THE Unsatisfied LOVERS. A New ENGLISH NOVEL. PART. I. O Formose Puer, Nimium ne crede celori. LONDON, Printed for James Partridge, at the Post-Office, between Charing-Cross and Whitehall, M DC LXXXIII. TO THE EARL OF Ranelagh, etc. My Lord, I Have presumed to Publish this Novel under your Lordship's Protection, knowing that your Name (amongst the Judicious) renders Authentic whatsoever bears its Stamp. But besides This, there are other Motives, which have raised me to this Confidence: Your Lordship has been pleased to Honour me with your continued Favours. And, my Lord, I hope you will Accept this Acknowledgement, as a Testimony how much I own your Kindness. 'Twou'd be impertinent to swell this Dedication with an Account of Your Lordship's eminent Birth and Qualities; Those the World already knows, though it cannot sufficiently admire: for which Reason, I shall be silent; only adding, That I am, in all Respects, My Lord, Your Lordship's Most Humble, and most Obedient Servant, James Partridge. THE Unsatisfied LOVERS. PART I. FRANCE was never in greater Splendour, than when the Illustrious Mary, Queen of scotland, made the fair Additions of her Crown and Person to it, by her Marriage with Francis, Dauphin, and Heir to Henry the Second, the last King that had Issue of the House of Valois: She was a Princess, that owed nothing to her Dignity, but her Miseries; for had She been Born in the lowest State of Life, her Virtues would have made her Eminent. She was Beautiful in her Person, and as well by Nature, as Education so refindly great, She seemed only born to support the Glory of the Greatest Court, that ever Europe knew: For what made her Court the only Circle of Wit and Quality, was because the Queen was of so dissembling, base, and politic a Nature, and the Princes Elizabeth (the King's Sister, afterwards Duchess of Savoy) so proud, that all those who sought only to divert themselves, shunned them as much as Respect would give 'em leave. Amongst the rest that often paid their Duty to the Daulphine-Queen, for so they called the Queen of Scotland, being Married to the Dauphin, was Madame de St. Maure, a Woman of a clear and piercing Wit; and so delightfully quick in her Conversation, that every Body was pleased in her Company; and tho' at the bottom she was really good, yet she had still the Fate of Wit; which hating to move in the dull common Road, becomes the Censure of the Ignorant, and Ill-natured. Before she was Fifteen, ( Love had taught her to distinguish) she was Married by her careful Parents to the Count de St. Maure, who was both Handsome, and of a very considerable Fortune, and had certainly made a most excellent Husband to any Woman, that had had less Wit. As to her Person, she might justly boast of one of the best Shapes that ever was seen; and though she had not in her Face those charming Strokes of perfect Beauty, yet she had something so agreeable and pleasing, that all the World admired her: The Quickness of her Wit, and the little pleasant satire, which naturally fell in her Discourse, made all those, who were industrous in seeking their Diversions, make her of their Party. Though Love was Triumphant in almost every Breast, and Gallantry appeared the greatest Business of the Court, yet Madam de St. Maure had still her Thoughts unmoved with any Passion; her Mind was in a soft Repose, and being secure in peaceful Innocence, she enjoyed all the Pleasures of Life, without the Pain; till Monsieur de Chastillon, (a Cousin of the renowned Admirals) came to Paris, a Man gallant to the last Degree; and though he was extremely quick, yet he was not eloquent, which Nature supplied another way; for so judicious an Honesty appeared in all his Words, that they persuaded above the Power of Eloquence. He had not passed many Months there, ere he made a Friendship with the young Count de St. Laurans, who was one of the nearest both in Service, and Favour, to the Daulphine-Queen. This Count was most Adroit in all his Exercises, as having been bred from his Infancy in the best Academies of France; and what heightened yet more his Education, was, that his Nearness to the Daulphine-Queen gave him the frequent Conversation of all those, who were remarkable for Wit and Breeding; which polished into a pleasing Lustre, what the pains of his former Studies had filled into a noble Form. But above all, he was a particular Admirer of Madame de St. Maure, and by his often Visits to her, had entered into a strict Friendship with her; and one may say, That two of different Sexes were never purer Friends: It was a Stream of Friendship, full and flowing, without the least Violence, or Rapidness of an unjust Desire; which gave him occasion to carry his new Friend Chastillon, to visit her: She not being well, they made the first Visit but short, though long enough to raise in Chastillon's Mind Ideas, that he had never found before: Something appeared to him in her Conversation, far above the rest of her Sex. In fine, he was so charmed with her Wit, that His Soul seemed to be born upon her Flights, of Thoughts to Heaven. She being not a little pleased with the Sincerity and and Freedom which she found in him, desired the Count St. Laurans to bring him often thither; which the Count performed every day, all the time of her Indisposition. These frequent Visits raised Chastillon's Admiration into a violent Passion; he now could find no Quiet when from her; Heaven seemed to appear, when he beheld her; and Hell when he parted from her. But that severe Modesty, which governed all her Actions, showed him no other Prospect but Despair; yet Love being too strong to yield, his Soul was labouring under the weight of the two most furious Passions, Despair and Love. He never failed the Court of the Daulphin-Queen, where Madam de St. Maure was constant, receiving continual Favours from that excellent Princes. He sought all Opportunity, by which he might (unminded) speak to her; and she, who was not a little pleased with his Discourse, (though as yet, not approaching any thing of Love,) never denied him any. But he was as yet, Alas, so young a Proficient in that Art, that his Despair so far overruled him, that it made him in silence suffer as much, as if he had unsuccessfully revealed his Passion. But Love is of so subtle a Nature, that every Motion, every Look betrays it. When e'er they spoke of Love, (the common Thearn of Courts) in spite of himself, pressed by the abundance of his Mind, he would infer the Pain of Secret Love; and lest she should suspect, he would confirm what he had said, by instancing some of the Court, that lay under that unhappy Circumstance. But in vain he strove to hid it; for well she saw, his Words, in spite of all his Art, bore still a Tincture of the distracted Mind, from whence they sprung: At which, she was not at all uneasy; for there are few Women, but Love a Conquest, when it tends not to the Ruin of their Honours; and she believed, that he would never reveal his Passion, and so it would be no great Detriment to here's: Besides, she liked him well enough, to think the Victory well worth the Pains. But his Passion was grown too violent, to remain unseen; for the whole Frame of his Nature was altered; his Conversation, which before was steady and judicious, now was nothing but a rhapsody of unchained Words: He, who had loved a general Converse, and free Acquaintance, now passed the greatest Part of his uneasy Hours alone, in his Closet. Which wonderful Change the Count de St. Laurans soon perceived; and one Day, finding him so alone, pressed Him by all the Power of Friendship, to tell him from whence it proceeded: At first he answered him, That it only was an Indisposition of the Body, and that the Spleen was really the reason of his being so. But the Count, knowing the Spleen to be a Distemper incident to so many People, thought that there needed not so much pain to tell it, if that had been all: and from thence concluded, it was but a feigned Excuse, to conceal some weighty Truth; which made him press him still more violently, till, at length, Chastillon (leaning his Head upon the Count's Shoulder) said; Oh my Friend! Sure thou didst conspire against my Quiet, when thou carriedst me to that inevitable Beauty, that no Man sees unmoved; to her, who is so Heavenly Bright, none can behold and Live. Ah! press me no farther; but let me in Silence and despair, end my unhappy Life. The Count, who immediately knew at what his Words directed, was much surprised to see his Passion (in so little a time) grown to that Prodigious Height; but since it was so, he thought it best, with all Care, to endeavour to divert it. You have been too blame, (said he) to yield so far to the false Insinuations of Love, which had you taken sooner, like tender Plants, you might have torn up by the Roots; but now it is grown so strong, that it requires Time, and Labour, to hue it down; a long and painful Absence, with all the Force of Resolution. Talk not of Absence, without Death (replied Chastillon) for I find, when I am but one Day without seeing her, Nature moves weakly in me, and I decline like to that Flower, which bends its feeble Head when the Sun sets, but is revived again by his Morning Beams: Besides I have no Power to quit her; for all my Faculties deny Obedience to my Reason, and bend towards Her their proper Centre. If I beheld (answered the Count) but the least Prospect of Satisfaction for you, I should offer you all my Power to serve you; but since I do not, pardon me, if I tell you, No Man (but you) e'er ran upon so plain a Ruin: Therefore, I do conjure you, for your own Quiet, reassume your Reason, to overcome a Passion that will never let you rest. Think but how much it is below the Free, and Noble Nature of a Man, to be subject to the Weakness of a Woman; and then cast her from thee, as a Thing not worth so many Sighs. Ah! Friend, (answered Chastillon) they talk but ill of Love, that never felt it; Do you believe, I wear my Passion as I do my , that if I find it uneasy, I can cast it off without Trouble. You much mistake; for as soon as Love enters into a Heart, he becomes Absolute Monarch o'er the Mind, and sits in Triumph upon every Thought. But to show you how kindly I receive your Advice, I promise you to use all Means, that I think may help my Cure. To show him, that he intended what he said, he went that Night abroad with him to a Ball, that the Duke of Guise gave the King. Certainly, there never was a more Magnificent Entertainment; the prodigious Number of Flambeaus set in every Window of the Streets, through which the King passed, made them appear more Bright, than in the clearest Day: Nor was it in any thing less great, within the House; for besides the wonderful Quantity of the Richest Plate, and Furniture, the Tables were filled with all the delicate Meats, that the most industrious Epicure could prepare. And to add to this, there was all the Glory of the Court, both Men and Women, dressed with all the Advantage, that Cost and Pain could give them. The Count went Home, and dressed himself for the Ball; but for Chastillon, his Mind was too much employed on other things, to regard his Dressing. No sooner were they entered, and had paid their Duty to the King, and Queen, and the Rest, to whom they owed it; but Chastillon began to look impatiently about, to see if Madam de St. Maure was there; but hearing that the Night before she had taken cold, and therefore durst not stir abroad, he soon grew weary of the Place; and all that Pomp and Show, (which but some few Weeks before, would have given him vast Delight) had now quite lost their value; for she not being there, he beheld all the Glory of the Court, with such a dull indifference, that he soon grew weary of it, and Stole away; and immediately sent to seek out the best Music he could find, both of Voices and Instruments, (for he was now resolved to give a Seranade to Madam de St. Maure) so weak are Lover's Resolutions, and so soon he had forgot the promises he made to the Count St. Laurans, and having Mustered up his Troop of Musicians, he commanded them to play at the end of the Street, nigh her House. No sooner had they began, but she immediately imagined to whom they were Addressed, and by whom: But when she heard this Song, she thought herself confirmed beyond all doubt. SONG. I. NO more, fond Love, thy Torments I defy, For it is better much to Dye, Than to Reveal A Passion, which I ought for to conceal. II. I rather to the Grave my Pain will bear, Without one Sighs, than injure her; So shall I prove The truest Martyr, that e'er Died for Love. The Count de St. Maure (though no way suspecting his Wife, yet) was naturally jealous; which gave him a Curiosity to see to whom this Seranade was directed; which made him go down to inform himself. Now the Count St. Laurans, having miss Chastillon at the Ball, pursued him, as being unwilling to have him alone; when, passing through the Street, and hearing the Noise of Music, he bade his Coach drive up towards it; where he found his Friend Chastillon at the Head of the Consort. This Rashness vexed him to the Soul; for he was afraid, lest it might make the Count de St. Maure (whom he knew suspicious) observe Chastillon more narrowly hereafter, whose Passion he knew was grown to that height, that a Thousand Things would betray it every moment to any curious Eye; and he knew, if her Husband perceived the least Appearance of it, that the most favourable Consequences would be Domestic Uneasinesses; which made him not stay long in his Coach, but alighting, told them all to Chastillon; who, at the Thought that his Indiscretion might be prejudicial to her he loved, stood like a Stone unmoved, not knowing what to answer. Just in this Interim came down the Count de St. Maure, and seeing the Count de St. Laurans in the midst of the Seranade, asked him concerning it; who answered, That Monsieur Chastillon gave it to a young Lady, his Neighbour, whom he had a Design to make his Addresses to hereafter, in the Honourable way of Marriage. The Count smiled, and took for a full Answer, and promised Chastillon all his power to serve him, if he would make him his Confident: And then forced them into his House, almost whether they would or no, and carried them up to his Wife, who not being well, kept her Bed that day. He told her, as soon as ever he entered, all that the Count de St. Laurans had told him concerning the Seranade. But when she heard him talk of Marriage, she began to suspect, that she had been mistaken all this while, and that what she took for Love to Her, had been directed to some Other; which gave her a certain pain, that she knew not how to Name; for it was not Jealousy, she thought, because (as yet) she had not found any Appearances of Love. It is (says she) a dangerous thing, that Monsieur de Chastillon is going to undertake, and few consider it, as the most important Moment of their Lives; but every one thinks he shall be Happy, never regarding the many miserable Couples, that are as many Instances to the contrary. But this perhaps may appear ungrateful in me, who have all that the most Happy can enjoy in Marriage. Madame, (replied St. Laurans) our Holy Divines forewarn the World of Sin, by the Vices of Others, if they are not guilty of any themselves. Chastillon (who durst not absolutely deny it, and yet was loath to have her think it true) said; Madam, as yet I have not fixed my Resolution; therefore, it may be, it will only end in a Gallantry: But I am still obliged to you for your kind Caution; which may make me avoid many unquiet Hours, that otherwise might have fallen upon me. He spoke this with such a confused Awkwardness, that the Count de St. Laurans grew so uneasy, that he abruptly took his Leave, (pretending he was to go to the Ball) lest the Count St. Maure should perceive it; but went straight home to his own Lodgings, where he made Chastillon stay with him all Night. This doubtful Speech made Madame de St. Maure in pain what to judge; but what made her yet more, was the manner that it was spoken in. She began to wish, that his Courtship was made to herself; but yet the Circumstances were too strong, not to believe the contrary; and she found no other way, but to refer to Time the expounding of the Mystery: and in the interim, resolve to be at rest. But, Alas! Chastillon's Passion began to grow too violent, to be smothered: He quickly cleared her Doubt by a Thousand (as she thought) demonstrative Arguments; and from this little Opposition, she began to swell into a greater Liking of him; insomuch, that she felta Change in herself every time she only heard his Name, or any thing that concerned him; which daily grew more and more upon her. As the Court was never fuller of Illustrious Persons, so was there never more Magnificent Diversions; as Tilts, Tournaments, Running at the Ring, etc. But none was ever more remarkably Great, than that at the Marriage of the Duke D'aumail, with the Daughter of the Duchess of Valentinois: This Duke D'aumail was Third Brother to the Duke of Guise; whose Father Claudian, Younger Brother to the Duke of Lorraine, coming into France to Possess himself of the Duchy of Guise, had so far insinuated himself into the Favour of Francis the First, (the King's Father) that he Established his Family so great in France, as to contend even with the Princes of the Blood. He left Three Sons, Francis Duke of Guise, Charles Cardinal of Lorraine, and this Duke D'aumail; all which became so Eminent, that they still increased the mighty Fabric of Greatness, that their Father had built. This Family of Lorraine, growing in so small a Time to that vast height of Power, had drawn the Envy of all the Nobility against it; for still, whosoever increases Greatness, increases Enemies; and especially, Strangers: So they thought to confirm themselves more in the King's Favour, by making this Alliance with the Duchess of Valentinois, whom the King had passionately loved for above Twenty Years; and even on his Deathbed, confessed he Loved her still. The List was set in the great Court of the Lovure; the Galleries, which surrounded it, were all hung with Cloth of Gold; and in the Middle of the largest Square, was placed a Canopy of high Embroidery; under which were set the Queen, the Daulphine-Queen, and the Princess Elizabeth; and on each Hand, sat the First of the Nobility. Surely, never was there a Court that shined with a greater Number of Excellent Beauties: For the Queen (Katherine de Medicis) as their own Historians report, was so profoundly cunning, that she drew to Court the Fairest of the Kingdom; over most of which she gained, by vast Temptations, so absolute a Power, as to prostitute themselves to the Chief Ministers, to make her Mistress of all the Secrets of State. But amongst those, whose Eyes appeared this Day like so many influencing Stars, to add new Strength and Vigour to the contending Gallantry of the Men, none looked so fair as Mademoiselle de Poitiers, a Cousin (tho' at a distance) of the Duchess of Valentinois. It was the first time she ever appeared at Court, where she came to be Maid of Honour to the Daulphine-Queen. Whether it were the Newness of her Beauty, or whether she really deserved it, I know not; but certainly, never Woman had so many Admirers, in so short a time. Though she was low of Stature, yet she had an Air that made her so unexpressibly Beautiful, that nothing but to have seen her, can give a true Idea thereof: Besides, a pleasant Fantastic Genius, right turned to please at Court, and to ensnare Young Adoration. The First that entered the List, was the King himself: His Colours were Black and White, which he always wore in respect to Madame de Valentinois, who was a Widow. He was mounted upon a large White Arabian Horse; so stately a Creature, that he seemed too proud to carry any thing but a King. His Bit and Stirrups were of Beaten Gold; the Bosses of the Bit, were large Rubies, set round with Diamonds; and, on the Horse's Front, was a large Jewel, of all sorts of the Richest Stones; so big, that it almost covered all his Forehead. In the midst of which, the King bore his Device; which was a Cupid sitting in the Middle of a Circle, holding in his Hand a Flaming Heart; and over the Cupid's Head was writ this Motto, Ma Flame durera jusque a L'eternite, My Flame will last to Eternity; (of which a Circle is the Emblem.) The Dauphin followed his Father. The Colours which he wore; were White. He was mounted on a large Black Spanish Jennet: His Bridle, and his Stirrups, were of Silver. He gave for his Device the Kingdom of France; and on one side, a Cupid laid down asleep, with his Bow and Arrows broken by him; with this Motto, C'est toy qui me fait abandoner L'amour; 'Tis for Thee I abandon Love. The next that entered, was the Duke of Guise, (for the King of Navarre, and the Prince of Conde, his Brother, the only Princes of the Blood, were not then in France.) His Colours were Green. He was mounted on a White Croation-Horse; which, according to the Temper, which is particular to Horses of that Country, had naturally Bled himself in many Places of his Body, that his Blood running down, appeared like so many Streaks of Red, mixed with the White. He bore for his Device the Sun; and for his Motto, Rien que la Gloire; Nothing but Glory. After his Brother, entered the Bridegroom himself. He road upon a Milk-white Spanish-Genet: His Colours were Scarlet; which showed the Victory he had obtained; as also, it best fitted him: for never was there Man known of a fiercer Nature. His Device was a Love shooting Two Hearts with the same Arrow; and the Motto, En sin nous somes heureux; At length, we are Happy. There was many more of great Quality; but should I name them all, 'twould swell too much my Narration: Therefore, I shall only tell you, That the Count St. Laurans and Chastillon were both there. The Count road upon a large Turkish-Horse. His Colours were Blue. He bore for his Device, a Cupid with a Veil over his Face, with this Motto, Je ne veux pas 〈◊〉 connoitre; I will not know thee. Chastillon entered the List upon a Bay Courser of Naples. His Colours were Grediline and Fevilemort; which extraordinary Mixture made all People wonder, but Madam de St. Maure; who soon divined, that he meant by Grediline, Secret Love; and by Fevilemort, his Despair. His Device was a Cupid shooting at a Rock, and all his Arrows falling broken to the Ground; and the Motto, Trop dure d'estre penetrer; Two hard to be pierced. For the aforesaid Reason, I shall not give you an Account of each Particular of the Day; but you may easily imagine, that there was never greater Magnanimity shown; for besides their Adroitness, and known Valours, most of them were before their Mistresses. But because it comes within the compass of my Story, it will not be amiss to tell you, That Chastillon was so heightened with the Sight of Madame de St. Maure, that he appeared far above himself. Just in the List under her, he unhorsed the Duke of Guise, who was not a little concerned to receive a Repulse from any Body, especially one of that Family. The Count won two Prizes at the Ring; but, Alas! in this Days Adventure, he lost a greater, his Heart; for no sooner had he seen Mademoiselle de Poitiers, but there appeared something so pleasing to him in her, that he had never seen in any Woman, but herself. He gazed upon her, and at every Look found something Delightful steal about his Heart; which made his Eyes unwilling ever to quit the Object. The Morning being thus passed, they all retired Home, to prepare themselves for a Ball at Night; for which there was great Preparations on all sides; every one seeming to vie with each other, who should appear with the greatest Lustre. The Countess de St. Maur's liking to Chastillon, was grown daily more and more upon her; and particularly, that Day he behaved himself so gallantly, that something whispered in her Soul, what she would have given the World not to have known: But, in spite of herself, it told her, That she loved. She wished a thousand times, he would declare his Passion; but then considering she was Married, a thousand contrary Wishes blotted the former out. At length, (being alone in her Closet) she fell to Prayers, hoping by Supernatural Means to regain her Freedom. But, Alas! her Heart and Tongue too much disagreed, to gain relief that way; for whilst her Mouth was offering Holy Prayers for Liberty, her contradicting Heart was wishing still to be a Slave. So pleasant were the Chains she wore. At length, almost distracted between Reason and Passion, from the Anguish of her Mind, she burst out into these Words: Alas! If Love be not a voluntary Motion, but far above our Reason to control, how can it be a Sin? Come all ye Pious Physicians of the Mind, who with your grave Advice, pretend to lead us to the Paths of Bliss, give me a Balm to cure this Wound; and then I'll say, You are Masters of your Art. But, Oh! you only bid us to be well: And, Alas! what Succor's that to her, who's raging in a Fever, unless you provide her too the Means to be so? Just as she was in the height of this Exclamation, one knocked at her Door, and told her, That the Count St. Laurans was without. When having a little composed herself, she went out to him. The first thing he said to her, he asked her, with an unusual Impatience, Who that was that sat nigh her? describing Mademoiselle de Poitiers. She immediately told him; and he frankly revealed to her, That since he saw her, he found a Change in himself, and a wonderful Desire to see her again; and that he was just going to Court, to try if he could (by any means) ingratiate himself into the Happiness of her Conversation; to see if her Soul was as rich in Perfections, as her Body; and so he left her to her painful Thoughts. Chastillon, who all this while was meditating what way to take, to put a period to his Love, resolved at length to declare his Love; for his Disease was now grown so desperate, that it was useless to apply moderate Remedies. He found he could not suffer more by her Anger, than he did by his Silence; for that Death would certainly be the Issue of One, and that he had a Chance to be Happy in the Other. Upon which Resolution he went strait to Court, to find out St. Laurans; with an Intention to tell him his Design; where he found him entertaining Mademoiselle de Poitiers; whom he had found in the Drawing-Room, standing by the Fire, with his Sister Mademoiselle D'aupre's, another of the Maids to the Daulphine-Queen. Chastillon entered into the Conversation; and, in a small time, Madam de St. Maure came in dressed for the Ball, with all the Advantages that could give to one, who was on all Occasions allowed the best dressed Woman of the Court. But, Alas! her Heart was heavy; she had a Weight of Grief hung at it, without the Power to vent it: For had she stayed at home, she would have disappointed the King and Queen, who depended upon her for to dance that Night. But though her Soul was all disquiet, her Face betrayed not the least Show of it: For that Dissimulation, which (they say) is natural to her Sex, only in this was kind to her, that she could command her Looks to be of a quite different Complexion from her Thoughts: But still it mitigated not her inward Pain. And it is one of the greatest Fines Heaven sets upon Greatness, that they are often forced before the World almost to burst with Secret Grief in silence; when the Vulgar may, unminded retire themselves, and by complaining, find some Ease. The Count had not much time with Mademoiselle de Poitiers; for every Body was crowding to admire her. Neither was this first Encounter advantageous to him; for of all the Men of the Court, she liked Chastillon much the best. The Ball lasted till it was very late; but as soon as it was done, Chastillon went home with the Count; to whom he told his Resolution to declare his Love. The Count replied: My dearest Friend, and after that I need not say, I love you. People are apt to judge according to the Event of Things, that there are few, to whom we ought to give Advice; especially in what concerns them so nearly, as (you say) this does you: But since it would appear unkind in me to deny you, I must freely tell you, I still advise you to rally your scattered Troops of conquered Reason, and once more try if you can overcome this Rebel Passion. But if he be so far Master of the Field, that you find all your Attempts are vain, than never make your Life a Misery; but tell her nobly of it, and end it as she shall determine. As for the First (replied Chastillon) my Reason is too far distracted, e'er to be reclaimed: Therefore, I will resolve upon the last, as soon as Fortune will permit me a favourable Moment. Big with this Resolution, he took his Leave of the Count; who all Night, instead of sound and undisturbed Sleep, found nothing but Slumbers hang upon his Eyes, full of fair Ideas proceeding from the bright Object he had seen that day. The next day he failed not to go see his Sister Mademoiselle D'aupre's, where he found both Madame de St. Maure, and Mademoiselle de Poitiers; which happy Adventure presently appeared to him, as a propitious Omen of his future Success. He passed most part of that Afternoon with them; and one may imagine, not a little to his Satisfaction. In which time he was industrious to make Madame de St. Maure, and Mademoiselle de Poitiers have equally a good Opinion of each other. And in this he was so far successful, that in a few days they were seldom seen asunder. That Evening, the Wether being extremely fair, they all four went out to walk together: When Madam de St. Maure, being earnest in Discourse with Mademoiselle D'aupre's, walked on a little before; and because they would not be interrupted, they passed into a By-walk; the Count and Mademoiselle de Poitiers following them at a distance. He being of a quite different Temper from his Friend Chastillon, soon found his Flame was increased by her Company, too high to be concealed, and the Opportunity too fair to be let slip; so resolved to tell her his Passion: For now the Pleasantness of her Conversation, as well as the Beauty of her Person, charmed him so, that he was no longer Master of himself. When she saw them, who went before, go out of the great Walk, she began to complain, that going by themselves, they should lose the Company, which to her was all the Pleasure of the Place. Madam, (replied the Count) You perchance have reason to complain; but for myself, I am too nigh Heaven, to think of any other Happiness. Pardon me, Madam, that I dare tell you, That I Love you, since it is in vain to hid that Flame, which in few Days would by my Death have been revealed, had I still smothered it in a Painful Silence. She knew not what to answer him, for she considered, how dangerous it was to enter into so sudden an Engagement with a Man she knew so little; and, on the other side, she was afraid, that if she should repulse him rudely, she should lose a Lover. For as Nature had given her so large a Portion of Beauty, she had given her no less a Share of Vanity; that she was even to that degree Coquette, as to be pleased with the rude Commendations of Footmen, as she passed out and in. So she only returned him this Answer: Sir, I confess, your Discourse came most unexpected to me; and as I own myself not insensible of a Virtuous and Noble Passion, I should be loath to place it on One, whose Ingratitude should force me afterwards to change it: And though you appear too Generous, to fall within the compass of this Suspicion; yet you must pardon the useful Cautions of One unpractised in the Art of Love. Therefore, I must return you no positive Answer, till Time shall instruct me, if I ought to hear you talk of Love. The Count, finding there was nothing, of a despair in what she said, was going to make her a Thousand Protestations of the truest Love that Tongue ever uttered, when Mademoiseble D'aupre's, seeing them behind at a distance, called 'em to come up; and walk with them. The Count perceiving, that his happy Opportunity was now past, and having no more time, but whilst they overtook the others; said, May I then Hope? I bade you not despair (said she) when I told you, That Time would instruct me, if I ought to hear you talk of Love. He waited upon them to their Lodgings; and afterward returned home more happy, than the greatest Conqueror on the Night of some important Victory: For he absolutely believed, having at first so favourable a Treaty, that the Beautiful Fortress would not hold out long. Besides, he thought, few Women of so free and open a Nature, as she was, had Power to withstand the Assiduity of a violent Passion. This made him from time to time pursue her, where e'er she went: He beheld no Day, that he passed not away most part of its douny Hours in her dear Company. In contradiction to his Nature, he often became Fantastically Childish to please her; and if he could but succeed in that, he cared not what the World said of him. He went strait, and reported all that had passed to Madame de St. Maure: He found her alone at home; for the Disquiet she was in, had made all People so insupportable to her, that she denied seeing every Body but himself. No sooner had he told her all that had happened in the Garden; but she, changing her Face, according to the Dictates of her Mind, which was all Confusion and Disorder, said to him; Tho' it be contrary to those severe Laws, that Powerful Custom has imposed upon us, to tell our secret Passions, (especially where Loves concerned) to any of another Sex; yet I dare so far confide in you, as to make you the only Physician of my troubled Thoughts, Oh! St. Laurans, within very few Weeks you knew me placed in the First Degree of Happiness. What interposing Fate, (replied the Count) hinders you from being so still? Pardon (said she) these confused Blushes, which waits upon my Shame, when I tell you, That 'tis Love which robs me of my Rest, and banishes from my Mind all thoughts of Quiet; and pity her; who, from the Excess of an unguided Passion, throws the bottom Secrets of her Soul before you, and owns to you, that, tho' she is Married to St. Maure, she Loves your Friend Chastillon to distraction; and, but that I am resolved to keep unstained the last Point of Duty, or die a Victim to my Passion, I had never let the mighty Secret fly from out my Breast. Therefore, make not too severe a Comment, if I have drowned the Name of Modesty, in that of Friend, in telling you with so little scruple of my Love. If you should, it would be unkind, since it only shows a Confidence I have in you, above the rest of the World; and few there are complain of Trust. Madam (answered the Count) have you considered? Yes, till I am mad (said she); for, Alas! I see my Duty placed above Me; and as I climb and climb to reach it, Love plucks me back again. Still, as she spoke, her words were interrupted by her Tears, and her Breast torn betwixt the different thoughts of Love and Duty. The Count, who perceived the Inconveniencies, that must arrive to them both from such an Amour, applied all his Power to break it; not by advising, nor railing at her Passion; for he knew, that was only Infant Love, which could be chid away; and theirs was grown strong enough, to Laugh at all such Remedies: Which made him think on a more violent, though a more dangerous way, and hazard the Name of Friend to serve his Friends. Madame, (said he) I believe, you thought I loved you well enough, to interest myself in all your Concerns, when you confided in me so weighty a Secret. Therefore, Madam, I must own myself doubly concerned in this; first, That you love at all; next, That you love a Man, who to my knowledge loves elsewhere. At which words, she fell backwards in her Chair; and, withal the violence of a distracted Passion, cried out, Oh! ye cruel Stars, do you heap Mountains upon Mountains of Misery, and all to over-whelm one weak Woman? Am I then deceived too? Then she told the Count, That she saw plainly by the Colours Chastillon wore the Day of the Tilting, and by other Marks and Signs, that he was in Love with some Woman, to whom he durst not declare it; and that she had been vain enough to think it was herself. Madame, (replied the Count) be assured, his Addresses proceed from his belief, that you love him; and therefore, they are rather Effects of his Vanity than Passion. After this the Count took his Leave, and went to find Chastillon, in order to the carrying on of his Design, leaving her in a more deplorable Condition, than he found her. He found him alone, pensive upon a Couch in his Closet, meditating upon the Excellencies of Madame de St. Maure. The Count sitting himself down by him, began to tell him, That he was sorry to bring him such unpleasing News, which he knew would so much disturb him; but being his Friend, he could not but tell him, That he was just then come from Madame de St. Maure; and that he had tried her always, to see if she had any Inclination for him: But he found all to the contrary. To which Chastillon answered, That no Man could be surprised at an expected Stroke; but that, that should not at all divert him from the Resolution he had taken, of revealing his Passion to her. They sat together, till it was Court-time; and then went thither, where they found Madame de St. Maure. Chastillon, failed not watching his Opportunity; and Fortune was quickly so kind, as to give him One. For Madame de St. Maure, leaving the Circle, went into the Balcony, pretending to cool herself; for the vast Company, which was at Court that Night, made the Heat almost insupportable. But the real Reason was, That the sight of Chastillon had put her into such a Confusion, concerning what the Count had told her, that she was afraid, lest some Body should perceive it. Chastillon soon followed her, to see if this would prove a favourable Minute to his Intentions; for his Love was now grown too impatient, to endure delay in any thing, that he thought might advance it. He found her alone, looking over the Balcony; but hearing some Body behind her, she turned about, and seeing who it was, her Disorder increased so much at the sight of him, that, had not the Darkness of the Night covered her, he had soon perceived her Frailty in her Face, inspite of all her Power to hid it. She was confounded, even beyond the Power of Wit to recover; for, lest he should suspect something extraordinary from her not speaking at all, or in the disordered manner, if she did, she catched at the foolish Occasion of a Light she saw in a distant Street, (which was only Straw, that playing Children set on Flame) to pretend to be afrightned, apprehending 'twas a House on Fire: But he, (after he had told her, what he thought it was, and that if it had been what she imagined, there would have been more noise in the Streets) said to her; Ah, Madam, since you are so much concerned in the Apprehension of a Fire, in which you have no particular Interest, but only because the poor afflicted Sufferers move your gentle Nature; I hope, your Pity will extend to me, who bears about me a real Flame, of which your Beauty is the only Cause. She returned him no Answer; but turning short about, passed through the Crowd down to her Coach; and so went Home, in a strange Perplexity. She left Chastillon in a deep Despair: He knew not which way next to move; for he concluded by her Carriage, that he had absolutely cast himself, without the utmost Verge of Hope. And now he believed, he should never see her more, but with Frowns upon her Face, which would be to him as so many Darts of Death: But still he resolved not to desist, till he had her Answer. The Count, who all this while lived in a doubtful Happiness, being she he loved had so little certainty in her Humour; for though by all Marks, and Appearances, he had the first place in her Affections; yet still she was so Prodigal of lesser Favours to others, that he knew not whither his Felicity was sure or no: And Love is of so ambitions a nature, that it is never satisfied with possessing the greatest Part, if it sees any Unconquered behind. Chastillon, who was thinking what way to take next, thought of going to visit Madam de St. Maure's Gentlewoman, (with whom by his frequent Visits to her Lady, he became particularly well acquainted) and see if he could find any thing from her, that could direct him which way to take. After much discourse, she confessed, that of late, she found her Lady much disturbed; and that often she has overheard her sigh, and name his Name. But she did believe her too good a Wife, to entertain a kind Opinion of any Man, but her Husband. From this he took new Fire, and resolved to try once more his Fortune, believing that his last Repulse might only be an Effect of her Modesty. Besides, the next time he saw her, when he expected to meet her full of Anger, she received him (having forced her Nature to obey) just as she used to do; thinking by that to make him believe, she did not hear what he said to her in the Balcony. But he construed this a quite different way from what she intended; for it only confirmed what he had heard before; which he believed, the Count had not been quicksighted enough, to discern. He sought now all Opportutunities, to tell her once more of his Love; which she perceiving, cunningly eluded: He seeing of it, and also the strange indiff'rence with which she spoke to him upon all Occasions, (scarce ever seen in those who love, for she never treated him above common Civility) made him begin to suspect, that he might be in a Mistake: But yet, however, he resolved to speak to her once more: And with much Pain and Diligence, having found her alone at Home; Ah, Madam! (said he) Will you permit me to die, and not cast one Favourable Look upon my Misery, which only proceeds from an Excess of Love for you? Sir, (replied she, interrupting him) I little thought to have heard this sort of Discourse from you; the only hearing whereof is so much contrary to Duty in me. But since I believe, your Error only proceeds from a Custom, that you Young Men have got amongst pou, of paying a Gallantry to some particular Woman. I will pardon you this first Rudeness; but swear, that if ever you use again the like Discourse, never to speak to you more. Believe me what I say; for the Texts of Holy Writ are not more true. All which she spoke with such a Calmness, that Chastillon was now confirmed of his Mistake; and she, to prevent what might follow, sent immediately for her Coach to go abroad, keeping still some of her Servants in the Room, till it was made ready. Now, none but those, who know the Force of Love, can judge with how much Torment she performed this mighty work; which we may well call so, since few besides herself could be able to have done it: And certainly, had she kept her Word, (considering the Violence of her Love) her Character might have been writ in the chief Records of Virtue. Chastillon now began to consider himself, as in a most desperate Disease; which made him think of as desperate Cure, and what would in a little time either bring him Death, or certain Health. Which was, That he would make his Addresses to some other Woman; and that if Madame de St. Maure had but the least Spark of Love for him, this would blow it up into a violent Flame: And none he thought so fit for this, as Mademoiselle de Poitiers. The Count having been so severe with Chastillon about his Love, was ashamed to tell him of his own: Which made him (by Error) run into a Breach of Friendship. He chose her to make his False Courtship to, first, because she was Beautiful, and for that reason every Body would be the apt to believe his pretended Flame to be true; next, because he found her Coquette enough, to receive his Court: And withal, she having so many Admirers, he might slip himself out of the Crowd when he would, and no body take notice of it. He lost no time, but went immediately into the Circle, where she was; and having singled her out, he approached her with the highest Flights of Gallantry; but never would declare a formal Passion, lest his Honour might suffer, when he should retreat. He took all occasions to be always in her Company; he followed her, and sought her from place to place: And she herself was so vain, that she never failed making his Addresses public by all possible means. This came quickly to the Ears of the Count, and Madame de St. Maure: As for him, whom Mademoiselle de Poitiers had beheld with a quite different Mine, since the Approaches of Chastillon, (for, as was said before, she liked Chastillon better than any body) he resolved not to make a Breach of Friendship for so light a Mistress, till he had tried all the Remedies that Reason should instruct him, to cure his Love. Madame de St. Maure conceived now, that all was true, which the Count had told her; and so looked upon herself, as the most Miserable of Women: For now the Shock appeared too great to be withstood; and she feared the Violence of her Mind would not only expose her to her Husband, but to all the World besides. She had a Thousand different Thoughts, which way to take; and, at length, she concluded, that if the Count (her Husband) came to perceive any thing of it, she would freely confess it all to him; and, as the last Proof of her Duty, offer him to leave the Court, and retire with him, and never see Chastillon more: To show him, that tho' she could not command her Affections, yet she could her Actions. But Fortune was kind to her, and sent a favourable War to her Relief: For Philip the Second, King of Spain, having raised a great Army in Flanders, with an intent to enter France, the Count de St. Maure was forced to retire himself to a Government he had in Picardy, where (they said) would be the Seat of the War. She took the Advantage of this lucky Event, and made her Trouble pass to the World under the false colour of his Departing; where she might reasonably believe, he might be in danger. Besides, she took this Pretence to retire herself from Court for some time, in hopes that Absence, like cooling Lenitives, might allay the raging of her Fever. She went to a Countryhouse she had, about two Leagues distant from Paris, upon the same Hill of St. Cloud, and about a League from it: It was Master of all the Prospect of that lovely Plain, where the Silver Scene so often spreads its wanton Arms in pleasing Meanders, to embrace the Earth. In the Middle of which is placed the Renowned City of Paris. At the Foot of the Hill, on which the House was seated, the River glided gently by, and the Descent from the House to it, was only spacious, and beautiful Gardens. Thither she went, and stayed some time; and found her Mind grew much more easy upon the Account of Chastillon: But, Alas! the Fire was only smothered, and not quenched. The Count St. Laurans, who began now to be convinced, that Mademoiselle de Poctiers had never had the least spark of Affection for him; but that her Beauty, like an Ignis Fatuus, had led him upon the very Brink of Ruin; now resolved wisely to shut his Eyes, and be no more seduced by that fair, deceitful Leader: But, like a wounded Tiger, he set a Resolution first to summon up all his Force, and spend his dying Fury on those, from whom he received the Wound. Therefore he went strait to her, with an intent to vent the overflowing of his Breast to her; and after that, to determine Love, or Life. But as soon as he saw her, Love grew Triumphant, and his Anger melted away, like Wax before the Fire, that he had only Power to say; Ah, Madam! Sure 'twas some angry Power, that placed your Beauty on the Earth; so infinitely Fair, and yet so Cruel, never was Woman seen before! You have no reason to accuse me of Cruelty, (said she) but you Men never fail laying the Fault on us, when you have a mind to break off Loving. By all that's Good, (replied the Count) I love you still so well, that the least kind Word you give particularly to me, comes more welcome, than a Reprieve to him that only waits the Stroke of Death. But, Madam, now you shed your Favours upon Others, while I lie covered with Despair. When Love (said she) becomes a Burden, throw it down; I consent; for I know, 'tis that you would be at: Else, why should you suspect me? 'Tis beyond Suspicion, that 'tis Day, when we see the Sun, (replied the Count) and your receiving Chastillon 's Love, is as Public. No Woman (answers she) lives without malicious Reports; and if you are so apt to believe them now, I shall have a happy time with you, if I Mary you. 'Tis true, I allowed your Love; but in that I did not tell you, That I would become your Slave. And this I tell you still; If you like me, I will permit you to Love on; but never pretend to govern my Actions. And, without hearing him reply, away she went; tho' he pressed her very hard, that she would but stay, and hear him speak. He knew not now what to conclude on; he found his Love was too great a Master on him, to be cast off; for it rather increased, than diminished: And now there was no way left, but to leave it to Time. He went to visit Madame de St. Maure, who he heard was come to Paris, to pay her Duty at the Court; and was to return back again the next day in the Morning. She invited the Count to go and dine with her; for there would be none of the Court left in Town: For the King had invited the Queen, and the rest of the Court, to go, and hunt down a Stag, that was grown Famous for his Age; and afterwards, to dine at Madrid, a House of the King's, about a League and half distant from Paris; which his Father, Francis the First, had built, to evade (by Equivocation) an Oath, that Necessity had obliged him to take. For Charles the Fifth, Emperor, and King of Spain, having taken him Prisoner, set him at Liberty, with this Condition, (besides some Ransom he paid) That he should visit Madrid (which is the Chief Town in Spain) once every Year. But when he was returned into his own Country again, he had this House built, and called it Madrid; and never failed going to it once a Year; fancying by this, that he satisfied the Duty of his Oath. As the Count St. Laurans, and Madame de St. Maure were passing through the * A Wood, that is called so. Bois de Bologne, they perceived at a distance a Man, and a Woman, walking together in a fine Path all alone, leading their Horses in their Hands. They saw by their Dresses, that they were People of Quality; and he appeared by the Posture of his Body, to be saying to her something above common Discourse: But when, drawing nearer, they perceived it was Chastillon, and Mademoiselle de Poitiers, it pierced them like Daggers to their Hearts. The King, and all the Court were road on before, in pursuit of the Stagg, which had led them a most toilsome Chase; insomuch that those Ladies, who not being used to Hunt, could not endure the Fatigue of the Day, were forced to stay, till the Coaches that were behind came up: Amongst which was Mademoiselle de Poitiers, who was so weary she could sit no longer on Horseback; and Chastillon, to carry on his Design, failed not to stay behind to wait upon her. As soon as the Count, and Madame de St. Maure overtook them, Mademoiselle de Poitiers thought to have excused her being found so alone with Chastillon, by telling the Reason of it; which the others took only for an Excuse. As for Madame de St. Maure, she kept her Countenance firm: But for the Count, (who had not the power to hid the least thing, that troubled him; but it appeared as lively in his Face, as if he told it) he looked with all the Marks of Anger and Despair; and immediately the Coaches coming up, Mademoiselle de Poitiers got in, and Chastillon upon his Horse; so, taking their Leaves, followed the Court. The Count de St. Laurans, and Madame de St. Maure, kept on their way; but with so strange an increase of Torment, that it even bordered upon Distraction. Chastillon now began to suspect, that he was still in the wrong; and that the Course he was taking, was but making his Condition worse, by the Evenness that he perceived in Madam de St. Maure's Countenance. Besides, he considered, he had to do with a Woman, that had Pride enough to cure her Love, if she had any. Therefore, now he resolved to rest all his Hopes upon one Adventure; and, if it falled, to leave the World, and breathe the remaining part of his unhappy Life in some unknown Retreat. The Expedient that pleased him best, was once more to seek an Opportunity to speak to her; and to desire her, to tell him, as a Woman of Honour, If she had the least Thought for him, that could tend to his Satisfaction. He lost no time; but that very Night went to Madame de St. Maure; and having appointed a Boat to meet him at the foot of the Garden, he passed over the River into it, knowing her Husband was from Home, and that by this time the Count would have left her, and that she herself would perhaps be come down into the Garden; and so he thought to have an Opportunity to speak to her. But when one considers the Extravagancy of the Undertaking, one may justly judge, he knew not what he thought. But however, Fortune so far helped him, that it became the most lucky of all his Designs; and this last rash Stroke finished his Work: Like to that excellent Painter, who when by all his Art and Pains he could not bring a Picture to his wont Perfection, by rashly throwing of his Pencil at it, made it the rarest Piece he ever wrought. He was scarcely entered the Garden, but he heard a Voice, towards which he went; and peeping through a sweet smelling Hedge, being set all round with Woodbine and Jessamine, saw the unfortunate Countess (sat in an Arbour) leaning upon her Arm: There hung over her Head a Canopy of Blossomed Woodbines, held up by unseen Supports; and the Place was all set round with Orange-Trees in Flowers: and just by her, on a small Ascent, was placed a large * A Waterwork. Cascade, which not being allowed to show its Waters but just above the Pipes, they fell gently murmuring down again upon the Stones. He forbore approaching of her, till he had stood, and observed her, to see if he could perceive any thing, on which he might ground his Hope, or might absolutely confirm his Despair. He scarce had stood a moment, but he heard her give a Sigh, as if she had yielded up her Soul; and with a torrent of Tears, cried out: Oh, cruel Love! all Powers but Thee reward their Votaries, and shower a thousand Blessings upon those, who with most Zeal obey their Laws: But Thou, with cruelty beyond the Lion, or the Tiger, only for the sake of Slaughter, destroyest even those who best do serve Thee. With blind Devotion at thy Altars I have daily offered up a thousand Sighs, a thousand Tears, a thousand tender Thoughts, to please Thee: and in return, go seek through thy unhappy Empire, and tell me, if there be one so Wretched as myself. Oh, Chastillon! Little dost thou think the Pains I bear: But, Alas! how canst thou, when thou dost not know I love thee, nor never shalt; or if thou didst, what would it avail, when thou art near thy dear de Poitiers? Chastillon was too much fired with what he had heard, to remain unobserved any longer: But with all the Eagerness of a Man, that was drawn from the lowest Ebb of Despair, to the Top of all his Hopes, threw himself at her Feet. Ah, Madam! (said he) be milder in your Opinion of one, that more than dies for love of you: And don't believe, that he can dote on Trash, when there is so much Excellence as yourself, for to attract his Love. She started up, and with a Face full of Confusion, and as much of Anger, as Love would give her leave, replied: Though you have, by a base Intrusion, heard me confess I Love; yet you shall have no other Advantage from it, but that it shall prove my Cure; for from this time, I will never speak to you more. Chastillon, who only desired her to hear him, kneeled down in the most submissive manner that could be: To which (insensibly overcome) she consented; which was the first Ground her Love got upon her Honour; and in those Fights he seldom gets the least Advantage, but he quickly beats the Other quite out of the Field. Madame, (said he) that I have loved you ever since I saw you, Heaven, and St. Laurans can bear me witness; and with a Flame so tender of your Honour, that I ne'er told it to any but him, in whom I knew I might confide; and, not intending to have revealed it even to yourself, I kept the swelling Passion labouring in my Bosom, till it quite destroyed my Reason: Then having lost that chief Director of my Actions, I presumed to tell you of my Love, when cruelly you turned away, denying (as I thought) my Words the least Accession to your Soul, as if they came to violate that Beauteous Shrine. Then again to your Ears I offered my Unhappy Love, when you doomed me to name it no more, or for ever lose the Blessing of your Conversation. Then (distracted in my Thoughts) I went, and feigned a Passion for Mademoiselle de Poitiers; which I thought, if you had the least tender Remembrance of me, would kindle it into Love: But when I saw, that all this was no Advantage to my Flame, by the Indifference that I read in your Looks the other day; I then, thrown down from all that I could call Happiness, resolved (like a losing Gamester, just upon his Ruin) to set all my Stock of Hope upon this last Cast; which, if I lose, I swear by that unmeasured Love I bear you, never to converse with Mankind more; but retire myself from that tedious Creature, and die alone. As soon as he had spoke, she threw herself back in her Chair; where she lay for a little while, without speaking: At length, she cried out: Oh Honour! Oh Love! How do ye divide my Soul! There she lay for some time weeping, and sighing; by which she showed the Combat of her Mind. Then afterward getting up, with a Voice more calm, she said: Be witness, this Flood of Tears, how strongly my Honour argues in the Right of Duty: But Love does plead so powerfully for Thee, Chastillon, that I must own it to Thee; which thou shouldst ne'er have known, hadst thou not thus pressed into my secret Thoughts. He leapt up; and kissing her Hand, replied: Those who are Mighty in Possessions, and are Masters of all their Wishes, are poor in Happiness, compared to me. When I hear you say, You Love, I am so Transported, methinks I have already left my Natural Dust behind me, and am in Heaven. She seeing him in such an Ecstasy of Joy, said: Moderate yourself, Chastillon, and keep your Passion within the Rules of Virtue, and I will still permit it; for know, that I am Married; and I will rather die, than entrench one step farther on my Duty. Ah, Madam! (said he) pardon the Extravagance of my Love; which as yet having known no Dwelling, but the dark Recesses of Despair, at the Approach of Glorious Happiness, is dazzled, and knows not what it does. But, Madam, fear not; for I will be more careful of your Honour, than I am of my own Life. Then after a thousand Marks of Love, and Joy, she said to him: St. Laurans, who knew of both our Loves, (for I also told him mine) discreetly, as I suppose, to break off what he perceived moved so fast to both our Disadvantages, was unfaithful in this, though otherwise the best of Friends: For he told me, You to his Knowledge loved another. Oh Heavens! (said he) and he told me, That you to his certain knowledge Loved not me. The Countess replied: He thought by a little Pain to have cured us both: But, Alas! he finds, by sad Experience, that Jealousy won't cure Love; for he parted just now from hence the most unhappy of Men: For seeing you to day alone with Mademoiselle de Poitiers,— Does he then admire her, said he? Yes (replied the Countess); but he told me, He durst not tell his Love to you; for he was too much ashamed. I wondered (said he) what made him so kind, to be so often at his Sisters? But now I find the Reason. Dear Chastillon, (said she, interrupting him) though it be pain in me to desire it, yet I must beg of you to leave me, and let not our Indiscretion make us again Unhappy. Madame, (said he) I obey you, and return so blessed above my Expectation, that as yet it seems but a Vision to me. Let me wait upon you to morrow, to confirm me it is true. You may come, and dine with me, (said she) and bring St. Laurans with you; and I will contrive to have Mademoiselle de Poitiers. Then, Madam, (said he) I will freely own to her, that all my Passion was but feigned; and so we will leave St. Laurans, and Her, to agree it together. Then after many Expressions of Love, much fuller of distracted Passion, than of Sense, they parted: She went into her Chamber, where we will leave her, though not without many Conflicts in her Mind; unsatisfied with what she had done, and yet pleased that she had done it. He returned back to Paris; and the first thing he did, he went to find out St. Laurans, who received him with an unwonted Coldness: He knew well enough the Reason; however he pressed him to tell him, what it was that sat so heavy upon his Mind, and seemed to direct at him? The Count answered him: You will not wonder at it, when I shall tell you, That I am not only so unhappy, as to be fallen into the Snares of Love; but that you (my Friend) are, since you changed your Love, become my Rival. Chastillon smiled, and said to him: Think but how much it is below the free and noble Nature of a Man, to be subject to the Weakness of a Woman; and then cast her from thee. The Count, remembering this was the Advice that he had given him before, said: 'Tis true, I knew not Love, when I gave thee this Advice. Chastillon would not keep him any longer in suspense, but unfolded all the Mystery to him; and withal, told him of his Success with Madame de St. Maure; and accused him severely of his false Dealing: Which he excused by the same Reasons, that Madam de St. Maure had alleged before; and promised to go with him to Morrow, to excuse himself also to her. So Chastillon left him, and went home to Bed. But the Count was not in the least more satisfied; for the Disturbance of his Mind did not so much arise from Chastillon's Loving her, as the belief he had, that she Loved him; which was not at all removed by what had been told him. But his Love being so far from cured, that it still increased, he resolved (in spite of her Unkindness) to try his Fate once more; believing, that Chastillon's leaving of her, might turn the Current of her Love on him. Therefore he resolved to take the first Opportunity to renew his Addresses to her; which he unexpectedly found the next Day, (for Chastillon had told him nothing of her being there) while Chastillon, and the Countess were minding their own Affairs. Mademoiselle de Poitiers, who now found how things stood between Chastillon, and her, (for he had freely confessed the Cheat he had put upon her) and finding that now there was no more hopes of him, received St. Laurans' Love; and was entrusted with the Secret of the Love there was between Chastillon, and the Countess of St. Maure. From this time, tho' she was Coquette to the last Degree, and even Inconstant beyond her Sex; yet for a great while, she loved the Count St. Laurans with a violent Flame. Thus they became each others Confidents, and as kind Instruments to promote each others Love. But, Alas! there wanted something yet to make this Union firm; for Mademoiselle de Poitiers retained still too much of her Old Humour, to enter into the Bonds of perfect Love: She still received the Courtship of all those who would make it to her; and would be pleased with the Admiration of all the contemned Fops of the Court; the pert, insipid, talking, dancing, dressing Fools, who doted upon any thing would give them leave, were all welcome to her, and always about her: Which made the Count St. Laurans so uneasy, that he began to think, that unless she would change herself in this, it would be the best for him to try once more, if he could desist from loving of her; for still he thought, that Love and Hate were in his Power, when he was absent from her. But her sight soon convinced him of his Error: Besides, he had now greater Hopes than ever; it growing so insupportable to him, to hear every where those Creatures boasting of her Favours. So one time he came to her, and freely told her, how prodigal she had been of her Graces; insomuch, that it grew a great torment to him, to hear so many bragging of her kind Returns to their Services. At which she grew into a violent Anger; and told him, That she had declared to him before, that tho' she permitted him to Love her, yet she would never make him Master of her Actions. That Reply raised the Count's Anger so much above his Love, that he swore, Unless she would quit that Humour, he would never speak to her more: And she, flinging away with a contemning Laugh, bade him keep his Word, if he could. This Carriage of hers had raised him into such a Fury, that he took so strong a Resolution, that for five Weeks he kept his Word. In all which time, when ere they met, they saluted each other with such a sad Formality, as if they were passing by to go contrary ways to Execution. By this time she began to soften, and would have submitted to any thing, but Speaking to him first. And to pass over that, she had no way but to pretend to Madame de St. Maure, (who she knew, would tell the Count again) that he, since their falling out, had ungenerously spoken basely of her. This she believed would bring the Count to vindicate himself; and so they might make up all again. Which Design took to her Wish; for in few days, the Court going to St. Cloud, where the Count and Mademoiselle de Poitiers went too with the Daulphine-Queen, he went one day to Paris, to visit some Friends of his; and returning in the Evening back again, he walked very thoughtfully along those Walks, that borders upon the River, where he found Mademoiselle de Poitiers all alone, having slipped away from the other Maids that were walking above. As soon as she perceived he saw her, she pretended to shun him; but he seeing it, went strait up to her: Madam, (said he) I did not think you would have held so injurious an Opinion of me, as to think, that I can rail at you, whom I love above my Life. She turned about hastily, and darting from her Eyes Rage (instead of Love) at him, broke out into these words: Traitor, base, inhuman Man, shame of thy Sex, and Curse to me, who love thee! Think, how you drew me to it by a thousand Oaths and Promises, which (in a moment) for one rash Word, you have broke! By your delusive Arts, you led me to a high and slippery Precipice, than left me alone to fall headlong into my Grave. Now consider thy own Ingratitude, then blush to look upon me. Madame, (said he) 'tis only for those who are Guilty, to blush; but for me, who protest myself innocent of any thing either spoken, or thought against you: I can only tell you, That your Informations have been all most notoriously false: And to show, that what I say is true, here I swear and vow, never to love any but yourself, if you will only condescend to my last Request: Which she (after much railing at his Ingratitude) yielded to; and withal, gave him much greater marks of her Love, than she had ever done before. She went strait that night, and supped with Madam de St. Maure, to whom she told all that had passed; at which she extremely rejoiced; for she had been in great pain, lest the Breach between them, might be a means to publish her Love to Chastillon. They lived thus, and enjoyed (for a great while undisturbed) the Sweets of Love; and, as they thought, unobserved: But the continual fantastical Quarrels, that happened between the Count de St. Laurans, and Mademoiselle de Poitiers, were causes of much Unhappiness to them all afterwards; for they gave occasion to the World to search deeper into their Actions; and so to perceive the Kindness, that there was between Chastillon, and the Countess de St. Maure. For many People had been endeavouring to plumb the bottom of both the Count St. Lauran's, and Mademoiselle de Poictier's five Weeks sadness; and especially those, who were concerned on either side: Which was the Beginning of their ensuing Troubles. End of the First Part.