THE Unequal Match: OR, THE LIFE OF MARY OF ANJOU QUEEN of MAJORCA. An Historical Novel.  
LONDON, Printed for Charles Blount near the Bear Tavern by the New Exchange in the Strand, and Richard Butt at the Bear and Orange-Tree in Princess Street near the Horshoo-Tavern in Drury-Lane: 1681.   

TO THE Right Honourable THE Countess Dowager of Tenet, etc.  
Madam,  
WHen greatness is maintained and attended with all those Gifts and Talents which procure it ecteem and respect, when Persons of the highest Rank and Quality are more illustrious by their Merit than their Fortune, it is no wonder if the World flocks to them with Offerings, and that their excellencies procure them sometimes trouble and importunities instead of ease and satisfaction. All those who have the Honour to know you, Madam, speak even with that veneration of your Ladyship, that I could not curb the Ambition I have of adding one voice to the general shout, and from crowding up to your Feet, with this present. It is a Presumption, Madam, I should have despaired of ever having been able to have attoned for, had not this story of the Queen of Majorca met with that approbation in the World, that it has been found capable of entertaining with delight the greatest Judges, amongst whom your Ladyship being with justice acknowledged to have the first Place, this Queen fancied she could be no where so safe as under so glorious a Protection, and therefore was restless and impatient, till I had Ushered and Introduced her into your Ladyship's presence. I shall have fully satisfied my vanity, if you find her Company, Madam, as agreeable as others have done, and if you can think fit to Pardon the dress she appears in, which I'm afraid will be found to have too much of the French in it, and I in this a too Superstitious observer of their Mode. But should I excuse myself with her being huddled up in haste, I should but prove the more importunate; Nor shall I tell the World that Honour, Wit, and Virtue, have never had a better Example than your Ladyship, it would be I fancy like a Man in the Month of May or April, who in a clear, bright, Sunshining Day, having a fair Prospect of all the Beauty's Nature was ever capable of bestowing, and which were adorned by all manner of improvements, would declare to the World that it was Spring; and Figure to himself he had discovered a great secret, in publishing what was already the general delight, Admiration and Wonder: he could not fail of being similed at for his folly, which to avoid, it is sit that I be silent in a Subject that is above description, that I make my Leg, and retire with all Submission and Respect.  
Madam, Your Ladyship's most Obedient and most humble Servant. F. S.   

MARY OF ANJOU, QUEEN OF MAJORCA.  
THe Caprichiousness of the Stars is much to be admired in the Destiny of Princesses, who seem to have been only born in an illustrious Rank, for to be the more unhappy; Policy usually requiring, that they be delivered to Husbands without consulting their Inclinations; and that they be purely victim of State. Mary of Anjou, Daughter of Charles the Second, King of Naples and Sicily, was a Famous Example of the fantassticalness not to say of the injustice of the Stars. The King her Father gave her, or rather Sacrificed her to the King of Majorca. He had for her that tender affection, that the most accomplished Princess upon the Earth merited; several Princes aspired to so Illustrious a Possession, and she might have been happy. The King of Majorca was an Old Man, of a whimsical and fierce humour: had already had two Wives, nay and had the Reputation of knowing how to dispatch them when he pleased. An Union so ill suited, could not but produce a very ill agreement. Yet all these reasons tho' very powerful, could not prevail in the mind of King Charles, over the reasons of State; His Affairs demanded this Sacrifice from him, the King of Majorca offered him great succours by Sea, of which he had extreme need for the resisting the powerful Fleet, that was preparing against him by Don James d' Arragon, out of whose Prison he was newly released; Insomuch that he accepted that alliance preferable to so many others, if not more illustrious, at least more suitable to the Age and Humour of the Princess his Daughter, but which could not be then so useful to him, as that of the King of Majorca.  
I shall take the Subject a little farther than would be necessary for a History of Gallantry, but as it is one of the finest Circumstances of the History of Italy, and that I shall say nothing which does not belong to a faithful Historian, I assure myself, that a Reader the least curious, will not take ill my having added to the amorous Narration, a recital of the passages of most importance in that time, and which will be no less diverting than what there was of Gallantry.  
Charles the Second of that name, King of Naples and Sicily, one of the greatest Princes then under the Heavens, had been more than Ten Years free Possessor of those two powerful Kingdoms, when his ambition which could not contain itself in the Narrow Bounds of some States, which made but a little part of the World, stirring up his Warlike Humour, inspired him with more glorious Conquests. Constantinople that Famous City, appeared to him a Subject worthy enough to make him take Arms, and some Lands he had in Morea, being capable of serving him for a reason, or at least for a pretext to pretend to the Empire of the East: He prepared himself to drive away the Emperor Michael Paleologue, but fortune raised him on a sudden greater Affairs than he could put an end to, and gave him in his own Country, wherewith to Exercise his Marshall-Genius.  
The French according to their usual Custom lived in Sicily, with that Liberty amongst the Women they take in all places. Their Gallantry little agreeable to the Humour of the Country, giving occasion of complaints to several Husbands, there was one certain John de Procula, Physician of the deceased King Manfroy, whose Crown Charles the Second then possessed, who entertaining some secret Intelligences with the Principal Lords of the Kingdom, resolved to deliver his Country from so Incommode a Nation; He went for that end to Constantinople, had made known to the Emperor Michael the design that King Charles had, hoping to engage him by a Motive of revenge as well as of glory to favour the discontented party; but his practices not succeeding in that Court, which demanded nothing but Peace; and was not at the least in a State of giving great succours to the Sicilians, he passed into Catalonia, where he offered the Sovereignty of the Isle of Sicily, to Peter King of Arragon, who had Married Constance, Daughter of Manfroy, King of Naples and Sicily; Peter being an Ambitious Prince, and one of the most valiant of his time, pushed on by jealousy of the Glory of Charles, as well as by Ambition, for so fair a Conquest: listened to the Proposition of Procula, without seeming, however, to close with it, till he first knew what the Pope's Sentiments were therein, to whom this Physician made two Journeys: And in fine after several Paces and Solicitations, the Resolution being taken by Pietro d' Arragon, Nicholaus the Third, who then held the Pontificial See at Rome, gave him the investiture of that Kingdom.  
What was most strange in the success of an Affair of so great an Importance, and at which Posterity will have ever reason to be astonished, is, that it was carried on with that Order and Secrecy for the space of Eighteen Months, it was in Treaty, that it could never come to the knowledge of any French Man. Insomuch that in one and the same day, at the first ringing of the Bell for Vespers, generally all the Cities of that Kingdom took Arms, and made a horrible Massacre of all the French without any exception; And they were possessed to that Point, with hatred or rather with fury against that Nation; that they put to the Sword, all the Women they found, that they believed to be with Child by any French Man. This horrible Tragedy happened in the Year, 1281. about Eleven Years after the Entire Establishment of Charles the First, in the two Kingdoms.  
The Sicilians having thus cruelly freed themselves from the French, and Pietro d' Arragon, having taken possession of the Island, Charles was forced to quit the vast designs he had on the East, to think of having satisfaction for so cruel a Revolt; He prepared a powerful Army against Sicily, and being come to beseige Messina, he found the enterprise more difficult than he had believed it. Insomuch, that he was obliged to raise the Siege, and was repulsed as far as Calabria, from whence he went to Rome, to complain to the Pope of the Investiture he had given to Pietro of Arragon, who in that time was Crowned at Palermo.  
This Affair was agitated in full Assembly, and the two Kings not agreeing, it was resolved that it should be decided by the way of Arms, between these two Princes; and this Duel, a thing very strange, was even by the allowance of the Holy See. Bourdeaux, the Capital City of Gascony, was chosen for the place of the Rendezvous, and the King of England for Judge. Wherefore Charles came to the Place on the day assigned, and waited the greatest part of the day for Peter of Arragon, who kept himself so well concealed, that no Body knew where he was, only it had been heard said the day before, that he was still so far from Bourdeaux, that it was almost impossible, he could arrive there on the Day of assignation: Insomuch, that Charles upon the going down of the Sun retired, and departed at the same time from Bourdeaux. Peter of Arragon, who had run incessantly upon good Horses, that he had caused to be placed upon the ways, being arrived in cognito in the City, kept himself concealed till Charles was gone, and then he appeared in the Field of Battle, in the presence of him who presided there, being a Lord the King of England had sent in his place, and complained of King Charles, whose Impatient Haughtiness had not permitted him to attend his Arrival. He walked in that manner upon the place, till that he saw the Stars appear, than he remounted his Horse, and returned with the same swiftness that he came, going, as is reported, Thirty Leagues that Night. He retired into a place of safety, thus deceiving King Charles; but Martin the Fourth, who was then Pope, excommunicated him, and conferred the Kingdom of Catalonia, on Charles of Valois, Second Son of Philip, King of France.  
In the time that King Charles went to Bourdeaux for this Duel, Roger de Loria a Portuguese by Birth, Admiral of King Peter of Arragon, one of the most experienced as well as the bravest Captains, that had e'er been upon the Sea, plied all the Coast of Naples, with Forty Five Galleys, ruining all the Country, as far as the City of Naples, where he likewise came and shot an infinite number of Arrows, reproaching the Neopolitans with Cowardice, defying them to come fight him. Which so strongly animated a Number of brave men, there was in that City, and especially the Young Nobility, that could not endure so cruel an affront, that Charles Prince of Salerno, the only Son of Charles the Second, took the Resolution of fight him, notwithstanding, all the Opposition of the Legate, and the Express Orders of the King his Father, who had recommended to him, to think only of well defending the City, and not to come to blows with the Enemies; This Prince, I say, pushed on with a desire of Glory, as well as Indignation at so injurious a reproach, went out with Thirty Galleys, and some other Vessels of less Consequence: and attacked with more Valour than force Loria's Fleet, who after a very sharp fight, was at the length Conqueror, took Nine Galleys, and a great number of Young Lords, amongst which was Charles Prince of Salerno, who was kept with Nine of those he would choose, and the rest were sent to Prison in Sicily, of whom, more than two Hundred were beheaded at Messina, in revenge of the Death of Corradin, Young Prince of Suevia, whom King Charles whose Prisoner of War he was, af-the cruel Sentence of Pope Clement the Fourteenth, a Provential by Birth, who wrote to him, Vita Corradini mors Caroli, mors Carradini vita Caroli; this King, I say, put him into the Hands of Justice, who condemned him to Death; A Sentence however, which not only every French Lord and Gentleman refused to Sign, but whose Execution was fiercely opposed by the Count of Flanders, Son-in-Law to King Charles, saying that a Prince of that Blood was not to be put to Death after that manner: But to give him his Liborty, and to make him rather a Friend, and an Ally, by the means of a Marriage.  
The Day after the defeat of the Prince of Salerno, the King his Father returning from Gascony, arrived at Gayeta, with Sixty Galleys, and Three great Ships with Soldiers and Horses; and learned the sad News of his Son's misfortune, and that there was already a Revolt in the City of Naples, all the People crying, may Roger de Loria live and Charles die. At which this Prince fell into so great a Passion, that being come near that City; he would not Land at the Port, but above the Church of the Carmelites, where he descended with design to set on fire that ungrateful and rebellious City. And was a long time in that cruel Resolution, but at length conquered by the Tears of some good People, and by the Prayers of the Legate, he pardoned them, after having caused a Hundred and Fifty of the most culpable to be hanged. This punishment having both calmed and terrified the City, all his cares were to raise a powerful Army, for to pass into Sicily, which was ready about Autumn; and he came to Cotrona with a Hundred and Ten Galleys, and some other Sails; but seeing the Winter come on, and wanting Victuals and Money for so great a Fleet, he went to disarm at Brindiso, with design to put to Sea again in the Spring, and in the mean time to make Provision of all that should be necessary for the bringing to pass his Projects; If Death had not made them vanish in a moment. He died at Foggia, a City in la Poville, oppressed with sadness and Melancholy, after having lived Fifty Six Years, and reigned Nineteen. This Prince was tall, of a ruddy Complexion, had a great Nose, and a fierce and Martial Air, he was sharp and severe in punishment, much more admirable for War than for Peace; As to the rest, very serious, and of almost a Religious Life in what concerned Love. He slept little, spoke seldom, doing more than he said; He was liberal to brave men, and firm in his Promises, an Enemy of Trifles and useless Courtiers, but a generous Protector of Soldiers, and Ambitious more than any Prince whatever, resolute to have Money at any rate soever, when he was to bring to pass any enterprise. One of the things that have been most found fault with, in this Prince, and which has lest some stain in his Glory, is the great Licence, he gave to Soldiers in time of Peace, to the great disadvantage of his Subjects; but otherwise, one of the most accomplished Princes of the Earth.  
In that time, Pope Martin had sent two Cardinals to Sicily, for the endeavouring to make Peace with King Peter of Arragon, and not being able to reduce him to accept the Conditions that they proposed, they renewed the Excommunication, there was against him; and likewise Excommunicated all Sicily, from whence they departed in that manner: The Sicilians more Animated than ever, to see themselves so ill Treated by the Pope, in Consideration of the French, having learned the Death of King Charles run to the Prisons where the rest of those were who had been taken with the Prince of Salerno, for to Massacre them: But they found there so vigorous a Resistance, that for the sparing of the Blood of theirs, they were Obliged to set the Prison on Fire, and caused the Death by this unmerciful Cruelty of the finest Youth that had been seen of a long time in Italy, in sequel of which they caused the Judges of the Principal Cities of the Kingdom to Assemble, for to make the Process of the Prince of Salerno, who was in Prison with Nine of his Friends, after the Example of King Charles the First who had caused Corradin to be thus judged, and they all unanimously condemned him to be Beheaded, as had happened to the unfortunate Prince of Suevia; But Queen Constance, a Princess, whom Historians cannot enough commend, being then in Sicily, designed to save him, and for to satisfy the People, who demanded his Death, she let them understand, that in an Affair of so great Importance, nothing could be Executed without the allowance of the King her Husband; and thereupon she ordered, that that Prince should be sent into Catalonia, where King Peter of Arragon was, to the end he might do as he should think convenient. This was at length approved by the People, and much Commanded in the World after the Action of Charles the First.  
The Pope having learned the Death of this King, sent to Naples, in Quality of Legate, Gerard Cardinal of Parma, and King Philip the Count de Artois his Son, for to take care of the State with Mary Princess of Salerno, in the Name of Charles then in Prison; during that, this King on the other side with the Count de Valois, to whom the Pope had given the Investiture of Catalonia, entered that Kingdom with two powerful Armies, of which that by Sea was of a Hundred and Twenty Galleys. They won Girona by assault, where the King of Arragon, who was there in Person to defend it, received a Wound, of which he died. He left Anfus his Eldest Son King of Arragon, and Don James the Second, King of Sicily.  
During that time, Roger de Loria, being departed from Sicily, to come to the Succours of the King his Master, learned that a part of the Fleet of France was in the Port of Roses, and that the other was gone to seek Victuals at Narbonne. Whereupon he went and attacked first that of Roses, of which he burned a part, having taken or sunk the rest, and made Prisoner Enguiran Admiral of France. From thence turning towards that of Narbonne, he surprised and defeated it with much less difficulty than the former, which being understood by King Philip, who was Sick at Perpignan, it so grieved him, that it caused his Death; and almost at the same time that of Pope Martin the Fourth, Insomuch that there died in the space of a Year three Kings and a Pope.  
Things seemed to be some thing appeased in the midst of so many Deaths of that Consideration, and the King of England, who was come into Gascony, endeavouring to make Peace between the two Young Kings, James and Charles the Second, then in Prison in Catalonia; had almost concluded when it was interrupted by the Occasion I am going to relate.  
The Cardinal Legat, and the Count d' Artois, Governors of the Kingdom of Naples, judging the Conjuncture fair for the recovering of Sicily, resolved with Fifty Galleys that they had obtained part from the Venetians, and part elsewhere, and some Militia, that they had caused to come from Toscany with the French, and the Country People, to attempt this enterprise under the Command of Raynand, Count of Aveline. This Fleet put to Sea, they Landed in that Kingdom, they besieged Catania, they took it, and the Count fortifying himself there, sent his Fleet to Naples, for to take in the Soldiers which had been left on Shoar there. At the same time the Count of Montsort Vicar of Toscany, accompanied with the Count de Boulogne, and Philip Son of the Count of Flanders, who were at Sienna, departing from Maremma, with a Fleet of Sixty Galleys, of which Arrigin of Genoa was Admiral, came towards Sicily, to join with the Count de Aveline. But de Loria, who had newly won two Famous Victories, having learned at his coming from that of Narboune, the descent that the Nepolitans had made into Sicily, turned that way, and came to the Succours of the Sicilians. The First that he met with, were those of the Count de Aveline, who were going to Naples, whom he chased, and finding them almost unprovided of Soldiers, he immediately routed them: and from thence going to meet that of the Count of Montfort, which was coming from Toscany, there was a furious fight, in which being at length Conqueror, he took the Count of Montfort Prisoner, the Count of Boulogne, and Prince Philip. These two last ransomed themselves with a Sum of Money; But the Count of Montfort, having been detained Prisoner, died some time aster in Prison. Aafter these two Victories, Catania being besieged by all the Army of Arragon, without any hope of Succours, was obliged to render upon Composition, in the Articles of which it was permitted to the Count de Aveline, to retire to Naples, he and all those who had accompanied him.  
The Treaty of Peace between these two Kings, that Edward of England had begun, having been interrupted upon this Subject, he brought it again upon the Board, and infine concluded it upon Conditions much less favourable for Charles than the former, because things had extremely Changed Face, after the Victories that the Loria had won. King Charles promised and obliged himself to procure that the Count of Valois should renounce all the pretensions that he might have upon Catalonia, by virtue of the Investiture that Pope Martin the Fourth had given him of it; and that he would Labour at his own Charges, to make James King of Sicily be Crowned, who gave him three Years to acquit himself of these two Articles, for want of which Charles swore he would come again and put himself in Prison at the End of that Term, in the same place where he was, and for surety of his word he gave to King james Three of his Sons in Hostage, who were Lewis since Bishop of Tholose, Robert who succeeded his Father in the Kingdom of Naples, and John Prince de la Morea, who died very Young, with whom King Charles their Father left. Fifty of the Bravest Gentlemen, he had then with him. And Infine having moreover paid three Thousand Marks of Silver in Carolins, he was delivered out of Prison in the Year 1288, where he had been detained Four Years. He went immediately into France, to acquit himself of his word, and to procure of the Count de Valois, that he should Renounce the Pretensions, he had upon Catalonia; But he could never obtain it, and departing from that Court, with a Number of Young Lords, and some Squadrons, which were under the Command of Emerick de Narbonne, he came into Italy, passed through Perugia, where he saw Pope Nicholas the Fourth, who had succeeded Martin the Fourth, with whom having Treated of the renewing and Confirmation of his States; This Pope whether out of Imprudence, or Malice, for the Opinions are Divers therein, Entitled him King of both Sicily's, in the Year 1289, After which he went to Naples, where he was expected with the greatest Impatience by all his Subjects, who had not ceased to make Vows for his Liberty. But what was Extraordinary, and filled with joy and tenderness, the Hearts of those who were there present, was to see the King with a Train of Young Lords, the most splendid and magnificent that had ever been beheld, and on the other side the Queen his Consort who went Three Leagues out of the City to meet him, accompanied with Charles Martel his Eldest Son, Philip Prince of Taranto his Fourth Son, and with Four Princesses his Daughters; Blanehe, Eleonora, Mary, and Beatrix, Clemence being married to the Count de Valois, all of them perfect Beauties, and who had after them a Train of Young Princes, whom Glory and Love, Arms and Gallantry, diversely engaged in that Court. It would be very dissicult to express the Joy that the King had at the sight of the Queen and his Children; not being able to leave off Caressing them, especially the Princess Mary, for whom he had ever had a Particular tenderness, and who was so increased in. Beauty since his absence that he could not enough admire her. The People of Naples received him with a joy and Acclamations that touched to very Tears: and the rejoicings upon his happy return, were such as if fortune had ever been on their side. Those Young Princes were seen to strive to out do one another by their Addresses and Magnificence in the Tournaments; and all the other Feasts which were daily made: especially those who besides Honour were Spirited with an Interest of Heart. Love Animating them to suprass all the others. All these Princesses were infinitely pretty; Yet as Palates are very different therein as in all other things, Mary according to the most Common Opinion, carried it from all the others, and as soon as she approached her Sisters, she seemed to Efface them. The Eulogies that the History of Italy give her, surpass all that can be believed. She had not only fine Eyes, a Nose, and a Mouth, perfectly accomplished, Teeth extremely white, a Shape, a Gate, an Air, a Port, a Majesty worthy of the most lovely Princess upon the Earth; Her wit was likewise admirable in all kinds, a Grace in all she did, as well as in all she said, that Charmed all People, and an understanding so fruitful in all sort of matters, that she not only astonished but confounded the most intelligent. So powerful Charms hardly begun to appear, than that they had Adorers, and by the measure they increased, the number of her Gallants augmented also. Insomuch that of all her Sisters, she was the best provided by Love, as well as she had been by Nature: There was reckoned amongst her votaries the Count of Boulogne, and Prince Philip, as those who made the greatest noise; after whom followed Azzo, Marques d' Este, Prince of Ferrara, and Henry of Narbonne, Son of Emmeric, who endeavoured to attain to the magnisicence, as well as Gallantry of the former; but a fifth who sighed in secret for the Beauty of that Charming Princess, and who was the Lord of the Court, the most generally esteemed, and the most welcome to the Ladies, was the Young Hamibal Count d' Aveline, Son of Raynand, one of the Gallantest men, and the best made of all Italy. The Glory and Rank of his Rivals had not hindered him to declare; his Heart was Young and ambitious, and would not have yielded to the Chiefest Princes of the Earth, but not seeing them more happy after their Declaration; and fearing a like Destiny with so haughty a Princess, he would manage her esteem which he possessed, better the way he took, than any of his Rivals: His cares, his assiduities, and his Complacency which he had for her from the Morning to the Evening; were what spoke, and would have made her divine something of what passed in his mind, if that Divine Princess, from whose Penetration nothing escaped, had not out of the goodness she had for him, endeavoured to persuade herself the contrary, that she might not have reason to Treat him like the others, taking too much pleasure in all the little Devoires he rendered her, not to be troubled to give them another interpretation than that of the usual Gallantry. However his Rivals who were very powerful with the King, whether by their Quality, or by the Services they had rendered him, and which they were still ready to render him, pressed him very hard to declare himself in favour of some One, and the report was, his Inclination was most for Philip the Son of the Count of Handers, which very much alarmed all the others, and especially Hannibal, in whose Face was not only seen sadness, but Death Painted, from the time he heard talk of this Marriage. But the News which arrived, that King James of Arragon prepared to renew the War more hot than ever, giving other thoughts and cares to King Charles, than those of making Nuptials, were a great ease to the despair of these unhappy Rivals.  
This Prince, having learned that King Charles, contrary to the Faith of the last Treaty, had caused the Pope to give him the Investiture of the two Sicities, animated with hatred and resentment, resolved to be revenged, and made incessantly Warlike Preparations to go and attack him in his own Country; Charles the Second, as vigilant as a generous Prince, had not wanted foresight, judging that his Enemy would not leave him long in Peace; He had Soldiers enough, but the losses that the Kingdom had had upon the Sea, while that he was in Prison, in the two last Rencounters there had been, wherein Count Raynaud on the one side, and the Count of Montfort on the other, had been defeated, had so weakened him in that part, that all that the King had been able to do, since the little time he was returned to Naples, was to prepare a Fleet of Thirty Galleys, with which he could not pretend to show himself against the Forces of the King of Arragon, who had more than Fourscore Sail, under the Conduct of the Famous Roger de Loria. However the time pressed, the News came that King James was arrived in Sicily, that by his Cabals he had caused part of Calabria to revolt, and that Catenzano had yielded up to him, in so pressing a necessity, his allies finding themselves incommoded, or at least discontented at the losses they had had in the two last Engagements, not to be able to assist him so soon, he knew not what Council to take, nor to whom to have recourse, for the helping him to extinguish the Fire, which was just lighted in his own Kingdom, being more necessary for him to have forces by Sea to hinder the Succours of Sicily, than an Army by Land, in which he was strong enough, when there appeared in the Port of Naples, Six Galleys which brought an Ambassador that the King of Majorca sent to King Charles, to demand of him the Princess Mary in Marriage, in considedration of which he offered him Forty-Galleys, and Six Hundred Men at Arms, who were ready to set Sail at the first Order they should have. This Ambassador was received with that Joy and Honour as so obliging offers merited, and which came so conveniently as those did. It is true, that there was little Proportion between the Youth and the Qualities of that fair Princess, and the Age and Humour of this King; but the necessity of the time, and the advantage of an Alliance with a Prince so powerful at Sea, and who becoming an Enemy by the refusal that should have been made him, would not have sailed to have took the part of the Arragonians, were reasons which prevailed over all the others, and over the particular tenderness the King had for that Princess; he proposed Blanch or Eleonora, but the demand was express for Mary, to the Exclusion of all the others. Insomuch that in fine he was forced to resolve of this Sacrifice, and the Affairs of the Kingdom, obliging the King to press the Conclusion of this Marriage, for the sooner having the Succours, he expected it was almost as soon done as proposed. The astonishment of all our Lovers, was as great as cruel: they had no sooner learned the Subject of that Embassy, than that they saw that Negotiation brought to an end. The King endeavoured to satisfy the most Considerable, as the Count of Boulogne, Prince Philip, the Marquis d' Este, and Henry of Narbonne, there being other fair Princesses enough in his. Family, for to repair that loss, if that the Honour of his Alliance bound them to his Person; For Hannibal's part, he had nothing but grief: from whose Succours he hoped to put quickly an end to his pains, at the same time with his life. But that which made him quite desperate, was that the Princess who had more Confidence in him than in any other Lord of the Court, imparted to him part of her troubles, and the little satisfoction she expected in this Marriage; complaining to him of the Cruelty of her Destiny, with Terms so touching the Soul of the sad and passionate Hannibal, that notwithstanding all the constraint he made upon himself, he could not hinder sighing, without daring to look upon her, for fear his Eyes which he could not so well govern, as his mouth, should have acquainted her with a secret, it was less time than ever she should know. The Fatal Day arrived at length, that she was to departed, all the Court was to take leave of her, except the Count Hannibal, whom she caused to be sought for every where without being found. He even knew not, what was become of himself, so much the grief of so Cruel a Separation: had put him besides himself, he too well knew the weakness of his Heart, for to expose himself in the middle of all the Court, to bear so cruel a moment as that of the departure of that Charming Princess, that the most indifferent could not see without Tears: He went out of the City, attended only by his Gentleman of the Horse; and from the Sea Shoar, where he stayed, he saw the Galleys of Majorc● depart with an  Air, and almost without Sentiment, they carrying from him all that he had most dear in the World, without being able to retire from that Contemplation, so long as his sight could accompany them.  
The City of Majorca, which bears the Name of the Isleland, is one of the prettyest Situations in the Mediterranean Sea and the Castle of Belver Palace, where the Kings resided, and which is a Work o● the Ancient Moors, half a League from the City, is one of the most lovely Place in the World. But to what use is the agreableness of Places to a Young Princess if it be not joined to that of Persons She was hardly arrived there, than tha● the King her Husband would send back the few People that accompanied her, and this order was Executed, notwithstanding all the Opposition she brought to it. So strange a beginning could not fail of having sad Consequences. She quickly found a great difference between that gloomy and desert Court, and that of the King her Father where all smiled, but seeing daily some Change in the things that concerned her, and that her Liberty diminished by the same degrees that her pains augmented, she had many more Complaints to make. This Conduct appeared to her by so much the more rude, in that having been brought up in an Air of Grandeur and Liberty, Honoured, Served, and if it may be said, adored by all the Princes and Lords at the Court of King Charles her Father, she saw none about her but Old Women, who served her ill enough, and shut up in Five or Six Chambers of her apartment, out of which she could not go, without the Permission of the King her Husband, and that even very rarely. What a Destiny for a Young and Fair Princess, whom the chiefest Kings of the Earth would have been proud of serving, to see herself a slave in a place, where she ought to have Commanded: and without having tasted any of the Sweets that others find in Marriage, to be exposed to all the pains of without and within, that could attend so in compatible a Union. She did nothing but shed Tears every day, but those Tears instead of softening the Heart of that Cruel Monarch, did but the more Irritate him; imagining that they were so many snares that the Gossipping Humour of his Wife laid for his Honour.  
The Countess of Palomer, a Young Widow, who was with the Queen in Quality of her Lady of Honour, extremely touched to see so Charming a Princess treated after that manner, took so great a kindness for her, that there was no manner of care, or Complaisance which she did not employ for the giving some diversion to her displeasures, she was a very lovely person of a good Wit, and of so engaging and sweet a Humour, that it was a great Comfort to the sad Queen, the having her with her, she had loved her from the first day she had seen her, and put in her an entire Confidence, imparting to her all her troubles, to which the Countess applied, the softest remedies she could imagine. But in fine the troublesome Humour of the Old King; came to that point of Caprichiousness and Impassion, that there was no longer bearing it, insomuch that the Queen by the Council of her dear Countess, took the Resolution of writing concerning it, to the King her Father, hoping that, as he had ever tenderly loved her, he would take pity of the Condition, to which she was reduced: and would take order at least, that she might be something better treated. But the dissiculty was to find a faithful and able Messenger, who would charge himself with the Letter, and carry it to Naples. The Queen had not one Servant with her, in whom she could trust, they were so many spies that the King kept to take notice of all her actions: The Countess was observed as strictly as she, and the King's chief Minister was one, Don Geronimo, from whose penetration and vigilance it was difficult to keep any thing of that Consequence. However at the length, seeing themselves extremely perplexed, not knowing upon whom they should cast their Eyes for to serve them in this occasion, without their design being in danger of coming to the King's knowledge, the Countess bethought herself to propose to the Queen that same Don Geronimo the King's chief Minister. At which that Princess much surprised, asked her if she rallyed, to employ the man of all the Kingdom, they ought most to fear, who was all the King's Council, and to whose persuasions she fancied she owed the greatest part of the troubles she suffered. It is true, Madam, answered the Countess, that Don Geronimo has a great power over the King's Spirit; that he is a Creature wholly devoted to him: and that perhaps to make his Court, he approves the Conduct, that is held with you. But it is likewise true, that this Minister owes more to the Count de Palomer, whose charge he at present possesses, than to the King; that it was my deceased Husband, who made him what he is, and that he arrived not to that high degree of Fortune, not being of a Birth for that, but by his means. Don Geronimo, Madam, continued the Countess, whom the Queen listened to with Delight, is a Catalonian by Birth, and having the Reputation of a man of great learning, it obliged the Count to send for him to Majorca, for to take care of the two Sons he had had by his first Wife. He was so satisfied with his Conduct, that after having employed him in some Affairs which he performed extremely well, and like a man of sense, he made him known to the King; advanced him from charge to charge, till that dying, he told the King, that there was not a man in his Kingdom who was more capable of that he possessed and which was going to be vacant by his Death, than Don Geronimo, in which the King who besides the esteem he had, ever had of the Count's Penetration, had a very great Opinion of Don Geronimo's Capacity, followed my Husband's Council, and as soon as he was dead, notwithstanding all the Cabals at Court, for so Considerable a Charge, he advanced to it Don Geronimo. So much grace and so great an Obligation that he owed to the memory of his former Master, could not render a Man ungrateful, and I must needs say in his praise, that the acknowledgement he has of it, is such as I could desire it; That he lives not with me as a chief Minister of State, but as if he were still the Count's Domestic, with respects and cares that have never ceased, since my Husband's Death, interessing himself in all my Affairs as if they were his own, and I can likewise say that the Employ I have about you, Madam, is less an effect of the acknowledgement that the King owes to the good Services that the Count de Palomer has done him, than to the Solicitations of Don Geronimo. In fine, Madam, he has neglected nothing, not only of all that could be for my advantage, but of all that could please me, and what I have told you of the King, it is from him that I knew it; and all the Counsels that I have given you, came from him; thus, Madam, added the Countess, it is not to be feared but that if we employ him, he will serve us faithfully and usefully. The Queen very much Charmed to hear all these things, told her with an extreme joy, that they needed not to go seek any farther, since they had for them the man of the Kingdom, who could the most easily and without danger bring to pass their design. Whereupon they concluded, that the Countess should first speak to him, to see if he were disposed to serve the Queen in an Affair of that Consequence, without telling him however what it was, and that the Queen should afterwards finish the rest. The Countess took her time one Morning that the King was gone a Hunting, for the having the more Liberty, not only to discourse him herself, but to cause him to speak to the Queen, and having sent for him, he came immediately to her Chamber, where after a small obliging reveiw of all the cares he had for her, and having declared to him the delight she took, to see how acknowledging he was, for what the Count de Palomer had done for him, she fell to discourse of the sad Condition whereto the Poor Queen was reduced, which was the Subject, for which she had sent for him, not doubting but that he was sensible of it, esteeming him as she did, that he could do nothing to comfort her, and that nothing in the World could better declare him to be her Friend, than in endeavouring to find some means, that, that lovely Princess might be treated with less Cruelty, assuring him that she was so sensibly touched at her unhappy Destiny: that she suffered more than the half of her pains. Don Geronimo, the most Ardent of all men in what concerned the obliging the Countess, after having assured her, that he had neither Goods, Fortune, nor Life, which she might not dispose of, and which he would not employ for her, and for all that she loved, declared to her, that he was already impatient to know what the Queen desired of him; Whereupon the Countess made him pass into that Princess' Cabinet, where she expected him, for the having a more secret Conference with him; As she had prepared herself for what she was to tell him, and that she knew that the Conntess had made the advances that were necessary, she no sooner saw him in her Cabinet, out of which the Countess attended, for fear some Body should hear them, than that falling to the business immediately, she told him, that being at length wearied with the Visions and continual Caprichio's of the King, not to say follies and rage: That she was resolved to write of it to the King her Father, and that she prayed him if he had any Consideration, or at least any pity of an unfortunate Princess, he would furnish her with the means for the doing this; and aid her with his Council and Credit, to procure some Temperament to the sad State of her Life, and that the King her Husband might Treat her with a little more softness. Don Geronimo, who had harkened to all this discourse, with the posture of a Man who was profoundly applied, to the Proposition that was made him; was sometime without answering the Queen, for the making appear of what importance that was she desired of him. After which he represented to her, the difficulties there was in this design, into what incidents he might Precipitate himself, if he so far proceeded to serve her, wherein not only his Fortune was concerned, which he would not consider, in the Honour and Joy he should have of contributing any thing to the easing her pains; but his Life, if the King got the least knowledge of it, and that this demanded some time to think of it. Insomuch that he prayed her to give him at least the rest of the day for that end, the Queen granted it him, but she presently fancied, that it was a Pretexte, that she had confided in a man, who only demanded time to consider of it, that he might excuse himself the more Civilly. Don Geronims being retired, the Countess entered the Cabinet, where she saw the Queen with a sad air, which presaged to her nothing of happy for their Enterprise. Has Don Geronimo, Madam, deceived my hopes? Not quite, answered she, but the pain he is in, among so many dangers he sees, to employ himself for us, makes me fear he will not charge himself with this Affair: After which relating to her the rest of the Conference they had had together, she made her see how little they were to rely on his Succours: However the Countess, who would not believe that she had vainly slattered herself of the Credit she fancied she had with this Minister, begged the Queen not to despair, till that she had spoke to him once more; and that very Evening she sent for him, thinking herself too much concerned, after the advances she had made, not to make use of all she thought most effective to engage him not to refuse. Don Geronimo came, who knowing wherefore he was called, Composed his Face according to his design, and appeared at first with the Air of a Man so Melancholy and so perplexed, that the Countess almost lost her hopes of reducing him to what she desired. Hereupon she renewed her pressing ways and full of Charms, to endeavour to put him in a better Humour: The Cunning Don Geronimo seemed still difficult, he told her into how many dangers such an Affair was capable of drawing a Man, and showed her yet greater dissiculties than to the Queen; But the Countess not willing to stop in so fair a way, and perceiving notwithstanding all that this Minister told her, that she might yet gain him; asked him what was become of those Protestations so often reiterated, that he had neither Fortune nor Life that she might not dispose of, and pushing that point still farther in telling him that the shame of this refusal would fall all upon her, because it was she who had engaged the Queen to declare herself to him, from whom she had promised herself more zeal to oblige her, than he made appear▪ there is no manner of softness, looks, sentiments, assurances of friendship, and all that a pretty Woman has of most engageing to bring a Man to her will, but what she employed, and seeing that this Minister begun to yield, she was in a greater joy than she could make appear. The sensible Don Geronimo, who was touched to the very bottom of his Heart, by all the Countess said, suffering himself to be carried away with the motions that Transported him, took one of her fair hands, which he dared to kiss. That action made the Lady something blush, having ever seen Don Geronimo with the greatest respect for her: but the conjuncture of time and the need they had of him, would have procured his Pardon for much greater Liberty. She could have desired he would have gone to the Queen's apartment, to impart to her himself the good intentions he had for her service; but he excused himself upon some pressing Affair, which demanded his attendance upon the King; and prayed her at the same time that she would herself carry the news, that he was ready to risk all for her sake, as he would not fail to go and confirm to her the next day at her rising.  
As soon as the Countess saw him gone, she run immediately to the Queen to acquaint her with Don Geronimo's Resolution; which was really to her the most agreeable news she could have brought; but which required the assurances of the Minister himself to be in perfect joy, of which he did not fail at the Hour he promised, and he charged himself not only with the Letter she would write to the King her Father; but to make it have the success she desired, to accompany it with one of his own, which should be no less effectual: the Queen willing to acknowledge his zeal, told him that he would all his Life find, not only a Prop in her, whose power was not great in Majorca, but a Protector in the Person of the King of Naples, who could better acknowledge than she the Service he rendered her. Don Geronimo listening to what the Queen told him, with an air indifferent enough, the King your Father, Madam, answered he is a great Monaoch, and can content the Ambition of a Man much more Elevated by Fortune than I am, but it is not what I seek, Madam, and you can do more here for me than I can desire, for the being the most happy of all men, I know not, continued he siighing, if the respect I own to your Majesty, should permit me to pursue this discourse, but I fancied, that in abandoning my Life for you, you would if you could, render it happy. He stopped here some moments without saying any thing, during which the Queen was in great pain, fearing that in the disorder she saw him, he would make use of the necessity there was of him, for the exacting something from her that might be contrary to her Glory: Insomuch that she was two or three times upon the point of sending him back, without hearing him any more. When Don Geronimo taking Courage, I know, Madam, pursued he, that it is not for such a man as I, to dare to make his Queen his confident, and such a Queen as your Majesty; but I can only address myself to you, and the Passion I have for the Countess of Palomer, being such that I can no longer conceal it, I have hopes that it depending on you to render any one of the Court happy, you will consider the interests of a man who is willing to sacrifice himself for the endeavouring to render you less unfortunate. This Princess who did really tremble, and changed Colour twice or thrice, was ravished with joy, that this sigh was not addressed to her, so that she easily pardoned him the Liberty of his Confidence; and not being able to hold from laughing at the fear she had, she asked him, if the Countess knew the sentiments, he had for her: upon which this Lover answering, that respect had ever hindered him from declaring them to her, although he had been more than Six Years passionately in Love, she took upon her to acquaint her with them, and to serve him as much as she could. This so overjoyed the Amorous Don Geronimo, that casting himself at her Feet, he could not be thankful enough for so much goodness. The Queen made him rise, and told him, that he might repose in her the interests of his Heart, and that he should think of her Letter Affair which this Lover promised her, and went to labour that moment for the dispatching away secretly for Naples, a Brigantine of Twelve Oars of a side.  
Don Geronimo being retired, and the Countess coming to the Queen, was much surprised to find her laughing all alone, she made known to her the joy she had to see her in so good a Humour, and begged she would impart to her with the soon the Subject of it, that she might also laugh; this Princess told her, that she charged herself with a Commission to her, which she knew not if she should come of with Honour: but that it was so extraordinary, that though it was upon a very serious matter, she could not promise she should acquit herself of it in that Tone, and that in a word, if there happened any change in her misfortunes, she should be obliged for it to her Charms, for the Love of which the passionate Don Geronimo was obliged to serve her. The Countess blushed at the Queen's Raillery, remembering the boldness he had for to kiss her Hand, which had then made her suspect something; but she fell a laughing with the Princess and told her, that she had well foreseen that she should pay all the charges of that Embassy; that however, she should never have believed, that the Folly of a man of that Birth, who had been her Domestic: could have mounted to have considered her upon that Foot, and that now she saw that Fortune made People Blind. The Queen took the Lover's part, and the thing having been again turned into Raillery, she told her the fear she had been in herself: and begged of her at the same time she would manage the Spirit of this man, till that her business was done, which the Countess the more easily promised her, for that she prepared to divert herself with the passion of this Minister, as well as make use of it for the obtaining what they desired of him.  
King Charles had at that time, an Army before Catenzano, under the Command of the Count d' Artois, who besieged it by Sea and Land. Which King James of Arragon having learned he departed from Sicily with a powerful Fleet, for the releiveing that City with Five Hundred men at Arms, and de Loria his Admiral; but he found those of Charles, with the Majorquins in so good order before the Port of Catenzano, that he never durst attack them, nor attempt the Succours on that side. He fancied it would be more easy for him by Land: Wherefore having disembarqued his Catalonians, with de Loria, they advanced towards the Army of the Count d' Artois, who repulsed them as far as the Sea, constraining them to get with all haste into their Galleys. Which was the only time that that great Captain Roger de Loria was ever Conquered, Charles the Second received the Letter of the Queen of Majorca, his Daughter at the same time he did the news of this Victory; and the one raising in him as much pity as the other gave him joy, he resolved to send expressly an Ambassador to the King of Majorca, to make him his complaints. He made choice for that Embassy of Count Hannibal d' Aveline, as one who had not only the most Wit and Merit of any Lord of the Court, but was most capable of performing his Commission; and speaking with the requisite Tone to the King of Majorca. Wherefore he bid him prepare himself with the soon for this Voyage, and gave order at the same time, for the making ready Three Galleys, for the carrying him with all his Train, to the Isle of Majorca. He wrote Three Letters, one for this King, the other for the Queen, and the Third for Don Geronimo, which Count Hannibal had orders to deliver him in particular, and to testify to him how sensible the King was of the good Offices, he rendered to the Queen his Daughter.  
Hannibal was not so much Charmed with the Honour of this employ; because that the King thereby distinguished him from so many other Lords in that Court, as, because it gave him the opportunity of rendering an important service to a Princess, he had so passionately loved, and these hopes renewing a flame in his Heart, that neither absence nor any other reason had been yet able to extinguish, he used all manner of cares, diligence, measures, and precaution that his Deputation might succeed to the advantage and contentment of the Queen. Her Beauty returned into his mind with more force than ever, and more in Love than he had ever been with her Charms; all that he said and did, since the King had given him this Commission, was only for his fair Princess, till his arrival at Majorca, which was at six of the Clock in the Morning, with Three of the finest Galleys of Naples, having brought with him a Hundred Young Gentlemen, whom his merit as well as his magnificence and Liberality bound to his Person: He landed with this fine Train, which immediately drew all the People to see them disembarke, and they were so astonished at the richness of the habits as well as the good mien of the chief and of those of his Company, that the report run immediately through the City, that it was King Charles himself who came to see his Daughter. This news being presently carried to Belver, came to the Ears of the King of Majorca, who, not knowing what to think of it, sent incessantly Don Geronimo, to inform himself of the truth. The Queen, who had heard the report, as soon as the King, had an unspeakable joy: and having sent for the Countess of Palomer, they went together into her Cabinet, from whence they saw those Three Galleys. For Belver is upon a rising ground, which commands over all the City. They were in such delight, that their joy was heard by all the apartment. They were however in great pain as well as the King, to know who was come, not doubting but that it was some one that the King of Naples had sent in Consequence of their Letter, and they expected with great impatience, as well as the King, the return of Don Geronimo, to give them certain News: In the mean time they did not fail to Figure to themselves a Thousand things thereupon.  
This Minister being arrived at the City, in the time, that Count Hannibal was just landed, and having conducted him to the Town-Hall, through such a crowd of People, that they could hardly pass through the Streets, he had, after some Ceremonies of Civility, a particular discourse with him. The Count gave him the Letter that the King wrote to him, which he opened, and read the particular Testimonies that that Monarch gave him of his esteem and favour. From thence passing to the Affair in hand, Don Geronimo gave to the Count the necessary instructions upon the measures he was to take, and the manner he was to conduct himself, after which they both mounted into one of the King's Litters, to go to Belver, whether Don Geronimo had already sent a Gentleman to give notice to the King of the arrival of this Ambassador▪ This Prince received him with the most Curtezy and Honour, that his Humour, little proper for these public Ceremonies, could permit him. The Interview was very rare that was made in this Reception; where the King on one part dressed like a dull heavy Merchant, accompanied with Ten or Twelve Lords of his Court, who had no better meens, nor were better apparelled than himself, and on the other Count Hannibal, who was the handsomest Youth of all Italy, all sparkling with Gold and the Jewels he had about him, with that great number of Gentlemen, all extremely well dressed, with a Courtly Air, which Charmed, and at the same time astonished all those Majorquins. They made a noise in entering the Place, and especially the French, who made the greatest number, that one would have said they went to beseige this poor King; Count Hannibal after having made his Congee in the Chamber of Audience, where he expected him; spoke to him with a Grace and an Eloquence, that the Morose Soul of this Monarch was Charmed with the praises that he gave him, and became good natured in favour of him, and more mild; he embraced him Two or Three times with marks of kindness he had never shown to any one, so much power over the most obdurate Hearts, has a Person whom Nature has took delight in accomplishing.  
The first audience, which was about Ten of the Clock in the Morning, being passed in Compliments and Ceremonies; there was a particular one about Eight a Clock in the Evening, in which the Count declared to the King the Subject of his Embassy, in delivering him the Letter that the King his Master wrote to him; and by which he prayed him to consider that the Princess he had married, was the Daughter of a Monarch, not fit to be treated after the manner he did, that those were not the conditions of their alliance. That he very well know, that he had promised him to have that regard for her that was due to Daughters of her Rank: That she should live at Majorca, as she had lived at Naples, and that however the difference was so great, that having deprived her, upon her arriving at his Court, of all the Domestics he had himself given her, he had learned from good hands, that she had hardly People capable of serving her, and that she was kept shut up in her apartment, as a Criminal of State, or as if she were accused of some infamous crime; that this belonged more to a slave than a Queen, that he prayed him, not as a King; but as his Ally, Friend and Father-in-Law, that he would change his conduct, and treat his Daughter after a manner that all the Earth might not reproach him, with having so ill married a Princess, who merited, and who could have had a more happy Destiny, than that of being his Wife.  
The King of Majorca well saw, that King Charles his Father-in-Law wrote to him, as a Prince, who had newly got a Famous Victory: and who begun to have no more need of him. He was of a more peaceable than Warlike Humour: and not being willing to draw upon himself the enmity of so powerful a Monarch, he endeavoured to excuse upon the custom of the Country, the conduct he had thitherto held with the Queen; but that, since it did not please the King his Father-in Law, he would to disabuse him of the false Relations that might have been made him, regulate himself as he should judge most convenient. And it was concluded, that very moment, with Count Hannibal, that the Queen should enjoy a modest Liberty, for to walk when she pleased within and without the Palace of Belver, when she thought fit: that of the Persons who should serve her, she might choose Six, over whom she should have an entire power: and that in fine the People who would see her, or who had Affairs with her, might approach her without any difficulty. All those Articles of Peace being thus concluded, the King would out of an excess of Civility; that the Count himself should carry the news of it to the Queen, whom he had not yet seen, and prayed him at the same time he would make his Peace with her. Hannibal promised him what he desired: and going to her apartment, where she expected him with the Countess of Palomer, he saluted her, but with a joy, and such motions of Love, fear and respect, that are difficult to be described: and I believe that it is all that a very passionate man can do to imagine them. The discontent of that Princess, had not at all lessened her Beauty; on the contrary they had added a certain languishing, which in the midst of so many Charms, had the most engaging effect imaginable. The amorous Ambassador lost at that sight all his senses to his very Speech; and had occasion for all the force of his Courage to uphold himself, his Countenance changed Colour Two or Three times, and not daring hardly to look again upon the Queen, since the first time he had seen her, he remained as , and without saying any thing, in so great a space of time, that that Princess knowing that no man had more wit than he, was much surprised at it. She had no Body near her but the Countess, and Hannibal was likewise alone, all the People of their Trains being retired on both sides out of respect. Insomuch that the Queen not seeing what could hinder the Count from making known to her what he had to say, in so fine a Subject for the showing his wit, was as much concerned as he, at the perplexities in which she saw him; and beginning to speak that he might recover himself, she told him, that she was extremely obliged to the King her Father, not only for the affection he shown her in such an occasion, but for that he had given this Commission to the man of all his Kingdom, she should have desired to have had it, if it had depended on her choice. This Princess good and generous as she was, believed, that she ought at least to acknowledge with words as obliging as those were, the Service that the Count had just done her: besides that, what she told him was perfectly according to her sentiments: but this Lover, who was Charmed enough with the pleasure of seeing her, without her needing to add out of so extraordinary a goodness favours which quite confounded him with Love, was upon the point of falling upon his knees, if she had not hindered him. It is a little too much, My Lord, said she to him smiling; and that Excess of Submission would not become a man of the Character you have here. I can never render you enough, Madam, replied the Count, who began to come to himself, all your due, for there is nothing submissive enough which belongs not to you. It is true, continued he, that I am sent hither as an Ambassador from the King of Naples, but it is when I am before the King of Majorca, and before you, Madam, I am but your Subject, a Title much more glorious for me, than all those that the greatest Kings of the Earth can give me, and which does not dispense me from any respect near you. But after what manner soever you should consider me, Madam, added he, whether as the Ambassador of the King your Father, or as your Subject, you may order me all that you please; for I am sent only to this Court to obey you, and to have what rendered to you, that is your due. The King of Majorca is going to change his conduct in what concerns you, or at least he has promised me to do it: That if he fails in it, and that with all the Honour and respect they own you, he gives you not the Liberty you desire, I have order to tell him, that you belong to a Monarch extremely jealous of his Glory: and whose resentment for the injury shall be done you, will proceed much farther, than if it were done to his own person. He still enlarged more at length upon the particular orders he had received from the King; and which concerned the Queen, but with terms so strong and passionate, that she was extremely touched with acknowledgement, and could not hinder herself from showing it him by a Thousand goodnesses, of which the most important for the amorous Hannibal, was that of her picture, which she gave him. Never Lover loaded with Honour and Grace, felt so much joy as the Count did at that present. The least favour from the Hand of that Charming Princess, would have been more considerable to him than all the Riches of the World: and it is credible, that that of a Picture, for which he would have given a Thousand Lives, was something very Charming to him.  
The Queen passing to the News that she would know of the Court of Naples, and the Count having satisfied her in all that she desired, she believed, it was not yet convenient to lay hold of the new Articles of Peace, between her and the King; and made it a small Subject of raillery with the Count; after which this Lover taking leave of the Queen retired to his apartment, where he passed the most pleasant Hours that a happy Lover had ever had.  
The Queen, since her being in that Court, having seen none but such People as raised her pity, and having had an esteem of a long time for the Count, could not hinder herself in seeing him from showing the joy she had of his arrival, and even to seel something more strong, that those motions finding him better made, as seemed to her, than she had ever seen him; and afterwards passing over in her mind part of the things, he had told her, she found in his air and manner of expression, something so Witty and so Gallant that she sighed, in making reflection on all she had quitted. The truth is, the Count had a great part in that sigh, but the Hour was not yet come, that this mystery which did but appear in her should be discovered: Her Heart which she had since that Evening filled with a Thousand different things, caused her desires to float diversely, sometimes upon one Subject, sometimes upon another: but that which most possessed her, was the silence and the disorder into which the Count immediately fell in seeing her, and this Seconded by certain looks and a passionate action, that she had observed in him; and which exceeded the ardour of an ordinary Subject, seemed to learn her a secret, of which she had had formerly a great deal of Suspicion. In the favourable disposition she then was, this thought musts needs give her at first a great deal of pleasure, but certain returns on the side of Glory; coming to destroy in one moment all these Amorous Fancies, she reproached herself with the very weakness of thinking of them. In the mean time notwithstanding, all these glorious Reflections, the mind taking the party of the Heart, as it usually happens, she fell into it incessantly, and passed one part of the Night in disquiets. Not that she disinherited herself, and that she did not believe she had Empire enough over her Heart, to hinder, from entering therein any thing that might be called passion; but it was, that she feared, that the esteem, perhaps a little too great, that she had for a Gentleman so well made and so dangerous, might not insensibly engage her to treat him more favourably than she ought, if it was true, what she imagined, that he had Sentiments so little respectuous for her, and that this might not give him at the same time an occasion of flattering himself. And in this thought she did, all that she could, to irritate herself against him; but she found so little reason to do it, that that even betrayed her, and engaged her whether she would or not to justify him.  
The Count passed the Night much more agreeably. He had a long time made it his happiness to love that Charming Princess without telling it her, and without hoping any thing; and then Swimming in a sort of languishing full of joy, he represented to himself with what Grace she had received, with what kindness and goodness she had spoke to him; but above all that Divine Picture she had given him in so obliging a manner, and which he incessantly kissed, as being the Crown of his happiness, the Night lasted but little in that manner, although he passed it without sleeping; and Don Geronimo, who had not yet made him a visit, coming to see him in the Morning, was received by him with that kindness that was recommended to him by King Charles his Master, and which the services merited he had rendered to the Queen his Daughter, and the truth is, the Ambassadors Soul was then so satisfied, that he would have been pleasing to his very Enemies; They then contracted a very great Friendship, and as those of Court are usually founded upon some interest, that of Love was principally what engaged them: the Count because that he saw, that the Friendship of a Man as Don Geronimo, who governed the Old King's mind, could not but be useful to him; and the other, because that he judged, that it would be to make his Court to the Queen, the being united in Friendship with the Ambassador, and to have at the same time a pretext of the oftener seeing the Countess. There was presently the best understanding between them possible, they were almost ever seen together, especially when they were to go to the Queen; which the Count affected for the giving the less Ombrage to the King, with whom Don Geronimo made it likewise a merit, that he ever accompanied the Ambassador in these occasions, rendering afterwards an account of what passed in those visits, such as he judged convenient, for the entertaining him in the confidence he had of him. But at the length this Minister of State, who was a clear sighted man, remarquing a great Change in the Countess' mind, as well as in her manner of treating him; and that the Society he had made with that Ambassador, had been more disadvantageous than useful to him, especially since some days, that the Queen, more retired, showed herself less than usually, the Countess then passing whole Afternoons in entertaining herself with the Count, without deigning once to cast her Eyes upon him. Don Geronimo, I say, vexed to the very bottom of his Soul, to be thus treated, and weary with acting the part he did, resolved to Troop a part and render his visits in particular, for to see if it was out of modesty before that Ambassador, or because there was no more occasion for him, that he was looked upon with that indifference. He feared that they had really changed their Sentiments for him, and that he had been the Instrument of his own misfortune: but the thing required some light, before he came to Complaints; and his design was not difficult to be Executed. He took the pretext of an Affair of importance, as it happened to him often enough to pray the Count to excuse him, if he d● not accompany him that day to th● Queens; His excuse was very kindly received, for that Ambassador who had also his reasons to quit his Company, was i● pain to find the means to be civilly rid ●… him. The Countess of Palomer, whom h● considered as the Queen's Heart and Council, and of whom he had demanded the reason why that Princess was become s● solitary, since some days that she could no● be seen, had told him, that Don Geronimo was the cause; but the truth was, that it was she that was weary of him, and who would have been glad to have entertained the Count without such a Witness, who observed her least actions. In the mean time the Ambassador was extremely concerned he had no sooner known what the Countess told him; gave her many thanks for her advice, and promised her to make use of it. But what the Queen feared, was not the sight of Don Geronimo, the Countess had spoke for her: and that Princess on the contrary very much approved therein the Count's Conduct. What she shunned and rendered her solitary, was the sight of that Lover: But retreat and solitude are ill remedies against Love. The violence she used upon herself that she might not go and see him when she knew he was in her Antichamber with the Countess, more augmented her ardour than a discourse of several Hours. In sine she knew not what to do, nor what to say, and she saw that her Heart became daily more weak against so Charming a Passion: if any thing was capable of fortifying it, it was what the Countess told her, at the return from the discourses she had had with the Count; for the Queen ever very passionate and very curious to know what he had said to her, did not fail to send for her as soon as that Lover had quitted her, and to demand upon what he had entertained her. The Countess, who considered this Ambassador as a Conquest already made, needed not to be much pressed, to brag of it to the Queen, and with the air of a Woman something vain, and who would make herself believed she told that Princess, that his discourse was always of Gallantry, attended with sighs and passionate looks, which escaped from the Count, who was ever commending her Beauty. The Queen told her, to undeceive her, that all this was very usual at the Court of Naples, where all the Young Lords thought it the Devoir of a Gallant man, when they were with any Lady to say to her kind things, and tha● it was very dangerous to trust in them The truth is, that the Count, judging tha● the Countess' Friendship, who had all manner of Power with the Queen, was absoluetly necessary to him, had neglected no thing that might get him into her favour and that, as he was extremely amorous, Courtship and kindness cost him nothing, and he had been more persuasive to that Lady than he desired: because that she would really be persuaded that he loved her. In the mean time the Queen, whom she had Twice or Thrice acquainted with the same thing, not knowing what to believe of it, and incessantly attacked with a Thousand different thoughts, resolved to have an Eclaircissment, there being nothing more capable of curing her of that passion, than the truth, of what the Countess told her. She was thus disposed, when her Lady of Honour came to tell her, that Count Hannibal asked to speak with her. It was what she desired, however notwithstanding, the Resolution that she had taken, she balanced, and would not have yet been strong enough to have Executed her design, if the desire she had to see him, had not made way for her to resolve of it. Whereof she bid the Countess bring him in. I come, Madam, said the Count as he entered, to ask you a Thousand Pardons for my imprudence, in not having judged, that it was too great a Grace you did in granting me the Honour of seeing you sometimes, without charging myself with the Company of a man as Don Geronimo, who might be to you in the end troublesome and incommode. I know not, answered the Queen very much astonished at this discourse, who has so ill informed you of my Sentiments; but far from having disapproved your Conduct therein, I found it very reasonable. Don Geronimo, added she, is a man to whom I have Obligations, I cannot enough acknowledge, I am acquainted with his merit and probity. And he shall not only be kindly received when he comes in your Company; but I declare to you, that I shall never more willingly see you, than when he is with you. Don Geronimo, Madam, replied the Count, is much more happy than I imagined, and I shall for the future better know how to judge of the Sentiments you have for People, than to attribute to them the cause of the unhappiness, which deprives me of the Honour of seeing you, without which I should have nothing more to do here. Let us let Don Geronimo alone, replied the Queen, not being willing to enter into this discourse; and tell me from whence it proceeds, that having related to me the particular Affairs of the Court of Naples, and the adventures of several Lords, you have told me nothing of your own. Do you keep them for the Last? Or do you believe that there is too much vanity to acquaint with them yourself, without that I desire it. I believe Madam, answered the Count, I have forgot nothing of all the Gallantry that passed in that Court, since your leaving it, for as to what concerns me, I can assure, that there has been nothing in all that time which merits your Curiosity; and that in all my Life, I never passed my time with so much trouble and ill Humour. How is it possible, replied the Queen, that that amorous Star which rules over that Court should have no Influence upon you. This is so true, Madam, replied the Caunt, that what inclination soever I have formerly had for pleasures, I was never seen at them but when an indispensible devoir called me to them, or when the Service of the King my Master was concerned, or that I was to give him an account of the orders he had been pleased to give me; except in those Cases I was ever at my Country House, it being most suitable to the Humour I then was in, and where I had resolved to pass the rest of Life. The Change is great, said the Quen to him; who easily comprehended that that solitary Life regarded her, and we should not be much in pain to be persuaded, that it is the effect of some unhappy Destiny; But however, if People are to be believed who observe you, you have not the air of an indifferent man, and whether it is that you have found more Charms in this Court, than in that of Naples, you are not seen to seek Solitude so much. The Count, blushing at these words, could not hinder sighing, which being presently observed by the Queen, you sigh, my Lord, said she, Ah! you are in Love, and you shall acquaint me with the Cause of that sigh, or I shall be no longer your Friend. If I have any favour to demand of you, Madam, answered the Count with a trembling and passionate voice, it is, not to oblige me to tell you a thing, that I should rather die than declare to whomsoever it was. This Charming Princess being in a greater fear than he, that he should explain himself too clearly, was not willing to press him any more: However as she was in pain to quit so soon, a matter, which so much pleased her, she could not stop there, and reviewing him with an air to force the secret from a Heart: but in fine, said she to him, you will at least confess to me, that this sad and pensive Humour has not always lasted in you, and that whether at Naples, or in this Country, you are in Love. It is true, I Love, Divine Princess, answered that Lover all Transported, and with the most extraordinary passion that ever one has loved. I have been in Love pursued he sighing, these Five Years, that is to say, from the moment I could know what Love was, and I have from that time felt all that can be imagined of most tender and ardent in a Heart: and at the same time all that there is of most submissive and fullest of respect in devoir. All this, Madam, without daring to tell it, and without hopes. The Queen, fearing that she could not answer this discourse without its costing her some weakness, considering the looks and passionate action with which that Lover accompanied it, would rid herself of it; and rising from whence she was, I pity you, said she, and went at the same time into a Balcony there was to her Chamber, for to hid the disorder, into which a Thousand different motions cast her which risen in her Soul. The Count followed to the Balcony Door, where stopping, he saw she said nothing more, and that she did not so much as look upon him. Wherefore after having been some time in that Posture and silence, he thought it was his duty to retire. But the Queen turning then towards him; What do you go away, said she to him, without having satisfied me upon what I desire: and shall I not know who that Beauty is for whom you have so long sighed. I have told you, Madam, answered that Lover, with a very submissive voice, that it would be less trouble to me to take away my Life, than this secret. And the only Grace I demand of you is to let it die with me. You put but little confidence in People, replied the Queen, and to let you see, I have more consideration for you, I not only consent you tell me nothing of it, but I even forbidden it you: and passing at the same time from the Balcony into her Cabinet, she left the Count in a terrible fright.  
Don Geronimo was then with the Countess. This Minister being desirous to know his Destiny with that Lady, came alone to the Queen's Antichamber, where he found her Pensive, but so profoundly that she hardly saw him enter. He approached her: and notwithstanding all he could say, he saw, she could hardly open her Mouth to make him an answer. Insomuch, that taking from thence an occasion of explaining himself, he told her, that he knew not if he had been unhappy enough to displease her in any thing; but that he had observed that of late, she had much diminished the esteem she had formerly had for him; and that she would oblige him extremely, and likewise draw him out of a very great pain, if she would be so kind as to acquaint him with the reason of it. The Countess, who immediately comprehended whither these Complaints tended, and not being willing to give this Minister a reason for them, knowing his dangerous Spirit, she answered him very obligingly, that as thitherto she had had all manner of reason to commend him, she had likewise for him the same consideration she had ever had, but that since some time, she had taken, but she could not tell at what, a certain sad and Melancholy Humour, which made several People complain of her as well as he, and that they who knew her aught rather to pity than blame her. Don Geronimo was not satisfied with this excuse: He knew, from whence her disease proceeded, or at least he very much suspected it; However without seeming to know any thing; he told her that Divertisement was the only remedy for such sort of ills; and proposed to her at the same time to go see the Water Works that were made in the Garden, and which were to be tried for the first time. The Countess, who had many other designs in her Head, told him, that she had something to do with the Queen, but that if he would in the mean time go alone, and hinder them from playing, they would presently follow him. Don Geronimo seeing, that the Lady would get rid of him, answered her that he would have the Honour of attending them: and that he well knew that there would be nothing done in the Garden till he came. But I must, replied the Countess, (in whose Eyes it was easy to see the Impatience she was in to send him away) see the Queen, and speak to her in particular. You may do it, Madam, replied this Lover, holding still sirme, while that I attend you. But cannot you, replied she, go wait for me in the Garden. Not without you tell me, (Don Geronimo answered coldly, beginning to lose his Patience) that I am troublesome here, for I should have more pleasure in accompanying you: thereupon the Countess, seeing the Count going from the Queens, and that he passed by without stopping, ran after him. This Minister, whose Heart was stabbed with that action, no longer doubting of the truth of his misfortune, approached her, and with Eyes that were inflamed by his jealousy, I see, Madam, said he softly to her, what you waited for, an other time I shall be more Complaisant. The Count surprised with seeing Don Geronimo go away in a rage, not knowing, if it was with him that he was angry, asked the Countess what that Minister had said to her, and from whence it came he retired in such a pet. The Lady, who would not have been willing that the Count should have known that Don Geronimo was in Love with her, was at first something perplexed; But her Wit which never failed her upon any occasion, furnishing her with an answer to her advantage, Do not you see, said she to him with a forced smile, that he is a faithful Minister, and that he takes part in all that concerns his Master? He saw you come alone from the Queens, with whom, you had passed an Hour in particular discourse, and you would not, that he should have Ombrage of it. You are too well made, and he would injure your merit, if he treated you with more softness. How, Madam, cried Hannibal, troubled at this News! Should I be so unhappy, that this man should have so criminal suspicions of me. Ah! Madam, added he upon the point of running after him, I must undeceive him as soon as possibly. Make not so much haste, answered she stopping him, for I have something to tell you of more importance than that. Permit me first, replied the Count, to speak with this Minister, and I will afterwards return to you. It will be a useless trouble, replied she, and instead of undeceiving him, you will by this eagerness but▪ the more confirm him in his Suspicions. I do not believe that, replied he, but in fine let what will happen I must needs speak to him; and I beg, Madam, you will let me go. After that the Countess could not detain him any longer, but it was not without a very sensible displeasure. That Nicety she saw in him in what concerned the Queen, and that earnestness to run after Don Geronimo, seemed, in giving her an extreme disquiet, to open her Eyes for the discovering to her all that she could imagine most cruel to her. What should it be possible! Said she in thinking of all this, that I should have been so long without perceiving this mystery: and that Chance should have thus discovered it. Am I mistaken! Or is it true that the Count is in Love with the Queen. Ah, Heavens! Added she in lifting up her Eyes, can you have prepared me so terrible a Blow. Her mind was almost overcome with these cruel thoughts, when the Queen came out of her Chamber, who told her, that she had a desire to go walk in the Garden, the Countess immediately endeavoured to recover herself, for fear that Princess should observe in her Face the disorder of her Heart; but the Queen herself was so possessed with her own thoughts, that she hardly looked upon the Countess. Wherefore they went towards the Garden, where the Queen being desirous to entertain herself all alone, left the Countess behind her with the rest of her Train. Don Geronimo who walked at the same time his thoughts or rather his furies in that same Garden, seeing the Queen, went directly to her, for to complain of the Countess' cruelty, he boarded her with a melancholy air; and told her his misfortune with so sad a Tone, that it would have made the Queen laugh, if she had took less part than she did in the Subject of his Complaints. She endeavoured however to undeceive him; Ah.! Madam, answered he, I am but too well persuaded, that in employing myself for your repose, I have only laboured to ruin my own: and that the arrival of this Ambassador undoes me, and that in delivering you from all your pains, he loads me with the most cruel torments that a Heart can suffer. I lived at least in some hopes, added he sighing, and if I was not beloved, I had no Rival. There are few People in this Kingdom who would have disputed with me that happiness; and am not I very unfortunate in having been myself the Instrument of my despair! The Queen, who did really take pity of this poor Lover, to whom she had very great Obligations, was not in much pain to assure him; that she was concerned at his misfortune, and that she would use all her power with the Count as well as with the Lady to hinder, that he might not be troubled in his designs. But a certain interest of Heart engaged her much more in it, she was very glad that this interest was authorized by so reasonable a pretext, as was that of favouring the pretensions of Don Geronimo, as she had promised him. She than told him for to comfort him, that he needed only to retire, and that she would go that very moment and speak to the Countess, who was come with her into the Garden. This Minister having thereupon quitted the Queen, she enquired of her Maids what was become of the Countess, whom she saw not: Who answered her, that they believed she was in the middle Arbour with the Ambassador of Naples, this Princess, who had already been much concerned with what Don Geronimo had told her, was so troubled to learn at the same time, that the Count was in particular Conference with her, that not being Mistress of herself, she would go see what they did in so retired a place as that.  
As we are extreme prone to flatter ourselves in things which please us, we likewise believe, as late as we can, those which are disadvantageous to us; and especially Women, in whom Vanity is a weakness they lay by the Last of all others: the mistaken Countess might have observed by all the actions of Count Hannibal, that his Heart inclined towards the Queen, but taking pleasure in blinding herself, and not being willing that other Qualities than her own should have made impression upon that Lover's Heart, she had persuaded herself that the devoir of an Ambassador bond him to that Princess, and that of a Lover to her, till the Affair of Don Geronimo, in which besides the earnestness he had been in to run after him; she had immediately observed a certain trouble in his Face, which had more of the Character of a passionate Lover than of an Ambassador zealous for the Queen's Interests. These thoughts which had accompanied her to the Garden, having conducted her into the Green-Arbour, after she had seen Don Geronimo board the Queen, entertained her in a profound pensiveness, when the Count, who still sought that Minister, passing by the Arbour, fancied that in seeing the Countess the Queen was there, and went in to Salute her, however finding only the Countess, who sitting upon a Grass seat, seemed by her languishing posture to have sought retreat, asked her Pardon for having interrupted her in her Solitude, and was going to retire. But she risen, and eyeing him with a Face mingled with vexation and Love, I very well see, My Lord, said she to him that it is not me you come to seek here. It is true. Madam, answered the Count, that I still seek for Don Geronimo: and perhaps the Queen, interrupted she, but whether the Queen or Don Geronimo, added she blushing, it would be neither obliging nor civil to find me alone, and to quit me again to run after a man. I must tell you, pursued she, that he is in conference with that Princess, and that you will lose nothing by being a moment with me. Hannibal yielding at the reproaches of the Countess, whom he had no mind to displease, prepared himself to entertain her; and the Countess, who had already made so many advances, continuing her design, Don Geronimo is not the only person that is jealous of your going alone to the Queens, and that you entertain her without witnesses: there are People who have observed your actions yet more nearly; and who, taking more interest than he in your sighs, have pushed their Penetration so far, that they fancy they have found out their course; and you will be more troubled to undeceive them than this Minister. The Count extremely surprised with the discourse of that Lady, who spoke to him very seriously, assured her, that he could hardly believe what she told him; because he did not think he had ever given the least ground for the like suspicions. I will not tell you, replied the Countess upon what they have particularly conjectured, that your Heart went towards the Queen: but there is perceived in you an air extremely amorous; sighs escape from you from time to time before People: you fall into languish and into absences of mind, and to the least of your actions all is so passionate in you, that one would really say you were in Love with all the World. In the mean time, as there is not in this Court many persons fair enough for a man so well made as you, they easily cast their conjectures upon those you see most often, who are the Queen and myself. The most common Opinion is, and with reason, that it is the Queen, but that Princess will have it me. She endeavours at least to persuade Don Geronimo so, who seems to take more interest in it than aught to be permitted to such a man as he. I explain myself no more, my Lord (pursued she) it is for you to draw such Consequences as you please; but it is to debase one's self very much, for a Queen to manage such a man to my cost. I will not, added she, pretend to an Honour that is not my due; wherefore I beg of you that in undeceiving Don Geronimo of the suspicions he has of you upon the account of that Princess, you would not let him know that it is to me you address your passion: for I am not at all of the Humour to take pleasure in being made use of for a Pretexte. The Count, much perplexed at this discourse, fell into the snare that the Countess laid for him; and as if he was awaked from a long sleep. Can it be possible, said he sighing, that this Minister durst lift his Eyes upon the Queen, and that this Princess— no, continued he, after a moment of reflection, this cannot be: I know, pursued he with some transport, the Queen's Heart, and though the insolence of such a man as he should have mounted to that point he— But, my Lord, (interrupted the Countess, whom that discourse assassinated) Is it against me that you ought to dispute this? and do I ask you If it is true, that D●n Geronimo is in Love with the Queen or no? It is of you, pursued she, the discourse was of, and I interess myself in it more than ordinary, I shall not oppose all that can be said, if you love me as they say you do, the passion of such a man as you, has ever wherewith to flatter the Vanity of a Woman, not to be displeased at the report of it; but if it is the Queen you Love, as I do not at all doubt, your Generosity is concerned not to suffer me to be played upon.  
She was come to that, and the Count who fell from perplexity to perplexity, knew not what to answer, when the Queen entering the Arbour so surprised the Countess, that not knowing how to hid the disorder the Count's silence had cast her in, as well as the presence of that Princess, she chose to retire. The Queen something surprised to see her go away in that manner, would have called her, but in the Agitation and trouble she came, she found herself so weak at her entrance, that she had not the power to open her mouth. The Count, who saw her so pale and changed, run immediately to her, and with a tenderness full of alarm, he asked her, if she found herself ill, and if she desired, he would call any of her Maids. No, answered she him, in sighing with a languishing air: But from whence comes it that the Countess goes away? I know not, Madam, answered the Count in a manner something perplexed. You know not, replied the Princess; I believe however you can tell me the reason if you will, but I begin, added she, to know the little reliance there is to be had upon you, by the little Confidence you have in me, Alas! with what do you reproach me, Madam, cried that Lover? and how little you Penetrate how far goes— he stopped there sighing, and on a sudden renewing the discourse with something more heat, if my Life was concerned, Madam, added he, I should not hesitate one moment the telling you all there is in my Heart. Why then, replied she, do you refuse me the part I demand in your Confidence? You know, Madam, answered the Count what you forbidden me? Yes, but I no longer forbid it you, replied she, how should I know what you would think? For if it is what they would make me believe, it would seem that in leaving you in this silence one should authorise your temerity: No, Count, pursued she, with a more pressing manner than ever, you shall tell me, I Command it you, if your Heart does not accuse you of any thing against me: if the sentiments you have for me are as full of respect, as I could desire them of you. You are troubled, Count, continued she still, seeing the disorder into which she put him; and your Face does but too much declare that you are Guilty. Do not rely upon my goodness, I have a consideration for you, because you have some merit; but I am to maintain my Glory; a small thing would wound it, and you would less deserve favour than any one soever, if you were fallen into such a misfortune. The amorous Hannibal, with a Countenance sad and full of respect, though ever very passionate, I have failed, Madam, I confess it, said he to her sighing, without being able to say any thing more: at which that lovely Princess extremely touched, began to represent to him with a great deal of softness, that she was neither of a Rank nor in a State to suffer that any other than the King her Husband should have such sentiments for her; and that if he was reasonable, he would do himself justice in that point, and not suffer himself to be hurried away by a blind passion and without hopes. That he very well knew that it was to lose his respect to her, and that since she had perceived it, what she owed to herself would oblige her, not only to forbid him her presence, but also to cause him to be recalled by the King her Father, if the hopes she had of reducing him to his devoir, did not make her treat him with a little more goodness: that this merited, that he should make some reflection upon it, and that he would seriously labour to cure his mind of a blindness, which could not fail in the end of being his ruin. I know, Madam, answered that Lover, who began to take Courage, that I have merited Death, I shall not refuse it at any time you shall be pleased to order it me, but for loving you nothing can hinder me as long as I live. I might not tell it you, as I did not during the space of Five Years, that I have loved you with a passion the most tender and fullest of respect that ever one loved with, I might likewise not see you, that neither my Eyes nor sighs should speak; but I should not however have failed of having always for you the same ardour, and it does not depend on me to get rid of it. I have told myself, all that can be said in that case. I have set before my Eyes greater unhappinesses than all those you can ever threaten me with: and all this, Madam, has but the more irritated my passion. All the reasons contrary to this inclination, and even to your very hatred, which would be to me the most redoubtable thing in the World, have never been able to persuade me, that you were not the most lovely Princess under the Heavens, and that I ought to love you to the very Grave. I saw it was without hopes, pursued he, seeing that the Queen let him speak, I durst not even flatter myself, that you could ever know any thing of it, and yet I could not hinder the abandoning myself to it, as if I were to have been the most happy of all Lovers. The Queen who had thitherto suffered herself to be lulled with the pleasure of hearing him, recovering from so charming an Error, was something ashamed of her weakness and blushed. Whereupon recalling all the efforts that modesty and devoir could make upon her, and taking an air more severe than the softness of her Nature, and than even the tenderness of her Heart could well permit her, You only seek then to irritate me against you, and what advice soever I can give you, you will despise it, and you fear not my anger. I fear all from you, Madam, answered he with a transported voice, but what I ought most to sear in you is your fair Eyes. And would to God, added he sighing, that I had ever seen you in anger and full of disdain and contempt for me. This wish so little usual, and the action with which that Lover pronounced these words appeared something so rare to the Queen, that notwithstanding all her affected seriousness, she could hardly hold from laughing, and not being willing to pursue a discourse, from which she saw she should not come of on her side with that haughtiness that what the Count told her merited, she risen, and without looking upon him, I have nothing else to say to you, said she to him, without it be that you make use of the advice I have given you, for you may very well judge, pursued she in going out of that Arbour, that I can no longer see you with modesty and without doing an injury to my Glory, if you still continue in the same Sentiments. Wherefore change them, added she, if you would have me live with you as I have hitherto done. You must then, Madam learn me how to hate you. For to hate me, No, replied the Queen, but there is a Temperament between both that I could pardon in you. Ah! Madam, replied this Lover, how difficult is that Temperament to keep with such a Person as you. I believe, pursued he, that if it was possible not to Love you with that Excess that I Love you, I should hate you more than ever any one was hated: The Queen fell a smiling and viewing him, I must then be extremely hated in the World. For I assure myself there are few People in the World that are bold enough to Love me as you say. If all the Earth knew you as well as I do, Madam, replied immediately the Count with a Tone full of Ardour, all the Earth would adore you, or hate you, as the most dangerous Princess in the World, who after having forced Hearts to die for Love of you, taketh delight in making them die of despair. The Queen looking upon him with a great deal of Complaisance, cruelty said she is not my Vice, but I know what I own myself, and who go against that, added she a little more seriously, may assure themselves of not being very happy. They were then come to her apartment, where the King being entered, the Count retired little satisfied with these last words, but likewise less unhappy than he could have hoped after such a declaration.  
The Countess, who had passed all that time in her Chamber, in examining in her mind, all the Count's words and actions, found to the least stroke in that Lover, that she had been unluckily mistaken, and that the Queen's Charms possessed him absolutely. Cruel discoveries when they come so late; she had no hopes but the Princess' kindness, who making perhaps some difficulty to Embark herself in an engagement of Heart which would ruin her, would be in no pain to make her that Sacrifice. Wherefore she resolved without waiting any longer, to speak to her of it, to open to her entirely her Heart, that she might the more easily move her by her pains. She came to her at the same time the Count left her, and casting herself immediately upon her knees, with a Torrent of Tears, that she shed, she was some time without being able to express a Word: At which the Queen much astonished and concerned, asked her several times what it was so much afflicted her. Alas! what it is, Madam, answered she with a profound sigh. I am the most unhappy creature under the Heavens: I see my Death caused by the Person of the World I Love the most. Yes my Queen, pursued she, in recovering herself a little, it is a secret I have hitherto concealed from you, but for which I am very cruelly punished, not to have occasion to draw still upon me your reproaches. I have suffered myself to be surprised by the Courtship of the Count d' Aveline, I took for myself the sighs I saw him make, and I fancied he spoke to me, when he only thought of you. Of me, interrupted the Queen. Yes, Madam, pursued the Countess, it is you that take him from me, and that which is most cruel to me is that it is you, whom I cannot hate, who are the cause of all my ills. The Queen, having asked her upon what she founded these suspicions, Alas! Would to God, answered she lamentably, that I could doubt of it, but I am but too well convinced; my hopes, Madam, is now only in you, and if you allow the sighs of that Lover, I have only Death to deliver me from all my pains. In finishing these last Words her Tears trickled down in greater abundance than ever: The Queen, who had the tenderest Soul of the World, was so touched to see her in that state, that she wished, in that moment, she had never seen the Count, and was some time without being able to say any thing to her, being assailed by a Thousand different motions, which were at length followed by some Tears, which she could not hinder herself from shedding, whether it was from the Effort she made upon herself, for the resisting the Sentiments of her Heart, or from the pity she had of those of the Countess, I cannot, said she to her, hinder my being beloved, if I am beloved against my will; but all that can be done in that I will do it, and you shall be witness of it to Morrow. While that this Conversation passed in the Queen's Cabinet, there was one much more extraordinary in Count Hannibal's Chamber, Don Geronimo, who had learned that that Ambassador had a long time sought for him, would make use of that pretext to go know what he desired of him, and to acquaint himself at the same time with his Sentiments upon the inclination of his Heart, for having well examined him, he did not find, whether it was dissimulation or a real indifference, that he perfectly answered the eagerness of the Countess. And for the better acting his part he resolved to feign he was in Love with the Queen, hoping that the Count would open himself yet the more freely to him: Insomuch that being come to his apartment, seeing that the Ambassador did not speak to him of any thing, and that he was possessed with a Melancholy, that rendered to him Conversation troublesome and incommode; I perceive, my Lord, said he to him, that I have ill taken my time, for the rendering you a Visit; but being told that you sought for me, I fancied I could not be dispensed from coming to ask you, what you desired of a man who is entirely yours. The Count Civilly thanked him; and continuing in his sad Humour, he answered him coldly, that it was nothing, and that he had been only told, that he observed his steps, of which he was willing to have known the reason; but that he no longer cared for it. He spoke to him with this indifference for the better undeceiving him. As you are here, my Lord, independent of whom soever, and that you are not to give an account of your actions to any one, neither is there any one that would concern themselves with examining them; but you cannot hinder that when one has Pretensions in a place, they fear to have a Concurrent made like you. Not that, added he, that I have hitherto had wherewith perfectly to Ground my judgements: You are seen to go in several places; you have assiduities for several persons, and perhaps, if one could know the party your Heart takes, one should be at ease and endeavour to serve you in it. The Count who knew he had to do with a Cunning Politician, was upon his Guard, but as he hazarded nothing in acting the Countess' Lover, and that it would be on the contrary a means for the entering into his confidence, if it was true as they would make him believe, that he was in Love with the Queen, he confessed to him in a confiding way, that being to pass some days in the Court of Majorca, he had thought necessary for the divertisement of a man of his Humour, to have an Amusement of Heart, and that he had cast his Eyes upon the Countess, but that, if he had the ●ust design there, he was ready to aband 〈◊〉 her entirely to him; not pretending to ●ake an engagement of Consequence in a ●lace, where he was to stay so little a ●ime. Don Geronimo felt to the very bottom of his Heart the cruel grief of that declaration, and composing his Face the best he could, he told him, with a joy he was not a little troubled to feign, that he learned with an extreme pleasure the Course of his Heart; that he should have had the same defference in his regard, if he had been so unfortunate as to have had the same Inclinations with him, but that, since their vows had different Objects, they might without trouble each on his side render their amorous devoirs; that he promised him not to disturb him in his, and that he hoped the same favour from him: and thereupon quitted him, searing, that in the violence he used upon himself, he could no longer maintain that part. The Count had yielded to him wish too much Facility the interests he had in the Countess, for to believe it was in earnest: it is not so easy to lay by that passion, provided one is really engaged in it, and this generous proceedure of his Rival appeared to him too full of Art, for to be persuaded that it was sincere: Insomuch that he would return him the same Compliment, and went from him with all the rage of a Lover Transported with jealousies. The Queen, who had promised the Countess to contribute as much as she could to her repose, no sooner saw herself rid of her, than that her Heart complaining that she had so little consulted it in the most important Affair of her Life, had like by many sighs and regrets to have overturned all that pity had exacted in the Countess' favour, for it is rarely we betray ourselves, and less in Love than in any other thing: But Glory maintaining the first Party, seconded with a Thousand reasons of the Consequences and the future, again balanced the Sentiments of her Soul, and so well confirmed her in her first design as the most becoming her, that she did nothing all the rest of the Day and all the Night than seek reasons for the fortifying herself against the weakness of her Heart. She was almost in this disposition when the Countess, with whom she had regulated the measures she would take, for the yielding to her entirely the Count, came to give her notice that that Lover was just a coming. The Queen made her lied herself in her Cabinet, and having given orders to a Page to bring in the Ambassador of Naples when he should come, she prepared herself for an engagement, in which the trembling which had took her, since her Lady of Honour had spoke to her of the Count, made her fear she should not come of with that case as she had promised herself. Hannibal appeared with a Face sad and melancholy, and which still seemed sensible of the words, with which the Princess had left him the day before. She could not see him without being concerned; and as if she had forgot the cruel design she had against him, she asked him in a Charming manner, from whence proceeded the sadness she saw upon his Face. A Man, Madam, answered he, so unfortunate as I am, cannot bear a Gay look. But unfortunate, replied the Queen, those are not to be pitied, who will be so: It is true, Madam, answered that Lover, that I should not be pitied to Love the most insensible Princess of the Earth, for it is a long time since I prepared myself for it; But I am— added he sighing, and stopped there. Whereupon the Queen, who would not be more curious, than was necessary in that occasion, without pressing him to make an end, must you not confess, said she to him, that you have lost your reason in applying yourself to an object, where not only you have no hopes; but where you are even forbidden to pretend to any, and which is capable of ruining you with those, whom duty obliges you to consider more than all things. Ah! Madam, cried the amorous Count softly, those are not my greatest misfortunes: And would to God, added he, something raising his voice, that at the expense of that reason, that you say, Madam, I have lost, I had only your insensibility to fear or the ruin of my Fortune. Believe me, Count, interrupted that Princess, whose Heart was touched with all he said, follow an advice that I will give you as a true Friend, lay by a passion as extravagant as useless, and turn your thoughts towards an Object, who shall be of a Rank and in Right of acknowledging them. The Countess of Palomer— at that Name Hannibal, retired two steps, and would have interrupted the Queen, but she making a sign to him to let her pursue, continued in this manner, she is of one of the most illustrious Families of Europe, she is a Lady who has Beauty and Wit to surpass all Women I have ever seen; and if I was a Man, none could please me so much as she, see her, offer her that tenderness and Heart, of which she can make a better use than I, and you will certainly be happy. I, Madam, answered the Count, who had heard very impatiently that cruel Proposition to the end, could I ever Love any one after you, when I should be capable of ceasing to Love you. Ah! Madam, continued he sighing, know me better, all the misfortunes of the Earth should sooner fall upon me than I would once think of it: It is however the only means, replied the Queen, to live well with me. I beg it of you, and if that be not enough I Command you, as much as I can have power over you. I shall reckon for myself the cares and the Paces you shall employ for her, and as much as your former sighs may have given me pain, so much this little Sacrifice that you shall make to my Glory, will give me joy. If I am not, Madam, replied sadly the desolate Count, to merit your favour but by that: if I cannot, pursued he sighing, please you but by quitting you for another, I am to be the most unhappy of all men, and am going to draw upon myself your hatred for all the rest of my days. For it is impossible for me to obey you therein; Or for me, Count, replied immediately the Queen rising, to see you any more: think of it better, added she, for the virtue of a Princess as I am, would suffer by it too much, after the Liberty you have taken, Ah, Cruel Princess, cried then the unfortunate Hannibal in a Transported manner, how can an Innocent Love as mine be contrary to your Glory, it having neither desires nor hopes, why add you to the Cruelty of not suffering that I Love you, the injustice of making me Love against my will, what I can never Love. The Queen not being willing to push any farther a Conversation which was as sensible for her, as it was Cruel for that Lover. It is enough, said she to him; defferences that one has for what one Loves, are the secret marks of a true Love, and I shall know yours by the Obedience you shall show me in what I desire of you. Love does not destroy itself, Madam, answered the Count, but I see what it is, and what you desire of me. It is my Death: I shall not be put to much trouble to satisfy you therein. In finishing these words he quitted the Queen with so disordered a look, that that Princess really fearing some terrible effect from his despair, sent a Page to recall him and letting herself fall languishing upon her Bed, near which she was seated; Ah, Heavens! Cried she to what Combats do you deliver me, when the Countess coming out of the Cabinet where she had been hid, cast herself upon her Knees with Eyes all filled with Tears: Too generous Princess, said she to her, how can I acknowledge so much goodness? You maintain the designs of a Creature, who merits rather your hatred than your favour: and for her sake you bring into despair a man who adores you. She would have continued speaking, but the Page the Queen had sent after the Count, reentring, told her, that the Ambassador of Naples was coming back: Insomuch that the Countess, who would not have been willing he should have seen her in the State she was, returned immediately into the Cabinet, where being entered, the Count arrived, who saw it shut with much Precipitation. His surprise was great: for he had not believed there had been any one with the Queen; and his jealousy, which, after the last Conversation he had had with Don Geronimo, was yet augmented by the Order or the Counsel, that that Princess had just given him, of ceasing to Love her, for to give himself to the Countess of Palomer, increased more than ever, with seeing that Door shut, he believed it was some one who ought to be suspected to him, and to whom the Queen had had a mind to Sacrifice him. That Princess who got up in seeing him enter, observing, that he had his Eyes towards that Cabinet, and that he considered it with the attention of a man, who ruminated something in his mind, immediately fancied he had seen the Countess, and that he suspected the Trick that had been played him. She would see, what he would say of it; But as he was still in a profound pensivenss, you are surprised, said she to him ready to Laugh, though she was but little difposed to it, at the Ambuscade that has been laid you. It is true: Madam, answered that Lover, that I should never have imagined, that you would have had such a Conversation as we have had for the savouring another: I know not, at least, continued he, by what I have merited this deceit. Do you call deceit, (replied the Queen still Laughing, who really believed he meant the Countess,) an Innocent design one has of serving the Person one Loves. But the Count who at first cast his suspicions upon Don Geronimo, whom he fancied to be concealed in that Cabinet, was overcome with grief at that Confession, after which he could no longer doubt of his misfortune, and changing Colour Two or Three times, before he could answer her; No, Madam, said he to her, viewing her with Eyes fuller of vexation than Love, I shall give what name you please to the most cruel injury that can be done a man: but the Triumph was already great enough, without calling me back for the pushing it farther; and take it not ill, Madam, if I no longer serve for a Victimeto aman so little worthy of one of my kind. Thereupon making a Low Bow to the Queen, he went out of the Chamber with a Heart as full of rage, as it had before been seized with grief, leaving the Queen much in pain, to divine what man he meant, and what obliged him to retire in that manner, without ever being able to divine the true Subject. The Countess, who was come out of that Cabinet, and who had not failed to penetrate into the Count's jealousy, having been the first who inspired him with it, might have easily drawn the Queen from the perplexity she was in, but she would not reveal to her a secret, from which she hoped to draw some advantage. The greatest Friendship of Women is not proof against Treachery when it is Love that inspires it. It has always more appearance than reality. It is not to be relied upon, the least interest of Heart stifles it, or makes it serve its designs. The Queen after having entertained herself some time with the Countess, finding her Heart in need of a little solitude, took the pretext, to rid herself of her, that she was not well, and that she desired to take some repose. These two fair Lovers had their pains and their cares, it is true, that the Queen was beloved, and that this point in Love is capable of solacing a great many ills, but Glory and Devoir which she had incessantly before her Eyes for the Combating an Inclination which forced her away, and besides all this the Cruelty of causing all the unhappiness of a man, whose Felicity she would have procured; to feign not to Love him; and not to be willing to be beloved, when that she really found that all her tenderness was for him, and that she was Charmed with his, and in fine to be condemned to persuade him by all manner of reasons to Love another, which perhaps would have made her desperate: all this, I say, made appear that the Destiny contrary to the repose of great Souls, had taken pleasure to produce Capricious and opposite motions in the Heart of that Lovely Princess. The unfortunate Countess passed her time no more agreeably than she, if she felt not all those stinging pains which Devoir and Glory occasion, in opposing the passion of a Heart, she had likewise only her revenge to solace her in the rage of seeing herself contemned. She waited with great impatience all the rest of the Day, to see the Count again, for the quite confounding him upon the Subject of Don Geronimo, but he appeared not at Court, and she easily comprehended what was the occasion of his retreat. She was no sooner up the day after, than that she sent to tell him, that she had something of great importance to acquaint him with, and that if he would take the time that the King and Queen were at Dinner, he would find her in her Chamber. Hannibal, who since the Queen had proposed to him to Love the Countess, had took an Aversion for that Lady, whom he considered, as one does a Mortal Enemy, would hardly have gone to the assignation she made him, if in the despair he was, the Curiosity of knowing, if it was not something from the Queen she had to tell him, had not overcome that aversion. He went to her at the Hour appointed; but with a Face so sad and changed, that it surprised the Countess. I take pity, my Lord, said she to him, of the pains you suffer for my sake, and which only put me into Confusion. I know not, pursued she, what the Queen's design is, but she might have spared herself and you to so great a perplexety. If you were to Love me, it is not to her that I would have the Obligation of your Heart: it is an ill augure to receive that of a Man from the hand of a Woman. It must give itself, my Lord, added she, use not constraint upon yourself for that: I made known to the Queen Yesterday, that I was not obliged to her for all these cares, as it is not to do me a kindness she takes so much trouble, but for the Love of a man, who came to make a Triumph to me of the Sacrifice she had made him of your passion; It is from Don Geronimo, at least that I know all that I here tell you. He related to me to the very lest particulars of the Conversation you had with the Queen, which he heard in the Cabinet he was concealed. The Count found his grief terribly renewed at this recital; but that which gave him most pain was the Vanity of his Rival, who thus triumphed over his misfortune: Wherefore he could not hold from complaining, likewise seeing, that it would be useless any longer to conceal his passion to a Lady who knew too much of it, but it was still without ever losing the respect he owed the Queen, complaining more of his Destiny than of the unjust Preference of that Princess, who despised him for such a man as Don Geronimo. The Countess, who would have been glad he had pushed his resentment farther, forgot nothing that might heighten the injury that was done him, sometimes excusing the Queen upon the acknowledgement she owed that Minister, for the services she had received from him, and which might have touched her Heart. This last stroke made that sad Lover quite desperate who saw some reason in what was told him; but nothing however that could oblige him to rail against that Princess. There never escaped from him one word, which was not in all the submission of a Lover full of respect: On the contrary the more reason he had to complain of her, the more he made appear his tenderness, resolving, notwithstanding so much contempt and so many Cruelties, to Love her till Death. The Countess, in whose Heart all these Sentiments were so many stabs, suffering pains which only a Jealous and Passionate Woman can imagine, seeing that she could not succeed on that side, I am, my Lord, said she to him, as much interessed as you in the Queens Conduct; for she may have some reason with you to treat you after the manner she does, but with me, she has none, I know the means, pursued she, if you would believe me, to get into her favour, if she has the least disposition not to hate you, and for me to have my return on Don Geronimo, by whom I have been played upon. Do you make show of loving me, and that you have followed the Counsels that were given you. A Woman, added she, may use contempt, but she seldom sees without vexation that an other does profit by it. It is the only touch stone for the Queen's Heart, and I warrant you, that this fiction shall have lasted no longer than Eight days, than that you will see her change her Opinion. To feign for Eight days, replied the Count, who liked the Council well enough that the Countess gave him, it is a great deal of time, Madam, for a Lover, who is full of Ardour for that Charming Princess. He had hardly finished speaking, than that the Queen returning from dinner, passed through the Countess' Chamber, and was much surprised to find the Count with her at that Hour. That Lover, who would begin to act the part he was advised to by the Countess, no sooner saw her arrive, than that rising, he retired, thinking himself much more strong to seign, in flying an object that he adored, notwithstanding all her cruel contempt, than in remaining in her presence. The Queen still more astonished to see the Count go thus away, asked her I ady of Honour the reason of it, who declared she knew nothing, but in such a manner that it excited that Princess' Curiosity, who pressed her to tell her the Subject of that prompt retreat, and upon what they discoursed. The Countess after having still made some refusal for the augmenting the Queen's suspicions, feigning to yield to so many Prayers, avouched to her that at length the despair she had brought the Count to, had had the effect she desired, and that having sought for her all the Morning to speak to her in particular, he had said to her such things that he must be the most perfidious of all men, if they were not true. The Queen, who was not used be constrained, could not hinder from showing the alteration in her Face, that, what the Countess had told had caused in her Heart, and opening her Mouth with much pain, she asked her what it was the Ambassador had said to her. But the Countess pretending to discretion, begged she would not press her in that, because she had promised secrecy. The Queen, who would not discover her trouble, quitted her to retire to her Chamber, where all the most cruel motions assailed her, and gave her no repose till she had spoken in particular with the Count, but she did not so quickly find the occasion; for she was not willing to speak to him before the Countess, who being at length fallen ill through the agitations of her mind, and the violences she was obliged to use upon herself, the Count passed almost whole days in her Chamber. The Queen came there sometimes, but besides her Rival's Eyes, whom she begun to fear, there was likewise those of Don Geronimo, who was from Morning to Evening in her Chamber, and whom she feared as much as the Countess. Insomuch that it was the rarest Scene imaginable which daily passed between those Four Persons, the Count affecting to entertain the Countess, as in obedience to the Queen's orders, and the Queen to discourse with Don Geronimo, for the amusing him, and making the others believe that she was not concerned at their good Intelligence. But all these parts, especially those of the Queen and the Count demanded too much violence, to last long: Insomuch that the Queen one day finding, that Don Gerenimo was with the Countess, whom he endeavoured to entertain, and that the Count was at some distance, she came and sat near the place where he was, and viewing him with a tender air. What change is this, said she to him with a Tone of voice not to be understood by the Countess, there is in you since some days, I can hardly imagine, it is the same Count d' Aveline, who spoke to me in the Garden. It is true, Madam, answered that Lover, wholly Charmed with this reproach, that the change is great, but it ought not to surprise you, since you ordered me it, Yes, replied she, but confess you were not in much pain to obey me. The amorous Hannibal sighed, and felt his Heart so seized with joy and tenderness, to read in the Queen's Eyes, as well as in her words that he was not indifferent to her, that he could hardly open his mouth, to make her understand that she was mistaken, and that far from having changed, he loved her more passionately than he had ever loved her. That Lovely Princess well judging that that was not a place for reconciliation, left of this discourse and turning towards Don Geronimo, she entered into that that Minister had with the Countefs, not to give them matter of Suspicion. However after having been some time in that Chamber, the impatience she was in of entertaining the Count in particular, mastering all manner of consideration, she told him softly, that she had something to say to him, and that he should be within an Hour in the Garden; but that it might be in such a manner that the Countess might know nothing of it. After which she retired: That happy Lover wholly Charmed with this order, or rather at this Randevouze, could hardly hinder himself from showing his joy before a jealous Woman, who, in the uneasiness she was to know what the Queen had told him, examined him in all kinds. But in fine the amorous Hannibal weary of constraint, and impatient to go to the Garden, seeing the Hour approach, took leave of her, and leaving her with Don Geronimo, seemed to sly to the place of assignation, so fearful he was of coming too late. Thus was he at Liberty of giving a lose to all his joy, he went from Alley to Alley, he walked, he stopped, he ran, he went in a Thousand kind of Paces transported with the happiness of hat day. If any thing was capable of troubling him in his amorous disorder, it was the reflections he sometimes made on Don Geronimo, whom he sancied if not savoured, at least very far advanced in the kindness of that Princess, who did, he thought, things for that Minister, that one does not for an indifferent Person, and for whom one has not a great engagement, he hoped to know suddenly the certainty. He had already took several turns in the Garden, in those occasion's time lasts furiously to a Lover, it was something late, he incessantly turned his Eyes towards the Palace for to see if the Queen did not appear, and he began to doubt of his good fortune with a vexation that made him repay with great usury the little joy he had had. When in sine he saw that lovely Princess come, who followed only by two of her Maids of Honour, showed the earnestness enough she had to join him by the swift pace she walked, she immediately feigned to be surprirized with seeing him; How so late, my Lord, said she to him, and walking all alone in the Garden? You must needs be in Love to do this. The Count, who presently comprehended the reason that made the Queen speak thus, and that it was by reason of her Maids, made such an answer as the Conjuncture demanded, and having given her his Hand to help her to walk, they began it together. The Queen no sooner saw herself at a distance great enough, not to be understood by her two Maids, who followed her, than with a smile perfectly Charming, I have made you wait a little, said she to the Count, but I could not come sooner, having been obliged to see the King depart, who is gone toly Three Leagues from hence upon a Hunting match that is to be made to Morrow. I had like to have broke my word with you, added she, for it is very late, and I must retire in a moment. Have you only done me so great an Honour, Madam, answered Hannibal, to deprive me of it so soon. What I suffer, pursued he sighing, since Five or Six days, cannot be solaced by so short a happiness. You ought not to complain, replied the Queen, you have passed those days pleasantly enough, of which you speak; and if any thing has given you pain, it was without doubt my presence, which has sometimes troubled you in your softest moments. You, Madam, replied the Count, can you disturb my days in that manner? Can you believe it, No, I have seen it, said the Queen, and the continual cares you take to fly me and shun my sight, have but too often confirmed me in what I say. You take pleasure, Madam, replied the Count, to Laugh still at my troubles. For it is not possible that you have not penetrated into all this fiction; and that notwithstanding all my Artifice, my Eyes have not told you, that it was not without an extreme violence that I forced myself from you, and that I deprived myself of seeing you. But how can you accommodate, replied the Queen what you say, with the Protestations that you daily made to the Countess? Is it still a violence, or a habit of Cajolery, to act with all the passionate part? I, Madam, interrupted the Count, with an air the most surprised imaginable, at the Protestations of the Countess? Yes you: replied the Queen. There is not a Day you do not spend yourself in cares and tenderness, for the expressing to her the greatness of your Love. Not that, pursued she, in an indifferent manner, I find fault with it. You know, added she, that I was the first that counselled it you, but why to be so difficult? What reason have you to desire to abuse the Credulity of a Princess, who has ever had goodness and esteem enough for you, for your being obliged, to put some more confidence in her: must you needs by so base a Treachery make her divine, what you take so much pains to conceal from her. Don Geronimo has told me enough of the Confession you made him; and it is such a Rival as he you ought to distrust and not such a Friend as I. And I do distrust, Madam, that cruel Rival, interrupted lamentably the sad Hannibal, who has made me but too well comprehend the height of his happiness. But is it him, pursued he, that you ought to believe, Madam, when he speaks against me? and that he gives you to understand that I am in Love with the Countess, ought not he to be content with the sacrifice that you made him of my passion, without adding false reasons to render it just? Of the Sacrifice, replied the Queen much astonished, that I make him of your passion? Yes, Madam, pursued the jealous Count, his indiscretion having moved him to go and Triumph to the Countess of the last conversation I had with you, that Lady has had the Cruel pity.— He stopped there, surprised to see on a sudden the Countess appear before them, who came from behind a Hedge, which Composed the Alley they walked in. The Queen, as may be believed, was in no less astonishment than he, not expecting to have so near her, the Person of the World she ought most to fear, in such a discourse as she had with the Count The jealous Countess had observed in her Chamber certain rays of joy, in the Eyes of Hannibal, from the moment of the secret Conversation he had had with the Queen, which had made her not only conjecture, but all most divine that her Prophecy was truer than she was willing it should, and that the Queen went towards the Count when he made show of flying her. Insomuch that seeing them both go out with the countenance of People, whose mind was full of some design, and especially the Count, who, what violence soever he used, had not been able to conceal the uneasiness he was in that Chamber; she rid herself as soon as she could of Don Geronimo, and having sent two Maids in whom she confided, to observe the Queen's steps, she had no sooner learned that she was gone into the Garden, accompanied only with two of her Maids of Honour, than that she suspected a Rendezvous, wherein all that her jealousy had been able to invent for the disuniting of those Two Lovers was going to be destroyed. She called for her , and notwithstanding all the opposition of the Persons about her, who were astonished at her design, and who represented to her that she was not in a Condition to rise; and much less to go out of her Chamber, and to go take the Air, she would go walk in the Garden, and took with her only one of her Chamber Maids, who was of her Confidence. She had not had the patience to be quite dressed, and all in disorder she descended into the Garden with more haste than the weakness of her Body could well permit her, but it was the mind which carried her, or if you will her Love or jealousy. She had no sooner discovered where the Queen was, than that stealing from Alley to Alley, and still concealing herself with the Hedges between which she walked, she came towards that where they were, and just in the time that those two Lovers were going to inform themselves upon her Chapter. Which obliged her to show herself, notwithstanding all the Curiosity she had of listening to them. It is true, that she came to them with so much trouble and Agitation of mind, that she could hardly understand what they said. But in fine the Word of Sacrifice, and that of Countess coming to her Ears, she could no longer be Mistress of herself: and must needs go interupt them. She did at first all she could to compose herself, but the alteration there was in her Face, did but too much discover the occasion of her coming in a place, where there was so little reason to expect her: and seeing the surprise with which they looked upon her, you find it without doubt strange, Madam, said she to the Queen, to see me here; and I am assured you did not expect me, but wearied with lying in Bed, I fancied it would do me no hurt to go take the Air. But may be I am come inconveniently and am troublesome to you: If it be so, Madam, I shall retire. You spoke, answered the Queen, something blushing, a Language very new both to yourself and me. You know, pursued she, that I am very glad to see you wherever I am, and that you cannot incommode me, but it is true, that I am something astonished, that you have so little care of your health, and if there is any thing I blame in you, it is that. Nothing pressed you to come out, but let us retire, for I confess you raise my pity, and I fear you will really fall sick. The Countess, after having thanked the Queen for the tender Sentiments she seemed to have for her, set herself to follow her, but with so much difficulty, that she could hardly bear herself up, insomuch that that Charming Princess, who had a most compassionate and tender Soul, taking notice of it, would not augment the ills of that Poor Sick Lady, and bid the Count have pity of that Lover, and that he should give her his Hand, resolving that for once at least the passion she had in her Heart should not be the strongest. The Count obeyed, but the Conversation he had with that Lady was not great; for she could hardly speak, overcome with emotion that her Soul as well as her Body suffered. She only held her Eyes fised upon him, and it was the Language with which she expressed to him all the violent motions, which then passed in her, and of which he was the only cause. They came in that manner to the Queen's apartment, who, having been willing to accompany the Countess to her Chamber, left her, a moment after, at the Liberty to go to Bed, of which she had great need. The Count, having given her his Hand to lead her back, was in an extreme impatience of entering again into the Conversation they had begun in the Garden, and which he perceived was tending to a kind Reconciliation; But the Queen whether out of Malice or Prudence told him, that it was too late, and that he should go give some Comfort to that desolate Lady, and that they would at another time end their Quarrel. Hannibal undone with this answer, begged of her to give him at least one Quarter of an Hours Audience more: but with an Air so passionate, that the Queen could not hold from laughing. You have then a mind, said she to him, to kill that Poor wretch, who at this Hour imagines a Thousand things that sting her. Go, pursued She, still smiling, go put her Mind at rest, for you own this at least to her Love. The Count looked upon the Queen, who he saw took delight in railing him upon his pain, and with an Air very indifferent; there are, Madam, answered he Her, other people about her who are more proper than I to render her those Cares: But if her Disease had occasion for mine, her recovery would be very dangerous. You are too cruel, replied the Queen, and that does not become such a man as you. But can it be possible, pursued She, that these are your true Sentements, and do you not still abuse me? For after the things you daily say to the Countess, who certainly loves you very tenderly, your Soul must be full of Treachery that so much Contempt and Indifference can be without disguise. The Count, whose Heart was pierced with all these Words the Queen said to Him, though She spoke to Him in a manner, to make him know, that She was not fully persuaded of what She reproached Him, hardly knew with what Air to answer her; but sighing, What is it I beseech you, Madam, I have ever said to that Lady, that is contrary to the Sentiments I have always made appear for you? Upon what have I entertained her, but of the tender passion, I have had more than Five Years for the most cruel Princess upon the Earth, and of which I must die, for her satisfaction. If it is a Crime, pursued he to have made her this Confession, which never ought to come out of my Mouth, accuse the vanity, not to say the insolence of Don Geronimo, from whom she had already known all the Conversation I had had with you in your Chamber. What do you mean by Don Geronimo, interrupted the Queen? This is the Third time you have mentioned him, without my comprehending any thing of what you tell me. Has he ever had part, pursued she, in our discourses: and must you not be very extravagant, or the Countess very wicked, to make you believe, that I could be capable of bringing him into such a confidence, he who I should fear in such an occasion more than all the Persons of the World? But, Madam, interrupted the Count, why then was he hid in your Cabinet? Hid in my Cabinet, replied the Queen stung with this Reproach, O, Heavens! and this is all the mystery of this Sacrifice, and of that victim that I could not unriddle! and is it possible you could be persuaded of so much baseness on my part, you who ought to know me better than any Body. Go, If I did well, added she, I should leave you in your error; but I am too much concerned. The anger the Queen was thereupon in against the Count, having almost calmed all the distrust of that Lover, he fell upon his Knees to ask her Pardon, when of a sudden there entered one of the Countess' Women, who came to beg the Queen on her part, that She would oblige the Ambassador to pass one moment in her Chamber before he went out of the Palace. The Queen being in extreme vexation that that Woman had sound the Count in the posture she had seen him, would repair it by making him go that moment to the sick, that She might not become quite desperate: It was to send a man to Execution, by so much the more severe to the Amorous Hannibal, for that he saw himself in a fair way of reconciling His Affairs with the Queen. He must however obey, but after what manner so sadly and with so much pain, that he raised pity in that charming Princess, who gave him not so harsh an Order, without being the first that found it severe. The Countess was in great joy to see that Lover return; but that joy was dissipated by the measure She spoke to Him, for his Answers were of a man so abstracted, that She perceived that His Mind as well as His Heart was elsewhere while that his Body was with Her. Nothing causes so much vexation as these kind of absences, especially in regard of Women. This Lady was high spirited, and would not make the Count observe that She perceived His contempt; but the Conversation became barren at length: She was weary with maintaining it all alone. The Ambassador made no other Answer than Yes, and No, and would even two or three times have took leave of Her, under pretext that He feared to incommode Her. At which She growing impatient in the end, and suffering Her vexation to evaporate in Reproaches, She mnde him several She had no reason to make him, She attributed to Him Crimes the Count had never committed against Her; and in sine, She threatened to ruin Him with the King, if He had not more Complaisance for Her: Insomuch that the Count knowing Her Spirit, and fearing this Point, by reason of the Queen, more than any thing that jealous Lady could have invented, very prudently resolved to stay with her, and even to be more sweet than He would have been, for the endeavouring to bring Her to Reason. The Queen according to the Custom of Women who love well, was uneasy, knowing Her Lover with her Rival, though She was well persuaded, that She had the better part in his Heart, had reason to see Her Suspicions augmented, since that Entertainment, which was to have lasted but a moment, was so long. She knew not in what pain poor Hannibal was; and her Judgement was such as another Woman's would have been in her place; that is to say, that He found Himself well with the Countess, and that it was a Treachery She ought not to pardon Him, after he had pretended so to slight that Lady.  
Amongst all these Disquiets and Reflections, there was likewise Reasons of Modesty, that the Count was so late and so long in Her Apartment, contrary to the Custom of that Court, and the King's express Orders, who would not suffer there any man but Himself, from Sunsetting to Sun rising; and however the Night was very much advanced, which might make Her Maids and other people talk, who served Her, and who might have believed that it was for Her sake, and not the Countesses, that that Ambassador stayed there at that unseasonable Hour: or at least blame her for not putting her Lady of Honour in mind of her duty; But the means to do it, without making her jealousy appear to her Rival, who perhaps would have made a Triumph of it. She would rather have died than have given her the occasion. In that perplexity of Heart and mind which was great enough whether from without or within, she was told that the King was upon his return. This news did not at all surprise her. She was used to those kinds of Caprichio's, which often took that Prince. But that which cast her into a terrible unesianess, was what would become of the Count: Who at the hour it was, could not go out but in passing by the King's Attendants, who could not have failed to have known him which undoubtably exposed her to ruin by a Prince so jealous and passionate as he was. It was not a time for her to balance any longer, if she ought to go disturb an entertainment, which made Her more in pain than all the rest, She had a better pretext for it than she could have desired. In what danger soever we are, the least ill we find on the side of Love is ever what we are most sensible of: she therefore went without noise to the Countesse's Chamber, believing to surprise them in a very passionate entertainment, and which would convince the Count of persidiousness of which he could no longer defend himself, but she was agreeably deceived in Her opinion, when entering the Chamber, she found all in silence, with cold meenes on both sides, from which one could not guests a very great tenderness. One part of the jealous motions of that Princess were then appeased, though she had no great subject of joy, she could not hinder herself from appearing in good humour, and told them, almost laughing, what brought her thither. Hannibal and the Ladies could hardly persuade themselves it, but as the Queen fell to speak then a little more serioussy and told them that there was no time to lose if they would save themselves from a misfortune which would ruin them all three together, they thought of finding some expedient for the hiding the Count, not seeing that it was possible to let him out of the apartment that night, without his meeting with some of the King's people and perhaps the King himself. As they were each for their own interests, the Countess fancied there was no place so sure as the shutting him in the Guard robe that was in her Chamber, and the Queen perceiving that if he were any where else that jealous one would be so uneasy as might bring them into trouble, or at least would imagine a thousand things to her disadvantage, agreed to it, and went out a moment after, for to send to see, where the King was, that if there was any opportunity of making the Count evade, the occasion might not be lost. That lover who was not content with the resolution they had taken, of making him pass the night in the Countess' Chamber, for whom he could not any longer but have an aversion, followed the Queen, and told her, that she should rather condemn him to die by a thousand hallebards, or cast himself headlong out of the window, than to oblige him to stay so long with a Woman, whose sight alone was become more insupport able to him than Death itself. The Queen turning towards him, and from whence comes it, Count said she to him, as if she had been surprised at this discourse, you have so much aversion after so long a conversation and which ought not to produce only contrary effects; If there has been any division, pursued she smiling, you will have leisure to reconcile this Night; for Quarrels between lovers last not long, and it is usually what most unites them. I have no Quarrel with her, answered the Count couldly, no more than I have ever had union: But what pleasure do you take, pursued he in tormenting me with with that. You know whether my sighs go, aded he, in looking upon her amorously, you know to whom my vows are addressed, why should you kill me by so cruel a way, for I declare to you, Madam, that if any thing has contributed to the aversion I have taken for that Lady, it is the unjust and disobliging War you have daily made me upon her account. The Queen fell a laughing, and the rest of the conversation would have been favourable enough for the Count, for this Princess was satisfied with him that evening, but she had notice brought her that the King was coming in: Insomuch that she had only time to tell that Lover, that he must return to the Countess, and to run to meet that Prince for the giving the Count leisure to retire. It was not possible for Hannibal to obey this order; the less since that the Queen did not cease to charge him upon the Countess' account, he believed to be in right of seeking all means not to give her any longer reason to do it. He therefore sought where he could hid himself in that chamber, and finding by chance that the Queen had left the Key in her Cabinet, he fancied that the Conjuncture was fair, that he ought to lay hold of it, and that he should apparently be in more safety in that place than in any other part: Insomuch that without making any noise, he slipped into it with the greatest joy imaginable; and hearing the King already in the Chamber, he remained for some time planted in one and the same place, for fear, not knowing what was in the Cabinet, he should have met with something in the dark that might have made a noise and discovered him. The Dialogues there was between the K. and the Queen, and of which he lost not one word, was for some time his Divertisement, for the Courtship that Prince made use of for to Coke his Dear Spouse, was something very pleasant: but being at length wearied with standing in one place, which demanded so much constraint, and where he had been already a long time, and no longer hearing any one speak in the Chamber, he conjectured, that the King was already in Bed and was a sleep, wherefore he would venture a little farther with design to open a Window that he might have a little light, if possible. Whereupon he approached it, and as he sought for the Casement, he met with something colder and softer than the Walls, or the Tapestry. His Curiosity went farther, and in fine by much feeling, he found the figure of a Man. He neither lost time nor judgement, but taking his Poniard in his Hand, he asked who it was, no answer was made him. He set his Weapon upon the man's Breast, and threatened him with Death, if he did not speak. The Compliment was something harsh to a man who had no mind to die such a violent Deaths; Wherefore it had the effect that he desired. For his Poniard being set upon that Humane Body, caused immediately a lamentable voice, which said to him, Ah! my Lord, take pity of a wretch. In the emotion the Count was, he could not well distinguish that voice. Insomuch that still pressing him to tell who he was, and what he came to do there. It is Don Geronimo, my Lord, answered he, Ah! Traitor, the jealous Hannibal interrupted him with more fury than ever, is this a place for thee, he was in that moment so transported with rage, that he was Two or Three times upon the point of dispatching a man so fatal to his repose, but in sine a certain return of tenderness, that he had still for that unjust Princess, stopping his arm, not doubting but that an action of that Consequence would absolutely ruin her, he spared for the Love of her the Blood of that wretch, and in such a weight of grief not being able to stay any longer in that fatal Cabinet, lest his fury might perhaps at length overcome, the regards he owed, to what he so much loved, he went out, and passing without any noise through the King's Chamber, where there was no light, he went to the Countess, who was much surprised to see him; because that the Queen who had but just left her, had protested she knew not what was become of him; and that he must absolutely have been retired, without knowing however after what manner, not having seen him since the King was entered her Chamber. The Count who was as sunk into despair, hardly hearing what▪ that Lady said to him, gave her no answer In the mean time, the Queen, in the uneasiness she was for her Lover, having heard some noise in her Cabinet, risen softly, while that her Husband reposed in a profound sleep, took her Night Gown, and would go see what it was, almost doubting the truth, that the Count had hid himself in that Cabinet. She advanced trembling towards the Door which she found open, the Count not having given himself the trouble to shut it for his Rival. But when she was to have gone in, her courage failed her: several reslections she made all at once upon herself, upon the time and the Hour it was, upon the Equipage she was in in the dark, in a Cabinet where she did not doubt but that her Lover was, but a Lover beloved, and against whom she easily perceived that all her Glory could not resist if he added violence; all these Reflections, I say, made her resolve to return, rather than to expose that cruel Glory to so evident a danger: but she was no sooner near her Old Husband, who was in a deeper sleep than ever, than that inspired again with an amorous Curiosity, she reproached herself with her fearfulness, and arming herself with new courage that her Heart suggested to her for the better deceiving her, she went into that Cabinet without harkening any longer to any Reflection, she searched on all sides, and suffering herself to be led by a passion that blinded her, she came at length to the place where Don Geronimo was, who knew not what to do, and had already cursed a Thousand times the moment, he began to be in Love. The Queen, who in the different passions which she was agitated with, could not fail of being much disturbed, having lost her Speech as soon as she found what she sought, was some time silent, leaning upon that Minister, as a Person ready to faint. After which recovering her former forces, Ah! my Lord, said she to him, sighing, to what do you expose me, you who know the Countess' Humour, and the King's jealous Spirit, what do you do here; have you a design to ruin me? Don Geronimo, to whom these words might be addressed as well as to the Count, not doubting but that the Queen had learned from him, that he was in her Cabinet, sell upon his Knees to that Princess, and embracing her, Pardon, Madam, said he to her softly, a Lover in despair, whom jealousy has precipitated into this misfortune. The Queen had no sooner discovered by the voice that it was not the Count, that already half dead for fear, she fell into a swoon upon that Minister, who was not a little perplexed at this new misfortune. He knew not how to help that Princess, he saw that by the least noise he should make, his Life was gone, and in this perplexity he was bereft of all his Senses, and losing courage, was likewise upon the point of falling into a swoon: When the Queen recovering her Spirits, who soever you are, said she to him, with a voice, that could hardly express one word, save the honour of a Princess, who does not deserve to be exposed to so much shame. Don Geronimo fancied, that the fear, she was in, disturbed her Mind, and to encourage her he asked her if she knew not her ancient and faithful servant. The Queen then discovered who it was and not knowing if it was by the King's order that he had hid himself in that Cabinet, she treated him more gently than she would have done. This Minister not knowing the Queen's thoughts, avowed to her, that the jealousy, he had of the Count, had brought him into that Cabinet, and in the despair the Countess had put him in that day, he had not been Master of himself, for to consult the reason, or the respect he owed her. But was it of my Cabinet, said the Queen you ought to make a place of retreat for the clearing your suspicions! No, Madam, answered he, but if it is a crime, I might plead for pardon, since I assure you, I have been enough punished by the hazard my life has been in from the Count's hands, who held his Poniard a long time upon my throat, and still more by the extreme grief I am in for having caused so much trouble to the best Princess upon the earth. The Queen thereupon interupting him, asked him how he came to be with the Count, and what reason that Lord had had to fall out with him to that point, being so much his friend. This Minister attributed the reason of it only to their Concurrence for the Countess, and then making the Queen some reproaches upon the promises she had made him of favou in his interests, which she abandoned for the vows of another, related to her all that had passed in that Cabinet. The Queen was enough satisfied that Don Geronimo had not penetrated farther into the Count's Design: But she easily judged, that she should find it difficult to undeceive that Lover, that Don Geronimo came not there upon her account, having been already more than once suspicious of it. She bid this Minister be persuaded, that it should not be her fault, that he was not successful in his desires, and having recommended to him silence, in which he had as much or more interest than she, she added, that he must wait till it was day to go out of her Cabinet, and that she would come herself to fetch him away; After which she went into the Countess' Chamber, where she hoped to learn news of her Lover. That Lady no sooner saw her than that reaching her hand to her out of the Bed by way of Caress, fancying that it had been she who had sent him back to her; you come Madam, said she to her, the most conveniently possible to comfort the most desolate of all men, and from whom I have not been able to get one word, since he came here. The Queen, who had well foreseen the effect that the rencontre of Don Geronimo in her Cabinet would produce in the Count's mind, was so touched with the posture in which she found him, sitting in a Chair, his Head leaning upon both his Hands, endeavouring to hid his grief by rising when she entered, that, without considering who she was, she approached him, and with eyes all most full of tears, I know, Count, said she to him softly, not to be heard by the Countess, the subject of your discontent; but if you will hear me one moment. I am sure to cure your mind of the unjust distrust that has just surprised you. He! What can you tell me, Madam, interrupted that sad Lover with a lamentable voice, but what will perfectly ruin me; It is too much for you, replied she, something stung at the manner he received the effects of her goodness, and if I had not forgot who I am, I should not debase myself so far, as to justify myself with a man to whom I own nothing, and who will hardly hear my justifications. They would be useless Madam, replied he, after what I have seen. I spoke to the man, pursued he, and it is not without reason, Madam, that the King being toly this night out of the Palace you would engage me to pass it in this Chamber. The Reproach, that the fury and vexation of the jealous Hannibal had made her, so pierced the Queen's heart, that on a sudden overcome with a torrent of tears, she had not the power to make him an answer, and fearing above all things, that her Rival should discover her weakness, she retired and went to Bed in a condition the most cruel and afflicting that a Princess who has an extreme deal of Glory, and Heart preingaged by a great passion, could be reduced to. The Countess, who what care soever she had given herself for to hear, what those two Lovers said, could never comprehend any thing of it, which might give her the least knowledge of what passed, and of the subject of the new Division that she well perceived there was between them, had more impatience and curiosity then ever, to enter into the Count's confidence: But notwithstanding all she could do, that lover was obstinate not to acquaint her with any thing of his affairs, and only told her, that before sour and twenty hours where passed, she might divine the better part in learning the news of his depart. Of your Depart, my Lord, replied the Countess more surprised then ever; and why, what has been done that obliges you to quit us so soon? is the Queen the cause of it! is it me? Speak, for there is not any thing, but what I would do to hinder it if it depend on me. No Madam, answered the Count; but I have already told you, that I shall not explain myself further therein; you will know enough in time, and whatsoever is the cause, it suffices that I tell you, that I have a very great reason for what I do, and that from the moment I can get from hence, I will go give order for my embarking. The Countess pierced to the very bottom of her Soul with hearing this news, as well as she had joy at the misunderstanding there was between the Queen and him, did all that she could to make him change his resolution; and told him in respect of herself, the most moving things imaginable, that she might take advantage of their disunion: but that is not all ways the best time, for the gaininga Heart, which is sometimes themore strongly bound, when it is believed to be disengaged by some prevention. The Count hardly harkened to what she said, and his Soul more disposed to motions of despair, than to sentiments of tenderness, did not show that fair Lover one ray of tenderness, nor even a spark of complaisance, he was in an extreme impatience till day came; And he no sooner saw the moment he could retire without danger, than that he took his leave of the Lady, leaving her as little satisfied with him as one could be, and enough for the putting an end to a passion, if these contempts did not sometimes rather augment Love than diminish it.  
The Queen who had passed one of those terrible nights, that Love takes delight in poisoning with all that is most cruel and bitter no sooner saw the King go out, but she arose to go put Don Geronimo out of her Cabinet. This Minister, who had been as uneasy in this place as she in her Bed, fell again upon his knees as soon as he saw her, and with a pitiful look, and Heart truly contrite, he asked her pardon for all the troubles he had given her. The Queen having made him rise, told him, that all this was nothing in comparison of the grief she had, that the Count had found him thus by night in her Cabinet; and that if he would repair the fault he had committed, and render himself worthy of her pardon, he must go find him out, and relate to him the true occasion of his being in that place, and endeavour to undeceive him of certain impression, that he might have taken thereupon, it being important for her glory that that Ambassador had better Sentiments of her, than so unlucky an accident might give him: Don Geronimo, who, in another occasion, would hardly have been persuaded to take upon him such a message, humbly submitted himself to this Order, too happy to be quit with this satisfaction, which he owed to the goodness alone of a Princess, whose reputation he had so much hazarded, and whom he had brought into a condition of having all the reason imaginable to complain of, and to ruin him, as she might have done if she had a mind; at least according to his opinion; but Affairs went quite otherwise than he believed, wherefore he promised to the Queen to execute faithfully what she commanded him, and having quitted her with great acknowledgement for her goodness, he went directly from thence to the Ambassadors Palace, where he found that all diligence possible was made for his depart; and that the Count having passed the night very ill, would not see any body that day, at least till it was very late.  
The Queen stayed in her Cabinet, loaded with thoughts upon which she form a thousand designs, that the resolutions she made, upon the state of her heart, inspired her, when she saw one of the Count's Pages enter her Chamber, who delivered her a Letter from his Master; she opened it trembling, and the impatience the had at first to Read it, not permitting her to think of any thing else, the King, who was ever listening and spying her actions, entered the chamber at that time, and slipping softly into the Cabinet, came upon her, before she hardly, with the earnessness she read that Letter, perceived him, and snatched it out of her hands, without her being able to hinder it. The grief as well as surprise of that Princess were such as may be easily imagined. She ran after the King begging him in the most earnest and moving manner possible to restore her Letter, employing even tears but the more pressing she was, the suspicions of that jealous Prince the more augmented: insomuch that to be freed from the Queen's importunity, he retired to his own apartment, where he might read that Letter with a little more liberty. I leave you to think in what a terrible perplexity the poor Queen was, that a Letter of the greatest and most dangerous concern in the world was fallen into his hands, whom she had most reason to fear; of a King jealous and passionate, and that in fine there was no means of having it again. She knew not what to do in so cruel a conjuncture, and her mind floating between fear and danger, love and shame, she meditated an infinite number of designs, without having the Courage to undertake any: she went in sine to the Countess to ask her council, she had formerly found it successful; but it was now no longer the time. She first related to her, what had passed that night in her Cabinet between the Count and Don Geronimo, and afterwards the misfortune that had happened to her upon the Letter, the Count had wrote to her upon that adventure. The dissembling Countess overjoyed at so unlucky an accident, and that things were so disordered, affected the showing the Queen an extreme regret for that accident, but instead of comforting her, she only told her things to make her the more despair, making her fear the terrible consequences of that Letter; and that if she did not take refuge with the soon in some Convent, she would find the fatal consequences it would be of to her. The sad desolate Princess suffering herself to be persuaded to follow that advice, as it really was the safest, though the Countess gave her that council to be rid of her, to have the more liberty of taking, according to what should happen, such measures, as her Love, or rather her despair should advise her: The Queen ● say resolved to go cast herself into a Convent, for avoiding the King's fury, quitted the Countess and prepared herself to execute with the soon her design. During this, Don Geronimo, who had not been able to procure to speak with the Ambassador of Naples, returning to his House found people, who told him, that the King had caused him to be sought for every where. Is it not, said he immediately to himself, that he knows that I have passed the night in the Queen's Cabinet? Every man, whose conscience is ulcerated with any crime of which he cannot justify himself, is ever in fear of being accused of it. He took courage however and went to that Prince, who was alon● in a by chamber, walking apare and with a paper in his hand. Well, said he to him so so●n as he saw him, is it thus. Traitor, that thou takest care of my honour! are these pursued he with a thundering voice in showing him that paper or Letter, the Orders that I gave you, when I recomended her to thy care! by Heavens, thou shalt smart for it. This poor Minister, as soon as he heard the King speak with this fury, did not doubt, but that the Queen had told him all, and casting himself immediately upon his knees, and with a lamentable voice, Ah ●ir, said he to him, Heaven is my Witness, that I never in my life had any desire that was contrary to your glory, and that it would be very easy to make appear my innocence if moderating your anger a little you would be graciously pleased to give me one moment of audience. And what canst thou say, interrupted the furious Monarch, to justify what I have here? Is it not to be criminal, to savour the bold and infamous designs that the Ambassador of Naples has upon the Queen? I, Sir, favour so criminal designs, replied Don Geronimo, who begun to be a little bold. Yes! thou, replied that Prince, how can I interpret otherwise the Stories thou daily toldst me, that he lived very respectfully with the Queen, while they have secret practices together? Can any other serve that Ambassador in this? and is it not visible thou art of intelligence with them to deceive me? All that you tell me, Sir, replied the Minister, surprises me, and I know not, if I should tell you that in regard of that Ambasador you may be mistaken. Ah perfidious man! cried the King transported with rage, thou wouldst continue to abuse me! thou hadst best deny it: I have herewith to confound thee: See the insolent testimony of that infamous man, which but too well declares my dishonour, and afterwards tell me if my suspicions are just, and if I have reason to accuse thee; thou must, pursued he, explain to me all the mystery of that letter, or thou diest. Don Geronimo took it trembling not doubting by what he heard the King say, that there was something in it which concerned him, and found these words.  
I ought to believe, Madam, that after the fatal encounter of last night, you will not be surpized at my depart. How cruel so ever the thing was, I do not complain of you. It is of my destiny and of Heaven that I will complain, for having made me cast my eyes, to the unhappiness of my days, upon a Princess it destinied for the love of another. A Preference so much the more cruel that the subject is low, and unworthy of being preferred to the least of all men. This thought alone asassinates me; and I should willingly at the price of a thousand lives be still in the error I was, and never to have entered that Cabinet, where I saw, what I never could have believed. O Heaven! Can I yet think it, after having seen it? Farewell too unjust Princess. I quit you without regret, but it is to go pass the rest of my Life, as a man fuller of despair than Love.  
Le C. d' A.  
D. Geronimo, who had thitherto believed, that that Ambasador was really in Love with the Countess of Palomer, was very much surprised with reading that letter; and haven taken courage, by his not being named in it, though he perceived, that it was of him the Count was jealous, he protested to the King, that he had never had the thought that the Ambassador of Naples had the least design upon the Queen, and that on the contrary he had always believed him in Love with the Countess of Palomer: in sequel of which there had been some jealousy between them upon that account, and also for a Proof that their Intelligence was not great, it was above Eight Days since he had spoke to him. That if he durst take the Liberty to tell him, what he thought of that Letter, he believed, notwithstanding the Title of Princess, it was addressed to the Countess rather than to the Queen. The King little satisfied with all these reasons, would however read over that Letter again, for to see if there was any appearance of what his Minister told him, whom he had thitherto sound very faithful. But the particularity of that Cabinet too much referred to the Queen to attribute it to any other. That which most confounded the King, was this favoured Gallant, of whom the Count complained, not knowing upon whom to cast his Eyes, there being no other than Don Geronimo of all those of his Court to whom it was permitted to enter the Queen's apartment: and there was so little appearance of casting his conjectures upon such a man as he, that, how susceptible soever he was of jealousy, it could not fall into his mind. He would however be cleared of the truth, and force the Queen to confess all things to him; and afterwards take such measures, as the resentment of such an injury should inspire him, and that the Guilty might repent their insolence. He went with this design to that Princess' Chamber, causing Don Geronimo to follow him, and would not suffer him to quit him, till he had unfolded all this intrigue. He found her not there: and thereupon went to the Countesses, where he knew the Queen was most commonly, but found no Body there. He asked in a furious manner, what was become of the Queen. But could learn no news of her, he feared some other Treason: and was in a greater despair than ever. He threatened all those he met, he sent them to seek every where the Queen or the Countess, and nothing was heard but rumour through all the Palace: He learned in fine, that the former was descended into the Garden, and that the other was gone out of the Palace in man's . All this confounded him and increased his fear and uneasiness. He ran towards what most concerned him; which was the way the Queen had gone, and he was seen like a lost man, who comes, who turns from one side to the other of the Garden, without being able to meet the Queen. All his People were frighted, he was so himself more than any one: and putting all the World in pain, he suffered the most cruel tortures that can be imagined. Notice was brought him that the Ambassador of Naples prepared to departed, and he fancied to discover in that moment what so sudden and so secret a departure threatened him with. He gave orders to go stop that Ambassador, not doubting but that his design was to carry away the Queen▪ He was told, that he was no longer at his Palace, and that he was mounted on Horseback to go away with all those of his Train. Thus, that Old Monarch falling into Exclamations that he was betrayed on all sides, and commanding his Guard to take Horse 〈…〉 his faithful Subjects sho●●● 〈…〉 in a Conjuncture 〈…〉 concerned, ented not the outrage, that was designed him.  
The Queen, after having taken Counsel of the Countess, resolved to retire into a Convent: and without losing time, she wrote this Note to the Count to demand his Comapny to Guard her, imagining she might have need of it, in the few moments that were left her to get thither.  
The Letter you wrote is something so cruel, that it would require more time than I have to make it an answer. It is sufficient, that I tell you, that I know, who I am, and of what Blood I come, not to be capable of any such crime you accuse me of. I should not be in pain to justify myself; and I should have much more to pardon you so cruel a suspicion: but this is not a time for my justification, nor your punishment. Know only, that the King has taken your Letter from me, and that I am necessitated to take Refuge in a Convent, if I will avoid all that his fury is going to make him act upon me. Send me as soon as possible some of your People to conduct me to Majorca. I shall come out at the Garden back Door, where I shall be in a moment. Adieu! If possible, let me see you once more.  
As for the Countess, she was no sooner delivered from the Queen, than in the Conjuncture of all this disorder, her Love inspiring her with Romantic designs, she sent to seek for her Gentleman of the Horse, in whom she put great confidence, and having related to him in few words what passed, she added, that she would not be alone exposed to the King's fury, from which she did not at all doubt, that she should suffer the most violent effects, if the Queen went away, and she stayed i● the Palace. Insomuch that it was requisite notwithstanding all her illness, that her Body should take forces from the necessity of the time, and that she disposed to save herself as soon as possible. This Gentleman of the Horse, very complaisant to the wills of his Mistress, having answered her, that he was ready to obey her, i● all she should please to order him, she caused a Gentleman's habit to be brought, which she had made use of in a Masquarade, and with which she disguised herself. After which having caused two good Horses to be brought some paces from the Palace, she took what Money, and Jewels she had, very necessary moveables for the design she meditated, and departed from Belver, accompanied only by that Gentleman of the Horse, who was surprised, having seen her sick in Bed, that on a sudden she found herself capable of sitting on Horseback, so much power has Love upon Bodies, when it animates the Heart.  
The Count, who, as we have already said, had prepared for his depart, are sinece the Morning he came from the Palace: his orders being but to stay at Majorca as long as he should judge necessary for the reconciling the King and Queen, no sooner received that Princess' Letter, than that making all his People take Horse, he made them file off by little and little, towards that side of the Garden she had mentioned. Immediately his affliction was extreme, notwithstanding all the reasons he believed he had to complain of her, for having thus caused the unhappiness of a Princess, he still loved too passionately, with all the injustice she had done him, not to interest himself, in all that concerned her. He went then to the place where the Queen expected him, being at the Head of all his People, and he no sooner saw her, than on a sudden Galloping, towards that side, he alighted, and presenting her with his own Horse, he served for her master of the Horse, and one of his Gentlemen rendered the same Office to one of her Bed Chamber, who accompanied her. After which he disposed his People in Three Troops, and placing himself with the Queen at the Head of that of the middle, they marched incessantly towards the City of Majorca. These two Lovers were some time in entertaning themselves upon the Subject of the conjuncture. The Queen, who notwithstanding the unhappy Estate of her Affairs, thought herself too happy to have got out of the Palace, could not hold from showing an extreme joy to see herself in the midst of so brave a Nobility, in whose looks she saw a boldness, capable of driving away all manner of fear: especially of Count Hannibal, who appeared to her handsomer that Day than he had ever been, and to have so warlike a mien, that he animated all the others. Insomuch that she almost forgot, that this was a beginning of a Thousand troubles that Fortune prepared her. They looked upon one another some time without saying any thing, each of them believing that it was for the other to begin the discourse, and to make some sort of reparation: But the Queen, was too much concerned to undeceive the Count, of the false impressions he had taken upon the Subject of Don Geronimo, seeing that there was not a moment to lose, at length broke silence. Well! Count, said she to him, will you not ask Pardon for the Letter you wrote me this Morning? It is true, Madam, answered the Count, that I am the most unhappy of all men, to be the cause of all this disorder: and that if I could repair it by my Death, I would go immediately, offer my Head to the King of Majorca. That is not in what you are most criminal, replied the Queen, and I should not be in much pain to Pardon you this salt, though it cost me my Life. But, my Lord, added she blushing, your unjust suspicions, are so unbecoming a Princess of my courage, and whose Glory has been able to relist the Inclination she had for you, are these crimes that can be Pardoned? The Count harkened to the Queen with a joy that transported him, and casting a languishing look upon her. I confess, Madam, replied he, that there is no torment but what I should merit, if my suspicions were ill grounded, but I have but too much wherewith to justify my distrusts, and maintain the reasons I had to conceive them, by Testimonies that you cannot yourself disavow. And what Reasons and what Testimonies, replied the Queen, something displeased at this answer, have you? What to have found Don Geronimo in my Cabinet, where the jealousy, he had of you upon the Countess' account, had made him hid himself, am I Guilty of all the extravagancies that it has pleased your fancy to Figure to itself thereupon? Well, Count, added she sighing, if this Minister had pleased me enough for that, if I had loved him, I would have took such order as you should never have perceived it. I would not have slattered your Passion with any hopes as I have done: I should not have sought to see you in particular, and in fine the Passion that you might have had for the Countess, could not have been so uneasy to me as it was. Once more, Count, pursued she, you are very much mistaken, and you little deserve all the efforts my Heart has made for the Love of you. These Reflections softening her Heart, her Eyes were filled with Tears, and she was not able to pursue her discourse. The words of that fair Princess having almost dissipated the fears of that Lover, he could not see this effect of sensibility without a confused transport of joy and repentance, and viewing her with Eyes, which signified all this, should it be possible, Madam, said he to her, that with so much reason of loving you, I should have none to complain of you. Ah, Heavens! pursued he, why should I be so happy in the moment I must quit you. He had hardly finished those last words, than that the Gentlemen of his Troop made him observe, that there came down a Body of Horse from Belver, and that those of their arrier Guard had already made a halt, to expect them. The Count having cast his Eyes towards the place that was showed him, did not doubt but that it was the Cavalry that the King sent after them, for to stop them: Insomuch that fearing, that those that were behind, were not strong enough to resist them, he detached part of his Troop to go Second them, and sent orders at the same time to those of the Vanguard to Face about, and to go join them also, while that he, with the few People he had, would accompany the Queen, to the place of her retreat: Insomuch that going a little Gallop, they pursued their way as far as Majorca, of which they had then made more than the half. That Princess was so satisfied with seeing that she was at length justified with the Count, and that she had dissipated all his false Ombrages, that she was almost insensible to all the rest, and all that she feared was the moment she must part from him, and which that Lover made the more sensible to her, by his saying to her, during all the rest of the way, the most passionate things imaginable, for the repairing the crime he had committed against her, in suspecting her with so little reason of so much baseness. He would have persuaded her to have gone aboard his Galleys, rather than to expect the danger with which she was threatened, and he told her all manner of things that could make her take this course. But the Queen seeing to what such a flight would expose her Glory, and that she could not repair it but in following her first design, begged of him not to triumph over her weakness, and rather help her to bear so cruel a Separation, than to engage her in the taking a conduct so contrary to her Reputation. The kind things that they said to one another thereupon till that they arrived in the Convent, where the Queen designed to shut herself up, which was a Royal-Abbey, Three Hundred Paces from the City, were sensibilities that tender Lovers may easily imagine, but which can never be well described. That fair Princess had prayed the Count, that as soon as they were arrived in that Abbey, he would quit her, without saying to her any thing, and that he would take care to embark with the soon, not to expose himself to the violences that the King might commit. But that Lover could neither obey the one nor the other: and he no sooner saw the Queen upon entering her retreat, than falling upon his Knees, his Eyes all bathed in Tears, he embraced hers with so much transport, that that tender Princess, using upon herself an extreme violence for the overcoming the sensible motions, of so cruel a sarewell, fainted in the Arms of Two Religious, who carried her into the Convent, leaving that poor Lover so lost in grief, that he was sometime as not himself, without being able to part from that place. Nothing but sobs and sighs, which moved all those who heard them, But in fine, the People he had about him, seeing there was no time to lose for the securing those they had left behind them, put him in mind, that they might have need of his presence. Insomuch that a little recovering from so sad a state, he took Horse, and went with a great deal of pain from his dear Princess, turning incessantly his Head that way, not being able to go the rate his People went, without as it were racking his Heart. He arrived at length at the place where he had left all that Nobility, that had attended him in his engagement, and he found them almost oppressed by the Number rather than the valour of the Enemies. The King was at their Head, who caused Troops to come incessantly to second the former. The Count's was but few in comparison of the others, but all warlike men, and who breathed in numbere nothing but Glory; They were a nimated anew by the C. sight, who falling upon the Majorquins with a boldness that it seemed as if he had a powerful Army with him, he repulsed them notwithstanding their Number as far back as under the Canon of Belver, and could have made the K. Prisoner, if the taking him could have been of any use to his victory: but the Q. being in a place of safety, and having nothing more to do, than to retire to his Galleys, he would not push his valour farther: he rallied such of his people as were a little strayed in that pursuit, and retired in so good order and so assured a countenance, that the Majorquins never had the courage to pursue him: Insomuch that having gained the Port de Portopi, which is half a League from Majorca, to which place he had in the Morning ordered his Galleys to come he caused all his People to go on board, and falling to Rowing, in a little time they got out of sight o● those Insularies.  
FINIS.