THE AMOURS OF THE COUNT DE DUNOIS MADE ENGLISH.  
— In Amore tuentur  
Diliciae humani generis.  
London, Printed for William Cademan, at the Pope's Head in the New-Exchange in the Strand, 1675.   

TO THE READER.  
FOR an Author to Court the Reader by an Epistle into a good opinion of his book is as ancient as customary, and therefore like a man that is called to a confession of his faith, I here give you an account of the Exposing this small Treatise to the public. Meeting it by accident, and in the reading finding it ingenious, pleasant, and new; I took upon me the Translating of it how well I have acquitted myself I leave to the judicious Reader, and now as you shall find it, it is much at your service; if it were better done, I should be more satisfied, and then should not in the least question, but it would be more gratefully received by you: but however it has pleased me, and I hope will not meet with your disrellish; if it does, as I cannot help it, so neither will I be such a Fool as to concern myself at it.  
Those who know the Author are too well assured of his ingenuity to doubt any thing of the address of this Novel, he is endowed with so great a soul that it is impossible for him to write in a mean low stile, and his fancy in all be does has the highest flights and turns in them imaginable; therefore if you can content yourselves with that dress I have clothed his thoughts in, I am confident you will not but very well approve of the design he has taken in this Amour. But still I have my ends in it, my own pleasure; and the Stationer if he can put it off, his own profit; and you when you have paid your money for it, may either give it room in your Studies, or else commit it to the flames, as it shall like you best, Farewell.   

Books Printed for William Cademan, at the Popes-Head in the New-Exchange in the Strand.  

Clerks' Examples; in two Vol. Fol. Sandies' Travels, Fol.  
The Protestants Religion is a sure foundation and written by Charles Earl of Derby Lord of Man and the Iles. Quar.  
Fair warning in two Visitation Sermons written by Seth Bushel, D. D.  
The great efficacy of the Clergy a Visitation Sermon by T. Duncomb. D. D.  
Liquor Alchabest or a discourse of the immortal Dissolvent of Paracelsus and Helmont, etc. Octa.  
Sinners Tears, Twelv.  
Devout Communicant, Twelv.  
Sherley's Philosophical Essay, Octa.  
Guliel. Farrarii de bello Batavico, Octa.  
Court Songs, Octa.  
Collections of Poems, Octa.  
Westminster Quibbles, Octa.  
Hogan Moganides, or the Dutch Hudebrass. Octa.   

PLAYS.  
RIvals: A Comedy.  
Catiline: A Tragedy.  
Island Princess.  
Flora's Vagaries.  
Town Shifts.  
Citizen Turned Gentleman.  
Morning Ramble.  
Fatal Jealousy.  
Macbeth.  
Cambyses.  
Empress of Morocco.  
Herod and Mariam.  
Careless Lovers.  
English Princess.  
Reformation.  
Spanish Rogue.  
Marcelia T. C.  
The Mall or the Modesh Lover.  
Notes on Morocco.  
Love and Revenge.  
Rehearsal.  
Mock Tempest.  
Dumb Lady.  
Gentleman Dancing Master.  
Alcibiades.  
Dutch Loves.   

Plays in the Press.  
The Conquest of China by the Tartars.  
Pyso's Conspiracy.    

THE AMOURS OF THE Count de DUNOIS.  
AFter the Conquest of Italy, Charles the Eighth returning into his Kingdom, met with the Queen at Amboise, and the Duke and Duchess of Alenson, with their Daughter Madamois●lle d' Alenson, whose Wit and Beauty were extremely improved since the King his departure: The Queen gave a thousand praises to the Conquerors, and especially to the Count de Dunois, to whom France owes its safety, in distinguishing him as much from the others, as he surpassed them in all the Qualities that might procure him the esteem of the whole world in general, and particularly of that Great Queen. Though the Prince received the Eulogies she gave him with a very great Modesty, yet they did pleasantly flatter his Glory, and heighten in his Person that Noble and generous Mien, which accompanied all his Actions; but it was not only that Glory which made him sensible, he began to perceive in his Breast certain sentiments of inquietude, which in a short time after he knew to be the beginnings of a strong and mighty Passion: and though he had not always been under an indifferency, yet he was well assured that the inclinations he had had till then, were but the slight amusements of an idle and an unactive Youth. Madam the Coming, who was one of the fairest Ladies about the Court, would fain have appeared to him unsupportable with all her Charms, but notwithstanding the designs she had to please him, it was only Madem iselle d' Alenson that seemed to him worthy of all his Addresses and Submissions.  
The Application with which he gave them her, was quickly discovered by the Marshal de Gié, who was the first person that took notice of it, and this knowledge gave him the most villainous affliction in the world: He did whatsoever he could to confirm himself in this Opinion, although he had no desires to have the Confirmation made out; and 'tis certain, he did not know that he was become a Lover of Madamoiselle d' Alenson, but by the jealousy which he had of the Count de Dunois: This Marshal was well advanced in years, and the long practice of War had made him very politic and subtle in his actions, much contrary to the present Mode of Gallantry; he was become a severe Moralist, who had always kept himself far enough from any thing of that nature: But at last his fatal hour was come, he examined into the cause of his new disquiets; he was assured of them, and did oppose them, but could not get the Mastery; and though he held this for an Infallible Maxim, that Love was the Rock of Virtue, yet he could not hinder his splitting upon it. A doubtfulness in Love is an unspeakable torment, he hoped that he might be delivered from it, in discovering whither the Count de Dunois was really in Love with Madamoiselle d' Alenson: To this end he goes one Morning to his Bedside, and finding no body with him, he presently fell into discourse about the Ladies: the Marshal, who would fain have instructed himself, and spoke his real thoughts, extolled the Beauty of Madamoiselle d' Alenson to the highest pitch imaginable, and did not at the same time forget to observe the countenance of Dunois, he drew from it the assured conjectures of the passion of that Prince, which was likewise confirmed by his discourse, when the Marshal to make him confess it, told him, what were his thoughts of him: It is certain, says the Count, that the Beauty of this Princess has made so deep an impression upon my heart, that it never yet had the like; I knew presently I had never been in Love before, and I believe I shall never more count the days of my life, but by that in which my Love began: But, said the Marshal to him, are you assured that she will answer your kindness, and do you fear nothing from her tender age, that is unable to make her know your Merit, and the respect you bear her? I fear all, replied the Count, but I hope all likewise, and I am sure of this, that Fear, and Hope, are the infallible consequences of Love: You have, replied the Marshal, an infinite Merit, which procures you the esteem of all that come near you: But, Sir, take my word for it, Love is sometimes an effect of Capriciousness, rather than Reason; and though you deserve the entire affections of the fair Princess you love, yet Fate it may be, has resolved it otherwise: For my part, I count it, continued the Marshal, more dangerous to stand the adventure of Love than War; and the difficulty which yet could never stop me in the most perilous occasions, does here appear to me a most dreadful thing: You know also, Mounsieur le Marshal, replied the Count, that the greater the danger is, the more glorious is the Conquest, an easy Victory procures no satisfaction; but howsoever, I am resolved to abandon myself wholly to my Love: As Victory, said the Marshal, is the appanage of Heroes, I am persuaded, Sir, you will get the Conquest of her you aspire to, provided that the Interests of State do not oppose those of your Love.  
I cannot tell whether the Marshal should not have said more than he would have done, if the Marquis de la Trimoville had not come in, and ended the Conversation, to begin one more general: the Marshal took his leave with his head full of a thousand thoughts, which afforded him but worse troubles, his passion pressed him to a Conduct which his Virtue did condemn; but at length the weaker was forced to quit the Field, and made him resolve upon seeking out a Confident who was in the same Interests and Concerns with him, to thwart and oppose the Love of the Count de Dunois; for this purpose he made choice of Madam the Coming, whom he knew to be of a piercing and subtle Wit, and very daring in her Enterprises; and withal, he was not ignorant of the inclinations she had for the Count After he had made her an ingenuous Confession of his Love for Madamoiselle d' Alenson, he craftily got out of her, that she had a Passion for the Count de Dunois: they resolved that Madam de Coming, who had her lodgings in the Castle, should be more constantly near Mademoiselle d' Alenson, and that she should endeavour to insinuate herself into the affections of the Princess, by all the complaisances possible to procure her her Friendship. It so happened, in the mean time, that the others were thinking of the divertisements that might be took in that place, it was a fair season, and the Spring began to reinvest the Trees with Leaves, as it did the Meadows with ●lowers: And as the World has none so pleasant and charming, as those that border the River de Loire, the Queen made account to spend one whole day in the Isle S. Jean, but there wanting a place convenient to receive her, it put their Inventions upon the Tenter how to contrive a way to keep off the scorching heat of the Sun; but the Count de Dunois took upon him the charge of that day, and they prepared themselves for this Innocent pleasure, as if it had been for a Magnificent Entertainment, there chanced to be a good deal of Rain, which retarded them for some days; during which, the Marshal being gone to Madam d' Alenson's, found her a little melancholy, which she was not used to be; she had dismissed Maisiere, one of the pleasant Fellows that follow the Court, whose open folly conceals a politic subtlety, which never fails to lead them to their proposed ends, and who was sometimes used to divert the Princess; this made the Marshal conjecture that her mind was disturbed, especially seeing her two or three times in a posture that showed as if she was in a thousand perplexities which way to take, and what to do; he quickly reasoned like one that is Jealous on this change, and thought, that the Count de Dunois had been entertaining Mademoiselle d' Alenson with his Passion; and without ever thinking on the consequences of that false conjecture, he could not refrain ask her the cause of her melancholy: Truly, said she to him, I cannot tell you presently, though I must confess I am not so cheerful as ordinarily I was wont to be, yet I cannot give you a reason for it: So great a change, Madam, interrupted the Marshal, seldom happens without a cause; you live not in an Age where the General Affairs can much afflict you, and you are not enough instructed in those of your House to have them give you any concern, which makes me conclude, that your melancholiness arises from some secret Source, which if it be not too great a presumption in me to be desirous to search into, I should be bold, perhaps, to assure myself that I should not have too remote a guess at it: You are very pleasant, Mounsieur le Marshal, to persuade me that I am under some distemper, when you hear me make no complaints; I tell you again what I have already told you, which is, that I have no trouble upon me, and that if you found me in a melancholy humour, it is because you came just in a time that I was seriously musing; and indeed, continued she, I scarce know any one body that has not theirs, let them be never so brisk. Ah! Mademoiselle, replied the Marshal, one may easily get out of it, when it is only taking up for one's pleasure; but you have defended this little time too well, to make me think that it is not infinitely agreeable and delightful to you. You have reason, pursued the Marshal, you have reason, Mademoiselle, that Declaration which Mounsieur le Count de Dunois has made you of his Love, well deserves you should think upon it; I beg your pardon, Madamoiselle, if I concern myself with a secret where without doubt you would not call me to your Counsel: I know not, replied modestly Madamoiselle d' Alenson, whether Mounsieur le Count de Dunois has any kindness for me, but this I do know very well, that he has not been so hardy and venturous as to acquaint me with it: He knows that persons of his and my Quality are not Masters of their Choice, and though what you say should be true, it ought not to be from him that I should learn it: At least it should be from your prudence not to do it, replied the Marshal; for as you do say very well, Madamoiselle, that persons of your Birth are almost always the Victims of the Public Good, and the Maxims of State often prevail over the inclinations of the heart, affairs are now in such a posture, as the King has need of making himself Allies, to oppose the Enemies that the Report of his Glory has raised up against him. For God's sake, Mounsieur le Marshal, said Madamoiselle d' Alenson, do not you interrupt this serious moment which you suppose gives me so much delight, and if it can be, do not you make of it an insufferable one; let us rather discourse of the divertisement for which we are preparing. The Princess had no sooner ended these words, but the Count de Dunois entered her Chamber; the Marshal departed quickly after, but meeting with Madam the Coming, he sent her with all speed unto Madamoiselle d' Alensons, to afford no time to this Lover of entertaining his fair Princess in private. As she saw him coming in, she blushed, not being able, without some confusion, to think on what the Marshal had just before told her; yet she concealed it, and that she might not expose herself to a conversation that might have increased it, she fell to talk of general things, doing whatever she could to prevent falling into particulars: The Count de Dunois, on the contrary, was still letting down his voice, and with earnestness sought after that which Mademoiselle d' Alenson shunned with all the precaution she could; but for all that he was just ready to explain himself, when Madam the Coming came in, which much to his unhappiness obliged him to desist for that time.  
This was the first mischievous hour that she began to prove fatal to the Count, who notwithstanding took it then for a thing that fell out by accident. After they had discoursed some time about indifferent matters, there came so much company to Madamoiselle d' Alenson's, that made him despair to recover the opportunity that Madam de Coming had made him lose: He went to the Queen, with whom he found but few persons; she told him, she had perceived he was fallen in Love with the Princess, and she had the goodness to assure him, that she approved his Love, and would be favourable in it. After he had confirmed her in it, he humbly begged she would continue her protection to him, and be mighty solicitous with the King that he would give him his leave to Marry with the Princess: The Queen promised she would when she saw convenient time, but she told him that she thought it best to prepossess the Duke and Duchess d' Alenson's mind. That Evening it was resolved on, that the Morrow after they would go to the Isle S. Jean: The next day the Queen being dressed, all the Ladies of the Court came to wait upon her, and got up into their Coaches to go to the River side, where they found divers small Boats some painted, and others guilded, that attended them to take up the Queen, and her Retinue.  
The dav proved extraordinary fair, and the weather calm, and the Ladies never appeared so beautiful as then, when they were in their Dishabilees: Madamoiselle d' Alenson, above all others, had such Charms in that Dress, that it was impossible for any to defend themselves: if they made a violent impression upon the heart of the Count de Dunois, they were fatal to the reason of the Marshal, who would be one at this Solemnity, not so much for his own pleasure, neither to contribute to that of the Companies, but to endure there all the torments of a racking Jealousy, and to give the Princess confusion, if it were possible. The Queen Landed at the Bank of this Festival Meadow, but instead of meeting with Willows and Osiers, she was presented with an exact and regular border of Oranges, Pomegranat-trees, and Myrtles; and for the Field-flowers, she saw all those that the Spring could produce in the most curious and embellished Gardens: The Queen was very pleasantly surprised at this sight, and much more, when she entered into the Green Arbours which were prepared for her Reception; for all within were they beautified and set out with an infinite number of Garlands made of Rushes and Violets, which caused an agreeable and surprising effect: The Repast was mighty splendid, the Music of Hoe-boys, and other Instruments, was there complete, and served as an Inter-act to a Pastoral that was rarely well represented. The whole Court admired that in four days time all these things could be so exactly and curiously ordered, for they did seem to be perfectly Natural. In the Evening the Queen was desirous to taste the sweetness of the Air, and walked a pretty while leaning upon Madam the Coming, whom she had a mind to discourse with privately.  
It happened that the greatest part of the Courtiers and Ladies were divided into several Companies, some spending their time in gathering Flowers, whilst other were observing the motion of the waters, and all of them served to make an easy way for the Count de Dunois to entertain Madamoiselle d' Alenson. The Marshal would fain have opposed it, but the Marquis de la Trimoville, who well knew the pleasure that he should do the Count to divert this troublesome Companion, put in, and presently fell upon the Subject of War, and Stratagems, whilst Madameiselle d' Alenson avoided as much as she could the private conversation with the Count; but it was high time for her to learn from his mouth a thing not unprofitable to her satisfaction, and which only her modesty made her to shun: You see, says he, Mademoiselle, how all the world conspires to give me an occasion of acquainting you with an important secret, whereof the Queen has permitted me to make you confident, she herself has ordered me to tell it to none but you alone. As I am always near the Queen, replied Madamoiselle d' Alenson, who does me the Honour often to speak with me, I suppose if there were any thing particular which she would have me know, I suppose, I say, she would have given this Commission to no body: Notwithstanding she has chosen me for this purpose, replied the Count de Dunois: and to lose no time in acquitting myself of it, know Mademoiselle, that the Queen having been acquainted with the Passion I have for you, and the respect which has kept me from telling you of it, has commanded me not to make it any longer a secret to you. The very Name of the Queen, answered Madamoiselle d' Alenson, imposes on me so much respect, as that it makes me to forbear testifying to you a little more severely the confusion that this Declaration gives me; not to derogate from the respect I bear her, and not to do any thing also contrary to my Duty, be assured that I will keep myself to that which is permitted me; and let me tell you, that it is forbidden persons of your Quality and mine, to make their own Destinies: But Mademoiselle, said the Count, what the Queen does Authorise, shall it not be to you an indispensable Law? What she ordains me, replied the Princess, shall; but pray let me wait till she does prescribe Laws to me, for I would by no means prevent her in them. The Count was going to discover to her the melting passion of his Soul, when word was brought the Queen, that the King was coming to Land at the Isle. This news, without all peradventure, ended a conversation that was very sweet and pleasing to the Count, but he had the comfort to perceive neither severity nor anger in the eyes of this Princess: But yet the Marquis de la Trimoville, all this while, was not a little pestered with the Marshal de Gié, who was so terribly afflicted in his mind, that he thought sometime he would run mad; wheresoever the Marquis led him, he would be turning still that way which would have carried him to the Count; he several times spoke that Prince's name for another's, he lifted up his eyes to heaven, struck himself with his hands, and chattered certain words between his teeth, but they were so wretchedly uttered, that it was impossible for any to understand them; and sometimes he fell into such a profound silence, that Mounsieur de la Trimoville could not for his Soul get him out of, though he put to him a thousand Interrogatories. The King being come, all the people flocked about the Queen; the King who that day had some affairs to dispatch, could not come to join with them before the Evening, yet he did not fail sharing with them in pleasures very agreeable and delightful: For as soon as the day was shut in, there was seen upon the River a thousand lights very artificially invented, and brought along at the sound of a hundred Trumpets. After this Divertisement, succeeded another Treat more magnificent than the former; which being ended, they went into a green Arbour shining with a prodigious number of Lamps, all burning in Glasses of Crystal, and here it was that the Ball began; Madamoiselle d' Alenson danced there with so smooth and delicate a Grace, that she was the general admiration of the company; the Count de Dunois on his part joining, to the rare mien that was so natural to him, the ambition he had to please his fair one, very advantageously succeeded in his design; and did even more than he would have done, for Madam de Coming could not behold him so transcending, without having her heart sensible again of those former flames wherewith she had burnt for him, but she could not see them neglected, without forming in her head a design to revenge herself. She declined dancing that Evening, and taking her time, now all the company was busied in that Divertisement, which was not any longer to the benefit of the Marshal, she came to him, and told him, that the Queen had had a long discourse with her; that she was assured she bore the Count de Dunois a great deal of esteem and friendship: but withal, at the same time, forgot not to tell him, that she had observed she had not the same Sentiments for him: He was not at all surprised at it, for he did remember the secret Factions he raised to oppose the Queen's Marriage, and consequently the reasons she had not to love him. After a great many discourses on the subject of their weighty affair, which was Jealousy, they were of opinion that the Marshal should take the first opportunity that was presented to forestall the King about it: But yet Maisiere, who made it his business to instruct himself with the Court-adventures, preferred to the pleasure of seeing them dance, that of observing Madam the Coming, and the Marshal, who were slipped out of the Arbour into another: Maisiere did his utmost to overhear what they said, but they spoke so low, that he could pick out nothing, only at the latter end of their discourse, the mutual assurance they gave of their fidelity each to other: Maisiere needed nothing more to make him believe that the Marshal and Madam the Coming were deeply engaged in Love; he told it to some one privately, who quickly conveyed it to another, till in a short time it came to be known to the whole Court. Madamoiselle d' Alenson was not one of the last who was acquainted with it, for Maisiere took a world of care to give her the knowledge of any thing he thought might divert her: This gave her occasion innocently to rally at Madam the Coming upon the subject of her Love, which she took little care to dissuade the Princess from, being very glad to conceal, under this pretext, the private Commerce they had established between them. In this posture matters were then, when the King learned that the neopolitans were reduced to the Obedience of the King of Arragon: Only the Marshal de Gié was with the King when he received this news; he presently resolved to go into Italy to punish the Rebels: The Marshal strengthened him in his design, and discovered to him at the same time, that it was requisite to secure the Milanois to himself, in making an Alliance with them, which would draw them off from the League which they had entered into with the Emperor Maximilian, Ferdinand King of Spain, and the Princes of Italy. The Marshal added, that the only means he knew of to break this Confederacy, was to marry Madamoiselle d' Alenson to the young Duke of Milan, or at least agree upon things, till such time as the young Duke should be of age fit to marry. The King did much approve of the Mareschals advice, and ordered him to go presently and find out the Duke d' Alenson. The Marshal counselled the King to keep this business secret, and acquainted him with the love of the Count de Dunois for Madamoiselle d' Alenson: He said, perhaps this Prince might by some indirect course break off the Alliance, craftily insinuating into the King's Breast a kind of suspicion for the Count When he had left the King in the disposition he so much desired, he went and found out Mounsieur le Duke d' Alenson, and Madam his Wife, to whom he proposed the marriage of their Daughter with the Duke of Milan; and as they objected to him the Duke's extreme tender age, the Marshal gave them the same Expedient he had given the King, to Sign the Articles, and not conclude the Marriage till some years after. This Treaty appearing advantageous to the Duke and Duchess, they consented that the Marshal should take this business upon him; but he observed to them the same precantion as he had to the King, telling them, that secrecy is the Soul of weighty affairs. After this was done, he sent presently to Sforza about it, Uncle and Tutor of the Duke of Milan. Whilst he was thus employed, the Queen went to see Madam d' Alenson, to know her thoughts, and the Dukes her Husband, about the marriage of Mounsieur le Count de Dunois, and the Princess their Daughter: But the Queen was much surprised to perceive the Duchess did not answer her as she expected, and that she did not gladly receive such a Proposition; judging then by the manner of the Duchess her speaking to her, that there must be some particular reason for her shifting off this Proposition: The Queen pressed her, and making use of those engaging words wherewith she commonly subdued hearts, she began to stagger the discretion of the Duchess, and at last forced out of her the secret of the Marshal his Negotiation: The aversion the Queen had for him, and the friendship she bore the Count de Dunois, obliged her to ruin the designs of the Marshal, by all the ways she could imagine, that were possible to prove fatal to him. She made the Duchess d' Alenson to consider, that this Marriage would for ever deprive her of the comfort of seeing a Daughter that was so beloved by her; that neither her age, nor the Dukes her Husband, would permit her often to take a Journey to Milan; and on the other hand, the Alliance of Mounsieur le Count de Dunois, would let her quietly enjoy a good that was so dear to her: The Queen added yet farther, that the inequality of Madamoiselle d' Alenson's Age with the Duke of Milan's, would bring such a constraint upon their minds, that it would be impossible for her ever to live happy. The Queen seeing these reasons began to work upon the tenderness of the Duchess, pressed her with so many insinuations, that if the good Lady did not yield up herself quite at that instant, she found at least she was strongly inclined to fall into the sentiments the Queen was so vehemently inspiring her withal. After she had farther urged her upon this subject, she left her, to give her some time to make reflection upon all the Queen had been saying to her. The Count de Dunois not knowing either his unhappiness, or the goodness of the Queen in endeavouring to remove it, was gone with Mounsieur de la Trimoville to Madamoiselle d' Alenson's, with whom they found Madam the Coming: The Marquis pretending to speak to her of the Report that was spread about the Court, that the Marshal was fallen in love with her, took her to a Window to entertain her about it: She denied it very scurvily, for she had no mind to remove his doubt, and still more scurvily, by the jealousy she had in seeing the Count speak low to the Princess, whom he had so strongly persuaded that day, that she did not forbid him to love her, nor to hope being beloved again: She easily thought that the Queen did approve his love, and was not troubled, that it was not in her power to oppose that Authority with the scruple she made of loving a Prince, who was not made choice of by those persons to whom she owed submission. This conversation had all the ravishing sweetness that possibly could make it agreeable to those between whom it was held: Madam the Coming, who took notice of their satisfaction by it, accounted it as Hell and Damnation to her; the coming in of Maisiere made this jealous Lover hope the Princess would speak to him as she was wont, but seeing she was deceived, she would fain have obliged him to interrupt the conversation. Maisiere knowing well that the familiarity would be at that time very unseasonable, answered Madam the Coming after his usual frank way: And would you have been glad, Madam, that I had come and troubled you in the green Arbour, when you were privately discoursing with Mounsieur le Mareschal de Gié, and the rest were dancing in the Isle S. Jean; would not you have bid me go and see when the Ball would have ended? I should have been sure, Madam; to have received such a Commission from you: Now I have no ambition to be employed upon the like Errand by the Princess, let us speak, if it please you, of what all the World speaks, that is, of the King his Voyage for Italy, of the tears that will be shed at his departure, and of the joy that we shall receive to see him return with Laurels on his Brow. But observing that Madam de Coming answered not a word, I believe, went he on, that your mind is already taken up with the regret of thinking that your Friends are about to leave you. Let me, Madam, counsel you to be merry whilst you do enjoy the sight of them, till they be troubled by their absence. Madamoiselle d' Alenson not being willing, out of regard to civility, to make the conversation last any longer, the Count took his leave of her, and went to the Queen, of whom he learned the condition that his affairs were in. At the first, his Resentments were carried out against the Marshal; but the Queen discovered to him, that his proceed being strengthened by the appearance of the Public Good, it would be to ruin himself in the King's favour, to show any violence against him, and then she should not be in a capacity to do him further service: She gave him then strict charge to smother his anger, and to leave to her the care of managing his Interests with prudence. When he came from the Queen, the Count went to his Apartment with the Marquis de la Trimoville, to whom he told all that she had acquainted him with. They discoursed together what should be the motives to make the Marshal act in so strange a manner; and reflecting on what was past, they judged it might proceed from his being in Love, the Marquis relating to him what he had observed at the Isle S. Jean: but on the other hand, what Maisier had heard, made them that they could scarce believe it. In the Evening, the Queen discoursed with Madamoiselle d' Alenson in private, and spoke to her so extremely advantageous of her Illustrious Gallant, that the Princess fully resolved within herself to love him, especially being encouraged by the Queen, who shown her so many disadvantages in her marrying of the Duke of Milan, that Madamoiselle d' Alenson put away all the scruples she had made to a band on her heart to this Innocent affection. Many days passed away, in which Mounsieur le Count de Dunois enjoyed divers conversations in liberty with his Princess, both at the Queen's Lodgings, and at the Walks. Madam de Coming having been under such an indisposition, that she could not leave her Chamber; but these pleasant Entertainments, which overwhelmed them with Joy and Delight, proved insupportable to the Marshal; so that not being able any longer to suffer them, he went to the Duke d' Alenson's, and told him, that it was necessary he should advert see the Princess his Daughter, that she show d carry herself with more indifference towards the Count de Dunois, without giving of him any other particular reason than that of her humour. As 'tis Natural for Fathers and Mothers to cut short the liberty of their Children, the Duke was much pleased that he had an occasion to give her his Prohibitions and Commands; a privilege that he often put in practice. He made Madamoiselle d' Alenson be called before her Mother, and made a long Harangue on the Obedience that a Daughter Nobly born owes to the persons that gave them their being. After which, he did strictly forbid her having any particular interview with the Count de Dunois, and ordered her to be content with living civilly with him.  
The Princess was so surprised at this cruel Command, that if the Duke had taken notice of the alterations in her face, he might without any conjuring have guessed at the cause; but by good hap he left her to discourse with the Duchess her Mother: She withdrew into her apartment, where Madam the Coming entered almost as soon as she. The Princess having known of the Queen the Mareschals design for her marriage with the Duke of Milan, did make her complaints to her, whom she supposed was his Mistress, who delivered her as soon from that Opinion; and after many discourses to disabuse her of it, she asked the Princess if she had ne'er suspected the Marshal to be in love with her: The Princess having told her, that she had never given herself the trouble to think of it. Madam the Coming took care to make her observe the application with which the old Marshal did regard her; how neat and modish he was when he visited her, and a thousand other observations; which made Madamoiselle d' Alenson remember, that what Madam the Coming had told her, was not improbable: but there came then many other thoughts into her head. Her being forbid to see the Count de Dunois, caused so great an affliction to her, that she could not keep it to herself. Madam the Coming was yet unsuspected by her, and this subtle person had always appeared so strongly inclined to the Princess' Interests, that she entrusted her with the secret of her heart; the love she had for the Count de Dunois, and the fear she was in lest her marriage with the Duke of Milan should be concluded; and the villainous Order that she had received, not any more to speak to the Count: But she discovered this grief with such melting expressions, that Madam de Coming made as if she would have died with madness.  
The Princess having observed she was touched with it, gladly applied herself to this feigned compassion, and thanked her so obligingly for it, that any other but this Perfidious Wretch would have submitted to so much goodness and sweetness of Nature. If she did it not in good earnest, at least she could pretend it: she railed and stormed against the Marshal; she quarrelled with all the world, and poured out so many tears, that Madamoiselle d' Alenson thought she could do no better than make a Confident of Madam the Coming, who offered to facilitate a Commerce of Letters between the Princess, and the Count The Princess being sensible that it was very requisite the Count should be quickly advertised of the Prohibition the Duke had made her, so that he should not be surprised at the strangeness of her carriage towards him, and that he should bethink how he ought to manage himself on his part, took the occasion that Madam de Coming offered her, and writ these few words.  
Madamoiselle d' Alenson 's Letter to the Count de Dunois.  
'TIs forbidden me to speak with you, and I must obey: I know not whether you have any cause to complain; but I avow to you I have. My affliction would be extremely great, if yours was infinite: Let me find then my Consolation in the necessity that you will have of being comforted.  
Madam the Coming received this Letter from the hands of the Princess unsealed; but before she would give it to the Count, she shown it to the Marshal, who was only concerned at it for the Interests of his Jealousy, and not at all for the displeasure he did to that person in the world, for whom he had the greatest passion. He was several times about to run away from her with the Letter, and to carry it to the Duke d' Alenson's; but the itching desire he had to see the Answer, made him give it again to this Faithless Confident.  
By accident she met the Count, whom she spoke to, and told him she had something particular to say to him; and that she could not trust him with the secret, but in a place where they could be neither seen, nor heard by any. They agreed she should expect him at her Apartment, where she no sooner saw him coming in, but she was before hand with him: You see Sir, said she to him, how deeply one is concerned in your Interests; and by this Letter I present you, you may judge what I do for you, and against myself: Whatever happiness should come to me from it, replied the Count to her, in taking it, I should be extremely sorry it should give you the least trouble. Read, says she to him, I account the peril nothing that I expose myself to. The Count was so surprised in reading what the Princess writ to him, that for some time it made him lose the use of his speech. Ah! Madam, said he at last to her, let the trouble I give you cost me dear, and what is the misery I must undergo for you? I am mightily concerned, replied Madam the Coming to him, to increase your affliction; but I have orders from the Princess for to acquaint you with the circumstances of her ill fortune, and yours.  
She than up and told him what had passed between the Duke and his Daughter; and at the same time assured him, that since the privilege of Conversation was forbidden him, she would facilitate that of writing for him. How sensible soever the Count was of this unhappiness, he was notwithstanding very much pleased at Madam de Cominge's carriage towards him; and not discerning the Artifice, he made her his acknowledgements in the most tender and obliging terms that could be. When he had done so, he begged of her by all the Friendship she ever had for him, and by the esteem he had conserved for her, to oblige Madamoiselle d' Alenson to grant him one private interview, where he might discover to her all his affliction, and give her the assurances of his faithfulness. She promised him to use her utmost persuasions to bring the Princess to a compliance. The Count likewise desired it by a small Note he gave to Madam the Coming: It had the same destiny as the former; for it was seen by the Marshal, before it was ever given to the Princess: And this Jealous Lover read in it these words with the most violent transports, that it was possible for that Passion to produce.  
The Count de Dunois his Letter to Madamoiselle d' Alenson  
'tIs not a Letter that is capable of acquainting you with the afflictions which Yours has cost me: Oh! let me die, or see you; that so I may make you understand what it is impossible I can ever express to you any other ways.  
The Marshal would fain have had Madam the Coming burnt the Letter, or done any thing else with it, and never mention the Interview that the Count desired of Madamoiselle d' Alenson: but the Treacherous Confident discovering to him the advantage that he might derive from it, made him at last consent that she should give her the Letter, and insist upon the secret Audience that the Count desired of the Princess, resolving together to take their measures according to the use they observed her to make of it; and presently after Madam the Coming went to give to her an account of her Commission: But when she was persuading her to consent to the Interview that the Count de Dunois begged of her with so much earnestness and solicitation, the Princess could not get leave of herself to resolve upon it. She laid down so many substantial reasons to Madam the Coming, that she thought she would never farther trouble her about it. But at last Love was too violent for all her reflections: the time and place were agreed on to be the next day, at the dusk of the Evening, in the Park, with Madam the Coming, and her women only. The Marshal was the first who was advertised of it, and prepared himself to represent there the troublesome person, and her Persecutors. The Count also waited the good minute with a great deal of impatience: but Madam the Coming put the turn upon him, in telling him, that Madamoiselle d' Alenson had not found any place more convenient, and less suspected, than her Apartment, which was not very remote from that of the Princess. But whilst that Madamoiselle d' Alenson was poring upon the ill consequences that this Interview might bring along with it, the King was speaking to the Count de Dunois, and communicating to him his design for Italy, telling him of the Employs he ought to have in his Army: and afterwards he closely fell upon the particulars of the Negotiation of Milan; I am obliged, says the King to him, to facilitate the passage of my Troops, to concern the Duke of Milan in my Interests, and to draw them off from fiding with my Enemies, by an Alliance, whereof of necessity, Madamoiselle d' Alenson must tie the Knot. I know very well, continued the King, your Love will not permit you to be concerned in this policy; but yet I am more persuaded, that your affection for me will force you to consent to it: Your Majesty, replied the Count, is sufficient to exact from me my Obedience; but if it may please you to examine the Conduct of Sforza with the Milanois, perhaps it would remove the Opinion you now have, that this Marriage might take effect: Indeed, pursued he, 'tis not probable that a man who aspires at Tyranny, will marry a Prince whom he has a design to ruin: and it is not to be imagined, that a prudent man will bring again upon himself a puissance so terrible as yours, which Sforza infallibly will procure to himself, if after this Alliance, he got the State of the Duke of Milan into his own hands. Those who have the charge of this Negotiation, said the King, will manage my Interests with so much prudence, that we shall be secure from that Event, and I expect within these few days the Conclusion of this Treaty. As he made an end of these words, the King went presently to the Queen, without giving the Count time to reply upon him. One may easily imagine that he was sensibly touched at this discourse, but his hope for some time suspended the affliction that he conceived at it. The hour of the Rendezvous drawing near, Madam the Coming writ a Letter to Madamoiselle d' Alenson, by which she begged her excuse that she could not wait upon her to the Park, upon some pretence that could by no means in the world be dispensed withal. The Princess had a good mind several times to break off the assignation, and then she saw the inconveniencies of it, and feared lest this Interview, though wholly Innocent, might be construed to her disadvantage. On the other side, the desire of seeing the Prince urged her mightily to it.  
After she had made a thousand tumultuous reflections, she determined to do what her heart inspired her to. She went into the Park a little after it was dark, but it was with a great deal of trembling. The confusion of those Sentiments seemed to presage no happiness to her from this carriage; she had already took some turns in a shady private walk that she had made choice of, because it appeared to her more retired, and so consequently more safe, when she perceived a man by the glimmering light of the Moon to come over the Park pale, and making near her in an humble and respectful posture, she advanced towards him: By the peril I expose myself to, judge, said she to him, in beginning with him, of my esteem, and of my affection; for at last, after the cruel Prohibitions from my Father of speaking to you, what confusion should I receive, if ever it should be discovered that I had a private Interview with the Count de Dunois; and especially if it were known by the Marshal? And why, Mademoiselle, interrupted the Marshal, (for it was neither better nor worse, but even he himself) is this unhappy Marshal so dreadful to you, who cannot be suspected by you, without becoming at the same time the object of your hatred? It is easy to be judged what was the Princess her surprise, when she heard this voice: Yet she only had a suspicion of her unhappiness from it; but what was her fear when she began to think, that the Count de Dunois might come, and that finding her there at that hour with the Marshal, he might a little doubt her sincerity; or that seeking an opportunity to quarrel with him, he might take this advantage from this Rencounter. A thousand things came into her imagination, which put her almost into fatal Trances. The Marshal perceived it by her silence, and though a few steps she fled away from him, yet he respectfully caught hold of her by her Garment: I see well, said he to her, Mademoiselle, that this Counter-time is displeasing to you, and that for a happy moment, for which you were waiting, you are like to have but a very troublesome one: But since the goodness of my stars conducted me here, suffer me to profit by it; and that I tell you a truth which I have a long time kept private to myself, and did resolve never to speak of it: Know then, Mademoiselle, if you thought to find here a Prince that is deep in Love; you find here in his place one that is the most passionate of all the men in the world: Your Birth has not dazzled me, but your Charms have seduced my Reason; and maugre all the resolutions that I took never to love any thing, I have left myself to be overcome by that Ardour that must consume me. What! replied Madamoiselle d' Alenson, you do not only find yourself in a place where I have nothing to fear but you, but you will yet serve yourself of this advantage, and lose that respect that is your duty in speaking to me of your foolish passion: But not to entertain it, continued the Princess, know, that Fortune does not so much make me averse to you, as the disestimation, nay hatred, that I have conceived from your unworthy procedure. Ah! Mademoiselle, interrupted the Marshal, do not you think of that despair that now you cast me into, and fear you nothing from a Man of Spirit, whose love and respect you slight? If you kept yourself, interrupted she, within the bounds of that Virtue that a Man of Honour prescribes to himself, you would not have taken such indiscreet measures to trouble the Innocent and harmless kindness which I have for the Count de Dunois, and to begin the Intrigue of an Alliance, where, according to all appearances, you shall never be happy in the success? Do not you abuse yourself with the thoughts of it, pursued she, it may happen, that I shall never be for him to whom my heart does destiny me; but it is certain, that I will die a thousand times over, rather than you shall be the Director of my Fortune. It may be, Madamoiselle, said the Marshal, that the inclinations of Mounsieur, your Father, will make you change your resolves now, and that your Virtue will not betray itself by a disobedience that will appear Criminal to all the world: Things are now in such a posture, that you ought not much to hope for change. The Princess hearing the Marshal speak to her in this manner, thought that she should have died with grief, but she came to herself, and thought that in making him see the good that he lost by his proceed, she might inspire him with a desire of re-establishing himself in her favour: In truth, said she to him, I never knew that any gained the heart of those persons they love, by doing all they can to give them displeasure; and if my esteem was a happiness for you, why are you so desirous to lose it? and to what purpose does such a conduct serve you, that is so opposite to the way that might lead you to it? Alas! Madamoiselle, what reason do you demand from a man, who blindly follows the Laws that his passion imposes on him? I have perceived I was not able to live, and see you in the Arms of a Prince who loves you, and whom you do not hate; and I thought in procuring you a strange Alliance, I should be less wretched, though I exposed myself to the unhappiness of your absence. You expose yourself thereby, replied the Princess, to all those that may follow my indignation: If you had loved me with the respect you own to me; if you had left it to me to Divine your passion, I might have complained of you, and not being able to answer your Sentiments, I might have, at least, granted you my esteem. I have told you already, Mademoiselle, replied the Marshal, that I had resolved never to speak of it whilst I lived; and I should have done so, if I had not been forced to seek my Cure in the testimonies of your compassion, or in the last marks of your hatred: But Mademoiselle, by the measure that you make me acquainted with it, my Love and my Dispair increase, so that I am not yet at the point where you desire me. The Princess had not held so tedious a Conversation, but for the fear she was in lest the Marshal should advertise the Dake d' Alenson, which kept her from leaving him alone: She still hoped to bring him back to his Reason, and constrained her Resentment, even to desire him not to reveal this secret to those that might condemn it. He did not make her a precise answer; he only told her, she was the Mistress of his silence, and it wholly depended on the manner that she meant to live with him. Madamoiselle d' Alenson had much ado to leave the Marshal in the disposition wherein she saw him; and it may be she had yet retained him, but the Marquis de la Trimoville, who by hazard came back to bathe himself with several other persons of the Court, was coming up to them, and ended this troublesome Interview. The Marshal withdrew first, and the Princess was not not long after him in it, having no disposition to expose herself to another Interview in the trouble her mind was in.  
When she was at her Apartment, she wrote a Note to Madam the Coming, to know of her the cause of this dangerous mistake. She gave it to a Maid, whom she ordered not to put it into the hand of this perfidious Confident, but when she should see no body with her. This Maid, who was called Madamoiselle de Rieux, and who was bred up with Madamoiselle d' Alenson, went to Madam the Coming; and informing herself in the Antichamber whether she was alone, she was told that the Count de Dunois had been there with her they knew not how long. She would not go in when she heard that, but went into a little Chamber, where she waited till they came, and told her that he was gone. Rieux discharged her Commission, and Madam the Coming seemed surprised in reading the Letter the Princess sent her; but because she looked every minute for the Mareschals coming to her, she dismissed Rieux with all the haste she could, telling her, that she would be to morrow with the Princess by that time she was out of her Bed, to give her as good accowt as she could in whatever she desired to be informed. Rieux carried her Mistress this imperfect answer, which in all probability did not give her much satisfaction: And as she asked her why she stayed so long for so slight a matter, Rieux frankly told her, that the Count de Dunois having past all the Evening with Madam the Coming, she waited till he was gone. Those words augmented the trouble in which the Princess then was: Jealousy began to fill up her thoughts, and made there its usual extravagancies. Sometimes she did hit upon some Ideas of the truth; but Jealousy would be Master, and made such disorder and confusion in her mind, that she stood in need of all her Reason to keep her from being wholly overcome by it. But this was but the beginning of her affliction; for in the midst of these troublesome reflections, the Duke her Father entered her Chamber, and as it was not ordinary for him to make her any Visits at such an unseasovable hour as that was, it gave her the greater surprise. But this severe Father did not suffer her to be long in suspense upon the occasion of his coming; he prevented her, by his outrageous reproaches of her Conduct, laying open to her her walking in the Park, in all the colours that might make it appear horrible to her. In vain the Princess would have justified herself by the approbation the Queen had given to her esteem for the Count de Dunois: he would not hear a word; and he was so carried out by his rage, that he had like to have committed the last violences against his Daughter.  
But at last, having Schooled her a great while, he left her, being weary with it; and it is very probable, that the Princess was extremely tormented to hear him. As he was going out, he did command her not to stir out of her Chamber but by his order: he appointed a Gentleman who had followed him, to observe her motions, and let none of her Women go out of her Apartment. Whilst the Princess was arguing with herself about her unhappiness, the Count de Dunois was as much disquieted within himself. He was gone to Madam de Cominge's, and not meeting with the Princess there, he was in hopes she would not be longe're she came, During the first moments, he was pleased with his impatience, in having brought him there to wait for her: but staying there a good while, without any other inquietude than that which attended on what one loves, he began to find the hours very long: Madam the Coming perceiving his uneasiness, feigned to be troubled at it: she made one of her Women be called, and ordered her to go and know where Madamoiselle d' Alenson did pass away the Evening. This Woman, after she had stayed long enough to make them believe that she had acquitted herself of her Commission, returned, and told her Mistress, that the Princess after she had walked a long time in the Park with the Marshal de Gié, was gone home. Madam the Coming, by an affected smile, stirred up in the heart of this unquiet Prince, the desire of knowing what she would say. Good God said this malicious piece of Harlotry to him, I am afraid of troubling you, therefore I beseech you release me from giving you an account of my thoughts; for besides that I may possibly be deceived, I must infallibly cause in you a great deal of disorder; I know by myself, that passionate and tender Souls do not find small faults in Love. These words obliged the Count to press this politic Factress for the Marshal, to explain herself a little more fully: But after a great many Ceremonies, both impertinent and troublesome, she told him, that she did not believe that the Princess would strongly resist the Authority of the Duke her Father; and that at the last conversation she had had with her, she had acknowledged that she was resolved, without much ado, upon a strange Marriage. It may be, said she to him, that this very moment your impatience gives you so much inquietude, it may be, I say— but no, 'tis not for me to make so just a discourse upon this conjuncture; and since your heart does not advertise you of it, my precaution should be useless. I beseech you Madam, replied the Count de Dunois, do not give off wholly overwhelming an unhappy man, in leaving him under an uncertainty of the Reason of his misfortune: Speak then, Madam, but speak sincerely; show me the Enemies I ought to oppose, and clear up to me a Mystery that I can understand nothing of without you: What, said Madam the Coming to him, you find a great deal of trouble in unravelling that which Mademoiselle d' Alenson might have prevented by her being here. You apprehend, that the time which she ought to spend with you, she casts away peaceably upon the Marshal de Gié, and never remembers herself, that you wait for her at my Lodgings. Methinks, continued this cunning Gipsy, that having so much Spirit, and so much Love as you have, you ought to be more informed about this matter. The Esteem and the Love which I have for the Princess, replied the Count, does so strongly defend her in my heart, that I have no mind to suspect her of a weakness, so contrary to the Opinion I have conceived of her Sincerity. But yet, interrupted Madam the Coming, the Princess knows that the Marshal is most passionately smitten with her, that he treats about her Marriage with the Duke of Milan: She gives him the time that she had destined for you; you love her, you think likewise she is in love with you: Reconcile all these things, if you can, and see if your suspicions be unjust. The love of the Marshal for Madamoiselle d' Alenson, replied the Count, shall never cause me to be Jealous; all things assure me, nothing disquiets me on that account; and had I but his Merit and his passion to overcome, I should not have much cause to complain. As to the Negotiation of Milan, the little appearance there is that the Marshal should succeed in that Enterprise, seems to resolve me of the Event, and should make him have an aversion for it, since it cannot but turn to his confusion; and for the love which I bear the Princess, it is of the force of that love from which I pretend to derive my safety, and the assurance of her Esteem and Friendship. I know very well, pursued he, that the appearances are against her, but if they accuse her, my love justifies her: You are very ingenious to deceive yourself, replied Madam the Coming; or that I may speak more handsomely, you are a little too much prepossessed, and can scarcely discern the different Sentiments that you create in hearts. Consider better— If I am ingenious to deceive myself, interrupted the Count, beginning to be a little yellow; Madam the Coming, you are too ingenious to ruin the little repose that is remaining in me: But neither to believe your Artifices, nor my credulity in the case, I will take my leave, and endeavour to inform myself better. To conclude; he left her, and went home, where he found Mounsieur de la Trimoville who waited for him, to acquaint him that he had seen Madamoiselle d' Alenson, and the Marshal, walking together in the Park. The Count, who already had been told of this meeting, could not forbear conceiving a new vexation, now he heard it confirmed, and strengthened himself in his suspicions against Madam the Coming. He told the Marquis the Conversation he had had with her; and the Marquis made him be of the Opinion, that it was an effect of the passion she had always had for him, and of the intelligence that was between her and the Marshal. In the mean time, the Marshal gave Madam the Coming an account of his conversation with the Princess: I left her, said he to her, with the fear that I would reveal so important a secret to the Duke her Father; for as for the Duchess, I have observed, that she by little and little gins to be of the same sentiments with her Daughter. I took then the surest way; I went directly to Mounsieur d' Alenson's, to whom I gave such a Relation of this Adventure, as I thought might be serviceable to my design, and I suppressed what I imagined might be of prejudice to me, or which might render me suspected by the Duke. He seemed to be much incensed; and a little after he was come to himself, he took a resolution to be gone the next night after, to the end that, said he to me, I might give leisure unto absence to make its ordinary effect upon the heart of the Princess.  
As I was speaking to him in the King his Antichamber, he thought it convenient to take his leave of him, and tell him the reasons of his so sudden a departure, which the King found very judicious, and weighty. He departed from the Queen, who had been strongly speaking to him in favour of the Count de Dunois, and though what the Queen told him had great appearances of Reason, yet the maxims of State carried him above the compliances he had for her. So that, continued the Marshal, you may observe that our affairs are in a pretty good forwardness for the establishing of our repose. Madam the Coming, on her part, did not fail to tell him of the Count's impatiencies, and the little progress she had made upon his heart; which made them both be of the mind, that the departure of Madamoiselle d' Alenson was the only Remedy they could find out to cure them of their afflictions. Whilst these perfidious Lovers were laying about them, and plotting all these Artifices, the Count de Dunois suffered all that a man was capable of suffering; for Mounsieur de la Trimoville, who had seen Mounsieur d' Alenson and the Marshal in a great conference, and who afterwards saw them speaking both together with the King, made him conjecture, that his affairs were likely to be ruined. It was then that the counsels of this generous and prudent Friend were very necessary for him, to hinder him from punishing openly the secret offences of the Marshal; a thing that would have absolutely spoiled the affairs of the Count He knew not by which way he could instruct himself in the interview of the Park, there being none but the Marshal, and Madam the Coming, who knew positively the truth of it. He would not send either his Friends, or any of his menial Servants, to inform himself about what she did, for fear of doing any thing that might displease him. Not knowing then what to conclude upon, there came a thought into the head of Mounsieur de la Trimoville, which as you shall hear, by what will afterwards fall out, did happen to him even according to his own wish.  
Maisiere was a person suspected by none at Court; his Foppishness and Antic kind of tricks, made him pass currently for an Extravagant Fellow: But Mounsieur de la Trimoville who was acquainted with him, by his having been serviceable to him in some former occasions and designs which he managed with sufficient prudence, imagined, that having free access every where, he might more easily make discoveries than any other, of what passed in the world, especially at Mademoiselle d' Alenson's. The Count, who was neither satisfied of his discretion, nor of the safety there was in trusting him, could very hardly resolve to make use of him: But Mounsieur de la Trimoville having delivered him from those doubts and scruples, in giving him an account of Maisiere his conduct, they gave a Page order to look him out, but to do it so, that no body should take notice of it, and to bring him into the Count his Chamber.  
The Page was not long in doing his duty, but quickly returned; for Maisiere continually earnest and follicitous to be acquainted with the Intrigues and Adventures both of Night and Day, went from one Apartment to another, to hear News, and utter it again when he had done. As he was known to be a great Briber of Servants, there was scarce any person that had not once, or ostner, received something from him; so that Maisiere was not ignorant of any thing that he had a mind to know. The Page having brought him then to the Count de Dunois his Lodgings, he was surprised to see how Maisiere acquitted himself, in speaking to him with a certain brisk and assured countenance, which he ordinarily affected, and took on him a good manly figure, as the others did. He spoke all the fine things in the world in admiration of the Count's civility, who at last told him the service that he desired of him. If it had been permitted me, said Maisiere to him, to enter into this Secret without being called to it, I should have given you some instructions, which would not have been unprofitable to you. For Sir, continued he, I was with Mademoiselle d' Alenson's Women, when the Marshal entertained her: I cannot give you a precise account of their conversation, but I know very well that the Princess was extremely surprised to find him in that place. I know farther also, that she went away very much troubled, and more than all that, I know that the Marshal, after he had looked for the Duke d' Alenson at his own House, he met him in the King's Antichamber, to whom they both spoke: When that discourse was ended, Mounsieur d' Alenson went to Madamoiselle's his Daughter, where he has left behind two Officers, whom I am pretty intimately acquainted with, who have orders to look after her, and not to suffer any whosoever to come into her Apartment: which thing surprised me, continued Maisiere, and coming to Madam de Cominge's to inform myself whence this so strict Guard should proceed, I understood that it was an Intrigue of the Mareschals, who appeared extremely satisfied at it. For my part, I was not so for all that, not being able to find you in any of the places where I went, to discover the truth of this adventure. I knew not what to think when I met with your Page, who has happily brought me hither: I say happily, Sir, for it would be the greatest advantage that Fortune could procure me, in giving me a life to employ in your most humble Service.  
This Relation of Maisiere's, made the Count perceive that Madamoiselle d' Alenson was Innocent still; but at the same time it confirmed him in the thought, that the Marshal was otherwise, and both against the Princess, and him. Mounsieur de la Trimoville could scarcely forbear going presently and quarrel with the Marshal, and punish him for the afflictions he made them endure; but the express Commands to the contrary of the Queens, kept him from doing it. The hour was then too late and unseasonable for him to discover the posture that things were in. After they had rolled over a thousand things in their heads, which thwarted and crossed each other, they thought they could put nothing in execution till the next day. But yet after Maisiere had been sufficiently recompensed in hand for the service the Count hoped to get from him; he prayed him only to observe what passed in the Duke d' Alenson's House, and what was done to and with the Princess his Daughter, which he promised him, and went away at the same time to discharge himself of it.  
The Count de Dunois, and the Marquis de la Trimoville, reflecting in their minds whatsoever they had seen, and what they had learned, were fully confirmed what Madam the Coming had betrayed Madamoiselle d' Alenson, as well as the Count The jealous suspicions that she fain would have cast into the Count's head to the disadvamage of his Princess, and all the conversations that he had had with her, did but assure him too much of it. It is easy to be imagined, that this thought did furnish him with a great many others more troublesome all the rest of the night; and if it was the custom of our French Heroes to make a great many unprofitable reasonings and discourses to themselves, the Count de Dunois had matter of reflection ample enough: But having thought fit, with the Marquis de la Trimoville, that he ought not to take any Resolutions, but only upon the Orders that he should receive from the Queen, they left one another, to take, if possible, a little rest themselves. In all probability the Count had not much; for it is to be imagined, that he was seeking out the Knot and Mystery of this Intrigue, but the moment in which he was to find it was not yet come. It was not very long  the day appeared, and scarce did it afford so much light as to direct him, but that Maisiere was knocking at the door of the Count's Antichamber. One of his Servants was laid down there, and thought that Maisiere, as his ordinary custom was, did want a Bed, and was looking one to take an hour or two's sleep on, not having any one of his own that he was well assured of. After he had stood waiting there a pretty while, he opened the door: He said, he would speak with the Count; but it would not be permitted him, not thinking that he had any thing to say important enough to trouble the repose of the Prince, but he was so earnest and pressing, that he was forced at last to do what he desired. When he entered into the Chamber, and came near the Count's Bed, he told him that the Duke was gone with his Wife, and his Daughter. As he departed from hence, said Maisiere, I went to one of the Gentlemen Ushers of Madam the Duchess, who is one of my Friends, and pretending that I should stand in need of his kindness to let me pass the rest of the night with him; the Gates of the Castle being shut, he told me, that he did not intent to make any use of his Bed himself, and therefore, with all his heart, he would lend me his Chamber, not only for some hours, but till he came back again: I was very solicitous with him to tell me where he was going: He answered me, that he was waiting upon his Mistress, who was resolved for Alenson: I demanded of him, whether he knew the reason of their going thither, but I soon perceived they had not acquainted him with it; for there was not any thing that he would keep a secret from me. I betook myself to play with him an hour or two, and a Gentleman-Usher of the Dukes joined in with us, and told us, without any bodies ask him, that the Journey was took only to deprive you of Madamoiselle d' Alenson, who, as was said, in all people's accounts, had a great value and esteem for you; and because she was destined for the Duke of Milan, it was thought, that removing her from your sight, you might likewise be removed from her affection. News came just at this instant to these Gentlemen, that Mounsieur d' Alenson was ready to come down from his Apartment: I got myself into the Court, where feigning to be light by accident, I came up to him to make him see me. You are diligent to be up so early, said he to me: It is late for me Sir, answered I him, making a very low Honour, for I am not yet laid down; but I may say Sir, 'tis extreme early for you. It is true, said he to me, walking onward as he spoke, but I do take the coolness of the night, for I mean to abate and avoid the sultry heat of the mid. day. As he ended these words, he was got to the place where his Coaches waited him, getting up into his own, he said to me very obligingly, Adieu Maisiere, shall not we see you at Alenson? if you'll come thither to us, we will make you welcome: I assured him I would joyfully come, if he was pleased to do me the Honour to command it me: I pray do then, said he to me. All the time I was speaking to him, I had my eyes much upon the Princess, hers seemed to look languishingly towards me, and when she passed under your Windows, I observed her, and made her remark it; but she answered me with a nod of her head, which I did not look upon as a good Omen. She went into the Coach with Mounsieur her Father, and Madam her Mother, and I went to take my leave of the Princess' Women. I came softly to Madamoiselle de Rieux, who has been my very good Friend a long time; and in saluting her, I begged of her, that she would sometimes speak of you to the Princess: I spoke to her so much the more readily, because I knew she interesses herself mightily on your behalf, and she has the liberty to speak her thoughts. I durst not, replied she to me, the Princess has too much cause to complain of him; for instead of being in the Park, he spent the Evening with Madam the Coming. Disabuse your fair Mistress, answered I her, for it was a trick of that Ladies, where Mounsieur le Count bore no part. I had much ado to tell her those few words, and should not have done it, had there not been something to set to rights about the Coach: when it begun to set forwards, I withdrew; and came presently to give you this advertisement. This was worse news to the Count, than if there had been a thousand Furies and Devils about his ears, particularly when he knew that Madamoiselle d' Alenson went away with a kind of an incensed indignation against him. He asked Maisiere a hundred questions, to which he made as good Answers as his knowledge would give him leave. He asked him, how he had learned that it was an Artifice of Madam de Cominge's, and that he had not seen the Princess. I know nothing of it exactly, answered Maisiere, but there is great probability, for the Marshal and she have had a long conversation, which made me to apprehend the intelligence that is between them. The Count de Duunois sent to desire the Marquis de la Trimoville to come to his Apartment. He was not long before he appeared, where he did his ordinary office of proving a Consolator. At last, the Count said to him, I have no more to fear, since Fortune has not more to do against me: I love my fair Princess with all the ardour and tenderness wherewith a heart is capable of being filled: she has the goodness to assure me, that I have an advantageous place in hers; I see again a thousand Innocent marks of her affection; I am protected by the Queen, and all things seem to be favourable to my desires; and yet I am the most miserable of all men; all these appearances have not promised me so great blessings, but only to make me feel the loss of them with more sensibleness: in this prosperous estate I rested myself too much upon the happiness of my destiny, and have given mine Enemies a place to establish their affairs upon the ruins of my own. Things are yet in a condition, replied the Marquis, that does not forbid you to hope; the Queen is for you. Alas! said the Count softly, the Queen is for me, it is true, but my Princess it against me; she is gone away in such a dangerous disposition, that her anger, or absence, or forgetfulness, which is an infallible consequence of it, will banish me for ever her Breast.  
Maisiere, for his part, was in a deep musing all this time that the Count had been speaking; but coming of a sudden out of his serious posture, Courage, comfort yourself, said be to him, it is not so difficult as you imagine, to re-establish yourself in the favour of the Princess; Mounsieur le Duke d' Alenson has commanded me in an invitation to come and see him at his house at Alenson; I will not only promise you to establish a most safe Commerce between the Princess and you, but I will engage her to give you leave to see her, if an occasion does but present itself: Pray, in the mean time, be not you too boisterous and violent, but repose yourself on your Love, and my cares to serve you, and I warrant I keep you, at least, from being forgot by her; for I will speak of you to her so often, as she shall have no leisure to banish you from her memory. Though the Count de Dunois had his mind filled with vexations and inquietudes, yet he concealed them all, that he might not afford his Enemies any room to make their advantages by his perplexities and troubles. He appeared with the King, if not with a brisk, gay, frolic humour, at least with a countenance that seemed as if it had nothing that disturbed it; and the King spoke so many obliging things to him that day, that if he had as much pored upon his Fortune, as he did upon his Love, he ought to have been very well satisfied. He went also to the Queen, who flattered his afflictions with much kindness, and good nature, and for some time suspended the violence of them. During which, she spoke to him of Madamoiselle d' Alenson's departure, and that the Marshal began to repent that he had caused her Banishment: He felt the rigours of that absence, which already gave him so cruel a persecution, that he was more than one time plotting in his head the means how he should get this Princess back again, with the same ardour and precipitation, as he had used to get her at that distance from him: But Madam the Coming, who had as much reason to be afraid of her return, as the Marshal had to desire it; told him, that it would be a means to make him suspected by so sudden a change; and so turned him off from thinking any more of it.  
This was the time that the Marshal confirmed himself in the Opinion he had always had, that Love was the Rock of Virtue, and the Enemy of all quiet and repose: His memory then furnished him with an Idea of all that his unjust passion made him do against his duty; and the pains he felt, began to prove his punishment already. Madam the Coming was the only person that must know the secret of his stings and remorses; and though she made use of very powerful arguments to recover him, he could not without an extreme melancholy, think how he was absent, how he was plunged over head and ears in Love, and how he was most mortally hated. Whilst he was suffering all his thought to run out upon the reflection of what was past, the Count de Dunois let all his go upon the foresight of what was to come: For in the conversation that he had with the Queen, he persuaded her to make use of her Authority, to know from Madam de Cominge's own mouth the truths that he could not unravel, but very imperfectly, and the certainty whereof imported much to his repose, not to look any farther to clear up himself thereof. The Queen asked him what Interest Madam the Coming could have to trouble his passion for Madamoiselle d' Alenson; which put the Prince into a great confusion: for though he had a great desire that the Queen should be informed of the Sentiments that this Lady had for him, yet he would have been very glad, that it should not have been from his mouth, that she should have learned it. Nevertheless, not knowing how to do otherwise, he told the Queen so many doubtful and suspicious things, that at last she did understand what meaning he was willing that she should put upon them: She promised him from that time to speak to Madam the Coming. The Count withdrew into his own Apartment, to give himself a little liberty to consider in what condition his Fortune then was, when an Old Woman came and presented to him a Letter from Madamoiselle de Rieux. The Prince received it, but it was with a peck of troubles, for he shook when he took it, as if he had got the Cold Fit of an Ague upon him, imagining that he should find there the confirmation of his disgrace. After he had opened it, he knew it was written with the Princess her own hand, and read it in these words.  
Madamoiselle's Letter to the Count de Dunois.  
I Go away from the Court without any other regret upon me, than that of having had too great an Esteem for you: It is insufferable for Persons of my Humour to be mistaken in the like Emergencies; but Repentance pursues the fault so close at the heels, that for the future I will have little cause to reproach myself.  
 
POSTSCRIPT.  
I Do not make use of the way of Madam de Coming to convey to you this Letter, she is too much interested to enter into this confidence.  
Having read it several times over, as to his particular, he shown it to Mounsieur de la Trimoville, who counselled him to inform the Queen of it, that so she might make use of it, to know of Madam the Coming what was so mightily desired to be learned. When it was Evening, the Queen having called her into her Closet, she was scarce able to keep up that assurance that was almost natural to her: And the Queen seeing of her alone with herself, looked upon her with an Air full of Majesty: I wonder, said she to her, Madam the Coming, that after I have so many times discovered to you, the desire I have for the Count de Dunois his Marriage with Madamoiselle d' Alenson, I wonder, I say, that you should be so careful and industrious in opposing it; for indeed, it is unprofitable for you to think of denying to me a thing that I know for such a certainty: Also it is not to instruct myself about it, that I have called you here; but to know of you the reason that might have obliged you to take upon you the interests of the Marshal de Gié, against those of the Count de Dunois, being so well assured that this Conduct was contrary to my intentions. The Queen seeing that Madam de Coming gave her no answer, and that her confidence began to fail, by the confusion that appeared in her face, Your silence, continues the Queen, does not suffice for the acknowledgement of your fault, I ask a sincere Declaration of it, if you mean to have my pardon for it; but I declare to you, that if you resolve not to do what I demand of you, I shall without doubt find out ways to make myself be obeyed. Now if the confession of your weakness will be a trouble for you to make, that trouble that you will have by it, will cause me to excuse it; I will have compassion of it, and only blame what deserves to be punished. But still, once more, you must repair your artifice by a sincerity so free and generous, as shall persuade me of your Repentance. Madam de Coming seeing that the Queen was resolved to be obeyed, fling herself at her feet, poured out tears innumerable, and appeared so afflicted and sorrowful, that the Queen was so kind as to restore her mind to a more quiet frame and temper, in promising to pardon her. After which, she gave the Queen an exact Relation of all that had passed between the Marshal, and her; the Motives that had induced her to take up his Interests; the truth of the Assignation in the Park, and, in a word, all the secret of that Intrigue, and all others. But, said the Queen to her craftily, how would you have me that I shall believe you, and that I shall commit myself to your Loyalty, seeing that in this procedure you have so often been defective in it? Ah! Madam, replied Madam the Coming, it shall not be difficult for me to justify the truth of my words, divers Letters which I have happily kept, shall be the irreproachable Evidences of my sincerity. The Queen put many questions to her, to which she answered according to her knowledge; but when she came to demand what she knew of the Negotiation of Milan, Madam the Coming assured her, that she knew no more of it than others did, and that the Marshal had never made her enter into the depth of this confidence. It may be, said the Queen, you have not very much pressed him to it, for in the intelligence in which you are, 'tis not to be believed, that he should have denied you so small a thing, in a time wherein you did so much for him. It is true, replied Madam the Coming, I did not much concern myself from whence the trouble came, provided that I had the satisfaction to stir him up to it. But Madam, I do without any Hesitancy own my Crime, continued she, and am ready to repair it by all the ways it shall please your Majesty to ordain me. If it be so, there is yet a way, replied the Queen, left for you to be re-established in my Esteem; and it is, that after you have done all against the Count de Dunois, so I would have you do all for him; what went formerly for an unworthy Artifice, shall now become a commendable Address, when you shall act by my Orders, and for Justice. I will then, pursued the Queen, that you give into my hands the Letters of the Marshal, I will that you endeavour to discover the condition that the affair of Milan is now in; and I will lastly, that you do what ever you can to ruin the success of it. Madam de Coming fearing nothing so much as to be banished the Court, and loving nothing more than to betray those that were so mad to put any trust and reliance upon her, did easily thereupon resolve to delude Mounsieur le Marshal, and wholly to betake herself to the Interests of the Count de Dunois. She did not derogate from her character of Imposture; and her Perfidy only made her change the Object. She than promised the Queen to do nothing for the future but by her Commission. And to assure her as much as she could beforehand of what she then promised her, she did deliver into her hands all the Letters that the Marshal had written to her, which clearly discovered to her his love for Madamoiselle d' Alenson, and assured her at the same time, to squeeze out from him some more of them that should be more urging, and full of Explication. At last the Queen terrified her so to the purpose, and flattered her also with so much prudence, that made her fully determine she would never take any other course than this, which she knew, as much as she could do, was the safest. The Count de Dunois, after he had understood this change, and knew of Madam the Coming the truth of this adventure, sacrificed his resentment to the necessity he was in of her, and she promised him from that time forward to be of the number of his Friends; but she was not any sooner in a condition of acting according to her promise, but the Marshal fell dangerously sick. During the time that Maisiere began to dispose his affairs for his Journey to Alenson (I say dispose his affairs) for he had enough to employ, I do not know how many persons; he was a Matchmaker, and an Accommodater of Differences, he furnished with Menial Servants all those that had any occasion for them; he was known to the Ladies, and he suffered I know not what for them, by a thousand little services that he did them: and there was scarce any news, let it be as private and particular as possibly it could be, but what he knew of one of the first. Indeed he was something singular as to the manner of dressing himself: He did not affect to have his apparel quite different from others, but he shifted his  almost every hour in the day; sometimes like a Citizen, sometimes like a Cavalier, and always in a Fashion that was very extravagant and ridiculous. But yet this fantastical outside did not keep Maisiere from having a good, solid, and piercing Wit, and that was capable to manage any difficult Enterprise: nay, to add to all this, he had a discretion that gave him the confidence of all those to whom he was known.  
The assurance that the Marquis de la Trimoville gave thereof to the Count de Dunois, made him fully resolve to commit at last this secret to him, and to send him to Alenson, to instruct the Princess of the condition in which things were then. The Count gave him both Money and Jewels, as well for his own occasions, as to gain him the persons he stood in need of to accomplish his design. After which he departed for Alenson, where there was need of the like succour, to dissipate the trouble of a solitude that was very disagreeable. He was received by the Duke and Duchess with a great many assurances of their kindness, and much more by Madamoiselle d' Alenson, their Daughter. By good hap the intriguing humour of Maisiere was not suspected in this Court, because it was altogether unknown there; and he concealed it so handsomely, that he did not give the least suspicion to any one of the reason of his Journey. He thought indeed, that Madamoiselle d' Alenson might have an impatient curiosity to know what passed at Amboise, but yet he had a mind that she should desire it, and only said to Rieux therefore, that there had happened a great many accidents since the departure of the Princess, whereof she would perhaps be glad to be informed. He understood by Rieux, that her Mistress desired nothing so much in the whole world, as to hear that the Count was Innocent. Rieux seeming to concern herself in his Interests, he did not fail of getting her over absolutely to him, by presenting her with a Diamond of no inconsiderable value, as coming from the Prince. She did make a great deal of stir to accept of it: But Maisiere, who was very well versed in the skill of receiving Presents, without ever putting himself to the blush by it, quickly instructed her to take that without making any scruple, or case of Conscience about it. The desire that the Princess had to hear the news  most affected her, increased every moment, and made her, being one Evening in her Chamber only with Rieux: I admire, said she to her, that Maisiere, who to often discourses with you, has not told you whether the Commerce between the Count de Dunois, and Madam the Coming, is very well established; if they do appear well reconciled, and satisfied, and what the World talks of it: He has not spoke to me a word about it, replied Rieux; but on the contrary, he told me, that your departure has caused a general astonishment and consternation in all hearts; and ever since the time that you went away, he has not spoke with the Lady whom you now mentioned to me. It may be, Madamoiselle, that if you please to instruct yourself about it, he will very gladly satisfy your curiosity: But I do not believe that Maisiere will repose any confidence in me, without you give him order for it: I shall then never learn any thing that I would fain know, said the Princess, for I am resolved I will not inform myself thereof: It may be, Madamoiselle, interrupted Rieux, you may hear of such things, as will by no means any way displease you: Well then, said the Princess, let him tell me them, without my ever being solicitous with him to demand them. It is you, Madamoiselle, replied Rieux, that must beget the occasion; for he will not venture to entertain you with it, if you do not in some measure assure him that you desire it. Heavens! replied the Princess, cannot you find any other ways to satisfy my curiosity, than by giving me the affliction of making it to appear? Rieux then perceiving what her Mistress would say to her, took upon her to engage Maisiere to what she so desired of him. But Maisiere, who was concermed to discharge himself prudently of his Commission, fearing to do otherwise than according to the measures he had taken, to establish an assured Commerce between the Princess and the Count de Dunois, was not over-solicitous to be in her company. He took his time one day that the Duke and Duchess his Wife were in a Chamber by themselves in conference, where they would not have any thing to interrupt and disturb them; that day than Madamoiselle d' Alenson had a mind to take the Air in a very delicate beautiful Garden, that lay in sight of the Castle, with her Women, and Maisiere: He insensibly fell into discourse with the Princess, and as she was ask of him how they diverted themselves at Amboise since her coming from thence: Those who are afflicted at it, Mademoiselle, answered Maisiere, have nothing further to make them grieve: And what is called affliction, continued he, is in my Opinion, nothing but the privation of some pleasure; but your absence has banished them all from the Court, and has made all those, who knew the worth of that blessing which they have lost, miserable. I know a certain person who is so sensibly touched at it, that if this absence continues long, you will lose that person for ever.  
Maisiere then a little while having refrained speaking: And what, Mademoiselle, went he on, have you so little compassion of the evils that you are the cause of, that you will not inform yourself who those are that undergo them? I did not ask you, replied the Princess, the names of those who were afflicted at Court, I would only have known how they do divert themselves there: Very illy, Madamoiselle, replied Maisiere presently, and Mounsieur le Count de Dunois worse than the rest of the World, put them all together; not only for that your absence has made him become melancholy to extremity, but because he has that wretchedness of Fortune, as to be out of your Esteem: Do not interrupt me, Madamoiselle, and please you, said he to her, but give me your patience to hear what I have to say to you; learn, without exasperating of things, who does wholly deserve your compassion, and who is able to undeceive you of the unjust Opinion that you have conceived of the infidelity of Mounsieur le Count de Dunois. But not that you should absolutely give credit to my sincerity, see, if it please you, in this Letter, the Faith that you may take upon it. The Princess would not receive it; but fearing that the resistance she made might be taken notice of by her Women, and that they might suspect Maisiere to be of intelligence with the Count, she satisfied herself with the discovery whose the Characters were, by the Superscription, and permitted Maisiere to convey it into the hands of Rieux. After that he told Madamoiselle d' Alenson the confession that Madam de Coming had made to the Queen of her perfidiousness, the truth of the false Assignation of the Park, and generally all that she was ignorant of, since the return of the King, even to the Marshal his falling sick. Maisiere easily perceived that this Relation was not displeasing to the Princess, who not absolutely relying upon his Loyalty, was a little angry at him that he had charged himself with this Commission, and forbidden him, although very coldly, not to take upon him any more the like for the future. I will do more, replied Maisiere, for if you command it me, I will never speak again of it in my life to you. I do not not say so, answered the Princess; but— as they were there, Mounsieur and Madam d' Alenson came so near the place where Mademoiselle d' Alenson was, that they were forced of necessity to break off the discourse, although it was extremely agreeable and pleasing to her. The Duke having demanded of Maisiere what he had been entertaining the Princess with; he answered him, that he was telling of her a very pleasant story which happened to him not long since. The Duke, and the Duchess, desired him to begin it again, which he did without any kind of Hesitation; as Humming and Haughing, wring of the Nose, and Spitting, and God knows what of that nature, which is the usual Ceremony that Ushers in such an Entertainment, but with a brisk and confident assurance he thus framed his discourse.  

THE HISTORY OF THE Visionary Ladies.  
THe Adventure whereof I will take upon me to be the Hero, will appear to you, without doubt, very fantastical; and so I may assure you, that this most infinitely is. I parted from Amboise, together with the King, when he set out for Italy, not so much with a design to fight, as to make a pleasant Journey of it. I remained sick at Turin, where I was a long time without ever stirring out of my Chamber. The Count de Santiniany was so kind as to visit me in my sickness; I had the Honour to be known to him in France, where I made it my business to acquaint him with a thousand things that a Person of Quality is glad to hear of in a strange Court: When I was perfectly well, he would not give me leave to go so soon from Turin; and that the stay should not be incommodious to me there, he gave me a Lodging in his own House, and made me acquainted with all the Court of Savoy; where, 'tis certain, that in a short time I was as knowing as in this. I accompanied him to a great many Lady's houses of High Quality and Merit, where there happened to me nothing remarkable; but being gone to visit the Countess de Bevilaqua, I was surprised to see in her so many extraordinary rare and transcendent Qualities; for she had not only a Natural brisk Wit, but it was improved beyond all things that ever was seen in her Sex, and she made a Judgement of all fine things that was the most exquisite in the World, all that ever she spoke came freely from her, and had an admirable Grace with it, that pleased infinitely: She was extremely neat and exact in her House, and her ; and as for her person, though it was a little superannuated, yet it had not left off being very agreeable and taking. I observed also in her one Beauty, that is very rarely seen with so many years, it was her Hair, whereof she had a most prodigious quantity of the purest Flaxen colour that ever was beheld. I looked upon this Lady with admiration, and never thought I had seen any in my life whose Merit was more accomplished. I did continue almost two hours in this Opinion, and in all probability had done so still, if the Count de Santiniany, who knew her weakness, and had a desire to mind her of the time of the death of one of her Brothers, had not said to her, that it was a few days, either before, or after the death of Mounsieur de Bronzoly. Ah! Mounsieur, cried the Countess up aloud, do you live too in such a grand ignorance, to believe that Mounsieur de Bronzoly is dead? No, no Sir, do not you injure the most accomplished of all men, to subject him to that rigorous term of life. When the Gods, to punish Mortals, had a mind to deprive the World of that Adorable Person, that was the second half of me, they placed him in the number of the Demigods; and as he was all Spirit, they did Emancipate him from those severe and binding Laws that Nature laid as a Fine upon all men in general. He was taken up to Heaven, where he remains ever since that he inhabited no more amongst us. This Opinion, said she, in turning herself towards me, may appear to you a little Chimerical; (Yes, thought I to myself, and so I may very well, and you too for conceiving it) but I am convinced of this Truth by Experiences that are not to be contested: For the short time that you tarry here, I will make you to come over on my side in it. To that end, said she, it is requisite that I send to know, if he has not writ to me, in a place where sometimes he conveys his Letters for me. To conclude, she sent one of her Footmen to look for a Letter from her Imaginary Gallant; after which, she began the conversation without any digression: I only perceived a little constraint upon her, but she quickly relieved herself from it, in dismissing a Gentleman we found with her. Mounsieur Hippolyta, said she to him, I pray leave me a moment in liberty, cannot you imagine that it is a torment to a body to be continually pestered with one and the same thing. Hippolyta went his way, and the Countess de Bevilaqua resumed her temper. She told us a story of a certain Lady of her Country, and promised me to inform me still of divers other things, which I ought not to be ignorant of in returning to France, desiring me very earnestly to come and see her again. I went away with the Count de Santiniany, and assured the Countess, that I would give myself the Honour of seeing her as often as I thought I should not be troublesome to her.  
When I was in a place where I could be over heard by none but the Count, I inquired who this deceased Mounsieur de Branzoly was: He told me, it was a Man, whose Merit and Wit had been so considerable, that for all that he was but of an obsure and mean Extraction, yet he was extremely beloved by most of the Ladies of Quality, and Condition. He was always received with a great deal of satisfaction, by all in general; but to speak the truth of it, said he, the Countess had still a more fervent esteem for him than the others: She imagined that this man, who had a greater share of Wit than of Body, ought not to die, and submit to that cruel necessity: But, said I to him, is it possible? Has she no Friends that are capable to disabuse her of an Error that is at such a distance from any reason in the World? There is none living, replied the Count, is able to work out of her Imagination that foolish and idle fancy of Bronzoly's. Immortality. Not long after, I desired the Count to tell me who and what that Mounsieur Hippolyta was: He is, replied he, a man whom the Countess has Espoused by Compassion, because his Fortune has been niggardly, and done nothing for him. This tender pity, said I to him, methinks is a little diminished; for it appears to me, that she neither treats him like a Husband, nor like a Friend; and much less like a man for whom she has the least esteem: She loves him never the less, replied the Count; but she does not forbear cheering up her heart sometimes from this necessary engagement by some slight kindnesses, it being certain that she has an inclination for Love, which she cannot overcome either by the reflection of her Age, or of that decency which would become her. I resolved to myself, to lay Siege to the Countess her heart, and try if I could make her be in Love with me: I hoped much from my odd kind of extravagant way with me; I easily thought that that would be more proper to get me into her good favours, than to go after a formal and starched manner. The next day I went again to her House, I found her alone, I cast some languishing eyes upon her, and sometimes I sighed A la Francois, which pleased her infinitely; and that day she told me, that she was mad that she had any engagement upon her of obligation to Mounsieur Hippolyta; and that next to Mounsieur de Bronzoly, I was the man in the World for whom she had the greatest inclination.  
Not to leave me any room to question it, she gave me her Picture, in a Case beset with very rich Diamonds. Mounsieur Hippolyta just then came into the Room, I was not very much pleased at it, and the Countess was yet less: she sadly fell out with him for being come so early; but he went no more out all that day. The conversation began to grow a little flat, and grovelling, when there came a Page to her from Madam de Raviary, to give her service to the Countess. She received the civility with a Compliment of the like nature: but when the Page was gone, she told me, that although she dwelled in a quarter of Turin, where there were the chiefest of the Ladies of Quality, yet she was so unhappy, as to have them unsociable, being persons that had Imaginary Visions that made them forbear either making any Visits themselves, or receiving any from others. I was a little surprised to hear the Countess begin to talk of the Chimeras and Visions of others, having herself of them such extravagant ones: but not reckoning upon her own as any thing, she told me, that the Lady whose Page I had seen, would not see any person, because it was a very hard matter to have any discourse from them, but the word Love would be juggled in at some part or other of the conversation, and that word was insupportable to her; and if any one desired of her the reason, she could give no other, but that it did not come close enough to the Fancy. There is another among us, continued the Countess, in whose presence it is not permitted to speak of Death. She has had heretofore some Friends, who have been dead above these twenty years, to whom she sends constantly every day to hear how they do, because that no body has presumed to tell her that they are dead: But the greatest Rarity of them all, went the Countess on, is one that lives close by me, who sees the Light but two or three times in a year: She complains, that the Light makes her troubled with the Rheum; and she is so afraid of that Distemper, that she will not look upon a Book to read in it, because she says, that in turning over the Leaves of it, it causes so sharp a wind, that it makes her Eyes fore again with it. Few persons can get a sight of her; for except some Abbots, and two or three of the sour. looked Friars, all persons are forbid the least access to her. I found that these Ladies were very great Fools; and withal, that they were miserable, in having such whimsical and troublesome Imaginations. She that could not endure to hear the word Love, seemed to me more unreasonable than any of the rest, and I had a great suspicion upon me, that she had had some slippery trick played her; but the Countess assured me, that she never had made any trial either of the sweetness or bitterness of it, but she had always lived so severely with herself, and with her acquaintance, that few Women courted her Friendship, because she still did subject them to so great a constraint. I pitied much the Lady that was so exceeding fearful of Death, because there is nothing so common and sure; I pitied her so much the more, because only admitting her this frailty, she was looked upon as one that had a strange deal of Wit, and Merit. As for the dark and obscure Lady, I found her so singular, that she pleased me wonderfully. I was extremely glad Sir, of finding any persons in the world, of whom I might say without vanity, that they were less reasonable than myself; and at that time I made Lectures of Wisdom over the folly of others.  
When Night came, I would have been going, but the Countess desired me to tarry a little longer, and sup with her: I received a thousand assurances of her good will, and Mounsieur Hippolyta many signs of her aversion, which sensibly touched him: I was the Innocent cause of it, but I did not perceive that he designed me any mischief for it: But on the contrary, he went that Evening along with me to the Count de Santiniany's. As we walked along, he made me great protestations of friendship and kindness, which yet I did not give much credit to, but only so far as duty obliged me to receive them civilly; and as I did value my self much upon the honour that I received from Madam the Countess de Bevilaqua, he was craftily designing in his head to ruin me by his mischievous Politics. I would fain have waited on him home to his house, and had done it, but that I perceived the Ceremony would never have been ended. We parted both of us, being well satisfied. Mounsieur de Santiniany commanded me to give an account of my Journey, but considering that it is dangerous, and but little honest, to make a Confident of a Person of that Quality, I only acquainted him with what I might tell him without a forfeiture of my discretion: The History of the three Visionary Ladies was of great succour to me, to make him believe, that it was the greatest part of our Entertainment.  
He told me a great many more circumstances, which I did not give much heed to: For although I was not deeply in Love with the Countess, yet I did glory much in being beloved by a Woman of that Quality. But yet when I began to think how she was in Love with a Dead Man, and had Married another even through pity, I judged (and I thought I had a great deal of reason so to do) that my good Fortune would not be of a long continuance. I received a Letter from her the next Morning by break of day, in which she invited me to go and spend a day in the Country with her: I was to wait upon her pretty early, and was afraid that she had stayed for me; but I found her so taken up, as if she had never thought of her design for the Country. I was never so surprised as I was then when I came into her Chamber, for I saw there a Woman who was cutting off the Countess' hair with the greatest inhumanity in the world: I beg your pardon, said the Countess to me, for being seen by you in this posture; but Mounsieur de Bronzoly has sent me word this Morning by this Woman, that he desired me by that passion he had for me, to give him my Hair. I am overjoyed, pursued she, that he has required of me this mark of kindness, since it is impossible that I can give him a greater, having always had a great esteem for this Ornament. I would fain have obliged her to content herself with cutting off some part of it, but the cruel Lucia (for so was that She barber called) maintained to my face with a confidence that cannot be conceived, that it was Mounsieur de Bronzoly his most earnest request to Madam the Countess, not to leave any on. This good Lady was vexed at heart that she had so little, although there was scarce ever before seen a Head so well furnished as hers was with it. She tied it up with a Flame-coloured Ribbon, and put it in a Box of Vermilion guilt. After she had done so, without giving this dangerous person time to put on her things again which belonged to her Head: Go, said she to her, and carry this Box to Mounsieur de Bronzoly; tell him, that I sacrifice to him, without any regret, the only advantage which my years have left me. The more I condemned her earnestness in granting her Hair to be cut off, the more did she applaud herself, that she had suffered it, and I perceived that it was not safe to contradict her: She put off to the next day her design of going into the Country, which she could not execute then. I was with her at the hour appointed, and found her Head so neat and exact with her baked hair, as if I had still seen-her own on. We went up into the Coach with Mounsieur Hippolyta, who would be one, though the Countess could have said something to him to have prevented it.  
As we passed along the Great Street of the Palace, she perceived a great Stranger, who was mighty earnestly looking upon the Structure of it. She made the Coach to stop: Mounsieur Hippolyta, said she to him, do you see that man there, in such and such , (giving him a description of them) who is just by that Fountain, I pray ask him, if he will not came and walk with us: I demanded of her whether she knew him; No, replied she, but I see that by the posture he is in, he wants some divertisement. In vain would Mounsieur Hippolyta have shifted himself of it, and endeavoured to dissuade her from it: but all the Arguments he could think on were to as little purpose, as if he had saved himself the pains to pump for them: She would have gone down herself to have discharged her Commission, if I had not made a Sign to Mounsieur Hippolyta to spare the Countess that labour. He went to find the Stranger, to whom he made the greatest compliment that could be imagined; but the Germane did answer him no other ways than by his profound Reverences, not having understood so much as a word of what Hippolyta had spoken to him, nor of the Signs he had made to oblige him to come up to the Countess' Coach: which was not very difficult to be observed by their postures and Grimaces. The Countess seeing she was not like to have the German, resolved to gain something by the humour, and got away from Mounsieur Hippolyta, commanding her Coachman to drive on with all the speed he possibly could, so that Hippolyta should not be capable of getting to the Coach. If this proceeding of hers did not very much please him, it did extremely divert the Countess: I never thought she had been of such a pleasant humour as I found her that day. We went to one of those delicate places, which in that Country they call Vines, and we were very well received there. There wanted nothing that was possible to make a day pass away pleasantly. The Countess desired me to give her a Ring I had upon my Finger, and she gave me another of a much greater value, which she commanded me to wear as long as I lived. When we came back to her house, we found Mounsieur Hippolyta, who appeared very much enraged at me; but the Countess would not have troubled herself with taking notice of it, had not I caused her to observe it. I left her at liberty to receive the reproaches of Mounsieur Hippolyta: The Count de Santiniany, who began to suspect that the Countess had some kindness for me, was very earnest with me to confess it to him; the Ring that she had given me, and which he had perceived at Supper, through my negligence, changed his diffidence into a certainty: He assured me that he was very glad that I had such a pleasant reason to stay me at Turin; but he advertised me, that the passions of that Lady were violent, but like a furious Tempest, did not last long. I saw her every day, but found not the least alteration in her humour, and I thought she had quite forgot the Image of the Demigod, when it came into her head on a sudden, in the most extraordinary manner in the world. I was leading of her to one of her Friends who lodged hard by her, and all of a sudden she would have left me, to run after a man who was going a great pace before us. By good hap I did not let her go so; for every step she took she staggered, and would have certainly fell, had not I assisted her as she went along. Not being able to overtake this man, she called out to him, and desired him to let her speak to him, which presently he did with a great deal of civility: Judge, and please you Sir, of my astonishment, when I saw the Countess embracing him with a tenderness that is impossible for me to express. Ah! my dear Bronzoly, said she to him, how overjoyed am I to see you again! and what is the reason you have so long deprived me of your sight? And afterwards, turning herself towards me, Had not I reason, continued she, to assure you that Bronzoly was not dead? Dead persons have not a complexion so fresh, nor eyes so sprightly and vigorous. He to whom these indearing expressions and Caresses were addressed, understood not a syllable of all this, nor did he receive them as the Countess would have had him: To speak the truth-of it, he was in some confusion that he resembled this person in public, but he assured the Countess that she was mistaken. She affirmed that he was Mounsieur de Bronzoly, and this contestation began to be so hot and fierce, that it put the Countess into a wonderful rage. See, said she to me, this ungrateful person, who would withdraw himself from the acknowledgement he owes me, for the last assurances of my esteem for him: The hair that he wears upon his head, was it not the fairest Ornament of mine? In good earnest, Madam, said the poor man to her, I am not ungrateful of your favours, for I never have had the honour to receive any from you: this hair which I wear, I have very honestly paid for, but I will give it you with all my heart; therefore let me beseech you to permit me to go where my business calls me. I knocked at the Door of a house, where I caused the Actors of this Comedy to go in, being desirous to deprive the multitude of this divertisement; but she kept this pretended Bronzoly prisoner for at least a whole hour. During which time, I observed that the hair of his Perruque was of the colour of that which the Countess had caused to be cut off, and I thought it was impossible that it should not be the same, but that Lucia had sold it to him. I came up to him, under pretence to make him confess that he was the Demigod that the Countess looked for: I desired him by all the Loves in the world, to tell me of whom he had bought his Perruque: He told me without any Ceremonies, that it was of such a one whom he did name to me, and gave me the place where he dwelled. I told him in a few words the weakness of the Lady, and I advised him to fain himself to be Bronzoly, since she did desire it; and that it was the only means, as I saw, to reinstate him in his liberty: But yet he did not quickly obtain it, for he was forced to submit to a thousand embraces, and swear as often by Heaven, and all the Powers that are there, that he would preserve for her an inviolable fidelity: She gave him a Watch of a considerable value, to take notice of the hours of his absence: He assured her, that he would give himself the Honour to see her every day; and so at last was delivered from his Captivity, after he had promised to me his Friendship, of which she told him I was not unworthy. Madam de Bevilaqua returned to her own house, where I left her with her head brimgfull of Mounsieur de Bronzoly.  
I heard that she had sent to all her Acquaintance the news of his Arrival, and that she had promised them to bring him to their houses the next day. In the mean time I learned, that the Woman had sold her Mistress' hair to that man whom the false Bronzoly had named to me. I was resolved to reproach her for her malice, which she took with so many signs of Repentance, that I promised her not to speak any farther of it. I was the greatest Person in the House, having gained to me the Servants; and if any would have got any thing from the Countess, it was always from my Oratory and solicitation. The Presents I received were so frequent, that I might say, she loaded me with them; for there did not slip a day wherein she did not make me some considerable ones. Lucia was afraid that I would reveal the secret of the Hair: Hippolyta could not, without a deadly affliction, see me so high in the esteem of his Wife, and both of them hated me alike mortally, which set them a plotting how to ruin me in the heart of the Countess; but they were both of one mind as to this, that it was indispensably necessary to hook Mounsieur de Bronzoly into their design, and to make him serve as a pretence to the destroying of our Friendship. That they might happily succeed, the perfidious Lacia entered one day almost frightened out of her Wits into her Mistress' Chamber, and told her, that she came from having the greatest fear upon her as ever she had in her life; that she had met Mounsieur de Bronzoly, who was coming to visit her, that I had forced him to draw his Sword out, and that I ran at him with such a violence, that if there had not come a Miracle from Heaven to his succour, he would without all peradventure have been killed in this Encounter.  
The Countess clearly swooned away at this discourse of Lucia's, and by accident the Count de Santiniany and I came in, whilst they were taken up in getting her to come to herself. As I had the freedom to go to her house at what hours I would, I performed the duties of the house to Mounsieur le Count de Santiniany, and we entered into her Chamber as she began to be pretty well. I was very busy to render her some service, but she rudely thrust me from her, and looked upon me with eyes so full of fury and indignation, that I was surprised at it. I demanded of Lucia the reason of it, who condemned me for the astonishment I appeared to be in at the alienation of her Mistress' mind: She imagined that you were about to Assasinate Mounsieur de Bronzoly, she would have me affirm that I was present at it; and this melancholy Fancy passes so currently for a truth in her Opinion, that you will find it a hard matter to disabuse her of it. The while I was speaking to this Woman, the Countess recovered again her strength, and her speech. Ah! Perfidious Wretch as you are, said she to me, have I had so great a kindness for you then, as to see myself wounded in the most sensible place of my heart, to set upon Mounsieur de Bronzoly as he was coming to see me, to draw upon him, and to force Heaven to work a Miracle to rescue him from your fury: Oh baseness! is it thus that you have received the obliging offers that he made you of his particular Friendship? Go, ungrateful man, you are unworthy that he ever should give it you again, or that I should conserve that kindness for you, which I did honour you withal; go, withdraw, and deliver yourself, if you can, from my just vengeance, and never offer more to appear in my sight. The excess of her choler had almost suffocated the Countess, and they were fain to have recourse to their Remedies to fetch her to life again. Mounsieur the Count advised me to retire, but I was of Opinion that I ought to make some discoveries of my Innocence to a person from whom I had received such signal instances of affection and kindness, though I knew very well, I should expose myself by it to the greatest outrages that it was possible for her fury to inspire her with. She came to herself the second time, and was more enraged, by far, than she was before: And what, cried she, as she saw me, will you take away my life from me, after that you had a mind to rob me of that which only can make me to love it: I went near her to begin my Justification; and without ever considering that at that time she was uncapable of reason, I told her all that was possible for me to dissuade her from that Opinion, but nothing would do to prove my Innocence to her; my sight exasperated her, my discourse invigorated her resentment; so that I was forced to give over, and let the storm hold, till it grew calm of it self, Mounsieur the Count told me, that she ofttimes laid the Foundation of great kindnesses and Friendship, which still broke off all to pieces by her violent choler and passion, and that I was a happy man to come off so well and cheap. Mounsieur Hippolyta, and the crafty Lucia told me, as I was going away, that this impression was like eternally to abide upon her spirit; and that when once her Fancy was strongly prepossessed, it was impossible to be changed. Gratitude did work upon me the effect of Love: I was extreme melancholy so to be separated from a person to whom I was really so much obliged; and without ever quarrelling at the strangeness of her humour, I every now and then accused myself as guilty, at-least in not having discreetly enough managed her frailty. I retired with the Count de Santiniany, and all night made a thousand reflections upon the odness and extravagancy of this adventure. In vain did I write soft and amorous Letters, in vain did I find myself at the places of Devotion, where I thought to have had a sight of the Countess: Mounsieur Hippolyta, and Lucia, had so strongly prepossessed her mind to my disadvantage, that I could never meet her more in any place. I learned from one of the Servants of the Countess, all this whole intrigue which Mounsieur Hippolyta and Lucia made use of to destroy me in her favour: But seeing I had nothing to reproach me upon the account of ingratitude, I took order for my departure: and after I had taken leave of Mounsieur le Duke de Savoy, and of those persons to whom I had the honour to be known, I parted from Turin, and came back to Amboise, where I arrived in a short time after the King.   
Maisiere having thus concluded his discourse, Mounsieur d' Alenson, and Madam his Wife assured him, that the History had extremely diverted them. As it grew to be somewhat late, they retired to the Castle, where they were no sooner come, but news was brought, that a Courier demanded to present to Mounsieu le Duc some Letters coming from the Marshal de Gie. The time he took up in reading of them, Madamoiselle d' Alenson went to her Apartment, where she desired to be alone, to read the Letter that the Count de Dunois had written to her, and sent by Maisiere; and which he had put, by her order, into the hands of Rieux: if it did not contain these very words, I am sure it did not much vary from them.  
The Letter of the Count de Dunois to Madamoiselle d' Alenson.  
I Must acknowledge, Mademoiselle, that your Esteem and Friendship is so highly valuable, that I ought not to pretend to Merit it; and that my Enemies have reason to envy it me, but you are just to have given some belief to their Artifices. I might have been deceived with them as well as you, if my Love and my Respect had not defended you against all probabilities. Let me complain then of the easiness with which you have condemned me without giving me leave to plead for myself: not but that I am assured I could justify myself; but, alas! Madamoiselle, who will assure me that absence has not banished me from your heart? It produces in me such cruel effects, as that the consequence of it will, I fear, prove fatal to me, if you at least are not so mereiful, as to assure me that you are concerned at the affliction it causes to me. I have entrusted this Letter with Maisiere, under very powerful assurances of his Fidelity, and it is from him, Mademoiselle, that I beg of you by all that you count dear in the World, to learn that which may justify me, and give me a place again in your, favours.  
What Maisiere had told the Princess, had begun already to disabuse her, and the Letter of the Counts did completely re-establish the former affection in her Breast. But she did only change her torment; for the rigours of absence took up the place of her Jealousies and Disquiets, which had most sadly handled her ever since that she had suspected the Count de Dunois of infidelity. Her curiosity to know what the Marshal had sent to the Duke her Father, made her quickly return to her Mother, who had a most tender love for her: This good Lady told her, that the Count de Dunois was out of favour, for having challenged the Marshal de Gié in the Anti chamber of the King, that the Queen used all her endeavours for the re-establishment of that Prince, and that he was retired to his Lands in Normandy, till such time as it was allowed him to return. The retreat of the Count de Dunois, added the Duchess, gives the Duke a great mistrust, that he will some way or other endeavour to see you, or lay the Foundation of some correspondence with you. As to the Treaty of Milau, pursued Madam d' Alenson, the Marshal promises that it will be concluded within a Mouth at farthest. The Princess was much surprised to hear the Count was out of favour, but she could not but rejoice to know that he was in a place which made him be still the more suspected. Moreover, she had the pleasure of seeing that Madam her Mother was in the same apprehensions with her, that her Marriage with the Duke of Milan would succeed: So that the Princess watching her time to make a complete Conquest over her heart, told her all that her respect and her affection could inspire her with, in protesting to her, that she should die with grief, if she was taken out of her sight but for one day.  
The tenderhearted Lady could not answer this discourse of hers, she was in such a Flood of tears at it; which furnished the Princess with an occasion of telling her such things that her Modesty and fearfulness always had made her keep secret and private. The Confession she made to her Mother of the Esteem she had for the Prince de Dunois, did not surprise her so much as the audacious confidence of the Marshal, that he should have dared to declare unto her his passion. She blamed her Daughter for not having complained of it; but she did excuse herself as well as she could, in telling her, that her Father was too much incensed, to be capable of hearing any Reason which might be to her Justification: Madam d' Alenson promised her to acquaint him of it, and that far from opposing the affection that she bore to that Prince, she would defend it for the future. The Princess did not nevertheless think it her Duty to declare the true cause of the stay that Maisiere made at Alenson; but it was well enough for that time, that she had brought her Mother to that point which she had so long desired to do. And from that time Madamoiselle d' Alenson reassumed her natural briskness, and pleasant humour: These happy fore intelligences reestablisht in her heart the tranquillity and cheerfulness that her Jealousy had banished from her ever since her departure from Amboise. During that time in which Mademoiselle d' Alenson informed herself of the Exile of the Count, Maisiere on his part, received his news by an intelligence that he had in Town. He told this expert Agent, that he was in one of his Farms, not distant from thence above two hours riding, and ordered him to go to him, and take all possible care, not to give any cause of suspicion that his absence might peradventure beget in the Duke's head, who of himself was very mistrustful. He received also a Letter for Madamoiselle d' Alenson, in which the Count confirmed to her the assurances of his Love, and desired her through pity to give him one testimony of her affection to comfort him in his absence, not doubting but that she was recovered from the suspicions that she had taken up of his Fidelity. The Princess could scarcely resolve with herself to make him an answer; but at last she writ this.  
The Letter of Madamoiselle d' Alenson to the Count de Dunois.  
I Have always studied to love you Innocent, and I could never hate you, though I thought you were guilty: therefore you may imagine, that I easily credited what Maisiere told me for your justification. I do repent then of my unjust doubts; and if that is not sufficient to satisfy you, I permit you to hope, that I will very highly prise the troubles which they have made you suffer.  
Maisiere was very much satisfied that he had got such a happy effect in his Negotiation; and without ever attributing the success of it unto Love, he gave to himself all the glory of it. Madamoiselle d' Alenson told him, that he might assure the Count, that Madam the Duchess would not be any longer his Enemy in it, but that she began to act mighty strongly in his favour. The Princess then demanded of him how he meant to carry it, that so his Journey should not be suspected; but Maisiere referred it to her prudence, to instruct him in the manner of his Conduct. He departed the same day to find out the Count de Dunois, from whom he received a thousand manifestations of kindness and affection; and Maisiere, to make himself deserve them, presented him with Madamoiselle d' Alenson's Letter. He could with much ado allow the Prince a liberty to read it: You see Sir, said he to him, that the Princess is happily delivered from her Error: It ought to suffice you, that there is not the least impression of it left in her mind; and without entering into the particulars of the manner, which I took to disabuse her, or trifle away this precious time in unprofitable discourses, pray be pleased to instruct me in the occasion of your retreat from Court, and of your controversy with the Marshal de Gié. Before I enter into this Relation, answered the Prince, you must tell me somewhat from the Princess, what are her Sentiments for me, and whether I ought not to hope that I may see her during this her Exile, and mine; if it be permitted me, answered Maisiere, to judge of her heart by appearances, you have a great deal of reason to be satisfied in it, and I do not think that the hope of seeing her should be forbidden you, but in like manner, I do not think that you ought to lay much stress upon a hope that is so doubtful. The Princess possibly may not be against it in her mind, but in all likelihood she will not consent to a secret interview; and it must be from some accident, or from some unthought-of hazard that you ought to expect this good Fortune: but to get it you, I shall be ready to contribute all my care and prudence. But Sir, because I have but a short time to tarry with you, pray be pleased to tell me what I ought to say to the Princess concerning those things that have happened to you. When you parted from Amboise, replied the Count, the Marshal was sick, and was many days unseen; but as he began to be so well as to walk about, the Queen's turn was come to fall ill, which indisposition would not permit her to stir out of her Chamber, nor to think upon any thing besides her recovery. As for the Marshal, he had rather a little hazard his health, than leave me by his absence the liberty of entertaining the King, and to act with my Friends for the advancement of my affairs, and for the ruin of his designs. One day as I went out of the King's Closet, where I had left him in a very kind and favourable humour, I met with the Marshal in the Antichamber, who was receiving there the Compliments of all the Court for the return of his health: and then after, they were discoursing of the preparations that were a making ready for the War of Italy. Some one was proposing the difficulty of the Army's passage: to which the Majesty's eschal bluntly answered, that he had provided for that. Your prudence, said I to him, most judiciously provides for every thing that may any ways be opposing to my designs: but your Modesty is extreme, to rob you of the advantage which you ought to carry away from so glorious a Negotiation. I seek no other, replied the Marshal, but to serve my King: That is the least, said I to him again, that appears to us: It is, answered he me, the only motive of all the actions of my life. Without examining your intention, said I to him, I will still commend you, when you shall labour-with success; but do it so then, as not to make me serve as a Victim for your Zeal; for setting the service of the King aside, I can easily make you distinguish my interests from yours. As I have non: that are common to us, replied the Marshal to me, I know not what distinction I can put between them. Put one at least between yourself and me, replied I, and seriously bethink yourself of the distance that parts us; for I tell you once, that when ever you would destroy me in the King's favour, to establish yourself therein, I shall bring such an obstacle to oppose it, as shall not be very easy for you to conquer. A valiant man that does his duty, meets with none that can put him out of his way, answered the Marshal. A valiant man, replied I, would not go in such a one as you do. Ah! Sir, interrupted the Marshal, I have never any thing that can despoil me of that Title; and it is upon that only which I value myself to be equal with all those whose Birth have given them a place above me. The respect I have to the place where I am, replied I to him, does hinder me from making you know, that there cannot be any equality between us, and I should be ashamed— The Marquis de la Trimoville; and some others of my Friends, made the Marshal retire; which he could not agree to, but with a great deal of difficulty. A little while after the King came out of his Closet to go to the Queen, where none followed him, by reason of her sickness. I was immediately surrounded by all those that were interressed in my concerns, to offer me their services, for which I returned them my thanks. As the King was coming out from the Queen's Chamber, the Marshal joined with him, and laid open his cause so subtly to him, that it was impossible to disabuse him, but that I was to blame, and it was in vain for any to undertake my Justification: All the grace that I received from the King in this occasion was, that he did not command me to absent from Court: but the Marquis de la Trimoville, Montsaureau, and some others of my Friends, counselled me to forbear coming thither for some time. They would have followed me in my retreat, if I had not judged it more necessary that they should be near the King for the obtaining of my return, and preventing the Mareschals further ingratiating himself in the King's esteem. I left to Mounsieur de la Trimoville the care of improving the Queen's affection, and parted from Amboise very much incensed at the Marshal; and, for I may say it, but ill paid.  
But the Marquis de la Trimoville made me understand, that what the Marshal did, being strengthened upon arguments that were profitable for the State, I should not have took that pretence to have quarrelled with him; and that I had reason to be content in my disgrace, with the respect the King had not to make it more unpleasing. As soon as I arrived, my first care was to inform myself by you of my Princess, and of the condition I was in with her. You were but in a very ill one there, answered Maisiere, and Madamoiselle de Rieux, and myself, had a great difficulty to convince her of the error she had conceived. After that, the Count put a thousand questions to Maisiere, who told him all that he thought might any ways contribute to his repose. The good inclinations of Madam d' Alenson, and the tender affections of the Princess her Daughter, did very much add to it. The night being already so far spent, as that the day began to appear, Maisiere urged the Count to dismiss him: He being not in a convenient place to write, did commit to this faithful Agent all that his Love could inspire him with, and desired him to make use of all his insinuations, to persuade the Princess to grant him a private Audience. Maisiere not presuming to flatter himself with the accomplishing so difficult an Enterprise, would not promise it to the Count, but assured him, that he would lay out the utmost of his abilities to procure it. He went away from the Prince with no small disturbance, for it was broad daylight, and though he was sufficiently disguised, he was extremely afraid lest he should be discovered. He came back to Alenson, with his heart up at his mouth all the way, through the fear that had possessed him, when he met with an Encounter that put him into the greatest plunge that ever he was in in his life; and it was within a mile and a half of the Town: He had already quitted his Horse, and was disposing himself to go the rest of his way on foot, when at the turning of a way that led up to the Duke's house, he saw the Duke, with all his little Court and attendance, in chase for the Wild Boar, who were already got so near him, as that he could by no manner in the world escape being seen, and met with: Now it was that Maisiere had need of all those witty turns, that he knew so ingeniously how to make use of. He reposed himself a little on his disguise; but as it is an ordinary thing for Hunters to question all Passengers, he feared, and that with reason, that he should be asked something; and being obliged to speak, his voice would betray him. He had recourse to a resolution that was very singular; for it happened that part of the Company having taken a false tract in the Wood, they were divided and broken; so that some of the Duke d' Alenson's Retinue asked Maisiere, if he had not met them. At the first Interrogation he answered nothing, no more than he did at the second, only made a sign that he was dumb, and so made I do not know how many such extorted faces as those do that are so, to express the desire that he had to speak, which abundantly procured to him the charitable benevolences of the Duke. Maisiere thought he was now delivered from that danger, when a little while after he met with the Duchess, and the Princess, who came up to him as fast as her Horse could gallop, and demanded of him if he had not met with Mounsieur the Duke. He used the same stratagem to her as he had done to her Father, he feigned himself dumb, and past for such in the Opinion of all those that saw him: At last he got to the Town, and to his Correspondents house, that he had in it; he understood that the Duke had been in great Quest for him, to follow him to the Chase of a Wild Boar of a prodigious bigness; that a vast number of people were gone along with him, and only he was wanting at the Divertisement. He was told by this man what excuse he was fain to make for him; I said, replied he to him, that you found yourself very much out of order last night, and that I had kept you with me, and that you not having slept a wink all the night long, I was very loath to disturb you, being newly fallen into (as I thought) a sound nap, not knowing how much prejudice I might do you by it, or how much good you might get, if it please God to give you a sweet and continued repose. Immediately Maisiere changed his apparel, and happily met with a horse, and set forward with such violence, that in a short time he came to the place where they set their Toils. The Duke accused him of sluggishness, and Madamoiselle d' Alenson of being too neat and finnical, and there was scarce any body there that had not some such quarrel with him, for being the last at a Divertisement, to which almost all the World had run with precipitation. Maugre the false Prognostics of the Hunters, they took the Wild Boar, and returned to Alenson: but the Princess could not get any discourse from Maisiere; she only observed his eyes, the fear she was in that by his not being found, when the Duke had made such a search for him, there should come into the head of that suspicious Prince some Idea of the truth; but when the time came of his conversing with her, he did so pathetically discover his fear to her, that Madamoiselle d' Alenson thought she had as much of it as she had had: Tell me, said she to him, how you parted from hence, and in what place you met with Mounsieur le Count de Dunois: As soon as I had left you, replied Maisiere, I went into the Town to one of my Acquaintance, where I had habits of several fashions; I took one of them, with which I might be easily taken for a Peasant, I hide my hair after the best manner I could, and went all through the Town, and the Suburbs on foot, to a little Village which is not very far from it, where I found him who had brought me news of Mounsieur the Count, and this Man waited me with a Horse, on which I made all the hast I could, to arrive at a place which was a great way distant from any Road, it being a solitary Retreat of a Gentleman's, where I embraced Mounsiour the Count), and where I learned of him what you now desire to know. Maisiere then up and told Madamoiselle d' Alenson all that which had happened to him in his Journey; he acquitted himself extraordinarily well in persuading her of the Count's Passion, and she was very much pleased-with his Address: But when he came to propose to her the Interview that the Prince so much desired, it was not in his power to obtain it: What, Maisiere, said she to him, would you engage me to suffer anew what I have suffered ever since the unfortunate day (or rather night) of the false Rendezvous? Do not you deceive yourself there, Madamoiselle, replied Maisiere, we are not at Amboise; there are none here in conspiracy to betray you, and there are none in the world but a Jealous Marshal de Gié, and a Revengeful Madam the Coming: I own it, said the Princess, but Mounsieur le Due d' Alenson is to be feared every where equally, he alone is more to be dreaded, than all the world together, and I am fully determined not to commit myself to a second misfortune, after I have had such cruel afflictions by the former; and Maisiere could not obtain one from her, notwithstanding he used all the Oratory he was capable of. He was in hopes to get her to it in time, and many days past, in which the Count, and Madamoiselle d' Alenson, writ to one another with all the passionate tenderness imaginable, and made it their study for to sweeten the rigour of that absence by a Commerce which they saw established betwixt them: this was enough to free the Count from Desperation, though it was too little to render him happy. Maisiere was no better satisfied than he, and he ought to do something more to fill up those Intentions; for he desired that the Prince should have a particular conversation with the Princess by his procurement and Mediation; and this design, for some days together, took up his whole thoughts; but at last he found out this invention: One Evening he told the Princess, that he had seen at his Friend's house a man that was admirable in the knowledge of things that should hereafter come to pass: He persuaded her to consult him, and assured her that she would be very much satisfied with it. As the Duke and Duchess were declared Enemies to this Science, and to those that made Profession of it, there was a great deal of consideration to be taken how this ginger was to be seen, without having any notice taken of it: but Rieux, to whom Maisiere had communicated the trick that he was resolved to put upon the Princess, did find out a way for it, which was to have him sent to the Woman's house, who was Wife to the Captain of the Castle, an intimate Crony of hers, and who besides had a great Curiosity upon her to know, whether she should survive her Husband who was very Jealous, and whom she loved not for it (whether she deserved to have him so, I shall not concern myself, because it does not contribute to the making up of my story) This Woman was of one of the best dispositions in the world (a shrewd sign that she could the less withstand the batteries that were made against her, as it is likely she had some, because she was very well as to handsomeness) and there was only wanting the Captain's absence to accomplish their design, as to that part; but Heaven, which began to smile upon the designs of the Count, caused the Duke, who had a mind to go to Argentan, to see a stately house that he was building there, to carry with him the Captain of the Castle, being very notable and exquisite in Architecture. Maisiere acquainted the Count with it, and desired him to come the next day, a little after the night was shut in, to his Friends, where he would wait him to inform him what personage he must represent: In the mean time he prepared the Captain's Wife to receive the ginger into her house, and told his Friend what he judged was necessary, not to make him suspect the truth of the matter, the Count arrived, and Maisiere told him the stratagem he would use to procure him a conversation with the Princess: He took along with him a habit that was convenient enough for the person he was going to represent. What cannot Love do in a Breast that is strongly possessed with it! This Prince, whose Eminent Quality saw very few superior to him, and who by his Noble and generous Mien, had so much advantage over all men of his Age, the Prince, I say, whose Heroic Qualities raised him yet above all that his good Mien and Birth promised of him, this Prince quitted himself of his Eminence, to take upon him a Figure so distant, as it was inferior to his own; in this condition he was received by the Wife of the Captain, with one Gentleman only, who went for one of his near Friends. This Dame was a great piece of a conceit of Province, and a little given to the vanity common to the most of her Sex, Gossipping; she had read all the Romances of her time, and could never speak, but it must be upon some of the amorous or tragical adventures she had met with in them: She pretended to give the Count a full discovery of the delicateness of her Wit, and gave him a History of some of the Women in the Town, and from thence insensibly fell upon the discourse of the Stars, and their influences. Maisiere gave her a signal that it was not time to discover her Curiosity, but she had not the talon to conceal it, and the Count found that he should be harrassed by her: For he was somewhat conscientious how he flattered the weakness of that poor Woman. Maisiere had acquainted the Princess that the ginger was arrived, and she happened to come in very opportunely to interrupt the Captain's Wife, who had already written down the day and hour of her Birth, to make him draw the Figure, and resolve those Questions that were as impertinent as he perceived her troublesome. There was very little light in the Chamber, and the ginger was put in a place that was most dark and obscure, that so Madamoiselle d' Alenson might come very near him before she could make any discovery who he was. Maisiere foreseeing well the effect that this surprise would produce in the spirit of the Princess, had handsomely got the Captain's Wife into a Gallery, to give the Princess greater liberty to entertain the ginger, and satisfied himself in leaving de Rieux, and the Gentleman, in that where the Prince and Princess were; the precaution of Maisiere was not unprofitable, when she knew the ginger, and was going in haste to departed, but the Rieux, who coming near her, and prétending as great an astonishment as if she had known nothing at all of the whole business, helped the Princess a little out of the trouble that the sight of the Count had pur her in, and made her consider, that coming so far, it would be a means to expose the Prince to a discovery in that place, to be gone with so much speed. Madamoiselle d' Alenson fell out with Maisiere, de Rienx still stirred up her anger against him, easily persuading him, that he would not find it a difficult matter to get into her favour again; and at last the Rienx being retired, through respect, near to a Window with the Gentleman, the Count began to speak: 'Tis not Maisiere, Mademoiselle, that, said he to her, upon whom your anger ought to fall, nor is it me whom you ought to accuse for it, for the fear of displeasing you, should have triumphed over the passion I had to receive the honour of seeing you; but Mademoiselle, it is Love that has committed this Crime, and it is to that only that you ought to impute it. Let it be of You, of Maisiere, or of Love, that I have reason to complain, replied Madamoiselle d' Alenson, it is certain, that this surprise gives me a very sensible displeasure, I will not tell you, that I should have been exceeding glad to have learned your Innocence from yourself, but when I only think of the peril to which you now expose yourself, that which should have given me an extreme satisfaction, is the sole cause of an incredible affliction to me. Pray, Mademoiselle, reckon not at all upon the danger in which you conjecture I am, replied the Prince, but give me leave to count you the villainous torment that your absence has procured me, and the unjust suspicions that you have had of my fidelity. I beg your pardon, said the Princess, if I did take up with Appearances, and if I did condemn you, without giving you a hearing: but do not you refresh my memory either with my fault, or with the occasion that forced me to commit it, think only of the misfortunes that the imprudence I was guilty of in giving you an Assignation in the Park of Amboise has brought upon me. Think only, Mademoiselle, replied the Count, of of the joy that I at present do possess, of being able to consult you about my good or evil Fortune: 'Tis you only, continued he, who can acquaint me with it. as it is yourself only that can make it. If your Fortune was in my disposition, answered the Princess, you should have reason to be pleased in the share that I would make you; but the intentions of Mounsieur the Duke d' Alenson and mine, are so repugnant, that there is no likelihood that the future should prepare us a more happy destiny than this, whereof we now complain. O! what will you have me then become, said the Prince, interrupting her, if I ought to pretend to nothing more favourable in the time to come, than I can now by that which is past. 'Tis your prudence you must consult, said the Princess, upon what you ought to do; but if you would know of me what I desire, I will tell you, it may be with too much freedom, that I would that you should love me always, and that it was as easy for us to gain the good will of the Duke my Father, as it was to obtain that of the Duchess my Mother, to desire our Alliance. But Mademoiselle, replied the Count, do not deprive me at least of the comfort to hope, if you will have me live. Hope, live, and love me, replied the Princess, and after this do not beg of me a longer Audience: It ought to have ended long before, or to say better, I ought not to have granted it you at all. Well, Mademoiselle, said the Count, I will not diminish any thing of the favour you have granted to me, in obliging you by constraint to repent of it. I am going to separate myself from you, but after you have ordained me to live, to hope, and to love you; will you tell me nothing of the part I ought to pretend to in your heart? As I am not unjust, replied the Princess, I do not exact your affection, without giving you in mine all the part that my duty will permit me to afford you there. The Count gave the Princess a thousand thanks; and after that he had assured her of a Love and a Fidelity that was inviolable, and that he had obtained of her the pardon of Maisiere, she went away from him: but scarce had she gone six steps towards her Apartment, but she saw the Captain of the Castle returned, having left the Duke behind at Argenton. This speed, and this crittical time, did afford to Madamoiselle d' Alenson good store of anxious thoughts, for the Captain went but that Morning, and to see him come back the same Evening, one had reason to doubt, that there had something happened extraordinary to the Duke, or at least that he had discovered somewhat of that which passed at Alenson: In this perplexity she was at a strange loss how to carry it, for to suffer the Captain to come into the Chamber, there was no thought of, the Count being in it, and yet was there much less to intrust him with this secret: But Maisiere, who was still admirable at a dead lift, said to the Princess; Without doubt, Mademoiselle, you do not think but that the Duchess will be in an extreme impatience, when she shall hear that Mounsieur the Captain is returned; Command him, if it so please you, to give you his hand, and lead you into the Chamber of Madam your Mother. Madamoiselle d' Alenson passed with him along the same Gallery, through which she came to the Captain's house, who made her very great Compliments upon the Honour she had done to his Wife: He did very rationally imagine, that there must be some cause more than ordinary, which had brought her to make this Visit, but what it should be, he could not Divine. Whilst the Duchess asked him the reason of his so quick return, Maisiere caused the ginger to departed, without ever giving him leave to draw the poor Woman's Horoscope, nor so much as precisely to reply to the great civilities she made him: She desired him not to take it ill, and being to tarry at Alenson, she could see him at a house there, where one of her special Friends lived: The Count departed, promising her not to lose any opportunity of discoursing with her; he was got to the house where Maisier's Acquaintance dwelled, from whence he departed the next night following, and Maisiere came back in all haste to the Castle to learn how matters were carried there: All was very quiet and hush to all appearance, only Madamoiselle d' Alenson, who was not retrieved from the fear the Captains coming back had caused her. He also was a little solicitous and troublesome to know what it was that had obliged her to visit his Wife, but she could not tell what she had best to say: But Maisiere suspecting the perplexity she had upon her, took on him to help her out of it. He came into the Chamber just as the Inquisitive Husband was affirming peremptorily, that his Wife knew the reason why the Princess came thither: It belongs to me, said Maisiere to him, to instruct you in what you demand, for it is to me that you own the honour which you have received: One, whom I knew very well, passing by this way, continued he, met me in the Town, I did think that Madamoiselle d' Alenson (for, as I should have said before, I knew this Acquaintance of mine was very skilful in the Art of Prediction) might not be displeased to learn of him something of her Fortune; I imagined also that your Wife would be glad to know whether you should have any Children, and what happiness should arrive to you from the Friendship that Mon●sieur le Duc bears you: But knowing that Madam the Duchess does not approve of this curiosity, the Princess to satisfy hers made choice of your Chamber: I am mighty sorry, replied the Captain, that I did not see this honest man: I am very much troubled at it too, replied Maisiere; but he was not gone above an hour, at the outside, before you came. Well, said the Captain, and what has he said of our Fortune? That she shall be with-child, answered Maisiere, and that you will be extraordinary rich by the Liberalities of a young Princess; and that you will have but one Son that shall succeed your good Fortune. This good man was very much satisfied to hear all these fine things; the next day the Princess gave Maisiere a severe rattle for the trick he had played her the precedent day, and strictly forbid him ever again to put such another upon her. I desire with all my heart, Mademoiselle, said he to her, not to find myself in a condition to invent another stratagem, to make you see Mounfieur le Count de Dunois, and that Heaven would condemn you in a short time, so that he might never quit you more. The Princess judged it very convenient, that Maisiere should go to Argenton to see the Duke her Father: He demanded permission of the Duchess, who was glad to see him in that mind; but he was prevented by the unexpected arrival of the Prince, who commanded, as he was coming in, to get all things in a readiness to go the next day to Court. He was accompanied by the Count de Montsaureau, whom the King had sent to him, to tell him the posture in which things then flood, and to hasten his Journey to Amboise. The Duchess, and Madamoiselle d' Alenson, were extremely surprised to see Mounsieur d'Montsaureau with the Duke: They were likewise overjoyed at it, for he was a person of a consummated honesty, and who had never been in the interests that were suspected by them. Mounsieur d' Alenson left him with them, and told Madamoiselle d' Alenson his Daughter, in passing by her, that she should return to Amboise with a better humour upon her, than that she came with to Alenson. As soon as he was gone, Mounsieur Montsaureau, not to let them languish any longer in their expectation of the joyful and welcome news that he brought to them, began his discourse in this manner, addressing himself to the Duchess: Your departure, Madam, was an equal surprisal and affliction to all the Court; but the true cause of it not being known, the most part sought what should be your Inducements of it, without being able to Divine them, except a few persons who knew the secret. For my part I was not long ignorant of it, for the Queen did me the honour to declare it to me, and to tell me all she heard from the mouth of Madam the Coming. The Count de Montsaureau gave the Duchess the particulars of it, and Mademoiselle heard it over again the second time, for Maisiere had already given her account of it. After that, continued Montsaureau, the Marshal fell extremely ill, and Madam the Coming, by the Commandment of the Queen, visited him daily. She perceived that the absence did most rigorously torment him; and that not being able any longer to support it, he was resolved to employ all the Artifices imaginable to ruin the Count de Dunois in the Kings Esteem, and to make him be banished the Court; and after that, to order things so, that Madamoiselle d' Alenson should be called back again to it. The Queen was not powerful enough to persuade the King, that Love and Policy was one and the same thing with the Marshal; and the King was so possessed with his affection for the good of the Nation, that she could never compass to undeceive him of it. He desired her that she would never more speak of it to him: The Marshal being perfectly recovered of his sickness, the Count de Dunois met him in the Antichamber of the King, and gave him very smart reproaches before all the Court, and whereat the King was extraordinarily incensed. The most sincere people of the Court did not forbear addressing themselves to him, and it was with a sensible regret, that his Friends saw him go from Amboise. By ill hap the Queen was then sick, and so not in a condation to act for the Count de Dunois; so that all our arguments were useless with the King. He had nevertheless this respect for the Count, to advise his Friends only to counsel him to retire for some time, not being willing to prescribe the place of his Exile. This departure did absolutely put a consternation into all hearts, and I never in my life saw the Court so melancholy. Besides, I perceived the King did but illy bear it, and that he many times called upon this Count, without thinking that he was at such a distance to answer him. We expected some happy Revolution which your Presence would give us and which would call the Prince back, when we heard that the Milanois had renewed the Treaty of Alliance with the Emperor and Ferdinand, and that they both joined together to raise great Levies to oppose the passage of the King, upon the report that was noised about that he would return into Italy. The King had a great deal of difficulty to believe this news, but it was confirmed from so many places, that at last he had no farther room to doubt of it. He spoke of it to the Marshal de Gié, and would have him responsible for the rapture of a Treaty, of the event of which he had so often charged himself. The Marshal justified himself, by a discourse full of flourish and Eloquence: But when the King demanded of him precisely what was the Conduct that he had made use of for this Negotiation, the Marshal blundered heavily, for he could say nothing to his Majesty, which he thought would give him satisfaction. All that the Queen had told him then came fresh into his memory; but his natural clemency, and the affection he had for the Marshal, which was particular, made him yet for some time suspend his just resentment. Justify yourself, said the King to him, I would advise you, and I wish that you know how to do it: Let me be assured, that you did enter into Treaty with the Duke of Milan; what the Propositions were that you made to him, and the Reasons wherefore the Propositions did not take effect, after that I shall be content; and if there be any fault in you, I shall not impute it to the defect of your Zeal for my service, I had rather cast it upon your Imprudence, than upon your Infidelity. The Marshal would fain have persuaded the King, that what he had heard was an Imposture, and not real. It may be at another time he might have done it, but his Loyalty began then a little too much to be suspected, to suffer him to rely upon his word. Though the King did demand him, yet he made no positive answer. Being displeased then at his weak sincerity, he commanded the Captain of his Guards to go and seize the Mareschals Cabinet, and to bring it to him. I was in the Antichamber when it came by there, and I went immediately to the Queen, to whom this news was very pleasant, judging, according to all appearances, that the King was entered into some suspicion of the fidelity of the Marshal, and that he did seek to be fully cleared upon it. She assured herself of Madam the Coming to tell the truth of all she knew, when she saw a convenient time for it. In the mean time, the King had no sooner got the Cabinet into his possession, but he caused it to be opened. He found there a Model that the Marshal had drawn up to prepare their minds for the breaking off the Treaty of Milan. After that, he met with the Copy of a Letter he had writ to Sforza, in which he had proposed the Marriage of Madamoiselle d' Alenson with his Nephew; and let him know, that if he accepted of the Proposition, the conclusion of it might be deferred for some years: He desired him to quit the Party of the King of Spain, and to facilitate the passage of the Army; but so wretchedly, that it was easy to perceive that he had no desire to obtain what he seemed to solicit for. There was yet another Paper fastened to this, which was written in Characters, and where the King could understand nothing, no more than he could of many others of the same nature that fell into his hands. It was not possible for him to get out any farther explication from the Marshal, neither would the King any more look into them; this suffices, said he, to make me, know the Motives that made you act: retire into your apartment, from whence I forbidden you to stir out but by my orders. And you, continued he, turning to the Captain of the Guard, take special care that you suffer no person to speak with him. The King went alone into his Clos. set very much enraged against the Marshal: but the Queen did not give him a very long time to make his reflections upon the crime, or upon the Criminal. She made some pretence to go and to interrupt his solitude, and to speak to him of somewhat else then of the Marshal; but the King was not in a humour to begin another discourse. He made to her his complaints of the Marshal's perfidiousness, he accused himself of having been prepossessed on his behalf, and told her all that his resentment could inspire him with. For all this the Queen did very well observe that the King had still some returns that inclined him to clemency, and that if they had taken but a moderate care to excuse the Marshal, it would not possibly, have been a hard matter to get him established again. But the Queen, who had other sentiments, acquainted the King with what Madam de Coming had told her, and of which he was not overwilling to be informed; and not to leave him any room to doubt of the truth of what he had said, she shown him the letters that made a full discovery of the Love he had for Madamoiselle d' Alenson, and of the fear that he was in that she would marry the Count de Dunois, Madam de Coming added, that he had always spoken to her of the Treaty of Milan, as of a thing which he saw but very little appearance of. The King laid hold of the letters she shown him; and as he was putting them up into the Marshal's Cabinet, the Queen's Curiosity carried her to read other Papers that she found there. In the first she met with only the confirmation of his fault; in others she read some rough draughts of Letters that he had a mind to send to Madamoiselle d' Alenson,; but the last which her hand chanced to light upon being sealed, gave her a greater desire to read them. It was the Key of the Characters of Sforza's Letter, and that of the Mareschals. She made use of it to explain both the one and the other. The Marshal did propose to him to accord the Articles of the Marriage of Madamoiselle d' Alenson, with the Duke of Milan, and to demand that she might be with the Duchess Mother to the Duke, to understand the manners of the Country, and to cherish the love between the Princess and him, upon those conditions, he promised Sforza to deliver him up the troops that he commanded in his journey of Italy, and to enter with him into the party of the King his enemies. Sforza, who did argue with a more sound judgement, than the Marshal, who only acted by the maxims of his love, and never consulted his Loyalty: Sforza, I say, would not by such a proceedure, put himself out of a condition sometime or other to make his peace with the King, and prudently refused to make a particular league with a man, who without any reason quitted the Interests of the greatest King in the World, and from whom he daily received assurance of kindnesses: as also that having a design to ruin the Duke of Milan, and to possess himself of his Dukedom, the propositions of the Marshal were not at all to his purpose. I will not re-acquaint you, Madam, pursued Mountsieur de Mountsaureau, with what a strange anger the King had upon him, and with his resentment of the Mareschals Treason; it would be needless. The Queen pacified him, as much as was possible, with that sweet disposition and prudence that was so natural to her: but she counselled him to thrust from him that unworthy object of his wrath, and make him prisoner in the Castle of Tours, and to appoint him his Comissionaries, who should by due process of Law give him his punishment. Which advice immediately was put in execution. The Marshal his friends would fain have justified him; but the King imposed silence upon them, and not one of them durst speak a word more in his favour. Then the King called to him the Marquis de la Trimoville, and very obligingly told him, that as it was by his counsel that the Count de Dunois was retired from the Court, so he would make use of him to fetch the Prince back again, and made him immediately go about it. He commanded me at the same time to come and tell you this news, to dispose Mounsieur and you, Madam, to the consent to the Marriage of the Prince and Princess. Madam the Duchess was so much overjoyed to hear of this happy change, that she could scarce express herself. It is easy to imagine that Madamoiselle d' Alenson felt somewhat more sensible and touching; but her modesty being yet greater than her joy, she did so handsomely keep it to herself, that she did not make it appear so much as it might have been permitted her without any breach of virtue or civility. Maisiere could scarce refrain from going to find out the Count de Dunois, either to be the first should tell him the news, or to bear a part with him in the joy, if he knew it before he came; but Madamoiselle d' Alenson did not judge it convenient. In the mean time, the Marquis de la Trimoville, who went with all the possible speed he could, arrived at the Count's, where he could hear nothing of him, nor could he learn by any of the Servants of the house what way he had taken. He spent some hours in the pains he took of thinking on which hand he had best go that was most likely to meet with him; but the coming back of the Prince delivered him from that trouble. The Joy that he had to see Madamoiselle d' Alenson, and that he had yet the power of embracing a friend, who was so zealous and faithful in his service, made him let upon the Marquis with a Countenance that discovered all the pleasing transport imaginable: and the Marquis was resolved to overwhelm him with satisfaction in telling him what Heaven and Fortune had done for him, and what they had both done against the Marshal. He gave himself wholly to the Joy of knowing that all things did prepare for him the possession of the Princess, and that he was going to reassume that place in the King's favour, that he had formerly been happy in. His generosity notwithstanding stirred up in his heart a compassion for the disgrace of the Marshal. He might possibly have been glad to put him in a condition to make him repent of his crime; but he did not demand so complete a vengeance. Pity nevertheless gave place to the hope he had of enjoying a sole happiness which he had so long aspired to. The Sun was scarce risen, when the Count awaked the Marquis de la Trimoville, and and they both parted for Amboise. The Count's thoughts were only to make all possible diligence to come to the King, who received him with very great and sensible testimonies of Joy and affection. He made him know at last in what a manner he was offended at the perfidiousness of the Marshal. To which Mounsieur the Count did not answer like an enemy of the Mareschals, and if he did not take that care to justify him, he did not make use of that occasion to complete his ruin. After a pretty long conversation, in which he told the Count of the war he was going to undertake, of the affairs of the State, and of his most private interests; He fell upon the Marriage of the Prince with Madamoiselle d' Alenson I will, said the King to him repair the afflictions I have made you endure by the obstacles that I have brought to your happiness, and begin the chastisement of the Marshal de Gie by the end of your sufferings, and by a stab in the most sensible part of his heart: I will yet, continued the King, have you come with me to salute the Queen. To conclude, he presented the Count to her to whom she gave great assurances of her good inclination, The King moreover would, to oblige the Count de Dunois, go the next day a hunting that way by which the Duke d' Alenson must come, to the end that I may be an eye witness of the Joy and contentment you will have of seeing your Princess again. The beginning of this day had very favourable presages for the Count It was a wonderful fair time, and the chase very successful: and yet for all that it gave him a great torment; for the day was almost turned to night, when he perceived the Coaches of the Duke of Alenson. He came out of it, through respect, as far as he could ever see the King coming, who received him with a thousand demonstrations of kindness and affection. There are none but those who have already proved the rigours of absence that can perfectly express the Joy of this return. The Count de Dunois and Madamoiselle d' Alenson made a most agreeable experience of it at this meeting; and if they had not at first the liberty to express themselves of it one to the other, the delight and the satisfaction of it was more sensible in their hearts. As the departure of these illustrious persons had infinitely afflicted all the Court, their presence did bring back to them all the Joy and the pleasure they had formerly took in it. The Queen had not as yet made so much of it appear, as she testified unto Madamoiselle d' Alenson for her return, and the likelihood which she saw for the Marriage of the Princess and the Count de Dunois. The same day the King spoke of it unto the Duke d' Alenson, who received the proposition as very advantageous, and returned the Compliment of the Count with a great deal of civility and kindness that was very obliging. After the Ceremonies that were observed by the persons of this Quality, the Duke de Alenson spoke gallantly to the Count de Dunois, and begged his pardon that he had been sometime so opposite to his desire, but the diligence that he would make to satisfy them should repair the fault that he was not alone guilty of. In short he gave commands to his daughter that she should no further stifle the inclinations that he knew she had for the Count de Dunois, since that within a few days time she should be in a condition not to refuse him any testimony of it. She blushed through modesty, but yet this Order, although it was sufficiently absolute, had in it all the sweetness in the World for her; and filled the heart of the Count de Dunois with a pleasure so ravishing that it is unexpressable. The liberty he had then to make an open declaration of it, diminished nothing of the delicacy with which he resented it. Maisiere seemed yet to be more overjoyed than the Prince and the Princess, for whom all happiness and good fortune was preparing, He was so liberally recompensed on both sides, that it was almost impossible for him to desire any more of fortune. But the King, not being willing to mingle any thing of heaviness with the public Joy, instantly gave orders that they should suspend the Judgement of the Marshal de Gié, who was kept up a long time in prison, as the History does credibly inform us. As for the Marquis de la Trimoville, he on his part made his Joy glorious and splendid, by those various divertisements of his, that were as nobly invented, as they were executed and performed with magnificence: but yet those pleasures, how great and weighty soever, aught to be accounted as nothing in comparison with them, which the Count de Dunois, and Madamoisel lead Alénson completely tasted in the happy accomplishment of their passionate desires, which had been all along as lawful as they were virtuous.  
FINIS.