THE RELIGIOUS CAVALIER.  
Done out of French.  
By Gideon Pierreville, Gent.  
LONDON, Printed by J. H. for John Cripps, at the Black Lion Post-Office, between the two Temple Gates in Fleetstreet. 1683.   

TO THE Right Honourable KATHERINE Countess of KILDAKE.  
Madam,  
THE Ambition Writers have to flourish with some considerable personage in the Head of their Productions, would be less liable to Censure, if this Conduct of theirs were regulated by judgement, or influenced by good fortune. But we many times see the Patronage they make Choice of, has no other desert than that of a Glorious Title, nor no other Claim to their Eulogies than only Eminent Extraction. But these addresses of mine howsoever blame-worthy for their presumption are at least authorized by the Contemplation of such Extraordinary Qualities as create a veneration in all mankind for your Ladyship, and have made me throng with this Offering to your Feet. My Design is only, Madam, your Entertainment, which I thought this Religious Cavalier capable of affording, and that the merits of his Story would obtain him the honour of Naturalisation from your ladyship's hands. I will leave to others, Madam, the vanity of endeavouring to give the world an Idea of so charming a Character as that of your Ladyships; the vanity of pretending to draw and copy an Inimitable Beauty, and of proclaiming Virtues which can never be better expressed than by their effects, and which even outshine the Glories of your Birth, and the lustre of your alliance. All I aspire to is the having one Voice in the General Consort, and leave to declare the profound respect and submission wherewith I am,  
Madam, Your Ladyship's Most Humble and Most obedient Servant; Gideon Pierreville.   

THE RELIGIOUS CAVALIER.  
EVrope was in a Calm, Mars and Bellona weary of sowing slaughter and horror had delivered up to the delights of a sedate and rural life one of their Bravest Ministers. A Nobleman did pleasingly enjoy the satisfaction of the Vintage of the most delicious Wines of France, which grew near his Castle in the Province of Champagne; when that Heaven thought fit to recompense his Heroic Labours by giving him in Placidia and Damis an accomplished Daughter and a worthy Heir of his Great Heart: this last received an Education Conformable to his Extraction, and Placidia, who shared deepest in the inclination of her Parents, was brought up in all the Exercises of a person of her Rank. The Peace did not last long, some Bicker arising between Spain and France, the Count, Placidia's Father, was recalled to Court while she took Lessons upon the Lute and Guittar from an Italian Master who taught her to perfection the Italian Tongue, to which she had a natural inclination. That Illustrious Cavalier had order to march at the Head of a Regiment to the Siege of Lisle, where having been wounded mortally by a Granado, he found in the Ditch of that Town the usual Tomb of Great Men.  
Placidia was then but twelve years old, when the Countess her Mother received news of the Death of her Illustrious Husband. That Lady imparted the sad tidings to her Daughter of the tragical end of the Count her Father, who though in so tender an age had nevertheless sense enough to be infinitely grieved for the loss: they both afforded for some time Tears to the Memory of the Deceased, which were still trickling when the Countess took an Oath usual to young Widows, never to think of a second Marriage.  
They mourned for a season in the Country, where all the Nobility came to Court to them, as to the Principal Family of the Province. Placidia being looked upon as a rich Match had many Votaries, but as she was not only yet too young, the Countess her Mother fancied she could not where so well receive the Breeding of a person of her Quality as at Paris, which we may call the School of politeness. Whereupon she took a resolution of going to spend the Winter there; and some few days after, going thither accordingly, she took a House ready furnished in the Fauxbourg de Saint , which is the part of the Town most frequented by Strangers who live at a great rate. The Countess made so great a figure, and Placidia was so beautiful as to attract to their Lodging many gallant Men. Their House became in a few months the Rendezvous of an infinity of Courtiers, who persuaded the Countess to allow of Gaming at her Lodgings. She was of too great Quality to give occasion to any suspicions of self-interest and libertinism. It seems as if persons who are distinguished by their Extraction are uncapable of giving of themselves any low sentiments, and it is commonly only those who have neither much good nor ill fortune that Calumny attacks.  
Amongst that Crowd of young Sparks, who paid Visits of Complaisance to the Countess, and assiduities to the blooming Charms of Placidia, two Cavaliers distinguished themselves amongst the rest, insomuch that it seemed as if Colonel Fragel and the Marquis de Phare, were born, the one as the older of the two for the Countess, and the other for the Daughter, though indeed the Colonel and the Marquis had only Eyes for Placidia. The Character of the genius of those two Gentlemen was very different: the Colonel was a man naturally reserved, and did not, like the Marquis, take a pride in proclaiming himself the Favourite of Placidia though he really was so: the Marquis on the contrary gloried in being thought the Lover of so beautiful a person; and that all the world might flatter him with so fine a Conquest, he let no opportunity escape of promoting the Opinion of his being her Gallant. He went neither to the Playhouse, Park, nor any other public place, but in her Coach; he never stirred from her House, and was always making her some considerable Present, which she accepted by her Mother's leave, who would not have been sorry that a Young Man of that Quality were entered into her alliance. The Colonel for his part being very much persuaded, that how favourable soever Placidia's might be to the Marquis her Heart belied her Eyes, and her complaisance did husband his addresses to her with so much art and nicety, that he became the only object of her tender Inclinations. He had indeed a Rival in appearance, but was convinced Placidia had for that concurrent nothing beyond indifferency.  
The Marquis having much of the indiscretion of the age, and reckoning the kind looks of his pretended Mistress as certain Favours, having contracted some acquaintance at the Countess' House with the Colonel, who came thither every Evening, did without much scrutiny engage so far in friendship with him, as to make him the Confident of all his secrets. Their commerce of friendship was increased by Parties of Divertisement which they made together; the Colonel appearing indifferent to the Marquis in all that concerned Placidia: the Marquis did not think he ran any risk by unbosoming to him his disposition for that lovely person. The Colonel, who was admirably perfect in the art of dissimulation, did outwardly espouse his Cause, flattered him more and more with his having insinuated himself into his Mistress' heart, and made use of his weak side to promote his own affairs. And indeed the Countess, whom her Daughter and the Marquis had prepossessed with the good intentions of the Colonel, did willingly admit of his entering into something private Conversations with Placidia; at his coming from which, the Colonel made the Marquis a description of so tender a love, that this Cavalier fancied himself passionately beloved. In the mean while the Colonel took advantage of the liberty that was granted him of approaching Placidia. He found the secret to surprise that young Heart, whereof he rendered himself so absolutely the Master, that that Divine Creature only acted by him, and had no more motion than those he inspired into her: the little inclination the Countess had for the Colonel, at least in regard of all alliance, was sufficiently known by our two Lovers.  
They vowed to one another an Eternal Fidelity, being resolved to wait a seasonable opportunity, and contrived the means together of making a property of the Marquis' easiness, and of diverting themselves at his Cost. It was but too easy for them to render him their laughingstock, and the subject of their pastime, he went very open to Placidia, and concealed nothing from the Colonel.  
Some years passed in this innocent Commerce for the one, though not so for the other.  
Placidia with age became more cautious and rational, when Love, who is always the Author of some disorder, and glories in keeping to himself the Subjects he has once subdued to his Empire, came to disturb the pleasures our Lovers had hardly tasted. A Member of the Parliament, who though a Gown-man, was not the less amorously inclined, frequented the Countess' House, and had for some months made Love to her; when time and occasion had worn out of the memory of that beautiful Widow the Oath she had taken, if for his part he made known to her his passion, she for hers did not prove insensible. A little thing does revive those flames that are newly extinguished; the delights that are enjoyed in the sacred bond of Marriage did renew their traces in the Countess' imagination: The Gallant did so powerfully promote the recalling of those tickling Ideas, that theirs would not have been deferred, so vehement was their reciprocal passion, if her Lover had not represented to her, that it was first of all convenient to secure themselves from the insults of the Family by giving an account of Damis and Placidia's Estate, whose Guardian she had been. He could have wished he might have rid himself of them both, by confining them to a Cloister; but Damis being the only Heir of his Father's Name, it was necessary he should continue in the world; and this made them agree to employ their Friends to have him received as one of the King's Pages. They did not think Placidia so necessary a Movable in the world, how beautiful soever she was in her Curls, they thought a Nuns dress would not unbecome her; whereupon they condemned her to the obscurities of a Cloister with precipitation, and conferred afterwards seriously of the means to make her desirous of a Monastical life.  
The Deceased Earl had a Religious Sister in the Convent of Avenay, some Leagues from the City of Rheims, and very near his Castle. The Countess' Gallant thought that Sanctuary very worthy of Placidia's Vows, and told the Countess that without sounding her upon the business, it was requisite to steal her away from the sight of her Adorers, and under a pretext of a return, carry her to the Castle, and from thence cunningly deliver her to her Aunt. This Resolution was accordingly taken, and the Gallant stayed at Paris to solicit for a considerable Place, and likewise that he might not be thought to have had any hand in the matter, while the Countess took all the exactest measures possible for the execution of her enterprise.  
Placidia, who had not had the least hint of all these contrivances, was extremely surprised that without having the time to take her leave of any body, she saw herself obliged to take Coach with her Mother, who told her she took that course to avoid the importunate civility of the taking leave of a hundred persons who would have come to see them. Whereupon they took the Road to Rheims in order to their going to their own Castle, when the Colonel, whom they had not seen in two days, and who had had notice of their sudden departure met them as returning Post from Louvoy for particular affairs. The Countess fearing if she should flatter him with a speedy return, it would engage him to wait on them to the Castle, told the Colonel that some Domestic affairs called her for a fortnight to her House, and that about that time her Daughter and she should be returned to Paris. This Cavalier took this specious reason for a real truth, and offered with so good a Grace to guard them at least as far as the Castle, that this favour could not be refused him: whereupon he dismissed his Postboy, and took place in the Coach, where he was so much master of his Eyes, that it was impossible the Countess should perceive they kept any correspondence with those of Placidia's. At their coming to the Castle, the Countess being taken up with reviewing her House, the Colonel had the opportunity to take a turn in the Garden with Placidia, going from Walk to Walk they at length came to an Alley that was shaded and covered with Trees, and where no body could see or overhear them; they seated themselves, and began to make the most tender declarations imaginable, and renew their former Oaths of an inviolable fidelity, when the discovery of a Foot-mans' coming slowly to them, interrupted their Conversation, and obliged them to go partake of a Collation. During all the Evening, and the next Morning until eleven a clock that the Colonel departed, our Illustrious Lovers had neither time nor opportunity to converse, the Mother undesignedly proving to them a troublesome Argus. But what do not Lovers say when they are necessitated to hold their peace, and what is more pathetical and expressive than their silence? Before the Colonel took Horse, he told Placidia after a gallant manner in her Mother's presence, Well! Queen of Beauties, when will the Marquis have the pleasure of seeing you again? whereto that innocent Victim replied ingenuously, My Mother gives me hopes it will be within fifteen days. That time will not be over long if it be the term of your return, reassumed he, But if your absence, fair Placidia, should last fifty days it would be uneasy to you, and a mortification to your Lovers. On the morrow the Countess proposed to her Daughter to go make a Visit to her Religious Aunt: Never having seen her, she seemed very desirous to accompany her Mother to the Convent. Immediately after their arrival there, the Aunt came into the Parlour, where after some ghostly conversation the discourse became more free, at the end whereof our Ladies were invited to a Collation which was prepared for them in another Parlour. The good humour of both sides the Grate did partake in the Entertainment, from which the Countess got up to discourse her Religious Sister-in-law upon the design she had upon her Daughter. That voluntary Captive, who according to the Cloister Maxims looked upon the most innocent pleasures of the age as forbidden fruit, did applaud the Countess' Dectaration, and promised her to do all that was possible to prevail with Placidia to give her Mother the satisfaction she expected from her submission. There remained now nothing more than to make the Daughter desirous to see the innerside of the Convent, and to make her resolve to spend some days there. The Nuns are but too ingenious at inspiring such kind of inclinations: they proposed the matter so cunningly to the innocent Placidia, that the Doors were not soon enough open. This Religious House being one of the finest of the Province, upon the first proposition that was made to Placidia of spending some days there she accepted the offer, and consented to stay a week; whereupon in she went, and her Mother having passed her word to send for her back at the time appointed, she took Coach and returned to the Castle. The honest Nun in the mean while did dexterously try how her Niece stood affected, and made her such fine descriptions of a retired life, that if she had not a natural horror for solitude she would have immediately complied and demanded the Veil. As she had not the least disposition to a retired life, following the facetiousness of her gay humour, she did but make a jest on't when they proposed her renouncing the world: Her free repertees which pall'd those who endeavoured to reduce her, did not discourage the Aunt, who daily seemed to insinuate to her that the Countess her Sister-in-law had only left her with her that she might relish the pleasure of a Cloister-life, and how easy it was to attain Heaven in that retreat. This old piece of Continency one day seeing that all those rich Images she laid before her Niece's eyes seemed to her hideous, and that she seemed to be extremely disgusted with the little she had tasted of a Monastical life, full of an indiscreet zeal, she told her, My dear Niece, I must at present open my heart to you, and declare what is absolutely the will of your Lady Mother. What is her will, interrupted Placidia laughing, is it that I change my Hood into a Veil? Yes, replied the Aunt gravely, and she brought you hither for no other purpose. Placidia who thought it was only a trick to try her made answer after a drolling way, that she was yet too young, and uncapable of judging of the consequences of a choice of that importance; that she would take time to think of it, and that if Heaven inspired her with a love of solitude she did assure her that she was so well pleased with their Convent as that she should prefer it before any other. The old one continued still to insist, and Placidia to defend herself, till the next day when she expected a Coach to fetch her home, she was much surprised to see a Servant of her Mothers enter the Court with a Cart laden with all manner of things necessary for the furnishing a Chamber neatly: As soon as the Servant saw her, he came up and delivered her this Letter from the Countess.  
I do not doubt, my dearest Daughter, but that the Convent of Avenay does please you extremely, and that it will be joyful news to you that Heaven destinies you for that place: your Aunt will have informed you of my good intentions, listen to the voice of the divine spirit which calls you in secret, let not those holy ardours cool in your heart, and be assured that being a good Mother, there shall be nothing wanting on my part for your spending a calm and happy life in the land of the Saints, where you are at present. I send you wherewith to furnish your Chamber; your Aunt will take care to provide you with all the other little things you shall have occasion for. Be careful to write to me from time to time, and be persuaded that I shall ever be your best friend.  
Placidia was seized at the reading of this Letter with so great an astonishment, that she had like to have fallen into a swoon; nevertheless she made a great effort upon herself, and surpassing the sentiments of her age, she turned towards her Aunt, and told her with tears in her Eyes, I perceive, reverend Mother, I must be sacrificed to Family-interests, by burying me all alive in a place, where for want of calling, I can never take delight in; but no matter, no matter; God the revenger of oppressed innocence, will free me out of the Captivity I am brought under by a criminal self-interest. I consent to stay here till the Divine Providence shall otherwise order it. They unloaded the Cart, and Placidia sent back the Coachman without giving him any answer for the Countess her Mother.  
All the Nuns, as soon as he was departed, assembled round Placidia, assured her of their good will, and strove who should give her the most diversion. She supported herself in that tribulation until the morrow, when grief got so much the upper hand of her, that it cast her into a languishment, which was followed by a Fever that lasted above four months.  
In the mean while the Countess returned to Paris, gave an account to her Lover, who had gotten a considerable Place at Court, of what had passed, and told him she believed Heaven conspired with them, and that her Daughter was really born for a Cloister-life. This Gallant, upon this testimony looking upon Placidia's having professed herself a Nun as a thing certain, represented to the Countess that nothing hindered their Marriage, to which he found that fair Widow so ready disposed, that the Nuptial Ceremonies were completed, and the Marriage consummated. She had changed her Lodgings, and having taken the House of her new Husband in the Street called Richlieu, she went every day to Mass to a Convent hard by; the Colonel being one day there, was extremely surprised to see the Countess, whom he hardly knew again, for that she had changed her Mourning into Cloth of Gold. He approached one of her lackeys who wore her Husband's Livery, and inquired of him, without being perceived by the Lady, after the health of Mademoiselle Placidia, and after the place where she was. The Footman not having been forewarned, made presently answer, that they had left her sick in the Convent of Avenay, where she did not seem to be overwell pleased. The undiscreet easiness of this Fellow, making the Colonel pry farther into the business, he was informed of the Countess' alliance with the Courtier, and the place of their abode. Having heard too much for his repose, he withdrew in a pensive humour, and went directly to his own House for the taking Resolutions there becoming the fidelity of his Love.  
In a moment he formed the design of taking Post to go to Avenay in all haste; he arrived there the next morning. He asked for Mademoiselle Placidia at the Grate, who came thither all languishing as she was in the company of an old Matron, according to the Cloister custom. After some words purely of civility, that poor Lover told his dear inclinations, with an air which bore the character of indifferency. Well, Mademoiselle, the Divine Spirit is willing to have you of the number of his well beloved Spouses. Since when have you received such salutary inspirations? truly the conduct of Providence is admirable upon the Elect. I cannot sufficiently admire how that in so short a time a person could be prevailed with to leave the Court for a Desert, and such a person as seemed naturally inclined to the splendour of the world. I can hardly conceive the force of the motions that have prompted you to come bury yourself all alive in a House, which nevertheless we may with justice call the Temple of Virtue. He would still have continued his witty descant upon this Point, had not Placidia, who feared he would insensibly pass on to some matter which might have given suspicion to her old Companion, interrupted him with a sigh, and said, That indeed her Call had something impure, that she held it from a secret intention of her Mothers, who had by artifice got her into the Cloister; but that God who commonly makes use of the self-interested designs of men for the working his will, made her daily more and more passionate for a Religious life, for which she had then as much inclination, as she had in the beginning hated its Maxims. Our Cavalier, partly guessing at the reason she thus disguised her sentiments, made a show as if he had the same sense too. He began to make a hideous description of the Age, and to extol the advantages of a retired life with so much eloquence, as to say he himself designed to die in a Convent, that the old Nun was disposed to leave them at liberty. And truly that zealous Old one hearing him discourse after so religious a manner, fancied this Gentleman was the person who had married the Countess, and that he came thither only to inflame Placidia's passion for the Veil. Possessed with this opinion, she thought convenient to leave them alone to converse together, and retired under pretext of some regular exercise which demanded her appearance in the Dormitory. She was no sooner out of the Parlour than that Placidia's Lover seemed quite struck dumb, and she for her part could not speak to him a word. They looked upon one another for some time without speaking, the Eyes alone being the faithful Interpreters of the disposition of their Hearts. Placidia's fears gave liberty to their mutual grief. She related to her Lover the procedure and ill designs of her Mother, and conjured him to believe that she had hot any inclination for a retired life, though she outwardly seemed to have for the obtaining the liberty of the Parlour which otherwise she would have been deprived of. Upon this declaration our Cavalier told Placidia with such a tone of voice as insinuated to her the state of his passion. Do you then still love me, charming Placidia? may I presume that the malice of the world has not been capable to break those ties that Heaven has joined? Yond aught to be persuaded, replied she, that I love you, and that what violences soever I may be made to suffer, they shall never ravish from me a liberty which I have engaged to you, and which if you do not enjoy, you yourself shall be only to blame. Her tears stifled the rest, and excited those of the Cavalier, who was little accustomed to shed any. Nevertheless they held up at length, and the Cavalier renewing the discourse, said to Placidia, What can I do, my dear Demoiselle, in the present conjuncture? Command, I am ready to undertake all things to the prejudice of my Interests, of my glory, and of my life. Continue to love, resumed she, and that is sufficient. The advice you give me, added the Colonel hereupon, is injurivous to my fidelity. I have made a vow to love you eternally, and I do not believe that death can be capable of destroying my inviolable passion. Does the business lie in hazarding my estate, my employments, my honour and my life for the freeing you out of pain, I am ready to expose all, and even to sacrifice myself for your satisfaction? Placidia seemed to be persuaded that her Lover spoke sincerely, when she made him answer, That it was not yet time to come to extremity, that they were to wait the issue of things, that perhaps Heaven changing her Mother's heart, would restore them to one another without their being obliged to run any hazard: she added, that without doubt she should be forced to take the Veil, but in the interval between the taking the Habit and the Profession they might take measures and contrive her escape if it became necessary. The Colonel, who was just a going into the Campagne, and had laid out all his money for the putting himself in a fine equipage, what inclination soever he had for Placidia's freedom, yet had not so much forgot his obligations, and his duty, but that he was glad to see her disposed to take patience for some time. He engaged his Faith for all she had a mind to, and took his leave of her, after having passed his word to come and comfort her in a short time.  
He was no sooner returned to Paris than that he met with the Marquis, more passionate than ever for Placidia, whom he had been newly informed was detained by her Mother's command, in the Abbey of the Benedictine Nuns at Avenay. This young man having invited him to Supper, they went together into the Balcony, when all their discourse was of Placidia's absence. I shall know the end of the Intrigue, said the Marquis, I have spies abroad, and my Valet de Chambre, a cunning fellow, has already got the length of the foot of one of the Countess' Domestics, who has already told him several things. I shall he revenged, on that unnatural Woman, and at the peril of my life, I will free that adorable Creature from so disagreeable way of living: I intent to go Post three days hence to the place where she is, and I shall he informed from her herself what designs they have upon her: If you will be of the Party, I offer to be at the charges of the Journey, and to spare nothing for your good diversion. The Colonel pretending some business which tied him indispensably to the Court, told him that he would not advise him to undertake that Journey, and that undoubtedly the Mother, who had caused her Daughter to be confined, would have so much wit as to forbid she should have the freedom of the Grate, and that thus he might, perhaps, go very far to seek in a refusal a greater matter of vexation. This remonstrance of the Nun did but irritate the Marquis' passion, who bethought himself at that instant of an expedient which proved successful. I will carry a Coat to be made like the Countess' Livery, said he, and I do not doubt but that such a Casaque will procure me entrance into the Parlour. This was the only expedient he could employ, that his design might have a favourable issue. He executed what he had conceived, and under that disguise he obtained a private conference with Placidia, though the Abbess had received order but two days before not to suffer her to speak to any body, upon the notice the Countess had had that a Cavalier had been to make a Visit to her Daughter; but she could not nevertheless discover who he was by the imperfect description that had been sent her of the person. The Abbess, not in the least doubting but that this pretended Servant was a Domestic of the Countess' Family, allowed Placidia to see and stay some time with him.  
That charming person knew him immediately under that borrowed Habit, and like to those who a-drowning seize on all those they meet with, she made Caresses to that travestied Cavalier, in hopes, that if the Colonel happened to fail in his word, she might make use of the ministry of this Spark for the recovery of her liberty. It is not to be conceived how much the Marquis' passion was increased by this Interview; he spoke of nothing but of carrying her away at that very time, and would have pushed on his indiscretion much farther, if Placidia had not checked his furious sallies, by remonstrating to him, that precipitation in a business of that nature was rather capable of spoiling things, than to procure them success according to their desire. That Illustrious Captive knew so well how to curb the boiling temper of the young Cavalier, that she prepared him for all she had a mind to. They took together the same Resolutions that she had taken with the Colonel, that is to say, they projected her escape m case the issue of things constrained them to that extremity. This Conference which would have lasted much longer, was interrupted by the coming in of the Abbess, who inquired of the Marquis of the Countess' health. He understood himself well enough to satisfy exactly to all her demands, and had likewise a moment's time to discourse Placidia, whom Supper deprived him of, after having received from her a thousand protestations of an immortal fidelity.  
This travestied Lover having taken Post again, in a few hours space got to Paris, where impatient to impart to the Colonel the success of his Voyage, he sought for him immediately after his arrival but sought for him; in vain; that Officer had received Orders the Evening before to go incessantly to his Regiment at Peronne, for to march elsewhere. The young Marquis, who had not yet made a Campagne, and who had made his interest at Court for a Troup of Horse obtained that very day the Commission, with Orders to go join the Troops near: St. Quintin. This new Dignity did a little deface out of his mind the Ideas of Placidia, and instead thereof, traced the image of glory, which made him departed at that very instant.  
In the Neighbourhood of Arras was the Rendesvouz of the whole Army designed for Flanders. Our young Captain met there with, the Colonel, Placidia's Lover, to whom he gave an account of what had passed between him and his Mistress, and of the design he had to procure her Escape, at his return, from the Campagne, if they forced her to make her Vows. The Colonel, apprehending that the boiling youth of this Officer might prevent his designs, contracted with him a greater commerce of Friendship, and: destiny would have it that they often made use of the same Ten●, ●●…ir Regiments never separating. The Campagne was severe, and gave not any repose to those Military Sparks, who had no sooner began to relish the refreshments of the Winter-quarters than the Marquis' passion was so reinflamed, that he had nothing in his mouth but the lovely name of Placidia. Our Colonel perceiving that this passion degenerated into fury, and fearing it might make him attempt something to the prejudice of his own, besides foreseeing that this young man was upon the point of obtaining three months leave, which he solicited for the going to see Placidia, he fell out with him upon a positive dispute that happened at play. He had also an inclination to rid himself of this rash Rival, and for that purpose Challenged him to meet him half a league from Peronne. The Mine was discovered; they were betrayed by one of their Seconds, insomuch that they were taken into Custody when they were upon the point of fight, and by his majesty's Order confined at Peronne. They stayed there near two months, where they had time enough to be reconciled.  
Placidia was in the mean while clothed with the Habit of the Novices, and the time of her Profession grew near, which cast her into a mortal sadness, and her grief did with so much the more reason augment, in that she received no tidings of her Lovers. When that our two Cavaliers were set at liberty, the young Officer obtained six week's leave for to go settle some affairs, but he destined it for the going to give Placidia assurances of the continuation of his flames. The Colonel, whose passion was no less strong to go see the worthy object of his Love, infinitely troubled to see that this young Man prevented him in a Visit, which he had for above a year projected to pay Placidia, did not however show the least concern to his Rival, and only conjured him To present his humble Service to that charming Prisoner. The Livery Coat, whereof we have already made mention, did the Marquis one good Office more: It gave him a free access to the beautiful Novice, to whom, in the several Conversations they had had together, he never spoke of the Colonel, but as of a Man who had for a long time been confiscated into the Surgeons hands for the cure of a shameful Disease. He enjoyed the Conversation of that illustrious Captive for above fifteen days, always pretending that the Countess being, at the Castle, did still give him in charge some new Commission for her Daughter, at the end of which time fearing to give some occasion of distrust, he took leave of Placidia, after having engaged by inviolable Oaths to steal her away though she were professed Religious of twenty years standing. The impatience he was in made him return with all speed to his Quarters, where he did not find the Colonel, whom with grief he heard was gone to Paris. But as he did not think him his Rival, his absence did not oblige him to entertain any such suspicion, as to oblige him to quit his Post; but he impatiently expected the Colonel's return.  
The Colonel having never been but once at the Grate, being persuaded that he could not be known by any of the Nuns, sent word to the Abbess, that the Governor of his majesty's Pages, who had Sister Placidia's Brother under his Discipline, did on purpose alight there to make her a Visit, and that being very much in haste, he desired my Lady Superior to have the goodness to allow him to pay her and Sister Placidia his respects Our beautiful Novice was then walking with the Abbess in the Garden, her Ladyship having taken Physic that day, when that Sister Touriere accosted her. This good natured Abbess being indisposed, and seeing Placidia just ready to make her Vows, would not deprive her of this slight satisfaction. She sent her to the Parlour, charging her to pay her civilities, and make her excuses to this Gentleman, and assigned her the Sub-prioress for a Companion. Our cunning Cavalier imagining that she would not come alone to the Parlour, had taken his measures, and had written a Letter for to. slip into Placidia's hand, wherein he acquainted her with the true disposition of his Heart, and his sincere sentiments.  
Placidia conjecturing by the quality which the Colonel affected, that he was not willing to be known, seemed very indifferent at his appearance, and hardly raised her eyes upon him. A secret joy rendering her mute, the Sub-prioress, who took her silence for an effect: of her modesty, entertained the Cavalier, whose discourse was suited to her circumstances. This discreet Lover did not show any motion of the impatience he was in to entertain Placidia in private, who for her part did not in the least make appear how desirous she was of a particular conversation. The old and troublesome Confident after an hours discourse got up, having told the Novice that it was time to retire. She was forced to obey, and all that she could do was, in drawing the Curtain before the Grate to receive subtly her Lover's Letter, which contained what follows.  
I am always the same, lovely Placidia, and though you should cease to love me, I could not resolve to change. Let what will happen you are not bound to be eternally unhappy, or fate shall involve me in the same misfortune. Obey still for some time the caprichiousness of Destiny; you will suddenly triumph over its malice, and will find the calm is very pleasing when it is ushered in by a tempest. Your Captivity is near its period, venture all for all. Do not fear that new Vows can weaken your first Promises. The God who knows that you have given me your saith in exchange with mine, does beforehand discharge you from the performance of Promises which the inhumanity and passion of a Mother will force you perhaps to make. There is great talk of a Peace, but whether according to the good pleasure of God the King will bestow it upon Europe, or that the War continues, I will take such a course that in the midst of a general trouble we will enjoy the delights of a sedate life. You may promise yourself that in a short time you will recover your liberty, or at least will see the most faithful of all Lovers perish in this Enterprise.  
The reading of this Letter did something pacify Placidia's mind, who was very desirous to have had a particular Conversation with her dear Colonel. He had promised her before parting, that at his return from the Castle of Syllery, whither he was going, he would come-take the Letter which she was desirous to write to her Brother; an expedient which he had on purpose invented that she might have time to make him an Answer. And indeed she made him a very kind one, which she slipped into his hand instead of the Letter which with the Abbess' leave she wrote to her Brother. He had no sooner received it than that pretending to be very much in haste, he took his leave of Placidia and her too faithful Companion. You may easily imagine he did not carry it sealed up to his Garrison. A passionate love is always impatient. Now to read this precious Letter with all the attention which its matter deserved, twenty paces from the Village he alighted from his Horse, which he tied to a Tree, and after having kissed the Interpreter of Placidia's sentiments, he read this Letter two or three times, its Contents being as follows.  
Would to God, my dear Colonel, that you were as invulnerable as you are faithful to me, I should not then live thus in mortal apprehensions: there is not an hour either day or night hut that I figure to myself that you are brought back to your Tent full of a hundred glorious wounds. A true Lover ought to be something a Coward: Pardon me for inspiring into you such base sentiments. I am willing that you should follow the impetuosity of your great heart, but I would willingly run with you to glory, and fall under the same blow. You promise me my freedom: If it is at present in your power, who will be security that the tragical end of Heroes with which you are threatened will not to morrow ruin your good intentions? Steal from glory what you are owing to Love, and be assured that there is nothing but your absence that renders me unhappy.  
This Letter very much moved our Cavalier, and made him make reflections which cast him into some trouble. Placidia being got into the Belfry of the Church to follow him with her eyes as far as her sight could bear, observed that in his resverie, he turned his eyes above twenty times towards the place from whence he came, which shown that he did not part from her but with extreme regret. He returned to Peronne, went to his Quarters, where he impatiently expected the Spring, when that charming season calls to Arms. The Marquis lived in very good understanding with him, and was always discoursing him of Placidia, of the return of whose passion he flattered himself with very little reason. The Army in the midst of March marched into Flanders and deprived our Lovers both of their hopes, and conveniency of seeing again, so soon as they could have wished, the person by whom they were so diversely charmed.  
Placidia, whose year of Noviciate being revolved, and having given herself up as a prey to her profound sadness, because that she did not receive any news of her Lovers, made a virtue of necessity: and animating herself still with courageous hopes, consented to make her Vows. Her Father-in-law and the Countess her Mother came to make her a Visit a fortnight before the Profession, to whom she testified an extraordinary inclination for a Religious life. They applauded her Resolution, and granted all she demanded of her Father's Estate for the rendering her reception the more pompous, even to the giving her to the value of two thousand Crowns in Jewels, which she said was to be employed for the adding to the Ornaments of the Altar, but which she never parted with. Nothing was wanting of all that could render the Ceremony the more solemn: the Mother had brought with her an Abbot from Paris, a very eloquent man, who made a Discourse very suitable to the occasion, and in whose hands Placidia made her Vows. All these passed without the knowledge of that lovely Maid's Lovers, who nevertheless did expect this unvoluntary Sacrifice. The War being more than ever reinflamed, his Majesty made an express prohibition upon pain of being Cashiered from the service to all Officers of what quality soever they were, not to quit the Garrison upon any pretext, and this prohibition subsisted during two Winter Quarters consecutively; for which reason neither the Marquis nor the Colonel durst for two years budge from their Regiments to go comfort the poor Placidia, who shed every night a torrent of tears upon the remembrance of the Colonel her Lover. And indeed she could not persuade herself any thing else, than that he and the Marquis had lost their lives, since after such strong promises they kept so obstinate a silence. As she was one day conferring with one of her most intimate Friends, of those who had formerly an esteem for her, she spoke of the Colonel whom she imagined was kind, and the knowledge of whose Destiny she would have purchased with half her life. This Confident not wanting wit, though she had been from her infancy in the Cloister, remonstrated to her that it was very easy to know what was become of him, and that there needed no more than to write directly to him at the Army in Flanders. Placidia following her counsel wrote a Love-letter with reproaches to the Colonel, and found the means to have the Letter carried to the Post without being seen, for that being now Professed she had more liberty. This Letter came safe to the Colonel's hands, eight days before the Cassation of the Troops, which was made upon the conclusion of the Peace. It was conceived in these terms.  
Those who love but little, do not love at all. This is your vice, perjured Lover, the ambition and glory whereof you are too greedy, make you forget what you are owing to Love: you do not love at all, because you love but little. An absence of above two years, assures me, that you have for me, if not contempt, at lest something more than indifference. I conjecture from so prodigious a silence, that your heart has engaged itself to another. Be not surprised if I call you perjured, for either you are so to me or to her, whom you are now making Oaths to of fidelity. Oblige me to change my Opinion. Have I not waited sufficiently? will it be seasonable, for we to give myself up to the sweets of love, when with a declining age they will be become insipid to me? Will you be sensible to the pleasures of happy Union, when Fatigues and military labours shall have as much ruined your Body as they have hardened your Heart? If you are still alive, my dear Colonel, come bring me the happy news yourself, and if you are not bold enough to undertake the freeing me from the Captivity I am in, come at least and set at liberty the person who has loved you with the most violent of all passions, and is the most constant and most faithful of her sex,  
Placidia.  
If ever man was surprised, our Colonel was so then when this Letter was delivered him. He received it as a present come from Heaven, he read it over and over, and it had such an effect upon his Soul that he departed immediately for Paris, with a resolution to go think then seriously of the means of bringing to pass the enterprise of stealing away his Mistress. The young Marquis, over whom he had got great credit, and who seemed absolutely to depend on his counsel, did not quit him. He accompanied him with his own Horses as far as Paris, where nevertheless they lodged together. When they had reposed there for eight days they got new , and the Colonel pretending to go a Journey into the Country for three or four days, during which the Marquis, who caused a Coat to be embroidered, was expecting its being finished that he might go to Avenay in the equipage of a Courtlike Spark.  
But the Colonel preceded him, attended only by one Servant, a robust man, who had been a Soldier in his Regiment. Though he might have asked for the Reverend Mother Placidia at the Parlour without apprehending being denied the sight of her, he nevertheless still took the ancient quality of Governor of the Pages, by which he was already known in the Abbey. Placidia had notice of his arrival, which surprised her to that degree, that she could hardly go a step. She came alone to the Grate, and expected there, almost without the Colonel, who had mistaken one Parlour for another; when that having perceived him to enter into that wherein she was, she was so seized with joy at the sight of him, that she fell into a fainting fit, which deprived her of speech for above half a quarter of an hour. Never was Lover in a greater perplexity than our Colonel, seeing that young Maid without any motion, and without any sign of life extended after a negligent manner, and in the posture her swoon had laid her upon a Chair. His wishes to give her help were all in vain, a troublesome Grate not leaving it in his power. He thought that in so mortifying an adventure there was no remedy but patience, not thinking it convenient to call people, for fear of giving an occasion to a suspicion which would have broke his measures. Placidia recovered from her swoon, gave a great sigh, and said, addressing herself to the Colonel with a languishing voice, Do you live still, my dear— but was not able to proceed any farther, a torrent of tears for joy stifling her speech. Her tears excited those of the Colonel, and rendered him mute. They viewed one another for some time, their eyes doing the office of the tongue; and the Colonel at length, as being stronger than Placidia, replied, Yes, my lovely Child, I still live for you more than for myself, and I am come hither to assure you that I am ready to expose a thousand lives to free you from slavery. Do but suggest to me the surest means for your delivery. Let us not lose time in useless discourses, I impatiently long for those happy moments, and those Lands still unknown, whither we will make a happy retreat. To which our young Religious having made answer that she consented to all, and was resolved to run all manner of hazards; it was concluded between them without any farther debate, that on the Thursday come fortnight following, at eleven a clock in the evening exactly, the Colonel should come within a hundred paces of the Abbey, near the ruined of a little House, which stood upon the side of a High way, that from thence he should send his Servant with a Suit of men's  to the Walls of the Convent Garden, that she should dress herself by favour of the night, and in that disguise come to him. And that they might not fail in this design, the Colonel had on purpose brought his Servant with him, who was instructed with what he had to do. They both parted after some soft and melting farewells, and the Colonel made haste to Paris for the putting of all things in order. The Marquis having notice of his return, came to take his leave of him, designing to go visit Placidia, whose Mother he had seen at the Play the day before. The Colonel in nowise fearing the conduct of this imaginary Rival, desired him that he would present his most humble respects to that Fair one, and consult with her the means of procuring her the satisfaction which he did not doubt but she had a long time sighed for.  
Our Marquis arrived at Avenay, discoursed Placidia, who seemed at first much astonished, he made no mention of the Colonel. In that first interview, whether that she thought the better to conceal the design she had contrived, or that she really apprehended that the Colonel would fail his word, she agreed to be stolen away by the Marquis, but appointed the time three days after that projected with the Colonel. The Marquis at his return alighted from his Horse at his secret Rival's Inn, gave him a description of Placidia's new charms, and a relation of what had passed and was concluded between her and him. He spent the Afternoon with that Friend, with whom he made a Debauch, wherein they drank several times to the good success of his Enterprise.  
While that they amused themselves after Supper in playing at Picquet, their Servants drank liberally, and the Wine getting into their Noddles, they laid open their hearts to one another. The Marquis' Man Embracing his Comrade told him, Faith I am mad we must part so soon; to whom the other replied, and I am so too, perhaps for all our lives. Yet it is commonly said that the mountains never meet, but of men the contrary often happens. Whereupon he asked him where his Master was going? Into Italy, replied he softly: And mine so too, replied the Colonel's Servant, without doubt in the Company of— pursued the other who had a mind to pump him. In the company, added this indiscreet fellow, of young Mother Placidia, whom he is to steal away on Thursday come sev'night, and for whom he had already caused a Man's suit of Apparel to be made, which I make no scruple to reveal to you, because I believe you capable of keeping it secret. I am so, continued he, and 'sdeath I had rather be hanged than obliged to betray a secret.  
This was sufficient for the Marquis' Servant, who as he put his Master to Bed that Evening gave him the whole History of the Colonel's voyage into Italy. He made him repeat it the next Morning, and enquired exactly of all the circumstances he had learned of the Colonel's enterprise, and of the time he was to execute it, which having learned conformably to the truth, he forbidden this fellow upon pain of being turned away, not to say a word to any body whomsoever that he knew the intrigue, and ordered him to abstain from his Cronie's company. This young Cavalier conversed with the Colonel since that time with as much equality, though he looked upon him in his Soul as a perfidious Rival, as if he had known nothing of his treachery. The day appointed being come, the Colonel came to take his leave of him. The Marquis knew so well then how to command his resentment, that he let not the least sign appear as might discover his fatal resolution, but wished his friend a happy Journey. The Colonel departed on a Spanish Horse for Rheims, attended by his Servant, who rid on a Mare loaded with a heavy Portmantoe. The Marquis outraged at the Colonel's perfidiousness followed him at half a leagues distance attended by his Servant. He so well observed the traces of him, who went before him, that he departed from Rheims a quarter of an hour after him. The Colonel not suspecting any thing, being arrived at the place of the Rendesvouz, sent by his Servant the Cavalier's apparel to Placidia, who had no sooner received it, than that she gave order to the fellow to go rejoin his Master, and give him hopes he should see her presently. This Servant being oh foot, had hardly got to the Chapel, near which the Colonel his Master was expecting on Horseback, when he heard two Cavaliers coming full gallop  the Field, of whom the one said to the other, Here they are, here they are. He was opening his mouth to give notice to the Colonel, when the Marquis, followed by his Man, fired a Pistol in the Air, crying, It is thee, perfidious Rival, that I seek for. The Colonel surprised to hear the Marquis' voice, was putting himself in a posture to Parry the insult; when he received in his Stomach three Bullets from a Musqueton, which that young Cavalier let fly at him before he had time to ward the danger. These wounds felled him from his Horse, and he expired in a moment after.  
These Assassinates had time to withdraw before that the Colonel's Servant, being in a maze, did think of succouring his Master. He ran to him, and having neither found in him breath nor sense, he reassembled all his strength to carry him into the little Desert Chapel, where he laid him at length. Then went he, out of his wits, to go meet Placidia, when he saw her coming towards him so nimbly as did sufficiently speak the joy she had at her Deliverance. She asked him immediately all transported, Where is my Lover? the fellow struck dumb, not being able to give her an answer, took her by the hand, led her into the Chapel, to contemplate there the most fatal of all spectacles. Placidia near her Lover, whom she thought asleep, thuncht with her hand to wake him; but the insensible, sleeping an eternal sleep, was without any motion. She put her hand a second time upon him, as it were to tickle him, which she drew back all over bloody, without conjecturing any thing of what had happened, turning towards the Servant, she asked him if he had not killed his Master, and if he was resolved to make her an accessary to the Murder? to which the poor fellow made answer, No, Madam, I am not the Author of my Master's death, but the Marquis, who has a long time sighed for you, was not able to suffer a Rival in a Friend. At these words, Placidia giving a shriek, bid him hold her up, and then fainted away in his Arms. She remained sometime in that condition, from which being recovered, she cast herself upon the Body of her departed Lover, whom she deified and embraced with fentiments of so mortal a regret, that she would doubtless have expired upon him, if the Servant, who foresaw whither the passion of this tender Maid would tend to, had he not forced her from the Corpse, and had he not carried her with some violence out of the Chapel, into which he would not suffer her to return until he saw her something recollected from her first motions. A hundred cogitations agitated Placidia's mind in that moment. She first designed to return into the Convent, which might have been done without scandal, and a moment after changing her resolution, she turned her thoughts towards a thousand places whither her destiny might conduct her. She abandoned herself at length to blind fortune, and encouraging herself against the tyranny of fate, she returned into the Chapel, commanded the Servant to empty his Master's Pockets, and having taken his Table-book, wrote therein by favour of the Moon these harsh lines which she addressed to the Abbess, who was the Lady of the place.  
Madam,  
Your self-interested zeal has occasioned this Murder. You ought not in concert with an unnatural Mother have put me in Chains. If you will take a just revenge on me, tear out the Heart of this too faithful Lover, and plunge therein a Poignard. It is the Heart of Placidia.  
This energick Invective took up near four Pages of the Table-book. She laid them open upon the dead man's Stomach; which being done, the Servant helped her to get on Horseback, and followed her, after she had promised him, that to what place soever they went, she would make his fortune. She went eight leagues afterwards without refreshing, after which, having taken a morsel, she took Horse again, and continued by great days Journeys her way as far as Lions, where she refreshed herself after incredible fatigues. She caused there very magnificent Mourning Apparel to be made for her, and put her Servant in a good equipage. As she went every Evening to take the divertisement of the Playhouse, she could not but be taken notice of there. All people considered a young Cavalier so well made as a man of high condition. The Quality of Count de la Mark, which he took, fortified this belief. She lived at a high rate, which made some Rogues resolve and agree together to rob her. For that purpose they waited till about nine a Clock in the Evening that she came from the Comedy, and attacked her upon a little Bridge. Her Servant stood stoutly to it, while that Placidia, whom we will henceforward call the Count de la Mark, or plainly the young Count, made her escape. This faithful Servant resisted these Robbers the best he was able, until at length being surrounded by them, he was thrown by those Rogues from off the Bridge into the River where he was drowned.  
Our young Count lost a great deal in this Servant; he seemed for some days extremely grieved for his misfortune, and inferred from all these accidents that he was the mark of destiny, against which he took a resolution to struggle. He took a Valet de Chambre who knew nothing of all his affairs, whom he carried with him to the Court of Savoy, whither he went immediately after his arrival at Turin to pay his respects to her Royal Highness. That August Princess, charmed with the happy Physiognomy of this young Count, took an affection for him, and ordered him not to quit the Court. He became very assiduous there, appearing after a very gallant manner, which moved Madam Royal to give him testimonies of her benign inclination. And indeed he had not been at Court above two months when she gratified him with a Company of Foot; the Orders being that the Officers should not abandon the Garrison: the Regiment wherein the Count de la Mark had a Company being at Verceil, when that he wrent to take leave of her Highness, she gave him leave to return to Court after 3 months' residence. He employed that time in taking tinctures of all the exercises becoming his Profession, both of Riding and Fencing. The three months being expired, he returned to Court, where having passed several months without that any Beauty being able to triumph over his indifference, Madam Royal told him one day smiling: But, Count de la Mark, how long will you continue in an indifference injurious to the fair Ladies? How, will you be all mays insensible? or rather is this Court so barren in objects worthy any passion, that there is not one capable of staggering your resolutions? This obliging way of speaking from so Illustrious a Princess seemed to him to merit a just answer, and as he had an infinite deal of wit, he told Madam Royal: Madam, the Graces make their residence in this Court, and if I have so long deferred to sacrifice to some one of those Divinities, the reason is, because I cannot without rendering myself culpable of an injurious preference determine myself to any one in particular, the most part of the Ladies, who have the honour to approach your Royal Highness, having all I know not what that's singular to my eyes; Insomuch, Madam, that I am all ready to love, and should not think myself deceived in my choice, if I had the advantage of receiving an inclination from the hands of your Royal Highness. This Disposition, reassumed Madam Royal, is rather an indisposition to love, than the mark of a real passion. People ought only to follow, in the choice of an object, the motions of a natural inclination: sympathy is the mother of Love, and it is only from it that it can take its rise. Nevertheless, if you can conceive a Love more than one of complaisance for her I might propose to you, love Mademoiselle Berenice, showing her to him, but love her sincerely, if it be possible, and you will without doubt find how highly she does merit it.  
As the sex of our young Count did not cause any greater emotion in him in the presence of the one than of the other, he would needs show by dwelling upon this election the esteem he had of her Royal Highness' choice. He turned towards the beautiful Berenice, and made her a declaration of Love, with so much wit that all the Court was surprised and charmed with its justness. And indeed he laid to her a great many pretty things, and conjured her, through the respect he had for Madam Royal, that she would accept of his Compliments for the future. This young Lady, who had been born and bred at Court, and was no less witty than handsome, repartieed very ingeniously to the young Count, whom she already loved by inclination, and told him very gallantly that he ought not to amuse her to no purpose, but to listen to what her heart should say to him of her, and to give her a faithful account of it. Thus the Conversation ended, this new Mistress following Madam Royal, who withdrew into her Cabinet.  
The Count de la Mark being thus engaged, when he least thought of courting a Mistress, imagining that an amorous commerce which should take its rise from an unforeseen occasion would only follow an ordinary train, and would not so suddenly be terminated, returned the same evening to Court, where he had only eyes for Berenice, and agreeable replies for the propositions of that facetious Mistress. He told her that very moment so many nice and pleasant things, that being charmed with his wit, she immediately grew familiar with him, which rendered him afterwards something more reserved. This illustrious Travesty thinking himself obliged to live at something a higher rate, because since the honour he had received from Madam Royal he was respected by all people, he quitted his Inn to go take a Lodging in the principal place of the Town, and where commonly all strangers of Quality lodge who travel to Turin. Sitting down one day to Table at an Ordinary, he perceived the Marquis, the Colonel her Lover's Murderer, who seated himself opposite to her. He was arrived some days before at Turin from Germany, whither he retired after the assassination of his Rival. He had there heard so advantageous an account of the Count's Qualities, that he had a strong inclination to be of his acquaintance, and this was what had invited him thither. Our young Count knew him immediately, but the Marquis had not preserved any Idea of him, insomuch that during Dinner the discourse was wholly upon indifferent things. The Marquis having observed by the Count's conversation, that the delicacy of his wit was answerable to the portrait all the Court made of it, courted his familiarity, and engaged with him in a commerce of Friendship which outwardly seemed very intimate. The Count nevertheless kept in the bottom of his heart sentiments of revenge which suddenly broke forth by the death of that ambitious Rival, for see what followed afterwards.  
Since the Marquis was arrived at Court, his young heart not being able to remain in repose, he made visits to the lovely person, for whom the Count seemed to sigh. He fancied himself very far in her esteem, though Berenice had no inclinations but for our illustrious Travesty. He knew the Count visited her, but never having met him at her apartment, he thought himself only beloved, and it was this ridiculous opinion that cost him his life. The young Count, who only made his vows to Berenice at Court, not presuming that sentiments declared in public would be taken for sincere, upon her reproaching him one day that he told all the world except herself that he was in love with her, because he never went to give her assurances of it at her Chamber, he went on the morrow morning and found her in Bed. There it was that he found himself obliged to entertain her with soft and amorous Discourses, which had so sensible an effect upon Berenice, that she told him gallantly after an hours familiar conversation, Count, the rest to morrow. Though this manner of assignation seemed to him something too libertine, he did believe that at Court, where affairs are a long time before they come to consummation, in cases of Love they were terminated 〈…〉 expedited so soon. He returned on the morrow at the same hour, with a design to take his leave of Berenice for a month, which he said he was to employ in reforming some abuses in his Company, flattered with the hopes this space of time might stifle the flames of that young Maid. But he was too tardy, and will have another sort of Journey to take. Berenice, who had impatiently expected him in her Bed, had garnished her head with Cornets of point of Venice, with gaudy Ribbons, mixed with Grisdelin, white and blue, whose colours were as many symbols: she had, in short, decked herself with all the ornaments that could render her agreeable in the state she was. The Count seeing her in that posture did make but ill conjecture of the success of his visit, made her a very Gentlemanlike Compliment, and told her though the company of two Officers would have engaged him to take Horse that morning for Verseil, he was nevertheless unwilling to departed without coming to pay her his civilities; that his friends waited for him with all imaginable impatience, and that he desired her to give him leave to obey the Orders of her Highness. Berenice at any others time would have contented herself with a Compliment, but the amorous passion which ruled her put into her mouth such engaging words, that our Count cruelly perplexed could not civilly dispense from entertaining her for a moment. He approached her Bedside, near which having found no Chair, because she had caused them all to be taken away on purpose, she prevented him, and gave him the liberty to sit upon her Bed. If ever Lover was in a consternation it was the Count, who seemed at that moment without speech, motion or sense. Berenice perceiving the distraction he was under, asked him what rendered him so pensive? to which this Lover against his will made her no other answer than by a smile, which gave her occasion to believe that he was burnt with the same amorous desire as herself. When she saw him seated by her, her fire mounted into her face, she asked the Count with a confidence which was but little allayed by modesty: Is it true, Count, that you love me? you have sworn you do a thousand times, but the faith of a Cavalier, having always been suspected by me, you may now unbosom yourself to me, and make me know if the force of your love is answerable to the vehemence of mine. The Count put to his trumps by these advances, ready to obtain what any other would have called the highest favour, pretended he would make her a very soft and amorous answer. He said, Why has not Heaven, Madam— when that he got up hastily and went towards the Door, as if it were to surprise some body who had the curiosity to listen to their discourse. He proceeded on as far as the Staircase, from whence being returned, pretending anger to Berenice, he cried, My God, Madam, your Servants are very curious, I hate such people like the Pest. Whether that Berenice guessed he had really heard some body, or that she was scandalised at his freedom, she seemed nettled to the quick at this disappointment of the Count's, whom from that time she treated with, the greatest neglect and scorn. From that very moment she took an aversion to him, and told him with a tone as did sufficiently speak her vexation, Without doubt, my Lord, the thoughts of your being expected, took from you all other application, and you fancied by preoccupation the arrival of some body: besides, we said nothing but what might have been heard without scandal by all the world, at least unless you were upon the point of beginning some silly idle discourse. The Count de la Mark who was offended at the words, yet did seem to take notice of the reasons which animated her to use them, to him. He asked her pardon for die fault he had committed, and took his leave, of her, leaving her in an alteration capable of framing designs of the most cruel revenge.  
As she was deliberating in herself about the means of drawing satisfaction for a contempt which passed in her mind for the most signal of all outrages, the Marquis, who seldom failed to see her at her dressing, entered her Chamber, where he remained some time without being able to get a word from her. It was to no purpose for him to inquire of the state of her health, and of the occasion which obliged her to sigh. She made him no answer but by redoubling of sobs, which cast him into the like consternation. After having acted a long time the part of a Woman, whom excess of grief had deprived of her senses, having shed tears that had as it were restored her to her usual serenity, she herself reanimated her displeasure, and asked the Marquis with such an accent of voice as was the interpreter of her despair, if he loved her sincerely enough to embrace her interests, and help her to stab a Poniard in the breast of the most criminal of all men. Yes, Madam, replied the Marquis; those who vex-you, or have the disadvantage of displeasing you, offend me mortally, and there is nothing but what I would undertake and hazard for the drawing a just satisfaction. Who is this perfidious person you complain of? tell me only his name, without declaring to me his crime; he is culpable since you judge him so, and he must either take away my life, with the tranquillity which he has ravished from you, or wash in his blood the crime he has committed. The disposition wherein Berenice saw the Marquis to revenge the insult which she said had been done her, did sufficiently flatter her resentment so as to give him liberty to continue speaking. That young Count de la Mark, added she, whose insipid Courtship I never heard but at Court, being flattered with a vain hopes, that one of my ways of saying things after a gallant manner did yesterday inspire him with, came early this morning to make me a visit, entered my Chamber, saluted me, sat familiarly upon my Bed, and after having entertained me romantickly of the flames which devoured his heart, approached his head to my Pillow, and by surprise kissed me, and his hands would have taken other liberty if I had not vigorously repulsed them, and if the shriek which I gave had not made him desist from his insolent enterprise. See, pursued that malicious Maid, what has put me in the trouble you see me under; judge, my dear Marquis, if I am without reason in a rage, and if it is not with justice, that I demand satisfaction for so criminal a freedom. The Marquis, giving credit to the words and tears of Berenice, took vigorously her part, declared against the Count's temerity and insolence, which he judged worthy of being checked, and which he offered to punish immediately. Berenice after having made him promises capable of making him venture at all, remitted the interest of her offended honour into his hands and management, conjuring him not to defer taking a just satisfaction. This was sufficient to inflame the already boiling blood of the Marquis, he left Berenice without saying to her a word more, and flew to the Count's Lodging, who was at Breakfast with one of his Friends. He invited him to partake with them; they drank some glasses of Wine together, and then having taken the Count aside, he told him nevertheless aloud enough: You know, my Lord, what has passed between Mademoiselle Berenice and you; if you are as courageous as you are passionate you will meet me with your Friend, who shall serve for a witness of the action, in the Wood behind the White House, about eleven a clock, and there we will end the quarrel in which I am concerned. The Count de la Mark, having a hundred times sought an occasion to quarrel with the Marquis, in whom that beautiful Travesty had never been able to resolve to pardon the murder of her Lover, did joyfully accept the Challenge, gave him his hand, invited him to do the same, after which the Marquis withdrew. The Cavalier who had been present at the Challenge, instead of endeavouring a reconciliation, did still animate the Count the more, and very luckily lent him a pair of Buff-skin Gloves. The Marquis had waited some time for the Count de la Mark, when he very luckily came to the Rendesvouz. These two illustrious Combatants embraced one another, and immediately took Sword in hand. This last having learned but three months, and having not so strong a hand as his Adversary, did not stand very stiff to it at first, which made the Cavalier believe, who was present at the Combat, that they were not equally matched, and made him resolve to strike down their Swords to part them, when that of the Marquis pointed unluckily into the Buffglove, wherewith the Count's left hand was armed and left this last time to run him in a mortal wound which rendered the Marquis uncapable of pursuing the fight. The Count de la Mark having thus gained the Victory, bid the wounded man ask his life. The Marquis begged it accordingly, but it was too late, he fell down upon the ground, and lost insensibly his life with his blood, when our young Conqueror told this unhappy dying man. I would I could restore it thee, though thou dost not deserve it. But since thy ill destiny does rather deprive thee of it than my dexterity, know it is with delight that I deprive thee of it, and that it is from Heaven that my Arm receives the force of revenging my Lover to day. If thy agony leaves thee still any sense and knowledge, open thy eyes, look and know Placidia under the just inclination which proves thy fall, and go tell my dear Colonel, whose base and execrable assassinate thou wert, that I love him still, and that he is revenged.  
At the name of Placidia the Marquis opened his eyes again; he recollected all the strength he had left in that extremity and told this young Conqueror: Are you Placidia? and exhaled with these words his last gasp. The last service which our young Count could render to this unfortunate Cavalier was to lend him his Arm to draw him something farther into the Wood, where he covered his Body with Leaves. After an accident of this nature he did not think it safe for him to tarry any longer at Turin. He went in all haste to the City, where he went to declare what was done to Madam Royal, into whose hands he remitted his life. That generous Princess, who honoured him with her good will, ordered him to absent from Court, and for a mark of her clemency caused Letters to be dispatched in favour of him to her Resident at the Court of Rome. What inclination soever he had to see that Court, he had the curiosity to know the City of Genoa, and to make some abode there for that purpose. Whereupon he set forwards for that Town, after having engaged the person by Oath, who had been present at the Duel, and a witness of his Victory, not to engage his search. And then he changed his Quality of Count de la Mark into that of Chevalier de Saleuze, and arrived at Genoa. The destiny to which he had abandoned himself entirely, furnished him with an opportunity of making acquaintance with one of the principal inhabitants of the City whither he was going, whose wit and humour were of a man of his Quality, and not of his Age of seventy years. In speaking of several things, that venerable old man finding that this young Cavalier, with whose conversation he was charmed, designed to make some stay at Genoa for his diversion, and knowing the Town, he offered him his House, and engaged to board him for three months. Our Chevalier having found that he was no self-interested man, accepted his offer and alighted at his House, where he found none but respectful domestics clothed in mourning, by reason their Master had been a Widower about six months. He had two Chambers appointed him in the finest Apartment over those of the Daughter of the family, whom her Father had newly carried to Turin to spend some time with a Lady a friend of hers. The Chevalier de Saleuze did not abuse the familiarity of his Host, but treated him always with the highest respect. These regards did extremely please the Magistrate, who judged by the Gentile and civil carriage of his Pensionary that he was a person of considerable extraction. He took an affection for him, and without examining to the bottom who he was he fancied he should not be dishonoured by his alliance. As they one day came back from walking and entered the House, Mademoiselle Scholastica being newly returned from Turin came to embrace her Father, who commanded her to present her Cheek to the young Chevalier. She executed this order with a very good grace, and afterwards gave an account to her Father of what she had done since their separation. Supper was in the mean while prepared, which being served upon the Table, and the Chevalier thinking he was obliged to show something more than indifference, took a seat very near that of Mademoiselle Scholastica, who was a Maid of a singular beauty, and though she had hardly attained the sixteenth year of her age, was likewise very ingenious and witty. Amongst other things which she said to have heard at Court, she said that a Cavalier had flattered her with being capable of inspiring, and receiving the impressions of Love. Her Father attributing this freedom of speaking her sentiments to her innocence, enquired of her the name of the person from whom she had received this Compliment. From a young Cavalier of this Gentleman's age, replied she, showing the Chevalier, who added too that he wished he could be so happy as to make me in love. Scholastica's Governess, who knew the Cavalier, spoke his name aloud, who being very well known by the Father, he said that that young Spark was accustomed to make Court to all young Women, and that credit was not to be given to all gallantries. This old man took delight in observing the eyes of his Pensionary, who held them almost always sixth upon Scholastica, to whom he thought it was his devoir so to do out of policy. After some discourses which sufficiently showed the character of his Daughter's simplicity, he asked the Chevalier, Well, Sir, what do you think of this innocent Creature? Is she worthy to be looked upon by a Cavalier? Whereupon our young Spark replied, That Mademoiselle Scholastica was sovereignly amiable, and that there were Princes who should esteem themselves perfectly happy to be in her favour. This answer flattered the weak side that this old man had for his Daughter, and put the Chevalier more into his mind than ever. During three months that our Chevalier spent in Scholastica's familiarity and company, as a Brother with a Sister, the old man having observed nothing in the conduct that merited the least reproach, he conceived for him so extraordinary an esteem, that without knowing him otherwise he designed him his Daughter. As he was very glad she should be beloved, he took him one day aside, and sounded his disposition as to her. This illustrious Travesty who could have wished to have been capable of so fine an union? did modestly declare to Schostica's Father that he had always esteemed Mademoiselle his Daughter worthy of being courted, and that if he had never appeared passionate for her, the reason was not that her charms had left his heart in repose, but because he knew the inviolable fidelity which was due to hospitality. So wise and prudent an answer charmed the old man, who told the Chevalier, that if he had any inclination for his Daughter, he might freely declare to him his sentiments, and that he would prepare her to listen to him favourably. Our Chevalier since this notice had all the complaisances imaginable for Mademoiselle Scholastica, to whom he acquitted himself of all the devoirs of a real Lover.  
The Carnaval time being very near, the old man, who was of a strong complexion, that had not yet loft the relish worldly pleasures, being accustomed to go every year to Venice to take his share there in the public Divertisements that are just before Lent, proposed the journey to his Boarder whom he found disposed to all he had a mind.  
Amongst the general debauches our Chevalier knew how to keep a temperament between dissolution and too much reservedness, and his conduct seemed in all things to the old man so full of wisdom, that he jud'gd he could not find a more worthy Husband to his Daughter. As he was looked favourably upon by the Great Duke, going one day to pay him his devoirs, that Prince asked him what was become of his Daughter, and if she was married? to which the old man repertieed, that he was upon the point of giving her in marriage to a foreign Gentleman, in whom he observed such fine qualities, that he guessed 〈…〉 at the greatness of his extraction by the purity of his manners. The Prince testified that he should be very glad to see him, which moved the old man to engage him to come kiss his most serene Highnes' hands, which he had the honour to do, and the Grand Duke seemed very well satisfied with him, and told the Magistrate in his presence that he did not believe he would be deceived in his choice, that he would be at the charge of the Wedding, and would honour them with his presence. Such obliging offers from so great a Prince did quite determine the resolution of Scholastica's Father, who promised her in the Grand Duke's Chamber to our Chevalier, who found himself too much honoured with so ticklish a preference as not to give his consent to a Match so glorious for him, which was projected for a certain day. As soon as our old man was returned to his home, he called for his Daughter, and as he was the absolute Master of her will, he commanded her to give her hand and faith to our Chevalier. Scholastica obeyed her Father's orders with great satisfaction, and likewise embraced very amorously the Chevalier, who for his part vowed to her an eternal fidelity: the Nuptial Ceremonies were prepared without much hurry, and all was made ready by orders from the Great Duke in one of his most stately Houses of pleasure for the day of Marriage.  
Destiny conducted things to such a term as gave a great deal of disquiet to our illustrious Travesty. He sufficiently sought the occasion to steal away during the hurry of the Ceremonies, but some or other of the Company never leaving him hindered him for putting his designs in execution, insomuch that it came to the Solemnities of the Marriage, which were celebrated in the Chapel of the Castle, with all the pomp imaginable. Our Chevalier resolved against fate, had not the time to dispute with himself, and saw himself constrained to pass from the Church to the Banquets prepared in Services of the Prince's gilt vermilion. He lent his good humour to the Feast, which the Grand Duke honoured with his presence, and at the Desert drank to the happiness of the Bride and Bridegroom. The Afternoon was spent in conversations, in sports and walks, which were followed by a splendid Supper, and worthy of the Prince's magnificence. The Ball came afterwards, at which all the Court was present, and wherein all the young Lords disputed who should present the hand to the young Bride. Though that our uneasy Husband foresaw that the Company would Dance till the morrow morning, he judged he had waited but too long, and that it was time to make his Escape. Thus he vanished insensibly from the Hall under pretext of some necessity, took his Servant at the Door, and so went out of the Castle without having been distinguished by the Centinel, amidst a crowd of persons, who went in and out there every moment. He having informed his Servant of his design, he had caused Horses to be ready hard by, which they mounted, after having changed Clothes in the very place where they were expected. They traveled all the Night, during which the Assembly of the invited, and the Prince inquired for him, and had him sought for every where. It not being possible to find him, all the Company thought that he might have found himself indisposed through some excess, which might have obliged him to withdraw into some private place. His absence was the cause that they put an end to their mirth much earlier, and filled the Father and Daughter with cruel thoughts. They were in hopes to see him again at least on the morrow, but their hopes were deceived, for they met with no body who could give the least tidings of him. In the mean while they were forced to digest their vexation. All the Town went to comfort the old man for this mortifying adventure, at which Scholastica was so concerned, that she asked and obtained from her Father the liberty of going to deplore in a Cloister so surprising a Widowhood. True it is, that she did not first put on the Nun's attire, and that she still expected very impatiently her Husband's return.  
Our Chevalier de Saleuze in the mean while arrived at Rome, where he called himself plainly Monsieur de la Motte. He clothed himself there very modestly, and went to pay a Visit to the Resident of Savoy, to whom he presented the Letters that Madam Royal written in his favour, who in consideration of the Princess made him all manner of good reception, and offered him his Table. He enquired after his designs, if he was resolved to stay in that Court, and what figure he intended to make there. The Sieur de la Motte having made him answer, that he was not in a condition to be at any expense, the Resident told him, that if he had a mind to subsist on some Benefice it lay in his power to procure him one of some small consequence, until that an occasion of some more considerable one was offered. Our illustrious Travesty listened to this proportion, and thought that he ought to afford himself likewise this sort of fortune, told him that he was shaved, and that he should have the highest obligation to him if he would employ his credit to provide him the place of a Canon. About a week afterwards there fell one vacant. The Resident had notice of it, requested it of his Holiness, who gratified the Sieur de la Motte with it, whom he recommended very particularly to his Bishops. Whereupon he went to take possession of his new Dignity, in a City twenty mile's distance from Rome, called Cesano, where he arrived at the time of a very famous Fair, which was kept every year in that place, and which invited thither almost all Italy. Then he went to the Cathedral, and assisted at Divine Service, which he recited with the rest; when by the treachery of his ill Destiny which had brought Scholastica's Father thither, he was known by him. The truth is, that this old man looked upon him a long time before he could be persuaded that it was he, and it was his blushing that did most betray him. All aided to the conviction of his Father-in-law; for having inquired if he had been long a Canon, he learned that he had been so but one day, and that he had been received by the Chapter upon the solicitation of the Resident of Savoy. No longer doubting but that it was he, he enquired after his Lodging, from whence he caused him to be taken by virtue of a Warrant, which he had obtained against him. The credit of the Resident his Protector obtained his removal to Rome, where being put again into Prison, two hours afterwards our old man in the highest rage against him went to render him a Visit. At first he fell into invectives against him, called him Cheat and Deceiver, and swore he would make him suffer for the affront with which he had tarnished the honour of his Family. Our Canon let him say all that passion suggested to him, and after having seen him returned into the state of his usual tranquillity he discoursed him in this manner. I do not doubt. Sir, but that you have reason to complain of me, for having exposed you to the becoming the May-game of the Country, and for having renounced the alliance of the Person in the world who seemed the most to merit my affection: But when I shall have acquainted you with the Reasons which moved me to so precipitated a Retreat, I believe you too reasonable, not to, I will not say applaud, but at least, not to something moderate your resentment. I had a passionate love, pursued he, for Mademoiselle, your Daughter, and I thought her sensible to my passion, flattered myself that I should alone enjoy the sweets of her Embraces; and nevertheless my ears have acquainted me that I was not the only Object of her Vows, and that she had a much greater inclination for another. Towards the midst of the Ball, having observed that Mademoiselle Scholastica entertained familiarly a young Lord, near whom she took a Seat: after having danced, I had the Curiosity to hear what might be the subject of so familiar a Discourse. I slipped, to satisfy myself upon that point, behind the Hang, and those two Lovers spoke very softly: I nevertheless heard distinctly that they said to one another an hundred amorous things. I could wish, for your repose, for her honour, and the half of my blood I had been deaf in that occasion, or that the Vapours of Wine and Meats had not given them such a longing to entertain one another so privately. But what is there more indiscreet than a violent love! This young Lord said to Mademoiselle Scholastica, That happy time is at length come, that we shall enjoy those pleasures which the estate of Maiden forbidden us the use of. Heaven does at present favour our mutual flàmes, and it will only depend on that we may live in the finest intelligence imaginable. To which Mademoiselle, your Daughter, made answer: That he ought to be persuaded that she was wholly his; that how great a horror soever she might always have had to marriage, she had only consented to it, that it might serve for a cloak to their amorous Commerce, and that they needed only to seek sure means to entertain it. The Sieur de la Motte could not make this recital without shedding tears, which indeed melted the old man, but did not render him entirely satisfied. They were at: this pass when the Resident, Protector of Monsieur de la Motte arrived, who was fully informed of the things, and created arbitrator of the Dispute. This wise Mediator seeing that the Canon confessed the desertion he was accused of, did at first make him some remonstrances, and told him afterwards that he must absolutely resolve to return to Genoa, to live there in a perfect concord with his dear Wife, and upon his observing that he had an extreme repugnance to consent to this offer, he told the Father-in-law that he thought convenient for the satisfaction of both Parties, that he should make a Settlement upon his Daughter, and allow her to accompany her Husband into some other Town or City, where, not being known, they might live in a happy Union. The old man subscribed to the proposition, consented to the setting free of his Son-in-law, whom the Resident engaged to redeliver him when that things were in a readiness. Whereupon he departed for Genoa, and our Canon went to lodge at the Residents House, who had commanded secretly to one of his Domestics, to have always an eye upon him. The Sieur de la Motte counterfeited for some time, and seemed to have no other design than of expecting with patience the arrival of his Father-in-law, though he meditated his retraction to Portugal.  
The old man at his return to Genoa went to see his Daughter, discoursed her for the space of two hours, and put her an hundred times out of countenance, and made her a hundred reproaches, which had like to have put that innocent Creature into despair, though her Tears and her Candour, which was known to him, and her Oaths did persuade him of the contrary of what he had learned of her: He made her resolve nevertheless to comply with the design of her Husband, who intended to go pass with her at Venice the rest of his life; of whose return he was assured, because he powerfully flattered himself with the hopes of it. Thus she expected, without letting any thing be known of her design to the Nuns and her Companions, the time of her change of State; But she learned with a redoublement of grief that proposition accepted by the Chevalier her Husband had only been a slur by which her Father had suffered himself to be surprised, which made her demand the habit of a Nun, which was not refused, though that the year of the Noviciates being revolved, they would not receive her vows. And indeed the Old man having settled his affairs, by Letters informed the Resident of their disposition, who was upon the point of Communicating it with the Sieur de la Motte, when word was brought him that he had made his escape in the morning without any bodies knowing what was become of him.  
He had abandoned Rome and the Quality of Sieur de la Motte, to take upon him that of Chevalier, and went in all haste to Civita Vecchia, when he embarked in a little Vessel which he found there ready to make sail for Lisbon. And indeed as soon as he was got on board, they weighed Anchor; and when that he saw himself at some distance from the Port, and free from all fears, he began to breathe again, and accost a Portuguese Gentleman, called Don Alphonso, who took a singular pleasure in his Conversation: they sailed with so fair a Wind, that they were not long at Sea, and descended at the Port of Lisbon, where Don Alphonso invited our young Traveller to take up his Quarters at his House, until that he was something acquainted with the Town. He accepted the offer of that officious Portugal, stayed some days at Lisbon, and went in his Company to pay his most humble respects to the Queen, whom he had the honour to acquaint with the favours he had received from Madam Royal. Her Majesty took an affection for him from that very moment, assured him of her Protection, and recommended him to Don Alphonso, whose Father had the office of her Gentleman of the Horse. The Family of this Nobleman dwelled commonly four Leagues from the Town, and consisted in a Virtuous Lady, Mother of two Daughters, extremely beautiful, of eighteen and seventeen years of age, and of a Child of eight, Brother of Don Alphonso. This obliging family neglected nothing of all that might serve to the Diversion of our Chevalier, who divided his time between good Cheer, Walking, Hunting and Fishing. Though he had not in the bottom of his Soul any greater inclination for the one, than for the other, of those two lovely Ladies: He observed so much sweetness and conformity in the humour of the youngest with him, that he conceived for her a Love of Sympathy, which he made pass with her for a real passion. The eldest, whose Mother could have wished to have been first provided▪ with a Husband, though the youngest was her Darling, saw with a singular delight, that our Chevalier had an Esteem for her: This eldest, I say, became jealous of their familiarity, to that degree, of not allowing them the least conveniency of being able to confer together. Her young Sister, who was not very much in Love, but took a pride in being beloved, perceiving that she bore her a grudge for the affection that the Chevalier testified for her, Counselled her pretended Favourite to disguise his Sentiments, to make Love to her Sister; and told him that she should take for herself all that he should say to her Sister that was touching and tender, and that thus they might divert themselves agreeably upon her jealousy. The Chevalier consented to her request. But this young Lady was so indiscreet, as to Confide this Amorous Cheat in her Chambermaid, who went and told it immediately again to the eldest Sister; who conceived so furious a resentment upon it, that she resolved not to prescribe bounds to her revenge, but to assassinate him in his way to Lisbon, whither he was to go on the morrow to Don Alphonso, whom some affairs had called thither some days before. She gave for this execution a Ring of value, and Money, to a Peasant, formerly a Soldier, and always of a cruel and barbarous temper, who was to have lain in Ambuscade, and so have shot him dead. The Chevalier departed about five a Clock in the morning, in the cool, for Lisbon, and was met upon the way by the hired assassinate. This rusty fellow being on foot, let him pass by, and then fired a Pistol very near him behind, but miss him. Our Chevalier being startled at the noise, turned towards the Traitor, who had but one Bullet more to fire, and him he threatened to kill if he charged again, and left him not, until by the help of some Passengers he had seized on him, and made sure of his person. When he saw him in his power, he questioned him, and learned that the eldest Sister of Don Alphonso had moved him to commit this Crime. He was not willing to put this Mercenary Criminal into the hands of Justice, nor to sacrifice him to a just resentment; he contented himself with giving him good remonstrances without bitterness, and encharged him with a Letter for her, who would have sacrificed him to the passion of a detestable jealousy. Now this Letter contained only these lines.  
Love will be extremely free in its choice. Your youngest Sister has Charms, and I know not what, which you have not. A Maiden capable of so black and so criminal a design as is that you have brewed against me does not merit my esteem. Live for some other who shall have as wicked a soul as you have a base one. Take again from this clumsey, though barbarous, wretch, a Ring which he has not gained, it will reproach you eternally with your perfidiousness. Adieu.  
This generous Conqueror of himself, who apprehended some other extremity, and who besides found not any Charms in the Court of Portugal, went a walking upon the Port; where having learned that there was a Bark which weighed Anchor for Marseiles, he went on Board after having written a Letter of Thanks and Excuses for what had passed to Don Alphonso, whom he thought not convenient to see, that so he might not be obliged to acquaint him with the enraged malice of his Sister.  
He stayed not long at Marseilles, but departed for Turin, where he went immediately after his Arrival to make his Compliments to Madam Royal, who let him know that she had been acquainted with the adventure of Genoa. Then it was that our Illustrious Travesty being weary of the world, tired with acting so many different parts, and inwardly inspired to return to God, and to herself, gave the History of her Life to the Princess, whose piety she conjured to favour the design she had of finishing her days in a Cloister. Then it was that this August Princess shed tears for joy upon the return of this lovely person, as the Angels of Peace upon the Conversion of a sinner; and that she made her sensible of the effects of her goodness and her truly Royal Compassion. For having caused her to be attired conformably to her Sex, and suitably to her Condition, she proposed to her to enter into a famous Nunnery of her nomination. Placidia testified all imaginable gratitude to Madam Royal, and acquainted her with the inclination she had for another House of Religiouses, where she had often assisted at Divine Service at the time of her abode at Genoa. This August Princess very far from opposing her choice, gave her Letters written with her own hand for the Abbess of the Place; to whom her Highness recommended her, as if she had been her own Daughter, even to the engaging to furnish her apartment. Placidia, blessed with such favourable Letters, was received with an extraordinary and universal joy by the Abbess and the Community, who looked upon her as a person of a peculiar merit. A strong reason had moved her to choose this Sanctuary; she had learned that the Daughter of the Magistrate, whom she had played upon by her disguise was there in the rank of Novices, that she had long demanded to make her vows, and that she could not have the liberty granted her without a declaration of Nullity of Marriage, or without certain Conjectures of the Death of her Husband; possessed with the thought that she should free her out of pains, she made choice of that place, where she took the Veil, and declared fifteen days before her profession, what she had been in regard of the poor Scholastica, who had mistaken her till then, that she hugged her with transports of joy, that are not to be expressed. She was the Companion of her Sacrifice, as she is, at present, the Emulatrice of her Virtues.  
THE END.