The PENITENT HERMIT: OR, THE FRUITS OF jealousy.  
Being a True and Witty Relation of a pleasant Adventure written by a Lady to a duchess.  
In Two Parts complete.  

licenced.  
Feb. 7. 1678/ 9. Roger L'Estrange   
LONDON, Printed for William Cademan, at the Sign of the Popes head in the new Exchange in the Strand, 1679.   

THE Penitent Hermit. OR The Fruits of jealousy.  

The First Part.  
I Shall always be joyful to obey your commands, Madam, but have a double obligation at present, to perform your last, wherein you desire, that I should give you an exact information of all that concerns the Hermit of T. Because I am confident that the relation of it will afford you some short divertisement. I should only wish, Madam, that the manner of writing might not lessen the beauty of the Subject; but instead of politeness and flourish, which are Talents not to be found in this country; I dare assure you, that this relation shall want nothing of exactness and sincerity; and hope that the commands you have laid upon me, not to omit any particularity, will incline you to pardon the length of this Letter. And I doubt not, but your satisfaction will be so great to see a man of quality, in so corrupt an age as ours, by retirement and pennance, imitate the fervour of the Primitive Anchorites; that that alone will move you to excuse a great many escapes in the writing.  
You must know then, Madam, that the Hermit of T. who, for the space of a year, went by no other name, came to this Desert in the could of Winter, in the year one thousand six hundred and seventy four, you are not ignorant that this country is exceeding could, and especially the Hilly-places, one of these he choose for his retirement, on the top of which there is a spacious grot formed by nature in a Rock, which our Hermit so ordered, that though a man could not commodiously dwell in it, yet He might live there secure From the danger of wild beasts.  
So soon as the people of the neighbouring Villages understood that there lived a man in that Desert, they were much surprised: but their surprise turned to admiration, when they observed all the actions of the Hermit, seeing him led a life more like an Angel than a mortal man; his Apparel was very mean, and used no other food but bread and water, buying all his bread, though it was offered him gratis: He made answer still to those that would have bestowed it on him, that it was not his intention to rob the Alms that belonged to those who were really poor. He never came out of his grot, but to go to the next Church, and behaved himself in that holy place with wonderful reverence and devotion, the rest of the days he spent in reading, prayer, or at work, in a little Garden, which he had made over his grot. The rumour of this so extraordinary a thing, was quickly spread abroad over all the Province; so that many persons of quality came to see the Hermit. He on the other hand with much civility  told them that he preferred his sollitude, to all the honours that they were willing to render him, and that if he had had a purpose to have continued still in the hurry of the World, he would not have betaken himself to such a retirement: yet it was easy to be perceived, notwithstanding of his natural sweetness of disposition, that his mind lay under some violent discontent. Amongst so many, whom curosity invited to the Hermits grot, some there were who thought fit to censure that way of living; which how pure and blameless so ever, yet seemed to them unreasonable upon no other account, but because it was not in fashion: they discoursed to him on that matter; and he received the advice with a self denied humility, thinking it enough to answer those, who took the pains to counsel him, that he besought them to examine all his actions, and to reprove him when he did amiss, that he was ready to take in good part what ever correction might be given him; but that for his manner of life, there was nothing faulty in it; and that he had not followed that course without consulting those who had greater knowledge than himself: that modest answer; for some time stopped the mouths of those that spoken to him on that subject: but seeing the humour of such as make it their business to examine the actions of other men, give not over easily, they thought fit to urge the Hermit to declare his true name. He received that attack with the same tranquillity as the former; thinking it sufficient to Answer, that it had been always his opinion, that it was lawful for all men, to endeavour to procure their own happiness; and seeing the greatest good, that is to be attained, was salvation, he thought he might be suffered to work it out, without the trouble of unnecessary avocations. He  told them again, that they should make it their business to reprove him, when he was guilty of any thing blame worthy; but that his name and quality ought to be a thing indifferent to all men.  
Matters were in this State, when monsieur de M. whose merit and quality you know, came to Terrasson: you are not ignorant, Madam, that he hath generously forsaken the World, that he may with more freedom mind his own salvation; but was obliged for the better ordering of his domestic affairs to to come into this place. He was no sooner come hither, but that he was informed of the wonderful life, which the Hermit led; and though the report made him very desirous to be known to him, yet he would not go to visit him, until he had first sent to ask his leave; our Hermit, whom the Deserts had not rendered haggard, made him such an answer as might be expected from a most accomplished person; which obliged monsieur de M. to wait upon him that very day; who, after an hours conversation, confessed that he had never met with a man of greater devotion and wit: on this occasion the Hermit did that which he had never done before since his retirement, he repaid the visit which he had received; and all the discourse which he had then with monsieur de M. as well as the first time ran upon the contempt of the World, on the difficulty of working out our salvation therein, and how the things which appear to us most innocent, may become criminal, by the way that men apply themselves to them: the Hermit spake of that with so much fervency, that it was easy to be perceived that he was convinced of the truth of what he said: and having exhorted his friend to confirm himself in the contempt which he testified of the World; they mutually before parting promised a constant and sincere friendship: it was no hard matter to unite two hearts, which were wholly devoted to the service of God, and had no other aim but the thoughts of Salvation; and seeing Charity is one of those works which are most acceptable to God, monsieur de M. caused a bed and some other things to be carried to the Hermits grot to render his abode there somewhat more commodious during the rigour of the Winter, which was so sharp in that Rock, that a man, who continued constantly there, was in danger of contracting some mortal distemper: the Hermit made great difficulty to accept the present; and seemed more addicted to his own thoughts than to all the reasons that were alleged: to bring him to a consent, but after a profound musing, well then! Good God, said he, it is just that I should preserve my miserable life, seeing how wretched so ever it be; I am to be accountable for it to— At these words he stopped, excusing himself to those before whom he spake them: and stood so close to his guard for the future, that when he was obliged to admit of visits, it was easily perceived, that he strictly observed himself in his discourse.  
When monsieur de M. had put an end to the affairs that brought him into this country, he went and took leave of his friend, offering him in his absence all the services which he might desire of him, in a place where he had absolute power: though he accepted none of his offers, yet he testified as much gratitude for them, as if he had intended to have used them: at that time I was at Terrasson, and prayed monsieur de M. to bring me to a sight of that Hermit: he made some difficulty to do it, because the onely favour that he had begged from him at parting, was, that he would hinder him as much as he could from being burdened by needless visits: yet he was willing to condescend to my entreaty, and caused me to be conducted to the Hermits grot, who received me with his 〈…〉 al civility; and seeing I put no indiscreet question to him, and stayed but half an hour, I gave him less trouble than most part of those that went to see him, and I was  told that he appeared less disturbed at my visit than he used to be; for my own part, Madam, I was so affencted with what I discovered in that man, that I could not forbear to give you some account of it, and since the Letter, which I had the honour at that time to writ to you, there hath happened the strangest adventure that ever was.  
On Easter day in the year one thousand six hundred and seventy six, came to Terrasson an equipage consisting of two Litters, three men on horse back, and some footmen in Livery; in one of the Litters was a Lady, who seemed to be about five and thirty years of age, and notwithstanding the paleness and melancholy of her looks, gave sufficient evidence, that she had been a most lovely person; she had with her a young Maid about twelve or thirteen years old of surprising beauty, in the other Litter were some serving Maids, and all alighted at an Inn; so soon as they arrived, she, who seemed to be the Mistress of the Company, sent to entreat the Curate of Terrasson to come to her. She discoursed with him an hour in private, and  shed many tears during the conversation; and when the Curate took leave of her, she prayed him to come to her again next morning by six of the Clock: the night she spent in disquieting thoughts, and so soon as it was day, took her Litter, and accompanied only with that fair young Lady, and a man on horseback, she sent to give the Curate notice; and all together went streight to the grot, the Hermit was still about his morning Prayers, when they knocked at the door of his Cell; he opened it, and came out to meet those who were come to see him; but his surprise was great when at the first step he made out of his Rock he saw these two Ladies fall upon his neck, and melting in tears embrace him that action so unexpected, made him retire two steps backward, and look about him more attentively: but nothing can approach his amazement, when he discovered that these two were the persons in the World whom he most tenderly loved; that sight put him in so great disorder that he wanted strength to stand; so that freeing himself from the embraces of those two afflicted beauties, he went and fell on his knees hard by the door of his Cell; where lifting his eyes and hands to Heaven: O God! cried he, strengthen me, and let me not succumb in a conflict wherein I engage onely for thy glory, or to say better, give me power to complete a Pennance which bears but little or no proportion to the greatness of my Crimes: having said so he held his peace; and found himself in so great an agitation of mind that he had almost fainted away; that accident, which on any other occasion would have afflicted those two Ladies, wrought in them a secret joy, seeing it was a sign that he, of whom they had come in search with so much care, was not a little moved in seeing of them. They were solicitous in assisting that dear patient, who, being a little come to himself again, beholded the Lady that was by him with a countenance showing some marks of shane and confusion. Is it possible, Madam, said he to her; that you have still so much kindness for me, after the crimes I have committed, as to incline you to expose yourself to the fatigues of a tedious Journey, in the search of a wretch; or ought not I to fear, that having so just a cause of anger, you come to heap upon me reproaches, which how bitter so ever, cannot but be just. The Lady, to whom he addressed these words, by her actions gave evidence, that neither anger nor resentment had given any occasion to her Journey. She cast her self at the feet of the Hermit, telling him that she was criminal, and that her imprudence had been the cause of all their misfortunes, that she sought after him to implore his pardon, and that she would never leave him, till she had obtained it. The Man, who waited on the Lady, and appeared a Person of discretion, knowing that their Conversation ought not to be public, prayed the Company present, to withdraw a little, and to give liberty to those, who had more to discourse of together, than was convenient to be said before witnesses. The conversation of the Hermit and Lady lasted above five hours, and she had never been willing to have broken it up so soon, if she had not feared, that the young Lady, who came with her, and who was her Daughter, might be incommoded by fasting so long. When they took their leave of the Hermit, he promised to do all that lay in his power to give them the satisfaction which they desired; but that he would be glad to have the rest of the day, and the whole night to resolve in: and they knowing his humour, durst not urge him further. He earnestly entreated them to go and take their repose, thinking that they needed it. And therefore they returned, praying Heaven to favour their journey with a happy success. But the time of their Crosses was not as yet at a period, and their patience was still to be exposed to more severe trials, as you shall see in the sequel of my Discourse. The two Ladies spent that night as the former in trouble and anxiety; and so soon as it was day returned again to the Hermitage; they found the door shut, and durst not knock at first; but having waited there a pretty while, they made a little noise, that they might engage him, whom they thought to be within, to answer; that likewise having no effect; the young Lady grew impatient; and going to the door, as she stooped to look in, she saw a paper lying at her foot, wherein were these words written with charcoal;  

IF the constraint, that I put upon myself in forsaking you, were known to yourself, I am persuaded you would pity me; I have never had the power to tell you, that the Pennance I have enjoined myself, is not to end before Christmas; but seeing I cannot dispose of myself without your consent, I am going to entreat a Person of great merit, to take the pains to learn your sentiments. I know you are so good, that I dare hope you will not deny me the time, that I praefix; when that is over, I swear by all that is sacred, that I shall come to you, and spend the rest of my dayes in your Company. I need not, I think, recommend to you the care of our Children, seeing one, who has never failed in the smallest duty of Friendship, will not be wanting in the greatest: the onely thing, which I most earnestly recommend to you, is that you would have a care of your health, which is a thousand times dearer to me, than my life.   
I shall not tell you, Madam, how great affliction these two lovely Persons felt, at the reading of that Letter; you may guess at their sorrow by the pains they took to find the Hermit; which wrought so upon them, that they were carried back to their Lodgings rather dead than alive. Whilst they were abandoning themselves to grief, he that was the cause of it, took the way to a house of mine, about three leagues from Terrasson. I was not a little surprised, when one of my Servants came and  told me, that the Hermit desired to speak with me in private.  
Having ordered him to be let into a Garden where I was, I came and received him, testifying to him my gratitude for the honour he was pleased to do me; but he suffered me not to conclude what I intended to say. When you have well known me, Madam, said he, you will not retain for me the esteem wherewith you seem to honour me; I come hither to implore your assistance, on a very important occasion, seeing the interest of what is dearest to me in this world is therein concerned: Know then, Madam, that that Hermit, whom you have taken to be a man of exemplary piety, is a Malefactor, come hither to seek a refuge, and bewail his sins in a Country remote from the place where he hath committed them; I was born in Provence, of a considerable Family; yea, and I might say, that I might have enjoyed all happiness, had not jealousy set me upon actions, which can admit of no excuse. I have a Wife, who by an extraordinary goodness, so far from entertaining any grudge or resentment against me, has exposed herself to the fatigues of a long and tedious journey to come in search of me; she is at present at Terrasson, and, I believe, in extreme sorrow; for having yesterday put her in hopes, that I might return home with her, and having begged of her to give me some time to bring myself to a final determination, as to what I should do; I have, after more mature consideration, thought myself obliged to fulfil a vow which I have made, and which does not expire till christmas. This morning, before I came hither, I left a Letter, to acquaint her with my resolution, and have even taken the boldness, Madam, to tell her, that I was going to pray a Person of exceeding great merit, to allow her protection in this Country, and to inform her more at length of my thoughts, which are, that if my entreaties cannot prevail upon her, you would be so good to let me know it, at the place where I shall tarry until you be pleased to sand me news. Tho the Discourse which I have  told you was pretty long, yet I had not the least thought of interrupting him. I was so surprised at what I heard, that I had no other thoughts but to learn a clear information of an adventure, which seemed to me very extraordinary; but when it behoved me to answer, I  told the Hermit, that he was not mistaken, when he thought that I would be joyful to render him all kind of services; and I did what I could to incline him to give me a particular account of what he had onely  told me in general: but I perceived that he desired not to engage on that subject. All that I could learn of him was, that he was descended of that illustrious Family of Belges, so famous in Provence, and that he was the Count of Freslon. After our discourse I desired him to walk in into the house, but he excused himself; so that I perceived it would have been indiscretion in me to press him any more. In all his discourse he expressed to me a great tenderness for his Lady; and therefore so soon as he was gone, I made ready to go to Terrasson: when I came there, I was conducted to the Lodgings of the Countess of Freslon, and sent to know if I might wait upon her: She thought at first, that curiosity had moved me to make that little journey, but she was not a little surprised, when I sent her word by one of her Men, that I had matters of importance to impart to her. She presently thought, by reason of the Letter, which her Husband had left, that it must be somewhat concerning him. She sent mademoiselle, her Daughter, to meet me, who prayed me to come up into her Chamber. I found her in bed under such grief and affliction, as might have moved the hardest heart to pity. I shall not trouble you, Madam, with a relation of all that might be said in such a Case. I exhorted her, with all the rhetoric I had, to take patience. I shall not excuse, Madam, said she, melting in tears, the weakness which you observe in me. There are some occasions, wherein steadfastness comes near to barbarity; and to let you know, that no person ever had so great cause of affliction, I shall not stick to tell you all that hath befallen me, both before and since my marriage. The confidence, that monsieur de Freslon hath reposed on you, warrants mine, when you shall be pleased to signify to me, that you are at leisure to hear the Relation. I assured the Countess, that I was so much concerned therein, that I should be always extremely satisfied to be informed of her affairs; but that I thought it, before all other things necessary, that she should leave a place, where she could not but be weary much incommoded. I offered her the use of my house. She thanked me for the favour, but, I believe, would not have accepted it, if I had not  told her, to make her consent, that perhaps her Husband might let me hear from him again. This last reason prevailed more with her than all the rest. I resolved not to leave her, but to have her with me. She left all her Equipage in the place where she was; and having come into my Coach, with the young Lady her Daughter, and two Maids to attend them, they came with me to my house. By the discourse which we had together, I found, that that Provencial Countess was very wity: and I was not willing that evening, to engage her in the Relation of her Adventures; for seeing I am not so curious as the Heroins of Romances, I had rather sup and go to rest, than spend the night in hearing a Story. Next morning just as I was going to the Ladies Chamber, I had a Letter brought me from the Count of Freslon, wherein he sent me word, that having well consulted, and reflected on all the reasons, that his Lady had urged to him, to oblige him to return home, with those that I had alleged on the same subject, he thought himself unable to deliberate alone on a matter of that importance, and that he was going to advice with some of eminent knowledge and Piety, that he might from them take his measures, as to what he ought to do, and that he would let me hear from him as speedily as he could. This Letter I carried to the Countess; who was over joyed to find that her Husband was not so very steadfast in his resolutions as she had apprehended. So soon as we had dined, I prayed her to keep her promise; and having conducted her into my Closet, she, without further Ceremony, thus began her discourse.  

THE HISTORY OF THE HERMIT  
SInce the Relation that I am to give you, Madam, is really true, I suppose, you do not expect to find it so divertising, and stuffed with such extraordinary Adventures, as if it were a devised Tale. I shall not trouble you with a great many unnecessary things, neither do I promise to be so succinct, as I ought to be, for I am very sensible, that I am often transported with pleasure, when I fall into the discourse of a Husband, who is so dear to me. I need not tell you his birth, since he hath discovered to you his Name; you know that his extraction is illustrious, seeing he springs from a House, which hath given many Counts to Provence. He is not the eldest of the Family, he had two Brothers and several Sisters; he was designed to be a Knight of Maltha, and having been admitted at the same time with one of his Brothers seven or eight years older than he; the elder of these two Knights carried the name of Freslon, and the younger that of the Family, being of a very sweet and mildred disposition, and fit for study, his Father changed the resolution, that he had taken of sending him to be a page. to the great Master, and designed him for his Studies until he grew strong enough to be able to perform his Caravans. He was sent to Arles, and boarded in a Citizens house, there he applied himself to all that he was set about with such success as surpassed the expectation of his Masters The Man with whom he boarded, had a Daughter much about the age of the Chevalier de Belges. She was pretty enough, though her features were no way regular, but a fine skin, white teeth, and lovely hair, rendered her very agreeable: it may be said, that her wit was greater than has ever been known of any of her Age. It had been good for her, that she had had less of that, and more of reservedness and discretion. Never was Maid more adventurous, nor of quicker apprehension. She learned Italian and latin by observing the Lessons that were given to the Chevalier, with whom she was frequently in company. But whilst she was busied in learning strange languages, Master Cupid gave himself the pains to teach her how to love. Felicia( for so she was called) found the Boarder so fully to her mind, that she could not forbear to love him. For his part, tho he had no great inclination for her at first, yet he took delight in her company, and( if I may say so) fell at length insensibly in love with her. You know, Madam, that the passions of people of that age are not usually violent; and therefore I shall not trouble you with a particular Relation of all that passed between them, for the space of three or four years; I must only tell you, that as Felicia grew in age, her flamme increased; and there happened at that time an adventure, which served much to augment it. You are not ignorant, that all Provence over, people are much addicted to Horoscopes; which makes a great many give out, that they are skilful in a Science, wherein few have ever understood any thing. There arrived at Arles a man of much reputation for the mathematics; and was especially reckoned a great Astrologer. Seeing he was not to stay long there, all people were eager to see him. Many young Students of Quality went to wait on him; and some dayes before he was to leave the place, he repaid the visits which he had received. The Chevalier de Belges was in a Garden with five or six of his Comrades, the day that the Astrologer came to visit him: and the Master of the house, who was in discourse with another man of age and learning, drew near to the young Gentlemen, that he might assist them in receiving he visit of that able Mathematician. His conversation was at first about very indifferent matters; but seeing men of learning turn always their discourse to high, and sublime things, after several others they fell at length to talk of Astrology. The old-man, who was with Felicia's Father, and who tampered a little with the Stars, obstinately maintained the infallibility of that Science. But the Stranger, who was far more skilful than he, said, that there needed so many circumstances to ground a solid judgement on matters, which could not be known but by conjecture, that he was persuaded no body should apply himself to it. He spake afterwards in so modest and reserved terms, that it was easy to be perceived, that he had no great desire to make known his skill, though the Company begged it of him, and put to him several questions. Sometime after the Company departed, came a Woman to inquire for the Chevalier. Felicia, who always carefully observed all that concerned her Lover, endeavoured to discover what the Woman had to say to him: but her curiosity was changed into perplexity, when she found, that they discoursed in private: she had a mind to ask an account of the matter, and her quick and mistrustful imagination made her spend some very bad hours, tho in reality she had no ground for it: For that Woman, who lived with her in whose house the Stranger lodged, came to tell the Chevalier in his name, that if he was very curious to know any thing of his Fortunes, he offered him that satisfaction, on condition it might be done with secrecy, so that he might not be importuned with a great many, whom he had neither time, nor a mind to satisfy. The Chevalier joyfully accepted the offer, and agreed, that next morning he should come down into a Summer-house of a Garden of the same house; which had a door, that opened into a little Lane. The Chevalier took the key, Felicia perceived it, and that so increased her jealousies, that she spent the whole night at the Window, that she might see when the Chevalier went out. No sooner began the day to break, but she perceived him in the Court undressed. Down she came; and having followed him at a distance, and without noise, she hide her self near the Window of the Summer-house, amongst some bushes of jesamin, and so placed her self that she might see without being seen. Her joy and surprise was very great, when she perceived, that instead of what she suspected, all these intrigues were only managed for obtaining an opportunity to speak with the old Astrologer: she resolved to pursue her curiosity to a point, and having drawn a little nearer, because she could not hear where she was, she over heard these words. If the Goods of Fortune can render you happy, you may have ground to be satisfied, seeing you are certainly to enjoy a large share of them: but if that blind Goddess be favourable to you, Cupid in revenge will work you much mischief, or to say better, you will occasion to yourself a great deal, by giving way to violent extremities. There is indeed such a confusion in that matter, that I cannot unriddle it; all that I can know of certainty, is that you shall mary one whose fortune shall wholly depend on you. You shall meet with great crosses both before and after you marriage, and your greatest misfortune shall come from a woman with whom you shall be in love; and she likewise most passionately with you, besides I find that you are to have for some time a misunderstanding with her who shall be dearest to you: but she at length will give you proofs of so tender affection, and shall undertake so much on your account, that you shall be again reconciled in a time when it shall be least expected by both, the greatest puzzle I meet with, is to perceive that you shall fall into a fearful jealousy, and to find that at the same time, she who shall resign her self to you, shall never admit of my Rival in your love. I see no across in all your life that shall be caused to you by men; yet I cannot forbear to tell you, that I have never met with any thing more obscure and confused than what I observe in your fortune: for you have a signature that might make one judge assuredly, that you are to be of a religious order, and nevertheless it is certain you shall be married, I can tell you no more; and I doubt not, but you will think all that I have  told you extravagant. I am not surprised at it, for, I confess, I understand it not myself, and I find so great contradictions in the accidents of your life, that I lose myself when I dive into them. Having said so he held his peace, and left the two persons before whom he had spoken very little satisfied with his art, having not so much as found one word of sense in all his discourse. He for whom it was made thanked him very civilly for the pains he had taken, and excused the obscurity of his words by the uncertainty of future events, it being the will of God that we should not be able to penerate into his secrets, nor to know his methods with us in this World.  
I doubt not, Madam, but you will think, that I have spent much time in relating to you a very trivial matter; but it will not seem so to you, when you have understood the sequel of this discourse. I must tell you then that Felicia being in an alley, which butted on the Arbour of Orange trees, heard all that was  told her lover. She presently applied all to her self, believing that she was the person whose fortune he was to make by marriage. Nor did she doubt but that the execution of that design would meet with a great many crosses; but that seemed no difficulty to her: for it was her humour not to love a good fortune, if it did not cost her cares, trouble, and intrigues. At night, when she saw the Chevalier again, she hinted to him that she knew somewhat of that which had been  told him in the Garden. I know not, said she to him, if I ought to congratulate with you for the blessings which fortune promises you, or bewail the crosses which you are to meet with in those very affairs wherein, in my opinion, the heart is extremely sensible: but however it be do me but in the least justice, and you shall have no cause to doubt of my sentiments in every thing that concerns you. I give so little Faith to all that is called Horoscope, answered the Chevalier, and besides there is so little reason in that which has been  told me to day, that I have not in the least minded it. But, continued he with an air that spake more gallantry than passion, if any thing can make me give faith to what has been  told me, it is that I find already in my heart that violent flamme which is to set me on the performance of so many things; and I suppose you already guess at all the pains that I shall thereby suffer hereafter. Some that came into the Chamber where Felicia was, interrupted this conversation; and that did not a little vex her: for she impatiently longed to make the Chevalier explain himself, as to the share which she hoped to have in his fortune. Shortly after this, Madam, there befell the Chevalier a very considerable misfortune; I mean the death of my Lady his Mother. She was a Lady of great worth, and cherished her Children with all imaginable care and affection. The young Gentleman was sensibly affencted with his loss, and it was not long before he felt the greatness of it by a sad experience. For his Father, by too common a piece of injustice cast his eyes and care upon his eldest Son onely; and even believed, that he wronged him, if he divided his kindness amongst his other Children. As he was a man, who was altogether taken up with his pleasures, so he never meddled with his domestic affairs, his Lady had always discharged that care. His Children therefore found experimentally the loss they had sustained; for by degrees their Father omitted to sand them what was necessary, at first he neglected only the expenses that were allowed for their curiosities and pleasures: but by piece and piece began to forget to sand supplies to their necessities. The Chevalier Belges, who who was of a liberal and generous disposition, suffered that tour with very great impatience; and fell thereby into a fit of melancholy, that wholly altered his humour. Felicia was one of the first, that took notice of it, whether it was by the frequent Conversation they had together, or by the concern, that she took to her self in the matter. On this occasion she fell into the thoughts, which are but too common to the most part of those who would vie in love. I mean, to desire that our Friends might meet with some across, provided it may furnish us with opportunities to render them considerable services. Felicia having gone to the Chevalier, tenderly upbraided him for concealing the cause of his vexation. The Chevalier excused himself with some silly reasons, and at length  told Felicia, that it would be a bad acknowledgement of the obliging interest, which she had in him, to burden her with a troublesone confidence. I should have hoped, said Felicia, that I might not have stood in need of so much sagacity, and that you would not have made a Mystery of a thing, which I desire not to conjecture, but that I may remedy it to your own satisfaction: I should have been more obliged to you, if you had been free with me, than if you had bestowed upon me a Crown; but seeing the matter is otherwise, I shall not trouble you with greater reproaches, only I desire, that you would accept of what I offer, if you would calm this bad humour into which the little confidence you have shewed me on this occasion, hath put me. With these words Felicia presented the Chevalier with a purse lined with a considerable sum of money, he was very loathe to accept of it, and it cost her many entreaties before she could persuade him to accept of a little, whereof she knew his need was indispensible. I know not, said she, what reason you have to be so ceremonious with me: But if it be true, as your words, and above all my heart persuades me, that I am one day to be so sensibly obliged to you, deprive me not of the pleasure of showing you some small acknowledgement in advance, and believe, that all that I have hitherto done, and all that for the future I can do, is to procure myself a happiness, which I desire more than my life: you doubt not, I suppose, added she, of the tender affection, that I bear you; but possibly you have been hitherto ignorant, that I am the most ambitious Maid in the World; for to be short, your Quality alone without your Merit, was enough to dispose me to favour you, and your Merit alone without your Quality could inspire into me a tender affection; judge then what inclinations I ought to have for one in whom I find all that my heart can desire.  
The Chevalier made answer in terms expressing more of wit and civility than passion. But they, who are truly in love, have not always such discerning eyes as to perceive, whether they be beloved or not; and tho that be the most important concern of life, yet we are pleased to be beguiled by those whom we love; and our Reason is always the Fop of our Heart, tho we would persuade ourselves, that it is the Mistress. When the Chevalier was alone by himself, he reflected seriously on all the proceedings of Felicia. The hope that she had testified to him of being one day his Wife, lessened in his mind much of the value of what she did for him. He thought not himself obliged to have so great an esteem for that which flowed from a principle of interest, as for that which springs from a source of Generosity and affection. From that time he endeavoured dexterously to insinuate to the Maid, that the inclination, that he had for her, would never led him so far as she believed. He had not so much time as he expected, to succeed in that design; for some few dayes after that conversation, whereof I have been speaking, he had news that his elder brother was killed in the Army, and that his Father was so sensibly touched with the loss, that his life was in danger. This advice obliged him to make ready to go see him. Felicia used all her endeavours to divert him from a journey, which put her in extreme affliction: But notwithstanding of all her discontents, she felt some secret joy, when she considered that the predictions made to the Chevalier began to be fulfilled. You are not ignorant, Madam, that in such conjunctures as the Chevalier was in at that time, there is need of money for a great many things. Felicia offered him some with the same earnestness as at first. He accepted so little of it, that she well perceived so final a sum could not do his business: she went therefore to a Banker, who had a correspondance at Maltha; and having delivered him four hundred Pistols, prayed him to go to the Chevalier de Belges, and tell him that he had received orders from the Chevalier de Freslon his Brother, who was at Maltha, to pay him in that money: The Banker punctually performed what he was desired to do; but the Chevalier being much surprised to receive such assistance from his Brother, not only because he had received no Letters from him, but also because he believed him short of money as well as himself; presently  told the Banker that he was mistaken; but the man having assured him of the contrary,  told him to remove all his scruples, that he had intelligence from Maltha, that four Knights of Provence, had taken a great prise at Sea, and that in all appearance his Brother was one of them. At length he suffered himself to be persuaded to do a thing wherein a great many would have made no difficulty. Felicia, before his departure, omitted nothing to increase a passion on which she grounded the happiness of her life. She used all her skill to draw from the Chevalier some positive promise which might oblige him; but he dexterously avoided all occasions of long conversation with her. His honesty and civility made him loathe to deceive a Maid that loved him. I shall not trouble you with a relation of the farewells that passed between Felicia and her pretended Lover. They were civil and discreet on the Chevalier's part, but full of Transports and passion on the Lady's: a thousand times she assured him that her love should last as long as her life, and that nothing would be too hard for her to preserve the right which she thought she had to his heart. The Chevalier promised never to forget the obligations which he had to her, that he would give her Testimonies of a constant and perpetual gratitude, and that he would ever love her. He spake to her even more passionately than he had ever done before; for he was of a tender and sweet disposition; and left a young Lady with whom he had conversed for the space of four years, for whom he had entertained a kindness, and in whom he had inspired a passionate love.  
The Chevalier de Belges upon his coming home, found his Father in a great affliction as he had imagined; and though the death of his elder Brother might have given him hopes that his Father would have greater respect for him, and that his kindness, not being limited to one single object, would spread itself on all the Family; yet all these reflections wrought no effect on the Chevaliers heart, he lamented the loss of his Brother, and expressed as much grief as his Father, like one that had really a good nature, and tender disposition. After he came home, he was at first taken up in receiving all the consolatory visits that were rendered to his Father; but so soon as he had disengaged himself from matters of that Nature, which are in use, the very troublesone to those who are in sorrow: The first spare time he had, he employed in visiting his eldest Sister, who was married about twelve or fifteen leagues off in the Principality of Orange towards Avignon. I cannot tell if I gave you an account in the beginning of the State of the Family of the Count of Freslon. I think, I  told you but barely, that he had three Sons, and several Daughters, the eldest of which was married to the marquis of Rochevile, considerable both for Quality and Fortune. He died some years ago, and left his Lady a Widow with six or seven Children. I was one of that number, Madam; and that you may understand the rest of the discourse, I must tell you, that the marquis of Rochevile, my Father, who, as I have already hinted to you, had his Lands near to Avignon, went frequently to that pleasant City, where he saw a young Lady of Quality, who was put into a monastery by her Parents, that she might be a Nun. He fell in love with her, and after many adventures, which I shall not trouble you with, he married her in spite of all his kindred, who, considering only the advantages of fortune, disliked a marriage wherein there was no inequality but that to be found. The ladies parents thinking themselves affronted by the impediments that was objected to the marriage, believed their honour concerned not to consent to it, so that the business was done in spite of all. An affair attended with so many crosses, could not be completely happy; and if I may so say, my Fathers happiness lasted but a moment; for within a year after the marriage, the Marchioness died in childbed of me. She recommended me to her Husband by all that was dear to him, and above all things prayed him never to force me to be a Nun. She had had sad experience of the rigour of parents upon that account, and  told her husband that she would die in despair, it she thought that she left me exposed to the troubles which she had suffered on that occasion; my Father promised all that she desired of him, and it may be said his promise was sincere, since time never bloted out of his mind the assurances that he gave her, and that he punctually executed all that she desired at her death. When time, which is the infallible cure of greatest sorrows, had mitigated my Fathers grief, his Parents obliged him to mary again, and cast their eyes on Mademoiselle of Freslon. They saw in her all that was to be desired, whether it was for birth, beauty, or even for fortune. For though she was of a Family wherein were many children, yet her Grand-Father by the Mother, settled a considerable Portion on her before the marriage was concluded. My father acquainted Mademoiselle of Freslon that the most sensible mark of love that he could require of her, was to have a great kindness for me, and that amongst all the qualities that rendered her desirable, that which made him most earnestly court her for a Wife, was the sweetness of her disposition; because he thought, that since he must give me a Mother-in-law, he could not choose any who would use me so kindly as she. He was not out in his conjecture; for so soon as the marriage was cellebrated, I received from her all the marks of kindness, that I could have desired of a Mother. My Father, after he had lived with her nine or ten years, died of a fever. He left to his Lady, whose Prudence and Virtue he sufficiently knew, the disposal of all his estate, and recommended nothing to her so much on his death-bed, as that she would continue her goodness to me. It was about two years after that great loss, that the Chevalier de Belges came into that Country. His Sister had always entertained greater kindness for him than for the rest of her Brothers; and amongst other reasons that obliged her to that, the strongest seemed to be drawn from the wonderful resemblance that was between them. It was so great, that except the difference of clothes and age, it was hard to distinguish them; my Mother-in-law being near forty years of age, and the Chevalier not above twenty, after the death of the Countess of Freslon their Mother, one of the Sisters the youngest of the family, was sent to live with her Sister. She was a Lady of an ordinary beauty, and of a crafty and artificious temper, her Father could never oblige her to stay in a Monastery: for when she was placed into any, she played so many tricks to all the Nuns, that they were forced to beseech her Parents to remove her with diligence. When her Sister received her into her house, she  told her plainly, that she would have her to live quietly, and let others alone; and she promised to do what she was enjoined. I am afraid, Madam, I have been tedious, by a long digression, which I was obliged to make to inform you of the particulars of a Family, which by the sequel of the discourse you will find were absolutely necessary to be known. I shall return then to my subject, and tell you, that I never saw my Mother-in-law enjoy a moment's content since her Widow-hood, but at that time when she saw her Brother. He seemed to me very handsome, and, I think, you will easily believe it, since that in the sad condition wherein you have seen him, he retains still a good enough mien to show that he must have been a most complete person. At his first visit I received of him a thousand testimonies of civility, which I attributed only to the complaisance that he had for my Mother-in-law; and in that thought I was far more solicitous to pay him the honours of the house, than to all others that were wont to come thither. My Lady Rocheville perceived it, and  told me one day in raillery, that she desired for my sake, that she might be frequently visited by those for whom I might believe she had a Singular respect, because she hoped it might make me lose somewhat of that wild humour, which she so often reproached me with. Seeing it as been always my thought, Madam, that none can discourse handsomely when they speak of themselves, I have hitherto shunned to tell you any thing of my person. But for two reasons I find myself now obliged not to be so peremptory in the resolution that I had taken as to that, the first is, that having no more the qualities for which I have been heretofore praised, I cannot now be Proud of them; and secondly, that the Beauty, which some pretend I then had, may excuse the violent passion that my Husband had for me. I must tell you then, Madam, that my beauty was naturally regular, I had a good voice, and played indifferently well on the Guitar; my temper inclined more to meloncholy than mirth: and all that were not thoroughly acquainted with me, imputed to vanity and pride, what was only the effect of a timorous and reserved disposition. I confess, notwithstanding that I am a little vain; I cordially love all that, I think, I ought to love, and never undervalue myself when the Interest of my friends is concerned. I was naturally so mildred and timorous, that they, who had the charge of me, never found occasion to give me long rebukes; for I appeared to them so much affencted at the least thing they  told me, that there was no need of great discourses to make me amend. You have, Madam, in a few words my character, when I first saw the Chevalier. He stayed with us fifteen dayes at his first visit, and during all that time he let no occasion slip to let me know, that the complaisance, which he had for his Sister, was not the only ground that obliged him to have the same for me. The sad condition I am in, Madam, hinders me from relating to you a thousand particulars, which with pleasure I should recount to you at another time; I shall only tell you, that I thought the Chevalier had some inclination for me; and I likewise perceived that I was not indifferent at his departure, and that if he rendered me all the services that I desired, he would not find me insensible. He omitted nothing that might please me when he took leave of his Sister. He  told her he had received a Letter which obliged him to go to Avignon, and that he would use his endeavours that he might have time to see her inpassing upon his return. He kepthis word and come back four days after, he seemed more addicted to me then than at the first time, and though he had resolved to spend but one night at Rocheville, yet he stayed two dayes complete: His Sisters attributed that stay to his good nature, and it was not his fault if I did not impute it to another cause. He assured me at parting, that if his Sister judged of his love by the care he should take to sand and come himself to learn news of us, she should have all reason to be satisfied with him. I made him no answer to these words, for I was not willing to enter into a discourse which I understood but too well. Alas! Madam, Love is a great Master, I was young, had no experience; yet I well perceived that the Chevalier's words were sincere; and at the same time felt in myself some sentiments in his favour, which I had never had for man. I saw so little appearance that the engagement we might have together could come to any happy success, that I thought it would be imprudence to let such sentiments increase in my heart as could not but create me trouble. I urged to myself on that head all that a most experienced person might have alleged to me, and thought by the resolutions which I took, that I had said enough to myself to stifle a passion which was not as yet fully grown. I began to think myself past all danger, when the Chevalier came back to Rocheville. I was a little vexed when I perceived in myself the alteration that the fight of him wrought in me. yet I put so much force on myself as to hinder it from being discovered, but I can not declare to you the surprise. I was in, when I found that the Chevalier spake much less to me than he was wont, and carried himself towards me in a way quiter different from what he had formerly done. The sense that I had of that procedure, convinced me that my heart was not so free as I had believed. One evening as I was fetching a walk alone, mademoiselle of Freslon came to me, Sister, said she, for so we called one another, I have just now had the greatest pleasure imaginable in discoursing of you two hours complete, with one who hath asked me a thousand questions concerning you, for no other end but that he might have the pleasure to make me speak many things to your advantage: I prayed her to explain her meaning. She  told me that her Brother had discoursed to her all the morning of me, and had not omitted to question her about all that concerned me, and particularly about my humour. I was a little surprised at that discouse, but was not ill pleased to find thereby that he concerned himself more in me than I believed. Seeing I put no great confidence in the person that spake to me, I  told her that I thought there was not much seriousness in what she acquainted me with, and imputed only to curiosity the questions that had been put to her on my account. We were still upon that subject, when our conversation was interrupted by the visit of some Ladies of the neighbour-hood, to whom we were obliged to pay the civilities of the house: we conducted them in, and having left them in a room, I pretended some business in my Chamber, that I might there muse with ease on all that had been  told me: but I had not much time for reflection; for I was hardly got into my Chamber when the Chevalier came in. He seemed to me more melancholic than he used to be; and as he entered he begged me pardon for interruping some business, which might undoubtedly be more agreeable to me than the trouble of entertaining him, but protesting he could no longer resist a desire that he had to speak to me in private. Seeing you can have no business with me, said I to him smiling, which requires a long audience, I believe you may tell me all you have to say in the time that we are going to the rest of the company, saying so, I gave him my hand that we might go out of my Chamber, and made appear by my countenance that I would not take it well, if he should be obstinate to remain there. He went instantly forth, and we went together strait to the place where we left all the company; but found them not there; for these Ladies were gone to walk in a grove of Orange trees. You see, Madam iselle, said the Chevalier, that heaven favour my desires, since it affords me an occasion of speaking to you in private; you will suffer me, I hope, to make use of it, and to beg of you two favours; the one is, that you would fully believe all that I shall say to you, and the other, that you would answer me frankly. I shall find no difficulty, said I to grant the half of what you desire, since I never failed in sincerity to any body. But I cannot conceive continued I, looking seriously on him, what can be the intent of your discourse; but this I know, that you will much oblige me to reflect on the person to whom you speak. He assured me that he had rather die, than in the least deviate from the respect that he owed me, and that the sentiment which he had for me, though made up of affection yet contained nothing that might give distaste; and for a proof of that, assured me, that he durst never have discovered the love he had for me, if he had not had good ground to hope, that he might bring matters so about as that he needed not doubt of his happiness, if I would but consent to it. I know, Madam, added he, that I might employ a thousand more tender and passionate expressions to open my heart to you, but I am better conconvinced, that the wittiest discourses are not always the truest, and that the surest mark of love, that can be given to a Lady, is to desire to be joined with her in such bonds as nothing can break. Tell me your mind, I adjure you, and let me know if you have any repugnance to receive the offer which I make you. I will owe your heart to none but yourself; and am sensible that I have done nothing as yet that may deserve it, but when I have learned from your fair mouth, that you have no aversion to me, there is nothing which I will not do to obtain▪ somewhat more advantageous. The Chevalier said no more, and having kept silence for some time, that he might give me leisure to answer, and perceiving by my countenance, that I was very much puzzled. Speak, Madam, said he, speak, but for loves sake, do it with that sincerity you promised. I ask but two words of you; tell me if you find in yourself a disposition one day to love me, or command me never to appear more in your presence; but once more speak: for I know no condition more cruel than to be in a state of uncertainty. I believe you are not surprised, said I to the Chevalier at the confusion into which your discourse has put me: The small experience I have in the world, and especially in such matters, makes me that I know not what to answer; but since I must keep my word to you, in speaking sincerely; I must tell you that my thoughts of you have nothing that looks like hatred, and that no vows of mine shall ever make you complain of your fortune: but having declared this truth to you, you will take it in good part, that I represent to you my fortune not to be such as may promise any thing to my inclination. You know that I depend on my Lady your Sister, and that all the good and tranquillity of my life is at her disposal; in a word you are not ignorant of the condition of our family: and you ought to be less ignorant that I will do nothing without the consent of my friends; and that there is no likelihood they will approve a settlement, that will be so prejudicial to you. All these reasons have obliged me to strive against the inclinations that I felt for you, and to pray you to overcome the passion which you profess to have for me, seeing it can never succeed to the advantage either of yourself or me. You may possibly, added I, accuse me of too much credulity in answering so seriously to what you have proposed: but I have always thought that most part of women, who turn such kind of discourses into raillery, are not displeased to be plied with them still; and for my part, I should be much afraid to hear the like often. I am so overjoyed at the first words you have said to me, answered the Chevalier, and and my heart is so filled therewith, that melancholy can find no place there, and that I may let you see my fortune is not so bad as you take it to be; I'll tell you one thing, that none of this Country, but myself knows as yet, That is, that my brother the Knight of Maltha, who is advanced in the order either by time or the services that he hath performed, hath made his vows two or three months before he heard of the death of my elder Brother. He hath sent me word, that he is no more in a condition to forsake that profession, and that though it were free to him to do so, yet he would never change it for another. He hath entreated me to choose the fittest time to acquaint my Father with that news: and I have resolved to tell him nothing of it until I knew what fortune I might expect from you. I had no time to answer his last words, because we were  told that they stayed for us to come to Supper, during which; I observed that mademoiselle of Freslon endeavoured to red in the countenance of her Brother and me what kind of discourse we had had together in our evenings walk: when all the company had withdrawn. I went to my Mother-in-law's Chamber, and being  told by her Maids▪ that she was in her closet, I approached to the door, and having made a little noise that she might know that I was there, she bad me come in. Having shut the door after me, I know not, Madam, said I to her, what you will think of the discourse that I am to tell you, but I know very well I should be altogether unworthy of the kindness wherewith you have honoured me, and of the care you have taken of my education, if I concealed from you any thing that may concern me. I must tell you then Madam, that your Brother hath spoken to me in such a strain as gives me ground to believe he has some kindness for me: but seeing my judgement is not ripe enough to descant on such matters: I hope you will take it well; Madam, that I refer myself to yours. Having said so, I  told her word for word the whole conversation that her Brother and I had had together; and besought her so to order my conduct, that I might do nothing whereat one day she might be dissatisfied, she interrupted me not during the whole time of my discourse; but when I had made an end, embracing me with Motherly affection; I praise God, Daughter, said she, that all the care I have taken for you, has met with a disposition that hath surpassed all that I could have desired. You have reason to believe that the interest of my Brother shall never banish from my heart your concerns; and seeing of all the advantages that are desired in marriage you want nothing but a fortune, and that by a thousand other qualities you supply the defect of that which is not essential to the happiness of life, I think my Brother too happy in having you for his Wife. You may trust to me as to a Mother, who most dearly loves you; you have exceedingly delighted me in speaking to me as you have done; I have already perceived my Brothers inclinations towards you, and some there have been who have endeavoured to do you bad offices with me. We had much discourse on this subject, and at length she advised me to try as exactly as I could if her Brother spake to me with so much sincerity, as he endeavo●red to persuade me. For to be short, continued she, we are of a sex that ought to guard against the dissimulation of men, and we cannot be too cautions to secure ourselves from that. When I had returned into my Chamber, and reflected on all that had been said to me, I made no doubt but that it was Mademoiselle of Freslon who had sought the occasion to possess her Sister with prejudice against me. I had for a long time observed, that she bore me a spite, and that she had sought all ways to do me an injury; but I seemed always ignorant of it, as well because I delighted not in quarrels, as for the respect I had for my Lady her Sister; and I endeavoured by all kind of solicitude and little offices, to overcome her unjust machinations. Now seeing the Chevalier was to depart next day; I was sensible that we could not renew our conversation, and the rather because I had resolved to give no occasion to the young Lady his Sister of entertaining any new suspicions of our intelligence. I made it my business all the day to pay the civilities of the house to these Ladies who came to visit us; and seeing I delighted always in music, I prayed the Chevalier to give me the lines that were made at Avignon, to an air which he had taught me. As he was looking for that, he dropped a paper out of his pocket; his Sister took it up, without being perceived by him, and made me a sign that we should go red it together: I  told the Chevalier that I could not refrain from the curiosity I had of seeing somewhat that his Sister intended to show me, but promised to impart it to him, if it was worth his pains. I had not done so, if I had not thought that that Lady, who was naturally destrustful had suspected that I was concerned in that Letter; so I w●thdrew with her into a window that we might red it; and in it we found these words.  

WHere it as easy▪ for me to break th● bonds that detain you where you are, as it was to tear the Bill of Exchange which I sand you back, you should have no pretext that might hinder you from seeing me again. I am not satisfied with your heart, I find nothing of it in all your Letters; they are civil, but they are short, and of a could and perplexed style: and that which gives me a total alarm, is your great exactness in paying of a debt which no body craves you for. Think rather of acquitting you self of one for which I am afraid you will become bankrupt, for I am so punctual to my duty in all that I have promised you, that you cannot perform yours, if you be not desperately in love with me. You know me, and on that account I will not take bad money for good coin: I require heart for heart. You are engaged to it; and nothing can excuse you from keeping your word. I sand you some Letters from Maltha which are addressed to this place for you. The engagement wherein your Brother is, hath made me reflect much on your horoscope. Alas! what would I not give to see all these predictions fulfilled. farewell, I perceive I am like to say more than I would, and perhaps also more than you desire. When I began to writ this Letter, I resolved to quarrel with you for the money you have sent me, but I want strength to do it, I am still the same, or to say better I am a thousand times worse; seeing time and absence, which serve to cure other evils, do only increase mine: Adieu, sand me long Letters, but never any more Bills of Exchange.   
I shall not tell you my thoughts, Madam, whilst this Letter was a reading; never was heart in so violent an agitation, and I had so little command of myself, that his Sister might easily have discovered all that she desired to know, had she but observed me. I did all I could to reassure myself; and  told the Lady, that if I had thought that that Letter had been so dear to her Brother, I should have had a special care not to have vexed him by reading it. I only spake these few words, and took some simplo pretext to retire a little in private, that I might recover myself from the trouble that so unexpected an adventure had put me in, so soon as I found myself so composed as to appear, I returned to the company. I found them all busied in playing upon the Chevalier for the Letter that his Sister had red. He justified himself like a man who seemed not much displeased at the discourse; but I engaged as little as I could in all that foolery. So soon as the Chevalier could come to speak to me in private; good now, Madam, said he condemn me not without a hearing, unless you intend to force me to despair. It will be hard for you to excuse you self in my mind, said I, and I never pardon a Gentleman who is cruel, or even indifferent towards a Lady, and I so compassionate her that writes to you, that though I know her not, yet I take her part against you, and I could almost do any thing for her satisfaction. I spake these words in such a manner as might give him to understand that I was not well satisfied with what I had seen. Once More, Madam, said he, I adjure you to give me a minutes hearing; and what prejudice soever you may have conceived against me, I hope, you will be so just as to aclowledge me innocent. Deny me not then the favour that I beg, unless you intend to force me to make use of the authority that my Sister has over you, that I may obtain a short attention. I was so curious to hear the particulars of an adventure, which put me already into so great perplexity, that it was no hard matter for the Chevalier to obtain his desires; especially seeing I had all the convenience that I could wish for, to speak to him, because the rest of the company were fallen to play. He began his discourse with fresh assurances of the affection he had for me. He gave me an exact relation of all that happened to him at Arles; and there appeared so much frankness in the assurances he gave me, that he had never entertained more for Felicia but a kindness of gratitude, that I could not but be satisfied. He made me also take notice that she complained of him in the Letter that was in question. In a word, Madam, the reasons of one whom we love, easily persuade and gain credit, and that conversation which with so much peevishness I had begun, ended with reciprocal assurances of an inviolable love: but I considered not, Madam, said the Countess to me; that the remembrance of a happy time, so possesses my mind, that I am not ware that this relation is too long, and may prove tedious to you. I  told her that I should be ravished to spend the whole day in hearing adventures wherein I sensibly concerned myself. Having given her that assurance she continued in this manner the rest of the evening. It was impossible for me to entertain a long discourse with the Chevalier, he  told me only that he would be gone next day without taking leave. He assured me that for ever he would prove constant in his love, and make all the hast he could to return.   
The End of the first Part.   

THE Penitent Hermit. OR The Fruits of jealousy.  
The Second Part.  
IT is needless for me, Madam, to tell you the trouble that the absence of the Chevalier caused in me; because by telling you that I loved him sincerely, and that my heart is naturally very soft and tender; I think, I have given you to understand in a few words, that I am not insensible when any thing comes to me from the beloved object. The time in which the Chevalier promised to return was not as yet expired, when he came to Rocheville: and that exactness of doing more than he had promised filled me with joy; but I was exceedingly surprised to observe a great deal of melancholy and anxiety in his countenance; which increased the impatience that I had of speaking to him in private. He being no less impatient than I, made us quickly find an occasion of entertainment. He informed me, that his Father upon his return  told him that he designed to mary him to a Maid of an extraordinay fortune; that he had done what he could to divert him from that resolution: But that seeing he was a man steadfast in his purposes, he feared to exasperate him, and that he only  told him with all imaginable submission and mildness, that besides the natural aversion that he had to marriage, he had no liking to the Maid that was proposed to him, who was fearfully ugly: He  told me that he was come to find some consolation in my Company, and to consult with me on the means to prevent so unexpected a disaster. Though I did not expect that a matter of that importance could be concluded so very suddenly, yet I found myself much afflicted at the news, and that which increased my trouble, was a firm resolution that I had taken, never to enter into a family, without the consent and desire of those that were chiefly concerned in it. The example of my Mother obliged me to take that resolution, which I declared to the Chevalier; and though he would have willingly desired other marks of my kindness, yet I still persisted in that mind, and he continued unchangeable on his part in the resolution he had taken not to listen to any proposition concerning that marriage. He  told me, that he had some hopes that when his Father should understand that his Eldest Son had made his vows and was professed, he would allow him some more liberty: But that he was unwilling to discover any such thing to him, least that by so doing he might have created himself some new trouble. He likewise  told me that at his departure he had not  told his Father whither he was going, and that it was thought he was gone to pay some Visits elsewhere, and that he could not tarry with us above a day. We spent that whole day in bewailing our across fortune, and in contriving ways to render it more happy. The Chevalier discovered himself to the Marchioness of Rocheville his Sister. She answered him like a good and discreet Lady, and thought it enough to tell him that she could give no advice in a matter that might displease the Count their Father; but that she could neither oppose his design, which appeared to her the more reasonable, that she was confident he could never f●n● a wife with whom he could spend his life with so much content and pleasure as with me. We resolved all three together to wait till Heaven might be pleased to dispose more favourably the mind of the Count of Freslon, and that in the mean time we should use all circumspection to hinder him from discovering our love. The Chevalier departed next morningly by times, and from that day I began to feel by sad experience the pains of those who are sincerely but unfortunately in Love. On a day when my thoughts were taken up in making sad reflections on the success that the business which lay nearest my heart, might have, I was  told that my Mother-in-law called for me; I went to her Closet, and was exceedingly surprised to see her eyes bathed in tears. It is not, said she, showing me a Letter, to purchase your thanks for a displeasure that I have just now received, that I have sent for you; but only that I may divide with you all the troubles that we are like to meet with. When she had said so, she red a loud a Lette● that the Count her Father had written to her, wherein he reproached her, for countenancing the foolish passion that his Son had for me; he exaggerated the discontent that that wrought in him, and the rage which it put him in against my Lady his Daughter, in so rough terms, that I was not at all surprised at her affliction. I cannot express how much I was moved for having been the cause of her trouble. I was so sensible thereof, that the very thought of it suspended in my heart all the reflections that I might have made upon my own calamities; I shall not trouble you with a relation of all that we said on this occasion. We concluded, that it must needs have been mademoiselle of Freslon who had acquainted her Father with the love that her Brother had for me, and that which the more confirmed us in that belief, was, that she had testified to my Lady her Sister, that she was very desirous her Brother might mary the Lady that was proposed to him, because she hoped thereby that she might have some share of her great portion, which might procure her a speedy marriage. I earnestly entreated my Lady, her Sister, that she would speak nothing to her of our suspicion, and at the same time besought her to suffer me to go to Avignon there to abide for some time with one of my Aunts: I was the rather induced to beg that of her, because I hoped that it might justify her to her Father, as to the accusations he charged her with on my account, and besides I had a secret design in that journey, which was to put myself into a Monastery, and there to continue all my life time, rather than to expose the only persons whom I loved in the World to crosses and misfortunes for my sake. I had special care not to discover my designs; because I was very sure that she to whom I spake, would never have consented to it. I had even much ado to persuade her to let me take that journey, and I may truly say that never was greater love between a Mother and Daughter-in-law, than was between us. At length I departed on the journey I have been telling you of, and I wanted not pretexts for making it, because all my Mothers kindred lived in that City, or in the neighbourhood; yet never was journey made with greater affliction: so soon as I was at liberty, I gave myself wholly up to sorrow; which was the greater because I had laid violent constraints on myself to conceal it before my departure. I have been so loathe, Madam, to tell you things unnecessary, that I have forbore to mention many particulars which might have been necessary to the sequel of my discourse, I must tell you then that the love I had for my Mother-in-law, having hindered me to go to my Mothers relations, what entreaties so ever they had made to me after my Fathers death, exceedingly vexed them; and especially one of my uncles, who had always professed a great kindness for me. I made the pretext of my journey to be a visit to his Lady, whom I had never seen since her marriage; and I had no great difficulty to make my peace with my uncle. When I came to his house, he was just upon going to Avignon with his Lady, there to spend the Carnaval. If my inclination had been followed, they would not have made that journey; for a country retirement was far more proper for my melancholic humour than the noise of the City, where all was mirth and jollity, and especially at that time. whilst we were at Avignon I meet with an unexpected accident, which put me in great confusion; for my Kinswoman, who was young, and minded only to spend her time with pleasure, took me with her, one evening that she was invited to supper, to a great house where a consort of music was provided; where after we had danced some time, the marquis her husband was let in. I was very glad that the tumult had delivered me from constraint: and therefore pretending to be weary, and unwilling to be in a place where I might be taken out to dance, I retired into a corner of the Hall. I had not been long there, when I espied one in the habit of an Egyptian, who, having looked every where about, came and fell on his knees before me. I was not at all surprised at that carriage; for, you know, Madam, that Provence, is the place of the World where Mummers are the gallantest: but I wondered to perceive that the person, who had been so solicitous to draw near to me, looked on me a long time without speaking a word; which made me laugh a little. I asked my mummer if there was no body in all the Company to whom he could talk pleasingly; he answered me in Italian with a counterfeit voice, that men were often silent because they had too many things to say, and that he durst not trouble my meditations. I  told him, that I took his answer as a good excuse for his silence, and assured him that he had pitched upon the right person when he came to me, if he had no desire to speak; since I took always pleasure in silence. I am surprised, answered the Mummer; that such a Lady as you can be melancholic; I thought sadness ought to be the portion of wretches, such as I. You will confess that no man can be more, when I have  told you the perplexity that I am in. You know that we are of a profession that allows us nothing but what we steal: I cast my eyes on one of the fairest young sheep that ever was; I believed myself sure to catch it, nevertheless it has escaped at the time when I least expected; and that which is most grievous to me, is that I serve a master, who will never let me rest, until I have found again what my ill luck hath made me lose. I took this discourse for an invention to play the part of an Egyptian, and to excuse himself, that he had been so slow in speaking to me; I resolved to continue the Act, and  told the Mummer, that I pitied his accident, but that I hoped he might find somewhat on his way, that might comfort him for his loss. Your hopes may pass for prophesies, Madam, answered he, for since I have been with you, I find my misfortune much lessened; and if you will grant me the least assistance, I hope I may see my troubles at an end. The Egyptian spake these last words in a way that much perplexed me. If you would have me render you any good Office, said I to him, you must deserve it by a piece of complaisance, which I desire of you; it is easy enough, since all I desire is that you would tell me your name; I confess to you I am very desirous to know it, and the name of that Master, who obliges you to so painful a search. I shall willingly tell you my Masters name, said the Egyptian, drawing a little nearer me; the small acquaintance you have with him makes me afraid you will not concern yourself any more in his affairs, when once you have heard it. You must know then that Love is my Master, and were I somewhat less unhappy than I am, your heart would have already explained to you the whole riddle, and you would have known the person that speaks to you. I needed no farther clearing, and at these words I knew it was the Chevalier de Belges, who spake to me under the disguise of an Egyptian. I know not whether my joy or surprise was greatest. I prayed him, that was the cause of it, to tell me what good Genius had brought him so quickly to the place where I was. He  told me, that having gone to see my Lady his Sister, and having missed me there, he had enquired where I was; and that having stayed a day at Rochevile, he had departed from thence without communicating to any where he designed to go, and that having none with him, but a Valet de Chamber in whom he could trust, he had taken Post to come to me. That being the same evening come to Avignon, he had learnt at the Inn where he alighted, that there was a great Ball that evening, where all the Ladies in the Town were to be; and that he resolved to come thither in disguise that he might endeavour to speak with me; and to take from me his measures how he should behave himself towards me in public. Having testified to him my acknowledgement for the trouble he had put himself to for my sake, I  told him, that I thought it not fit he should stay long at Avignon; that I was afraid, if he did, it might cut out more work for him with the Count his Father. He seemed unwilling to follow my counsels on that occasion; and seeing the pleasure of seeing one whom we love, carries commonally greater sway than the fear of discontents, which are but seen at a distance, I gave consent that the Chevalier might spend the rest of the carnaval at Avignon. I thought that the divertisements, which at that time are to be found in that City, might prove a rare pretext to warrant his abode there; our conversation lasted very long, and I was as loathe to leave that assembly as I was to come into it. The Chevalier thanked me for all my pains in so passionate a manner, that I thought all that I had done for him nothing in respect of what he deserved.  
So soon as I returned to my Chamber I went in all hast to bed, that I might muse with myself at greater ease. The night was almost spent when I began to fall a sleep, and that was the cause that it was late before I awoke. I was not as yet out of bed, when my uncle entered my Chamber, and rattled me for my laziness. You have reason, said he, to be tender of your beauty, for it produces very extraordinary effects: you will believe it when I have acquainted you with the visit I received this morning. With these words, having desired the Maids, that were in my Chamber, to withdraw, he  told me that the marquis of Doursan, who was a man of great age, and no less fortune and merit, had been with him that morning to tell him that he had so great an inclination for me, that he was resolved to essay by all means to oblige me to admit his svit, but seeing he perceived that the language of Love did not agree with gray hairs, he found himself obliged to implore his assistance to obtain my consent in the design he had for me; and that he so referred all his concerns to him, that he declared he would grant me all the advantages that our family could desire. This is the thing, niece, said he, that I have to impart to you; you know your fortune is not suited to your birth, it is therefore my opinion you should not reject the propositions I have made to you. That discourse put me into a terrible vexation, because I well foresaw that that matter would hatch new impediments to the engagement I had with the Chevalier: I answered my uncle with all possible civility; but so choose my words, that I gave him no positive reply. Seeing it was already very late, he left me that I m●ght have time to make myself ready; but my mind was so taken up with what I had heard, that I did not much heed my dress, and I longed much to see the Chevalier, that I might speak with him. whilst my thoughts were so employed, one of his Servants entered my Chamber, and asked me in his Masters name, if I thought fit that he should pay me a visit after dinner, and if I would have the goodness to present him to those with whom I was. You may believe I made no great difficulty on that occasion to grant his desire. immediately after dinner the Chevalier entered the room where we were; and so soon as I had  told the Company who he was, they received him with much civility. We had spent already some time in general discourses, when a Valet de Chamber having whispered my uncle in the ear, he went out of the room, and returned again immediately. Ladies, said he, looking at me with a smile, I am employed to pray you to take the pains to go hear a consort of music in one of the pleasantest houses about Avignon: I am charged to perform the civilities of this entertainment, and that it may be the more agreeable; I have liberty to choose such as I please to make the Company. I knew very well by the air my uncle spake with; that the regal came from him whom he had spoken to me of in the morning. Had I been, absolutely my own Mistress, I would have stayed at home: but it was in vain for me to think of that. The Chevalier de Belges, being all the while present, he was entreated to make one of the company, and it was no hard matter to persuade him, because of the pleasure he took to be with me; and seeing he, to whose house we were going, was his near Kinsman, my uncle charged him to acquaint five or six jolly Women, and some Gentlemen of our gang. whilst my uncle was busied in giving his orders, the Chevailier drew near to me; I cannot, tell, said he, if I be mistaken: but I think you are a great deal more melancholy than ordinary, tell me what ground you have for it. I cannot satisfy your curiosity said I to him, unless we were in another place; and I assure you that the greatest regal that I propose to myself in the place, whither we are going, is, that I may there find some opportunit● of speaking to you with freedom. I had hardly spoken these words, when they that were to go with us to this ceremony, entered the Room, and immediately after we all took Coach to go to the place where we were expected. It is certainly one of the loveliest places in the world, whether for situation, or the pains that have been bestowed upon it. But expect not, Madam, that I will give you an exact account of all the rarities that are to be seen there, nor of the pleasures and divertisements that were afforded us. It is tedious to me to red long descriptions, and I find so few that pleasantly make them, that I shall have special care not to engage in such an undertaking. I shall only tell you, that what ever abundance, neatness, gallantry, and magnificence could device, was to be found in that entertainment; and that my old Lover took an opportunity to tell me his mind whilst the Company was taken up with hearing an admirable consort of music. I observed that notwithstending all his gravity he could not forbear two or three time to change colour as he drew near me. I know not Lady, said he to me, leaning on the back of my chair, if your uncle hath spoken to you of the discourse we had together this morning, but I know very well that your merit must far exceed all that I have hitherto seen, seeing you have inspired sentiments into me which I never knew before; it is misbecoming a man of my age to confess his folle, but when one wants strength to overcome, he ought to betake himself to the goodness of his conqueror. I am not so blind as to hope that you entertain a reciprocal passion for me; but if you have not an insuperable aversion to my person, I shall endeavour by fortune to repair the defects of nature. Pardon me, I pray you, Sir, said I, if I answer not seriously to a discourse which I look upon as an exercise of your wit to divert yourself by trifling from the great affairs wherein you are employed. This I said, with so much co●●●sion, that the good man believed it was only bashfulness that made me so unwilling to hear him; so that having spoken two or three words more on the same subject, and the consort being ended, he changed his place. We were desired to go into a large and fair hall, and the Chevalier catched an opportunity to give me his hand. What I see here, said he, when he was near me, begins to displease me, and I am much mistaken, if all the Philosophy of the Master of this house can defend him against your charms. Before he had said this we were got so near the rest of the Company that I could make him no answer but by a nod. After supper, we were pleasantly surprised to see the preparatives of a Comedy, which was presently acted. In a word, Madam, we found so many occasions of divertisement in that place, that it was day before we returned to Avignon. Seeing I had not slept for two nights together I found myself so weary as to have need of rest and to lie pretty long a bed. I was next morning much surprised, to see the marquis of Doursan enter my Chamber; who, after some discourse about the divertisements of the precedeing night: I should esteem my self happy, Madam, said he, if such things might oblige you to approve the design which I have for you. I am sensible that I speak not to you with all the Gallantry that might be expected from a young man: but I am so old, that if I would undertake to attack your heart in the usual forms, I should be dead before I made half the journey. I confess, Madam, I found that way of courtship so pleasant, that I had a great mind to laugh; yet I was a little uncertain how to answer that discourse, and the rather that my new Lover would needs press me to assure him that I disliked not his person. I make no doubt, said he, but that your Relations will consent to my happiness, I have a considerable estate, and in this age, that is all that is minded: But, Madam, I will not purchase you as a slave, nor will I buy your heart, I will endeavour to merit it. If he that spake to me had been of another age, I should have been less puzzled to answer him, according to my real sentiments, but his age and merit imprinted some respect on my mind. whilst I was considering how to answer him, the Chevalier de Belges eased me of the trouble, by coming into my Chamber. I blushed at sight of him, as if I had committed a crime in hearing love from any but him. The marquis attentively observed me, and shortly after went out. So soon as I was at liberty I  told the Chevalier all that I had met with concerning that proposition of marriage; who appeared terribly afflicted thereat. You may easily believe, Madam, said he, that it is not jealousy that causes my grief: but I only fear that your old gallant's estate may object strong impediments to my hopes; and to confess my weakness, I fear, I shall never be able to recompense what you sacrifice for me on this occasion. You have sacrificed so many other things for me, said I, that it is very just I should testify my gratitude to you, and that I have never loved you for interest. We spent the rest of that conversation in contriving ways to divert the misfortune thath both of us apprehended. So soon as the Marquess's design was blazed abroad in the City, his Relations omitted nothing that might prevent that mischief: but all their pains were fruitless, and the marquis persisted steadfast in his resolution, the oftener I saw him, the greater I found his merit and civility to be, and I confess, had I not been unalterably engaged to the Chevalier I would have preferred that Illustrious old man to all others. I think it is pertinent Madam, in this place to give you an accout who this marquis of Doursan was, you shall know then that his birth and fortune were very considerable, he had lived long a Widower; and having had a Son of great worth, had placed all his affection on him; but he having been killed five or six years before, he appeared so sensibly affencted for that loss that he seemed to have renounced the World. His course of life since that time persuaded two nieces of his, whereof the one was Married to an Italian, and the other to a man of little merit, to reckon their uncles estate their own. It may be easily then imagined what discontent these persons had to see themselves in danger of losing so considerable a fortune. One day, when we were together in my Aunt's Chamber, where all the rest of the Company was engaged at play, wherein I went shares with the Chevalier de Belges; I could not forbear now and then to ask him about the fortune of our play, though I seemed attentive enough to the discourse of the marquis of Doursan. The marquis observing it, tell me the truth, Madam, said he, having earnestly beholded me; the Chevalier to whom you speak is not altogether indifferent to you. I confess it, said I, a little surprised at his discourse, and I shall never be indifferent to any thing that concerns the Marchioness of Rocheville; you know he is her Brother. I am not ignorant of that, but added he, I know not as yet what resolution I should take: I love you as much as I esteem you, and that puts me to a plunge. The marquis having said so left me; and I was so troubled at what he said, that if he had stayed longer with me, I would freely have confessed to him the state of my heart. Seeing it was late when they left play, I could not satisfy the desires I had of speaking to the Chevalier; I only prayed him, as he went out, to return as soon as he had supped. We were gone from Table a long time before I heard any news of the Chevalier; and I knew not what to think of his negligance; but seeing it was not his custom to be so, for such things as I desired of him, I was afraid that some accident might have befallen him. whilst my mind was distracted with these thoughts, there came in one of the marquis of Doursan's lackeys in great disorder, who  told us that his Master had almost been murdered, and that he had certainly been killed had he not been rescued by the Chevalier de Belges. You may believe that this relation put us in great astonishment. My uncle went immediately to inform himself of the particulars of that accident, and to satisfy the entreaty of his friend, who desired to see him at his house. I asked the lackey if his Master was wounded, and if the Chevalier was with him, and in what condition he was; he  told me that his Master had received a very considerable wound, and the Chevalier another in the Arm, which he did not think was dangerous; but that seeing he was not present, when the matter happened, he knew not all the particulars. If it had been decent for me to have waited one my uncle to the place, it would have eased me of much anxiety. About an hour after he returned, and  told us that the marquis, after he left us, having gone to visit one of his friends, who lodged hard by his house, had sent back all his attendants and kept only one Lackey with him; that the Chevalier passing by that door, because it was his way to the place where he was to sup, had heard three men talking together. I fear, said one of them, that by using too much circumspection we shall lose our promised reward. I know not, answered his Comrade, if I be mistaken, but I think this the best occas●on that we have as yet found, to cure the good man for ever of his itch of marrying. Take right measures, said the third, for I do what I can, I come to give you notice where he is, and I am going to him, for fear that if he miss me, he may take some others to wait upon him home; which would spoil our whole design. The last having said so went back into the house. The Chevalier pondered a little with himself, if he should set upon the Rogues; but being uncertain against whom their design was, he choose rather to stand near the door where he saw the boy enter; and ordered the Lackey, who carried his light to retire into a street at a little distance, and to be ready to come to him at the first noise he should hear. Hardly had he given these orders, when he saw the marquis come out attended only by one Lackey; he had made but two or three steps into the street; when these two men that hide themselves under a gate, advanced with drawn swords and were followed by two others; they were just about to have killed the marquis when the Chevalier cried out, and calling his Lackey, threw himself betwixt that Illustrious old man and him that set upon him. Yet he could not so defend himself, but that he received a cut in the Arm. Another of the Murtherers came presently in and engaged the marquis, having given him a wound on the shoulder; but the Chevalier made him repent his boldness; for having separated him a little from the rest, he put him out of condition of ever committing such crimes again. His Comrades, being terrified by what they saw, made it their business to escape the like fate. The Chevalier wounded another of them as he was making up to the marquis; which put them into so great terror, that they betook themselves to their heels; so that the Chevalier had no more to do, but to go home with him whom he had so valiantly defended. My uncle  told us afterward, that he never saw a man so grateful as his friend was, for the favour which he had received. I carefully enquired of the condition of their health; and understood that their wounds were but slight, that the Marquess's was somewhat greater than the Chevaliers hurt; and that he would by no means suffer his Defender to remove out of his house. When the first trouble, that that news had wrought in me, was a little over, I was overjoyed that the Chevalier had rendered service to one, who of all men living best deserved it. I sent next morning to know how the wounded did; and learnt that the Surgeons assured them that their wounds were not dangerous, and that in eight or ten dayes they might come abroad again. My uncle desired me to accompany his Lady in a visit which she payed these two generous friends: and there being a great many in their Chamber, they could only speak to me by their eyes. My heart being in intelligence with the Chevalier's, I undestood very well the language of his looks. He  told me, as I was going out of his Chamber, that he hoped his hurt would not long deprive him of the honour of waiting on me. Next day after, I understood that the Count of Freslon was come to Avignon upon the occasion of the accident that had befallen his Kinsman and Son, which, as all things are magnified by report, was made appear to him to be far greater than really it was. I was very apprehensive that the coming of the Count into a place where he might see me, or at least could not but hear much talking of me, might not revive in his heart the discontents that on my account he had conceived▪ against his Son, the thought of that obliged me to writ to the Chevalier de Belges, and pray him to keep his Chamber longer than he intended, not doubting but the services, which he could not forbear to render me, would exasperate the mind of his Father. I lay at that time under such agitations as may be better imagined than expressed, when I was informed that the marquis of Doursan had sent to entreat my Aunt to come and spend the afternoon at his house. His Age, indisposition, and quality, and above all the custom of the Country, made the matter very feisable; and I cannot tell whether the fear of finding the Count of Freslon, or the pleasure of seeing his Son, wrought the greatest effects on my heart, but seeing pleasure is a passion more agreeable than fear, I gave way to that which most flattered my heart, and endeavoured to take courage against the rest. When we entered the Marquess's Chamber, we found five or six of the most considerable persons of the City of both Sexes. The first compliments, and some indifferent discourses, being over, one of these Ladies, who rendered the civilities of the house, proposed to go to play. This divertisement pleasing all the Company, they were easily engaged. They had the discretion to remove a little from the Marquess's bed, least the noise might incommode him. There remained none near him but a Lady of quality and myself; and she being called upon about business was obliged to go forth. So soon as the marquis found me with him alone. I thank Heaven, Madam, said he, for the occasion it presents me of speaking to you in private; I have long desired it; yet this pleasure, how great so ever, cannot be perfect unless you promise to answer sincerely to the questions I am to propose to you; if that be all, said I smiling, that is wanting to render this conversation agreeable, I assure you you shall have all cause of content; and though my humour were less free than it is, yet it would be impossible for me to dissemble with one whom I so much esteem as I do you. Having that assurance, replied the marquis, I shall not stick to ask you if I was mistaken, when I thought that you were not insensible to the passion that the Chevalier de Belges has for you; for, I fancy, that in your eyes I have red the secret of your heart; but, Madam, continued he, dare I be so bold as to confess my weakness, what I have  told you has troubled me, but not changed my resolution of endeavouring to enjoy you. I love you even to adoration, and yet that passion is not so great as the esteem that I have for you. I cannot think of yielding to another, unless I know that my pretensions displease you. In a word I need your help against yourself, that I may obtain a Victory for which of myself I am too weak: assist me then for pity's sake to us both; if it be so that you cannot love me, tell me the reasons that may oblige me to love you less. At these words he stopped expecting my answer; and though I found myself at a loss, yet, I saw, there was a necessity of declaring myself; yea and I had some hopes of moving him to compassion; so that striving against my natural bashfulness I answered him in these terms. When you thought that I was not insensible to the passion that your Kinsman hath for me, I confess, you have hit on the true sentiments of my soul; but I must tell you with the same candour, that if all my relations did agree to order me to mary you I would obey, though I be fully sensible, that that obedience would cost me the repose of my whole life. Think not, added I, that any aversion to you would have rendered my submission so grievous, but it is my heart that can love none but the Chevalier de Belges; it hath resigned itself to him without my consent; and when my reason examined the conduct of my heart it hath found so great worth in the Chevalier, that it hath approved the choice; so that nothing can dissolve an engagement which inclination and reason hath warranted. Good now, Madam, said he, tell me if you well foresee all the consequences of an affair which seem so dangerous to you. The long experience that my years have furnished me with, assures me that merit alone completes not the felicity of this life; and that the contempt of Riches, which many brag of, is a kind of Philosophy easy in the theory, but very difficult when it is put in practise by pinching necessity. Consider then what you are about to do: I am rich and old; the one promises you a considerable settlement, and the other a short captivity. Cannot I move you to pity yourself and me. It surprises me, said I to the marquis, that you can have any esteem for me; and believe me capable to bend my thoughts to such low and base things; and since you will not understand what I have already  told you concerning the real sentiments of my heart; I must again tell you, that there is nothing but what I would do to hinder me from being yours; but if I be constrained to it by reasons of honour and duty, which I cannot resist, I shall not be guilty of the least word or desire that may displease you, or contradict the virtue whereof I make profession; and though that violence should cost me my life, I should more contentedly lose it, than be guilty of any thing wherewith I might be reproached. What you have represented to me as to my interest and advantage, might have wrought upon me, were I not to involve the Chevalier into a share of my pains; and the friendship I have for him is so disinterested, that I would do any thing to please him, though at the expense of that which might be dearest to me. With these words I stopped expecting his answer. I thank you, Madam, said the marquis, for your sincerity; and though I was prepared to hear a part of what you have  told me, yet I must confess it hath deeply affencted me. Having said so he held his peace and fell again a musing; shortly after renewing his discourse; but what cause have I to complain, said he; have you not assured me that you will obey your friends, and can I desire more of you? I was surprised at these last words, and employed all the eloquence that heaven had bestowed on me, to persuade the marquis of Doursan, that a Gentleman could never be happy, when he enjoyed his Mistress by forcing her inclination. I was still engaged in this discourse, when the Company left off playing, and drew near the bed where we were; but because it was late, it was thought fit to withdraw, and as the Company went away they made a short stop in the Chamber of the Chevalier de Belges: where I had not the occasion to speak so much as one word to him without witnesses. Next day we were  told that the marquis had relapsed into his Fever. That accident was by all attributed to the noise that had been made in his Chamber; but I knew other more probable and apparent reasons for it. One evening having shut myself up in my Chamber, that I might mournfully reflect on the unhappy state of my fortune, my uncle came in and  told me that pressing reasons obliged him to entreat me to go with him to my Lady of Rocheville's house, and that it highly concerned me to hasten thither with all imaginable secrecy. I was surprised at such an extraordinary proposal, and earnestly desired him to tell me the reason of so sudden a journey. He promised to satisfy me by the way; and seeing I always pleased myself with the hopes of seeing my Lady of Rocheville again, and that the hurry and perplexities that I met with at Avignon made my abode there uneasy, I seemed inclinable to undertake that journey: so that having spent two or three hours in ordering some little affairs that I had to do, and in taking leave of my Relations, I was ready and took Coach. The night was calm and fair, and we made as great progress in our journey, as if it had been day. I was very desirous to have acquainted the Chevalier de Belges with my departure; but seeing it was difficult to find at such an hour those whom I used to trust in delivering him my Letters, I was satisfied to forbear until I came to the place whither I was going, which might furnish me with a great many occasions to let him speedily hear from me. I endeavoured on the road to satisfy the curiosity which so strange an adventure excited in me; but my uncle turned all my questions into raillery; and I came to Rocheville without discovering any thing of what I desired to know upon that subject. The Marchioness of Rocheville received me with the sincerest testimonies of affection; and so soon as I was at liberty I gave her an exact account of all that had befallen me, since I left her; who with her accustomend goodness  told me that my interest in every thing was her own.  
I had not been there above five or six dayes, when on an evening, as I was fetching a walk I saw a Coach come to the gate, which I knew belonged to the Count of Freslon. That sight put me into a commotion which I could not resist when ever the Chevalier of Belges was concerned; but my trouble increased when I saw the Count of Freslon, after that he had saluted my Lady his Daughter, advance towards me, as a man that had somewhat to say to me; yet instead of a could and indifferent address which I expected from him, he applied himself to me with a kind and cheerful countenance. I know not, said he, presenting me a Letter, if the good news, I am  told you will find in that paper, may oblige you to have some goodness for him that has undertaken to deliver it; but I am confident if you be such, as I have been  told you are, I have ground to hope for some share in your friendship. I never found myself so tossed as I was at that time; and I may say, that joy, hope, and fear made such a confused medley in my mind, that having so many things to think on, I could think on nothing; and to complete my perturbation, whilst the Count of Freslon was in discourse with me, the Chevalier de Belges entered the Chamber where we were; who having been otherways diverted, when he came out of the Coach, had not instantly followed his Father. I cannot tell what answer I made to the discourse of the Count; but in all appearance my words spoken most the disorder of my mind. The Count of Freslon without minding that much, prayed me to red the Letter which he had delivered to me, wherein I found these, or words much to this purpose.  

IN fine, Madam; I have overcome, and if the greatness of the Victory be to be reckoned by the sharpness of the conflict, this that I have gained upon myself, is of inestimable value; but that I may not prove a false Bravo, I confess to you, that I could never have triumphed without the assista●ce you gave me. It is just then that I divide with you the price of the Victory. I reserve to myself no more than the pleasure of procuring your happiness, and the hopes that you will cherish my memory. This is all that I desire; and you shall judge, Madam, if my ambition be great, when you shall learn what I have done to procure you the only blessing whereof you have assured me you were sensible. I am still too much captivated to your charms, to hazard an interview so soon. When time and reason have confirmed my heart in the resolutions that I have taken, I shall come and rejoice with you, that I have purchased the happiness of your life by the full repose of my own.   
After the reading of that Letter, I continued wholly suspended betwixt compassion and the desire of being fully cleared of what I could hardly guess at, and durst not declare my curiosity; but my Lady of Rocheville, who was almost as curious as myself, besought her Father to tell us what we earnestly desired to know: which he did in this manner. Three or four dayes after I came to Avignon, the marquis of Doursan sent to entreat me to come to his Chamber; he discovered to me all the particulars of his Love for mademoiselle of Rocheville; and having described to me her merit and person, in such a manner as was necessary to excuse the violence of his passion, he  told me he was resolved to give her the most extraordinary mark of his love that could be given; but that he could not have that satisfaction without my concurrence. Though I could not imagine what service I was able to render him in that affair, yet I freely promised him, to do all that I could in his behalf. Having given him this promise, he  told me that he resolved to settle the half of his estate on the Chevalier de Belges in testimony of the obligation he had to him for having so generously exposed his life for the preservation of his, and that he would give him the other half, upon condition that he married mademoiselle of Rocheville. Having said so he  told me the obligations which my Son stood engaged in to that lovely Lady; but that which hath affencted me most sensibly is the candid and disinterested way of procedure that she hath always used towards these two Lovers. You may believe that the offers of the marquis of Doursan were every way too advantageous, not to be accepted with pleasure; and the rather seeing his nearest relations having basely forfeited all title to his goodness, nothing could hinder me from embracing the kindness which he desired to show to my Family. We had nevertheless about the end of our conference a pretty odd debate together, by my unwillingness to accept the whole estate wherewith that generous Kinsman had a mind to gratify our Family. Having at length prevailed upon my unwillingness, and all things being ordered as we judged most convenient, he prayed me not to delay the satisfaction of two persons who were dearest to him; and even desired that the matter should be kept so secret, that the Chevalier de Belges himself should be ignorant of the obligations he hath to him, until that neck of time wherein he might understand their value. This is the true account of what the Count of Freslon  told us. Had I not observed the transports of joy which the Chevalier de Belges expressed during that discourse, I should have believed that nothing could have equalled mine. But, Madam, it is no purpose to persist longer on this point. The Count of Freslon kept the word that he gave to his generous Kinsman of cellebrating our marriage with all the expedition he could. My uncle, who brought me to Rocheville, was there still, and had learnt from the marquis of Doursan himself all that the Count had  told us; but being obliged to secrecy, he would not till then discover it. In fine, Madam, that marriage so little expected, and so earnestly desired, was at last concluded. The Count of Freslon on that occasion omitted nothing, that might clear my mind of the discontents that I might have conceived against him. My Lady Rocheville seemed fully as sensible, as her Brother or I, of the happiness that we were to enjoy; there was none but mademoiselle of Freslon, who, according to her natural inclination, grieved at the felicity of others. For my part, I did not affect such a garb of unseasonable modesty, as to appear less sensible than indeed I was; and I thought it impertinent to conceal an affection which was in a few dayes to be warranted by an engagement, wherein though love be wanting yet it must be pretended. In a word, Madam, our marriage was solemnized; and though I needed no more but his person, who was designed for my Husband, to render that ceremony agreeable, and that his thoughts were the same with mine, yet nothing was wanting in pomp and magnificence to increase the pleasure of our Nuptials. At that time as in all other occasions of my life, the Marchioness of Rocheville persisted entreating me as if I had been her own Daughter. What shall I say, Madam, for the space of two years after my marriage, I thought that they, who say there is no perfect happiness in this life, were strangely mistaken; for by experience I felt, that there was nothing I could desire but the continuation of the blessings which then I enjoyed. I had a Husband who loved me almost to Idolatry; I had no less passion for him: my Father-in-law by all imaginable tenderness repaired the troubles he had caused me. My Brother-in-law, who would not leave Maltha, testified by Letter that he was abundantly satisfied with our marriage; and to complete my happiness, I so ordered matters, that my Lady Rocheville and I were inseparable. But at length, Madam, Fortune pursued me with her usual inconstancy; I mean, that having favoured me with great blessings; she frowned upon me by the greatest evils that I could apprehended; or to speak more Christianly, God Almighty was pleased to let me see, that none should set their heart on the blessings of this life; and that seeing our heart is created for him, he severely punishes the rape, when addicting it too much to the Creature, we forget him who is the Creator. I have not  told you, Madam, that the first year of my marriage, I was brought to bed of my Eldest Daughter, whom you see hear, the year following I had a boy, and was very ill all the time I was with Child, but received of my Lady Rocheville during my sickness such services and cares as cannot be imagined. When I began to recover, there happened a business that obliged her to return home; and seeing she did not expect to stay but a few dayes, she left with me mademoiselle of Freslon, and my Sister, who was a lovely young Lady, about thirteen or fourteen years old, and whom I had always tenderly loved. The day we expected her back, we were informed that she was fallen dangerously sick. I was smitten to the heart at the news, and immediately resolved, though I was near my time, and not well recovered from my sickness, to go see that dear Lady, that I might in some measure repay the services which I had received from her; but my Husband would by no means consent to the journey, and gave me so many reasons, which were indeed so just, that I durst not oppose them. He departed the same evening to go see his Sister, but his journey was almost useless; for she died four hours after his arrival, she had only time to pray him to have a care of her children, and to tell me from her, that she desired of me the same kindness for them, that she had had for me. You easily believe, Madam, what grief it is to lose a Sister, who is so tenderly beloved; yet though my Husbands affliction was inexpressible; after the first transports of it were over, he resolved to conceal the sad news from me, for fear that the grief, which he knew it would work in me, might not bring me to a relapse. He stayed as short time as he could in a place where he saw nothing but mournful objects; and seeing he had many things to order, he thought fit to charge his Sister with all that care. She had wit and experience enough in household affairs to discharge that office well. My two Brothers were at the college, and three of my young Sisters in a Monastery; in so much that my eldest Sister, staying with me, none of the Children were in the house when my Husband returned. He  told me that the sickness of my Lady his Sister was not dangerous; but that the Physitians believed it would prove long, and that she prayed me to sand her Sister back to her, and to keep her Daughter with me until she her self came for her. Though I perceived very well that my husband was more melancholic than he used to be, yet he  told me these things in so candid a way, that I doubted not in the least of the truth: I did even believe that my Lady his Sister was willing to remove mademoiselle of Freslon from me, seeing she had observed but little friendship between us before her departure. My husband acquainted her with the loss we had sustained, and the reasons why he would have her go that journey. Two months after the death of the Poor Lady Rocheville, I had so well recovered my health, as made it believed that that news could do me no considerable prejudice; it was discovered to me; and I was so sensibly affencted therewith, that I had ground to think that grief alone is not able to deprive us of life. Though at that time my Husband had business which obliged him to make a pretty long journey, yet he would not leave me in the sad condition wherein I was. mademoiselle of Freslon returned four or five months after her departure, and brought my Brothers with her, who had been taken out of the college for some formalities of justice to which their presence was necessary. Their coming renewed my affliction; but in a word, Madam, love is always more prevalent than friendship; I must needs yield to the entreaties that the Count made to me, that I would resume my accustomend humour. Amongst those that came from Rocheville, my Brothers brought with them a Valet de Chamber, who played rarely well on the Lute; and seeing I was always a great Lover of music, and that that instrument of all others suits best with melancholic people, I delighted to hear him play. The affairs which I  told you obliged my Husband to make that journey, grew so urgent that he could not delay them. When he took his leave of me, he many times adjured me to spare nothing that might divert me from melancholy. Besides he earnestly recommended the care of me to his Sister, who of late had begun to show me a great deal of kindness. During the absence of my Husband,( seeing the little diversion that is to be found in the country, makes people willingly apply themselves to the smallest recreations) I took an humour to learn to speak Italian. I had already a smattering knowledge of that tongue, but it was no more than to understand it; and you have, possibly, found by experience, that when people love sincerely, they do nothing but what has some reference to the person belvoed, so I fancied to myself a pleasure in writing Italian Letters to my Husband; because that tongue without doubt expresses better than any other language the tender sentiments of a heart. My eldest Brother was sometime my Master in that study, but his own skill being but small, he  told me that his Valet de Chamber could teach me far better than himself, seeing he was an Italian; and I had observed by his accent, when I heard him speak that he was a stranger. The young man gave me a lesson every day after dinner, and I found by his discourse, that he was more witty than such persons use commonly to be. On a day when I asked him where he had learnt to play so well on the Lute, he, weeping, answered me, that he was not born for the employment which he discharged, that he was a Gentleman, and of a family considerable for estate: that he was bread with great care, but that his Father having fallen into an unlucky accident, they were banished from their country, so that he was forced to betake himself to service, and that finding his humour a little too stiff to serve an imperious Master, he choose rather to wait on my Brothers, whose age and mildness gave him ground to expect less trouble than he could have any where else. I asked him his name, and the place where he was born. He prayed me to excuse him from giving me that satisfaction, because the hopes he had of recovering his former condition, made him unwilling that any body should know what he had been obliged to do. That discourse of Valantin, for so he was name, moved me to compassion. He begged of me not to discover to any body, what he had  told me, assuring me it was of great consequence to him, that it should be kept secret. I promised him what he desired; but after that day, gave orders to the other Servants of the house, to treat him with some respect; and I had somewhat more also for him myself, because besides what he had discovered to me, I daily perceived that the Lad had wit, and dexterously performed every thing wherein he was employed; and I was the rather persuaded of the truth of what he  told me, because he was free from all vices, to which such young men are commonly subject. For that reason I was very glad to have him stay with my Brothers. Some dayes before they were to be sent back again to the Academy, Valantin fell sick, so that he could not go with them. About that time my Husband returned from his journey; and seeing then I had no need of other diversion, when I was with him, I minded no more playing on the Lute nor learning Italian; but I continued to have a care of Valantin, who was still sick. At that time there happened an accident which hath occasioned me much trouble. A Gentleman of quality of our neighbourhood at my desire, proposed to a Kinsman of his in languedoc, a marriage with mademoiselle Freslon; and on that occasion matters were carried on in the usual way that is observed in most part of marriages; that is to say, all things were ordered before the parties had seen one another: but by ill luck, when the pretended Gallant came to make his first visit, he found mademoiselle of Freslon so disagreeable, and my Sister on the other hand so lovely, that he took a strong resolution to forsake the one and make love to the other. He that concerned himself in the affair, in vain represented to him that his carriage was altogether unworthy and injurious, and that assuredly we would never give consent to the design he had for my Sister, having misbehaved himself towards a person so nearly related to us: but that was not the only occasion wherein we have experience that Love submits not to the Government of reason. I shall not give you the trouble to hear all the particulars of that adventure: I must only tell you that the Cavalier had but the half of what he desired, that is, that the marriage with her whom he loved not was broken, and was refused the other for whom his affection was great. Seeing nothing offends our Sex so much as a slight, you may believe mademoiselle de Fresson was not a little concerned at that affront. Her hatred to me increased; and though I had shewed such civility to her, as was no less than injustice in respect of my Sister, since I hindered her from a considerable match; yet she could not away with any of these reasons, and thought her self obliged to be revenged on me because my Sister was beautiful. The love I bear my Husband makes me loathe to come to this part of my discourse, wherein I must of necessity give you ground to blame his conduct; but, In fine, it is his will that I should acquaint you with that part of his life, as I have done with all the rest. I must tell you then, Madam, that sometime after the marriage, I have spoken of, was broken off, I observed the Count to be very melancholic. Since I had always found his temper even and regular, I apprehended the alteration might proceed from some indisposition; I carefully enquired into the cause of that molancholick for which I found no ground. He  told me it was an effect of his constitution, whereat I should not be troubled. As I could perceive no more apparent cause for it, so I took that excuse for currant coin. I imagined, that perhaps the great confluence of people that were at our house displeased him; so that when company came, I found always some pretext to retire into my Chamber, and employed myself about some trifle. The Count several times asked me why I did so; and seeing I durst not tell him the truth of my suspicions, I alleged many times silly reasons to colour what I did. One day, when I was alone in my Chamher, my Sister  told me, that she had a thing to acquaint me with, and that she was afraid I would not like it. I  told her she would always please me, if she discovered to me any thing that troubled her. The matter that I am to tell you, added  shed, concerns one who is nearly related to you, and I should not have spoken, had I not been apprehensive that it may do you some mischief. I bid my Sister quickly declare what she had to say. She  told me that Valantin had great familiarity with my Sisterin-law; that she had several times found her two hours after midnight sitting on his bed, and that there was hardly any day, but that they had some conference together; but that they were as secret as possible they could, and that she durst not seem to take notice of their commerce. I  told my Sister that she ought not to judge so rashly of her Aunt, and that she should have a special care never to speak to any body of that suspicion. When I had reflected upon what my Sister  told me, I found the matter but too probable; and that made me resolve to sand Valantin immediately back to my Brothers; but being afraid to exasperate mademoiselle of Freslon against me, I was willing to ask her opinion concerning the departure of the young man. She seemed to be much against it; which put me, into a greater plunge. She  told me, that she was to go to Rocheville, and that he must not be sent away before her return, because there were reasons of consequence that it should be so. My Husband was not present, when we had this conference; he had quiter changed his humour; and whereas in the first years of our marriage we were inseparable: at that time he shunned my Company as much as he could. Never did any lye under such anxiety, as I suffered; the more I examined myself, the less could I perceive from whence my misfortune proceeded; and to complete my misery, I began to think that some new amour might banish me from the heart, where I believed myself so well settled. That thought made me so sorrowful and peevish at the same time that I received all things snappishly. Seeing my jealousy had no precise object, I was the more disquieted; and resolved to gain some of my Husbands Servants. One night when we were in bed together, and that I upbraided him a little with his carriage towards me, to which he made little or no answer, he asked me of a sudden if I did not think of sending Valantin to his Masters. I thought the asked me that question only to break off the discourse that we were upon; and that having put me quiter out of humour, I  told him that I was much troubled at the perplexity my Relations put him into; that I did not believe that the expense of single man should have so disturbed him; but that I should take order for that. The Count made no answer to these words; but turned himself to the other side in a huff. We spent the rest of the night both of us without sleep; and it was scarcely day when he took his Gown to rise. For all the discontents that I had against him, yet I repented that I had spoken to him so briskly, so that I made some attempt to persuade him to lie still; but he  told me that he had a meeting about a business of consequence, and that he thought he could hardly be back before two or three dayes; having said so he called a Valet de Chamber to dress him. I peeped through the Curtains that I might observe him whilst he stayed in my Chamber; I saw him walk up and down, like a man in extreme disorder, and afterward drawing near my bed. farewell, Madam, said he, may Heaven restore to us that repose whereof we both stand in need. With these words he left my Chamber, and went into his dressing room. I lay still in so great perplexity, that I knew not what course to take; I had several times a mind to have gone and thrown myself at my Husbands feet: but taking myself to be injured, and that my conscience upbraided me with nothing relating to him, unless it were of too great love; I knew not what to do; I called my Maids that I might rise, and at the same time heard a noise of horses in the Court; starting up, to see what the matter was, I saw the Count taking horse attended only by own Valet de Chamber. I had at first a mind to have called to him, but seeing that he took but one Servant with him, I thought he would return by night: I spent the whole day in extraordinary perturbation. Pretty late in the evening my Sister came and  told me, that Valantin b●gg'd of me that he might speak with me in private unperceived of any. I thought he might have some matter of importance to acquaint me with in relation to mademoiselle of Freslon, and therefore I sent him word, that he might come into my Chamber when she had retired: and I was very willing to have informed the Count of what Valantin  told me concerning his Sister; but seeing he was not like to return that night, I imagined that the Lad might have discovered something of my Husbands pretended gallantry, and that he intended to impart it to me. When all the house had retired, Valantin came into my Chamber: I was sitting in a Chair by the fire, and had sent out my Maids, telling them that I expected the Count that night, and that how late soever it might be, I would not go to bed till I heard some news of him. So soon as the Lad came into my presence, he cast himself down at my knees, and begged me Pardon for the effects of an extravagant passion: you will be surprised, Madam, said he, when you know that at your feet lies prostrate a Maid, whose name and adventures are not unknown to you. I am Felicia●, Madam, and that name alone may make you guess at some part of my adventures; I believed the Count your Husband to have been in love with me, and I sincerely loved him; the grief that I conceived when he slighted me, had almost laid me in my grave. I was sick a whole year, and was glad that I thereby lost that little beauty which nature had bestowed on me, because having no return of love from him that I loved, I cared no more for being lovely. In fine, Madam, I had still a little beam of hope grounded on a horoscope, and that it might succeed, I changed my name and habit, and having gone to Rocheville, where I understood the Count was, I found not him, but mademoiselle of Freslon his Sister: next day after I came thither, I heard a conference which she had with a woman, wherein she seemed to give marks of a mortal hatred against you, and that she sought occasions of doing you prejudice. The knowledge of that made me discover myself to her; and she assured me that she would do all that lay in her power to revive in her Brother his former flamme; though that seemed no easy matter so long as he entertained the same sentiments for you that he had at that time: that she knew his humour; that nothing but jealousy could work any great effect upon his mind: but it puzzled her exceedingly that your conduct gave him no cause of conceiving any. What shall I say more, Madam, I have been made use of to inspire that passion into the Count; and it has in some manner succeeded: but when his Sister perceived that he broken not forth in violence enough against you, she proposed to me to poison you. I looked upon that crime with horror, and the indifference that the Count has for me hath cured Valantin of the evils that Felicia suffered; I have endeavoured to behold the Count with the same eyes that heretofore I thought so powerful on his heart; I got his Sister to speak twice to him of Felicia at my first coming hither: he answered her that he had given you his promise never to listen to any discourse concerning that Maid, and that he had no mind to break his word: his indifference for me hath cured me of a passion that for above these eight years hath tyrannized over me. I promised mademoiselle of Freslon to do to you all that she desired, for fear she might apply her self to some other more wicked than myself. Take now your measures a tos the information I give you, and Pardon me for all the troubles that I have caused you; having said so, she delivered me a packet of the Counts Letters; with a Bracelet of his hair, and  told me she would be gone next morning, and put her self into a Monastery. She begged of me money to buy a womans apparel, telling me, that after the crosses she had met with, she would never again return to her own country. As she ended her discourse she bowed down and kissed my hand. I protest, Madam, I was so troubled and moved at what I had heard, that I could not forbear to  shed tears. Felicia  told me so many other things, that I made no doubt of the truth of her words. I took out of my pocket all the money. I had, and gave it to that poor maid, telling her, that if she needed more I would go fetch it out of my closet; but she kissing my hand accepted what I gave her, and as she arose to be gone, I embraced her, telling her all that I thought proper to comfort her in the sad condition wherein she was. She presently went out of my Chamber. But, good God, Madam, how can I express my surprise, when I saw the poor Maid having made a great cry fall to the ground run through with a sword; and having gone to the door, I perceived my Husband hastily running down stairs. The violence of my grief had almost put me in the same condition, that Felicia was in, and I fainted away. The noise that that accident made awakened my Maids, who were asleep in another Chamber, the Chaplain was called for and came in time to give the absolution to that poor Maid, who lived almost two dayes after. I saw nothing of what I tell you; for I lay above four hours in a swoon. When I was come to myself again, the first thing I did was to ask tidings of my Husband. I was informed that the Count passing through a hall that joined to my Chamber met Felicia, as they were carrying her away; and that having beholded that spectacle with horror, he returned that he might go out. For pity sake, said that poor Maid to him with a stronger voice than could be expected from her, deny me not the last svit that I am to make to you, it is no more but that you would with patience hear me speak one word; and I assure you, that I shall be so far from bewailing my own condition, that as Valantin I pardon you, but, as Felicia, give you thanks that by a favourable thrust you have put an end to the troubles which I suffered for your sake; my present state admits not of a longer discourse, and I ought to spend my last minutes in taking care for my Soul; but I am forced to tell you, that I am afraid Heaven will punish you for the unjust suspicions you have conceived against the most Virtuous Lady that ever was: Farewell, added she with a dying tone; I die with content if the loss of my life may re-establish the repose of yours. Having said so, she made asign that they should carry her away. The Count, who began to hear that discourse by a bare inclination of natural compassion, fell into bitter regrets in the progress thereof; he discovered the truth of her words either by the features of her face, which he more narrowly considered, or by seeing her breast, which being opened that they might stop the blood, suffered none to doubt of the sex of Felicia. He was struck by that discovery as by a clap of thunder, he wanted words to express his grief and trouble, and his tears performed the office which his tongue could not. He fell on his knees before that poor dying Maid, and by doleful actions evidenced the sorrow that pierced his heart. Felicia by her carriage made appear that her thoughts were taken up about a future state, for closeing her eyes that she might not behold an object, that had always been too dear to her, deprive me not, said she, by an untimely p●●y, of the sole happiness I can pretend to; I thought myself bound in Christian duty to pardon you for my Death, and to justify injured innocence. Having satisfied that obligation, leave my mind in so much liberty, that I may perform what I owe to myself; with these words she begged to be conveyed to some place of retirement; and the vehemency of her discourse having made her wound bleed again afresh in so great abundance, that she was quiter spent; she turned again to the Count and prayed him to be gone. He obeied these her last orders, and came into my Chamber to see what condition I was in. He perceived that I continued still in fainting fits; and having beholded me for some time with a countenance full of grief, shane, and compassion, he went into his Closet, took out some money, and presently got on horseback, attended only by one Servant; none of the rest daring to ask him his design. So soon as I was come to myself again, I asked for my Husband; and was informed of all that I have  told you. Poor Felicia died next day with all the marks of contrition that might give ground to hope well of her Salvation. Since that dismal day, Madam, I have worn out my life in unconceivable affliction, for to sum up my sorrows, the Man, whom the Count had taken with him, came back again, and  told me that he stayed fifteen dayes for his Master at Thoulon, whither he had ordered him to go; but that having heard no news of him there, he believed he had taken some other way. I spared no pains nor cost to learn intelligence of him; but seeing the hour was not yet come which should deliver me from my troubles, all my searching was in vain. You are perhaps a little curious, Madam, to know what became of mademoiselle of Freslon, who was the cause of all these strange Catastrophies you have reason to think that she was certainly touched with compassion for all the calamities that she had brought upon her Family! but alas, she had not a heart that was sensible of pity; and if she had any grief, it was only because I had not met with the fate of Felicia. I understood by her own relation, that she had made use of the favours, that I shewed that unhappy Maid, whilst under the name of Valantin, I took her for a person of quality, to incite her Brother to jeallousie; I was likewise informed that the care I had to avoid company, served for a pretext to the malice of that wicked Lady. What more shall I tell you, Madam, all things seemed to conspire for my ruin, since it is certain that the last discourse I had with the Count quiter extinguished the little reason that remained to him. In fine, without speaking any more of all the pains that I have suffered since that sad day, I shall only tell you that the Bishop of G. having come to see me,  told me that there was an Hermit at Terrasson, who lead the life of an Angel, a relation whereof he had seen in the hands of my Lady duchess of C. I found myself strangely moved at that discourse without being able to conjecture the reason of it: In a word, Madam having done so many things in vain, I have at length undertaken one that, hath succeeded, I dare not say luckily until I know, whether or not the person, for whom I take all this pains, will be pleased to pity himself and me.  
This is, Madam, a true narrative of the History which my Lady Freslon  told me; I thought you would take in good part that I imparted it to you, and though her relation be nothing so pleasant; as if it had been a Romantick adventure, such as are all that now adays comes abroad under the title of Novels, yet I judged it so rare as that it might deserve your attention, when it is considered as a real story. I  told that Lady that I sensibly concerned myself in all the adventures she had related to me; and the truth is I looked upon it as a miracle, to find in this our age a Lady whom conjugal love had made undertake so many things. But at length God was pleased to reward so exemplary virtue, for the fifth day that the Countess was at my house, as we were taking a walk in the evening, we saw at a pretty distance a Gentleman making up towards us. I did not know him at first, but the Countess giving a great cry,  told me that she was much mistaken if it was not her Husband: when he drew a little nearer I found she was in the right. Had Heaven bestowed on me so much cloquence as our Romance makers really have, or believe they have, I might have a fair occasion to make an ample description of the effects of an unexpected joy; for, I think, never any felt more than that lovely Countess; she seemed so transported that I, who look not on marriage as the happiest of all other states of life, should advice all people to enter into that sacred bond, if they could often enjoy such ravishing pleasures. I do not think, Madam, that I can make use of a more significant expression to declare the happiness which these two persons enjoyed at that time; but having reflected on it a little better, I think it not ill done to dispense with pleasures that must cost so great pains, and that all things rightly considered there is no condition preferable to an absolute liberty. But I forget myself, Madam, in engaging on reasonings that may be tedious to you, after so long a relation; seeing time and duty do rather require, that without longer discoursing, I should with most profound respect assure you, that I am.  
Madam, Your most humble and obedient Servant. R.  
FINIS.