crying, Heavens! which hath had pity on us, and delivered me also out of the hands of the Bassa. The Sultaness began to recover, but had not strength to speak long. Assen told Alexander she would be better aboard than at land, the Sea being still. The Count, who had not yet had leisure to discourse them, asked where they were bound for, and having understood they sailed for Italy, he could not sufficiently bless Heaven for so happy an accident. The Sultaness was carried aboard, and the weather being fair, they resolved to put out to Sea, and divert their course for Sardinia.  
Laura was so careful of the Sultaness, that she began to gather strength; Assen and Hippolito did their part with the Count, who had no less need of nourishment and rest: This took up one day; on the morrow the weather continuing fair, and the Sultaness finding herself in a condition to discourse, they related to her what passed at Tunis since her departure, and desired Count Alexander to inform them how they came to be wracked, and by what Fortune they got upon the Rock; he answered to this purpose.  
You have heard without doubt, how the Sultaness was carried aboard by the Bassa's order, who thought (as well as I) it was Laura: You may imagine my surprise great, and my joy inexpressible. At our putting to Sea we had a good wind, but scarce past the Cape of Carthage, but we saw the Heaven's cloudy on the sudden, and had the wind in our Teeth, and so strong a Gale, that our Vessel being small, and the storm increasing, we were driven on this Coast and cast Anchor; presently a violent and most terrible Hurricane broke our Cables, set us a-drift, and cast us upon the Rocks. I leave it, to you to guests, what an extremity this was for a Lover, having her he loved above the World ready to be lost before his face, which heightened to the utmost the terrors of danger and death: I stood by the Sultaness, who with grief and fear was already half dead; and reaching out her hand, Dear Alexander, says she, since the hour is come we must die, let us die together. These words so resolute and kind, pierced my very heart, and turned me into a Statue, leaving me without sense or motion. All I could do, was embracing my dear Sultaness for a final Adieu, when the Vessel giving a great crack, made me turn my eyes towards the Window of my Cabin, where I saw a Rock almost touching the Poop; this surprised me not a little, and taking a suden resolution, I placed the Sultaness on my back, got upon the Deck, and in spite of the Seamen, who would have diverted me, I leapt on the Rock without doing myself or the Sultaness harm. A moment after, the Sea which cast the Vessel on the Rock, carried it off again, leaving me and the Sultaness there helpless of help, unless our Seamen would pity us, but they could not master the winds, and the night was far gone, so that no good was to be expected from them till the morrow, if the storm would over. A sad night it was, the poor Sultaness endeavoured to comfort me with hopes the Mariners would not forsake us; but what a lamentable spectacle had I at break of day, to see some League's distance half a Ship a float, which by the number of People I saw returning from one end to another to get nearer land, was sunk by the greatness of the waves, and all the men drowned. What afflicted me most, was the sight of the Sultaness, though she by I know not what presage, would not despair of good Fortune, but would tell me still, Heaven had not saved us from the Sea, to let us perish on that Rock; but would send to our aid one of the many Vessels that passed by that way. It was a piece of good Fortune I did not expect, yet I looked constantly about to discover some sail, when at last having almost lost hope, having for two days seen nothing on the Sea, I kened on the sudden something floating on the water, but being at distance, and discovering no sail, I knew not whether to think it a Wrack, or some small Vessel with Oars; yet seeing you draw towards the Coast, and the nearness of the objects magnifying them every moment, I knew it to be a Brigandine that brought the Sultaness the News, who was not much pleased with it, fearing the Vessel came from Tunis, and being more willing to die on the Rock, than return thither, I hollowed, and cried, and had the good luck to be heard by you; and if I did not presently express that joy which might have been expected upon knowing you, you will pardon it as an effect of the miserable condition I was reduced to, and will easily believe it could not but be great.  
Count Alexander having ended his discourse, every one spoke his thoughts of all these adventures, mingling sighs with their joy, which increased at the news of one of Assen's Servants, that he discerned land, and that it could be no other but Sardinia: He was in the right, but they could not anchor till the morrow; and the weather continuing good, within eight days they arrived at Genes, to the infinite satisfaction of this happy company, and all Eleanor's Friends. Her Father was dead, and those who were entrusted with the tuition and disposal of her (if heard of) were easily induced to consent she should be married to Marquis Hippolito, who found means to make his Peace with the Viceroy of Naples. The Sultaness turned Christian, and Count Alexander married her: Assen followed the example of the Sultaness, and Count Alexander as well as Marquis Hippolito served him with their Credit and Estates, to make his Fortune, and live happily the rest of his days.