THE HISTORY OF MADAMOISELLE DE St, Phale, Giving a Full Account of The Miraculous Conversion Of a NOBLE French Lady And her Daughter, TO THE Reformed Religion.  
WITH The Defeat of the Intrigues of a JESUIT their Confessor.  
Translated out of French.  
LONDON. Printed by J. A. for J. Hancock, and are to be Sold by most Booksellers in London and Westminster, 1691.   

TO MADAM Gerthrude Rodd, OF WARE near EXON.  
MADAM,  
THE satisfaction you were pleased to express on the perusal of some Sheets of this History, hath emboldened me to present you with the whole. Nor could I put it into better hands than yours, who so exactly Harmonise with its i● lustrious subject, in the best par● of her Character. And if a Conformity in Dispositions, be the Groun● and Cement of ●ffection, I know no●e with whom she may found 〈◊〉 surer protection or a better Welcome than with you. I confess, Madam the Dress in which the following History is clothed, and some. Passage in it, have somewhat of the Air of a Romance, and I may possibly be censured for busying myself i● Translating, as its Author was fo● Composing a Piece of such a Nature; but as this was my Employment or rather Diversion, during an undesirable Leisure from more serious Work, so, had I not been well assured of the truth of the most material and substantial passages in it, I should never have been induced to have taken pains about it, much lesle have presumed to present you with it. It's Author is a Person that hath gotten some reputation by his Writings, which I can hardly persuade myself he would willingly Hazard, by Imposing Fictions on the World: And that Sincerity he hath discovered in his other Works (by which he hath Exposed himself, not only to the Rage of a Party, as malicious as powerful, but to the displeasure of his Friends, by that just severity and Freedom he useth in reproving their Miscarriages,) may sufficiently secure us, against the Apprehensions of Falsehood in this. The Author indeed confesseth he hath made use of Feigned Names, which he was obliged to do, because some of the Persons concerned had resolved a Journey into Erance incognito, to recover if possible somewhat of their Estates, which had been ravished from them by the unparallelled Tyranny of their King, and his bloody Counsellors the Jefuits, and of which they had chosen to make shipwreck, rather than of a good Conscience.  
Having given this account of the Piece itself, I beg the Liberty to Give you, and by you, others, an account of the Motive that Induced me to make it public in our own Language: Besides the earnest Requests of some Friends at whose desire I first translated it, the Consideration of the good Effect it had whilst in Manuscript, in opening the Hearts and Purses of many to the bounteous Relief of those poor but Generous Confessors of Christ, the French Refugies (whereof I could produce several Witnesses in this City,) hath been my chief Encouragement. If it hath the same Effect from the Press, I shall judge ●ny self abundantly recompensed for the pains I have taken in it: However this Advantage I shall have by its publication, an opportunity to declare my ardent Vows for the Blessing of God on yourself and Family, and to assure you that I am,  
Exon. Sept. 15th. 1690. MADAM, Your most Humble Servant, B. S.   

Book 〈…〉, and are to be sold by John Hanco●●●● 〈…〉 the Royal Exchange.  
EIght Bo●●●● lately published by Mr. Tho. Brooks, la●● Preacher of the Gospel at Margaret's New-Fish-str●●●● 〈◊〉  
1. Precious Remedies against Satan's Devices, or Salve for Believers and Unbelievers Sores: being a Companion for those that are in Christ, or out of Christ.  
2. Heaven on Earth: Or a serious Discourse touching a Well grounded Assurance of Man's Everlasting Happiness.  
3. The Unsearchable Richeses of Christ, held forth in 22 Sermons.  
4. Apples of Gold for Young Men and Women, or the happiness of being good betimes.  
5. A String of Pearls: or the best things reserved till last.  
6. The Mute Christian under the smarting Rod, with Sovereign Antidotes against the most miserable Exigences.  
7. The Privy Key of Heaven: or a Discourse of Closet-Prayer.  
8. A Cabinet of choice Jewels, or a Box of precious Ointment: containing special Maxims, Rules and Directions, in order to the clearing up of a Man's Interest in Christ, and his Title to all the Glory of another World.  
The Godly Man's Ark, in several Sermons. To which is added Mrs. Mo●●s Evidences for Heaven: By Ed●und Calamy, B. D●at Aldermanburic.  
Christ's Communion with his Church Militant: by Nicholas ●●o●y●●.  
Sin the Plague of Plagues: by Ralph Venning.  
A true Narrative of those two never to be forgotten Deliverances. One from the Spanish Invasion 88, the other from the Hellish Powder Plot: Nou. 5. 1605: by Mr. Sam. ●lark. To which is newly added a brief Account of the late Horrid Plot. discovered 16●8, with a Relation of other Popish Cruci●ies, here and beyond Sea.  
Short-Writing, the most Easy, Exact, Lineal and Speedy method that hath ever yet been obtained, as Thousands in the City and elsewhere, can from their own Experience te●●fie: by Theophilus Metcalf.  
Also a Book called a Schoolmaster to it, explaining all the Rules thereof.  
A Word of Advice to Saints; or a choice Drop of Honey from the Rock Christ.  
A Copy-book of the Newest and most useful Hands, with Directions for Spelling and Cyphering.  
Vennings Remains. being the Substance of many Sermons: by Mr. Ralph Venning, prepared by himself for the Press a little ●●fore hi● Death.  
Comae Bereni●is, or the hairy Comet: being a Prognostic of malignant Influences from the many Blazing Stars wand'ring in our Horizon.  
Gospel-love, Heart-purity, and the flourishing of the Righteous: being the last Sermons of that Eminent Divine Mr. Joseph Caryl.  
The Young man's Guide to Blessedness, or seasonable Directions for Youth, in their unconverted estate: by R. Maybew, Minister of the Gospel.  
Causa Dei, or an Apology for God: wherein the perpetuity of Infernal Torments is evidenced, and both his Goodness and Justice defended: Also the Nature of Punishments in general and of Infernal ones in particular displayed: by R. Burthogge.  
The Legacy of a dying Mother to her mourning Children, being the Experiences of Mrs. Susanna Bell: published by Tho Brooks.  
King James his Counterblast to Tobacco: To which is added a learned Discourse touching Tobacco, by Dr. Maynwaring: wherein men may see whether Tobacco be good for them or no.  
Strength in Weakness: being a Sermon preached at the Funeral of Mrs. Martha Brooks, late Wife to Mr. Tho. Brooks, Minister of the Gospel: to which is added some Experiences of the Grace and dealing of God, observed and gathered by a near Relation of the said Mrs. Brooks.  
A discourse of Christ's coming, and the Influence which the expectation thereof hath on all manner of Holy Conversation and Godliness. By Theophilus Gale.  
The Shepherd's Legacy, or forty Years Experience of the Wether.  
The Young Man's Conflict with, and Victory over the Devil by Faith: Or a true and perfect Relation of the Experiences of Tho. Powel, begun in the Fifteenth, and continued till the Seventeenth Year of his Age.  
Christ's certain and sudden Appearance to Judgement. By Sam. Malbon.  
A brief Description of New York, and the places thereto adjoining, with Directions and Advice to such as shall go thither, by D. Denton.  
A Cry for Labourers in God's Harvest, being a Sermon preached at the Funeral of Mr. Ralph Venning, by R. Bragge, Minister of the Gospel.  
Christian Directions, showing how to walk with God all the day long, by Tho. Gouge.  
Conscience the best Friend upon Earth, or the happy effects of keeping a good Conscience: By Henry Stubbes.  
Mr. Stubb's Directions for making peace with God, and his true last Speeches.  
Orthodox Paradoxes, Theoretical and Experimental, or a Believer clearing Truth by seeming Contradictions. With an Appendix of the Triumph of Assurance over the Law, Sin, World, Wants, etc.  
To which is added, The New Command Renewed, or Love one another. With Ten Rules for the right understanding of Scripture: by R. Venning, A. M.  
An Awakening Call from the Eternal God to the Unconvertrd, with seasonable Advice to them that are under Convictions, to prevent their miscarrying in Conversion, by Sam. Corbin, A. M.  
The Triumph of Mercy in the Chariot of Praise: a Treatise of preventing, secret and unexpected Mercies, with some mixed Reflections, by S. Lee.  
The best Friend standing at the Door, or Christ's awakening and affectionate Call, both to Professors and secure Sinners, for Entrance into the House, in several Sermons, by John Ryther.  
Israel Redux: Or, the Restauration of Irael; an Essay upon probable Grounds, that the Tartars are the Ten Tribes of Israel, by G. F. With some Scripture Evidences of their future Conversion and Establishment in their own Land; together with two Discourses on the mournful state of the Church, with a Prospect of her dawning Glory, by S. Lee.  
Beams of the Spirit, Enlivening, Enlightening, and Gladding the Soul. Imp. Jos. Caryl.  
The absolute Accountant, or London-Merchant, containing Instructions and Directions for a Methodical keeping of Merchant's Accounts, after the most exact and concise way of Debtor and Creditor. By Tho. Brown, Accountant.  
The true and only way of Concord of all the Christian Churches, the Desireableness of it, and the Detection of false dividing Terms opened: By Richard Baxter.  
A true Believers Choice and Pleasure, instanced in the Exemplary Life of Mistress Mary Cox, the late Wife of Dr. Tho. Cox: Preached for her Funeral by Richard Baxter.  
A Narrative, and Impartial Discovery of the Horrid Popish Plot; carried on for the burning and destroying the Cities of London and Westminster, with their Suburbs, &c Setting forth the several Consults, Orders, and Resolutions of the Jesuits concerning the same. And divers Depositions and Informations relating thereunto, never before printed. By Capt. William Bed●oe, lately engaged in that Horrid Design, and one of the Popish Committee for carrying on such Fires.  
A Narrative of unheard-of Popish Cruelties towards Protestants beyond Seas or, a new Account of the Bloody Spanish Inquisition. Published as a Caveat to Protestants. By M. Dugdale.  
The Plot in a Dream, or the Discoverer in masquerade, fully and truly relating the History of the present Popish Plot, from its Original to this time, with several Pictures to illustrate the Design  
The Second part of the Non-conformists Plea for Peace, being an Account of their Principles about Civil and Ecclesiastical Authority and Obedience: in 4 to. By R. Baxter.  
A Treatise of the Souls Union with Christ, wherein is declared, what this Union with Jesus Christ is, and many false grounds of Union discovered, in 8vo. by I. L.  
Gods call to England for thankfulness after Gracious deliverances, wherein is showed, that our deliverances, not Answered with Reformation, will be followed with sorest destruction, in 12. by Tho. Gouge.  
A Sermon preached Oct. ●0. at the Funeral of Mr Thomas Brooks, who departed this Life, Sept. 27. 1680. By John Reeve.   

THE HISTORY OF Madamoiselle de St. Phale.  

CHAP. I  
Gentlemen and Ladies,  
YOU may possibly promise' yourselves a great deal of Pleasure in the Account of my Life, but jest I should frustrate your Expectations, must assure you, you'll found but little thats diverting 〈◊〉 it, it being almost wholly made up of such accidents as are sad and tragical: This I thought fit to in●●rm you of, that you might not reproach me afterwards with having deceived you.  
I was born in the Duchy of Burgundy, of a Family ●at had Professed the reformed Religion for above 150 ●ears, whose Nobility was sufficiently ancient. My Fa●●ers Name was Monsieur d' Ombreval, who had been campmaster, and enjoyed many Offices, and might, 〈◊〉 may be, have been advanced to the highest, had he ●een, as many others, lesle scrupulous about Religion. ●e was generally accounted as eminent in Prudence, Wisdom and Piety, as most in France: He had performed such things as made him considerable; yet none excelled him in mildness and sweetness of Carriage in his Family. My Father had never but one Sister, for whom he had always an extraordinary love, and this Sister is styled Madam de Prosses, who is here with me; and though my Mother were still living, yet I am more obliged to my Aunt than to my Mother, as you will hereafter see.  
Love, which sometimes delights to show its force on the wisest spirits, made my Father himself do what he would certainly have disliked in another. For he fell in love with my Mother, who was in her time one of the handsomest and compleatest Ladies in all the Province, and was besides of a very Noble and Rich Family; but that would have made no Impression at all on him, had his Mind been free. At first he only loved out of Gallantry, that he might not differ from all other young men, who have always, some Inclination; but at length his Love got such a victory over him, and made him so Earnest in his suit, that he engaged my mother's affections towards him, who heard him universally commended, and their Marriage was discoursed of.  
Love hath indeed in it somewhat very wondered, it finds Expedients for all things, and easily surmounts the greatest difficulties. My Father was always, even to his Death, so resolute an Huguenot, as that the Flames were not capable of altering him. My Mother was a most obstinate Catholic: Both were so far from embracing each others Religion, as that they would feign have had each other take up their own. But at length some Mediators (whereof Love was the chief) made up an Agreement between them on these three Conditions, viz. That they should be married first by a Priest, and afterwards by a Minister. That they should never discourse of Religion. And, That of the Children they should have, the Sons should be educated in the Religion of their Father, and the Daughters in that of their Mother. All these Articles were very punctually observed on both sides, especially that of silence in matters of Religion, out of prudence to prevent Contentions ●nd Heats, each knowing the other to be resolved ●n that Point.  
The first Year of this Marriage gave Birth to the only Brother which I have, and the fourth to me; There were other Children, but God was pleased to ●ake them all away in their Infancy. My Father ●ook a great deal of Care in the Education of my ●rother, especially to get him well Principled in Matters of Religion, and to this end got him a Tu●or, who instilled the Principles of Religion into him 〈◊〉 he learned to read and writ. My Mother was as ●●reful of me, to get me educated in the Romish Religion, and provided a Governess for me that was an ●●complished Hypocrite. My Brother from his Infancy discovered a great aversion and abhorrence of ●e Romish Religion, and although he most tender●● loved me, could not sometimes forbear calling me ●●tle Idolater: Once he got into my Closet, where 〈◊〉 had divers Pictures of Saints of both Sexes, on ●●ich he made Beards, Asses-Ears, and Horns; some●●es he would play a thousand tricks with my Be●ds, ●owing them from one end of the Chamber to the ●●er, and making such sport with them, as had the ●ther Maimbourge seen it, he would certainly have ●●ed out, See how the Spirit of Heresy shows itself 〈◊〉 his Childhood: I might quarrel with him as long 〈◊〉 I would, but were sure to get nothing by it, till length he was surprised by my Mother in the dis●●se of a Jesuit, who so dealt with him as that he ●●●st not come thither for three days after. In a ●●●rd, one would have thought that how young so●●●r he was, he had a design to tender the Catho●●● Religion contemptible to me.  
These first Follies of his Childhood being over, he ●●fited so well by the Instructions he had received, ●●t at twelve Years of Age he could read, writ, speak the Latin and the Germane Tongues indifferently well, so that my Father being fully satisfied with his Inclinations, and his Tutor's love, resolved to sand the● both to Saumur, with a Servant to wait on them, when I shall leave him to speak of what concerned my sel● My Mother educated me exactly according to the Prescriptions of her Confessor; I shall not relate all tha● was daily done and said to me, nor all the Arge●ments nor stories that they made use of to prejudi● me against Calvinism. My Mother often entertaine● thoughts of placing me in a Convent, Paying for m● Table; but knowing that I could learn nothing the● suitable to my Quality, she laid that Design aside.  
I shall not spend more time in giving an accou●● of what befell me till I came to the Age of seventee● when I attained the Stature I now have, and were very passable Catholic. 'Tis true, I began to ha●● many Doubts, which I durst not reveal to any, bo●● about the Eucharist, the Merit of Works, Purgator and Auricular Confession, and though I did all th●● I could, I found it impossible to submit either to th● Authority of the Church or of the Curate; and 〈◊〉 Mother knowing me to be somewhat curious, a●● fearing lest my Curiosity should lead me to kno●● more than was convenient for those of the Rom● Religion, thought it necessary to found some Employment for my spirit, she therefore caused me to lea●● to Dance, Sing, Play on the Claricords or Harpsic●●● and to draw; made me read Romances, Comedy and Poetry, and suffered me to wait on her in all 〈◊〉 Visits she made to such as were most eminent 〈◊〉 quality near our House. After this my Mother ga●● me leave to take a Journey to Paris, my Father consenting to it, to see all the Curiosities that the Co●●●● afforded. I returned with my Aunt and Cousins ab●●● the beginning of Winter, and my Mother seeing have a more free and genteel Carriage than befo●● loved me the more, and made me her Confident 〈◊〉 matter sufficiently pleasant.  
My Brother having been six Years at Saumur, where ●e had made a good Progress in the Languages and Philosophy, my Father resolved to sand him to another Place, where he might learn to ride the great ●orse, and be exercised in fears of Arms, and also ●et an insight into the Mathematics: My Brother become accomplished in these things in six Months, ●fter which he desired leave of my Father to go in●o the Army; who knowing that should he deny it, ●e was of sufficient Years to take it himself, granted ●is desire; and having given him Money for his Expenses, sent him away with one of our near Relati●●ns, who gave him many good Instructions, which ●●y Brother so exactly followed, that in a short time ●e was accounted by the whole Army to be a Man ●f Courage, Virtue, Honour and Merit.  
My Father had constant News brought him of the ●eputation my Brother had gotten, and of the offers ●hat were made him of an Office, very honourable or a young Man, on condition he would change his religion, which my Brother generously refused; but ●ur Relation doubting lest he might be at last overcome by the Violence of the Temptation, sent him ●ack to his Father. Thus my Brother returned home ●fter ten Years absence, and you may easily guests at ●e joy and satisfaction we had to see him, adorned ●●th the many excellent and genteel Qualities he had required. My Brother also discovered an obliging 〈◊〉 prize to found me what I were, and we soon renewed that affection to which the nearness of our ●lood obliged us, which was much increased by a ●●utual esteem we had for each other.  
On the other hand my Brother was very exact in is Carriage towards my Mother, which was full of ●●●gular respect and tenderness. 'Twas here that I ●ound that the Love of Mothers is more towards their ●ons than their Daughters, for my Mother could hardly endure my Brother out of her sight, but conversed with him with the greatest familiarity and freedom, yet durst not speak one word to him about Religion, for fear of violating the agreement made with my Father, and of encouraging him by her example, to do the same thing to me; yet this extorted some sighs from her, as I observed when I was with her about 15 days after my Brother's return, who at that time humbly withdrew.  
The Familiarity of my Mother with me, emboldened me to demand the Cause of her Affliction: I am, said she, one of the happiest Women in France, I only want one thing, which yet is not impossible, but I dare not hope it. Madam, replied I, this is so mysterious a Riddle, that I can't comprehend it. I believe so, said she, but I●ll tell you its meaning: You know how tenderly I love your Father and Brother, and indeed their excellent Qualities command the Affections both of a Wife and of a Mother; but when I think that they are both Heretics, and have no Part in the Catholic Church, out of which there's no Salvation, and that if they die in the Estate in which they are, they are Eternally damned, it breaks my very Heart, and my Compassion is augmented by the Consideration of their Merit and Virtue, so that I could wish them l●ss good than they are, that I might be dispensed with from loving them as I do, for than the Affliction would be lesle sensible and grievous to me: As for your Father, the Assurance that I have of his Obstinacy in his Error, doth in a great measure silence my Complaints, but is there no way left to draw your Brother, who is yet young and tender, out of this Gulf in which he is? And a little after, fixing her Eyes earnestly upon me, Will not you, said she, assist me in this matter, and speak to your Brother? for neither your Father nor I dare violate the solemn Oaths that we have made, though my Confessor hath often Promised me a Dispensation. But Mother, said I, my Brother is Learned, and should I discourse with him about this, we must come to a Dispute, in which he would soon put me to a nonplus. Enter not my Daughter, said she, into Dispute with him, but only Propose to him some Worldly Advantages, and you'll see what he'll say to you.  
Though my Mother was a Woman of spirit, yet she did not penetrate into the Consequences of this business, which were yet visible enough, for by my urging my Brother to change his Religion, I gave him opportunity to make me the same Proposals, and he had this advantage over me, in that he could speak what he knew, (for he had diligently studied both Religions) which I could not do, because they had taken more Pains to fill my mind with Prejudices against the Hugonots, than to fortify me with solid and powerful Reasons against them. The same day we had a singular Conversation, for my Brother who conversed familiarly only with my Mother and myself, spent whole days in our Company, and if I were in my Chamber, would come thither to seek me, where we either played at Chess, or discoursed on variety of Subjects; for, as for my Father, his Gravity and Seriousness was such, that we durst not familiarly Converse with him. My Brother found me reading over my Horary; What are you doing Sister? said he, I am, (answered I,) Praying God for your Conversion: That's well done indeed, (replied he) there's a good Sister that takes Care of her Brother's Salvation; but, added he, with a kind of mocking smile, In what Language is it, good now, that you Pray? Is it in Latin or in French? and taking my Book out of my Hand, he found that all my Prayers were indeed in Latin; whereupon he said, I doubt not Sister but you speak Latin, since you read it; and f●ll a speaking of what seemed to me perfect Gibberish: Despite and Shame hindered me from returning any Answer, for I must Confess, that this Praying in an unknown Tongue, was the first abuse I took notice of in the Roman Communion, and ●o●d never get myself hearty to approve of it.  
I would (sa●d I) pray God for your Conversion, but I know that 'twould be an offence to the Divi●e Majesty to pray for a Scoffer, for which reason I forbear it as a great sin. My Brother saw well enough that I was displeased with him, yet this did not hinder him from proceeding in his jo●●●e manner. My dear Sister, said he, I am obliged to you for your Care of my Salvation, yet beware lest while you imagine you are endeavouring the Salvation of my Soul, you do not ruin it; ●●t I hope God will not hear such Requests, as should they be granted, would prove fatal to me. B●● Sister, continued he, that I may not for my part t●●● my s●lf defective in Charity, I earnestly beg God that he would to●ch your Heart, that you ●●y not longer persist in the Superstitions in which you have been bred. He spoke these last words with so much seriousness, that I had no Power to re●●●, ●●r did he give me time to do it.  
I mu●t, added he, speak freely to you, as to a Sister whom I dearly love: What do you mean in Praying to God in Latin? think you that he is better pleased with this Language than with your own Mother Tongue? Why was it that our Saviour caused his Holy Spirit to descend on his Apostles in the form of Tongues of Fire, but to show us that his Name might be invoked, and his Praise sung in all Languages? what than makes your doting Doctors prescribe us a Model of Prayers, and a form of Worship all in Latin? certainly the Jews have better reason than the Catholics, for they say their Prayers in Hebrew, which is the Holy Tongue which God himself used; but as for the Latin; we have no reason in the World to believe it better pleasing to God than any other Language.  
I see Brother, said I, that I am far from Converting you, and yet (added I, smiling) this Task is imposed upon me: And who imposed it, (said her) She that gave you Life, (said I) and would feign give you Eternal Life if it were possible. 'Tis than my Mother, (replied he) who disdaining to ●mploy her own Learning against me, thinks it enough to sand her Daughter to convince me: But Sister, added he, laughing out ●loud, take Courage, execute the Commission that hath been given ●ou; quote me the Explication of the Fathers on the Scripture, the Decrees of General Councils, the Hi●●●ry of all Ages; bring Aristotle and▪ Desca●tes into the Field, and if you will, all the Schoolmen; show me by convincing Arguments that your Church is the true Church, and I shall accounted it my Honour to obey you.  
At the●e words my Passion grew so violent, that I could not master it, and striking him a smart blow on the fingers with my busk, I'll teach you, said I, to jeer ●e. Well done Sister, said he, bursting out into a Laughter, I see well that you have learned to imitate the Persecutors of our Churches, who when ●●ir artifice and cunning fails them, have recourse to force. This gentle reproach filled me with Contusion, which might easily be read in my Countenance. This is nothing, said he, I pardon you with ●●l my heart, but you must tell me plainly all that my Mother said to you. My Mother (replied I) ●●●eves that you may one day become a good Cath●●ck, provided a little care be taken of you: And what▪ said ●e, could induce her to think so? That which you have said yourself, answered I, that too ma●● of the Ceremonies were laid aside in the Reformed Church, and this makes her believe that you are much disgusted with the Religion of Calvin. Alas good Woman! (cried he) how ●ast her imagination ●●●●es n●r! how easily doth she believe what she de●●es! But (added he) did she command you to u●ge me in this Point, and did you promise' her to do it? I promised that I would spe●k to you about it, and that I would not amuse myself to dispute with you. You intent than Sister, said he, to make me yield without an Engagement, which I'll never do either in temporals or spirituals. You may dispute against me if you please; I'll not dispute at all, (said I) I had rather leave you in your Error. Ah (said he) if you will not dispute with me, I'll dispute with you, and therefore now prepare to defend yourself.  
Immediately, without giving me time to answer, he took up a little Crucifix that was on the Table, what do you intent to do with this? Of what use is it? It brings my Saviour (replied I) to my mind; is it possible, (answered he) that you need such helps as these to mind you of your Saviour? Can't you think on him without having a Crucifix before your Eyes? indeed your Devotion must needs be at a low ebb, if you can't mind God unless you have this before you: But you know (said I) that our mind is apt to be distracted, and to run out after variety of things, and that we must often reduce it to its proper Object by the sight of such things as fix its thoughts. I shall turn (said he) your own Argument upon yourself. 'Tis the Crucifix that you look on, that distracts you in your contemplation of Jesus Christ: For Sister (added he) when you behold the Crucifix, you cannot choose but say in yourself, there's the Image of Jesus Christ, and when you think on the Image, you think not directly on Jesus Christ. And, as you know, it is impossible at once to look upon a man and his Picture; so 'tis impossible to have an Image before your Eyes, and yet to think only on the Original. If you cannot think on Jesus Christ unless you have a Crucifix before you, 'tis a plain Evidence that your Piety is very miserable, since it owes its support and maintenance to such wretched means. 'Tis as much as if you had said, that you stand in such absolute need of an Image, that you cannot awaken your Zeal without it: But if you pretend that your spirit is carried out after your Saviour, that you do not at all mind the Image; of what use than is it? Can you not without it do what the Word of God Commands, (viz.) Worship God in Spirit and in Truth? Think you that a Marmouser, or Image can inspire you with such thoughts as are necessary for your Salvation? and han't you reason to expect from converse with God in Spirit by means of Prayer, such blessings as are much more great and singular? Come than to yourself, and be ashamed of using what Christ never approved of, and which disturbs the mind in, and turns it from its best Meditation.  
Such things as are the Objects of sense, and have an External resemblance given them, which depend on the will or skill of the Painters or Engravers, are far more capable of sinking man into vain and frivolous Imaginations, than of freeing them from them. Thus we see that most Catholics do insensibly suffer their Devotion to run out after the Image rather than the Original. You say what you please Brother, (said I) and charge us with such things as are very remote from our true sentiments; I'll charge you (said he) with nothing but what I'll prove. Is it not certain, that amongst all the Images of Jesus Christ and Crucifixes, some are more honoured than others? You see great Crucifixes in Churches, before which every Body prostrate themselves; these are great Lords in comparison of the poor Crucifixes, that are on Brigdes and highways, who are happy enough, if one amongst a thousand moves his Cap at them.  
If all Crucifixes serve to represent to you your Saviour nailed to the Cross, they have all one and the same dignity, nor ought you to show more respect to some, than to others; seeing their dignity results not from the matter whereof they are made; nor the skill of the Workman, who gives them what Figure he pleaseth; why than do you make so great a difference between them, that you'll scarce youchsafe some of them so much as a look, when you fall on your knees before others? what answer will you make to this? I say (replied I) if we make any distinction between these Images, 'tis because some of them do more naturally and livelily represent our Saviour, than others do, and consequently are more capable of warming our Zeal: So that (replied he scoffingly) your Zeal depends in part on the hand of Carver or Painter; I believe (added he) you yourselves would laugh at such reasons: But know, that if it be good to make use of Images, as helps of Devotion, according to your Principles the same honour must be rendered to all: To those whose workmanship discover lest skill as well as others; because, as I said before, their dignity results not from their Matter or Figure, but from the Original, whose Images they are, or rather from the End men aimed at in setting them up, to represent Jesus Christ: So that if you make any difference between Images, either as made of more excellent materials, or with greater Art, and if you honour some more than you do others, you thereby show that your mind is more fixed upon the Image, than on the Original, and consequently can't free yourselves from being guilty of a kind of Idolatry.  
Idolatry, said I, (interrupting him,) I am not yet so ignorant, but I know the difference between Images and Idols; and I believe none can justly charge me with Idolatry, for having before me the Image of my Saviour, when I adore him. They are Idolaters who believe there is some Deity in the Images themselves; but for such who regard them only as representations, and whose mind tend only to the Original, they certainly can't deserve this Name. Many Catholics, (replied my Brother,) yea even most, believe that there is an hidden Virtue in some Images, whether Crucifixes or others, which work Miracks, which others done't do. Every body runs after these Miracle-working Images, whereas the others are comparatively but little regarded. I ask on now, whether such as flock to these Images, done't ●deed believe that they have some divine Virtue, or ●se reverence them only as simple Images? If they say ●at God hath chosen th●se Images to manifest his ●ower by rather than others. God looks on Images on●● as wood▪ stone, or any other matter, and 'tis injurious ●o his Infinite Majesty to make him accompany with ●is efficacy dead things, the works of men's hands, ●nd such as men's hands can also destroy: And whence ●aid I come the Miracles which are wrought by ●em? Most of them (answered he) are mere cheats, 〈◊〉 I might prove by innumerable Examples, and as ●r others, God suffers them to hap as Evidences 〈◊〉 his wrath against a People given up to a repro●te Spirit, and the Efficacy of Error, as he suffer●● the Magicians of Pharaoh to work Miracles: I am ●ling to believe that some Crucifixes have wept, ●hers have spoken, others have laughed, and others ●ve bowed their heads. The Devil is the Author 〈◊〉 all these operations, and not God; for when ●od discovers any miraculous work, he makes no ●e of Images or Idols made by men, unless it be 〈◊〉 cause them to fall to the ground, as he did Da●● before the Ark of the Covenant. But he snows 〈◊〉 power on men themselves, making them according to what they are, whether proud or humble, 〈◊〉 Objects of his terrible Justice, or else of his In●●e Mercy.  
IT has been always the Devils great design to esta●sh Idolatry in the World, and this design he ma●geth according to what he finds men to be, wheer more refined, or gross and blockish. At pre●t seeing that men are grown more subtle than ●er, he proposeth to them an Idolatry more de●ate and disguised. I scruple not to affirm, that ●e Guides of the Church of Rome, concur to pro●●te the Devils work: For what do they so ear●stly press the People to the worship of Images▪ but only to hinder them from forming an Idea 〈◊〉 a Religion that's purely Spiritual? For according t● their Maxim, men's minds must be kept low, th●● they may be the better governed, and may the mor● quietly and without contradiction bear the Tyranny of their Spiritual Rulers: And this is the Devi● Maxim too, And seeing that People are grow● more refined than ever they were, he would not ofte● them so gross an Idolatry as reigns amongst the barbarous Pagans', but a subtle Idolatry, which is acted unde● another Name, and in different ways, and consists i● the worship of Images, as 'tis practised in the Church of Rome: For the Spirit of darkness very well knows th●● the Spirit of Man is too weak of itself to attain to 〈◊〉 Spiritual Worship, and that on the contrary 'tis eresie to make it embrace a grosser Worship, by d●guising things under other shapes. And 'twas f●● this End that he introduced the worship of Image● pretending at first that he only offered them as help● whereby men might be enabled to serve God t●● more easily, but he well knew that Images wou●● certainly pr●ve a stumbling-block; so that m●● would insensibly pass from the adoration of Go● and from his worship to the adoration and wors●●● of Images. directly and simply, without ever min●ing the Original.  
The Church of Rom● deals with the People, ju●● as Nurses do with Children, busying them with Ba●●bies and Poppets. Thus it amuseth the People wi●● Images, as though there were some Deity enclosed 〈◊〉 them, or that God chose to man●●est his Power 〈◊〉 such Organs. And indeed those Biggots of bo●● Sexes that are mad after these follies, deserve 〈◊〉 be dealt with as Children are. O my Sister, (a●ded he) did you know how God acts by his Wor● and how it raiseth our Souls up to Heaven to see 〈◊〉 Christ, who reigns there eternally, you would no● delay one moment to burn your Crucifixes, and 〈◊〉 your Images.  
Burn them! (said I, startling at the very expres●on,) that's Devilish advice indeed, and well becoming an Heretic; who ever spoke of burning the ●icture of him whom he honoured, respected, and pved above all others? what greater affront to Je●●s Christ than this? Yes Sister, added he, burn 'em, 〈◊〉 say, burn 'em, and let not this alarm you. Aught ●●e not to get rid of thatwhich knits and ties our ●pirits to meater, and so to get rid of it, as never ●ore to see it? Hath not our Lord said, If thy right ●and offend thee cut it of, and if thy right eye offend thee ●●ck it out? Much more ought we to cast away ●●ose stones of offence, if they are any wise the occasions of sin: and we need not fear offending God 〈◊〉 so doing, under pretence that the Images we destroy ●e his, for God never commanded us to make these images, or to worship him by them; Men have ●ade them according to their own Fancies and Ima●nation, and have set them them up, not for the ●lory of God, but for their own secret designs, and ●e aught to destroy all that is contrary to God's ●lory.  
You have doubtless heard of that wondered bra●en Serpent, which God himself caused to be made ●●r the cure of those that were bitten by the fiery serpent's: for upon their looking towards it, all that ●ere bitten were immediately cured. This Serpent ●ad three great Prerogatives, which none of your images ever had; for first it was made by God's ex●ress Command, which can be said of no other I●age; than by means of it many great Miracles, indubitable Miracles were wrought in the sight of all ●●e People, after an easy and effectual manner; for ●was but to look upon it, and they were immediately cured of what was in itself very painful and grievous, and would otherwise have been in its consequences very fatal. The finest Crucifix that ever ●as made, can do nothing worthy to be compared with this. Lastly, 'twas a Type of Jesus Christ himself, by looking on whom by Faith, we are delivered from the real fiery Serpent's: For thus saith S. Jon● in the 14●h Chapter of his Gospel, As Moses litte● up the Serpent in the de●art, so must also the Son 〈◊〉 man be lifted up.  
These Reasons seem to pled strongly not only fo● its preservation in Memory of the past Miracles, and to be an Ima●● 〈◊〉 ●im th●● wa● to come; but also for its being reverenced. A 〈◊〉 the People of Israel seeme● mor● 〈◊〉 us●●●e in ad●●ring 〈◊〉 than you are in adoring your Cru●isixes because 'twas to them an Image of hi●● of whom ●●ey ●ad a v●ry imperfect Knowledged; whereas now Christ is come, and we have a much more perfect knowledge of him than the Ancient Jews had, an● therefore have no need of a material Image to represent to u● our Sa●●our? But what became of this braze● Serpent' ●●z ●●ias who was a good Prince a Prince fearing God, ●●●ing th●t the People offered incense to it▪ broke it and s●a●●ed 〈◊〉 t● powder; had he done ill▪ he would have ●een punished, ●r at lea●●●ep oved, wh●re is on the contrary his ●eign was 〈◊〉 happy▪ and blessed of God▪ because without amusing himself wit● the s●●●●les o●●he Vulgar, he had taken away from this People the subject or occasion of Idolatry. We may lea●n hence how good 'tis to destroy all that may 'cause us to err, not sp●ring i● 〈◊〉 any reason, or specious pretence whatever.  
God was pleased to manifest his presence in a p●●●●ar manner in his A●k of the Covenant; so than he caused the wonders of his Majesty to appe● where ever it was carried; he divided Rivers', threw down the Walls of Cities, caused the Idols to fall before it, smote thousands of those that durst look into it, afflicted the Philistin●● w●th grievous and shameful Distempers, slew such as presumed only to touch it, and blessed those with whom it was lodged: Yet that he might remove every thing that might occasion any breach in the true Devotion of his People, especially when ●●e Gospel was to be preached, he suffered this Ark 〈◊〉 perish in the burning of Jerusalem, that the Jews ●i●ht not have any thing to hinder them from em●acing the Gospel.  
Yet Sister (added he) I don't say these things 〈◊〉 persuade you to burn your Crucifixes and Images, ●ut only to justify the expression I made use of; for ●is unreasonable to burn any thing, unless we have ●eason to fear it may 'cause our fall; we may keep ●●em as things that are indifferent, and I cannot approve of the indiscreet Zeal of some Hugonots, that ●usie themselves in breaking in pieces all the Images ●●d Statues they meet with. True Piety shows not 〈◊〉 self outrageous, it contents its self with withdraw●g its own foot, without scandalising the weak. ●is true, God often inspired his People to cast away ●●ch things as might 'cause them to err, according 〈◊〉 the Prophecy of Isaiah, Ch. 2. v. 20. In that day 〈◊〉 man ●hall cast his Idols of silver, and bis Idols of gold, ●hich t●ey made each one for himself to worship, to the ●●●●es, and to the Bats. This Prophecy was fulfilled ●hen the darkness of Paganism began to be dissipated, I may also say, when the true light caused the ●●adows of Popery to f●ee away.  
My Brother seeing that I took a singular delight 〈◊〉 hearing him, and that I were somewhat touched ●ith his Discourses, was about to have continued, ●hen we heard a noise at our Chamber door, a●●hich I looked pale with fear; for had my Mother ●●ard us, I must have paid dear for our Discourse, ●●d perhaps my Brother too. But he being▪ more ●old than I, w●nt to open the door, and found that ●was my Father, who came into the Chamber with 〈◊〉 smiling Countenance: I confess, my Children, said ●e, that I made you very much afraid, but I am ●ot come to disturb you, nor to break of a Conversation with which I am extremely delighted. Afterwards, turning to me, I am, said he, very well plea●ed with your Brother for what he hath-said, and with you for hearing him; I shall only add this on● word: If God by his means touch your heart, don'● kick against the Pricks, nor be obstinate against the Holy Spirit, when he speaks to your Conscience▪ Your Brother doth what I ought to have done were it not for the solemn Oath I kave too rashly taken, Never to discourse of Religion with my Daughters, with which I might well dispense, did I no● consider that God hath given me a Son who hat● Knowledge and Zeal enough for the performance of this Duty.  
Indeed Father, (said my Brother,) you may we●● allow me this Liberty, seeing my Mother commanded my Sister to tempt me to change my Religion Than you conspire, Justine, with your Mother (sai● my Father) to seduce your Brother; I am ver● glad I know it, we will make use of Reprisals: Bu● my Children, use more prudence another time wh●● you discourse, for had your Mother heard you, 〈◊〉 she might have done, there would have been 〈◊〉 dreadful ado, and Ferdinand would have had n● more reason to boast of his Mother's Favour. After this my Father retired, leaving us to discourse inquiet; in the mean time my Brother placed th● Chessboard on the Table, with some Verses whic● he took out of his Pocket.  
This Precaution was not needless, for my Mothe● had her Spies, who informed her that both my Father and my Brother were in my Closet; she who● was distrustful enough in matters of Conscience, feared least in attempting to gain my Brother sh● should loose me, and therefore came to listen to o●● Discourse; but my Brother having left the Door o● my Closet open, I could easily discover all that cam● unto my Chamber; and seeing my Mother, I gav● my Brother notice of it by signs, who seemed eng●ed in Play: my Mother seeing that she was discovered, came into my Closet, and said to us smiling, Ah Youth, youth, can you found nothing wherewith to employ yourselves but Plays and Trifles? I ●●●i●ve (answered my Brother very readily,) that ●ou have made an agreement with my Father to ●●ide us: And why did he chide you, (said she) he ●●med me that I did nothing but loose my time, ●●d told me that in three days he would sand me 〈◊〉 the Army; Did your Father say so, replied my ●other, but he shall not be Master of his own Reso●tions. I have but one Son, and have been ten ●●ars without seeing him, and would he now he is 〈◊〉 just returned snatch him again out of my Arms; ●swear he shall never do it; and I would feign know ●hat he intends you should do in the Army, unless ●●ve your Brains knocked out. Indeed your Father 〈◊〉 very unnatural.  
Ah, F●rdinand, Ferdinand, your Mother loves you 〈◊〉 more tenderly; she would not only have you ●e to be her Comfort, but would willingly give ●e better part of her blood, that you might obtain ●other Life that endures for ever, which you can ●ver hope for, while you remain what you are. I ●●ank you, Mother (said he) with all my heart, for ●e Charity you discover towards me; 'tis enough ●y Mother, that 'tis by you I enjoy this Life, as 〈◊〉 the other I expect it from him who hath form 〈◊〉 Soul: But Son (said she) you are not in the ●●y to obtain it. I understand you Mother, reply●● he, you would persuade me that the Roman Region is the only Religion that leads to Heaven; but ●●w can you desire me to believe it, since it or●ins all Catholics to be in a perpetual doubt of ●eir Salvation. I can never believe, that that will ●ing me to happiness, which requires me to doubt ●●ether ever I shall partake of it.  
Here my Mother was struck dumb, and though ●e was a Woman of spirit, yet she could not carry ●f this stroke. And my Brother who saw that he ●●d spoken too freely, began to mollify what ●e had said, by telling her that he would not absolutely condemn the Catholic Religion, in which were many things that he approved of, though they were much disliked by other Hugonots. On the contrary, said he, the Religion of Calvin seems to me a little too N●ked and voided of Ceremonies. Hereupon some came to call my Mother, who than only said, I pray God and the Holy Virgin to Enlighten you, and so left us. Yet seeing it was somewhat late, we were forced to break of our Conversation for this time.  
I thought fit, dear Ladies, said Madamoiselle de St. Phale, to rehearse these things at large, to show you the means which it pleased God to make use of to bring me to the Knowledge of his Truth what I have further to tell you, is more curious than the beginning. I perceive, said Madamoisell Leonora, by what you have already said, that the History of your Life must have somewhat very singular in it, which I impatiently long to hear from you; but seeing it is somewhat late, and you have spoken enough, I believe you would be willing to Dine before you continued your charming Relation: Indeed Dinner was found to be just ready, which was over in an instant. They walked some time after Dinner on the Deck, and than returned into the , where Madamoiselle de St. Phale continued her Relation.   

CHAP. II.  
I Can not once close my Eyes for sleep the whole Night after I had had this Discourse with my Brother; I knew not what reason I had for my Religion, I was convinced that he had some for his, and even before he had said any thing to me, I was disgusted with many things in the Church of Rome. In the Morning I fell into a short Nap, in which I had such a Dream as disturbed me more than all the rest. Methought I saw my Father sick unto Death, who said unto me, Justina, God who takes from you your earthly Father, will himself be a Father to you, on Condition that you serve him in Spirit and Truth, which you cannot do, whilst you make Profession of those Superstitions in which you have been Educated; if you rencunce it, and sincerely embrace the Religion of our Churches, you shall indeed be terribly Persecuted and stripped of your Estate, but yet you shall end your days in happiness and tranquillity of spirit, and when you leave this Life, shall enter on another, in comparison of which, the choicest Enjoyments in this World are but Vanity and Emptiness: But if you obstinately resist the Will of your God, you shall dye miserably, in the most grievous Troubles and Despair, which shall be the forerunners of Eternal Torments. These words methought were his last, Death preventing his speaking any more. When I awoke, my Eyes were full of Tears, and I was terribly disquieted for three days with this Dream, so that I resolved to get myself instructed by my Brother, both in my own Religion, and in that of the Hugonots.  
I was scarce got out of my Bed, before I saw my Brother coming into my Chamber; as soon as I saw him, I sent my Waiting Gentlewoman on an Errand, and he without losing any time, said Sister, I am come to wish you a good Morning, not do I come empty handed, seeing I bring you what is more worth than the Crown of our King. You are than (said I) much enriched this Night, receiving his Present, which was the New Testament very neatly bound. You said yesterday, (added he) that you Worshipped your Crucifix to excite● Piery, lay aside your Crucifix and read the Holy Scripture, you will soon found whether the Word of God be not much more powerful than an impotent Image. I thanked him, and promised to follow his Advice; after which he left me, to salute my Mother, towards whom he was very exac●in his Carriage.  
In the mean time I opened the New Testament, and found that he had Written in the Frontispiece of the Book, these words of the Revelation, Behold I stand 〈◊〉 the Door and knock, if any one hear my Voice and open to me, I will come in to him, and sup with him, and he with me. I well understood my Brother's Intention in writing this Passage, which I soon applied to myself. After this I withdrens into my Closet, where I read the History of our Lord's Passion, Death and Resurrection, as 'tis written in the twenty sixth, twenty seventh and twenty eighth Chapters of St. Matthew. This reading so affected me, that I never Prayed to God so hearty in all my Life. After my Prayer I continued to read still, and I found that as I read, the Word made a passage into my Soul, which filled me with unexpressible Joy. Hereupon my Brother came to me, to Conduct me into my Mother's Chamber, who was astonished at my negligence, but before I left my own Chamber, I carefully locked up my New-Testament, which many Reasons obliged me to keep safe.  
My Mother as soon as she saw me, said unto ●e, You have been very sluggish to day, and ●oking more earnestly upon me, What Langour said she) is that that I see in your Eyes? I dare ●y a Wager that you have not slept, but have ●ent a good part of the Night in reading some romance: I was very loathe to undeceive her, for ●hich Reason I returned no Answer. Hereupon my ●●ther came to us, inviting us into the Garden, ●here as he walked on the one side, my Brother ●●d I walked on the other. 'Twas there that I ●inked him yet again for his Present, and opened 〈◊〉 Heart to him, declaring that I found many ●●ings in the Church of Rome which I could not bear, 〈◊〉 could not as yet resolve to forsake it. Sister, re●●ed he, 'tis fit to examine things seriously before 〈◊〉 forsake any thing, especially in matters of Relion; hold fast your Religion in which you have been fucated, till you are convinced that it is not the ●t, and that there is another far more excellent, 〈◊〉 than you cannot in Conscience adhere to what 〈◊〉 are perfwaded is more defective, and neglect ●at is more perfect. This day we had a Discourse two hours, about Transubstantiation, and the day ●owing another about Justification by Works. 〈◊〉 another day she spoke to me about the Sacri●● for the Living and the Dead, offered up by 〈◊〉 hands of the Priest; but that which he most ●●l endeavoured to prove, was, That the Church Rome could not be the true Church. 'Twould be 〈◊〉 tedious, should I relate all that he said to me, 〈◊〉 the arguments which he urged to prove his asser●s, which made me doubt lest I were in the false ●●reh, and resolve to enter into the true one.  
Three week, passed in these Discourses, and when ●und any Arguments to oppose against my Bro●s, I always resisted him; but he soon answered ●●n; at length I declared to him the disposition of 〈◊〉 Spirit, which much rejoiced him: Yet he judged this business to be of such Importance, th●● he thought fit to make my Father acquainted wi●● it, which he did: So that as my Mother was one day employed in looking over some certain Accounts, my Father called me into his Chamber where I found my Brother: Daughter, said he, hear some News that pleaseth me extremely, ma● I believe it? Yes Father, answered I, and if yo● please to hear me, I shall give you full satisfaction Hereupon he asked me several Questions, to which I returned such Answers, as did not at all displea● him. 'Tis enough (said he) for the present, return now to your Mother; yet my Daughter, added he, if you constantly persist in this holy Resolution, I assure you that come what will, the Bless●● of God will never fail you, and your heavenly Fath●● will accomplish in Heaven the Prayers which yo●● Earthly Father hath here made for you. The lo●● and tenderness of these Expressions forced te●● from my Eyes. I found, answered I, that G●● opens my understanding more and more, I recommend myself to your good Prayers, that he wou●● make fuller discoveries of his Truth to me. Y●● Justine, yes my Daughter, said he very affectionated I'll go into my Closet to pray for you. But this not enough, you yourself must also address yo● humble prayers to our good God, who abounds Eternal Grace and Mercy, that he would finish 〈◊〉 work in your Heart: And you Ferdinand, fail 〈◊〉 to do the same thing; and ascribe not to your 〈◊〉 the Glory of having conuerted your Sister, but gi●● it all to God, who alone hath dominion over 〈◊〉 Heart.  
My Mother being still employed, I went is my Closet to perform what my Father had commanded, and to recommend myself to God, which after I had finished, I found myself more firm resolved, and more cheerful than I was  expecting till God should give me a favourable portunity to put my Design in Execution: on the ●●ther hand my Mother was not idle, being earnesily ●ent on my Brother's Conversion. My Brother who ●●d prudence and subtlety enough for the management of such an Aff●ir, did not absolutely reject ●●is Proposition, nor did he approve of it, but offered her to entertain some hopes, that he might ●●e time or other be wrought upon. How often ●●ve we laughed about this Intricate adventure, in ●●at my Mother hoping to change her Son, made ●●e of her Daughter to this end; and my Father ●ade use of his Son to convert his Daughter, which 〈◊〉 last succeeded, whereas all my Mother's designs ●●ned into smoke!  
We had need to be very careful to hid all these ●●ings from my Mother, who was a Woman of that ●●mper, that had she had the lest notice of what ●●sled, she would have caused me to have been carded away by force, and kept in a Convent all my 〈◊〉. There happened at that time two things, which ●●ped much to deceive my Mother; one was, that Catholic Gentleman endeavoured to get me in ●●rriage. Although my Mother had resolved in her ●n Mind to bestow me on him, yet she would ●●clude on nothing till she had made my Father quainted with it, with whom she always lived in ●●at Love and Peace. My Father would not in ●s business act as Master; seeing (said he) my ●●ughter hath been educated in your Religion, I ●n mit the management of her wholly to you, you ●y do with her what you please. Yet Madam, ●ing you are pleased to Consult me about this arriage, I shall freely declare my Judgement. The ●ung Man of whom you speak is indeed of a good ●●mily, yet this Family is much in Debt: And I informed, That this Young Man is too great a ●●a●chee for a Virgin of that worth as our Daugh●●s who deserveth a better Lot. Yet Madam▪ you are wholly Mistress of her; she is entirely a● your disposal, and I know that you'll do nothing tha● is a disparagement to your Prudence, seeing that I freely consent to whatever you shall judge requisite. Indeed said my Mother, since you deal so freely with m● in this matter, I assure you that you shall be Maste● of her destiny, and provided she marry a Catholic my Will shall be wh●ll● resigned to yours. I had 〈◊〉 mind, answered my Father, to propose to you 〈◊〉 Catholic Gentleman, whose Manners, Wisdom and sweetness of Disposition extremely please me 〈◊〉 'tis Madam the Son of your Cousin German, Mada● de— This was what my Mother most desire● for she tenderly loved this Gentleman her Cous●● who indeed had all the Qualities that comma●● Esteem. I thank you, replied my Mother, that yo● are pleased to prefer my Relations before other but since I see you have so good an opinion of hi● I desire that they may be Married as soon as pos●●ble. I desire it as well as you, answered my Father but we must endeavour that he first get some Off●● in the Army; and to this end we must declare th● we will not give her to a simple Volunteer; and 〈◊〉 Friends, whose Interest is very great, will not fail 〈◊〉 getting him some Employment. My Mother like this Advice extremely well, and resolved to confi●● in my Father, more than ever she had hitherto done.  
The other thing was, that my Father seemed 〈◊〉 make my Mother his Confident, in some things 〈◊〉 lating to my Brother. It much troubles me, sa●● he, that Ferdinand thus loseth his time her● and were it not for the respect which I see y●● have for him, I had sent him before now back into the Army, or into Germany or England. At another time my Mother would have returned a ●●ry sharp Answer to this Discourse, but my Fath●● had showed so much complaisance for her, that 〈◊〉 ●urst not contradict him to his face. Sir, said she, I had ●ot seen my Son these ten years, and would you ●ake ●●m from me again, when I have scarce enjoyed his company two Months? No Madam, replied my ●ather, I will not take him from you, but I am ●raid he'll go away himself, for I see that this unitive idle life which he leads in this Country, doth ●ot at all suit with his humour: 'Tis natural with him 〈◊〉 be in action, and the contrary must needs be tedious; he can't always Play, or Walk, or Hunt, or Discourse, these things serve to refresh the Mind, but ●●nnot satisfy it. Let me speak with him, said my ●other, it may be I may induce him to change his ●ind; where is he? I●ll talk with him by and by. ●hink, replied my Father, he is in the Garden. immediately my Mother called me to walk with her 〈◊〉 my Brother.  
We found my Brother sitting near a Fountain, 〈◊〉 a Prosound Meditation, for he was considering the ●urse he ought to take to make me abjure the Errors of the Church of Rome. We surprised him in ●s Posture, and my Mother raised him from his ●ep study, by giving him a gentle blow on the ●oulder with her hand: What are you thinking 〈◊〉 Ferainand, said she, that you are in such a study. 〈◊〉 declare my Mind to you, (Mother said he,) ●●ugh I dare not do it to my Father. I would 〈◊〉 return to the Army, what would you have me 〈◊〉 here to pick Straws? Lay aside these thoughts, 〈◊〉 my Mother, why would you return thither to ●e your Brains knocked out, and make me the ●●st miserable of all Mothers? What think you ●uld I do, should I loose my only Son, on whom 〈◊〉 best hopes are placed? 'Twere indeed some●●g if you had any grounds to expect Preferment; 〈◊〉 things are at that pass at present, that there 〈◊〉 be nothing hoped for in favour of those of your widgeon; for should you perform the bravest Actions, and do the King all i●●●ina●le Service, 'twould all be looked on as nothing whilst you are an Hugo●● My Brother replied only with a deep sigh, wh●● made my Mother believe she saw what was in 〈◊〉 bottom of his heart, but she was deceived. Y●● sigh Ferdinand, said she, and say nothing, but I 〈◊〉 you once again, that as long as you are an Hugo●● you will never get any Advancement: But I'll d●● course with you more to morrow Morning, fail 〈◊〉 to come to me to thy Chamber; go for the pres●● and think on what I have said to you.  
When he had left us, my Mother said to m● Your Brother dislikes several things in the R●l●g●● of Calvin, and approves of many things in o●● moreover he is somewhat ambirious, let us go 〈◊〉 my Daughter, and strike whilst the Iron is hot, 〈◊〉 shall certainly make s●me impression on aim one 〈◊〉 or other. 'T〈◊〉 b● a difficult work, (answered 〈◊〉 he is more s●xed than ●ou imagine. No matter 〈◊〉 plied my Mother) the merit of it will be 〈◊〉 great before God, and the honour before men; 〈◊〉 you do ●our part, and I'll no mine; we daily 〈◊〉 Conversions wrought that seemed far more diff●● than his; yea, were at ●●rst accounted imposs●● If your Brother will be guided by Reason, ra●● than by the Coun●●ls of your ●a●her, I ll set 〈◊〉 Learned Men upon him, as must needs conjure him: And if he hath any Ambition, I ll get h●● discourse with such, as have at present all the po●● i● their own hands, who will not sail of m●king 〈◊〉 Fortune, whereof the●●● give him all the assurance 〈◊〉 can desire. Only let it be your endeavour to 〈◊〉 him capable o● good Advice, and above all to 〈◊〉 vaunt his giving my Father an Accounted of 〈◊〉 passes.  
In the mean time m●●●other, as so●n as he 〈◊〉 jest us went into my Father's Apartment, and ●●ted all that my Mother had ●●●d to him; my Fa●● To gave him an account of that that passed between ●n and my Mother, to prevent her discovering ●eir Designs, adding, That he saw well enough ●●t this ●●od Woman intended, but that by the ●ace of God all her Designs should come to no●●ing, and his have their desired success. Some ●●rt time after as I returned from the Garden with 〈◊〉 Mother, seeing her busy in giving Orders about ●●e Concerns of the Family, I ●an immediately to 〈◊〉 Father's Lodgings, where I found my Brother▪ 〈◊〉 ●●on as my Father saw me, So, said he to me, ●●u act in concert with your Mother, for the Conver●n or rather perversion of your Brother: Two Wo●●● answered I, are too weak to encounter one ●n; but my Mother resolves to sand some Doctor's 〈◊〉 my Brother, against whom he shall never be able 〈◊〉 defend himself, and hereupon I related all that 〈◊〉 Mother had discovered of her Design. You have ●e very well, said my Father, to inform us of this; 〈◊〉 now, added he, I would have you to return, 〈◊〉 fear lest your Mother should perceive you have ●●ken with me. Thus my Father and Mother 〈◊〉 ployed their utmost artifice to deceive each ●●er; but in the end my Mother found herself 〈◊〉 taken in her reckoning. My Brother told me ●●e, that my Father seemed somewhat troubled ●he Methods which my Mother resolved to follow: I ●●esee (said he to my Brother,) that you will be ●osed to great temptations. I am not so much ●aid of the arguments of the Learned, as I am of ●se of such as are in Power, when they shall re●● sent to you the Offices, Prosperity and Pleasure ●●●ch you shall enjoy. if you embrace the Romish ●●●●n. You are young, and the fumes of Ambigu more easily seize on the minds of such as are ●●ing, than of theirs that are farther advanced in 〈◊〉: Be not confident of your own strength, but ●●●●t only in God. I know, said my Brother, that if I trust in my own strength, I am the weakest of a I men, but if I place my confidence in the Lord, I am stronger than the whole World. After this my Father gave him leave to retire. Nothing more considerable happened this day.  
But the next Morning my Brother went to my Mother's Apartment, and found her in her Closet; she not sooner understood that he was come, but she commanded him to come in and sit down by her, which he at first modestly refusing to do, Ferdinand, said she, I now lay aside my Character of 〈◊〉 Mother, to speak to you as a Friend; and therefore without any more ado sit down by me, which my Brother doing without returning any Answer; she shedding some tears, spoke thus to him in a ton● that argued a great deal of tenderness.  
I can never, said she, look upon you without having my Heart agitated with contrary Passions, whe● I consider that I have in you a Son, both Wise, Honest, and Valiant; I cannot but rejoice and accounted myself the happiest of all Women, this being a favour which God doth not vouchsafe to all Mothers but when I consider on the other hand, That th●● Son whom I love, who is so proper a Person, and 〈◊〉 much esteemed by all, and who hath such Nob●● Inclinations; hath been brought up in a false a●● Heretical Religion, and persists in it, it extorts from me the bitterest tears, and it grieves me that I ev●● brought you into the World. O Ferdinand, Fer●●nand, did you know all that passed in my Heart o● this account, and the Compassion that I have for yo● you would have more Complaisance for me than no● you have. Moore she could not speak, her sighs stopping her Discourse.  
Mother, replied my Brother, (who was touche● to see her so much concerned) there's not a te● you shed but is worse than a Dagger to my Hear● why do you thus give way to your Sorrow. I kno● Mother, that 'tis a maternal Compassion which you have for me; but it may be 'tis a blind Compassion, that flows only from your Prejudices: I wish you knew how far the respect your Son hath for you will carry him, and therefore I declare, That if any can convince me that I am in a false Religion, I am ready to embrace the Religion which shall be proved to be better, for I will not be led by Obstinacy, but by Reason: To this end I now lay aside all my Prejudices which I may have taken up in favour of my Religion, and against yours; and am ready to embrace freely your Religion if I found it better, or ●o persist in my own, if it appears to be the true Religion. My Mother was mightily well pleased at this Declaration, and said, I take you to your word, remember to keep it: Yes Mother, (said he) I shall ●lwa●s remember this, That if any can convince me ●hat I am in an Error, I must not rest in it: That 〈◊〉, replied my Mother, that if I bring you a Man ●hat shall remove all your Doubts and Scruples, you ●ill come over to us. Yes Mother (answered he) ●ith all my Heart; for I should be very unhappy, If ●nowing I were in an evil way I would not be perwaded to leave it: If you will (added my Mother) ●ll bring you acquainted with such as can advance ●ou, and bestow honourable Offices on you, if you ●ill embrace our Religion: Every thing hath its ●roper season, (answered my Brother smiling) I ●ust not be exposed to so many assaults at once. hereupon my Brother risen up, and paying his repects to my Mother, left her abundantly satisfied ●ith this Conversation, for she believed she had gotten 〈◊〉 kind of Conquest over him; and flattered her ●elf with hopes, that all that he said, was only that ●e might turn his Coat with a better Grace, as those places who expect the Canon before they Capi●late.  
Nothing now remained to be done, but the assigning the day for the Dispute; for the person whom my Mother had chosen to oppose my Brother, was her confessor, the Father Matthew, a Jesuit, one that was Learned enough, but yet bette● s●ored with Malice than Learning. (I myself hav● f●lt some ●ffects of his Malice, which is the reaso● why I hate the whole Order, and dealt so roughly yesterday with those two disguised Brothers). A● length the day was appointed, which was to be th● Mo●●ow after my Father should go to Dijon to fo●low a Suit he had depending before the Parliament of t●at P●ace; for my Mother took special c●re 〈◊〉 conceal all her Contrivances from my Father, wh●● for his part, was as careful to pretend that he kne●● n●●hing of them: As for my Brother and I, we dissembled our intentions well enough. At length, th● Evening before my Father was to take his Jou●n●●, as we were about to sit down to Suppe●●●y Father said to my Brother, As soon as you ha●● s●nt, put up such things as will be necessary in yo●● Journey, for you shall ride with me: My Mothe●●●●ring this, was very much alarmed; How S●● (said she) do you intent that Ferdinand shall go wi●● you? will you leave us all alone? 'Tis time, Mada● sa●d my Father, that he be acquainted with the Affairs of our Family, you know of what Consequen●● the Suit is that I go a●out, I must have some bo●● to help me. My Mother was struck dumb wi●● these words, and knew not what answer to mak● Methinks Madam (said my Father) you are more co●●cerned at Ferdinand's absence than at mine. I woul● answered she, comfort myself with the Son, d●ring his Father's Absence; but since you are resolve● to carry him with you, you may do what you thi●● fit. Well Madam (replied he) I'll leave him wi●● you, since you so earnestly desire it; but one thing 〈◊〉 charge you, that you suffer him not to go from our hou● ●●ill my return, for I will not have him departed till 〈◊〉 have discoursed more largely with him. After ●●●s we sa●e do●n at Table, having a great mind to 〈◊〉 at the Trouble which my Father's Discourse ●ad caused m● Mother.  
Supper ●eing ended, my Mother withdrew into ●●r Chamber to writ to Dijon, where some of her Relations were Members of the Parliament, to whom ●he recommended h●r Husband's Business; in the m●an t●●e my ●a her caused my Brother and me to ●alk u● i●●o his: When we were come before him, 〈◊〉 s●ood some time without speaking one word; at length. My Children, (said he) I am not ignorant ●f what is designed to be done in my House during 〈◊〉 a●s●nce; I know, Ferdinand, that your Perseverance will be tr●ed; you are walking in a Path in ●hich many Persons have fallen, and the falls of most ●ave proved deadly; they will promise' you Moun●●ns and Miracles, but know that Temporal advantages as well as Eternal Richeses are in God's disposal. ●bove all, I advice you to humble yourself before ●im, begging him to instruct, assist and maintain ●ou, by the invincible force of his Holy Spirit.  
My Brother answered with a modest boldness, Father, said he, God hath vouchsafed me to enjoy the ●●ght by your means, and I believe he'll give me the Grace to imitate you in your Perseverance; and give ●●e leave to say, that though you should be to me ●n example of Weakness as you are now of Constancy, I would not longer follow your Example, that 〈◊〉 might follow those of my Ancestors. Yes, my Son, 〈◊〉 replied my Father) if God so far forsake me, I ●●eely permit you, not only not to follow me, but also to hate me; but the Spirit of God assures me, ●hat this shall neither be mine nor your Case, and in ●his Hope I beg the Lord to bless you. Immediately my Father went into his Closet, and brought ●ut a Sword of Damascus' Metal, whose Handle was enriched with Stones, but it's greatest Preciousness lay in the Excellency of the Steel whereof it was made. After my Blessing, said he, this is the richest Present that I can make you, 'tis my Sword, and it hath been the Sword of your Grandfather, and great Grandfather, with which they have gloriously served the true Religion and the King, and have bathed it in the Blood of the Enemies of the Faith and of the State; and I also have made some use of it with good success in my time. Hereupon my Brother fell on his Knees, and my Father drawing the Sword out of its Scabbard, said to him, I now give you this Sword on the same Conditions on which I received it, viz. That you never use it but in the Service of God and the King, your Master and lawful Sovereign: Fellow not the Course of those Teporizers and base Politicians, who abandon our poor Churches; maintain them to the utmost of your power, and if they perish, perish with them: But the Lord of Hosts grant that it may prospero in your hands, and that it may be as honourably delivered into the Hands of your Children, as it hath been into mine, and as I have delivered it into yours. Hereupon he struck him a soft blow with the flat side of the Sword on the Arm, and putting it up into the Scabbard, delivered it to him, and abliged him to arise. My Brother after having received it, drew it once again, and kissing the middle of the Blade, laid it on the ground, and falling again on his Knees, said to my Father, After the two Presents which you, Sir, have made me, you have no reason to be surprised if I want words wherewith to thank you; suffer me therefore to embrace your Knees, but my Father raising him from the ground, embraced him, and afterwards gave him some Advice relating to his Behaviour.  
I was present when all these things passed, and was much affected with them. My Father fixing ●is Eyes on me, said to me, Be not jealous of the Present I have made your Brother. I love my Brother too well (said I) to envy him the Favour you are pleased to show him. I'll give you also my Blessing and a Present, replied my Father, which 〈◊〉 esteem no lesle than that I have bestowed on your Brother; and immediately gave me a very curious Picture, drawn in small, representing a Woman who ●n her time was an admirable Beauty, the Box also ●n which 'twas kept was set with Diamonds. This (continued he) was the Picture of my Mother, who was in her Life an Example of Virtue and Piety, and 〈◊〉 hope you will imitate a Grandmother of such great Merit: I must tell you this of her, that she was Edutated in the Romish Religion as you have been, by ●n Aunt that brought her up, yet God having given ●er a penetrating Spirit, she easily distinguished the Truth from Lies. I hope Daughter (added he) ●hat you will imitate her more ways than one, and ●hat what I give you is well bestowed. I intended ●o have fallen on my Knees to have received this Gift with the greatest Respect, as my Brother had done, but my Father perceiving my Design, would not suffer it, but embraced me most tenderly, gave me his Blessing and some serious Advice.  
Immediately after this Mystery was finished, my Mother entered the Chamber, and pleasantly seemed ●o blame my Father with having fallen into the same ●ault for which he had accused her, in not being ●ble to part with his Children. My Father made ●s though he had not heard her, and said to her, Will ●ou Madam, that I take my leave of you this Night ●r to Morrow Morning: To Morrow Morning, said ●y Mother, for we'll Breakfast with you before you go: Be it so, answered my Father. Thus he left ●is House, to give my Mother the opportunity of do●ing what he very well knew, though he seemed to be ignorant of it.  
My Father was not a Mile of, when my Mother sent for her Confessor, who whilst my Mother, my Brother, and myself, were in the Garden, came to us. Brother, said I, look well to yourself, I doubt you will hardly be able to hold out against an ol● Man, who hath spent his Days in Disputations an● Books. Why should I not be able to do it? (replied my Brother;) David who was but a Youth, an● had nothing but a Sling and Stones, smote dow● Goliath, who was a Giant completely armed. Thi● one Example is not enough to make a Rule, said I 'tis a rare thing for the weak to overcome the strong but 'tis very ordinary for the strong to vanquish th● weak.  
My Brother would have answered me, but the Jesuit prevented him, by coming to salute him; ther● were abundance of Civilities passed between them and the Father who was well skilled in Flattery, spak● the most obliging things in the World to my Brother, who returned a modest Answer: But whe●● his turn came, he fell upon the Praises of the Father in so curious a manner, that the Jesuit judged from that time, that his Conversion would co●● him more Pains than he at first imagined. My Mother seeing that the Place in which we were, wa● not proper for our Discourse, caused us to enter 〈◊〉 little Summer-house, in which were Seats, and a Table of Slate: She placed herself on the one side with the Jesuit and my Brother, and I on the other. This was the Order of our sitting in this famous Conference.  
My Mother, as soon as we were settled in our Places, addressed herself to the Jesuit; Father▪ said she to him, here's my Son, whom I bring to you, as a sick Man to the Physician, for the recovery of his Health. I believe (said my Brother) 〈◊〉 am not sick in mind, and as for my Body, I am as you see, by the Grace of God very well. Ther● is no Distemper, said the Jesuit, more dangerous or contagious than Heresy, which entirely infects the ●est Spirits, and hurries them in●o Damnation. I ●nderstand your meaning, said my Brother; you would prove that I am fallen into this horrible sickness of the Soul, viz. Heresy, and would have me b●l●●ve that you are able to deliver me from it, by bringing me over to your Party. As for the former, I can't see how you dare call me Heretic; D● I believe any thing that is not conformable to ●he Holy Scripture, or that is Condemned by it? Neither I nor any o●her of the Reformed could ever be Convicted of this.  
You must not think (said the Father) that Heretics are only such whose Sentiments are Condemned by the Scripture, but also such as forsake the ●aith of the Church; for the Church is the Sovereign Judge of Heretics, and the Scripture is a ●ead thing which Heretics wrist, giving it what ●ense best agrees with their own Fancy, and out of ●hich they sometimes take Pillars to support their ●ost pernicious Opinions. But as for the Church, 〈◊〉 is living, it makes Orders and explains them her ●elf, and whoever departs from the Foundations ●hich she hath laid, is an Heretic, and out of the ●ay o● Salvation.  
I see Father, said my Brother, that you are of the opinion of all Roman Catholic Doctors, and that ●e Holy Scripture not being favourable to you, ●ou will not accept of it as a Judge, but will ravish ●s Authority from it, to give it to your Traditions, ●hich after all are nothing else but men's Inventions.  
Hereupon the Jesuit made a long Discourse of traditions, and the unwritten Word; he endeavoured to prove that the Scripture was not perfect, and 〈◊〉 this end quoted the Scripture against itself; Je●●s wrought many Miracles which are not written in this ●●ok; and again, There are many thing which J●sus did, which had they been all Written, I suppose the World itself could not contain the Books that should be written: Hence he passed to the Citation of the Ancient Doctors of the Church, as Tertallian, Cyprian, Hierom, and divers others: He proceeded so far as to say, that the Church was above the Scripture, whose Books are only Authentic, said he, because she hath declared them so; from whence he came to draw this Conclusion from the Principle he had lai● down, That if the Church had Power to Authorise a Doctrine, to distinguish it from what is Apocryphal or Profane, and to give it all its Force and Virtue, much more hath she a right to interpret it, and therefore there needs no other Interpretation of th● Scripture than what is found in the Church. Th● Father urged so many Arguments to prove what h● said, that I cannot remember them, but as for m● Brother's Answer, which I heard with a great de● of Pleasure, and which he afterwards gave me in Manuscript, so that I often read it, I have it now almo●● by heart.  
Father, said he to the Jesuit, you have spoke● as much as you please, nor have I at all interrupte● you in your Discourse; I now beg the same Liberty I protest (said he) against all the things that yo● have said, and maintain that those Holy Book● i● which the Word of God is written, are the foundations of Salvation; and the Church ought to dra● all its Instructions out of this Fountain, as having i● themselves and of themselves sufficient Authority 〈◊〉 decide all Differences and Controversies. I shall sa● more, that the Scripture carries with it its sole an● true Interpretation, which 'tis not lawful to seek an● where else: This, Father, I intent to prove by Authority, History and Reason, after which you m●● draw what Conclusion you please.  
God himself speaks thus in Deuteronomy: You sh●● add nothing to the Word that I have Commanded y●● neither shall you take away any thing from it: All that I ●a●e Commanded you, you shall observe to do it; you shall 〈◊〉 and nor take away any thing. Certainly these ●●e terrible Words, and hath not your Church acted against them? the Doctors of the Church of Rome ●ave just Cause to hung their Heads and to be cover●● with shame and confusion, when they see that ●●eir Predecessors had added not only one jota, not 〈◊〉 single Article, but a Third Table to the Law of ●od, and have composed a fifth Gospel, and for one ●●gle Passage have Canonised such Books as are apocryphal, and contrary to the Holy Spirit; but let 〈◊〉 hear how this Divine Spirit expresseth itself in St. 〈◊〉; He whom God sent, declared the Words of God, 〈◊〉 God gave him not his Spirit by Measure. And Je●●s Christ saith in the same Place, I receive not Wit●●ss from Men; which Passage as a Canonshot overturns at once all that can be said in favour of Traditions: See also what our Lord saith after Isaiah the prophet; This People draweth nigh unto me with their ●●uth, and honours me with their lips, but their heart is 〈◊〉 from me: In vain do they worship me, teaching for doctrines the Traditions of Men; which shows, that 'tis ●●t only now that Men endeavour to bring Traditi●●s into the Church, but they have always been re●●ted. I remember that I have read an excellent ●ord in the Proverbs on this Subject; All the Word 〈◊〉 God is pure, 'tis a Buckier to all that hope in it; ●●d not to this Word, lest the Lord reprove thee, and ●●u be jound a Lyar. And what will you (Gentle●●n) who are Advocates for Tradition, say to that ●●atbema of St. Paul, who Writing to the Galathians, ●●th, If we or any other Preach any other Gospel than ●●at we have preached, let him be Anathema? Must 〈◊〉 say here that the Doctors of the Church have ●●eater power than St. Paul had, for they Preach 〈◊〉 other Gospel than this great Apostle of the Nati●●s did? 'Tis in vain to pretend that St. Paul Anathematizeth such as preach a contrary Gospel, for he only saith, Another Gospel; that is to say, a different Gospel, as those do who relate Miracles, and ascribe them to Jesus Christ, although we found n● mention at all of them in the Gospels. In fine, St● Peter whom you qualify with the Title of Prince o● the Apostles, and to whom you pretend the Lor● gave a supreme Authority, saith, that The Prophe●● came not of old time by the Will of Man, but holy men 〈◊〉 God spoke as they were moved by the Holy Ghost. This Father, is express, this is clear and plain, and th●● great Apostle was persuaded that what was pronounced by the Holy Spirit, could not be Authorised by men, as some pretend to give Authority 〈◊〉 the Scriptures, by their Glosses and Approb●tions.  
'Tis notoriously evident, that the Apostle neve● believed, that 'twas lawful for men, how many, ho● Learned and Wise soever they were, to add to t●● Scripture; and certainly, if the Doctors have th● Privilege, the Apostles who were the Basis an● Pillars of the Church, had a far better pretence 〈◊〉 it; yet they never claimed it, but looked on such a● Attempt as both impious and sacrilegious. Ho● guilty than are such, who coming after the Apostles, and having neither the Dignity nor the Measure of the Spirit which the Apostles had, have 〈◊〉 made bold to carry their follies into the Sanctuary and join human Imaginations to the Holy Word 〈◊〉 God There's no Man in the World who is able 〈◊〉 keep Servants, that will suffer them to add to, 〈◊〉 take from his Commands as they please; and yet m● thinks you would have us believe that God did 〈◊〉 well mind all that he ought to have said for our Savation; and that in his Law he forgot some Article which he afterwards left to men's good Intentions Is this, Father, to be suffered? The Holy Spi●●● saith, that All the Wisdom of Man is but folly b●●● God; that God hath confounded it: And yet God it ●ems suffers this human Wisdom to interpret and ●●d Traditions to his Word, and to judge sovereignly of it.  
There are no Doctors in the World, how Learned ●ever they are, that can show a reason for all the perfumes, Sacrifices, and Purifications, which are at ●●ge expressed in the Ceremonial Law, and yet ●●●se are but the smallest matters: How than can ●●e who are utterly in the dark about the lest things ●●●●ch God hath commanded, presume to dispose 〈◊〉 ●h●se that are the greatest? For the Roman Church published these Traditions only to enlarge her Pow●●, and so establish what she pleased; for having ●●●●●n this Point, she built an Infinity of things upon 〈◊〉: for she disposeth of the Habitations of souls af●●r Death, puts a price upon their Punishments, ●●ts Salvation to sale, and offers Paradise to him ●●at bids most for it; and all this, because forsooth it pleaseth us, and we have thus invented 〈◊〉; we must have the Holy Scriptures, spite of them, confirm and ratify.  
The Disproportion between the sublimity and excellency of the Holy Scriptures, and the weakness 〈◊〉 our understandings, is so great, that we can found ●othing in the World to parallel it: Canst thou by ●a●ching found out God? canst thou found out the Almighty 〈◊〉 p●r●●tion? It is higher than Heaven, what canst 〈◊〉 know? it is deeper than Hell, what canst thou do? ●his is spoken in the Book of Job, concerning Di●●ne Providence; I may say the same thing of the ●ord of God, which we ought not to pretend to perpetrate, much lesle to judge of it.  
I have often been astonished at that Impudence and Blasphemy, which our Enemies are guilty ●f, in saying that the Word of God is not perfect. 〈◊〉 will only produce two Examples to show its perfection, the one taken from the Law of Rigour, the other from the Law of Grace. The first are t●● Ten Commandments contained in two Table● the second is the Lords Prayer, contained in six Articles. What Man amongst all the Church of M●● durst pretend to authorise this? For we plainly s● that God alone could be the Author of such a wor● and that were all the ●●gislators of the World together, they could never have composed a Law, co●sisting only of Ten words, and comprehending all t●● sins of the World. And all the Doctors of the U●● verse together could never have composed a Pra●er, in which in six Articles are contained all the D●sires that can enter into a reasonable Soul; and wh● ever heard that the greater received his Authori●● from the lesle?  
I know you'll pled that the Church is inspired 〈◊〉 the Spirit of God, and therefore may judge wh● Books are Canonical, and what are not: But Father that which you call the Church is not always a●● mated with the Divine Spirit; and though it we●● yet this would not prove her Power of judging t●● Holy Scriptures sovereignly, so as that there shou●● be no Appeal from her Judgement; the Spirit 〈◊〉 not given her for this end, but that she may w●● reverence submit herself to them. The Spirit● given her properly to prevent private persons fro● judging whether a book be Authentic or not, s● in this case we must submit to the Judgement of th● Church, who distinguisheth the Books that were dictated by the Spirit of God from those which m●● would add to them, which are called Apocrypha●● and which she rejects. This is all the Authori●● which the Church can have; nor must we ascribe to her a power of adding to the Scriptures, but o●ly of teaching the People which are Canonical an● with that of our Parliaments, who receive the Le●ters-Patents of his Majesty, and know his signi●● ●●d Seals; they publish them abroad to be really ●●e Kings Letters, and they declare their contents to ●●e People. But they do not compose them, they 〈◊〉 not sign or seal them, they dare not add any ●●ing to them, whether contrary or different: But ●●me men do that with respect to God, which no ●●uncil durst do to its Prince.  
Tell me, Father, cannot Goldsmith's distinguish ●●ld from Copper? yet they cannot make Gold to 〈◊〉 Gold, for 'tis so already of its own Nature, with●●t their assistance. They may indeed mix Siver 〈◊〉 Led with Gold, but they can never make this ●●ver to become true Gold, because mixed with it. ●hus the Church may indeed know what is the true ●●ld, the real Word of God, and what is not; but ●e cannot make a new Word of God: Men may ●o compose Writings, and have Impudence enough 〈◊〉 add them to the Word of God; yet it doth not ●low that by so doing they give them the Character 〈◊〉 the Word of God.  
They preach amongst you, Father, with a great ●al of earnestness, that the Church gives Authority 〈◊〉 the Scriptures, and consequently that she must 〈◊〉 above them, so as to have Power to add her traditions to the sacred Writings: But when all's ●●ne, the Church hath only Authority to declare 〈◊〉 the People, that what is called the Holy Scrip●●e is indeed the Word of God: for as Gold would 〈◊〉 cease to be Gold, though there should be none 〈◊〉 say this is Gold, so the Holy Scripture would not ●se to be the Word of God, and Authentic, though ●ere were not Church to tell men, that this Word ●●ich you read is the Word of God. Moreover I say, ●●t the Canon of the Holy Scripture being owned ●●d declared in the first Councils, we ought with●●t any hesitation or difficulty to receive their de●minations; nor are we to question in the Church ●●e Authority of the Holy Scripture, but to submit ourselves to its Decrees, which are Truth and Righteousness its self:  
Indeed Father, if the Church hath Power 〈◊〉 judge sovereignly of the Doctrine contained in th● Holy Scriptures, it must be supposed that in th● Church there are, and always wil● be men that are 〈◊〉 full of the Holy Ghost as those that wrote these sacred Books, which is utterly false; for the weakness blindness, ignorance and malice of those that oppo●● the Holy Scripture, shows that they have not th● lest spa●k of that Divine Spirit: So that it belong 〈◊〉 not to men 〈◊〉 judge of the Doctrine, or to interpret what is contained in those Hol● Books. If yo● say, that such as have received the Holy Spirit m●● do it: I answer, that all those that have receive● the Holy Spirit in these latter times, show it by submitting themselves humbly to the Word of God.  
But Father, I have other Arguments of great●● force than those already urged; what likelihood 〈◊〉 there that men who know themselves too weak to b● saved, should yet have Power togive Authority to tho●● Books in which are contained the means: of the●● Salvation? hath God who is jealous of his own Glo●● given Men his Word to be abandoned to their Discretion▪ to be controlled and contested, and to hav● what they please added to it? Is it possible, or is 〈◊〉 lawful, that such as are ignorant should judge 〈◊〉 Knowledge? Is it proper for those that are bo●● blind to discourse of the principles of Light? woul● not every Body laugh at them should they attempt it? Much more ridiculous is it for such as are blin● and ignorant, to pretend to judge of the Heaven●● light, and of the sublimest of all sciences.  
Is it not certain Father, that under the Old Testament, God spoke once to his People, but 'twas o●ly to give them his Law; so that this Law being on● given, 'twas not left to the People to add new Poin● to it, but they were obliged to yield obedience to 〈◊〉 'Tis true, the Levites preached this Law to the People, but how did they do it? they consulted the ●aw itself to explain it, without seeking Interpreta●ions in their own Brains, as they do amongst you. And although this unbelleving Nation was often assuaged of the truth of God's Promises, and God had to this End sent them many great Prophets, which ●ere his Ambassadors to bring them word of the coming of the M●ssiah, yet there was never one that ●aid to the People, Do this or that more than the Law ●●●●es: because in itself it is no sufficient Remedy: But ●his was what they said; Keep the Law and the Ordi●●●● w●ich the God o● your Fathers gave to M●s●s his ●●●●ant. These great Men were all extraordinarily ●●sp read, yet they never undertook to contest the 〈◊〉 ●f ●od, nor to forge any new Commandments; 〈…〉 pressed Obedience to the Law only. I say ●●i●●o an●●er those that say, that the same Spirit which spoke by the mouths of those that spoke, and ●●●ded the hands of those that wrote, doth now al●● animate the Doctors of the Catholic Church, ●na●●ing them to pass a right Judgement on the Doctrine of the Faith contained in the Holy Scripture; 〈◊〉 methinks they own the same respect to the Word 〈◊〉 God which the Prophets showed it, who never 〈◊〉 touch a thing so sacred, nor ever presumed to 〈◊〉 an● thing new to it.  
I 〈◊〉 say the same thing of the Gospel; God ha●i●● spoken by his Ambassadors, and by them re●●cal d his Will to the People, hath withdrawn his spirit of Revelation as well as the Power of working ●●●a●les, and ●ath left us only the Spirit of Obedience: 〈◊〉 God knew the wicked Disposition of ●●n too ●●ll, to leave him the liberty of diminishing, adding, or changing what he pleased. 'Tis cer●●●, that though there a e many Heresies in the ●●●●ld, there would be infinitely more if men had 〈◊〉 to give Authority to t●e Scripture, s●eing they now have salsifyed it, corrupted it, and mad● such Glosses on it as are contradictory to the Text.  
'Tis true Father, the old Church of the Jews ha● a Tradition; Eleazar, Phineas, and all those wh● had been Eye-witnesses of the wonders which Go● had wrought by the hand of Moses, informed the● Children of them; and these things were hande● down from Father to Son, in those Family's th●● kept the true Worship of God: But this Tradition had nothing new in it, nothing more than was contained in the Law and the written Word of God: we●● the Traditions of the Church of Rome of the sam● Nature with respect to the Gospel, they would n●● have been so much disliked as now they are; y●● as men cannot long handle any thing without fouli●● it, the Jews abused this Tradition of their Father and a ided to it their own Inventions: So that 'tw● extremely corrupted in the time of our Lord Jes●● Christ, for which we found that he often blames the● in the Gospel.  
The Catholic Doctors do in my mind exactly imitate the Ancient Rabbins, Scribes, Pharisees, an● Jewish Doctors; and as they boasted that they se●ved God, not merely according to what God ha● ordained in his Law, which they judged too light a matter, and too easy a means to be saved, an● had attained that pitch of Presumption, that the● thought it the greatest perfection to obey God according to their Traditions; so according to th● Doctors of the Church of Rome, 'tis a small matte● to embrace the Gospel, in which many materi●● things were omitted which they have added, an● thereby rendered that work complete, which S● Paul, S. Peter, and all the other Apostles, ye● Christ himself left imperfect. What Impious absu●diry is it, to cry down the Holy Scripture, and proclaim it imperfect, only to give the greater reputation to Traditions!  
My Brother intended not to have ended so soon, Though the Father would often have interrupted ●im: But my Mother, who could not longer dissem●e her displeasure against my Brother, discovered 〈◊〉 by crying out, Must you have all the Discourse? ●ust no Body speak but you? No Madam, (said ●ather Matthew) let him say what he pleaseth, we ●ill answer him afterwards: For my part I seemed sleep during all, this Conference, which lasted from ●oon ●till near four of the Clock, in which my Mo●●er was very well pleased, fearing lest I should ●●ve been taken with my Brother's Discourse; and 〈◊〉 speak ingenuously, I never in all my life heard ●y thing that pleased me better, which (methought) ●●s too learned for my Brother; but I do not much ●●nder at it, when I consider his love to Learning, ●e excellency and vivacity of his Parts, and the ●re my Father took to get them improved. Thus, ●●dies, if I seem more learned than Virgins usually ●e, ascribe it to the Happiness of my Memory, and ●t to the strength of my Judgement.  
The Father believing thereby the better to accom●sh his design on my Brother, told my Mother, that 〈◊〉 would feign discourse with him in private: As ●●ch as you please, said my Brother, and thereupon they both arose, and spent two large hours in ●eir Conference▪ In the mean time my Mother ●●aining in the Summer-house with me, said to 〈◊〉, I●●t possible Justine (said she) ●ha● you should ●ar nothing of the Conference? A little, Madam, answered I) of the Beginning, but I desire not more 〈◊〉 be present at it, because 'tis none of my Business. ●●u have no reason (answered she) to speak ill of 〈◊〉 for methinks you have slept well enough at it. I ●ow not what to think of your Brother, (added she) 〈◊〉 Discourse doth not accord well with the hopes 〈◊〉 had given me; besides, your Father hath, in my ●nd, made him study so hard, as though he intended him for a Minister. Mother, answered 〈◊〉 smiling, my Brother is too good a Soldier to be 〈◊〉 Minister, but Learning doth no injury to any b●● Women, whose brains it hurts.  
I endeavoured by Discourses of this Nature 〈◊〉 all●y my Mother's displeasure against my Brother, 〈◊〉 reason of his freedom of speech, but the return 〈◊〉 the Jesuit spoilt all, who drew my Mother aside and discoursed with her for near half an hour. 〈◊〉 the mean time my Brother gave me an account of th● private Discourse he had had with the Jesuit, whic● he concluded, saying, We shall have a fine ra●●● by and by. Nor indeed was he mistaken, for 〈◊〉 Mother having conducted the Jesuit to the Gate 〈◊〉 our house, returned immediately to us, with a Contenance that bespoke Fury. Her face was successi●ly read and pale. I trembled to see her in this P●sture, but her words much increased my displeasure. Let us go into the house, Justine (said sh● and I forbidden you ever more to discourse with yo● Brother; and I forbidden you, Ferdinand, ever to co●● into my Presence as long as I live; you have unhappily deceived me, and this is the lest punishment that your treachery against me deserveth.  
Though these were very bloody reproaches, y●● my Brother seemed not much surprised at the● but without answering a word, respectfully reti●e●● The same Evening he lodged at a Farm, which belonged to my Father, about a League from us, 〈◊〉 spent most of the next day in Hunting, not retu●ing to our Castle till the Evening, to play a Stra●g●m which had good Success.  
My Mother when the first brush of her Anger 〈◊〉 over, began to be troubled for her Emportme●● for the Affection she had for her Son was so stro●● that it soon got the Victory-over all other Passion Do you kno●, said she, what your Brother dot● he went hence on Horseback, with a Servant and 〈◊〉 lackey, and they have taken the Dogs with them, 〈◊〉 believe he intends to hunt in the Country. 'Tis ●ery well, (said she) seeming to be much better ●●eased than indeed she was. We supped together without saying any thing one to another, only she continually sighed, and for my part, my head was continually working on variety of subjects.  
I spent this Night in a great deal of Trouble. You may easily imagine that ●twas impossible▪ for one of ●ny Sex, who had entertained so great a Design, that ●as like to have such troublesome Consequences, ●ot to be very much astonished, when I saw myself deprived of all that was my support. My Mother ●ad her disquietudes as well as I; she would feign ●ave had my Brother make application to her first, ●ut she had forced him away, and 'twas not likely ●●at he would expose himself to the danger of a new ●●front, and she judged it a condescension much beneath her to seek after him; she continued in Pain ●●l the day. As for my Brother he returned to our ●astle in the Evening, with his Servant, and instead 〈◊〉 coming into the Dining Room, went immediately 〈◊〉 his own Chamber. My Mother sent me thither as ●e had done the day before, I found him in his ●●amber with his Servant, his Boxes and Males all ●●en, his Linen and  taken out, and he ●●athing himself as though he designed immediately ●r the Army, whilst his Servant assisted with a ●cquey, was packing up such things as he intended 〈◊〉 take with him. Well, said he, as soon as he saw ●e, I was troubled to think how I should take my ●●ve of you, but now you are here 'tis well enough. ●●w Brother, (said I hastily) what do you intent 〈◊〉 do? you'll see that (replied he) by and by. Ah ●id I) will you leave us? And immediately I went ●wn to carry the News to my Mother, towards ●●om I never failed of respect in all my Life till now▪ ●ell Mother, (said I to her) you now see the Effect of your Passion, my Brothers going, what will you say to my Father when he shall require him at your hands, who charged you to keep him with you till his return? You have broken the Promise you made my Father, never to extort his Son to change his Religion, which when you could not prevail on him to do, you have cruelly driven him from your Presence. Ah my Father hath far more religiously kept his Promise, for he never spoke to me of his Religion, or mine.  
My Mother, whilst I uttered these reproaches, seemed rather dead than alive. I should have spoken more bitterly, but she was not in a Capacity o● hearing them. Immediately some came to call me, telling me, that my Brother desired to speak with me. At my return I found his Servant that carried his Mail and Pistols, just about to mount his Horse Friend, (said I) done t make so much haste, stop ti●● I have spoken with your Master. Do what I bid you cried my Brother to his Servant in a seeming Passion: Hereupon I went up into his Chamber, and found him accoutred for his Journey, and that 〈◊〉 only stayed to speak with me. What do you me● Brother (said I) by this Emportment? are you resolved to leave us? be persuaded to change you Mind, I'll make your Peace with my Mother; yo● brag of more than you are able to perform (said 〈◊〉 Brother) with a kind of impatience, I know my Mother too well to hope for so sudden a Change. Yo● know Sister, that I gave her no provocation to spea● what she hath said to me, or to treat me as she ha●● done: But Sister, you see 'tis late, I pray God 〈◊〉 bless you; (added he, embracing me) and not bei●● able to speak a word more, he shook me of from him, who could not hold him, and immediately l●● the Chamber. My Mother who heard him, calle● him, Ferdinand said she, come hither to me. 〈◊〉 presently obeyed her, and my Mother looking 〈◊〉 him, In what Equipage is it that I see you (said she?) ●hither are you going? I am going so far (answered 〈◊〉) that you'll have no reason to fear my coming 〈◊〉 into your presence, or that you'll ever more have your Eyes offended with a fight that's odious ●o you, though I have not deserved to be so. Dare ●ou than (said she) go away without your Father's ●ons●nt. My Father (answered he) will easily par●on me when he knows what moved me to it, and ●ill readily give his Consent that I leave these Parts; ●s for yours, you have given it already, and that in ●●ch a manner as pierceth my very Soul, for you ●ave driven me from your presence with reproaches. 〈◊〉 have therefore nothing more to do in this Castle, ●hich will henceforth be more dreadful than a Prison, seeing I have lost the Affection of my Mother, ●●d it may be the love of my Sister. If you'll grant, ●e one Favour, give me leave to kiss your hand, 'tis ●e last I shall ever ask of you.  
Not, said my Mother, pretending very unseasonably ●●at she was much more displeased than indeed she was●●h Mother (said he) do you refuse me so small a mat●●●? Yet continued he. I beg God to take you always to his Holy Protection, and to inspire you with ●ore tender sentiments for my Sister; but I dare ●ear it will not be thus, and that she will live very miserably with you: Yet Mother, Heaven will one ●y require of you an account of your Children: Ha●●g said this, he embraced me a second time, who ●s not able to speak one word, and having made profound reverence, he withdrew and went down ●o the Court. 'Twas than that my Mother, who ●ing on a large Chair, abandoned herself to her ●ief, being able to say nothing but O my God, ●●at shall I do? You are (said I) one of the happi●● Mothers that live, in having such a Son, and are 〈◊〉 a little time like to become the most miserable ●●d wretched. You know Mother, that you have not done well, why should you refuse him that sma●● Favour of Kissing your Hand? At any other time durst not have spoken so freely, but I was now reduced to that pass, that I did but little value my Mother's Anger. I did not stay for any Answer, b●● ran down into the Court, to use my last Endeavour to stop my Brother: My Mo●ner arose hastily out 〈◊〉 her Chair to the Window, where she saw my Brother on Horseback, fitting his Stirrups, and crier out to the Servants, Shut the Gates, hinder hi● from going. My Brother, as though he had not heard my Mother, said with a menacing Voice, if an● one dares to oppose my Passage, I'll trample him u●der my Horse's Feet. By this time I was come in 〈◊〉 the Court, and laying hold on the Bridle, It shall 〈◊〉 me than (said I) that you shall thus deal with, se●ing I am resolved never to let go my hold. Ha●● Sister, my dear Sister, said he, shedding some Tea● Let these Tears suffice you; Judge you whether can possibly remain in this Castle. In the m●an ti●● my Mother came down into the Court herself, 〈◊〉 Face covered with Tears, forgetting all her Rese●ments; Are you not very unnatural, Ferdinand, s●● she, to leave me for a Word I spoke to you in 〈◊〉 Passion? God's my Witness (said he) that I le●●● you with the greatest regret in the World; but M●ther, you have very unjustly driven me away only 〈◊〉 speaking according to my Conscience.  
'Twas on this delicate Point that this agreea●● Narrative was Interrupted by the Master of the Sh●● who obliged us to go to Supper; for these sort 〈◊〉 Men do not abound with Complaisance. We wai●● for the next Morning with a great deal of Impatien●● but the Consideration we had for Madamoiselle de 〈◊〉 Phale, made us vanquish our Curiosity.   

CHAP. III.  
THe next Morning, as soon as Madamoiselle de St. Phale, and the rest of our Company were met together, she continued her History in this manner. 〈◊〉 left of last Night at the Answer which my Brother returned my Mother. If you, continued he, would ●ot have had me answer the Father Matthew, you ●ould have told me so, and than I would have been ●●nt; but you gave me liberty to speak freely, be●eving that he would easily stop my Mouth, but he ●iled of this, and I made good my Ground against ●im, and this is all my Crime. 'Tis only for this ●●at you reproach me with having deceived you, and betrayed you; 'tis for this, that you have forbidden ●e your Presence, and all Discourse with my Sister, 〈◊〉 though I were the greatest Criminal in the World. ●nd indeed, Mother, 'tis for ever that I leave you, ●●at I lea●e this Land, that I renounce all my Pre●nsions in France, of which I now take an eternal farewell. Grant me only the Favour of kissing your ●and, which I cannot forbear to beg, though you ●ave already refused it me. My Mother fell not now ●●●o the fault she had committed before, but held ●●●th her hand, saying, My Son, you have over●●me me; May not she who hath driven you away, ●ll you back? Is it not possible for me to soften ●our hard Heart? Intent you to seek a Reparation 〈◊〉 your Honour on her that bore you, or would ●ou have her beg your Pardon on her Knees? She ●●d hardly finished these words before my Brother ●●pt of his Horse, cast himself at my Mother's Feet, ●●dewed them with his Tears, and embraced them, without being able to say any thing; but my Mother ●on raised him from the ground, and embraced him. All those of the Family that were in the Court could not forbear Weeping any more than we that were immediately concerned. We thought that the whole business had been at an end, and I who had all the while held the Horse by the Bridle, delivered it to a Servant, commanding him to return it to the Stable: Stop, cried my Brother; Why so? said my Mother; what means this? I must, answered he, either leave this House for ever, or the Father must; choose which of us two you will retain, and which you will banish.  
You urge me too far, Ferdinand, said my Mother, altering both her Voice and Countenance: Insolent that you are, dare you propose that I drive away my Confessor? you abuse my▪ tenderness and tears but you shall not always abuse them: And I, said my Brother, should I not leave a Mother that p●●● no difference between a pernicious Jesuit and a●●●●dient Son? Ah! I have stayed too long in this House, said he, as he remounted his Horse. Fo● my part, I despaired of any agreement, when I saw how my Mother dealt with him, and therefore I 〈◊〉 go my hold in the Bridle. Go Brother, said I, your resentment is just, be gone from the Place where you are so unworthily treated, for my part I'll no● be long behind you, I'll soon be in a Convent. N●● Sister. (said he) do you stay to be a Comfort 〈◊〉 my Father; It may be my Mother becoming sensible of her fault, will not deal with the Daughter a● she hath dealt with the Son. Farewell my Friends said he to the Waiting-Gentlewomen, and Serving Men and Maids, and Lackeys, who all fallen on their Knees before the Horse, and made so lamentable 〈◊〉 cry, that I never heard any like it; for my Brothe● was very well beloved. Be gone, Children, (said he) I should be sorry to hurt you now, having never do●● you ought but good; my Horse may chance to injure some of you. Be gone, (said I in a Passion) would you have my Brother stay to be daily affronted, whilst a damnable Jesuit is here absolute Master?  
When I spoke these Words, my Mother earnestly looked upon me with Eyes that discovered that her Soul was divided between two contrary and violent Passions. She called me to her, and I, though I doubted not but that she would deal severely with me, yet went to her. Justine, (said she) I Pardon what you have said, but Counsel me, What shall I do? I do not hesitate between your Brother and the Confessor, as though I knew not which to choose, but Daughter, I know no Confessor alive can better direct me in the way of Salvation than this Father can: On the other side the Voice of Conscience and Nature make me most cruel Reproaches for suffering my Son to departed for so slight a matter. I will not advice you Mother, (said I) but if you please I'll whisper my Brother what you say, it may be it may win upon him. Do (said she) what you think fi●. My Brother came the second time of his Horse, and went to my Mother, and discoursed with her in private, none being admitted to hear it but myself.  
You know Son (said she) how delicate I am in what regards Conscience, you would have me to banish immediately either my Confessor or you: I would sa●n keep you both: But, Ferdinand, you will have me declare my Resolution: The Voice of Nature pleads for you, and the Voice of Conscience for the Father. Advice me what to do, Ferdinand; I have asked your Sister's Advice, but she refuseth to give it me; speak to me as a disinteressed Person, as though you were not concerned, and speak rather as a Friend than as a Son. Mother, replied he, to conform myself to your Will, I shall tell you, that in the general 'tis better to hear and obey the Voice of Conscience than that of Nature; but as it often happens that Conscience is guided by pr●●dice rather than Justice, ●o 'tis often more safe to hear the Voice of Nature than that of Conscience.  
To come to the Father Matthew, you would retain him because he seems necessary for the Direction of your Conscience. Certainly the Condition of Men must be very miserable. when they believe that their Salvation depends on the W●ll of certain men▪ and on the Caresses that they make them. There are s●me ●ick People over whose Spirits-their Ph●sitians have gotten such an absolute Empire, that they believe their Life or Death lies in their hands▪ We may justly term such Physicians as these the Tyrants of the Sick, as we may most Confessors the Tyrants of the Conscience. The Father Matthew is one of those, he hath got the ascendant of your mind, so that you receive his save as so many Oracles, and you are afraid of falling out with him, because you imagine him to be God's great Friend and Favourite.  
But Mother, (continued he) if you will give me leave to speak, your Conscience ought not to be entangled for a man who himself hath no Conscience at all. For besides that be is a Jusuite, which very word contains a multitude of mischiefs: Was it not he that suggetted part of what you said to me, and advised you to banish me your Presence? To sow Discord between a Mother and her Son is the true Work of the Devil; so that Mother, you will found, that your Conscience, if you will Consult it as you ought, will exhort you to rid your Hands of so dangerous a Person: And if you'll be advised by me, take for a Confessor one that is no Jesuit, for these Gentlemen are never satisfied till they have imposed an intolerable Yoke on men's Consciences, which is all the good Fruit of your Auricular Confessions; because knowing all that a Person doth or thinks, 'tis easy for them to turn him to their Pleasure, and to 〈◊〉 on him what burdens they think fit.  
Whether my Mother was really convinced by my D●●●●●ers Arguments, or only seemed to be so, is un●●r 〈◊〉; yet she promised my Brother to turn of the Father Matthew, and at the sa●●e time sent to h●m to acquaint him with this Resolution. In the m●●●n time we: ●●turned to the House. where as soon 〈◊〉 ●●y Brother had plucked of his Boots, he came to 〈…〉 Mother who knew no bounds either of Ha●●●● or ●ove, caresled my Brother at such a rate as 〈◊〉 escape his Expectations: And as for you, 〈…〉 she to me, I remember all that you have ●ind, and methinks you ought rather to have taken 〈…〉 your Mother than with your Brother; but I 〈…〉 you for his sake.  
During all the Supper my Brother entertained my ●●●●her with Discourse concerning the Mischiefs wrought by Confessore in familys, Cities and Kingdoms. I 〈◊〉 Confes● said he, that the Confession of Sins and Infirmities in the Ears of a Priest was 〈◊〉 in the P●●●●●tive Church, but 'twas abolished al●●st throughout all the East by Nectarius, Patriarch of ●or●●●●●●e, because of a Deacon, who hearing the Confessions of a young Widow, and knowing 〈◊〉 Infirmities, took occasion thence to seduce her: Nor is there any reason to doubt, but a Woman who discovers all her sins and Passions to a Priest, is in a ready way to be seduced by him. On the other hand, Confessions serve to draw what the Priest will cut of Families for the Building of Religious Houses, and the singing of Masses, and many other things of the like Nature, as also the Prying into the secrets of Kings, which the Confessors use for their own adver●ge. My Mother was well enough satisfied of the Truth of what my Brother said: if you will Mother, added he, follow my Advice, though I am your Son, and of a contiary Religion, Never make any Jesuit your Confessor more, but content yourself with the Curate, as many others, who have tried both, have at last done.  
Here the Discourse of Mademoiselle de St. Phale was interrupted by the coming of several Gentlemen into the Room where the Conversation was held, she not being willing to give an Account of her Life before so many witnesses.   

CHAP. IU.  
ALL the Company whom Mademoiselle de St. Phale honoured with the History of her Life, being again met, she thus continued her Relation.  
My Brother's Discourse had made such Impression on my Mother, that she was almost persuaded to make choice of another Confessor. And had he but pursued his design, he had certainly accomplished it; But Love, which at this time seized on his heart, made him neglect so advantageous an Enterprise, and the Consequence of this Neglect proved very mischievous and fatal, and hath forced me out of France.  
My Father having in fifteen days finished his business at Dijon to his satisfaction, wrote us the day on which he resolved to leave that place, and our Castle being but three good days Journeys from it, we expected him on the fourth: But he neither coming than, nor the fifth, nor the sixth, nor the seventh, my Mother and I began to be very much concerned, and my Brother resolved to ride to seek him. But on the eighth day, my Brother having road out Early in the Morning, we saw both him and my Father enter the Court about Noon, at which we very much rejoiced; and I leave it to you judge, whether for my part I had not reason, considering the dispositions of my Spirit. After our Caresses were over, my Mother desired to know the Cause of his stay. He told her that at Dijon he had met with one of his old Acquaintance in the Army, who living but a short days journey from Dijon, and being better acquainted with the ways than I were, said my Father, undertook to be my Guide, and in one day we came to his Castle, and he earnestly pressed me to lodge there, which at length with some regrett I comented to: He seeing that I were somewhat unwilling to stay with him, said, I'll show you somewhat that you have seen before, and which you will not be troubled to see again. The Castle was well seated, adorned and furnished, so that I was much pleased at the sight of it. This is not, said Monsieur De Roche Blanch, (for so was this Gentleman named) What I intent to show you; and being informed that his Wife was in the Garden, and desiring to surprise her before the had any notice of our coming, we went thither together.  
We found her in a Walk that had Maples on both sides of it, with her Son, and three of her Daughters. I confess I was much surprised to see her so fresh and beautiful, having Children which were marriageable, but much more when I saw somewhat in her Face, that I seemed, I had seen before. For her part, she beh●ld me with the same attention, and it may be with the same surprise. Monsieur de Roche Blanch, laughed hearty to see us viewing each other with a profound filence, which at length my Father broke: Monsieur de Roche Blanch, said he, had reason to promise' me to show me that which I should never tepent having seen. The Lady answered that Gallantry with a great deal of Civility, and her Husband, after having sufficiently entangled both of them by this Interview, and diverted himself, resolved to tell each of them, who the other was. Ah Sir, said he to my Father, is it possible that you have forgotten Mademoiselle de Grassans, and you Madam, Monsieur De Ponsins, (which was my Father's Name in his Youth, and my Brothers also, which he left but eight or nine months since, to take that of Ombreval.) These words awakened both Mademoiselle De Roche Blanch and my Father out of their surprise, so that presently knowing one another, they began to embrace and Compliment each other; but my Father was interrupted by the Civilities of the Son and Daughter of Monsieur De Roche-Blanche.  
To explain this Mystery, you must know, that my Father during the Wars in Catalonia, where he performed his first feats of Arms, being in his Winter Quarters, fell acquainted with Madamoiselle de Grassans, who was than one of the most Eminent Personages of the Religion in all Guyenne, and who, not to speak of her great Estate, had without dispute a perfect Beauty, with other wondered Qualities above her Sex. My Father loved her, and it may be his Love would have been accepted if this Lady had not disposed of her Heart before to a Man of great merit. Yet she still retained a great deal of Esteem and Friendship for my Father; which length of time could not destroy, as she had often told her husband, who knowing how acceptable it would be to her, brought my Father to his house, to renew this Ancient Friendship. For although monsieur de Roche-Blanche was of Poiton, yet he came to live in Burgundy, because of a great Estate which his Uncle had left him, who made him his Heir. And the reason why my Father and he were not acquainted, as Gentlemen use to be, especially when they are of one Religion, was because they they had both changed their Names.  
My Father was nobly entertained in this house four days, nor was this Journey without any effect, for he was so much taken with the Son and Daughter of monsieur de Roche-Blanche, that he resolved on somewhat in their favour, which yet he did not declare, ●●ause he expected to see them at his own house; 〈◊〉 M●●●si●●r de Roche-Blanche resolved in a short time 〈◊〉 a Kinswoman, whose Lands were but two 〈◊〉 from ours, and to carry his Son and Daughter 〈◊〉 him▪ and at their return promised to be with us.  
My Brother, in a short time was more in favour 〈◊〉 my Mother than ever, and was still urging her 〈◊〉 c●ange her Confessor. I had also now much more 〈◊〉 than before, for I spent whole days in my Father Closet, who fully persuaded me to renounce 〈◊〉 Romish Superstitions, in which he proved unan●●rably there was the greatest Folly and Impiety; ●●d seeing that I delighted much in reading, would 〈◊〉 give me the Key of his Closet, where I used to ●ad whole days together, in the Books of Martyrs, 〈◊〉 Mother thinking all the while that I played at ●●ess with my Father and Brother, which indeed I sometimes did. The Book of Martyrs fixed me in 〈◊〉 design of embracing the reformed Religion.  
My Father perceiving me very earnest one day in 〈◊〉 reading of this Book, said to me, You may there 〈◊〉 admirable Examples of Constancy, not only in Men 〈◊〉 Age and Resolution, but God hath also perfected ●s Praise in the weakness of Women and Children. ●●oung Virgins, such as you now are, who it may be ●●ve been more tenderly educated than you have ●●en, and of higher Quality, have joyfully endured ●●e most cruel Deaths; neither the heat of Flames ●or the sharpness of Swords could overcome the magnanimity of their Hearts: Would you, were you ●●lled to it, be as constant as those Young worthy ●adies were? Father, answered 〈◊〉, I confess I look ●pon Death as somewhat most dreadful and horrible, specially a Death in the midst of Flames; and there's 〈◊〉 Heart so Generous, or Spirit Philosophical, but ●ust needs tremble at the thoughts of such a Punishment: 'Twas not therefore by their own strength that these young Virgin's conquered Death and all 〈◊〉 horrors, but by the Assistance of the Holy Spiri● so that Father, said I, how weak and fearful soe●●● I am, yet I firmly trust in our Lord, that if he c●ll 〈◊〉 to such sufferings, he'll give me strength to overco●● them all. Yes, my Daughter, answered he, yo● reply is very good, for we have seen that most lea●●ed Doctors and Bishops have basely fallen, when po●● Peasants, Women and Children have stood it out. Forth former presuming too much on themselves, and the● own strength, being left to themselves have falle● whereas the others trusting only on their Saviour have been maintained and strengthened, because the● were built upon a rock.  
'Tis good, continued he, to be prepared for the mo●● cruel sufferings; for besides that when we are prepare● for the greatest evils, we shall found them lesle, and mo●● tolerable when they are come upon us, than we imagined; we shall also be thereby the better enabled 〈◊〉 bear those lesser evils, which would appear very gre●● and dreadful if they found us unprepared. I foresee th●● you will be exposed to great temptations, you will be attacked on the one hand by the Flatteries, Caresses a●● Tears of a Mother that loves you, and on the oth●● hand by the Persecutions of your Relations, Misery's Imprisonment, or Banishment, and it may be De●●● itself, for all these things are the Lot of new Converts. You will leave those Crosses of Gold, Silve● Wood and Stone which you now adore, to bear th●● true Cross of the Lord, the Afflictions and Reproaches of this World. I hope, said I, that God wh●● hath wrought in me this Holy Desire, will not lea●● his work imperfect, but will carry it on to his Glo●●● and my Salvation. This was all the Conversation w●●● had at that time, only my Father told me, that 〈◊〉 wished that he could discourse with me again abo●● these things, but added, that he could not be able 〈◊〉 do it so soon as he desired; for, said he, I am co●●●ned for your Welfare more ways than one. Here●●on● withdrew, without making any reflection on ●ese last words. The mean while the time passed ●●ay very insensibly, till the day came, which to 〈◊〉 proved very fatal.  
One day the Wether being very fair, my Father ●●d Mother went to walk in the Garden, and invited ●●y Brother and me to accompany them, which we ●●d; and as my Father and Mother were discour●●g of some new Knots and ●eds to be made in the ●●●rden, we not much minding this discourse, left ●●em, and went to walk in some of the shaded Al●●s; and after having talked of divers things, the heat ●●o●ing insupportable, we went towards a Summerhouse that stood at the lower end of the Garden, ●hich my Father had been very careful to adorn ●●th variety of curious Pictures, and in one Frame ●●ere was my Brother's Picture in the habit of a War●or, and mine in that of an Amazon; nor could any Pictures be more exactly drawn than these were. We ●ere just about to have entered the house, when we ●eard two Persons discoursing together, but their ●oice was unknown to us. Our Curiosity led us to harken, and we immediately heard the voice of a ●●an saying, Don't you remember the Painter that ●●dged at our house, that told us he had drawn Monster de Ponsins, and Madamoiselle de St. Phale, like a Warrior and an Amazon? What say you, Sister, of ●hese Eyes, of this Mouth, of the Majestic air of all ●he Countenance? If your liberty (answered a most charming voice) be lost by the sight of a Picture, what will become of you when you have seen the Original, I believe you'll certainly dye at the first ●iew of it. But observe also the Picture of the Brother, which is not lesle worthy to be taken notice of than that of the Sister. I believe, answered the man's voice, the Picture of the Brother hath had no lesle influence on you, than that of the Sister hath had on me; and if you die not at the sight of it, you 〈◊〉 lest be shrewdly wounded by it. You are not 〈◊〉 wise, replied the other voice, they are both in 〈◊〉 Garden, and it may ●e hear all that we say, let 〈◊〉 go h●nce, lest they surprise us busy about trifle You should never, answered the Brother, draw 〈◊〉 from th●● lovely Picture, if I were not sure to fi●● the Original in the Garden; after which they immediately left the house, and we made as though 〈◊〉 had not heard a word of what passed.  
In the mean time my Brother and I had a gre●● desire to laugh and railly each other on what we ha●● heard; we went not into the house as we at first designed, but continued our walk, at length we perceived at the end of another Ally, a Young Man lea●●ing a Damsel, both very richly clad, and of a mo●● illustrious Gate and Carriage? this surprising re●counter, though at a considerable distance, 'cause us all four to stop for some time, being under 〈◊〉 great Astonishment; after which we went forward and the nearer we approached each other, the m●●● lovely the new Comers appeared to us; at length my Brother and the strange Gentleman doubled the●● p●ce, and leaving us both behind them, met in th●● midst of the Alley where admiring each other, 〈◊〉 thousand Caresses and Civilities passed between them. In the mean time the Lady and I also me●● and the more I looked on her the more beautiful 〈◊〉 found her; and she also considered me very attentively, but we were interrupted, she by my Brother, and I by hers, who came to salute us. What wa● said by these Gentlemen, was spoken with so much disorder that we ea●●ly perceived it; but for the Ladie● part and mine, we accosted each other though with much tenderness and sincerity, yet with more readiness of Spirit.  
'Tis easy to divine, that these two were Mo●●sier de Haut-Cour, and Madamoiselle de Garisolles his Sister, the Son and Daughter of monsieur and Madam 〈◊〉- Blanch. I shall say nothing of these two 〈◊〉 but only that Madamoiselle de Garisolles is the ●e Picture of her Mother, in Beauty, Spirit, and 〈◊〉. As for the Brother, besides that he is a very 〈◊〉 Person, having nothing in his Carriage but what 〈◊〉. Noble, and is loved and esteemed by all that 〈◊〉 him; I believe that we shall see him at Ham●●●●; for which reason I shall not give you a more 〈◊〉 description of him, and it may be should I do 〈◊〉 ●●u●n●●y judge me guilty of partiality.  
We continued our Walk, without minding the 〈◊〉 which was than extreme; My Brother, who at ●●e first rencontre was smitten with the most vio●●●t Passion in the World, as he since confessed, en●●●●n'd himself with Madamoiselle de Garisolles, as 〈◊〉 de Haut-Cour did with me; we had hardly ●●●un a discourse, before a Lackey came to call us 〈◊〉 the rest of the Company: I cannot express the Ca●●●●es which monsieur and Madam de Roche-Blanche ●●de me, nor the Civilities that passed between them ●●d my Brother. My Mother was extremely rashed at the sight of such admirable Persons as Monster de Haut-Cour and his Sister were; this latter she ●●ssed an hundred times, and spoke the most obliging things in the World, to which Mademoiselle the ●●●●●●s always replied like a Person of Spirit, and ●od sense.  
Never was there more joy, or greater Union among ●●ght Persons, the Fathers and Mothers laying aside 〈◊〉 i● Gravity, returned to the old Pastimes of their ●●u●h, such as Dancing, Music and Plays, and by 〈◊〉 ●●mulation, which one would have thought con●●●●, but it was not, monsieur de Haut-Cour endeavoured to insinuate into my Mother's Favour, and ●●●●ded, and my Brother was very much respected 〈◊〉 Madam de Roche-Blanche, with whom he had much ●●course in private. As for monsieur de Roche-Blanche and my Mother, they were presently gre●● Friends, by the knowledge which they had in 〈◊〉 secrets of Nature. monsieur de Roche-Blanche, 〈◊〉 had been a great Traveller, and had read much; 〈◊〉 had also a very penetrating Spirit, informed my M●ther of many curious Secrets; so that they resol●●● to maintain a correspendence by Letters, to imp●●●● their secrets to each other, and resolve the Dou●●● that might arise about them; My Father also 〈◊〉 Madam de Roche-Blanche had many long Conversati●● together: So that there was none of us but was 〈◊〉 employed, and took a great deal of Pleasure 〈◊〉 be so.  
I shall not give you a particular Account of all 〈◊〉 Diversions we had for an whole week together, 〈◊〉 of the Masque that we played, in which monsieur Haut-Cour and his Sister appeared under the Fig●● of Apollo and Diana, the first in Cloth of Gold, 〈◊〉 the latter in Cloth of Silver: My Brother represented the God Mars, and I the Goddess of Arts 〈◊〉 Sciences, for we had those Habits in our house 〈◊〉 fresh as they were the first day they were ma● though that were in the days of Henry the 4th. A●● my Father whom I had always seen very Grave, 〈◊〉 the first that put us upon these sports.  
Yet were not the Hearts of all so filled with joy as hinder my Father, and Madam de Roche-Blanche fr●● contriving something in which we can never be too ●●●rious, which Mademoiselle de Garisolles and I thus delivered: Our two Brothers and Lovers, I may well te●● them so, one day risen very early in the Morning ride a Hunting, so that we saw them not till towa●●● the Evening. In the mean time my Father intent to regale his Guests in a Grotte which was in 〈◊〉 Garden, where my Mother with monsieur de Ro●●●-Blanche were, whilst his Wife was with my Fath●● in a green Cabinet on the other side. Madamois●●● de Garisolles and I walking by chance near the gre●●● 〈◊〉, I distinctly heard my Father's voice, and she 〈◊〉 well knew that of her Mother. A sudden Cu●●●os●ty of hearing their Discourse seized us both at 〈◊〉, and being in a private place we silently listened ●●●d heard my Father speak thus:  
As for my Son (said he) I have no reason to be ●●●●●tis●yed with him; he hath Judgement and Spirit ●●ough, and his Inclinations lead him to Justice and ●●r●de, and to confess the Truth. I would feign see 〈◊〉 provided for as soon as possible, both because 〈◊〉 my only Son, whom I would have married 〈◊〉 his Life: And because I fear lest the Relati●●● of my Wife engage him in a Match I should 〈◊〉 approve of. You know Madam with what Passion I once loved you, but Divine Providence hath otherwise disposed of us, but it may be it will bless ●●d prospero what I am about to propose, viz. The ●arriage of my Son with Mademoiselle your Daughter. Your Proposal replied Madam de Roche-Blanche 〈◊〉 too advantageous, not to be accepted; and I be●●eve you will found a great deal of comfort in having ●●●r with you. Yes Madam, answered my Father, ●●●e Virtues of the Mother shine forth in the Daughter; and this is what hath made me desire her to be 〈◊〉 my house, and the inseparable Companion of my ●●on. It●●ay be, Madam, in these times of Misery ●ou were at a loss how to found out a suitable Match ●●●r her▪ You are in the right, (answered she) and ●●ou have fr●ed me from a great deal of Care and trouble, the Lord bless our good Intentions; and hereupon they struck hands in token of Agreement, 〈◊〉 Madam de Roche-Blanche engaged her Husband 〈◊〉 facilie: And my Father promised the like for 〈◊〉 Wife: And shall we not, said my Father, discover ●is to our Children, who are the Parties concerned? I ●elieve, answered Madam de Roche-Blanche, they are ●●●re troubled how to get our consent, than they will ●●e to found that we have engaged them without discoursing them about it.  
During this Discourse, which Mademoiselle de G●risolles and I distinctly heard, she blushed extremely which much added to her Beauty, and fixed h●● Eyes in the ground, being ashamed to look me in the Face: But I drew her cut of this surprise, by 〈◊〉 bracing her, saying, My dear Sister let me give yo● the first kiss, she also embraced me, but with som● confusion. But the Curiosity we had to hear th● rest of Madam de Roche-Blanche's Discourse, oblige● us to break of our Caresses for the present.  
You have made me one Proposal, continued she I'll now make you another, about another Marriage I understand what you mean, (said my Father 〈◊〉 and consent to it with all my Heart; 'tis of Monsieu● your Son, with my Daughter; but in this Ensine●● we must use a great deal of circumspection. M● Daughter is, as I have told you, of the Reforme● Religion in her Heart, but her Mother is a bigoted Roman Catholic; I expect only a favourable opportunity to make my Daughter declare her se●● and in this I beg you to help me as need require● with your Counsel and Assistance. The Relations 〈◊〉 my Wife are powerful, and she is almost Mad in the● Point of Religion, but it may be we may found mea● to get her Consent. Although you did not engag●● me, replied Madam de Roche-Blanche, by the hop● you give me, yet I were obliged to this as a Christian, and let Madam your Wife's Relations be a● powerful, and have as much Authority as they wi●● they shall found that neither Monsieur de Haute-Cour no● I will show ourselves base in this matter, and her● they struck hands again.  
Well, my double Sister, said Mademoiselle de G●●rissolles to me, we have nothing now wherewith 〈◊〉 reproach each other, and you blush as well as I; these words were followed with a second Embrace, after which we found so strange an Inclination to laug●● that we were forced to leave the Place we were 〈◊〉 ●eft we should be discovered by the noise. As soon 〈◊〉 we were gone a considerable distance, and were 〈◊〉 full liberty, we had a hundred pleasant discourses ●n what we heard. In the mean time our two Brothers being returned from Hunting, came to seek us 〈◊〉 the Garden, where they found us. As soon as we ●●w them, we had much ado to forbear breaking ●ut into another laughter, however we conquered ●ur Inclination for the Present, and promised each ●ther to discover nothing of what we knew; which promise's you may easily guests how well we kept.  
My Brother taking Mademoiselle de Garissolles by ●●e ha●●● walked into another Alley, and left me ●ith M●e●eur de Haute-Cour, who looking earnestly ●●on 〈◊〉▪ You are very pleasant, Modemoiselle, said ●e; how happy should I be, if you could communicate to me a little of that Joy that shines in your ●●es! Ah! Monsieur, answered I, I cannot communicate this Joy to you only by seeing me: If this were ●●ssible, (said he, interrupting me) I might also communicate to you what passeth in my heart, but ●●u are so happy, and I so miserable, that you cannot partake of my Melancholy, nor I of your Joy. ●ut (said I) since my Joy hath no other Founda●on but a Trifle, it may be your Melancholy is occasioned by somewhat of no greater Importance; so ●at you have no reason to judge me very happy, ●●r yourself very miserable. I feel (answered he) ●ine own Misery, and none besides can be sensible 〈◊〉 its Greatness. Yet (said I) you are jocose, you ●●ng, you dance, you hunt, you perform a thousand peasant Actions; your Melancholy must either be ●ery bashful, not daring to show itself; or a very ●●pocrite, that knows so well to conceal itself. 'Tis 〈◊〉 cruelty of my Fate (said he) that I must laugh, ●●ng and Dance, whilst my Heart groans under its ●ons, yet am I not so unhappy now as I shall be, ●●en I have left this Castle. In the first Moment that I saw you, I loved you, and Protested to do 〈◊〉 Eternally. This is what I was willing to inform yo● of, it being but just that you should know befo●● my departure for the Army, that you are the fir●● Person to whom I have given my Heart, and th●● you shall be the last; for either you must accept 〈◊〉 my Vows, or the invisible Dangers of the War, wi● soon take me out of the World.  
This Plain Declaration, abated the pleasant H●mour that I was in, in an instant; and I could na● for my life prevent discovering it. Is it, answered 〈◊〉 boldly, is it to Mortify me that you speak thus 〈◊〉 but assure yourself that your Railleries' 〈◊〉 ●all neve● rob me of my good Humour: If, sai● 〈◊〉 wh●● I have spoken offend you, I am sorry for 〈◊〉, but 〈◊〉 cannot repent my having spoken it. I assure you 〈◊〉 speak with as great sincerity as ever any Heart wa● possessed of: Do me the favour to believe it, 'tis 〈◊〉 that I ask at present, and if you found one word 〈◊〉 what I have said to be false, judge me eternally u● 〈◊〉 worthy of your Presence. I loved you as soon a ever I saw your Picture, the sight of your admirabl● Person augmented in my heart a Passion that w● never be Extinguished, and the Consideration of yo● Virtue perfected what your Beauty had begun.  
I had a great mind to seem angry; but the knowledge which I had of the agreement between 〈◊〉 Father and Madamoiselle de Roche Blanch, the gre●● Love my Brother had for Madamoiselle de Garissoll●● and the excellent qualities of Monsieur de Haute-Cor●● disarmed me in a moment, and left me quite sile●●● You'll not speak to me, said he, with a passionate A●● What would you have me to say? (said I, looking fixedly on him) since you tell me things so ne● that I am quite surprised at them: Let it soffi●● you, that you are the only Man in the World tha● durst thus speak to me without angering me, th●● esteem that I have for your Person forceth me t●● keep within the bounds of Moderation, and were 〈◊〉 Soul capable of any Passion, you were him of all ●●ers to whom I would give the preference in my ●art: But Madamoiss●lle, said he, may I hope that ●ny touch your illustrious Heart, it shall be me? I ●e you, said I, leave to put the most favourable ●ce you please on my Words, after this ask no far●●r. He would have cast himself at my Feet, the ●●ter to express his thankfulness, but he was afraid being seen in this Posture. Indeed at that very ●●ant we perceived those four Persons, to whose authority we were subject, which made us join  
Brother and Madamoisselle de Garissolles; as soon we came together, we viewed each other, and aged we had all been engaged in the same Ad●ture, nor could we hinder ourselves from smiling.  
Brother who was more airy than Monsieur de 〈◊〉- Cour: Ah, said he, I imagine why you laugh, ●●at our Cost, but this is not generous. We were 〈◊〉 about to have replied, when Monsieur and Ma●●ne de Roche-Blanche, my Father and Mother came 〈◊〉 to us: Though, said my Mother, the Discourses 〈◊〉 have together, may possibly give you some sa●●●tion, yet they are but Crude Meats; and hereup●●e all walk into the House.  
Never was there more good humour discovered at 〈◊〉 Table than now, and I may say, that the Parents passed their Children. After all was ended, Mon●● de Roche B●●●●he, who was naturally of a chear●● temper, I 〈◊〉 ●nd he, with Monsieur and Ma●● d' Ombreva●● 〈◊〉 ●ntertain myself at present 〈◊〉 Madamoiselle de St. 〈◊〉: Agreed, said my Mo●●r, provided you leav● 〈◊〉 Monsieur de Haut-Cour, 〈◊〉 which he readily consented. Since, said my Fa●●●r, you thus choose your Company, I'll take Ma●●oiselle de Garissolles, I know ●●shall displease some ●●ly, but I cannot help it. There are none left, 〈◊〉 Madame de Roche-Blanche to my Brother, but we two, shall I enjoy your Company? I should be, reeplyed he, a very degenerate Son, should I not fin● a singular satisfaction in having the Honour of a Persons Company, for whom my Father hath had su●tender sentiments. After this Division we all wall●ed in an Alley of Maples which encompassed the Ga●den, at a sufficient distance from each other, an● 'twas there that Monsieur de Roche-Blanche discourse● me thus.  
Madamoiselle, said he, as soon as ever I saw yo● I could but frame two Wishes, the one is, That yo● would abjure the Superstitions of Rome, and th● other is a Wish so rash, and you may judge itself is● that I scarce dare speak it. As for the first Wish● answered I, 'tis Sir half accomplished, for I hav● such advantageous Sentiments for the Religion whic● you profess, that I desire to dye in it; and seein● the Hour of Death is uncertain, I desire from th●● very moment to enter into your Church: As fo● your other wish, I can return no answer to it, because I know not what it is. I am exceeding glad said he, to hear your good Inclinations, which emboldens me to declare to you the other part of my desire.  
My Son, continued he, must want Eyes if he di● not observe those Perfections which I see in you, an● I should never Pardon him a Fault so great, as 'two●● be to refuse you the homage of his Heart, a Fa●● of which I believe him uncapable of being guilty And I who am his Father, assure you, that what 〈◊〉 most passionately desire in the whole World, is th●● you would accept of his Vows. Daughter, added h●● for 'tis impossible for me to call you otherwise, yo● shall always found me a second Monsieur d' Ombrev●● who shall be as tender of you as 'tis possible for h●● to be. Whilst he discoursed thus, I perceived th●● blushes had seized my Face. Ha' Daughter, (sa●● he, smiling) pray tell me, whether this blush whi●● I see painted on your Face, be favourable to my Intentions or no? You well know Sir, answered I, that I am not at my own disposal, but depend on my Father and Mother, to whose Will I am obliged to yield an entire Obedience. Well Daughter, (replied he) if those on whom you depend, consent to what I desire, will you Obey them without any repugnance? Ah Sir, answered I, you press me too hard. I Confess my Fault, (said he) I earnestly desire to see you in my House; your Virtue, Prudence and Sweetness have charmed me much more than your Beauty, Birth and Estate, so that I dare promise' you by God's assistance you will found there Pleasure and Peace all your Life. Were it proper for a Father to boast of his Children, I might tell you that my Son hath all the qualities of a wellborn Gentleman, nor would I say so if the Public did not witness it; and I shall do that for him for your sake, which I would not were he to Mary any other.  
I being much entangled by this Discourse, were willing to divert it, and to speak in favour of my Brother. You have no need, said Monsieur de Ro●he-Blanche to speak for him; and I am extremely pleased with the Passion he hath for my Daughter, and I wish my Son were in as fair a ●a● for the Establishment of his Happiness as my Daughter is; but I have too long pried into ●he secrets of your Heart; but this was not the ●●nes Reason that made me desire to Discourse ●i●h you; but this, Your Father having informed me of your Good Inclinations to reject the ●●nish Errors, I offer you my Person, my House, 〈◊〉 E●●ate, my Family, and my Son for your assistance in this matter; make as soon as you can 〈◊〉 A●juration, which cannot but turn much to ●o●r Advantage. After this we had much other ●●●ourse, and he gave me a great deal of good Counsel, for which I was very much obliged to him. At length we joined the rest of the Company, and immediately after Mounsieur and Madan de Ro●he-Blanche, my Father and Mother, left us, to Discourse among themselves, at which none of the younger Persons were at all troubled.  
I shall not repeat all that passed between us four, nor what Monsieur de Haute-Cour said to me but I must not pass over in silence a Discourse I had in the Evening with my Mother, when every Body was retired to their Chambers. Well Justine, said she, Monsieur de Haute-Cour loves you, and without doubt hath not failed of declaring it to you. My Mother had a mind to try whether I would not be moved at so close a Question, but I had this day heard things so new both to my Ears and Heart, that nothing was capable of purting me out of Countenance. Monsieur de Haute-Cour (said I) is a Man both Gallant and Handsome, and thinks it his Duty to show his Gallantry to all those of our Sex. And what Answer did you give him, said she? An Answer (said I) so little serious, as assured him that I was none of those Girls that suffer themselves to be easily transported with Flatteries. You (replied my Mother) give me a Character of Monsieur de Haute-Cour quite different from the Idea I had of him: I judged him wise and honest, and found in him by that Discourse I have had with him all the Characters of a M●● of Spirit and Parts, and you would have me believe by the Picture you draw of him, that he i● one of those Impertinent Fools that Court ever● one they see: I am sure you now speak against your own sentiments. Such as he is, (answere● I coldly) are wise with the wise, and young wit● the young. My Mother returned no answer, bu● only snook her Head and smiled. I took my leav● of her, and was about to withdraw, which she seeing, said, I have one word more to say about Monsieur de Haute-Cour, whom I sinned so honest and so well qualified, that were it not for his Religion, I should wish him for your Husband above all others in France. Mother, said I, don't you remember that you have disposed of me already in favour of your Cousin's Son? Ah, replied she, if Monsieur de Haute-Cour would but turn Catholic, my good Kinsman of whom you speak, should soon be forced to look out for another Match. At that instant an untoward Fancy took me to abuse my Mother, which succeeded well enough. I'll tell you one thing, Mother, added I, Monsieur de Haute-Cour is indeed a Man of worth, and hath an extreme Passion for me, and would do any thing to get me, even what is in its self most difficult, and I have a great Esteem for him, but I neither can, nor ever shall be able to love him, though he should turn Roman Catholic for my sake: It may be I might have loved him, but my knowing that you have destined me for your Relation, makes me very indifferent as to any other Men but him: You have declared your Resolution, that I should in this be Obedient to your Will, nor can my Inclinations turn as the Wind doth. What say you, Madamoiselle Justine, (replied my Mother in a rage?) know Insolent, that I'll teach you to conform to my Intentions; Get out of my Presence, jest I make you feel to what degree you have enraged me. Which I did, without returning a word of Answer, for I knew her well enough.  
Immediately I went to Bed, having my mind filled with the Ideas of those things that this day happened unto me: I shall not relate all the Motions of my Heart, the Principal of which was Love, to which my Soul now began to yield. The admirable Qualities of Mounsieur de Haute-Cour made an impression on me; the Knowledge that I had of my Father's Will▪ and of my Mothers, the Passion of my Brother, all these things together made me entertain an affection, which otherwise I should not so soon have done: Besides, I saw that as Affairs stood with me at present, I must dispense with some forms of Love. Nevertheless, I had indifferent good rest this Night, the multitude of my thoughts did not disturb my sleep, which they would have done, had I been under the Power of one single Person.  
I was but just awake when I saw my Mother come into my Chamber; Mother, said I, I believe you are come to chide me for being so sluggish: Not J●s●ine, said she, I would have you lie still, and having commanded my waiting Gentlewoman to leave the Chamber; Yesterday said she, you put me into a little Passion, but let that pass; you spoke somewhat concerning monsieur de Haute-Cour, which I have thought on all this Night, you said that he loved you passionately, and would do any▪ thing to get you. Do you think (said my Mother) that the Love he hath for you is capable of making him to embrace, the Catholic Religion? I cannot (replied I) give you a positive answer in this matter, but I know that his Love is as fervent as ever any was; and that he is not so obstinate an H●gonot as my Father or Brother, I can assure you that he is one that will harken to good Counsel. Well Daughter (said she) seeing it is so, would you not be glad to be Instrumental in saving so illustrious a Person as monsieur d● Haute-Co●r is? How meritorious will it be in the sigh● of God, to be engaged in bringing him into the true Church! On the other hand, how happy will you be in having such a Husband as he is! Have you no Eye● to see that monsieur de Mass (that was the Name of her Rela ion) hath nothing that comes near Monsieur de Haute-Cour? I have considered all these things said I; but the Opinion which I had that you designed me for Monsieur de Mass, makes me look on him in another manner than I did on any other Man: but now I know your mind, favour me so far as to tell me how I may please you? Ah Daughter, (replied my Mother) this is not the Insolence that provoked me Yestrrday. This therefore is what I would have you to do, to carry it so towards your Lover, that he may never loose the Love he bears you; so that to get you, he may do whatever you would have him. Go, think well of what I have said, and be sure keep it secret: Having said thus, she embraced me, and left my Chamber.  
My Brother was gotten into my Chamber I know not how, and hid himself behind the Hang, from whence he came forth as soon as he perceived my Mother had left the Chamber: And is it thus, Sister (said he) that you are an Instrument in perverting of Souls? Know, that what you are ordained to do ●s but the part of a Spiritual Bawd, 'tis so indeed; but what Name shall we give it. when the Spiritual Bawd must deliver herself Corporally, or to speak ●ut, must be Married to him whose Mind she hath Debauched from the Truth? Stay (Monsieur Impudent, said I) till I am up, and we shall than see whether you'll dare talk as now you do, in the mean ●ime leave my Chamber: Ha' Sister (said he) he that ●id not know you would think you very Angry, but 〈◊〉 am not come hither to quarrel with yo●. Methinks knowing my Natural Temper, you should ●ave put a better interpretation on my words, than ●o take them as though they had been spoken out ●f Malice. I am come to take you for my Confident, ●nd to be yours. We●●l discourse of that by and by ●●d I, this Chamber is not proper for such a Conversation, do you be in the lower Hall, and I'll meet ●ou there in a short time: my Brother hearing this, ●ent out of my Chamber the same way that he came in. Immediately my waiting Gentlewoman came to dress me, after which I went down to the Hall, where I found my Brother expecting me.  
As soon as he saw me, he said, I must confess that since the coming of monsieur de Roche-Blan●h● and his Family, I have found a great alteration in my Person. I believe, (said I) smiling, 'tis only Madamoise●le de Ga●i●olles hath wrought this change, her Father and Mother having contributed nothing to it. 'Tis true, said he, but do you think that 'tis only the Beauty of this Charming Girl, that hath captivated me, her Spirit, her Humour, and a thousand other rare qualities which she possesseth, have conquered me; and so conquered me too, that if I am not united to her in an indissoluble Bond, I shall never enjoy any Contentment in this World. As far as I see (answered I) I know more good News re●ating to you, than you do yourself: And why, ●aid he, wicked Creature that you are, did you not tell it me? And why, said I, are you grown so proud, that since you have had a Mistress, you disdain to remember that you have a Sister; and immediately I told him all that I had heard in the Garden. And Madamoiselle de Garisolles, said he, was she with you? Yes Brother, said I▪ she was: And what said th●, (said he) with a kind of Transport? Madamoiselle de Gariolles▪ said I, heard all the Discourse, as a Person of much Merit and Virtue.  
I had not sooner spak● these last words, but she came into the Hall with her Brother; Ah, (said she,) I have surprised you both in a very earnest Conference. 'Tis true, said my Brother, my Sister hath told me some things so pleasant, and in which I am so much concerned, that any other besides yourself would have very much disobliged me to have interrupted me. Than we●ll withdraw again, said she▪ not Mademoiselle by no means, (replied my Brother) I must impart our secret to you, though you knew it long before I did. You have done amiss, said she to me: I have done like a good Sister, said I, who could not longer forbear to assure a Brother whom she loves, of his happiness; my greatest trouble was how to do it conveniently: But— But said monsieur de Haute-Cour, interrupting us, I have a Sister as good and faithful as monsieur de Ponsins. Madamoiselle Garisolles and I looked on each other, and should possibly have reproached each other, had we n●t been both guilty: At length we judged it the best way to pardon each other mutually. We renewed our Amity, and our Brothers swore an Eternal Union: for my part, I could not longer conceal my sentiments for Monster de Haute-Cour. And the beautiful Eyes of Madamoiselle de Garrisolles, spoke so plainly in favour o● my Brother, that 'twas easy for him thence to judge of the Motions of her Heart.  
I shall not relate all the Discouse that passed this day, which was the last of Mounsieur and Madam de Roche-Blanche's abode with us. My Brother had a private Conference with Mounsieur de Haute-Cou●, concerning the Method they ought to take to deceive my Mother. He was with her about an hour and half in the Afternoon, and she seemed very well satisfied with the Conversation she had with him. We all of us went into the Garden, but were nothing so cheerful as formerly, the thoughts of a separation spoiling all our Mirth. My Mother had another Discourse with Mounsieur d● Haute-Cour, and one with Mounsieur de Roc●-Blan●he. My Father e●tertuned himself with Mademoiselle de Garisolles and ●e, and my Brother with Madam de Roche-B●an●●; what passed it's not worth relating. The next Morning being come, our dear Guests, after many tender adieus took Coach to return, and left u● v●ry well satisfied with their Company, but very much afflicted at their departure.  
My B●other having acquainted my Father with my Mother's d●gsins on Mounsieur de Haute-Co●●, ●e judged the conjuncture very favourable, and th●● 'twas si●●o an●use her with some such hopes, with the d●i●g o● which I were entrusted. My Brothe● h●d communicated his thoughts to Mounsieur 〈◊〉 Ha●●●-●o●r, who acting in concert, wrote me such Passionate Letters, as though he would have stuck at nothing to obtain me. My Brother on the other hand, although be was assured of my Father's Consent with respect to Madamoiselle de Ga●i●●●; yet he prayed my Mother to speak of it to my Father, who returned a favourable answer In a word, all things went well enough, when I sound my se●f u●●erly s●ript in a moment, of all that Tran●●●ity which I enjoyed, expecting a favourable opportunity ●o make my Declaration.  
This stroke so sad, that I have reason for ever 〈◊〉 lament it, was the Death of my Father, with w●om I may truly say, all my Joy oved too, and a●l my pleasures are buried. He cell sick some 〈◊〉 ●fter the departure of Mounsieur de Rocht- 〈◊〉. His Distemper was so sharp and violent, that we begun to doubt of his Life almost ●as ●●on as he complained; and the first day that he ●●●k his Bed, he foretold that he should never rise more. This sudden and violent Sickness so overwhelmed my Mother's Spirit, that we thought she would have accompanied my Father, who in the height of his Distemper, discoursed always with the same Moderation and Judgement that he used when he was in perfect Health. My Mother was so weakened, that she could be carried but twice to see my Father, and that with all imaginable Inconveniences; yet she would have me always with him, to serve him; and I believe that God ordained it should be thus, that I might have opportunity to discourse more familiarly with my Father, who spoke such things as I shall never forget. Particularly on a certain day when he saw me by his Bedside, he spoke thus:  
My dear Daughter, I should joyfully leave this Life, if I saw your Body out of the sink of Superstition, as your Mind is. I always thought God would have made use of me in so good a Work, but I now see that in his Eternal Council he hath decreed to finish this great Work by another hand, f●r which I bless his H●ly Name, as indeed we ought to bless him for all things: And because I feel my Life stealing away by little and little, and that in a short time you'll see me only a dead Carcase, take care to remember and profit▪ by what you shall now hear.  
Never had any one the design that you have, and persisted in it, but found himself surrounded with a multitude of Calamities. When men resolve to embrace the Truth, they must also resolve to enter into a vale of Tears, and into a Path covered with Thorns; that is to say, they must resolve to bear such hard and cruel Trials and Afflictions, as that ●twere impossible to bear them without the special Grace of God. This hath made many who began to walk in the way of Truth, withdraw upon the sight of the many Labours, Miseries, and Reproaches wherewith they must encounter, and return to their old course of Mirth and Pleasure, whose End is yet wee●ing and gnashing of teeth.  
How many things must you suffer, before you can put your good Design in Execution! It may be it will be discovered; it may be your Mother when she once hears of it, will 'cause you to be carried by ●orce into a Nunnery, besides other severities which ●hee●l use towards you. It may be also your Relations will try by all imaginable Flattery and Kindness to turn you from your Re●olution, and will not have recourse unto rigour, till they found all their promises and allurements uneffectual. Try yourself, J●stine, whether you are able to resist this variety of temptations; for if you found you cannot bear these Trials, 'twere better for you to abide what you are, than after having embraced the Truth to Apostatise from it, by which▪ you would far more grievously scandalise men, and offend God.  
But suppose you escape all those Miseries and Violences wherewith you are threatened by the Papists, yet you must undergo others from the Reformed, which are no lesle terrible and inevitable: Don't expect that the Integrity of their Manners should always correspond with the Holiness of their Religion. You'll found amongst them neither that Piety nor Charity, nor Modesty nor Patience, nor Weanedness from the World, which you may fancy they have. Very few amongst them will take notice of what you have done; and such as do, will yet do it with so much feebleness, coldness▪ and as it were constraint, that you I be in great danger of being scandalised to see their hearts so destitute of Zeal as they are.  
You▪ (my Daughter) have been tenderly Educated in ●●ur Father's House, of a very Ancient and Illustrious Family in Provence, nor were you in likelihood to have left your Father's House, unless to enter into that of an Husband worthy of you: But ala●, I ●●ar you●l found it very hard to be forced from your Country and Inheritance, to go into strange Countries, where you may be attacked with Misery or Sickness, or the persecutions of your Relations, or it may be with all these Evils together. Can your Heart which hath been used to Grandeur, Delicacy, and Pleasures, endure to be in Contempt, by reason of that Want and Indigence to which you may be reduced? will it not regrett the Oynions and fleshpots of Egypt? Have you Resolution enough to bear the being thrown from the highest Prosperity, into the lowest Abyss of Adversity in a moment? Speak, Justine, are you re●lved to bear all these, and it may be such evils as ●re yet more terrible, which it may please God to ●y you with?  
One of the first Reflections (said I) that I ever ●ade after I began to read the Holy Scripture, was, That I must prepare to bear the Cross of the Lord ●esus, if I would follow him▪ and although I represented to my Mind all the Tribulations which may befall us, under the most terrible Ideas in the world, ●et they could not hinder me from desiring to be soyned to our Lords Invisible and Catholic Church.  
God strengthen you (continued my Father) in ●his Holy Resolution, and support you by the efficacy of his Holy Spirit. If you earnestly pray un●o him▪ he'll bestow on you such Consolations as ●i●l make you regard all your Afflictions as light and easy. Remember Daughter, that nothing can be more honourable than to abandon the Pomp's and Pleasures of the World, to follow Jesus Christ in Reproach and Shame; and nothing can be so excellent and lovely as to range yourself under his Conduct, in a time when such as are his seem about ●o leave him. Let no difficulties discourage you, ●nd though your whole Life should be spent in Contempt and Misery; yet your Troubles are but ●or a Moment, compared to that Glorious Immor●alit that waits for you.  
I represent these things to you in their blackest Colours, to prepare your Spirit for Constancy under ●h● most terrible Afflictions, but it may be God ●ill graciously prevent your being exposed to them, ●et 'tis good to be prepared for whatever may hap▪ You have often found a great deal of Pleasure in reading the History of the Martyrs, 'tis the ●est Book you can read next the Holy Scriptures. Continued still to read it, you'll therein found what will instruct and confirm you in the Truth; you●l also found Examples of all sorts of Persons, to help yo● to persevere in the true Religion to the death.  
During this Discourse of my Father, I fell on my knees and kissed his hands, not being able to spea● a word: But my Father went on, and laying h●● right hand on my Head, gave me his Blessing in these words. My Daughter, said he, God who bestows excellent favours on such dying persons as be loves, hath in a manner absolutely Incomprehensible to Flesh and Blood, revealed to me, That you will accomplish all my hopes concerning your entire Conversion, and your perseverance in that Truth which you have already internally embraced; wherefore I beseech our good Lord, abounding in Eternal mercies, that he would bless you with Spiritual Blessings through Jesus Christ our Lord; that his Power may shine forth in your Infirmities, and his Praise in your Weakne s; that he would make you victorious over all the Stratagems and Ambushes, and all the open Violences of your Enemies; that he would be ●our Father, and his Holy Spirit your Guide in al● your ways, to the end that you may finish your l●f● to the Glory of your God. Heavenly Father, (said ●e, lifting up his hands,) I recommend to thy Protection this poor Sheep, which thou hast begu● to draw to thyself. Deliver her from the Mouths of ravenous Beasts; she is thy Creature, she is thine Image; she hath been redeemed by the precious Blood of thy wellbeloved Son, leave not thy work imperfect, but vouchsafe her an entrance into thy Spiritual Sheepfold, that she may have an assurance of entering into thy Glory. Hear, O Lord, the Prayers of thy dying Servant, who calls on thy Name through the Merits of thine only Son our Saviour.  
When my Father had ended, I again kissed his hand, and had only Power to say thus. Monsieur, said I, I will not (said he) have you call me thus, I am your Father. Father, than said I, I am so entirely resigned to your Will, that I am ready to o●ey you immediately, without any farther delay or precaution, hap what william. Not, my Child, (said he) you must know that true Piety doth not make Persons rash in their Actions: I'll give your Brother such Directions as I judge fit, do you obey him, and you'll do well enough.  
At this very instant my Brother came into the Chamber: I am very glad to see you, said my Father, to recommend your Sister to your Care, to whom you must for the future be a Father, whatever it cost you. Mounsieur and Madam de Roche Blanch will assist her in making her Abjuration, which as soon as she hath done, take care to sand her into Germany to our Relations there. I know your Mother will be mightily enraged at it, but 'tis better to obey God than Men. Use such secrecy in what you do, as a business of this importance requires; especially let none know which way your Sister is gone, nor where she is: I have taken Care that you shall be sufficiently provided with Money for this Expedition: In other things follow your own judgement. Above all, beg God that he would direct you to such means as are most proper for the accomplishment of this Design. As for other Affairs, follow my Directions; especially show all imaginable respect to your Mother, as your own Duty, her Virtue, and that tender Love she hath for you requires.  
My Father would have continued his Discourse, but was seized with a fainting Fit, without doubt occasioned from his speaking beyond his strength. I was so affrighted at it, that I cried out so loud that all the Servants of the House ran to our assistance. At length he revived again, and required that a Minister might be called. I have (said my Brother) sent for one, but he cannot possibly be here this Night: Well (said my Father) this shall not hinder my dying like a good Christian. He desired to see my Mother, and I went to call her, and she came into my Father's Chamber so pale and disorder d, that I thought she would have Dyed before him. Madam, (said he) this is the time, the Moment of our Separation, after having lived a long time very happily together: I desired to see you for two Reasons, the one to thank you for the Care you have taken of me, and that Affection you have shown me; and the other that you might be a Witness of my Death, and that you may judge whether it be possible that such as dye in the Lord, as I am sure through Grace I shall, should be damned, as your Confessors oblige you to believe.  
My Mother could not hear these sad words without sinking down on my Father's Bed, through Grief: Alas, Sir, said she, may I not Die with you! What should I do in this World, having jost you, after having lived so sweetly with you! I Conjure you, Sir, (said she) if I have failed in serving you according to your Merit, that you would Pardon my Ignorance. I have, Madam, (said 〈◊〉 Father) no reason at all to complain of you; on the contrary, I have been very happy in you, and therefore I Command my Children to obey you to the Death, (saving in Matters of Conscience) and if they do otherwise, they shall be deprived of my Blessing. But, Madam, I must end this Discourse to think on what is much more important, for time is very precious; and remaining f●●nt for some time, and having taken a small draught of a Cordial Potion, he with an intelligible Voice Prayed thus, after he had desired my Mother to be attentive to it, and not to be displeased with his words.  
A Lorighty God, and Merciful Father of our Lord J●●●s Christ, I humbly prostrate myself before 〈◊〉 ●●●ine Majesty, to thank thee for the many Fa●o●s ●ods and Protections thou hast vouchsafed me during ●he whole Course of my Life, so that I have nothing else 〈◊〉 say, but O Lord thy Blessings are upon me, what shall I tender thee for all thy Mercies; and yet O my God I have offended thee a thousand ways, my sins ex●●ed been a continual series of Iniquities; I have sinned against thee, O Lord, even against thee, and have de●●●ed to have languished under the severest strokes ●●●●●y ●igour; if thou shouldest deal with me as thou 〈◊〉 Justice mightest do; I must necessarily bear in my So●y and Soul the marks of thy most dreadful Anger and Wrath: Yet though my sins have abounded, thy Grace doth much more abound, and hath surpassed thy Justice: Wherhfore what terror soever my sins cause in ●●e, yet I trust that through Jesus Christ my Saviour, t●ey shall all be pardoned, and remembered not more; ●●at the Blood of thy Son shed on me shall cleanse me ●om all my filthinesses, and that I shall with boldness appear before thy Throne, which will be to me a Throne of Grace, and my Heart anticipating my Deliverance from this Prison of the Body of Death, flies towards thee:  

O, God of Hosts, how pleasant are  
The Tabernacles of thy Grace!  
How full of most refreshing Joy  
Lord is thy glorious Dwelling-place!   

My Soul doth long, yea fainteth for  
The Courts and Dwellings of the Lord,  
My Heart and Flesh cry after thee,  
The living and the Holy God.   
Break those feeble B●nds, O my God, that bind 〈◊〉 yet to the World, raise up my Soul to thee, and let the sacred Inspirations of thy Holy Spirit accompli—  
He would have gone on, but could not than: He only said to my Brother, Ferdiaand, read me the 17th. Chapter of St. John, with the 25th, 26th, 27th. Psalms, in prose, and as my Brother read these words of the 27th. Psalms, Seek my Face, saith the Lord, my Father rendered them in Verse after him:  

My Heart O God runs after thee,  
I humbly beg thy Grace;  
Than seek my Face, saidst thou to me,  
Lord, I will seek thy Face.   
Immediately his Speech and Life left him. My Brother who had till now suppressed his Grief, gave himself up to it, and fainted under it, as also did my Mother and I: Some of the Servants that were come into the Chamber, used their utmost whole House was full of nothing but grief and sorrow. My Father governed his House with such Order and severe Sweetness, that all the Servants loved him, and yet trembled in his Presence: They were therefore exceeding sorrowful for the loss of so good a Master: But besides, they saw the Wise little different from her Husband, and the Son and Daughter from their Father. My Brother being of the strongest Nature, was the first that recovered, and came to himself, and took a special Care of my Mother, and also of me, who was longer reason to be, for I had been happy, had I died that very moment.  
Never was there greater desolation than that my Father's Death caused in our Family; my Mother spent whole Days and Nights in Complaints, my Brother who was of a very active Spirit, seemed ●o have lost all his Vivacity, and for my part I led 〈◊〉 very languishing Life, hoping that in the end I ●hould be overwhelmed with Grief, and thereby ●scape the Miseries which my Father had foretold, ●hose Predictions the event fully confirmed. In ●he mean time my Brother took Care for my Father's Funeral, which was a very honourable one, ●nd at which were many persons of the highest Quality, whom my Father's Virtue and Integrity had ●ade his Admirers.  
This was but the beginning of my sorrows, for I ●on sound myself in a Labyrinth of such pressing ●siscries, that 'tis a kind of Miracle, that I could ●ear up under them; for I found myself at once deprived of my Father by Death, of my Brother 〈◊〉 Absence, and separated from my Mother by an implacable hatred which she had conceived against ●●e, which it seemed probable she would never ●y aside.  
My Mother had provided me with a Waiting-maid that was a Gatholick, and withal the most wicked and dangerous Hypocrite in all the Kingdom. ●y Father and Brother had often advised me to be●are of her, which I did, so that she could never now what passed between my Father, my Brother ●●d me, what diligence soever she used to pry into 〈◊〉 which vexed her exceedingly; for my Mother ●●d placed her with me as a Spy over all my acti●●s, and had promised her a large Reward if she ●ould discover what she knew, both concerning me 〈◊〉 particular, and all the rest of the House. Yet was ●once so imprudent as to lock up some Papers in ●er sight in a little Box, (with the Key of which would never trust her) which Papers were written with my Brother's hand, and contained the Discourse● that he had with the Father Matthew, and some Notes on divers points of Controversy.  
When I was sick my Maid resolved to steal m● Key from me, and I was so low, that I neglected a●● my ordinary Precautions, nor did I when I opene● my Box observe that any thing had been taken ou● of it. In the mean time this cunning Slut Soubrett●● knowing that should she have carried these Papery to my Mother during the height of her afflictions she should not at all please her, did what was fa● more devilish, carrying these Papers herself to th● Father Matthew, adding what she thought fit b● word of Mouth. The Father having these Papers resolved to loose no time, to revenge himself on my Brother, and to prevent me from Executing my designs.  
The first thing he did was to visit my Mother and only discoursed her in the General, and at 〈◊〉 distance, without discovering all that he had in h●● mind. My mother took but little notice of what he said, whilst he was with her, but having better considered it after his departure, sent to desire his Return; and the Good Father, who Expected such a message, would not let slip the opportunity, but made a full discovery of what he knew. If I knew my mother aright, I believe that she had made him acquainted with all that she was resolved to do especially about my Marriage with Monsieur de Haute-Cour, and being very well assured that the Father Matthew was an old crafty Fox, I believe that h● she wed my Mother that she was abused. Yet because I cannot be positive in this. I shall only discourse 〈◊〉 the Consequences of this affair.  
I observed, that my mother did not seem so much afflicted as she used to be, and that she converse not with me or my Brother with her ordinary 〈◊〉 miliarity, and that she would sometimes enter hasti●● into my Chamber, and view all places in it, and that she had frequent discourses with my maid. All these things made me open my Eyes, and begat in me a suspicion jest I were betrayed by this Wretch. My Brother also was gone from home, being obliged to look after the affairs of the Family, so that I had none that I could confided in. At length I was desperately alarmed by one of our servants, who came to me and said, I know not, Mademoiselle, what mischief is contriving in this Castle, I see some preparations which done't please me; and your Waiting-mard was heard to say, That within three days we should see a Great alteration here. At the first hearing of this, I was terribly surprised, and knew not what to say, but at length I said to this Person, Thou knowest where my Brother is, take the best Horse in the Stable and go after him, and whatever business he is about, let him lay it all aside, and return immediately hither. If you please (said ●he) to writ a Note to him, it will be better; upon which I hastened into my Chamber to writ ●t, which I did in these words.  
My most Dear Brother,  
YOur presence is so necessary at this time, that if you delay your Return but one Hour, you hazard the ●osing a Sister that loves you better than her Life. Adieu my Brother, I have more need of your assistance than ●ou have of my words; nor have I time to tell you all ●hat's done in this place.  
I had left the Door of my Chamber open, and my Traitress seeing that I wrote, hide herself, ●o see what I would do after I had written, and seeing that I delivered a Billet to the Servant, ●ho was ready to take Horse when I brought it him, she ran and acquainted my Mother with it, who sent after him immediately to stop and search him; but he was gone too far, so that 'twas to no● purpose When my Mother saw this, she doubted jest I had discovered some of her Designs, fo● which reason she looked athwart on me for a long time without saying a word to me: She had also fresh Discourses with my Maid, who did such things in my Presence that I had but too much reason to suspect that I was just upon the brink of ruin I spent this Day in a great deal of perplexity; foreseeing the Afflictions that were like to befall me, which made me employ all my time in reading the Holy Scriptures and in Prayer.  
About Sunset my Mother sent for me into the Garden to speak with me there. This Message filled me with trembling and terror, yet I went down to her. I found my Mother alone in one of the Alleys, as soon as she saw me, she looked on me with Eyes that seemed to sparkle with Indignation, yet said nothing to me, as neither did I to her; so that for some time we both were silent. At length, your heart is very proud, Madamoiselle Justine, said she, to oblige me to speak first. O good God, (said I) what may this mean! is it my part, Mother, to speak before you? or not rather to expect your pleasure? She made no reply, but continued on her Walk, and I with her. But immediately I saw two Men enter the Garden, whom I knew not, (whereof one seemed of a good Carriage.) as also my Maid with some other men, bringing with them such things as belonged to me.  
I saw all these things without being able to gue● what they meant, when my Mother asked the● aloud, whether all things were ready? Yes Madam answered the Gentilest, they are. Than my Mother turning toward me, spoke to me in such term as were most bitter and cruel. Ingrateful and per●dious Daughter, said she, You have made it you business to deceive your Mother, the day is coming which I'll revenge me on you, for all the Treasons which you and your Brother have acted against me, and hinder your damnable Projects. An Iron Grate shall secure you, and answer for all your actions during your life. Go, follow those Men, to whom I have given Orders what to do, unless you would have them drag you to the place where I would have you be. The Passion that seized me on these ●ast words, quite transported me. Drag me! said 〈◊〉, your Anger, Madam, hath blinded you; and ●ifting up my hand to Heav●n, I said, I call God 〈◊〉 witness of the perfidiousness and treachery which hath been acted against me, and I pray him to de●iver me out of your hand, which I hope he will do. farewell Madam, after this baseness the worst place ●n the World will be better to me than to be with ●ou: And having said thus, I turned about, and gave my hand to the Gentilest of the two, and went out of the Garden by a Gate that led towards ●he Highway, where I found a Coach with four Horses, and four Troopers to guard it: I went into the Coach with my Maid and the two Men. It ●as above two hours after before I spoke one word, ●nd I was so overwhelmed with weariness, vexation and rage against my Ravishers, that I did not concern myself to inquire who they were, nor what ●●d obliged them to take my Mother's part, and become the Ministers of her Violence.  
My Maid was grown so impudent, that she durst ●sult over my Miseries, laughing at my very face. ●ake Courage, Mademoiselle, (said she) your conation is not not so bad as you imagine. 'Tis bad to ●tremity answered I coldly, in that I am obliged 〈◊〉 have before my Eyes such a Traiteress as you ●e; and which it may be hath not her like in all ●e World. See (said she) what Persons get by ●ing their Duty! they are abused for doing good, ●u are only enraged against me because. I opposed your Intentions, which would have ruined your So●● If (said I) you make not this insolent Wretch ho●● her Tongue, I'll throw myself out of the Coa●● though it cost my Life. Ah Mademoiselle, said she▪ you speak very loftily, as though you were still 〈◊〉 Ponsine, it may be you would not do amiss to use yourself to other Language. The insolence o● these words made me turn pale with Anger, which one of the Men perceiving, imposed silence on So●brette, If you hold not your Tongue, (said he to her) I shall found a means to force you to it, which you● may repent of: This threatening stopped her mouth.  
During this, the Night grew so dark, that in 〈◊〉 Wood through which we were to pass, the Coachman mistook his way. The Troopers that guarde● us called on all sides, to found some House where the● might refresh themselves; but none answered their Calls but the Echo of the Wood: At length 'twas resolved to spend the Night where we were; the two men had the discretion to leave the Coach▪ after having shut it fast, rather to prevent my flight, than to secure me from the injuries of the Cold and Wind as they pretended. I had this day endured so many fatigues, and had taken so little rest some Nights before, that I slept very sound till the Morning, when our Atteddants were in 〈◊〉 greater trouble than before, seeing themselves in 〈◊〉 unknown Country in the midst of a vast Forest, the Wether very misty, the ways exceeding bad, without Guide or Victuals, and without hopes of being able to reach to any other place.  
They unharnessed the Horses of the Coach, and unbridled those of the Troopers, who were mo● happy than their Masters in that they had whe● with to fill their Bellies. This Accident rejoiced me exceedingly in my Troubles: Well, my Friend's (said I) you have carried me away by force to 〈◊〉 me with hunger: I shall take my Death very patiently, for I desire nothing else but to have you ●eep me Company; this I am sure goes against the ●●ain with you. My Maid was upon the point of despair; in the mean time I had the comfort of in●lting over her in my turn. Wretch that thou art, ●●d I. thou art the cause of my Death, but righteous Heaven will that thou die with me; and where●s I shall receive Consolation and Joy, thou art to expect nothing else but the Torment due to thy Treasons.  
These words filled her with Confusion and Depair, for she had not a word to answer. After some ●●me we again set forward; but 'twas past Noon by ●●y Watch, when we found ourselves in the same ●●ace, and the mist was so thick that we could discern our way not better than in the Night. At length was resolved to sand our four Troopers into four ●arts of the Wood to inquire the way, and to get 〈◊〉 some Victuals. Three of them returned to us, ●●ter having rid a great way, and taken a great deal ●f Pains to no purpose, 'Twas than that I believed 〈◊〉 earnest that we should be all starved; and having ●ten but little for two days before, I was so very weak ●at I sainted, and they had a great deal of trou●●e to bring me to myself, though they threw abundance of water on my Face.  
Just as I was recovered, the fourth Trooper re●rned▪ and told us that about a League and half of, ●e should found a good Village; whereupon I went ●●to the Coach again, but not having strength to 〈◊〉 upright, I was forced to lie along; those that ●ept me Company placed themselves as well as they ●uld, that they might not incommode me; and 〈◊〉 the end of some Hours we came to the Village, 〈◊〉 the great joy of all our Company besides my ●f. In this Village we had some New Adventures, ●●t you must give me leave to defer the Relation of them till another time.   

CHAP. V  
THe whole Company being again met, one 〈◊〉 them desired Madamoiselle de St. Phale to pursue her History; for, said she, we left you in 〈◊〉 Wood, dying for Hunger, favour us so far as to acquaint us how you recovered your Life and Liberty.  
There are some, answered she, that take such 〈◊〉 Delight in relating their Miseries, that when t●ey found no Men to hear them, will utter their Complaints to inanimate Creatures: I am not of this Humour, for 'tis to me a doubling of my Afflictions to relate them; yet I will deny myself to please you, if you can indeed found any pleasure in hearing that which so little deserves to be heeded by you.  
The fourth Trooper that was sent to inquire the way, had indeed better success than the other three, but was so imprudent as not to take with him any Victuals, or a Guide to direct us, which 〈◊〉 knew not whether to call an Happiness or Misery, because I rather desired Death than feared i● I lay in the Coach employed only in Prayers and spiritual Meditations. Be of good Courage Mademoiselle, said the elder of those two to whom m● Mother had committed me, we are told there i● a Village within a League and half, in which yo● may rest and refresh yourself. I hope, said 〈◊〉 I shall dye before I come thither, and that thereby God will deliver me from my Mother's Valence, and you from the reproach of being its Ministers. Madam d● Ombreval, answered he, loves yo● tenderly, and what she has done is only o●t●● fear, lest you should ruin yourself, and she d●●●ires nothing else but to place you where you may entertain better Thoughts than those you had, and which have obliged her to use you as she doth. Though these words were somewhat insolent, yet I contented myself with saying, That God is righteous, and will sooner or later reward men according to their wicked Designs.  
Possibly you may wonder that my Mother should have so far lost her reason, as to abandon an only Daughter to the discretion of two men, four Troopers, and a Chambermaid whose damnable wickedness she well knew. I must say thus much in her ●ustification, that these two men were in a sense al●●d to our house, that the Elder had always a great ●eal of passion for my Mother's interest, who for ●er part loved him and did him many kindnesses: 〈◊〉 that he whose Name was Monsieur de Rabours, ●aving but a mean Estate, and being driven to ●ome straits, had reason to keep in m● Mother's Favour, who paid him well for his Services. My Mo●her sent for him, discovered her Design to him, ●nd furnished him wi●h necessary Directions and Pro●sion for carrying me into a Cloister till further ●rder. The Younger was a very honest Youth, 〈◊〉 a good Carriage, and the others Nephew, and ●ould ●ain have discoursed with me, had I not been 〈◊〉 carefully watch'r by his Uncle and my Maid  
The Evening approaching, my Maid left the ●ach, and the Uncle went to give some Direction to ●e Troopers and the Coachman for their being ready ●e next Morning, which gave the young Rabours ●e opportunity of speaking thus. I● you, Mada●o●●elle (said he) have been deceived, so have I, 〈◊〉 I could never have imagined that they had e●●ged me in so base an action as this is. To conduce you of my Repentance, command me any ●●g in which I may serve you, and I'll readily do ●as become a Man of Honour. Do you, said I, speak sincerely? for after such baseness I have reason to distrust the whole World. If I deceive you, said he, may Heaven crush me with its Thunder, but my Actions shall free you from suspecting my sincerity. And for my part, said I, if God be so gracious to me as to free me out of these Troubles by your Means, I promise' you as great an acknowledgement as you can expect from a Virgin of my Birth. Go, do the best you can, I give you full power to take what Course you can for my Deliverance.  
We had hardly ended this short Discourse, when my Maid returned, and immediately after the Old Rabours, and a Countryman with him. Here's a good Man said he, which is as it were an Angel sent from Heaven, who offers to guide us to the Town of— will you go thither to Night (said he?) You know, (said I very coldly) that I have no will left me, do what you please. I believe, Mademoiselle, (said the Nephew) that we had best go thither this Evening, and am certain that all of us shall be better there than here: Do what you will, said 〈◊〉 you have no power ever me but what God hath given you, and which he can also take from you. Hereupon the Uncle and the Nephew discoursed together some short time, and the result of their Consultation, was, That the Troopers were commanded to bridle their Horses which fed at large, and th● Coachman to harness his, which was all done in 〈◊〉 quarter of an hour. When every thing was read● the Countryman who perfectly knew all the tur●ings of the Forest, got upon the Coach, and a●● that a small wind had dissipated the Fog, the Moo● s●●ne very bright, so that all things seemed to concur for our Deliverance, out of what seemed to 〈◊〉 an enchanted Forest.  
We had an hours riding before we could 〈◊〉 the Village; but when we were on●●● o● out of 〈◊〉 Wood, every one of us seemed somewhat comforted, in the hopes we had of refreshing ourselves when we came to our Quarters, whither at length we came, though 'twas after Eleven at Night. As soon as we were come, I fell into a deeper swoon than ever; so that they could not bring me to myself, either by throwing water on my face, or by any torment they inflicted on me. At length we arrived at the Gate of the best Inn in the whole Place, where the old Rabours demanded whether there were any Lodgings for us: the Landlady of the House replied, That all her Chambers were taken up by the Company of another Coach, except two, which, if we liked them, were at our service, and invited us to see them: For my part, (said the Nephew) I judge it best to take any that we can have; for seeing she now lies in a swoon, if she should hap to dye under our hands, we shall be accused of being her Murderers; and her Mother who hath committed her to you, will not fail of requiring the Life of her Daughter of you, and make herself a Party against you. You say well, Cousin, said the Uncle, (as I was since told) let us carry her up, her indisposition is caused only by weariness, fasting, and the fatigues that she hath endured; one moments rest and refreshment will recover her, and to morrow we'll continued her Journey.  
Having said thus, they took me out of the Coach, more like a dead Person than a living, and laid me on a Bed, where I found myself as soon as I revived, encompassed with a great many People, who were very earnest to help me; amongst others there were two very beautiful Ladies that sat on my Bedside, and a Lady that seemed to be their Mother. I looked upon them with a great deal of disturbance, which Persons use to be under upon their recovery out of a swoon: Is it possible (said I) that I am yet alive? O how much better for me is Death than Life! Madamoiselle, said the old Lady, consider I pray you, that seeing we are ignorant of what God hath determined concerning us, 'tis the Duty of a Christian to resign herself entirely to his Will, and to follow the Example of Jesus Christ our Lord, and to say with him, Not my Will, but thy Will be done.  
Madam, (answered I,) I am extremely obliged to you, for your Civilities towards a poor Stranger, who was the day before yesterday, happy amongst all those of her Birth and Quality, and whom you now see to be a wand'ring Vagabond, ready to dye under the Cruelty of her Mother, who intends to force her into a Convent: But Madam, added I, may I know to whom I am obliged for the care you have taken of me, for methinks you speak not the Language of Roman Catholics. No Mademoiselle, replied she, neither I nor my two Daughters do, nor by God's assistance ever shall speak it. Blessed be the Lord, said I. that hath made me meet with some of the ●●oushold of Faith, such as are enlightened by his Truth. Hereupon I remembered what I had heard my Father say on his Deathbed. O the depth of the Richeses, of the Wisdom, and of the Knowledge of God How wondered are his Judgements, and his ways passed sl●●●ng n●t! I have been hurried out of my Father's House to be cast into an Abyss, out of which I am hardly escaped; and God hath by his good Providence cast me into such Company, as were capable of returning me into the way of Life, had I s●raved from it.  
In the mean time the Uncle and the Nephew looks on each other with some surprise: At length the Uncle impatient of any further delay, and vexed at our discourse, Mademoiselle, said he, I believe you are now strong enough to eat, for we must go hence in two hours. And for my part, said I, I am weary of travelling by N●ght, and declare that I will not leave this place ti●l the M●●ning. Madamoiselle, said he, I shall only tell you, that I dare not transgress the Orders your Mother hath given me. Hath my Mother (said I in a Passion,) hath my Mother commanded you to kill me with Misery and Hunger on the Road? and hath she obliged you to be my Executioner, as you have almost been already? I cannot (replied he with some heat) be your Executioner, since I endure the same fatigue that you do, your swooning excepted. But to tell you plainly, know, that I have Orders not to stop in any place where there are any H●gono's, and I am resolved not to transgress them; wherefore, Mademoiselle, prepare yourself for your Journey, in two hours at farthest. If you drag me hence, said I, you shall do it by piece-meal, for I had ra●h●r dye than be any longer in the hands of such a Fruit a● you are.  
The Nephew hearing this Discourse, Uncle, (said he) you must not too strictly follow the Orders, which Madam d' Ombreval gave you, who never imagned that such Accidents would have befallen her Daughter. There are certain occasions in which we must be governed by Prudence. Monsieur Nephew, (said the old Rabours, with a kind of forced smile) you are but a Young Man 'tis not your part to give Counsel, neither will I take it. 'Twill appear in the end (said the young Rabours) who will have most thanks: Hereupon he arose and left the Chamber for a quarter of an hour.  
Whilst he was out of our Company, he went into a lower Room where the Troopers were, who eat and drank very hearty, thereby endeavouring to make amendss for their former trouble. They did not ●●a●l observe him so that he took their Carbines and Pistols, and made the Powder that was in their 〈◊〉 ●o were, that 'twere impossible to discharge them without a Miracle. He would also have seized on their Hunger's, but he could not found them. Having done thus, he returned towards the Chamber, and met at the Stair-head a Gentleman that said thus unto him: Is it possible, Sir, that this Lady is the Daughter of Monsieur d' Ombreval, formerly Campmaster, who died some months since? The very same, Sir, said the Nephew: If so, said the Gentleman, your Life or mine shall go, before you shall carry her any where against her Mind. There's no need of that, said the young Rab●urs, and if you are a Person of Honour, I desire your assistance. Explain yourself (replied the Gentleman): I'll explain myself in this Chamber (answered he,) and immediately they came both into the Chamber where we were.  
He found his Uncle, who still earnestly urged me to arise, I don't know what he would have done at length, but the sight of his Nephew, who came and sat at my B●ds foot, stopped his mouth. Madamoiselle, (said the Nephew to me) set your mind at rest. I assure you I will dye at your feet be●ore th●● shall offer you any Violence. I have been drawn in to be a Partner in a base Action; I was utterly ignorant of the Design, but now I plainly see the injustice they have done you, I a● resolved to make a reparation for a fault that I have against my Will committed. Than I am delivered, cried I, with a transport of Joy, I see how God doth from time to time provide means for my assistance. You don't know all, said he, for Mounsieur here (showing me the Gentleman) was about to have fought me, thinking that I had been one of your Ravishers. Immediately the Gentleman came to salute me, and made me many obliging Protestations, whom I answered with such Civilities as were suitable to my present Necessity, and as so generous a Gentleman deserved In the mean time the old Rabours left the Chamber, and his Nephew believed that he was gone to work no ordinary mischief, which caused him to have a secret Conference with this Gentleman and another that was his Companion, a man of great honesty and bravery: The result was, that the Ladies were to retire into a Chamber, where they might be free from all Insults. The old Lady was afraid some mischief would be done, but Ra●●●rs assured her, that all the mischief would be ●●me ●●ise and a vain fear, and that he had taken sufficient care to prevent all other. They led me therefore into their Chamber, the Door of which we bolted, where instead of going to Bed, we fell to Prayers, that God would prevent the Misery wherewith I was threatened.  
We were but just gone away when the old Ra●●●rs came up the Stairs, followed by the four Tro●pers, with their Pistols at their Girdles, and their Carbines in their Hands, intending to carry me away by force, and to kill all that should oppose their Design; they found the young Rabo●●s, to whom the Gentlemen had lent a Pistol, which he held in one hand, with his Sword drawn in the other, and the two Gentlemen were in the same Posture: They had left the Door open, so that they might freely enter; the old Rabours rushed in first, ask for me: She is, (said one of the Gentlemen named monsieur d' Arbaux,) gone to her rest, with Persons of honour, with whom 'tis fit she should be than with such as you. If she comes not immedlately and go with me, assure yourselves that it shall cost you dear, be you what you will, especially that Traitor there, (pointing to his Nephew.) We have had to do with worse Lads than you are, (said the Gentleman very boldly) and you are not such as we should be afraid of.  
The old Rabours stayed not to return any Answer, but presenting his Pistol to his Nephew's Breast, Rask●●, said he, bring me Madamoiselle de St. Phale, or thou art a dead Man. Uncle, replied the Nephew pray address yourself to some body else, for I would not have the honour of fight with you. This scorn●●● Answer enraged the old Rabours beyond meas●●● so that be endeavoured to have discharged h●s Pistol on his Nephew; but as the young Rabours kn●w very well before, it took not fire. However this Attempt of his Uncle so enraged him, that he fell upon him, threw him to the ground, and wrested his Sword out of his hand. The Troopers endeavoured to assist the Uncle, but the Gentlemen hindered them, which forced him to cry out, Fire ●ou cowardly Rascals, fire upon them. They needed not many words to move them to this, but immediately attempted to discharge their Carbines, 〈◊〉 had no m●●● effect than if they had been loade● and primed with Shot, which made them bet●●●●●●●●elves to their Pistols, but the thing was ●●ll the same. The Gentlemen irritated with th●se affronts, gave them many blows with the ●●●s of their Swords, threw them to the ground, and ●rod them under their Feet; all which they did with ease, as having to do with Persons that were half Drunk; they also took from them their Carbines and Pistols: In a word, the young Rabours told me the next Morning, that there was never seen a more furious Combat without any Blood shed.  
The old Rabours, who was much more vexed for having l●st me, than for all the ill success of his Enterprise, knew not what measures to take: for my Mother, on whose Charity he lived, he concluded would for ever banish him her presence; and this was what he feared more than any thing else in the World. He found the Landlady of the House, and enquired of her what the Name of the Judge of that Village was, but he happened to be from home. This mock-fight being over, as I have related it, the three Gentlemen came laughing into our Chambers, and showed us the prey they had gotten from their Enemies. After they had been with us for some time, the Old Lady said to us, Let us not laugh yet, for I am still afraid of some unhappiness of this business; not that those who attacked you can do us any injury, but Madam d' Om●●●●● will certainly arm all the whole Church of R●●e against us, to revenge this Affront, as soon a● she shall hear of it. You have no reason to fear (●●●d I) for none of them knows my Deliverers: A●d if the storm must fall on any Body, 'twill be on the young Rabours, whom yet I hope to found a 〈◊〉 to secure from it. Let us only consider (said M●●sieur d A●bau●) what course to take to mor●●●●●r Madamois●lle de St. Phale must, if she a●p●●ve it, go with us. This offer was too advantage us to be refused, so that I embraced it with a● my heart.  
Whilst we were discoursing of these things, one of the Troopers came up to our Chamber, desiring to speak with the young Rabours, who would not ●ear him, but in the presence of all the Company, to which he consented, and confessed that he had been unhappily engaged in a shameful Action; and t●at if he would restore his Carbines and Pistols, ●e would immediately retire to his own home. And why should we take your word, answered he? have we not just reason to believe, after the Attempt you have made on us, that should we deliver ●ou your Arms, you would employ them against us: I confess, replied the Trooper, you have reason to suspect me; but if I immediately return home, I believe you are generous enough to sand them me, and in this hope I leave them with you.  
Methought the Troopers offer was very reasonable, so that I answered in Rabours his stead, that he should certainly have his Arms restored, if he would keep his Promise. I also fancied that this Trooper might be of farther use to me; and therefore, Friend, (said I) how much were you promised for your Pains? tell me freely. Madamoiselle, (answered he) I'll conceal nothing from you: Madam your Mother promised each of us four Lovis d'ors, whereof we received one in hand, besides all Charges, which were to be paid by Monsieur Rabours. You know, (said I) that not having carried me to the place appointed, you will be frustrated of the rest of your payment, and God grant that she deal not more severely with you, for you may easily imagine that now you shall never carry me with you, and hat those who have delivered me out of the hands of Rabours, will defend me from his Violence I have told you already, Mademoiselle, (replied the Trooper,) and I again assure you, that I'll not ●e any more concerned with them, but immediately retire home: And to convince you that I truly repent of the Crime I have committed, I am ready, if occasion offer, to spend my Life in your Defence.  
I thank you, said I, yet I have thought upon a way in which you may advantageously serve me, without exposing yourself to any danger, and I assure you, you have reason to promise' yourself a better gratuity from me, than you could expect from my Mother, though you had succeeded in your project. Go to your Companions, show them the impossibility of carrying me hence; and that consequently they must expect not further Reward from my Mother, but assure them that if they will all of them return home, they shall receive the four Lovis d'ors from my Brother, to whom I'll writ in their Favour; and for my own part I promise' you six, besides what you may expect from my Liberality. My Companions (said he) are so drunk and mad, that they talk of nothing but of burning the house, to revenge themselves of the Affront which they have received; but were they once come to themselves, I might possibly work somewhat upon them. You may assure them, that my Brother will not fail of pursuing us, according to the Advice that I have given ●im; who, if he found them before they have ma●● their peace with me, will deal with them without any mercy.  
Indeed, Mademoiselle, replied the Trooper, you have brought a very pleasant Stratagem into my head, and which may have good success. Let some one of the Gentlemen that are with you, feign himself to be sent from Monsieur de Ponsins, and let him inquire at this house whether you are, or have been here, or any can discover where you are gone? I'll ●n●●r●●●● the Landlady in what she ought to say, and i● the Gentleman ask for you, come to your Chamber-door and answer him according to his Demands. In the mean time I'll place my Companions in a place where they shall hear all that passeth, and I'll so terrify them with the coming of Monsieur de Ponsins, that they shall immediately take Horse and fly with all imaginable speed, leaving Monsieur Rabours with the Coach in pawn for the reckoning.  
This Device was very well approved of by all our little Assembly, and something also was added to it, and one of the Gentlemen offered to act the part of the Trooper that was to be sent out upon the Enquiry; he immediately drew on his Boots, and fitted himself for the Journey, and having gotten his Horse in a readiness, he went down by a private pair of Stairs, mounted, and having fetched a compass, about  he returned by the Highway to the House in which we were, where being come, he desired to speak with the Landlord, upon which the Landlady appearing, Madam, (said he) is there not a Coach lately come to your House? There are two, answered she: But is there not one, (replied the pretended Trooper) in which is a young Lady clothed in mourning, accompanied with two Men and a Chambermaid, and guarded with four Troopers? There is such a one, (said the Landlady,) but would to God I had never seen it, it hath caused such uproars in my House. What, (said he) have these People been guilty of any Disorder? hereupon the Landlady gave him a full Account of what he knew very well before, with many pleasant Exaggerations. Madam, answered Monsieur de Chables, (for so was the Gentleman called,) done't trouble yourself, they shall pay for the damage they have done you; and if you have any resentment against these Wrete●es, you shall have the pleasure within these two Hours to see yourself fully revenged on them: You but jest with me, (said she.) To convince you (answered he) that I speak sincerely, know that I belong to Monsieur de Ponsins, the Brother of Madamoiselle de St. Phale, who is but a little way of with a number of Troopers, whom he hath sent into all Parts to inquire for the Coach which he seeks; I have been so happy as to found it, and will now return to inform him of it. But I would first speak one word with Madamoiselle de St. Phale, you can hardly do that Sir, (said the Landlady,) she is in Read, and I dare not disturb her. My Business to her (said the Trooper) is of the greatest importance, hold, there's a Crown for you, do me this favour. The Landlady made him a low reverence, and readily taking the Crown, said, she would do what she could: All these things were contrived before; so that I was up, and seemed very willing to discourse with the Trooper, who came up the Stairs, taking his Pistols with him, and met me at my Chamber door. I am (said he) beyond expectation happy to found you and discourse with you. Your Brother is but two short Leagues of, well accompanied: So that if you can but retard your Journey two hours, you will be absolutely delivered. I believe, (answered I) that those who have so generously assisted me in my need, will not leave so ●●●●●urable an Action imperfect, but will continued ●●eir assistance till that time; but yet I beg you let ●ere be no delay. No Mademoiselle, said he, you 〈◊〉 ●re no need to fear that: After this he went 〈◊〉, remoun●ed his Horse, and returned by the 〈◊〉 ●e came a swift Gallop; and having fetch d a 〈◊〉 Compass came into the backdoor of the House, ●●ere a Servant waited for him, plucked of his ●●●●s, and came up to the Chamber where we ●●e●e, by the private Stairs, none perceiving any ●●●ng of this farce but those that were made acquainted with it.  
In the mean time Gonjou played his Game well 〈◊〉 ●he other hand, (for so was the repenting Troop●●●●●●ed) for he took care to make his Compani●● hear the Dialogue between Monsieur de Chables 〈◊〉 the Landlady, and afterwards that between 〈◊〉 and me, for we spoke aloud on purpose. The landlady told me, when I spoke to the pretend●● Trooper, that I need not be afraid the other ●●●●pers would hear me, for said she, being drunk ●●e P●ggs, they'll sleep like Pigs. Yet they hear●●ned very attentively, the first vapours of their ●●●ne being spent, so as they were capable of Rea●●n▪ and it may be of Fear. For my part, said 〈◊〉, I'll be gone, I am not mad to wait the coming of Monsieur de Ponsins, 'twill be dreadful to ●●eet him when he is in a rage: I am sure if I can ●●id meeting him here, I shall make my peace ●●th him; but if I should meet him here, I shall 〈◊〉 dealt worse with than I have already been. Farewell my Friends, I'll advice you nothing, you know ●●at you have to do; for my part, I am resolved 〈◊〉 retire while I may, without staying any longer 〈◊〉 the Storm.  
These words spoken by the bravest of the four, ●●uck them all with amazement, and made them resolve to be gone. But how shall we do this? (said one of the three● we have not only lost all hope of the four I●●●●s 〈◊〉 ●s, but they have taken also from us our Carb●●es and P●●●●●●: I dare not return a●ter such an Affronted. I ha● r●ther tarry till Mons●●ur de Pon●●● comes, though I hazard my Life by it. We ma● do what's much better▪ said ●onjou, Madamoiselle d● St P●a●e is Good and Generous, let's beg her Pardon▪ a●d submit ourselves to her Will▪ we can get ●o ●●rt b● doing thus Let'● go, said the other, my m●nd gives m● all will ●e ●ell●▪ he two other Troop●rs rea●●y embraced this Advice; so that Go●●● who ●●●ught them to me, and who spa●e the ●e●t of the four, spoke for all the rest, as near as I can remember in these words. Madamoiselle, said he▪ here are we four penitent Crimina ss, come to implore ●our Mercy: We confess we have done a ●●ss, and those that seduced u● never told us that we were to ●e Assistants in so ●ase a Violence muc● les● 'gainst a Per●●n of your Merit. But though we mig●●●ather have recourse to your Clemency, and beg y●● to pardon us, and we shall immediately re●urn to our own homes, it you please to order our Arms to be restored to us.  
I would not (said I) do you any hurt for what you have done against me, both because you were seduced, and because you never lost the respect you owed me, but when you were not yourselves, so that I pardon you with all my heart. Your Pistols shall be restored you, but for your Carbines, you are not to expect them till you are a●vour own homes, Prudence obligeth me to deal thus with you. I assure you also of my Brother's Pardon, who will pay you more than my Mother promised you, for which I pass my word before all these worthy Persons present They seemed very well satisfied with wha● I said. After this they withdrew, and went to see the Old Rabours, who was almost mad at this Change. They quarrelled s●me time about the Reckoning; but I sent them ●●●d that they should be gone, and that I would d●●●●rge●t, and keep the promise I had made them. They therefore left us about s●x in the Morning, it ●eing day all abroad.  
Hitherto all things went well, ●ut the excess of my happiness had like to have caused me greater trouble than that which I had escaped. My Brother was indeed in the Country making a diligent search for us▪ accompanied with Monsieur de Haute-Cour, and twelve Troopers, who were all of them either of ●he Reformed Religion, or extraordinary Admirers ●f my Brother They foun● out the wa● that we ●ad taken, and hav●ng Guides they passed through the Wood without los●●g themselves as we ●ad done, they road hard all N●ght▪ and were but a quarter of a League from this fatal Village, when they met our four Troopers, who were surrounded with their twelve, and Monsieur de Haute-Cour and m● Brother were about to have sacrificed them to their Fury; which Gonjou seeing Monsiour de Ponsin●, (said he) I ●eg you not to follow the first motions of your Anger, but hear me. We are going back by Madamoiselle de St Phales' leave, who is at Liberty, and hath promised us, upon Condition that we would leave her▪ to make our peace with you. And where is my Sister? (said my Brother,) She is (continued Gonjou) in the Village that is before you in very good Company. If you please we'll guide you thither. Yes (answered my Brother) you shall go with us, either freely or by constraint; for, said he, if you ha●e given her the lest reason to complain, or have lost that respect you owed her, your Lives shall answer it. We are very well pleased (said Gonjou) with what you say, we'll go with you with all our hearts. Hereupon they were all four placed in the midst of the t●elve Troopers, and making what convenient haste they c●uld towards the Village▪ came thither just as we were about to break our Fast, we having had no great de●●●e to eat any thing in so trou l●some● Night. As s on as 〈◊〉 heard the noise of the Hor●●s in the Court, I looked ou● at the Window, and saw Monsieur de Haute-Cour and my Brother. I immediately made the greatest haste imaginable do●n, and ran to embrace my Brother: Al● S●s●●r, (said he) are you at liberty? Yes Brother, (sa●d I) thanks be to God I am. At this very instant Monsieur de Haute-Cour came up to me, and discovered by his Joy the terrible fear he had been under of los●ng me, at which I was extremely pleased  
In the mean time the two Gentlemen who had so generously defended me, together with the O●d Lady and 〈◊〉 t●o Daughters, came down to us: I presented th●● to m● Brother and Lover, and gave them an acc●●nt of their kindness towards me, to which th●y returned the most obliging answers in the World. The young Rabours thought not fit to appear with them; ●ut I declared his Carriage towards ●e, which so touched them, that they were imp●●ie●t till they saw him. At length he came, and my Brother and Lover affectionately embraced and thanked him for his Nobl● and Generous Actions, with many sincere Protestations never to forget them as long as they lived.  
All this while the Old Rabours lay upon a Bed, having his Mind tormented with a thousand cruel imaginations, he had not served my Mother according to her Expectations, and had mortally offended my Brother and me; not to mention Monsieur de Haute-Cour who had reason to be enraged with him; and his fear was increased, when he understood that my Brother, with all his Company, was come to the house in which we were. The Young Rabours entreated for him, that my Brother would pardon him: For your sake, said my Brother, I ●●u●d do harder things than this, though he hath ●●●●●amly forgot himself and his Duty; but seeing God ha●h been pleased to restore my Sister, I am ●●●●ent to pass by all. You are at Liberty, my Friends, (said he) to the Troopers, whom he had 〈◊〉 to come ba k with him. But there's more 〈◊〉 done, said I; I promised them four Louis d o'er 〈◊〉 if they would go home, and leave me at Li●●●●, which they did. Well Sister, I'll add to wh●t ●●u have promised them, and give each of t●●● Six. If (said I) you give them six a piece, 〈◊〉 must have ten; upon which I gave him an a●●●●nt of the Industry and Artifice which Gonjou ●●d made use of in serving me. I'll our bid you ●n●e more, Sister, (said my Brother) he shall have t●●●ve. But this is not all yet, said I, I must beg your Pardon for my waiting Maid. Indeed, answered; my Brother, ●tis against her that I am most enraged; this Wretch to whom you have shown so much kindness, and on whom you have laid so ●any o●l●gations, hath yet been so wicked to bet●ay you, I can hardly resolve to pardon so base a C●●a●ure; yet since you desire it, I will do it, however, I am resolved to terrify her a little for my satisfaction.  
As soon as we first came to this Village, this Wretch got her immediately into the Kitchen, and ●●d so hearty on what first came to hand, that she ●●ver thought on me; afterwards finding herself, ●●●ewhat sleepy, she thr●w h●r self upon a Bed, ●o that I saw her not more: She slept so hearty ●●at she heard nothing of all the disorders of the ●●ght. The People of the house showed us the Lam●●r in ●h ●h she lay, into which we should ●●●●e gone, had not the Young Rabours, who went 〈◊〉 s●●k his Uncle, brought h●m to us, partly wil●●gly, and partly by force. He was as pale as a Malefactor, that every minute expects the stroke of Death— I perceived the Confusion he was under, and pitied him; Monsieur de Rabours, (said I to him) lay aside your fear, my Brother hath already Pardoned you, and is disposed to bestow on you greater marks of his Generosity than ever you received from my Mother. Hereupon my Brother spoke to him thus:  
Monsieur de Rabours, said he, God who knows the secret of my Heart, is my witness, that I now have no grudge against you. 'Tis enough for me that I see your Designs frustated, as they were unhappily conceived. What did you think when you made your s●lf the Instrument of my Mother's Fur●, to act this Violence against my Sister, and drag her (as it were) against her Consent into a Convent? Where were those Principles of Generosity that ought to reign in a Gentleman, when you undertook an Action that many Peasants would have abhorred as unworthy and base? 'Tis true, you did nothing against the Daughter, but by the Mother's Order; but should you not have considered, that there are some Command's which Justice obligeth us not to obey? What right had ●ou in my Sister, that ●ou should presume to imprison her during her Life, or at lest so long as her Mother's rigour ●h●uld endure? What benefit could you ex●e●t from this? possibly some recompense from my Mother. But ●ad ●●u not reason to believe that in time her displeasure would give place to the voice of Nature; and that when my Mother should come to herself, she would be extremely troubled a● what she had done, and vent all her rage on th●se that had been too prompt and officious in serving her in it? What a shame is it that Monsieur you● Nephew should teach you your Duty, and that he should be the first that was sensible of the Injury he did, in pursuing so base an Enterprise? I'll say not more of this mat●er, bu● I assure you for your Comfort, that you ●●●a● promise' ●our self more kindness from me, ●●●●n ev●r my Mother showed you: And having said ●●u●, my Brother gave him his hand in token of 〈◊〉 perfect Reconciliation.  
The ●●d Rabours would have returned an Answer, ●ut my Brother perceiving the trouble he was under, s●●pt him, saying, I'll hear you another time. immediately he went into the Chamber, where my ●●●●d lay asleep; he had with him my Lover, ●●●r of his Troopers, and the Landlady of the 〈◊〉 use: This Wretch was still in a deep sleep, when 〈◊〉 Brother awaked her, pulling her violently by t●e Arm, Traitorous Wretch, said he, Where's my S●●●er▪ Upon this she started up, and was for some ●●●e not able to speak a word: Speak, said my Brother, Where's my Sister? unless thou wilt be immediately put upon the Back, and have thine accursed Life torn from thee by Violence; I'll wait not l●nger; Ropes there, presently; I am resolved to have the Pleasure of seeing the wickedest Creature the Sun ever saw, die in the midst of Torments. Ah Mounsieur, (cried she) she is at rest in a ●hamber here by. Not, Mistress, said the Landlady, you are our in that, she went away above three hours ag●e, in the Coach with the Gentlemen that ●●me wi●h her, and the four Troopers: And why (●●●d she weeping) did no Body call me, that I might have gone with them? The old Mounsieur de Rabours, replied the Landlady, told me, that he had Orders from Madam d' Ombreval, to leave you in the first Quarters they should lodge at, and to continued their Journey without you; 'tis true▪ they paid for you, so that you may go where you will, I have nothing to demand of you.  
It may be (said my Brother) you may have nothing to demand of her, but I have, I'll force her to tell me where my Sister's gone, for she knows the place to which they have carried her. Not, Mounsieur, said she, I'll swear I know nothing of it. Thou wilt not tell me, thou Wretch, (said he) bind her fast, I'll extort it from her by force; hereupon the Troopers came towards her with Ropes and read hot Pincers, which she seeing, screeche out aloud, wept, fell down at my Brother's Feet, embraced the Knees of my Lover, rolled herself on the ground, tore her Hair, Cursed her Destiny and Wickedness, which had reduced her to so much Misery. Confess, treacherous Wretch, said my Brother, where's thy Mistress. Alas, Mounsieur, (said she) I cannot tell: If you are resolved to kill me, yet what will it profit you to torment me, to force me to Confess what I do not know. I believe indeed (said the Landlady) that she doth not know, for the Reasons I have already told you. I am inclined to think so too, said my Brother, but she shall dye, she shall be hanged at the first Tree we come to, let some Body call: Priest to Coufess her. This Sentence filled her with Despair. Alas, my God, (said she) I have betrayed those that confided in me, and never did me any Injury, and I am betrayed by those whom I trusted; as I dealt with my good Mistress so am I now dealt with: Ah, Madamoiselle de St. Phale, Ah my good Lady, wherever you are, I beg you to believe, that I die with infi●●●e ●●gret for having betrayed you: Alas, you said but two days ago, that God is just, and that he would reward me according to my Deserts; I mocked you than, but I see now 'tis not good mocking any, especially those that have the Gift of Prophecy.  
Mounsieur de Haute-Cour and my Brother were forced to turn away their Faces, to hinder themselves from laughing; for my part, I heard all from the next Chamber, which was only parted from hers by a Ceiling of Boars, and I laughed as hearty as ever I did in my Life. Madam de Garde, her two Daughters, and the Mounsieurs d' Arbaux and the Chables, were of the same Humou●● At length I could hold not longer, but cried out aloud, Pardon, Pardon. Ah, cried the Criminal▪ 'tis the Voice of 〈◊〉 good Mistress: For God's sake Madamoiselle de St. Phale, come to my assistance, for I hope only ●n you 〈◊〉 Look▪ said Mounsieur d' Arbaux, you are made a Saint while you are alive, notwithstanding ●ou are an Huguenot, you cannot but assist a Devoto that Pra●s with so much earnestness, you will have ●o Cust mers if you neglect the first invocation that's addressed to you. I did not tarry to return 〈◊〉 Answer to this raillery, but went immedra●●ly ●nto the Chamber where my Brother and m●●over ●ere. As soon as my Maid saw me, the washed 〈◊〉 ●ee with her Tears, she kissed them, and made me ●n hundred Prayers, which I answered ma●f●● words. 〈◊〉 I would not, said I, speak for thee till now, bemuse I was sure they would do thee no other In●● but aft●●ght thee, though indeed I might justly ●●venge me on thee: But God ●orbid that I should ●●over any Animosity against any one, on a day 〈◊〉 which he hath miraculously delivered me out of 〈◊〉 Enemy's hansis. I pardon thee, and I do it sin●●trely, I am sorry that thou hast made thy sel● in●●able of living with me, 'twere a breach of Pru●●ce ever to trust thee more; but I'll give thee ●he Testimony not only of my Goodness, but also 〈◊〉 my La●●●ral●ry. You are my Good Mistress, an●●e●ed she, you can do nothing but what is Good 〈◊〉 Generous, I now feel myself sensibly touched 〈◊〉 an extreme regrert for having offended you, a grett that will eternally abide with you. I cau●● her to arise from the Ground, where she lay 〈◊〉 ●ra●e; afterwaads she begged my Brothers and 〈◊〉 Lovers pardon; they both pitied her and gave 〈◊〉 Money: I also opened a Coster which I had, and gave her somewhat of a good value, with 〈◊〉 promise that I would give her more hereafter.  
During these and some other passages, dinner wa● ready, which if it were not very delicate in itself yet the good Stomaches which we all had, made i● seem to be so. There were two Tables, at th● largest of which sat the sixteen Troopers, my Brother having strictly charged all that came with hi●● not to say any thing to the others about what had pased, for fear of some new disorder. At the other Table were Madam de Garde, her two Daughters the two Gentlemen her Sons in Law, viz. the Monsieurs d' Arbaux and the Chables, my Lover, Brother, and myself, with the two Rabours. All th● passages of the last Night were buried in silence, fo● fear of rubbing upon those wounds which coul● not yet be well healed.  
After Dinner we were much concerned to thin● what course we should take, especially with resp 〈◊〉 to me, where 'twas fit I should retire; and als● with respect to the Old Rabours, what he should say to my Mother, who we knew was not a Woman to be put of with bore pretences.  
As for what concerned me, Madam de Garde generously offered me her House, where I might safely make my retreat, till we should have more lesure to take new measures: This offer she made i● such an obliging manner, that I could not but accept it. Concerning the excuse of the Old Ra●●● 'twas thought fit that he should pretend that he ●fallen sick in a certain Village, and that during his S●●●ness, I had made my escape in a Disguise; and 〈◊〉 they could get no News of me, notwithstanding 〈◊〉 the Diligence they used. I confess I had some r●●● pugnance at passing in the World for a Runaway but my Brother told me that I must go out 〈◊〉 France Incognito, and that 'twas fit I should su●●mit to what I knew in my Conscience to be ●●●innocent, to which at length I consented, because my Brother and Lover approved of it, as done out of pure necessity.  
After these Resolutions were taken, and all the Troopers except the four first were sent back, and the reckoning discharged, we resolved to stop there all that day and the Night following, to refresh and rest ourselves. My Brother had a Conversation with Madam de Garde, and her two lovely Daughters, (who were the Wives of Monsieur d' Arbaux, and Mousieur de Chables,) who with the two Rabours spent some time in play, so that Monsieur de Haute-Cour and I were left alone.  
My Lover was extremely glad to see me delivered, because he was terribly afraid lest he had lost me for ever, which he would have done, had they carried me into the fatal Cloister where I was to have been buried alive. My Joy was not, it may be, inferior to his, though I had a greater command over myself than he had. Ladies (said Madamoiselle de St. Phale to the two Gentlewomen of Hamburgh,) when your time to Love is come, possibly you will excuse my Sentiments, it may you may be more a●●ficial Hypocrites than I am, in denying them. I won't tell you, said Mademoiselle Leonora, what I would do; I believe it, added Madamoiselle de St. Phale, for it may be you would do worse than I did. P●ay Mademoiselle, replied the other, continued your Relation, and afterwards I'll answer you.  
I shall not, (continued Madamoiselle de St. Phale) give you an account of all that passed between us, for there's a certain sweetness in the Discourses of such as are in Love, which cannot be found in such as are not under the power of this passion. I shall 〈◊〉 tell you, that depending on none but my Brother, whose Consent I had as well as my Father s before his Decease, I was not so Ceremonious with Monsieur de Haute-Cour, as I should have been, had we not been engaged. 'Tis true, one thing much troubled me, that Monsieur de Haute-Cour would not found those advantages with me, which he might have promised himself, were not the Reformed in France so outraged as they are. I discovered my regrett to my Love, who by his sincere words convinced me, that he only minded the qualities of my Person, that would I suffer him, he would have followed me wherever I went. He would also have given me indubitable Evidences of his fidelity, but I would not receive them, satisfyi●●g 〈◊〉 self with his word, as he did with mine.  
Our Conversation together was so long, that my Brother interrupted us, inviting us to take a little Walk. Immediately we went into the Garden, where my Brother taking Monsieur de Haute-Cour aside, discoursed a considerable while with him and the Old Raboars, who discovered a great many things to him which I could never persuade him to tell me, for fear of grieving me. Thus much only I learned, that my Mother had resolved to leave me in the Convent during my Life, to disinherit my Brother, and to bestow the greatest part of her Estate on the Jesuits, all at the instigation of the Father Matthew, who had made himself more absolutely than ever, Master of her Spirit.  
This Resolution which my Mother had taken up against my Brother, vexed me more than all that she had done to me, for methougt 'twas horribly unnatural. My Brother heard it with a great deal of Indifferency, and (as he told me) made only this reply, These are the ordinary effects of Bigotry, which makes Persons rob their own Children to enrich Strangers, especially Sergeant and dissembling Monks. My Brother thanked Rabours for this Discovery, and was resolved to take such measeres as might save his Paternal Rights. At length Monsieur de Haute-Cour, who understands the Mystery of ●agaging men's minds, discoursed the Old Rabours ●ith so much Affection and Reason, that he made him as Zealous for mine and my Brother's service, as ●●e had formerly been for my Mother's Interest.  
The Evening we supped together with greater cheerfulness than we had discovered at Dinner. Madam de Garde and I contracted an inviolable amity. I ●●odged with her in the same Bed, where she made me give her an account in what manner, and by what means I had embraced the Reformed Religion, at the relation of which she shed many Tears of joy and tenderness; and exhorted me to continued in the good way into which I had entered, and to make my Declaration as soon as I could, which I also resolved to do.  
The next Morning my Brother gave our Land-Lady what she demanded: We sat out very early, as we had need, because this day's Journey was very long, so that we could not reach the Castle of Madam de Garde till 'twas Night. At our entrance she did us all possible honour, receiving us with respect, and a thousand Caresses. I must confess that this house was a true School of Piety, in which the Holy Scriptures was daily read, and the whole discourse was employed about such things as are high and sublime. The Lady herself took a great deal of delight in conversing with my Brother, who had not misspent his time in the Academies. I abo●● in this house fifteen days with much pleasure 〈…〉 sweetness. Monsieur de Haute-Cour and my 〈◊〉 ●ther, with the two Rabours', to the Elder of 〈…〉 I was perfectly reconciled, stayed but two days with that As for the Troopers they were lodged at another Pl●●●o's At the end of this time my Brother and L●● minds turned to their own houses, the one whereo● fear; but two days Journey, the other three from 〈◊〉 ●●dam de la Guards Castle, promising to m●●● aga●●●● in a short time, and return thither. 'Twas resolved that I should some days after writ a Letter to my Mother, dated from London, not so much out of hopes to re-obtain her favour, as to testify the deference which I still had for her.  
Madamoiselle de St. Phale would have proceeded farther in her Narrative, but the approach of a Danish Vessel to that in which she was, obliged her to defer it till another time.   

CHAP. VI  
THE little Society whom Mademoiselle de St. Phale was pleased to honour with the Account of her Life, being again met, she continued her Relation in these words:  
I was (said she) in the Castle of Madam de la Garde, to whom I gave an account of all the Accidents that had befallen me, before those whereof she was an Eye-witness. This account augmented the tenderness which she and her two illustrious Daughters had for me. I received such kindnesses from them as I shall never forget, and had fresh Consolations every moment. I shall not relate all that passed in my Heart, which, notwithstanding the Favours I received, enjoyed but little rest and quiet. 'Tis enough that I tell you, 〈◊〉 they daily invented a thousand innocent plea●● 〈◊〉 to divert me, as walking, hunting, Consorts 〈◊〉 ●●ck, in which Madam de la Garde, and her 〈◊〉 ●ughters bore a part, together with the Gentlemen her Sons in Law, who sung Psalms every day 〈◊〉 ●ther. I was extremely taken with this exer●●●●●●g charmed with the force of the words, 〈◊〉 sweetness of the Harmony, which moved 〈◊〉 read the Psalms, and get them by heart; and to study the Airs for my own Consolation. But this Discourse of singing of Psalms, brings to my mind a singular Adventure, which I cannot but give you an Account of.  
About two short Leagues from Madam de la Gard's Castle, is a Mountain, famous for the large Caves that are in it: We were resolved to see it, and to this end ordered our Dinner to be sent early in the Morning, and by Ten a Clock in the Forenoon we also came thither. We were provided with a Tinderbox and Torches to see these Caves, and only made a short Collation, reserving our Dinner till we should return. We entered into the Caves by the assistance of our Torches, but before we had gone sixty Paces, going into the Mountain from one Cave to the other, the Daughters of Madam de la Garde and I began to be afraid. Madam de la Garde laughed at our fear, and continued on her way till we came to a certain place, where there were so many Concavities, that many Echoes repeated the lest noise that we made. The Primitive Christians, said Madam de la Garde, Praised God in Caves and Holes of the Earth, in this we ought to imitate them, being on the Point of being reduced to the same necessity; and having said thus, she began to sing the 90th. Psalms, in which we all bore our parts.  
Lord, thou hast been our dwelling, thou  
In Ages all our sure abode,  
Before the Mountains were brought forth,  
Or thou hadst formed the World and Earth,  
From everlasting thou art God.  
We made a short pause between every Verse, that we might have the pleasure of Hearing the Echoes repeat what we had sung, which so ravished our minds with admiration, that we began to lay aside all sear; when we had sung this last Verse,  From everlasting thou art God: 
we heard a miraculous Voice that came from a Concavity aside of us, which finished the Couplet or Stave of the Psalm, and distinctly sung this Verse—  And wilt be ever, Lord, as now. 
The fear that seized us was so terrible, that I almost wonder we had not been Converted into Stones by it: Madam de la Garde, as Courageous a Woman as she was, and our two Gentlemen, were struck dumb: But we were awaked out of this Lethargy, by hearing the Voice again, which sung the second Couplet of this Psalm.  
Thou, Lord, by thine Almighty Power  
Man to Destruction dost turn,  
And sayest, men's Children turn to me,  
For a thousand Years in thy sight be  
As yesterday that's past and gone,  
As Night-watch, or the shortest hour.  
This second Singing removed the terrible apprehensions that we were under. We have no need to fear (said Madam de la Garde) where the Praises of God are sung; And yet I Pray thee, added she, whoever thou art, be thou an Angel or a Man, to continued thy singing. The Voice answered this Request, by singing those words of the 137 Psalms,  
Alas what reason can us move  
To sing the Praises of the God of Love,  
In such a Land where we  
But miserable Strangers be?  
The more we heard of this Voice, the more were we ravished with it. Are we (said I) in a Romantic Country, that we hear such Angelical Voices in Desert Places? Not, (said Madam de la Garde) Psalms, or the Praises of God are but little minded there, which makes me confident that here must be somewhat very mysterious, which I have an earnest desire to discover, so that I am resolved to see from whence this Voice comes. She had not sooner said thus, but the Voice began again, but in so doleful a Tune, as I fancied capable of softening the very Rocks.  

O Lord in mine adversity  
Draw near unto my Soul, and save  
It from my Cruel Enemies,  
Who still me persecuted have.   

My shame, dishonour, and reproach.  
Are known (O Lord my God) to thee,  
Also my Bloody Enemies  
And Foes, all in thy Presence be.   

Reproach hath broke my Heart, and I  
Am full of Heaviness, I looked  
For Pity, but there was not one  
That on me any Pity took.   

I sought for Comfort, but I found  
None that would Comfort me at all;  
They gave me Vinegar for Drink.  
And for my Meat they gave me Gall.   
This mournful Voice having sung these Words, we heard no more, except some soft Groans and Sighs. I verily believe, said Madam de la Garde to me, that this is some afflicted Christian of our Brethrens, let's go and help him. Hereupon we went towards the place whence the Voice seemed to come, where we saw somewhat like a Man, of a proper Stature, clothed with such Garments as appeared to have been once very genteel and handsome, but so torn and covered with dust, that 'twas impossible for us to judge what Stuff or Colour it was of: The Countenance of this Apparition was lean, pale, and dejected; he had on his Head a Cap, like those that are usually worn by Polanders, which covered his grey Hairs, which were all ruffled, and a great Beard, grown quite our of Fashion, of the same colour with his Hait. In a word, every thing both in the Person and Habit of this Solitary, was extraordinary and astonishing. We were much afraid at the sight of him, and had it not been for Madam de la Garde, who on this occasion had more Courage than the Gentlemen that accompanied us, we had certainly fled; but our Fear vanished as soon as we heard him begin to Discourse with Madam de la Garde.  
Blessed be God, said he, that being confined to this Cave for the rest of my days, God hath been so gracious to me as to give me the sight of some good Christians, that have not bowed the Knee to the Roman Idols, nor been partakers of their abominations: Indeed, added he, I had forgotten what Joy means, before I saw you, but now my Heart is full of it, for I see that God hath not forsaken me, seeing I am visited by Persons that fear his Name, and call on him in Purity and Truth.  
Good God, replied Madam de la Garde, without making any other reflection on what he said, methinks I should know your Voice, which much resembles that of a Man of great worth of our Religian, who hath been for some time lost, and was thought to be made away privately, since none could give any Account of him. She spoke these last words so low, that none but the Solitary could hear them. I believe, Madam, answered he, that you know me, for I know you very well, you are Madam de la Garde, a true Pattern of Virtue, Piety and Constancy to all those of the Religion, and I am— 'Tis enough, said she, interrupting him, not suffering him to tell who he was, because of the Lackeys that were present, and bore the Torches: After which she took him aside, and they discoursed together a large hour, during which we visited several of the little Caves, in which we found nothing of Curiosity; so that we came back as soon as we heard that Madam de la Garde had ended her Conversation with the Solitary, whom she earnestly invited to eat with us; but he excused himself very handsomely, and with much Civility, and returned to his dark Habitation.  
As soon as we were out of the Cave, and Madam de la Garde had sent away the Lackeys, about some little business: You would never think, (my Children) said she, that this poor Man I discoursed with but now, was not only famous once for Zeal, Piety, Virtue and Charity, but also for his Richeses and Reputation. We may truly say, that he was the support of such poor men as were persecuted for their Religion: Such as were spoiled of their Estates he maintained out of his own; such as their Enemies endeavoured unjustly to oppress he defended; the Afflicted found a great deal of Comfort from him. He made good his Ground for a long time against Doctors, Great Men and Soldiers, against Priests and Monks. When the greatest Tempest began to arise against us, and the Pastor of his Church being terrified with the Apprehensions of Danger, left it to the Discretion of the wild Boars of the Forest, he alone stood fast, and bear the shock of all the Assaults that were made upon this poor Flock. Insomuch that the Rage of the Enemies of the Truth against him grew so great, that the lest Injury they did him was to take his Estate from him. He was forced to fly from his home, and to wander many days in continual danger of being seized and ruined. In the mean while the Members of his Church were scattered, many of them fled, some into Holland, others into England, and some that were unsound revolted from the Truth. For his part he was resolved not to tarry in France, but to retire into Germany: And whilst the Clouds were ga herring, and the Tempest, with which he was at last overtaken, was at a distance, he gathered a pretty good sum of Money, which he took with him, resolving to go directly for Germany, accompanied with a very honest, faithful young Man; but being somewhat incommoded on the way, in a place remote from all Habitation, he saw these Caves, and retired into them; but 'twas not long  this solitude to which necessity had at first forced him, began to please him, so that he resolved to spend the rest of his days in it. He found conveniences beyond his Expectation, as certain Steps that lead up to the top of the Rock● where he chose his Lodging in a place that's dry and wholesome, whereas the Air of the lower part of the Cave is moist and choking. As for his provisions the Young Man that's with him, goes from time to time to buy them for him. But we'll speak more largely of him another time; consider 'tis late, and if we intent to dine to day, 'tis time to begin.  
In the mean time the Lackeys took care to spread our Provisions on the Grass, so that we dined after the Turkish Mode: And we should have been much inclined to Mirth and Pleasure, had not the surprising adventure of the Solitary made us serious. 'Tis indeed so rare a thing for Persons of the Reformed Religion to retire from the World, after this manner, that one Example may pass for a Miracle. You wonder at this, said Madam de la Garde, for my part I done't at all. They use us as they formerly did the Primitive Christians; and is it strange if some amongst us imitate those holy Persons, who retired into Deserts, and holes of Rocks? May not the same Calamities inspire Persons with the same Resolutions, how ridiculous soever they may seem to the Men of this World.  
Dinner being ended, Madam de la Garde, sent Monsieur d' Arbaux, and Monsieur de Chables into the Rock, to see if they could meet with the Solitary, with whom she earnestly desired to have another Conference. They soon met him, for he hearing their voice, and even what they said, (the voice easily running from one end of the Rock to the other,) came to them, and had the complaisance to meet us at the entrance of the Cave, notwithstanding the disorder he was in. Madam de la Ga●●●, as soon as as she saw him, sent away the Lackeys, and begun a discourse with him thus.  
'Tis not without Reason, said she, that Truth is said to be found in the Deserts and Caves of the Earth, whilst falsehood too often establisheth her abode in the Palaces of Kings; since we see such as love the Truth, both in Faith, and in Discourse, choose the most savage places to devil in. It may be, replied the Solitary, that Truth would be found in the Palaces of Kings, did not the greatness of its splendour offend them, and disturb their quiet, they would not have its beams so near; nor would they be told, that after all they are but men, composed of the same materials, and as necessarily obnoxious to Death as others are. How much lesle can they endure to be told of their Vices, Debaucheries, Imperfections, Infidelity and Falsehood.  
Do us the Favour, said Madam de la Garde, to give us an Account of the Motives that have obliged you to embrace so strange a kind of Life as that you now lead: That I shall willingly do, answered he. The first was the deplorable Estate of our Churches. I reckon their Estate deplorable, not only because of the Persecutions they suffer from without, but because of their own Infirmities and Failures. I will not (Madam) act the Saint, nor make any Pictures to Holiness; for I accounted myself a great Sinner, yet were I not able to behold the Universal Corruption of Manners amongst us, without being filled with Horror and Amazement: Alas, we have imitated the Children of this World, and in some respects have outdone them too; Pride, Luxury, Dissoluteness, have abounded amongst us, as amongst the Heathen; we have offered Incense to our Revenge, our Animosities, our Covetousness, and our Ambition; yea a great part of our Pastors have sollowed the same Course. Alas! Ladies, alas Gentlemen, (added he with a deep sigh) is not this cause enough for a Man to wish for a place far from so scandalous a Society? yet not making any Schism in the Faith, or Worship that we profess.  
How often have I said with the Prophet Jeremiah, O that I had a Co●tage of Travellers in the Wilderness, there would I abide, and there would I bewail the sins of the Daughter of my People. I would indeed have done so, had not my Conscience told me, that 'twas no time to make a Retreat when we are called to the Combat; no time to hid ourselves when we ought to show ourselves to them that are weak in the Faith, to be to them Examples of Constancy and Perseverance. I stayed therefore in the World, out of a design of serving others; I made use of this time to warn, both Consistories, Pastors, and People, that a dreadful storm was gathering, which would fall upon us  we were ware: But I was accounted a Fanatic, a Visionary, a Dreamer, a false Prophet, an Enthusiast, and what else they pleased; yea, men were so far from believing me, that they laughed at what I said.  
O how willingly would I have spent all my Blood, that I might not have been a true Prophet of the Desolation that's come upon us! But had I been silent, that could not have prevented it. 'Tis not without very good reason that the Holy Scripture calls men sometimes brutish, sometimes mad and Foolish; for although they are told, that the danger is inevitable, that the hand is lifted up to strike the deadly blow, unless they repent, yet they will still persevere in their Iniquities, and add to the measure of their Crimes; they are not content to walk leisurably to their ruin, but run headlong into it; and any one that did but seriously consider their actions, would imagine that they were afraid they should not be miserable soon enough. We have seen our Miseries coming upon us by degrees. We have had time to have prevented them by our Tears and Repentance, and yet we have been so brutish, so besotted, as that we have neither wept nor repent.  
At length those evils that threatened us are come upon us, and have as it were seized us by the Throat when we least expected them. Our Churches are demolished, and our Religious Assemblies interdicted in a thousand places where they were before free. In a word, you know yourselves all that hath befallen us, so that there's no need that I should make such a doleful recapitulation of it. How often have I longed for Death, and envied the condition of those that are at rest in the Lord! How often have I accounted those happy that are gone home before the coming of our Anguishes! or those whom Death surprising in their Cradles, hath prevented from seeing those Afflictions wherewith we are at present continually exercised!  
Was not this enough to make me hate the world, and retire into some Desert where I might shed tears in abundance, without fear of contradiction? For the Cruelty we are at present under, is so great, that our very tears are made Crimes. We are persecuted and dare not say so, nor make use of the term Persecution, or Persecutors. We must look pleasantly in the midst of Torments, and the bate saying that we are under Afflictions, and groan under them, is enough to make us accounted bad Subjects: For my part, having my heart full of Grief, I was forced to leave all commerce with men, and to seek in the thickest Forests and darkest Caves, a place where I might freely complain of our Miseries.  
But that that was the immediate cause of this Voluntary Retreat, was a Journey which I made to Court, about the Affairs of our Churches, and my own. I saw such abominable Corruptions there, as were not exceeded under the Regency of Katherin● de Medici's, who brought the Italians to act on this great Theatre of Europe, who filled the Court with the most horrible Vices that were ever heard of. What vile Discourses did I hear from the highest Nobility of the Kingdom, both at their Tables, and in their Walks, about their horrible and unuatural Debaucheries. Ordinary Vices are at present accounted Virtues, while such Crimes are perpetrated, as have formerly brought Torments of Fire and Brimstone from Heaven upon a People; not to speak of those horrible Blasphemies that are daily heard, such as the Devils themselves could never have invented, and a thousand other Villainies which I shall not name, and would to God I had never heard.  
I was one day thinking upon these things, when a Gentleman came to make this Proposal to me, That if I would abandon the Heresy of Calvin, and submit myself to the true Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman Church, I should not only preserve mine own Estate, but should also be advanced to extraordinary Dignities. He that made me this Proposal, was one of the greatest Debauchees of all the Court: He pressed me much to a Compliance, remonstrating that the advantage was very considerable, and that 'twould be my Prudence to embrace this offer, whilst the Court was in so good an Humour. Though I were a Catholic already (answered I) yet I would turn Protestant, that I might not ●e of a Communion of which you are: What's the meaning of this, (added I) that you, who believe not in God, should exhort me to turn Catholic? I a●●ure you, (said he) that the King will have but ●ne Religion in his Kingdom, and that such as refuse to Conform to his Will, in embracing the Catholic Religion—  
The King, (said I, interrupting him with an heat whereof I was not Master) the King would do better, and act more for the advantage of his State, did he purge it of an infinite number of Debauchees, Blasphemers, Atheists, and such like Trash, than by dealing so severely with so great a number of good Subjects, who are guilty of no other Crime but refusing to go to Mass.  
These words were too sincere for the Age in which we live, and also exposed me to much Danger, against which I had no other defence but flight. O how much safer is it at present for men to reflect upon the Conduct of the Almighty God, than on that of the Kings of the Earth! Every body knew my Accuser to be one of the most Profane, the greatest Blasphemer, Atheist and Debauchee of all the Court: Yet he had never received any check for his disorders, never was in the lest punished for them; but I, a poor Huguenot, could not sooner speak a true and righteous word, but I presently found a Million of Enemies armed against me: On the one hand, all the Libertines and Debauchees of the Court were enraged against me, for presuming to reprove their way of living; these falsely accused me for speaking irreverently of the King and Government: On the other hand, the Society of the Jesuits were resolved to ruin me, making it a point of Honour to do so, as being a most dangerous Heretic, whom 'twas fit to rid the World of, in order to the accomplishing their Designs on others.  
Yet I remained very secure at my own Lodgings, never imagining that I was pursued with so much fury; the terri●lest of all disgraces was just ready to overtake me, when I did not in the lest suspect it; but a Billet▪ that I received from an unknown hand awaked me out of this security, the Contents of it were these:  AS soon as you shall have read this Billet, be gone without delay; so formidable a Party is formed against you, that were you a Prince of the Blood, you must needs fall unde● it: Of all the Countries in the World, none is so dangerous for you as France, and of all the Places in France none can be more fatal to you than Paris. If you are discovered here, I accounted you more miserable than if y●● were cast into the depth of the Sea. Farewell: Make use of these few words. 
This (continued the Solitary) was a terrible Billet; yet having made it my business to prepare my mind for the most cruel Events, I was not much surprised at the greatest Threaten. I prepared myself for my departure with all imaginable Secrecy, taking leave of my most intimate Friends, and returning to my Lodgings Incognito, where I stayed some time, till I could receive a Sum of Money, which I kept against a time of need, and till I had hid some Papers of great Importance; which having done, I resolved to leave France as soon as I could, accompanied only with a young Man, in whose Virtue and Fidelity I entirely confided.  
I don't deny but 'twas some trouble to me to think of retiring amongst Strangers, who though they make Profession of the same Religion with me, yet it may be have not more Virtue or Piety than the Reformed in France: And I know by several relations which I had from several Persons yet alive, their lukewarmness and indifferency with respect to the most pure religious Worship: But what should I do? I must either resolve on Death or perputual Imprisonment if I stayed in France; or else leave it to secure my Life, or at lest my Liberty.  
In a Town which I passed through in my Journey, dwelled a good Man of the Reformed Religion, above fourscore and ten years of Age. I knew him by report, as he also knew me, and therefore thought fit to visit him in my way, and desire his Advice. If I were of your Age (said he) I would do as you do. I would as carefully fly France, as Seamen do the Coasts of Algiers and Tunis: O how happy are those that leave an house that's full of Cracks, and which every blast of wind threatens with ruin. But Monsieur, replied I, France is at present in so flourishing a condition, that it gives Laws to all Europe, its power makes all her Neighbours trembles: But, (answered he) what more evident and certain Tokens can you desire of approaching Destruction, than the Universal Corruption that reigns in it, from the lest to the greatest? Than that insolent Pride, and that cruel persecution which is acted against the Faithful. Assure yourself, my Son, that one of these things hath formerly overturned Empires, that were more illustrious in their beginnings and rise, than France can ever hope to be in the height of its Grandeur. Much more reason hath a State in which all those three things are sound, to believe its ruin to be at the Door.  
These words, said the Solitary, pierced my Heart, especially when the good Old Man added this: You know, said he, that the Holy Scripture tells us, that the Judgements of God begin at his own house. There's no truth more fully confirmed than this is, by innumerable and most Authentic Examples, whereof we have seen some with our own Eyes. God inflicted his Rod on our Churches in the times of our Fathers, which were miserably ravaged and desolated; but when once their Trial was over, God at length avenged himself on their Enemies▪ not only, on the Heads and Authors of their Miseries, but also on all the People, punishing the Children for the Iniquities of their Fa hers. When God had executed his Judgements on his Church in the days of our Ancestors, who were exposed to Massacres and Burn; he turned his hand against our Enemies, and by a just Decree we saw France punished by herself, for the Cruelties she had committed; and there was no considerable Town in which Innocent Blood had been shed, but was exposed to the terrible strokes of Plague, War, and Famine, and those who had most cried out against the Hugonots, were the first that employed their Force and Cruelty against their own Country, and at length God cast these Rods of his Anger into the Fire. IT had been but a small thing if only the Authors of our Misery had suffered, all France was involved in the same punishment, in the same Indignation of God.  
Be confident of this, that the Corruption, the Insolence, and the Persecution of the Clergy of France against our Churches, hath a fixed Period, which when it is once come, the long-suffering of God will be at an end, and he'll not longer bear with the Oppressors of his Saints, the Blasphemies of his Name, and the Contemners of his Glory. As for this term which God hath fixed, which must expire before he'll execute his Justice, none knows it; for there are some Wretches to whom God puts a stop in the beginning of their Career, and there are others whom he gives a longer scope and space, and seems to have forgotten them, but in the end he will found them, so as to tender the Vengeance he executes upon them, glorious.  
But not to amuse myself with Arguments, to prove what I say, I exhort you to remember, that every wise Man, if he carefully consider the matter, must fl●e out of France. Our Kingdom is sicker than we imagine, and the time in which we may think it to be above all fear, may be for aught we know the very moment that God will take to hum●●e it; and if once he lay his Rod on the French, assure ●●ur self, the stroke will not be light, or i●'s duration short. As for you, my Son, you do well to re●ire betimes, and to imitate those Birds, who foreseeing a hard season, prepare themselves against it by changing their Habitations. Go therefore, and the Lord go with you, for my part I am going the way of all the Earth, and I hope that God will be so gracious to me as to take me out of this World, before he executes his worst and last Vengeance upon us.  
When I had (added the Solitary) taken my leave of my Old Man, whose words made so great an Impression on my Spirit, that I could not but think on them day and night, I happened to loose my way for want of minding it, and found myself before the mouth of this Cave, into which a hard and long rain forced me to enter, without any other des gn but that of sheltering myself from the Storm. I found in it an honest Countryman, who was c●me thither out of the same Design. He told me so many curious things concerning the Cave, that I had a great mind to see it, and promised him a large recompense if he would accompany me: My offers engaged him, and he immediately returned into the Village where he lived, (which is but a quar●er of a League hence,) and brought back with him some Torches, together with a Tinderbox, and also a line, which if there were any need we might make use of, as Theseus did of Ariadne's thread.  
With these Provisions we entered the Cave, which we visited on both sides, at length he showed me a way where we saw the print of men's feet, we followed this tract, and by a kind of Private Stairs, which Art assisting Nature had made, we, after many turn, came to the top of the Rock, which we found open, and sufficiently light. To this open place there was a door, which being shut secured it against the injuries of the weather: There were also other lesle holes, which were beaten out to admit the light, I imagined that this had been the Habitation of some Hermit, that was weary of the world as I were, and had fitted this place for his Accommodation. The Countryman confirmed me in this Opinion, and told me, that he had heard his Grandfather say, That a Man who had the Reputation of great Holiness had formerly dwelled there.  
Immediately I had a Fancy, which the World it may be will judge somewhat extravagant. I resolved to try whether I could bear such a kind of Life as the Ancient Hermit's led: I communicated my Design to the Countryman, who in all his Discourses seemed more civil and judicious than such People ordinarily are. I gave him ten Crowns, and conjured him to assist me; besides I promised him a double or triple Reward for all the pains he should take for me, and he ravished with his happiness, promised to do any thing that I should comm●nd him. This Night I lodged at the Village where he dwelled, and told him all that I would have him do for me.  
He presently apprehended my meaning, and being an Industrious Man, returned the next Morning with me to the Cave, where he took measure o● the Door, Windows, and the place for the Bed, and wrought so hard, with one of his Companions, that at the e●d of two days he returned to put ●p the things that he had made, and fixed a Lock ●o my Door. I● a word, he wrought so well, that 〈◊〉 had no reason to complain of the cost: Besides, ●e bought me divers Provisions, and promised to ●eep my Counsel Inviolably, and in this he hath ●een as good as his Word. He constantly comes ●●ice a week to see me, and if at any other time I ●ant any thing, I sand my Servant into the Village, ●o that I am as well furnished with all Conveniencies as I could desire.  
It may possible seem very rude and severe for a man to live as I do, separated from the whole world, ●nd from the Company of Friends: But 'tis no such ●●deed Life as you may imagine; and when a man ●oth once give up his Spirit to Prayer, to the Praises of God, and to Holy Meditations, he'll found such pleasures, as we can never comprehend whilst we ●re entangled in the Affairs of the World. As for ●his Young Ma● who is obstinately resolved never ●o leave me, he suits his Inclinations well enough ●ith mine, nor ●o I contradict him in his Innocent ●iversions. I suffer him to enjoy the Pleasures of ●unting and Walking, as well knowing that when Devotion is not free, 'tis of no value, and doth not ●●serve the name of Devotion.  
I never found the lest inconveniency by this extraordinary change of Life and Lodging, which I attribute to God● particular assistance. I never regretted my past enjoyments, if any thing afflicts ●●e, 'tis the remembrance of the Ancient Prosperity ●f our Churches, and the consideration of their pre●ent misery. One day, as I happened to be thinking ●ery seriously on his, I fell into so profound a sleep, that 〈◊〉 dreamt a Dream, which for its rarity I shall never ●e able to forget, not more than another which I ●ad some days after. I should, did I not fear being redious, relate them to you. You are so rare a Person, replied Madam de la Garde, that yo● very Dreams must have something Mysterious in them.  
This Consideration induced me to recreate m● mind, by painting in Enigmatique Tables, the present State of our Churches and our Enemies, hoping, that I may one day have an opportunity t● put them into such hands as may make them public; and that these Pictures may be of some use 〈◊〉 such as see them. How, said Madam de la Gard● were you a Painter too; Yes Madam, answered he I were formerly, with indifferent good success, though 〈◊〉 kerbed mine Inclinations, judging it fit, that a Man wh● hath more Noble and Important Employments, should only use this as a diversion. I had indeed left the use 〈◊〉 the Pencil for above twenty years, but since I became a Voluntary Hermit, I reassumed this Employment to have a sensible Idea of my Meditations I would desire you to see my Study: but since the way is troublesome, and indeed dangerous, I'll g●●● myself and fetch what I would show you. Here upon he went into his Cave, and in a sho●● time after returned to us, bringing with him sever●● Pictures rolled up together.  
The first that he showed us, was the Prospect 〈◊〉 a plain Country, in which were nothing but Te●ples, very simple, and without E●lls. Some of the●● were standing, others were half ruined. and of other we could hardly discern the place where they had on● stood. Over against those Temples that were y●● standing, we saw several Batteries of Cannons, the Equipage of the Cannoneers was very pleasant, 〈◊〉 some had Mitres like Abbots, others had extra●gant Garbs like Monks, and very many of the had three cornered Caps like Jesuits. But the were rather employed about the Bombs and Mi●●● than about the Artillery. Amongst all those Ban●ries there was one Principal one, upon which written, The Great Battery Royal; the Master-Cano●cers were known to resemble the Father la Chaise, ●●d monsieur the Archbishop of Paris.  
The second Picture represented a Woman, that ●●emed to have been very beautiful, but Affliction had ●tterly defaced a great part of her Beauty; she was of a dark Complexion, and out of her Mouth came his Writing. Look not upon me because I am black, ●●cause the Sun hath looked upon me: Her Garments yoked as though they had once been very rich, ●ut they were now all rent and torn; in her hands ●e held a great Book, whose Title was, THE WORD ●F GOD; several Persons endeavoured to snatch ●is Book from her, and tore it in pieces; but an ●and came out of Heaven, and smote them on he Fingers with a little Rod, forcing them to let to their hold: Above the Head of this Woman ●as written, The Portrait of the Christian Reformed ●●●●ch.  
The third Picture represented a Tempest, so excellently well, that the bore sight of it was enough ●o fill any one with terror, herein supassing most other Pictures; the Winds were drawn with swollen ●aces, blowing with such impetuosity, that the Sea seemed to be nothing but moving Mountains. I observed that these Winds were drawn much after the same manner as they are described by the ●oets, except that some of them had Mitres, Hats, ●uare Caps, and Hoods; I perceived that one of ●●em had a triple Crown, who blew with all imaginable carnestness, but produced not half the effect ●hich another did that had a three-cornered Cap: 〈◊〉 the midst of all this Tempest was a small Vessel, 〈◊〉 which were three or four Persons, she was without Oars, Sails, or Rudder, and round about her was ●ritten thus, Save us, we perish! and in another Writing which came from a certain place of the Hea●as, which was perfectly clear, were these words, Why are ye afraid, O ye of little Faith?  
This third Table (said I) seems more obscure than the two former. This Vessel which you seen replied the Solitary, is another Picture of the Christian reformed Church: This Tempestuous Sea are the People and Nations of the Earth, who are 〈◊〉 the Holy Scripture set forth under the Notion 〈◊〉 abundance of Waters, which move not of themselves, unless agitated by the Winds, which make them roar and pass their bounds; for the People would never so violently rise up against the Church did not the Pope's Cardinals and all the Clergy continually persuade them, that the most meritorious Action they can do, is to rid the World of those whom they call Heretics. As for the Vesse●● itself, 'tis the Church, in which are the true Relievers, who yet are not perfectly freed from the remainders of Unbelief, so that seeing themselves in danger, they cry out, Save us, we perish: But what Jesus Christ said to St. Peter, may be very well applied to them, O thou of little Faith! why art thou afraid? Indeed, did we as firmly trust on Divine Assistance as our Fathers did, we should not more than they want this Assistance.  
The fourth Picture represented a beautiful and great Leopard, who having been a long time kept chained, had at length broke his Chains. We also saw many Hunters, who did all that possibly they could to take him. Most of these Hunters were either clothed in the Habits of Jesuits, or at lest bore some Marks of their Devotion to that Order 〈◊〉 some of them spread their Nets to ensnare him, others compounded Mixtures to stupefy him, and cast him into a sleep, but none durst venture to put the Chain about his Neck, which was in a readiness to this end, for this dangerous Beast had strangled some of the Hunters and Dogs that durst come near him. You'd easily imagine what this Picture signifies, added the Solitary, when you understand that this Leopard is nothing else but ●he Kingdom of England, which the Pope and jesuits Passionately desire to reduce to its form●● Slavery.  
The firth shown us two Fantastical Pictures: the first represented a very beautiful Woman in ●ll respects, which had a Crown on her Head, and Sceptre in her Hand; she wore a Gown of blue ●attin, Embroidered with Flower-de-Luce's of Gold, ●ut 'twas covered with a kind of Cloak of black cloth, which reached down to the ground, having 〈◊〉 little Collar, like that worn by the Jesuits; On 〈◊〉 was this Inscription, France is become Jesuit. ●he other Figure is a Jesuit, clothed in his pro●er Habit, except that instead of the Cloak they ●sually wear, he had a Cloak covered over with Flower-de-Luce's, on which was this Inscription, The equites are become French to make themselves Masters 〈◊〉 France.  
The sixth Figure represented the present Pope, ●●eeping bitterly at the Diminution of his Authority. He had with him some Cardinals, who endeavoured to Comfort him: He was preparing the ●hunder of Excommunication against France, who expected it with the greatest Scorn in the World; which obliged the Pope's Friends to remonstrate to ●m, that 'twould be in vain to have recourse to ●e rigour of his Bulls, in a time when the World ●as not longer afraid of them, which induced the ●od Father to lay them aside till a more favou●ble opportunity. In the same Picture was represented how the Jesuits abandoned the Interest of the Pope, to adhere to that of France, as ●●ing the strongest; nor will they now any longer maintain their old Maxim, That Popes might depose ●●ings, and free their Subjects from their Oath of Allegiance: Not that they have altered their minds, or are become more Orthodox, but because they see the Affairs of the Popes to be in so desperate a Condition, that they can never hope to get any thing by them.  
The seventh Figure represented Justice and Peace flying out of France with the Reformed Religion, which were succeeded by a very dark Fog, out of which came Lightning and Thunder in abundance. We saw also an hand coming out of Heaven, pouring down a mighty Hall, which ruined the hopes of the Labourers, and caused a dreadful Desolation in all the Country: This Figure had this Inscription, Thus shall that Nation be dealt with, that tramples Divine Favours under its Feet.  
Madam de Brosses, the Aunt of Madamoiselle de St. Phale being seized with a light Indisposition, caused a considerable Trouble to all the Company, especially to her Illustrious Niece, and obliged her to defer the Prosecution of her Agreeable Narrative till another time.   

CHAP. VII.  
THe Company being again met and sat, Madamoiselle de St. Phale thus continued her Relation.  
I think, said she, I was the last time Discoursing of the Pictures which the Solitary shown us.  
The eighth Figure represented some Shepherds, who made a league with the Wolves against certain peaceable Sheep, whom the Shepherds deprived of the best Pasture, and would not suffer to drink of the clear Springs of Water, but would oblige them to feed on certain bitter and unwholesome Herbs, and to drink of stinking Water. In another part of the Table we saw the Shepherds, shearing, kill, and devouring the Sheep: We observed certain Sheep that would not hear their Voice, which so enraged the Shepherds, that they broke down their Folds, and abandoned them to the Discretion of the Wolves, who made a cr●el slaughter amongst them. In another part we saw the Wolves, who having no more Sheep, fell upon and devoured the Shepherds themselves. This is in my Judgement, said I, a very mysterious Emblem. I'll explain it to you, replied the Solitary These Pastors are the Romish Bishops, the term Bishop signifying a Pastor; the Sheep in general are their Flocks, whom they deprive of the Food and Water of life, which are only to be found in the Holy Scripture; the unwholesome Herbs and stinking Waters are the Traditions and Dogmas of the Church of Rome; the Sheep that will not hear the Voice of these strange Shepherds, are the Reformed, who look upon them only as Hirelings and Robbers. The Bishops being enraged that these Sheep will not own them, break down the Sheep-fold themselves, and abandon them to the Wolves, which are the Jesuits, who soon reduce them to the extremest misery: But these Wolves finding no more Sheep to devour, fail upon the Bishops themselves and devour them, after having made them suffer a million of Evils, which will sooner or later force them to repent their Cruelty against the Reformed, and their having assisted the Jesuits in ruining them.  
The ninth Picture showed us a great Crucifix, which was presented to a multitude of poor People, who turned away their heads from it, that they might neither adore, nor so much as look upon what they called a subject of Idolatry; but as soon as some Crosses of Gold and Silver stamped upon Money were shown them, they were presently vanquished, and did all that they were desired, all of them except some old People, on whom the Crosses of Gold had no more Influence than those of Iron: upon this Picture was written in great Letters, THE TRUE MIRACLES OF THE CROSS FOR THE CONVERSION OF HERETICS. In another part of the Table we saw the Sieur de Marillas, Intendant and Great Converter, or at lest his Statue, which the Jesuits had erected in some of th●●r houses, he was surrounded with Dragoons, Treasurers and Missionaries, and there was carried before him, as the Cross useth to be before Legates, a Purse at the end of a Staff, and large Patents, which promised such as should be Converts the Purse for this Life, and Paradise for the other; for the performance of which the Intendant himself would become Surety; but neither he nor his words were much regarded. We ●aw also how the Sieur de Marillas suffered as it were by way of Pastime, his Dragoons to torment the poor Country Hagonots, to force them to go to Mass. We saw at a distance the Sieurs Maimb●urg and So●ller, like two Asses in a Quagmire, very bu●●ly employed about the Justification of the Intendants Conduct, or at lest endeavouring to blot out the remembrance of it, but all their time and pains were to no purpose.  
The tenth Figure represented a great Fire kindled in the presence of abundance of People, in which was a famous Book, Entitled, The Critic Gen●●● of the H story of Calvinism. The fire was kindled and maintained by the Jesuits, and this poor Book was cast into it with a great deal of Pomp and Ceremony, all to appease the wrath of an angry old Fellow, which was the Sieur Maimb●urge: But a●● though the Book was burnt, and its ashes thrown into the Air, yet it still appeared with this Inscription, O ye Fools and Distracted, think you to destroy the Truth by burning of Books? At the same time we saw this same Book fall down from Heaven, and was, with several others, carefully gathered up and preserved, at which those that lighted the Fire seemed out of their senses, with rage and Fury.  
The eleventh Figure showed us an Old Man, with a sad and discontented Countenance, sitting in his Study. The Solitary told us that 'twas the famous Arr●●●. Do you see this Old Man, (said he)? he endeavours to make his Conscience truckle to his Interest: He must of necessity resist the Jesuits, and oppose the Hogonots, and the different method he is forced to follow, entangles him cruelly. Besides, he is very far advanced in years, and his Life hangs by a single thread, so that he dreads at once the Indignation of the King, and of God, and would feign escape both, but he finds himself under a necessity of being hated of the one or the other. Indeed it goes hard with him with respect to both, for both he and the whole party of the Jansenists are disgraced, and God cannot be well pleased-with such as are lukewarm Neuters or Timorous. Above his head were written these words, taken out of the second Epistle of St. Peter, and that of St. Judas. This is a Fountain without water, a ●●lo●d driven about with every wind, a Tree without 〈◊〉, whose fruit, if he hath any, is corrupt. In a few moments he shall be cut down, and cast into the Fire, 〈◊〉 blackness of Darkness is eternally reserved for ●im.  
The twelfth Picture represented somewhat very like to what is written in the seventeenth of the Revelations, for we saw a Woman holding a Cup in her hand, encompassed about with the Kings and Princes of the Earth, and vast multitudes of People; she obliged them all to drink of this Cup, which made them quite other Persons than they were before: Some of them seemed to be in an ecstasy, others grew stupid, some grew mad and outrageous, all in general forgot their Duty to God, to their Country, and to themselves, acting a thousand Cruelties against the beloved of God; over her head was written these words of the Revelations, This is the Great Whore, with whom the Kings of the Earth have committed fornication, and all the Inhabitants of the Earth have been drunk with the Wine of her Fornication. God hath put it into the hearts of these Kings to fulfil her Will, and to agreed, and to give their Kingdom to the Beast, till the words of God shall be fulfilled.  
This Table, said the Solitary, deserves your minding more than any other, both because 'tis taken out of the Holy Scripture, and because we see it accomplished in our days; but especially I desire you to consider the force of these words, That some of the Kings of the Earth do the pleasure of the Great Whore, and agreed in the same thing with her, and give their Kingdom to the Beast. I desire you also to examine the present State of most Christian Princes, and you will soon be able to judge whether the Revelation be not accomplished in this Point.  
There were several other Figures, which being not finished he did not show us. I shall not give you a large Account of our whole Conversation, which would have been much longer than it was, had we not seen that the Sun was near setting, which obliged us to take our leave of the Solitary, whom we left with a great deal of regrett, who also made us promise' him to make him another visit. We were so taken with his Discourse, that we promised him not only one, but many. Madam de la Garde pressed him with much importunity to spend some days at her House, where he might be as free as in his Cave; but he constantly replied, That he would never leave his Solitude, till he saw an end put to the Persecution of our Churches.  
At length we parted, and in all our way homeward we discoursed of nothing but the rarity of this Adventure, That going to visit unhabitable Caves, we should there found a Man of Spirit, Worth, Quality and Religion, who had made choice of this dwelling before any other, to enjoy rest and quiet of Conscience. Good God, (said Madam de la Garde) to what a ●ad condition is France reduced at present, that men prefer the Solitude of Deserts and Rocks, before its Towns and Palaces! We have no reason (said I) to wonder at this, since in Deserts, and the Caves of Rocks, we are free from those Enemies that inflict a thousand Torments upon us, and are more cruel than wild Beasts or Highway Robbers. I am of your Mind, (said Madam de la Garde) Highway Robbers are far more merciful and Compassionate than the Gentlemen of the Clergy are to those of the Reformed Religion, whom they persecute with the greatest Fury.  
Whilst we were engaged in these and some other Discourses of the same nature, we were insensibly come to the Castle, without perceiving that 'twas Night: As soon as I was come out of the Coach, there came one to me that I knew belonged to my Brother, and delivered me a Letter from him. I was somewhat surprised at this, and he observed it, and said, Let not (Mademoiselle) my Presence astonish you, for I bring you no News but what is good. I opened the Letter, and found that 'twas only a Letter of Credit, by which my Brother ordered me to hear all that this Man should say. Immediately I took him aside in a lower Chamber, where he satisfied my Curiosity, by giving me an Account of all that happened at our House, after my carrying away, which my Brother had not time to do.  
Seeing you desire it, Mademoiselle, said he, I shall give you as brief a Relation as I can of all that happened. I was with Monsieur de Ponsins my Master when he came to the Castle. He immediately 〈◊〉 enquired for you, but none durst return him 〈…〉; this vexed him terribly: He went himself 〈…〉 you in your Chamber, which he found 〈◊〉 in such a disorder, as it had never been in 〈…〉 there. At length he came into the R●●●l in And where's my Sister, said he, in a rage to 〈◊〉 that were present? tell me presently, or I'll 〈◊〉 you to it. But none returned any Answer, and the Servant Ma●●s fallen a weeping so violently that they could not speak a word. Monsieur your 〈◊〉 it 〈◊〉 not what to make of this silence and 〈…〉 who is a Neighbour of ours, 〈…〉 Man, and one that hath a great 〈…〉, and who was at that time 〈…〉, said ●●●●●oisel●e de S●. Phale) told 〈…〉, Sir. (said he) to dissemble, Ma●● 〈…〉 de St. Phale is carried away by force. 〈…〉 away, said Monsieur de Posins 〈◊〉 an 〈◊〉? The two Rabourses, (said Abelard) the 〈…〉 Nephew, by the Command of Madam your Mother: And hereupon he told him all he k●●w of your Adventure.  
The Auguish which Monsieur your. Brother felt at that time is unexpressible, it obliged him to sit 〈◊〉, nor could he speak a word but this: Alas my Sister, my poor Sister! He remained in a kind of Astonishment for about half an hour, out of which Monsieur Abelard awaked him, by saving, Suffer not your Mind to be overwhelmed with Grief, for what may yet be remedied, 'tis not full four and twenty hours ago that this was done, and they are carrying her into a Convent four days journey hence. I'll go into the Village, and get a dozen of good Troopers that shall accompany you this Evening in pursuit of them. And hereupon be gave him an Account of the way they took, in which he had been instructed by the Old Rabours, who had made him his confident in this matter.  
This Counsel raised Monsieur your Brother from his Astonishment, and made him come to himself. He sent Monsieur Abelard to prepare his Company, in the mean time he went up into his Chamber, and being in a desperate Passion, wrote a most ●itter Letter to Madam your Mother, which he caused me immediately to Copy, by means whereof I have got it by heart, and will, if you please, repeat it to you. I bid him do it (added Madamoiselle de St. Phale) and he presently obeyed me; the contents of the Letter were as followeth.  
Madam.  
THough I have had frequent Experience of the Inequality of your Temper, and your blinded transports, yet I should never have believed that you would have so far forgotten what you own to your 〈◊〉 and your Reputation, as to please a Jesuit who is 〈◊〉 infamous, to 'cause your Daughter to be violently ●avish d from yo●● a Daughter, who by reason of her Virtue is worthy of a better Mother than you are; and by the ravishment of whom you have ●o●●d a way to l●●ish from you your only Son, who had ●ather abandon all than be a Spectator of 〈…〉 Actions. Have you will considered, Madam, what 〈◊〉 will he passed on this? Will not the world 〈◊〉 that you have hurried away your Daughts, and forced your Son out of your sight, only because you feared their presence and penetration: For my part, God forbidden that I should entertain any disadvantageous sentiment of you; but you know, Madam, that every one hath not the Charity of a Son, and that ill Tongues are a●t to make terrible work on the lest occasions. I pray God, Madam, to pity you more than you have done yourself. These are the la● words you will ever hear from your Son, who is going to the Army, to extinguish with his Life, the cruel reflections that gnaw his heart.  
Monsieur de Ponsins having written this Letter in the height of his Passion, when he scarce knew what he did himself, gave it to me, commanding me to deliver it to Madam d' Ombreval, and carefully to observe her Countenance in the reading of it: For there were some private Considerations which made him resolve not to carry me with him. I faithfully discharged my trust, though I had but too just reason to fear being mischieved by it. I went into Madam d' Ombreval s Chamber as soon as my Master had taken Horse, who found Monsieur de Haute Cour at the Castle Gate, having his Heart full of joy in hopes to see you, but had like to have died in the place as soon as he heard of what had befallen you. Monsieur de Ponsins comforted him the best that he could, and told him that he was going to pursue your Ravishers, having a certain knowledge of the way they took: This word somewhat revived him, and caused him to suspend his Grief, to give place to his Fury.  
In the mean time Madam d' Ombreval read her Son's invective with Eyes that sparkled with Rage. Traitor, (said she to me) Hast thou had the Impudence to be the Bearer of what I have read? I believe, Madam, answered I, that I have committed no great fault in obeying my Master, and in delivering you a Letter from him, in which there can be nothing but what is conformable to the respect he hath for you. She looked upon me with a severe Countenance, and answered nothing: I made her a profound reverence and withdrew. In the mean time I knew that she had sent for Monsieur Abelard, who was an understanding Man, and able to give good Advice, and that she had shown the Letter to him. Can you have imagined (said she) that this Traitor the Ponsins would have dealt thus with me? Hath he not offended me more than if he had given me a thousand Stabs at the Heart?  
I confess, Madam, (answered he,) he hath much violated the respect he owed you. But what will not the just Grief of seeing a Sister carried into a Convent by force, utterly against her Inclination, cause a Man to do? Ah Madam, those that advised you to such an Action, little minded what reflections the World would make on it, nor how much your Reputation would suffer by it. I see, said Madam d' Ombreval, that you are one of the Ponsins Favourers. Not, replied he, I am not, God keep me from approving of his Carriage towards you, 'tis very culpable. Yet Madam, I have not such base complaisance, to commend the Violence which hath been acted against your Daughter, nor your following the Advice of such a Person as no one hath a good Opinion of but yourself. What would you have men say of the influence he hath on you, so as to make you become unnatural? I know you'll tell me, that 'tis your Zeal that hath made you act this; but can any Zeal authorise Violence? What censure will the World pass on you, when it hears that Madam d' Ombreval hath caused her Daughter to be hurried into a Convent, obliged her Son to abandon all, and that a Jesuit is become absolute Lord over her Mind, and in her Castle?  
Madam d' Ombreval attentively heard Abelards' Discourse, and seemed affected with his Reasons, not returning one word of Answer, which encouraged him to proceed. You have, Madam, been highly esteemed by all the World, during the Life of Monsieur d' Ombreval. Alas, shall it be said that this Esteem is buried with your Husband; and that you yourself have cast it into the same Grave with his Bones? Have you well considered that remorse and anguish which must necessarily follow what you have done? for I foresee that Madamoiselle de St. Pole seeing herself forced into a Cloister, will in a short time dye for Grief. As for monsieur de Ponsins, he will not sail to found what I'm sure he will go to seek: Thus you'll be at once deprived of two Children, who have all the Accomplishments that you can wish. After their Deaths what will become of Monsieur d Ombrevals and your Estate? without doubt the Jesuits will have it, who have a long time thirsted after this prev. And if the Father Matthew were a Man that would give Glory to God, and confess the Truth, it would soon appear that his sole end in advising you to do what you have done, was to 'cause your Estate to fall into the hands of that Society.  
Though Monsieur Abelard spoke only at random, yet he chanced to hit upon the Truth. Madam d' Ombreval answered him very coldly, If I were not, said she, assured of your Affection to me and my Family, I should think that you delighted to vex me. If what I have said, answered Abelard, hath offended you, I am ready to withdraw, after having begged your Pardon. But Madam, (added he) methinks it seems very hard and uncouth to see you here alone without the Children wherewith God hath blessed you, and whom he hath left you to be your Comfort after the sensible Affliction of your Husband's Death. People will be apt to say that you delight to afflict yourself, making yourself the Instrument of your Childrens Persecution.  
But Abelard, replied Madam your Mother, what would you have had me to have done? My Son had seduced my Daughter, who was become more than half an Huguenot: According to the Maxims of our Church, I believed that being a Huguenot she would be damned, I was desirous to secure her Salvation: And since she would not be reduced by Arguments, (her Brother having so prejudiced her Mind, that that Method could have no effect upon her,) I sent her into a Convent, where I am much deceived if they do not in time surmount her Obstinacy. Madam, said Abelard, I am a good Catholic, and therefore you have no reason to suspect me; but I assure you, if Madamoiselle de St. Phale be forced to return to the Catholic Religion, she will be as liable to Damnation as if she had always lived in the Profession of the pretended Reformed Religion; for I am not so ignorant as not to know, that God requires an hearty, free, and voluntary, and not a forced Service. When he had said thus, he withdrew, to give Madam d' Ombreval opportunity to consider what he had said.  
Madam d' Ombreval was touched by nothing more sensibly than what concerned her Honour, o● which she was always very tender. She now plainly law, that never imagining any hurt, she had been drawn by her Confessor into such Actions, as exposed her to the censure of idle and malicious person's. She could not conceal her Sentiments from Abelard, whom she caused to come into her Chamber the next day, to give her some Advice, I can advice you nothing, said he, but to call home your Children. But how can I do that, said Madam d' Ombreval, my Daughter it may be is at this present entered into a Convent, and my Son, where shall I sand to seek him? Besides, should I found him, I know not whether he would return or not, and how can I suffer him in my fight after so injurious a Letter as he hath written me. Ah Madam, said he, I am sure he'll beg your Pardon with all his Heart, if we were once so happy as to have him here. As for Mademoiselle your Daughter, they'll sand her back as soon as you shall desire it, Writ but one word to the Convent, and they'll not fa●l of contenting you in this matter.  
In this Conjuncture there happened somewhat that had a great Influence on Madam d' Ombrevals embracing more favourable Sentiments, than those she formerly had, which was a long and dangerous Sickness of the Father Matthew, which hindered him from returning to the Castle. On the other hand, Madam your Mother, for fear of giving the World occasion to reflect on her, never so much as sent to inquire how he did. Nor did she manifest all her displeasure against him, for having abused the deference she had for his Advice, by drawing into such Inconveniences as he had done. She went once into your Brother's Chamber, and seeing a Bible on the Table, she opened it, and happened to light on that place where David bewailing his Son Absalon, cried out, O Absalon my Son, my Son Absalon. This passage suited her condition, and made her say, O Ferdinand my Son, my Son Ferdinand. I was at that time with her, and saw her shed tears in abundance.  
At length she turned towards me, and said, Thou knowest Mark where thy Master is. Yes Madam, said I. And wherefore didst thou not go with him? Because (answered I) he left me behind him to take care of such things as he carried not with him. Wouldst thou not do better (added she) in bringing him back? You have, said I, more power over him than I, and you know what 'twas that drove him hence: I spoke these words with some confusion, which she perceiving, asked me why I was troubled: Because (said I) my Master was under such desperate Grief at his departure, that if he finds not an opportunity to end his days, his Melancholy is of itself enough to bring him to his Grave, which if it hap, I shall loose the best of Masters, and you, Madam, the most perfect and accomplished of all Sons.  
Thy Master hath grievously offended me, and I know not whether it be possible to abuse a Mother more than he hath done me, in the Letter which he commanded thee to deliver me. I seemed to be astonished at this. My Innocence (continued she) together with the purity of mine Intentions bear me witness, for which reason I am not so much offended as it may be I should have been, were I not justified by mine own Conscience. I wish (said I) that my Master were here, I am sure he would beg your Pardon with all imaginable humility and sorrow for what he hath done. And I, (said she) would pardon him with all my Heart, since 'tis tenderness for his Sister was the cause of his offence.  
Madam your Mother after she had said these words, left her Chamber, and went into the Garden, where I saw her walk all alone in much pensiveness. 'Twas much otherwise with her now, than when she used to walk there with Monsieur d' Ombreval, and to converse cheerfully with her Children, the remembrance of which filled her heart with such cruel Anguish, that she could not conceal it from Monsieur Abelard, who came to see her. But Madam, said he, if it shall please God to restore you your Children, may they promise' themselves to live securely with you without fear? And shall the Father Matthew not more move you to torment those whom you have born in your Womb; whom you cannot deal illy with, without violating the strictest Laws of Nature? If their Religion differ from yours, how can you help it? Know, (Madam) that in matters of Religion, the more you endeavour to force a Generous Spirit, such as Madamoiselle's your Daughters is, the further is it from yielding to such force. I promise' you (said she) that she shall enjoy all imaginable peace, and if I deal otherwise with her, I give you leave to accounted me the most inhuman of all Mothers.  
I cannot promise' you, said he, that she will return, yet I dare hope it. After some other Discourse, Abelard withdrew. This was the fifth day after my Master left us, to go to your Assistance. This Evening when it was near Night, he came to Ponsins, and went to Abelard's House, who gave him an account of the Affairs of the Castle, and of what he had done, and also of the seasonable sickness of the Father Matthew. Monsieur d' Ombreval also related the History of your Deliverance, and how you were retired hither, where you resolved to abide, till you could take other Measures. Hereupon they consulted together what Course was fit to be taken, and at length 'twas resolved that my Brother should writ a Letter to Mounsieur Abelard, to order me immediately to bring him his Habiliments for War, which he expected two Leagues of.  
Abelard carried this Billet to your Mother, who said to him, let him come hither, tell him that I would speak with him before he takes an eternal Farewell of me, after which he may do what he pleaseth. Ah Madam, (said he) he is but an Hours riding hence, I'll bring him to you this Night. Immediately he returned to his House, where they supped together, and after Supper they went to the Castle; but 'twas very late before they came thither, and Madam your Mother expected them with a great deal of Impatience.  
She had a great mind to show herself somewhat cold and severe; but the affecting manner in which monsieur d' Ombreval threw himself at her Feet, and embraced them, without being able to speak a word, awakened the Voice of Nature in her, in comparison of which all other Voices are weak and impotent. Ah Ferdinand, (said she, raising him up,) I only desired to see you, to hear you condemn yourself with your own mouth. I desire no other Judge but your own Conscience. I might (said he) found somewhat to pled in my justification, but Madam, I had rather make a sincere Confession of my fault. But Ferdinand, (said Madam d' Ombreval) if I 'cause your Sister to return, and leave her in a full and perfect Liberty, will not this satisfy you? for I see that the great love you have for her, causeth you to fail in the respect you own me.  
monsieur d' Ombreval seemed satisfied with this Promise, yet he still remained silent. Ah! (said Madam your Mother) I know Ferdinand what 'tis that you are afraid of; you are afraid lest I should altar my mind, but for this you may set your Heart at rest, and know, that though the Father Matthew were not sick unto Death, yet he hath caused me too many troublesome Nights ever to make use of his Advice again: I know what Venom there is in all his Counsels, and I swear I'll never follow them more; I swear this in truth, and in sicerity of Heart; and what is more, I am resolved to follow no Advice but yours and your Sisters.  
Seeing 'tis thus, replied my Master, I shall freely confess that my Sister is delivered, and I should have brought her with me, could I have expected so favourable an Entertainment. Hereupon my Master gave her an Account of the whole success of your Adventure, at which she seemed extremely pleased, and desired to see you as soon as she could. Immediately she abandoned her Soul to Joy, and would needs have a Collation with her Son before she went to Bed, who satisfied her as to all the demands she made, except those as required a more certain Assurance, that she would continued in this good temper. My Master hath now sent me hither to give you an Account of all that passed, that your mind may be in quiet, lest the uncertain Condition of your Affairs should disturb it.  
Here ended the Relation which my Brother's Servant made, whom I dismissed; after which I went to see Madam de la Garde and her two incomparable Daughters, who rejoiced exceedingly at the happy success of my Affairs, for which we hearty blessed God. I had a great mind to return home to my Mother, but Madam de la Garde advised me not to make too much haste; adding, that I would do well to make my entrance into the Reformed Church before my return. I'll lend you my Castle, (said she) and I have a Minister in whom we may confided, and we will have no other Witnesses to the Action but myself, my two Sons in Law, and their Wives, my Daughters. I thanked her, and said, that I would not engage her in an Affair whose consequences might prove fatal to her; but she would not be put of. Daughter (said she) we are every hour in danger of Death, make use of the opportunity you have to make your Declaration, a time may come when you may exceedingly regret your having let it slip. At length I yielded to her Reasons, and we resolved that the Thursday following should be the day for this Work. As for the place, we chose a Summer-house that was in the Garden. And the Minister being before advised of it, came at the day appointed.  
He was a Man of about fifty Years of Age, of a good Carriage: He desired to Discourse me in private. I gave him an account of what made me desire to enter into the Communion of the Reformed, at which he seemed satisfied, finding that I had been pretty well Instructed. After this we went all into the Garden, which was very large and spacious, the Doors of which we carefully shut, for fear of being ●●●●er surprised or interrupted, and went into the Summer-house, as we had designed. The first thing our Minister did, was to Pray in general for our little Assembly, after which he made a Discourse, short indeed, but very full and affecting, of the necessity of Conversion, and of being sincere, and persevering in it. When he had finished this Discourse, he addressed himself particularly to me, in these Words:  
There's no great need (Mademoiselle) that I should represent these things to you, or be more large in them. Know that the Work we are about is of such great moment, that 'tis inferior to none other in the World. You abandon a Church that is environed with Pomp and Magnificence, and is supported by almost all those that are great and powerful; a Church that hath under it many People, Tongues and Nations, which boasts of Antiquity, and is at present more flourishing than ever: This Church (I say) you abandon, to enter into another, in which you will see nothing but misery, reproach and grief, whose Members are accounted the filth and offscouring of all things, and are but very few, in comparison of those of the Church of Rome: A Church that is charged with Novelty and Innovation, and which is in a word oppressed and desolated at present more than ever hitherto it hath been. I ask you once more before this small and holy Assembly, Have you well considered what you do? Hath no human Passion or worldly Consideration obliged you to forsake the Belief in which you were born and bred, to embrace another?  
This Question, for which I was not prepared, thinking I had fully satisfied the Minister in our private Conversation, somewhat surprised me, yet I took Courage, and rising up, returned this Answer. I call God to witness before you, God (I say) who knows the secrets of my heart, and to whom my most concealed Designs are all open and naked, that I forsake the Church of Rome only because it hath fallen into many fundamental Errors with respect to Faith: And because I am sensible that I cannot coutinue in it without putting my Salvation on a desperate hazard. This is the sole, the only Motive of my Change, nothing of any private grudge or worldly affection prompting me to it. I will also, and I freely consent that you all should rise up as witnesses against me at the day of Judgement, when the most secret imaginations of our hearts shall be discovered, if my Conversion be not sincere, or if any worldly Passion hath moved me to it.  
I need not tell you what I shall loose in the world by abandoning the Roman Religion, nor yet the Miseries I must expect in embracing the Reformed. I have made divers Reflections upon it for a long time, and God hath given me Grace to surmount all the allorements of the world, and the Calamities I have reason to expect in entering into the Communion of Saints. I shall only say, that this Prosperity, and those delights that are in the Church of Rome have disgusted me, and made me fear to remain in it; for I remember the instructions of my Father, That it would be with the Church of Rome in general, as we see 'tis with the wicked in particular, God suffers them to be advanced and to triumph on the Earth, to tender that ruin and fall that will suddenly overtake them, the more dreadful. I am not so ignorant as not to know, that all those delights and this Pomp of the Romish Church, is a mark of its being a false Church, seeing these things leads men voluntarily to Eternal Misery. This caused me to hate the Church of Rome, even before I was sensible of its Errors and Impieties: But now that I plainly see in her all the Marks and Characters of Mystical Babylon, I leave you to judge whether I am not very willing to leave her, to obey this voice that saith, Come out of her my People, lest you are partakers of her plague's: So that though there were no external ●orm of any other Church, as there was 〈◊〉 three Ages ago; yet I should earnestly desire to be separated from her, for fear of being involved in her Condemnation in that terrible day, in which God will pour down his Judgements upon her.  
Much more reason have I to desire to leave her ●n present, when I only as it were leave a tempestuous Sea, to enter into a safe Harbour: And as ●e Pomps and Delights of the Church of Rome made me first to doubt whether she were indeed what she pretended to be, and afterwards to hate and despise her in my heart; so the Afflictions of the Reformed Church, and the Machinations of the Great Ones of the Earth against her, made me at first esteem her, and afterwards love her. This is what made me to seek Instruction, which I wanted, to beg 〈◊〉 of God with tears and cries, who had mercy upon me, and made use of my Father and Brother to draw me out of the bad way, which I knew to be bad, though as yet I knew not the good or true way, which leads to Salvation, which is only found in Jesus Christ, who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, who alone hath delivered us from Eternal Death by his Death, and whom we ought to take as our only Mediator, Intercessor, and Advocate, addressing ourselves to God by and through him in Faith and Truth.  
I made my Declaration to the Minister before I came hither, of all the abuses which I found in the Church of Rome: I now reject them all, and resolve to adhere to the Faith of that Church which is the true Spouse of Christ, particularly to the Faith of the Reformed Churches of France, without adding to or taking from it, or changing it in any particular; and in this Faith I desire to dye, and I trust in the Mercy of God, that having begun a good work in me, he will finish it to his own Glory, and my Salvation. I have for a long time earnestly sighed after what I have now done, and I may say, This is an happy day for me!  
Here I ended my Discourse, to which the Pastor returned this Answer: Mademoiselle, said he, I have heard you with a great deal of Joy, as also have those good Christians that are here present. And how can there choose but be joy on Earth, seeing there's Joy in Heaven when a Sinner reputes, or a Wanderer is reduced into the right way? Being persuaded therefore that your Conversion is sincere and real, In the Name, and by the Authority of our Lord, I declare you a true Member of his Church. He hath chosen you from Eternity to be his, and as such he hath called you Externally by his Word, and more effectually by his Spirit; so that I only publish and make known to men, what God hath done for you.  
You are now entered into a path very thorny, but withal very glorious; you shall suffer all the days of your Life, but at length you shall finish your days in peace and Joy: You must encounter with innumerable Enemies, but the issue of your Combat will be your Glory and Triumph. The God of Mercy, who desires not the Death of a Sinner, but rather that he would repent and live, increase in you all the Gifts of his Holy Spirit, and sustain you with his Power from on high, that having in this World received Authentic Evidences of Eternal Life, he may indeed bestow it upon you in the Heavens.  
Consider seriously, that having entered into this way of Eternal Life, you must not draw back, nor so much as look back, by remembering and regretting your past Grandeur, and Conveniencies: Seeing you abandon all things to follow the Lord Jesus, you cannot, with a good Conscience return to what you have left, without committing an outrage on him, and alienating your heart from the Lord of Glory, who abhors a divided heart, an heart that pretends to adhere to him, and at the same time runs out after the World: Little Children, saith St. John, love not the world, neither the things that are in the world, if any man love the world, the Love of the Father is not in him. O how happy is that Soul, who forsaking all other things, makes the Lord Jesus Christ his supreme happiness, his All! Having said thus, he prayed again for me with much fervour and affection, during which I shed a thousand tears of Joy, the Evidences of an inward joy and satisfaction. Madam de la Garde and her two Daughters wept also, and her Sons-in-law were much affected: This Action was concluded with singing the 85th. Psalms, which gins thus.  

O Lord our God, thou gracious  
Hast been to thy beloved Land;  
Jacobs Captivity thou hast  
Recalled with a mighty hand.   

Thy People freely pardoned  
Thou hast all their Iniquities;  
O God thou all their Trespasses,  
And sins hast covered from thine Eyes.   
This was followed by the Blessing, in which I as a New Comer had a double Portion. I must needs say that the Pastor put up many particular Requests for me; and after having ended all, he came to salute me, as one newly entered into their Communion. Madam de la Garde with her two illustrious Daughters followed him, and embranced me an hundred times; we wept on each other for Joy and love: The Monsieurs d' Arbaux, and the Chables were extremely obliging in their Carriage, which I had assurance was sincere. At length we all went out 〈◊〉 the Summer-house, leaving the Minister alone, wh● had the Generosity to writ me a Certificate, of m● having made an Abjuration of the Roman Errors i● his Presence, declaring that he owned me for 〈◊〉 Member of the Church, and prayed all the Brethrens in Christ to receive me as such. I thanke● him the best that I could, for he exposed himself to extreme Danger, should I hap to loose th●● Certificate, and it should fall into dangerous hands As an acknowledgement of his kindnesses, I woul● have obliged him to have received a Ring of a considerable value, but he would not take it, answering me very pleasantly, That 'twas not the part o● Converts to give presents to their Converters, bu● of Converters to give presents to their Converts. 〈◊〉 answered, That 'twas so indeed in the false Church but in the true Church they have contrary Maxims; yet I could never prevail with him to take any thing of me.  
After we had walked some time, Madam de l● Garde was willing to return into the Castle, where we found in the Hall a stately Collation prepared fo● us. Methinks Madam, (said I) you deal with m● as they did with the Prodigal Son, for whom the● killed the fatted Calf as soon as he came to himself and returned into his Father's House. She smiled and said, You humble yourself too much, this comparison doth not suit you. But I pray you, seeing there is now joy in Heaven, why should there no● be some joy also on Earth?  
We were very cheerful during the Collation which being ended, the Pastor took his leave of us I much regretted his departure, seeing God had chosen him to receive me into his Church, and 〈◊〉 were his Spiritual Child, the Apostle Paul himself calling those his Children whom God had brought into the Church by his Ministry. He promised after a few days to return and see us, and I was much troubled that I had let him go, before he had satisfied me in a scruple which I had, viz. whether in case I did return to my Mother, I ought to confess plainly that I were an Huguenot, or else to pretend that I were still a Roman Catholic. If I should confess the former, I should be in danger of falling into the same Inconveniences I had been delivered from, and it may be greater, which I should very hardly escape. If I should deny it, I should wound my Conscience, and show that I were ashamed of Christ and his Gospel, which would be a kind of denying him before men.  
At length I resolved, that if my Mother would ●●e me, and my Brother should advice me to return to her, and if she should demand an account of my Faith, I would make a plain Confession of it▪ without dissembling any part of it, preparing 〈◊〉 self for the most cruel Events, and choosing ●●●er to suffer in my Body than in my Conscience. I begged God to strengthen me in this re●●lation, and to enable me, notwithstanding my own weakness, to overcome all Crafts, Threaten, all kind of Temptation, and my proper Infirmities. I imparted my thoughts to Madam the ●a Garde, who approved of my design, and exceedingly confirmed me in it.  
About three days after my Brother with monsieur de Haute-Cour came to visit Madam de la Gar●●: This was an addition to my Joy. After the ●●●●t Caresse; and Civilities were over, they declared to them, that I was admitted, received and owned to be a Member of the Reformed Church, ●●d gave them an account of the manner in which this was done. Never was surprise more agreeable. Blessed be God, said my Brother, you have treed me from a great deal of trouble: I ●ay now call you my Sister, not only in Flesh and Blood, but also in Spirit, and in our Lord Jesus Christ; this obliged him to embrace me 〈◊〉 second time, and to give me the Hand or Fellowship. Mounsieur de Haute-Cour durst not so openly declare his Joy at what I had done, yet he protested to me, that nothing ever better pleased him in all his Life.  
At length Madam de la Garde, believing that my Brother and Mounsieur de Haute-Cour were not com● without having something of Moment to impart t● me, left the Chamber in which we were. M● Brother took this opportunity to tell me, that my Mother earnestly desired to see me, and that 〈◊〉 should prepare to return with him. I am ready to do it, said I, but I assure you, that having made my Declaration, I am not in an Humou● to dissemble, but am resolved to declare boldly that I am of the Reformed Religion. At this word my Brother was silent for some time: At length he consented to what I had proposed, assuring m● that my Mother would never trouble me more o● that account, having too sensible remorse for wha● she had already done; adding moreover, that sh● was so extremely troubled for having suffered th● Father Matthew to usurp such a Power over her mind, that she is (said he) fallen sick with it, and 'tis her Sickness that is one of the Reasons that make me press you to return.  
But, Brother, (said I) hath not the injurious Letter which you wrote her, made her sick? Wha● did you mean by Writing such things? I Confess (said he) that I was not myself when 〈◊〉 wrote it; and the trouble of having, as I feared lost you for ever, made me in a manner star● mad: Yet this way of Writing hath not wanted a good effect, for it opened my Mother's Eyes, who immediately saw that her having without imagining any hurt suffered the Father Matthew to usurp such an Authority over her, was capable to do her an injury, seeing to please this Man she had hurried away two Children, of whom she had never any reason to complain; and that so unnatural an Action would never be ascribed to a scruple and tenderness of Conscience, but to something more odious. It may be, unless I had wrote this Letter, she would have been the same that she ever hath been towards you and me, so absolute a dominion had the Father Matthew over her spirit. Moreover I assure you, that the good Woman is not at all displeased with me for what I have done, and I have all the reason in the World to be satisfied with the Caresses she hath made me. I'll tell you more, Monsieur de Haute-Cour being come to see me, she shown him all possible Civilities, called him the Deliverer of her Daughter, and hath given him all the hopes that he could expect for her Consent, being fully convinced as she herself said, that the Union between the houses de Roche Blanch and d' Ombreval, was determined in Heaven, whose Decree 'tis in vain for men to oppose.  
I could not choose but blush at the hearing of such News, especially in the presence of Monsieur de Haute-Cour, who soon perceived the Confusion I was under, and took this opportunity to fall at my feet, and to tell me, that although his Passion had been approved of by my late Father, though it was authorised by my Brother; and though he had also obtained the consent of my Mother, yet he was resolved to own me to none but myself. I had never (said I) any aversion from you, nor am I capable of ever having it: You are an honest man, much esteemed by all, you have much Merit and Worth, nor am I absolutely blind. Moreover, you have for you, the Consent of my Father, of my Mother, and of a Brother whom I am obliged by many reasons to Honour and Love. He loves Mademoiselle your Sister beyond expression; I give you leave to draw what favourable consequences you please out of all these things, and remember that this is the second time that you have forced me to declare the sentiments of my heart, though they were not unknown to you; beware, (said I smiling) you do it not a third time, lest you give me just cause to complain of you.  
Ah Sister, said my Brother laughing, you would make us believe (did we not know you well enough) that you were worse than indeed you are. I could not choose but laugh in my turn, and to break of a Conversation so little serious, I entered upon a Discourse of my return. Monsieur de Haute-Cour could not consent to it, being still afraid on my behalf. But my Brother was for it, declaring that he would take such care, and keep-such a strict watch over all passages, that they should never be able to play me such a trick as they had done. For my part I desired it with all my heart, and told them, that seeing my Mother was hal● vanquished already, the rest of the Victory must needs belong to me.  
Immediately we all three left the Chamber to rejoin Madam de la Garde, to whom we discovered the result of our Consultation: She consented with some difficulty, fearing the same things that Monsieur de Haute-Cour did. But my Brother assured her that she had no reason to fear, seeing Father Matthew was under disgrace, and besides was sick unto Death, which hindered him from regaining the Empire he had once over my Mother's Spirit. We supped this Evening very cheerfully, and sat up till it was near Morning, spending the time in a thousand innocent Diversions, at length each withdrew to his Chamber to take some hours rei●●.  
My Brother risen early enough the next Morning, considering how late it was when he went to Bed. He discoursed some time with my Lover, at length they sent to my Chamber, to inquire whether I was risen, and found that I was ordering my Chambermaid (who was of the Reformed Religion, a very honest Girl, whom Madam de la Garde had given me, and I have kept ever since, who is now in the Ship with me) to pack up some things which I had there in order to our Journey. Methinks, said Monsieur de Haute-Cour, after the usage you have met with at the Castle de Ponsins, you should not be so earnest to return to it. Methinks, Monsieur, answered I, there is nothing more glorious than to return with Honour to a place from whence we have been shamefully driven, when those who have driven us away, are forced by their own remorse to do us justice, and Caress us a thousand ways, to make us forget the injuries we have received at their hands.  
Just as I had spoken these words, came Madam de la Garde into the Chamber, which prevented Monsieur de Haute-Cour from making any reply. Why Daughter, (said she) are you in such haste to be gone from me? at lest spend this day with us. Ah! Madam, (answered I) should I follow the Inclinations of my heart, I should not only spend this day, but my whole Life with you. 'Tis in this House that I have made my entrance into the Church of the Lord, and my open profession of true Christianity: But Madam, I have a Mother to whom I am obliged not only by Blood and Nature, but also by a thousand unexpressible tendernesses: She is sick, she desires to see me, I must they her in all things in which Conscience is not concerned. Well, (said she) I will not oppose your departure, but earnestly I desire to have some private Discourse with you before you go. Madam, said I, I will presently wait on you in your Chamber, to receive your Instructions, which I shall always va●●e as so many Oracles.  
As soon as I had set my Affairs in order, and spoken a word or two to Monsieur de Haute-Cour and my Brother, I went into Madam de la Gard's Chamber, I found her alone, she received me with an embrace, which was followed with many most obliging Expressions. My dear Daughter (said she) I admire the fatality of this Adventure; 'twas but a few days since that I first knew you, and yet I love you as tenderly as I can possibly love my own Daughters, which are my own Flesh and Blood, yet the same Fate that hath drawn out my Affections towards you, snatches you from me now, when I most desire your Presence. We must obey, and submit ourselves to Gods William. All things concur in calling you home to a Mother that loves you, and I will not dissuade you from your Duty, yet I would as a Mother, and as a Member of the same Society with you, give you some Advice, which as Affairs are at present, cannot but be useful to you.  
Consider Daughter, that you are a Member of the true Christian Church, and that this quality of Reformed Christian, obligeth you to renounce all the Pleasures of the World, which ordinarily follow greatness, and seem to be entailed on the Church of Rome. I shall not insist much on this Point, because by what I know of you, you are too wise and Prudent not to make this reflection yourself: Yet there is another Point on which I have spoken to you already, and shall now speak what more God hath put into my mind; 'tis concerning your Constancy, to show you, that having embraced the Truth, you are obliged to persevere in it to the end, with an invincible firmness.  
It hath been observed, and the Observation is confirmed by daily expe●●ence, that when a Person renounce h● the Errors of the Church of Ro●a, to embrace the Purity of Faith, such as the Word of God teacheth us, the Devil and the World seem to be let lose against that Person; God suffers him to be exposed to the sharpest Trials, to discover his Iniquity and Hypocrisy, if he return again into the false Church: Whereas the true Children of God, having their Duty always before their Eyes, never fail in so essential a Point as perseverance is, but continued in the fear of the Lord unto the end. Thus you see that the same fire of Persecution, the same Furnace of Afflictions show the difference that there is between the Gold and the Dross that is found with it, which cannot be so well distinguished when they are both taken out of the Ours together. But as the Fire distinguisheth Gold from the Earth or Dross, so Calamities distinguish the Children of God from Hypocrites, and Sufferings discover what in Prosperity lay concealed.  
Don't imagine (my Daughter) that your Sufferings will only be from the Enemies of the Faith; indeed they'll do the worst they can against you, if you fall into their Hands; and the lest mischief you are to expect from them is the Confiscation of your Goods, so that you'll be forced to be a poor Fugitive and Vagabond. You may, it may be, promise' yourself a comfortable retreat amongst those of our Communion; but this is what is worst of all, and a real cause of Lamentation and Mourning: Alas, you will not found them to be such as you imagine. You may think that professing a Religion, which so plainly Commands Charity, Zeal, Humility, and renouncing the World, their manners will be conformable to their belief; but 'tis nothing so: Don't lie under this mistake, but be persuaded, that the number of those whose Lives are adorned with Christian Virtues, is very small, in comparison of those that are very Pious in their Discourses, and splendid in their Profession, without ever practising what they profess.  
O God What a Scandal is it, to see the greatest part of those that profess the Reformed Religion, leading Lives so unbecoming the Gospel, especially in other Countries where the Rods of Adversity ●●ve not been yet felt: You will found Pride wh●re you expected Humility, Dissoluteness instead of ●●●de●ty, Hardness of Heart instead of Charity, ●●●ness and Indifference instead of Zeal. O what anguish will the sight of these things cause in you? I h●●e known Persons that have bravely born the lo● 〈◊〉 Goods, and have not at all yielded to Threatening, Misery and Imprisonment, whom the sight of the horrible disorder amongst the Reformed throughout the W●●ld, have almost vanquishr.  
Wh●●ever you retire, you will have many Spies 〈…〉, who will watch all your words and Action's w●th greater Care and Malignity than if you ●●te ●●ll a Roman Catholic. Your greatest Enemy's will be the Women, (I must speak this to the shame of my Sex) who seeing you young and handsome, will not be persuaded that a Person of your Age and Quality could abandon all for the quiet of her Conscience. Hereupon they'll invent a thousand idle and ridiculous stories against you, as their envy or jealousy shall prompt them. Others will relate all that they shall hear, adding Malignant Commentaries of their own, either to vex you, or oblige you to discover some discontent. Yea, they'll be apt enough to injure you to your Face, either by dull or bitter Railleries', or else by open affronts; so that that from which you may promise' yourself Joy and Consolation, will be to you the Cause of Grief and Tears.  
There have been Persons of Honour and Merit that have also been obliged to seek security amongst the Reformed of other countries'; but alas! they were much deceived in their Opinion of them, and found that they were only Reform out of Custom, and because they happened to be born such, and that had they, been born Ranters, or Papists, or Jews, they would not have changed their Religion, what faults soever they had seen in it, and on this damnable Principle they hate all those that turn from Error to Truth, as inconstant. Who, ever heard of such a depravation! yet I believe those from whom I had an account of it, who are Persons very sincere and Pious, and who would never have discovered the nakedness of those of their own Communion, had not they done it first themselves, by their own Actions.  
I speak these things that you may not be surprised nor astonished, when you see the Lives of some of the Reformed, so different from their Faith, and that you may not take up an ill Opinion of what they believe from their Practices, by which they are so far from honouring the Father which is in Heaven, that they not only dishonour him themselves, but also by their horrible Examples provoke others to do so too. For my part, seeing the present Fury of our Enemies, and the liberty they take in acting it, I expect some dreadful Calamity, and endeavour to prepare my own and my Daughter's minds for the most surprising and fatalest accidents, knowing that an evil foreseen, and for which Persons are prepared, loseth above half its force.  
I shall conclude my Discourse with sincere Vows for your Welfare and Prosperity. May it please our good. God to increase in you daily the Gifts of his Holy Spirit: Pray to him, my Daughter, call on him in your Prosperity, and you'll found him gracious unto you in your Adversity; if Men afflict you, he'll fill your Soul with unspeakable Joy; if they wound you, he'll bind up your wounds, and apply to them the most healing Balsam; if they deprive you of your perishing richeses here below, he●ll heap on you eternal ones above; this is what I wish with my whole Heart. Moreover, that you may remember me, I beg you to receive this small present, giving me several Books of Devotion very well bound. I intended to have enlarged in my Expressions of thankfulness, but she would not suffer me. I was much pleased with the Present she made me, and carried it myself into my Chamber, to look it up in my Gabinet.  
As soon as these things were over, we went to Dinner, at which we were not so cheerful as we had been last Night at Supper. After Dinner we took our leaves one of another. I shall not give an account of the Tears we all shed: I could never have thought 'twould have been so terrible to me to part from Madam de la Garde and her two illustrious Daughters, who also made me Presents after their Mother's Example. They all went into the Coach to keep me Company; the Messieurs d' Arbaux and the Chables took Horse to accompany my Brother and Lover, who came on Horseback, though they also brought a Coach with them. They road with us about a League and half where fresh Tears were shed by us, and many Civilities passed between our Gentlemen. My Brother and Lover made their Compliments in particular to Madam de la Garde and her two Daughters, because of their extraordinary kindness they had shown me; and after varieties of Expressions denoting thankfulness and affection, our Coaches parted: I was left in mine with none but my Chambermaid, admiring the strange revolution of this World, that I should return voluntarily the same way which I had been but a little before carried by force. As for my Lover and my Brother, they chose to ride on Horseback, for fear of any unhappy accident; they had also with them two Men that were very resolute and well armed.  
I shall not give you an account of what happened this Journey, till I come to our Castle. My Brother caused the Coach to stop some distance from the Gate, because he would not have my Mother know by the noise that we were come. My Brother and Lover alighted of their Horses, and I came out of the Coach; and my Brother having strictly charged all the Family not to give my Mother Notice of our coming, we went up towards her Chamber, and I met her coming out of her Closet, with an extreme pale and languishing Countenance, at which I was much surprised: As soon as I saw her, I fell at her feet, saving, God hath been very gracious to me, in suffering me to embrace your Knees with the satisfaction I have of being assured that you are not longer angry with me. At this surprise my Mother cried out, and was forced to sit down, not having strength to stand up; at length being a little come to herself, she said, Justine, my Daughter! Justine, my Child! Let me say, that God hath been very gracious to me, in restoring me my dear Children, after I had blindly taken such pains to drive them from me: Come, my Daughter, let me embrace you, after which let Death come when it will, I am ready for it.  
I would not stir from her Knees, but she forced me to arise and sit down by her. The Astonishment was so great, that she took no notice of monsieur de Haute-Cour nor my Brother: At length, I believe, (said she to the former) that your Happiness hath been the sole hindrance of my Daughter's Misery, for Heaven would not suffer a Person dear to you, to be carried away, but hath directed you to found her and bring her back. In a word, Heaven hath destined her for you, and men can neither successfully nor honestly oppose its Decrees. You told me a few days since, that you desired nothing in the World more than to have her for your Wife. I now give her to you, and both Command her as a Mother, and beg her as a Friend to consider you as her Husband, seeing Mounsieur de Roche-Blanche, and Madam his Wife, her dead Father, and her Brother, by whom she ought to be directed since her Father's death, have desired this Union.  
Madam, said I, suffer me to enjoy the Consolation of seeing you, without minding any thing else. I believe (answered my Mother smiling) that you are very glad to see me, but one happiness ought not to be an Obstacle to another which is greater; and after all, Daughter, I own you a reparation. I give you to this Gentleman, to whom you have, it may be, given your Heart already, this aught to make you forget the Injury that was done you. And on the other hand I am inde●ted to monsieur de Haute-Cour for having restored me my Daughter, though (it may be) he aimed more at his own satisfaction than at mine.  
I confess I was both confounded and vexed that these things should be spoken in my Lover's presence, and my Mother perceiving my trouble, arose, and after having recommenced her Civilities with monsieur de Haute-Cour, and her Caresses towards my Brother; I desire, said she, to allow my Heart a little-Joy, after its being delivered from such cruel Afflictions. Immediately she sent for the two Rabourses and Abelard, who had the Honour to eat with us; the rest of the day was spent in a great deal of Pleasure, till Supper, during which they made me sit near monsieur de Haute-Cour. You may better imagine, than I can tell, what Discourses passed between us. In the Evening my Mother ordered my Brother to take Horse the next Morning, and invite monsieur and Madam de Roche Blanch, and Madamoi●●● Ga●●●●●●s their illustrious Daughter, to our Ca●●●●dding, that ●n the mean time she would keep Mons●●ur de Haute-Cour with her as a pawn: This Employment my Brother joyfully accepted, and went very early the next Morning towards Roche Blanch.  
I never had enjoyed so much Peace and Pleasure since my Father's Death, as I now did. I was much in my Mother's Favour, who dealt with me more like a Friend than like a Daughter. She loved me very tenderly, and I loved her much after the same manner. I freely enjoyed my Lover's Company without the lest jealousy or hindrance. One thing indeed troubled me, which was the assurance I had that there was somewhat I●● near my Mother's heart which though she endeavoured to conceal from me as much as possible, yet she could not from time to time forbear sighing in my presence. I once resolved to ask her the reason of her so great trouble, of which I feared my change of Religion wa● the cause. She perceived my fear, wherefore sh●● resolved to put me out of doubt: I know, Justin●● said she, that you believe your sentiments about Religion are the cause of my Affliction: Not, not, I a● not sorry to see you an Huguenot, or ready to 〈◊〉 one. What would you say, should I tell you, that am apt sometimes to approve of what you have don● and to envy your Condition?  
So unexpected an expression struck me silent s●●● some moments, but at length I answered thus. Madam, (said I) I have entirely rejected the Rom● Religion, and embraced the Protestant; in whi●● I hope, according to that assruance which God ha●● graciously given me, I shall live and dye: But Madam, give me leave to speak one word out of 〈◊〉 Word of God to you, which I have often he●●● from my Father and Brother; To day ij you will hear his voice, harden not your heart. When they spoke these words to me, I was as you at present are, under doubts and much uncertainty what course to take. They advised me not eto trust to my own understanding, but to beg of God that he would show me what to do. I did so, and God at length determined me to do what I have now done, for which I do, and I hope I shall to all Eternity bless his Holy Name. Besides, my Brother gave me a New Testament, which I read several times, and we had some Discourses together, till at length the Spirit of God finished the work he had begun in me. Take, Madam, the same Course, and be assured, that the reason why your Priests and Confessors forbidden you to read the Holy Scriptures, is, because its exceeding great light is abundantly sufficient to discover all their Errors and Abuses. Indeed (replied my Mother) the words that you have spoken are very wondered: To day if you will hear his voice, harden not your heart. Yes, Madam, (said I) you'll found it thus written in the 94th or 95th Psalm, where David exhorts his People not to resist the Voice and Will of God, if they hear him speaking to their hearts or to their Eyes by his wondered Works. And St. Paul in the third Chapter of his Epistle to the Hebrews, applies this passage to those to whom God had discovered the first sparks of his Truth, either by his Word heard or meditated on, or by holy speculations, for these things are indeed the Voice of God; so that none can harden their Hearts against it, without becoming guilty in his sight.  
If you please, Madam, (added I) I'll fetch you the New Testament which my Brother gave me. Do so; (said she) and if you see Monsieur de Haute-Cour bid him come hither, for I will not conceal our Conversation from him. I went, or rather flew, to discharge the Commission my Mother had given me. I called my Lover, to whom I gave a brief account of the disposition of my Mother's Spirit; I ●egg'd his assistance in persuading her, which he joyfully promised; so that we went both to her. Monsieur, (said my Mother) you cannot but be sensible of the Esteem and Affection that I have for you. I desire that you would sincerely tell me your Mind, without the lest complaisance: My Daughter hath confessed, that she is of the same Religion that you are. For my part, I neither love nor value her the lesle for it; and sometimes I am apt to approve of what she hath done, and believe, that had I been in her circumstances I should have done the same thing. In a word, the farther I look into it, the more abuses I discover in the Roman Religion; but yet I know not what to do, for we ought not to abandon a Belief in which we have been born and bred, unless very weighty Reasons oblige us to it; nor yet can we persevere in a belief whose falsehood we are convinced of, without wounding our Conscience. These Considerations keep my mind in suspense; pray help me to determine what course to take.  
Madam, (replied Monsieur de Haute-Cour,) since 'tis your pleasure that I speak my thoughts freely, I shall not amuse myself by discoursing largely on the Truth and Purity of the Reformed Religion, nor the Errors of that of Rome, for this would be a work of some hours, yea of some days. The Church of Rome errs in many fundamental points, and the Arguments she urgeth in her defence are so weak and captious, that I should never have done, should I give you a particular account of them. I shall therefore turn my Discourse another way, and prove that you have no reason to make any difficulty of leaving the Romish Religion, since those very Persons that press you to persevere in it, are not themselves persuaded of its truth.  
Hath it not been told you a thousand times, that Auricular Confession was absolutely necessary, there being dreadful Anathema●s pronounced against such as conceal any thing from their Confessor? I shall not insist on this, that this kind of Confession is not to be found in Scripture, without offering abundance of Violence to it, and that if the Primitive Church ever admitted it, 'twas never accounted indispensibly necessary, as 'tis now. What need is there, (Madam) that a Priest should know all my Heart, and discover all my weaknesses, fears and scruples, whereby he may do what he will with me, especially drain my Estate to enrich Churches, and Monasteries? This hath occasioned most of those, who have some, sense of the Abuses of Confession, to confess not more than is consistent with their Interest: Especially those whose Confessors are Jesuits, will not if they are wi●e, confess all they know, do, or think, because they may assure themselves, that their secrets will be revealed, and will pass to other Persons besides their Confessor, notwithstanding the great Corporal and Spiritual Punishments pronounced against those that reveal Confessions▪ Remember (Madam) the Questions that your Confessor asked you, and you will found after having examined the Penances and satisfactions that he ordained, that he made use of your Confession only to get somewhat or other from you, or else a more absolute dominion over your Spirit. This therefore is an Article, which the Church of Rome hath published for her own private Interest, I mean worldly Interest: Not to mention the many other mischiefs that are occasioned by it, much like those for which it was formerly prohibited in the Greek Church, by Nectarius Patriarch of Constantinople.  
Again, Purgatory, what is it but an Invention to maintain plenty in the Kitchens of their Clergy, who have also found out the Remedy against it, which are Masses for the Dead, and Pilgrimages? What Man, being persuaded that his Soul must s●sser the most dreadful Torments for many thousand of years, can avoid being terrified at the imagination of it, and refuse to give large donations for the singing of multitudes of Masses, by their means to be saved from it? Who sees not that this is nothing else but a mere human Invention? for Purgatory was invented to cause she Mass to be prized, and the Mass to furnish the Kitchen; whence it follows, that the Roman Religion is partly invented, to furnish the Clergy with means to live in pomp and deliciousness. This hath occasioned many Roman Catholics to laugh at Purgatory, and contemn the Mass, adhering only externally to the Roman Religion for their advantage, but indeed are of no Religion at all, because they judge that all Religions are like the Roman, invented only to awe the People, and keep them in due bounds, as more effectual to this End, than Arms and Citadels.  
As for the Mass, did we but know the multitude of Priests that laugh at it in their Hearts, it may be the hundredth part of all the Priests in the World would hardly be found good Catholics. Did they believe that Christ was really present, and that they could bring him down from Heaven to eat him, they would behave themselves far otherwise in the celebration of the Mass than now they do. Not one of them but would tremble, knowing that he held in his hands Christ the Son of God, God and Man, the Monarch of Angels, he that shall judge him at the last day, and could punish him immediately for his offences against him. They would neither be what they are, nor do what they do, if they were persuaded that they held the Saviour of the World in their hands, who is jealous of his own Glory. In a word, (added Madamoiselle de St. Phale) Monsieur de Haute-Cour said the same things for substance that Monsieur de B. V said the other day against the Father Maimbourge, who undertook to defend the Prohibition the King had made, That no Catholic should turn Protestant; and that such as had formerly been Protestants, and had turned Catholics, should not return to their first profession, of which Prohibition or Declaration Monsieur de B. V shown the horrible Injustice and Abuse.  
My Mother harkened very attentively to what Monsieur de Haute-Cour said. Indeed he made his Reflections in so curious and sweet a manner, and with so much strength of Judgement, that she heard him without interrupting him at all. We had every day Discourses of this Nature, till at length I perceived my Mother was more than half conquered, when I saw all the Images that were in her Chamber removed and laid up in a Garret, instead whereof she ordered my Father's Bible with Liodates and Desmarets' Annotations to be brought her, in which I very often read to her. Monsieur de Haute-Cour expounded several passages, and shown her what was believed and practised in the Church of Rome contrary to the Scripture.  
On a certain day as we were all together, she took up my New Testament, and read the words which my Brother had wrote in the beginning: Behold I stand at the door at knock, if any one hear my voice and open to me, I will come in unto him, and sup with him, and he with me. Do you know, Madam, said Monsieur de Haute-Cour, what Christ means, when he saith that he stands at the Door and knocks? He doth this when he toucheth an Heart, as he hath done yours, when he makes it know by frequent admonitions, that is must come to him. Hear therefore his Voice, and open the Door of your Heart to him, conforming yourself to his Will, and trusting in his Holy Promises; if you let Christ in unto you, he will sup with you, and you with him; that is, he will have a perfect Communion with your Spirit, and will give you an earnest of his Glory.  
Your Arguments (replied my Mother) are indeed very strong: But cannot the Catholics turn them to their advantage? and cannot the Priests interpret them in favour of their Church as well as you of yours? They may indeed do it, (said he) but against Reason. For Christ invites us to open to him; 'tis he alone that will come in to us, because he would have as full a Communion with us, as the Head can have with its Members. 'Tis to him alone therefore that we ought to open the door of our hearts, acknowledging him to be our only Saviour and Mediator. We must not open it to He-Saints, or She-Saints: Not, not to the Virgin Mary herself, who, though she bore the Lord Jesus Christ in her Womb, yet hath not the Power to save us. Let us therefore open these doors to Jesus Christ alone. Let us set them wide open, and invite him to devil with us; let us have an holy confidence in his promises, and we shall be eternally united to him. But let us shut the doors of our hearts against all other things; that is, let us put no Confidence in any other merit but his. 'Tis evident, that this was our Saviour's Design: And 'tis this that the Reformed Church teacheth, who exhorts all Persons to hear the Voice of Christ, and give him entrance, and none other. Whereas in the Church of Rome we are called upon to open the doors of our Hearts to Saints of both Sex's, especially to the Blessed Virgin. Hence it follows, that to hear the Voice of Christ, and open the doors of our hearts to him, we must adhere to that Church which acknowledgeth his Merit to be alone necessary and efficacious for the Salvation of Souls; and if our Church be not this Church, I am out o● hopes of ever finding it.  
At this very moment my Curiosity grew to● strong for me, and made me ask my Mother t● what I might impute this great alteration, that she being but a little before so zealous a Catholic, was no● become half a Huguenot? God (replied she) doth won●derfully work what pleaseth him, and often suffers us t● take some false steps, and to be in danger of falling and the● presently bestows upon us sense and spirit of ●●●●ning and causeth us to withdraw ou● foot from the evil way in which we were going Above all, Daughter, that that hath most disabused me, is, that the Father Matthew, in whom I entirely confided, hath discovered himself all at once 'Twas he that exhorted me to sand away my Daughter, and by my severity towards my Son, force him to leave me too; nor had he the Patience to s●a● till my Son was gone, before he solicited me to bestow my Estate on the Society. 'Twas at this ver● instant that your Brother wrote me a most b●●e and injurious Letter, which enraged me beyond expression: Two days after I examined this Letter in cool Blood, and found that he was far mor● excusable than I imagined, and that I had give● him but too just a Provocation. You already know without doubt, the issue of that business, so that need not repeat it to you.  
Thus I lost the good Opinion I had of my Confessor, and called to mind many other particulars which made but too plain a discovery of his Disposition. The first thing that I desired to do, was to call hom● my Children, and afterwards to make use of no other Advice but theirs, seeing God had been so gracious to me as to bestow on me such as were both wi●● and Virtuous. About this time I was obliged to g●●● into your late Father's Chamber, to seek some Papers which I needed. I could not forbear reading in his Books, I found many of controversy, amongst others I saw a little Manuscript, which as far as I could judge by the hand and Style, was of his own Writing and Composure a little before his Death. The Title of this little Book was, The Marks of the 〈◊〉 Church lately verified in our days.  
I may truly say, that the reading of this Piece perfectly changed me, for it disabused me in many particulars. First of all, it quoted expressly those passages, in which it was affirmed, that the Church must be exposed to a thousand sufferings, and there were many curious reasonings on this subject. In the second place he confirmed this Truth, by all the Miseries that had befallen the Ancient Church. He passed on in the third place, to those that the Protestants had endured, by Wars, Massacres, and Torments. In the fourth place, he proved that the Reformed Church was the true Church, which the ●alse Church endeavoured to oppress; and that the same things would befall her, that befell the Ancient Church, and which Jesus Christ had foretold. And in the last place, he undeniably proved that the Church of Rome which made use of Frauds, Violences, Money, and all other ways to promote her Interest, could not be the true Church, because she follows the same Methods that the Devil takes to establish Lies amongst Men: 'Twas on ●●is last Article that he most insisted. The Con●●sion of this Book was, An Exhortation to such as were separated from a Church that was forced to declare she had an ill Opinion of herself, never to return into it, unless they would voluntarily become the Authors of their own ruin: And to such as were still subject to such a-Church, not to persist in their subjection, but to open their Eyes, since the Church of Rome herself discovers her own weaknesses.  
I was much affected with this Manuscript, so tha● I was resolved, if God gave me opportunity, to b● better informed of the means of Salvation than 〈◊〉 than was. About this time your Brother returned and made his peace with me. I laid open the stat● of my Soul to him, and I leave you to judge whe●ther he took not all imaginable pains to perswad● me, which yet he could not fully d●●●, because 〈◊〉 could not tell how to think of abandoning a Religion in which I was born and bred.  
After she had spoken what she thought sit, Monsieur de Haute-Cour returned her this Answer, Madam, said he, I am so far from blaming, that I highly approve of your serious considering what you are about to do, before you enter into the tru● Church; but remember, that you must not spen● your whole Life in these uncertainties. For, Madam, God hates a divided heart, and protestet● that he cannot endure those that are lukewarm: Th●● is what he saith to the Angel of the Church of La●dicea: I know thy works, that thou art neither co●nor hot, I would thou wert either cold or hot; but because thou art neither cold nor hot, but lukewarm, I wi●● spew thee out of my mouth. We ought not only t●●● interpret this lukewarmness wi●h respect to Devotion, but also with respect to Faith; for as God rejects such as are lukewarm with respect to Piety as well as such as are stark cold; so he also reject those that are unresolved with respect to true Faith as well as those that are plunged in Error. Giv● me leave, Madam, to tell you, that the present condition of your Soul cannot please God, fo● in the Estate you are now in, it is neither cold no● hot, but lukewarm, and this is a terrible word. 〈◊〉 will spew thee out of my mouth; for 'tis a Decree o● Rejection. God spoke thus to the Israelites, Ho●●● ●●●g, said he, will you halt between two Opinions? if ●aal be God, serve him, but if the Lord be God, serve ●im? In the Estate in which you, Madam, now ●re, you are neither a Catholic, nor of the Reformed Religion, and consequently cannot be saved either in the Catholic Religion, or in ours. But, Madam, shall I give you good Advice, after having showed you your Danger? Address yourself to God ●n ardent Prayers, 'tis he that must determine you, 'tis he that will overcome all your doubts and scruples, and sweetly and efficaciously draw you to himself; submit yourself cheerfully unto him, for his Yoke is easy, and his Burden is light. I was extremely pleased with Monsieur de Haute-Cours Discourse, for it much affected my Mother, who declared, that ●he would follow his Advice: We spent some days ●n these Discourses, till Monsieur and Madam de Roche Blanch, Madamoiselle de Garisolles and my Brother, arrived at our Castle. My Mother, who ●ad lost her Husband since she saw them last, received them with much Civility, but also with some ●●ars: and had they not left her to come to me, they would have wept too. I shall not give an account of all the Caresses I received. At length I ●ad the liberty of saluting Mademoiselle de Garisolles, for whom my Mother hath expressed a great deal of tenderness. I know not how long we should have continued in our embraces, had they not separated us.  
The ●●st serious Discourse Monsieur and Madam de Roche Blanch had with my Mother, was about our Marriages, which we presently concluded, and Articles drawn up and signed. They caused us to be called to them, to tell us this News, at which we were not much troubled, but made Presents one to another. This passed without much Mystery ●nd Ceremony, because all the Parties were agreed, ●nd 'twas resolved to conceal our Marriages, till we had set our Affairs in order: Monsieur de Roche Blanch, and Monsieur de Haute-Cour, resolved to act always in concert with my Mother and Brother. This Evening we were as cheerful as possibly we could, in an House of Mourning, in which a double Marriage had been concluded on, to the satisfaction of all concerned.  
The next Morning, my Mother discovered the Dispositions of her Mind before us all, at which neither Monsieur nor Madam de Roche Blanch, nor Madamoiselle de Garisolles were surprised, because my Brother had told them of it before. We all prepared ourselves with several Reasons to persuade her, but she did not give us opportunity to mention them. I am, said she, fully resolved and determined, I will dye in the Reformed Religion. The Happy, Peaceful, and Pious Death of my Husband, makes me desire to dye like him. Moreover, the Discourse of Monsieur de Haute-Cour, which I have seriously weighed and considered, hath overcome all my scruples. My Daughter hath done that already which I should have done before her, did God restrain his Providence to the Order of Nature: But I found, that being more obstinate than she, he was pleased to 'cause her Conversion to precede, that she might be an instrument in mine. You know my resolution, I beg you to advice me in what manner to make my Abjuration, and my open entry into the true Church.  
The Opinions were different, but at length they approved of mine. I told them that in fifteen days there would be the Lords Supper at Madam de la Guards Castle, where would be the Minister to whom I had made my Abjuration, Incognito, by reason of the unjust rigour that's exercised against those of the Religion: That my Mother and I would go thither under pretence of thanking Madam de la Garde for her Civility towards me, but indeed that my Mother might do what I had done, ad●●ing, That this Lady was so truly generous and de●out, that she would readily accept of this Proposition; and that afterwards we might communicate together, which I had not yet done, but was extremely desirous to do; besides, that all this might ●e done with the greatest privacy in the World. ●very one approved of what I said, so that we ●●ought we had done business enough for this day.  
The third day was also spent in Conversations. Monsieur and Madam de Roche Blanch took me ●●om Monsieur de Haute-Cour, to relate the Story ●f my carrying away; which having done, Monsieur de Roche Blanch, who is an ancient Gentleman, 〈◊〉 a very good Humour, said, When they once come 〈◊〉 take Romantic Heroines from amongst the Cal●●i●●●, you, my Daughter may promise' yourself large part, for a few days of your Life contain ●●ny curious passages, and show that Heroic Quarries do not wholly own themselves to other men's ●●ginations and Fancies. But Monsieur, (answer●● I smiling) what would Men say, should they ●●ow that the Heroine in the Romance hath been ●●llied by you? This is so contrary to all Rules, ●●at should an Author advance any such thing, he ●●●ld ●e unmercifully dealt with by the Critics.  
I believe, said Madam de Roche Blanch, should 〈◊〉 l●t you alone, you would writ a Comical Romance, that should exceed that of Monsieur S●ar●●●, but we'll found you some other emloyment. hereupon they had a very pleasant Conversati●● so that I judge d myself happy in having a Father and Mother-in-law of so good a Humour, for accounted them such already. 'Twas impossible 〈◊〉 us to mind ●●y serious business this day. As 〈◊〉 my Mother, she had a very tender Conversati●● with Madam de Garisolles, and her Affections ●ere so set upon ●●r, that she seemed to have forgotten which of us she had brought into the world. I was so far from being jealous at this kindness, that I rejoiced at it with all my heart: Besides, Monsieur and Madam de Roche Blanch had such sentiments for me, that I had no reason to be dissatisfied.  
This Evening at Supper, Madam de Roche Blanch earnestly invited my Mother to go with her to her house. My Mother excused herself for a while, but seeing Madam de Roche Blanch would take no denial, she at last consented. 'Twas therefore resolved that Monsieur and Madam de Roche Blanch, my Mother, Madamoiselle de Garisolles, and I, should take this Journey, and that Monsieur de Haute-Cour and my Brother should tarry at Ombreval, to give order concerning some Affairs there; though 'twas somewhat cruel to be separated from my Lover; yet I diverted myself as well as I could all the Road. I found the Castle of Roche Blanch, the Gardens, and all other things there in a better Estate than I could have imagined: We abode in this delicate place four or five days, during which we were admirably treated, and took many pleasant and diverting Walks. At length we were forced to separate, because the time in which we were to be at Madam de la Guards Castle drew near; my Mother and I took our leaves with many tears which were presages of the end of our mirth, and that we should never all meet again, which indeed we never did. Monsieur de Roche Blanch ordered four Troopers to guard us. My Lover and my Brother road to meet us, and after having saluted us, came into the Coach to us, and we all arrived at Ombreval almost as soon as it was Night.  
The four Troopers abode with us three or four days, for we resolved to make use of them to guard us to Madam de la Guards, where we came the day before they designed to receive the ●ord'● Supper. Madam de la Garde was exceeding glad to see me. My Mother and she knew each other, having seen each other at Paris, when they were Virgins, but being of a different Religion and Province, they had no great Acquaintance; besides, they did not know each other by the Names of Madam de la Garde, and Madam d' Ombreval. Our Joy at this meeting was so great, that I wonder we died not of it, as 'tis said some have done; especially that of Madam de la Garde was much increased, when she understood by me that my Mother was come hither to abjure the Romish Religion.  
That the Domestics might not suspect their Design, they had pitched on a weekday rather than the Lords Day, to celebrated the Supper, besides the Garden was an admirable place for such work. The same Minister in whose Presence I had made my Declaration, came the Evening before, and was very ready to do what we now desired of him, as he had been before with respect to me. The same Evening he had a long Discourse with my Mother, with which he was well satisfied; so that the next morning my Mother was Received, to the common joy of us all, and with the same formalities, and before the same Witnesses that I were, but she would not receive any attestation from the Minister. After which the Minister made a short, but good and Learned Sermon, with which I was much edified; as also was my Mother, who soon perceived a great deal of difference between it and the empty trash that's usually vented by the Preachers of the Church of Rome. Neither she nor I had ever heard such a Sermon before, so that we received the Word of God as hungry Souls. Afterwards we communicated with a thousand times more Devotion and Piety than ever we had at Mass, so necessary is the Knowledge of the Truth to make a good Communicant: The singing of Psalms, and Prayers, in a Tongue that we understood, much affected us, we not having been used to hear such things; especially my Mother was ravished at the Song of Simeon, which is ordinarily sung at the end of the Communion, in which she found words that wonderfully suited her Condition.  
As soon as all was over: Alas, said my Mother to Madam de la Garde, how singular a Consolation have I been all my Life deprived of, in being kept from the Knowledge of the true Religion! O how criminal are those that would destroy so devout, so spiritual, so edifying a Worship! After the unexpressible satisfaction which I have received, I may truly apply to myself, what we but now sung, O Lord, now lettest thou thy Servant departed in peace, for mine Eyes have seen thy Salvation. Let Death come when it will, I expect it with Joy. And I hope that God will not suffer me to languish long in this World, seeing I desire the full enjoyment of those Blessings, whereof he hath given me an Earnest at present. Madam, (answered Madam de la Guard▪) we ought to say as our Lord did before his Passion, Father, not my Will, but thy Will be done.  
We abode all this day with Madam de la Garde, and the next Morning took our leaves of her, though much against the Consent of this obliging Lady, whom my Mother thanked as well as she could. If I wept formerly when I parted from her, I now wept more, foreseeing the miseries that were like to befall me. My Mother would not suffer them to accompany us. During all our Journey we discoursed of the Excellency of the Worship of the Reformed, above that of the Papists, in stirring up true Piety in the Soul. For my part, (said my mother, the more I examine things, the more I admire the Conduct of Divine Providence. You know, (Justine,) how furious I was in matters of Religion. I remember the time in which had any one assured me that you would have been a Protestant, I believe I should have strangled you in your Cradle, and yet God made choice of you to be an Instrument of my Conversion. Madam, (answered I) he who converted Persecutors into Apostles and Martyrs, could easily make you, who were once fixed in the Belief of the Roman Church, a member of his own Church. We often see miracles of this Nature, which God works to show the wondered Efficacy of his Spirit upon the most obstinate Hearts.  
These and the like Discourses we had on the Road, till we came to our Castle, where we sent back the Troopers that guarded us, having satisfied them be●●nd their hopes. M●●●● de Blesses, who was my Father's Sister by a second Bed, as I told you before, and who had been married in Po●e●ania, was come into France to take possession of an Estate that wa● fallen to her by the Death of a Sister, and was so kind as to afford us the Consolation of seeing her. She was ravished with Joy, as soon as she heard of my Mother's Conversion. There were also many Caresses that passed between her and Monsieur de Haute-Cour, my Brother and myself, which I shall not now relate.  
In the midst of all our Joys my mother fell sick, and her Distemper grew so violently upon her, that in two days we began to be afraid of her; and what was at first but a doubtful fear, was shortly after converted into a cruel certainty. Notwithstanding the Violence of the Distemper, my Mother's Understanding, Judgement, and Speech never failed her. The very first moment that she took her Bed, she was persuaded she should never rise more; for which reason she courageously prepared herself for D●ath. Dispense with me, (said Mademoiselle de S●. Phale the tears running down her cheeks,) from relating all the circumstances of her Death, the very remembrance of which pierceth my very heart. I shall only tell you that she died a true Reformed Christian, and that she hearty blessed God that he was pleased to discover his Truth to her, and to take her ou● of the World, not suffering her to see those Calamities with which his Church was threatened, and in which she might have had a large ●●●re. She earnestly exhorted me to Piety and Perseverance 〈◊〉 the true Religion: She called for her ●ewe●s, which were of great value, and gave Monsieur de Haute-Cour, and m● Brother, each of them a very ●ich Ring: Afterwards she divided her Jewe●s into two parts▪ giving me the one, and committing the other to my Brother for Madamoiselle de Ga●i●oi●●●s, for whom she had designed them.  
Having made this division, she disposed of the rest of her Estate, making my Brother her Heir, on such terms as neither I nor my Lover had reason to be dissatisfied. After which she would think o● nothing out the Concerns of another World: And Monsieur Haute-Cour, my Brother, and I were always employed in reading some Chapters of the Holy Scriptures, or some of the Consolations of the Faithful against the Fear of Death. But seeing us very apt to fall into tears from time to time, My Children, (said she) I have no need of your tears, but of your Constancy. My Brother was not more able to refrain from Tears than I, nor Monsieur de Haute-Cour than either of us, though we used our utmost endeavours to stop them. Some short time after my Mother died in our Arms, her last words being that Passage which she had often in her Mouth, Lord, now lettest thou thy Servant departed in Peace, for my Eyes have seen thy Salvation.  
'Tis impossible for me to give you a true Account of the Condition in which we than were. Alas, how often did I envy my Mother! I need not take much pains to persuade you that I had reason to be much afflicted. 'Twas well for us that Madam de Brosses was with us, to take some Care about the business of the Family, which was now in a terrible Desolation; for as for Monsieur de Haute-Cour, his time was taken up in Comforting me, who had like to have followed my Mother into the Grave, so that he was incapable of minding any other business; besides, he had a real Affection for my Mother, as she had also for him. As for my Brother, whom my Mother had loved so tenderly, he was so affected with this stroke, that for several days he could not rest, nor would he so much as eat, but when forced to it.  
Madam de Roche-Blanche, and Madamoiselle de Garissolles came very opportunely to awaken him out of this Lethargy: Their coming caused us all to weep afresh. We buried my Mother without any Ceremony, near my Father, as she had ordered, and we did what discovered not only to all that were in the Castle, but also to all the Village, that my Mother and I were of the Reformed Religion; which was, that we sent for no Priest when my Mother lay on her Deathbed, nor buried her in Catholic and Holy Ground, as they are pleased to term it. These things made a great noise in the Country, and stirred up many against us, but I could never fully learn what Mischief they had designed to do us.  
Madam de Roche-Blanche had scarce been with us two days, before she received a Letter from her Husband, in which he gave her an Account that there was a Design formed to carry me into a Convent by force, and that it behoved me to be upon my Guard. The day following this Advice was confirmed, and 'twas said moreover, that Mademoiselle Garissoles was to be carried away with me, and that we were to be shut up in two different Convents. This News terribly astonished us, and we were forced to leave of weeping, to provide for our security.  
We daily received very troublesome Tidings from divers places, but the worst of all was, that a certain Person was coming from the King to demand me, and take me from my Brother and Lover, and that besides this, he was to trouble my Brother for his Estate. Madam de Bresses offered to carry us out of the Kingdom into Pomerania, where we might be safe; this Proposition was accepted with respect to me, as for Madamoiselle de Garissolles it was resolved that she should return home, and that 'twas not likely they would come to snatch her out of the Arms of her Father and Mother. We had no time to loose: I may truly say, that my Eyes are inexhaustible Fountains of Tears, for I shed abundance when I parted from Madam de Roche Blanch, my Lover, and Madamoiselle de Garissolles. Mounsieur de Haute-Cour would willingly have accompanied me, but I forbade him by all the Authority I had over him, for I feared lest by doing thus he might bring much trouble on his Head. I would not have so much as my Brother go with me, for fear jest it should be said he had conveyed me away.  
Thus I was forced to leave those that were most dear to me, and my Miseries were so far from having an end, that they daily seem'● to increase; yet I got out of France well enough, not being discovered by any, having taken my Chambermaid's Habit, and given her mine. All my Farthels were also by the Artifice of Madam the Brosses safely conveyed, and had I not been taken sick by the way, I believe we should have been in Pomerania before now. At length we came to Amsterdam, where I found a Servant of my Brothers, with Letters for my Aunt and Me, both from my Lover and Brother.  
In these Letters I had an Account of what is too long to relate, for 'twould furnish matter for another History. I shall only tell you, that amongst much sad News, I learned that my Brother, my Lover, and Madamoiselle de Garissolles were come out of France towards Pomerania, and that I should in a short time see them, and that 'twas the Will of Mounsieur and Madam de Roche Blanch that our Marriages should be celebrated as soon as we should meet; so that I hope to found at Hamburgh those three Persons whom Love, Esteem, and Nature, oblige me to Honour and Cherish.  
Thus, said Madamoiselle de St. Phale, you have heard my History, which I may justly call Sad and Tragical; for, for the few Moment's of Joy which I have had, I have felt a thousand Dolours, and shed tears without Numbe●. In this very moment that I now speak to you, my Heart is divided between Hope and Fear, about the News that I shall hear at Hamburgh, so that you would pity me, could you but be sensible of it.  
As soon as she had ended, every one of the Company gave her their thanks, and declared the satisfaction they had received in the relation of these Adventures, which furnished matter for a Conversation, concerning the divers Accidents we are in this Life exposed to. The two Hamburgh Ladies took occasion to Compliment Madamoiselle de St. Phale afresh, and to offer her their House; their Father in a very obliging manner did the same thing. The Danish Baron prayed Madamoiselle de St. Phale that since he was obliged to lay aside all the Hopes he might have conceived, she would allow him at lest a part in her Friendship, to which she answered like one very well bred, and that was not unacquainted with the World.  
Thus passed this day, and the Company broke up, each retiring to his Cabin, in hopes the next morning to see Hamburgh. 'Twas about Nine a Clock in the Morning before we discovered this famous City, and about half an hour after Ten we entered the Port, where we landed; and whilst we were giving Order for the Carriage of our Farthels, a Coach stopped near the place where we were; at first we took no great Notice of them that were in it, nor they of us, but the action of a Lackey who came and threw himself at Mademoiselle de St. Phale's Feet much surprised us: Ah Joli-Bois, cried she, Where's thy Master? He is, Mademoiselle, (said he) in yonder Coach, to inquire at the Port whether you are come: Immediately he left us to go to his Master, which was indeed Monsieur d' Ombreval, who came out of the Coach with Monsieur de Haute-Cour, and Madamoiselle de Garissolles; I never saw two love●●r Gentlemen in my life, nor so beautiful a V●rgin, except Madamoiselle de St. Phale. The first that came up to us was Mounsieur de Haute-Cour, who being impatient to see the Object of his Vows, ran toward Madamoiselle de St. Phale, while Mounsieur d' Ombreval saluted Madam de Br●sses. These Gentlemen highly Complemented us all for her sake and Madamoiselle de St. Phale's. I should never have done, should I relate all that was said till there came Coaches for most of us, which carried us to one of the most famous Inns in Hambrough.  
We were a good Company of us, and abode there some days to refresh ourselves after our Voyage. The Merchant of Hambourgh invited us to go to an House of Pleasure which he had in the Country near the Elbe, where we were treated with unexpressible Magnificence for an whole day, with some of the principal Ladies of Hambourgh who spoke French: There were also some other excellent Persons for Worth and Beauty, so that there was nothing wanting to make this Assembly perfect.  
I must needs say, that the Power of Joy with Love is very wondered. Madamoiselle de St. Phale is naturally gay, yet she had a certain Languor in her Eyes whilst she was separated from her Lover, which vanished as soon as eve● she saw him. As for Madamoiselle de Garissolles she was certainly a Virgin that as well deserved to be beloved as any in the World, in whom Wisdom, Modesty and Piety, were accompanied with Spirit, Beauty, Nobility and Youth, which is indeed very rare. Our two Ladies of Hambourgh were as much taken with her as they had been with Madamoiselle de St. Phale. Mounsieur de Haute-Cour and Mounsieur d' Ombreval lef● their Mistresses for some Moment's to Compliment those Ladies, which occasioned one of the pleasantest Conversations in the World.   
FINIS.