CHAP. II.

THree hours had the Suns beams enlight­ned the whole House, when none of this illustrious company were stirring but Mr. Ab­bot, who was walking alone in one of the Gar­den VValks. Madamoiselle de Armand (the win­dows on that side whose chambers are scituate in this manner, she call'd to her Madam d'Elus) with whom she lay, and beginning to laugh, do you not see (said she a loud to the end the Abbot might hear) Mr. Abbot, who is preparing his Talons to tear us to pieces this Evening, he is up very early; but I hope before the day ends, he may recant, or that hee'l repent; Ladies, answered the Abbot, if you have no greater an adversary than me, you have no reason to fear. I shall (perhaps) be obliged to keep my word if I am urged to it: Rut it shall be to say nought against you, than what I cannot forbear to re­late: VVe shall see that said Madam d'Elus to him; however it is not of so small a Conse­quence, as not [...] deserve the pains to think a little upon it. I counsel you (proceeded she) as a Friend, to betake your self to a place of safety in time, for you know it is natural to us to love revenge. As the Abbot was going to answer her, a great dogg that crost the VValk, chacing a Fowl, run against him with such vio­lence, [Page 16] that the fright of it had like to have made him fall all along: it is to be imagined how the Ladies laughed, the Lady Sindal, whose Lodg­ing was not far, came at this noise, and asked what the matter was? see you not (answered Madamoiselle d'Armand, (still laughing with­out measure) Mr. Abbot there against whom the whole Universe is set since he hath declared him­self against us; a dogg but even now had like to have devoured him; and I believe that it was upon out account that he hath spared him; for my part said the Lady Sindal, I am pleased that Mr. Abbot is still of one mind, and to see him resolute; for in lieu of a few injuries which he will invent against us, we shall receive from Monsieur d'Armenton a thousand praises; and I die with desire already to hear this dispute. The Chevalier d'Estapes, and the Baron d'Exaxe up­on this came to the Abbot, and added to the conversation. But it continued not long, be­cause the Duke sent to them to know if they would be for Hunting, that the weather was fair, and that they had nought to do, but to get themselves ready. The Ladies had a desire to be of the number; they were most agreea­bly received; nought else was thought on but breakfast; the Horses and Hounds were soon in a readiness: insomuch that in less than two hours, breakfast was done; they mounted on Horse-back, and into the spacious Fields they went. Dayes are not alwaies fortunate, nor [Page 17] always proper for Hunting: however this was, and they relished the pleasure so well, that they returned not till the Evening to Supper; our Hunters were almost starved: The Ladys had good stomacks, and there wanted not where­with to content them; for the Table was so sumptuously adorned, that I can hardly believe Paris can shew better chear; they begun with little or no discourse, because every one did his endeavour to feed well; about the middle of Supper some discourse passed concerning Hunt­ing: But at the last they fell upon the dispute that should serve for the conversation this Eve­niug; Mad [...]moiselle d'Armand failed not to set hpon Mr Abbot, nor he to defend himself well. The Duke took extream delight in it, and obser­ving, that not only the Ladys were against the Abbot; but some of the men, also he told him that he must needs have a good opinion of his own strength to hope to resist so many Ene­mies. It is not now Sir, (answered him the Abbot) that the Women have seduced the men, and that these unfortunate Creatures have tur­ned their own Weapons against themselves to please their Enemies, for so it is (continued he) we should call the Women since truth makes it appear, that they bring upon us the greatest part of our misfortunes. But when by their allurements they should get the whole Universe to themselves, none should never perswade me but that the men are far more perfect than the [Page 18] Women, and that he had that saith (VVoman) doth but name a work which Nature had forgot to nnish. The Duke which had a desire to see how the dispute would pass upon so gallant a subject; between two persons that had as much wit as any in the world beside, intreated the company for this time to continue with him, you may believe that there was none but who did willingly consent to the Dukes desire: so that when the Table was taken up, they sat round him as in the form of a Circle, and Ma­damoiselle d'Armand (who had ever the Office of Lieutenant to the Dutchess) told Mr. Ab­bot that it was time to begin if he had any thing to say against them, and that Monsieur d'Ar­menton was prepared for their defence, the ad­vantage is already large enough on my side (an­swered her the Abbot) and I'le willingly resign that priviledg to Monsieur d'Armenton, if I once begin I shall be troubled to make an end; and there is too much to be said in favour of my par­ty, that he will not know what to say, nor an­swer Triumph not so much before-hand (reply­ed his Adversary) lest you be overcome two manner of wayes: I am to make it appear, that the men are not more perfect that the women, as you pretend they are, and without amusing my self with any more Ceremonies. Since you will have me begin, I am going to set upon, see it; and will place the VVomen, and carry their Glo­ries even to a degree of perfection, which the men shall hardly be able to attain to.

This perfection (continue [...]he) that you will give the Men above the VVomen, must be remar­kable either in body or mind; and I [...] that in either, the VVomen at least do equalize the Men; they have in truth the Body more strong, more light, more expert, and more capa [...]le of hardship than the VVomen; but you your self will own, that this quality is no perfection, since among men themselves, they who have strength in a higher degree than other, are not the more esteemed for that; as to what toucheth the mind, it is constant that what a man under­standeth, a woman understands, or can under­stand, and that the apprehension is equal in both. After he had said this, he kept silence, to hear Mr. Abbot's answer; but because he made none, he proceeded in this manner: You know said he, that there is an argument main­tained in Phylosophy, that these are the delica­test bodies who are lookt upon to have the promptest VVits, and in this manner the VVo­men ought to have the most esteem wi [...]h their delicacy, since it is a ma [...]k of their liveliness. But let us forbear Philosophy, and hold in (if you will) with experience. I know there have been Philosophers enemies to women who said that Nature ever endeavouring to make [...]hings more perfect, if she could produce none but men; and that it was through e [...]ror she brought VVomen into the VVorld; but you must con­fess that there were poor Philosophers, and that [Page 20] Nature will bring forth a VVoman, when she produceth something, because it is a subject so necessary to the end she tends to, which is to conserve the kind. We need not read any Hi­story, either ancient or modern, to know that there have been VVomen that have waged VVar, and that have obtained Victories; that they had been seated upon Throans, and governed States and Kingdoms with an admirable pru­dence, and administer Justice with as much ri­gor and wisdom as the first Judges of the world. I dare say more, and I'll maintain that the men have not done any thing worthy commendati­on, but what the VVomen have done also; they have made it evident enough, that Sciences were not secrets for the men alone; they have penetrated as far as possible into them; and you are not ignorant that there have been of them that have understood Philosophy very well, and that have instructed men therein: Others that have been very expert in Poesie; yea they have gone even to the knowledg of the Laws, of which Study they have rendred themselves ve­ry capable; it would be something tedious to relate all that may be said upon this Subject, and to report that which an infinity of Authors have said for the VVomens advantage. It is true said the Abbot, that if you once enter into History, and when I am not permitted to inter­rupt you, these Ladies will doubtless believe you have conquered; but you are not yet [Page 21] where (perhaps) you think you are; believe it sometimes a dangerous consequence to pursue an Enemy, that maketh a feigned Retreat. It would be no difficult matter for me to answer to what you have said; but I will only bring one Reason in opposition to this pretended Fe­male perfection, which is, that the man resem­bling the Form, and the woman the matter; and that as the form is more perfect than the mat­ter, the Man is also more perfect than the VVo­man; but there is one thing which all the world knows, and which makes the advantage that we have above the Woman evident; it is that there are but few Women but would gladly be men; and very few Men that desire to be Wo­men. If you have no better Reasons replied Monsieur d'Armenton smiling, my glory will be but small in having vanquished you, they are such cold ones (continued he) that they are ca­pable of freezing our understandings in the hot­ter weather of this season. This unhappy Sex have reason to have these desires, not for their being more perfect, but to deliver themselves from the unsupportable Yoak of men; and for the enjoyment of Liberty, which their only Tyranny hath ravished from them. But I pray tell me what comparison is there of the matter and form with the Man and the Woman? the matter hath its essence from the form, and can­not be without it; whereas the man and the Woman receive from each other an equal perfe­ction; [Page 22] and if the Woman cannot be without the Man, the Man also cannot be without the VVo­man. I pray Gentleman (interrupted them Ma­dam d'E [...]us, I leave these terms of matter and form, which make us sick at heart, and speak us in a more intelligible manner, since it is our process that is in action. I must necessarily de­fend my self, answered Monsieur d'Armenton) in the like manner I am set upon, and fight with equal arms; but let it not seem tedious to you, I'll not leave o [...] before I have made my self well understood: VVhat you say there (said the Abbot) is not because you judge your cause so good, that injustice you should come to what you say; but it is the good Opinion you have of your own understanding, that causeth you to promise your self success in things the most difficult; you may notwithstanding be decei­ved: in the mean while I pray tell me, if through their natural qualities the man is not already more perfect than the VVoman, since he is hot of completion, whereas she is cold: You see said Monsieur d'Armenton, turning to Mada­moiselle d'Armand, how Mr. Abbot returns a­gain to Philosophy? Answer me only (inter­rupted him the Abbot inconsiderately to what I ask you, if the heat that acts of it self, and which is capable of production, is not more noble than the cold, which can do nothing without the heat? If VVomen who are hardly composed of any humor but this, can do any [Page 23] thing, where feebleness and timidity be not? I I know not (said the Lady Sindal) whether Mr. Abbot useth Philosophy or no? but I ap­prehend that what he saith is not to our ad­vantage: I tell you said Monsieur d'Armenton, that he useth his strongest Arguments, and in a small time you will see where he will he will be reduced. I agree (proceeded Monsieur d'Ar­menton,) that Heat in it self is more perfect than Cold: but it is not the same in things com­posed, and which we call mixt, as Men and VVomen are for then it would fall out, that the hottest bodies should be the most perfect, which is fal [...]e, sin [...]e there is nothing but what is tem­perate hath a true perfection. Let us add, that VVomen are in e [...]ect of a cold Temperature, in comparison of Men, who for being too hot, stray from perfection, which is not found but in things that are temperate; but VVomen as to themselves are not too cold; and they ap­proach nearer to that perfect state we speak of than men; for they have in them this moisture which is proportionable to the natural heat, that the too great driness in men dissipates and consumes too soon: but if timorousness in VVo­men be as you say, a mark of imperfection, it is not from their constitution that it cometh, but from a too great liveliness of wit, which instantly representing them the objects in the understanding, is the cause that they are so easily terrified; because they have not the lei­sure [Page 24] to consult their reason upon that which strikes them so suddenly; and this cannot be termed imperfection, since it proceeds from so fair a cause.

You may see many men that have neither fear of death, nor any thing else; and yet they may not be termed Valiant men, because they know not dangers, and go amazedly where the Ca­reer is open; These actions proceed from a fi­ery Brutality, and from a cloudy Understan­ding; and without know ledg fools are not peo­ple of a great courage. True valour depends upon a mans proper resolution, and upon a will determinately bent to do something; and to e­steem Glory and his Duty above all things in the world; besides, a man like this will meet death in necessary occasions, although he knows the peril to be evident; his mind will be con­stant, and heart-couragious to pursue (with­out trouble) an enterprize even to the end. We have seen many VVomen act with this force and courage. We know that they have done acti­ons so full of Glory, that the Men have been no­thing comparable to them, and I believe I shall not say so much, when I say, that antiquity cannot show us any of considerable merit. But it may be made appear that his VVife, his Daugh­ters, or his Sisters Fame hath equalized this. VVill you have more? The Company shall see when they please, that there have been a great number of VVomen that have brought Honour [Page 25] to their Families, and that have withdrawn men from their faults. All those Reasons (answered him the Abbot) which experience contradicts, me thinks are not good: and certainly if I as­ked you who these admirable VVomen were from whom the Men have received some Ho­nour: I believe I should entrap you if there be any thing (said Monsieur d Armenton) that might entangle me; it would be the too great number of Examples that there are of what I say; and if I feared not to say those things which the company already knoweth, I would begin with the History of Dctavia VVife to Mark An hony, Sister to Augustus; there is no Body her-but knows this History, as well as that of Porcia, the Daughter of Cato, and VVife of Brutus: Who hath not heard of Caja Cecilta the Wife of Tarquin Prisens of Corne­lia, Daughter to Scipio, and of I know not how many others, that are not only known among our Ladies, but among the strangest and most barbarous Nations. Was there ever a worthier action seen, than that of Alexan dra Wife to A­lexander King of the Jews? how she saved two Children she had of this King from the fury of the People, and in the same moment delivered the body of her dead Husband from the most ca­lumnious outrages that enraged people are ca­pable of committing upon the Body of a Ty­rant.

You will oblige us extreamly Sir, (said the Councess d'Ancyre inter rupting him) if you would take the pains to recite this History to me; for I believe that it is not come to the knowledg of these Ladies, no more than it is to mine. This Queen, re [...]ied Monsieur de Armen­ton, seeing all the people in an uproar and rea­dy to tall upon her two Children to sacrince them to bondage, where they had kept their Father: She cause I the Body of her Husband her self to be brought into the middle of the place, where he Citizens being tumuituously a semble I to see what she would do; this great Queen spoke to them after this sort.

I know but too well, O ye Jews! the Rea­sons that you have to be thus animated against my Husband: I know how much your Cause is just, and that he hath used you too illy while he lived, not to be punished by You in his death. I intreat you only to call to mind what I have done for you; if I have not taken your parts as much as I could possible; if I have not indeavoured to withdraw him from his Tyran­nick Humor: and how many Evils have my tears and prayers saved you from? and yet all this is nothing in comparison of what I would have done for you, had Heaven seconded my designs, I believe you doubt it not: But to give You more certain tokens of it, I'll be the first that will revenge your Cause for the injustice and ty­ranny which you have suffered; here's the Bo­dy [Page 22] upon which You must pour your Choler and Revenge. Let us exercise all sorts of Cruel­ties upon him; only if it can be, let us pardon the innocence of two poor Creatures, whose crime is no other than in being the Unfortunate Off-springs of too cruel a Father. These ten­der Babes never did you any harm. It would be a sttange injustice to make them suffer for their Fathers Crimes, and me-thinks you should owe some mercy to the tears of a Mother, who hathso often obtained it for you.

These words proceeding from the mouth of this wise and generous Queen, wrought such effect upon the peoples spirits, that their fury was converted into Love; the same men that shoule have been these Childrens executioners, became humble and affectionate Subjects. The Mothers tears of sorrow were changed into tears of joy; and the respect which she inspired into all this people, was so great, that for her sake they Erected a Famous Sepulchre, for the same Body that should have served for matter to satisfie their hatred upon.

Mengeur d'Armenton because he would give the company leisure to speak their thoughts, up­on this action made a small pause and afterwards proceeding again in his discourse: VVho can be ignorant (said he) how the VVife and Sister of Mithridates out-braved, or at least welcomed death, more generously than Mithridates him­self; and how the VVife of Asdrubal had less [Page 28] fear of it than Asdrubal: You know too that the Daughter of Dierom of Siracusa would have no other Tomb than the incendiary of her Native Soil. VVho contradicts you Monsieur d'Armenton (said Mr. Abbot, interrupting him) where doth his obstinacy lead him? don't you imagine you see this VVoman, who not know­ing how to reproach her Husband with more injuries (who plunged her in a VVell, that the water covered her head, yet made a sign to him with her hands, to let him know what he was.

This explication gave the Company cause e­nough of Laughter, insomuch that Monsieur d'Armenton took up the word, as a man ever rea­dy for an answer. Obstinacy saies he, merits praise, and may pass for Vertue when it is to maintain the truth; the VVomen have given us a thousand Examples of this rare Obstinacy; or to give it its proper Name of this Constancy, which in my Opinion is the most difficult of all Vertues. VVhat do you think (Mr. Abbot) of Epicaris that famous Courtizan of Rome, who knew of the Conspiracy against Nero, and who had the forceand courage to endure the cruellest Torments that this Monster of Nature could invent against her, rather than she would reveal any of the Conspirators, wherees so many Great men, as well Noble-men as Senators at the sight only of what Epicaris had suffered, accused even their own Parents, Brethren and [Page 29] Children. VVho is it yet that will not admire the vertue ef Lyonida, to whom the Atheniaus dedicated a Lyon of massie Copper, without a tongue, to honour the Secret that she had kept at the sight of all the Torments imaginable; and which she likewise endured rather than she would reveal the conspiracy in hand against the Tyrants. Me-thinks (said Madam d'Elus) that Monsieur d'Armenton passeth but lightly over such Heroical actions as these are, especially before such an Enemy as we have here, who would perhaps rejoyce that no Body knew them. In effect added the Lady Sindal, Mon­sieur d'Armenton should relate these Histories something more at large: That our Glory may shine the bright ter, for there are in the world a great many women slanderers; it shall be none of my fault (answered her Monsieur d'Armen­ton) that you are not saitsfied, so that you will but lend me a patient ear. It was (continued he) a custom at Marseilles, (which it is thought was brought from Greece to keep pub­lickly a certain sort of Poyson made with Her, purposely for those that could prove to the Se­nate, that they had lawful meanes to quit this life, and so to give themselves death: Some be­cause they were too unfortunate, would seek by death to deliver themselves out of trouble; O­thers being in the height of Prosperity, for fear their Fortune should happen to chance if they lived long; it hapned in the time that Sentus [Page] [Page] [Page 24] Pompeius.— Here (said the Abbot interrup­ting him) is the beginning of anne Fable: You see Ladies said Monsieur d'Armenton how Mr. Abbot doth alwaies indeavour to interrupt me; if you were not a party concerned, I would intreat you to inflict some punishment upon him; [...]ut the greatest prejudice that I can do him (I believe) is to continue my S [...]ory with­out amusing my self with what he saith. In the time thereof Sextus Pompeius a very beautiful Lady presented her self before the Senate of Marseilles, to obtain this Tra [...]ical Grace, and having made them see the necessity there was for her Repose, to be delivered from the mise­ries of Life, she took the Cup where the Poy­son was, and spoke so resolutely, and with so little fear of death, that Sextus Pompeius him­self was troubled to the heart, and the w ole Senate could not forbear weening after they had agreed that she should die. If this story be true, said Mr. Abbot; alas! how many poor Hus­bands have there been at Marseilles that have gone to demand of the Senare permission to die, to be delivered f [...]om their VVives. A [...]as! (replied the Countess d'Ancyre to him, instant­ly in the same note) how many unhappy women are there would drink this Poison now were it the custom, for to deliver themselves from the cruel bondage wherein their Husbands keep them. VVhat can a miserable woman do (added Madam d'Elus) where this must not remedy; [Page 25] when as the weakness of women obligeth them to sutler all without murmuring: It is true repli­ed the Abbot to them that the men are not a little obliged to this weakness, without which the women (who lova them but little) would put more weight upon their shoul [...]ers than they could be able to bear The Duke was the first that laughed heartily at this Reply; and the La­dies laughed so, that the dispute was some time delayed; after which Monsieur d'Armenton who had a desire to give the Abbot an answer to what he had said, viz. that the womens love was but small to the men: when is it (Mr. Ab­bot said he) that you heard or read of a Hus­bands testimony of his love to his wife, like to that of C [...]mma for her Husband Sinnatus. I know no more answered him the Abbot abrupt­ly) what you mean by Camma than I do by Sinatus, and all that I c [...]n say to you is, that if I would here recite the lamentation of poor Husbands, you would soon confess that the wo­men were Female-devils: There was not one Lady of the company but was set against him, and each did their indeavour to evil-treat him, one with her Busk, another with he [...] Fan, the third with a Cane, that the poor Abbot cried out like one in despair and complained that he was martyred for the Truths sake. He would notwithstanding this, not revcak what he had said, only to sweeten it; and for [...]eparation of Honor he Named them charming Devils. The [Page 32] Ladies at last let him be at quitt; the Noise ceased, and they gave ear to Monsieur d'Ar­menton, who went on with his discourse as fol­loweth.

Camma (said he) was a very beautiful wo­man, and there was nothing did equal it but her virtue; her duty was, that she esteemed above all things Signorix a principal man of the City where she lived, became in Love with her, and he used all the meanes he could to endeavour to perswade her to yield to his desire, and to give his Love content: but it was all to no pur­pose, nothing could shake the fidelity of so dis­creet a woman. Signorix believed that Sinna­tus her Husband was the only obstacle that spoi­led his pretensions, and that if he caused him to be killed, he should overcome half the resistance his Mistress made. It was easie for him to find the meanes, but it made him not the happier; and all his addresies after this Homicide gave him less encouragement than before, which cau­sed him at last to resolve to demand her of her Parents in marriage, who fearing the power of Signorix, used all their Arguments to perswade Camma to it; and they importuned her so much, that she condiscended, or rather seemed to do it, they conducted her to the Temple of Diaua, where Signorix waited to do the Cere­monies of Marriage. You know I fuppose what these Ceremonies were, and that a Cup is presented to them, out of which the married [Page 33] Couple drink in token of Alliance and Friend­ship; Camma had prepared a drink which she had by her, which was no other thing than a violent poyson that she had given her Mayds with order to bring it to the Temple to her; and having demanded it, when she came to drink, she drank half, and presented the rest to Siguorix, who drank it without difficulty, not imagining that the Ceremonies of his Marriage would be those of his death. After which this Woman was so transported with Joy, that her design had so good effect, she cast her self at the feet of the Statue, and pro­nounced these words.

Great Goddess thou knowest my heart; thou knowest how often I would have dyed to fol­low my dear Siwnatus! Thou knowest with what grief I have out-lived him, and that the only hope of revenge hath kept me alive till now; and now I have don̄e my duty, I dye contentedly, and will go to the only man I loved while I lived, and will love after my death if the Gods will give me leave; and then wicked wretch (continued she in addres­sing her self to Signorix) who thought to have supplied the place of him whom thou hast murthered, thou shalt go to the Sepul­chre after thon hast sacrificed to the shadow of my dearest Spouse.

Signorix furiously amazed at their words, and being already cruelly tormented with the [Page 34] effect of this Poyson, presently commanded re­medies to be brought to him; but they came too late; and Camma was so happy, that as she lay upon a bedd expecting death, she understood that the Tyrant was depar­ted; then was it that her joy redoubled, and that lifting up her eyes ro Heaven, she thus in­voked her dear Sinnadus; Dear Spouse (said she) now since I have given thee the last to­kens of my Love and Fidelity, and that thou hast received my tears and the revenge I owed thee, not having any thing else to do for thee in this world, I avoid it, and bid adieu with a sincere heart to this life, which without thee is insupportable. Come my dear Sinnatus! O come to my Soul! that denres nothing more than to embrace thee.

In ending these words, she ended her Life, and spread her arms abroad, as if she would really have embraced her Sinnatus: I believe said the Abbot to him, that you have a mind to make these Ladies weep; What I say to this is, that if this History be true, I know very well, that there are no more Camma's now in the world; but if there were such to be found, yet these Examples do not prove that which you did say, that there should be wo­men from whom the men have received great advantages. Is it possible (answered him Monsieur d'Armenton, to relate all at one time I was to let you see first, that the women [Page 35] loved their Husbands better than the Hus­bands loved their Wives; and the example of Camma maketh it plain enough; never did man show the like love for a Woman. It re­mains now to make appear that the men have received Honour, and great preferments by means of VVomen, nay and that they have themselves corrected them for their defects. It will be as little trouble (proceeded he) for me to maintain this Second Proposition, as it was for the first antient times (said he) furnish us with matter ample enough, and these mo­dern times do no less; there are none of you I suppose but know what the Sivtlls were formerly, by whose mouth God did reveal many things that must and are come to pass. You know how many of them have had for their Desciples men of great Authority; as Arpatia Diotima, and so many others which we can not be ignorant of: The last of those which I named caused the Pestilence to cease for ten Years which should have raged in A­thens, by means of her Sacrifices which she Offered. I could recite to you the Story of Nicostrata Mother to Evandra, who taught the Latines the knowledg of Letters: and of another woman whose Name I have forgot, who was Mistress to the samous Poet Pindd­rus. How many have there been that were very well skilled in Poesie, as Corinna and Sappho; but we need not go far, we shall [Page 36] frnd if we will but give our selves the trouble, to examine things more nearly, that the Women have been the original cause of the Greatness of Rome. This (said the Abbot to him) I knew not before, and you will oblige me extream­ly to tel me how: You shall hear replied Mon­sieur d'Armenton; you know that the City of Troy being taken, many of the Trojans left their Country to seek a better Fortune else-where. They embarqued in Ships, a great many of which after they had been beaten with the tempests, and ran a thousand dangers upon this terrible Element; they came at last to take Port in Italy, upon the Coasts where the River Tiber glides into the Sea; they lan­ded, plundered the Country, and by the ma­nagement of their weapons they got where­withall to keep them from want. VVhile they were busied with these actions, their VVives, who fea red nothing so much than that they would to Sea again, being one day gathered together in a held by the Sea-side, determined by thane swasions of one of the principal of them whose Name was Roma, to put an end to their troubles, and in good time to deliver themselves from those hazards they should venture upon the Seas, and from all those in­commodities that are to be endured in that wandring Life that they lead, since they had left their Country to follow their Hus­bands.

They as soon found out the means as the design, which was to set fire to their ships, which they did after they had taken all those things out of them that were necessary for them: It was to be feared that this strange action would cause their Husbands displeasure, as being a considerable loss for them; they pre­pared themselves to appease them, and pre­lented themselves before them to prevent them; they made them so many Feasts, show­ed them so much Friendship and used so ma­ny Caresses and Dalliances, that in the end they disposed them to receive this News with mildness. These unhappy Fugitives seeing no other refuge, after the destruction of their ves­sels, were obliged to make themselves an abode. The Land where they were appeared very pleasant; they found the Natives to be of a good and civil behaviour, and they believed that after all, it was not the worst part their wives had constrained them to take; they built them a City then which was afterwards called Roma; the name of her that first gave the counsel before-mentioned: I need not add to this the History of the Sabines, since it is too well known. Thus far said (Mr. Abbot) you have done very well; but You tell us nothing of that woman that betrayed Rome, and who showed the Enemies the way to the Capitol; which thing was enough to have destroyed the City and all the Romans together. Is it not [Page 38] unseemly done of you (answered him Mon­sieur d'Armenton) thus to alledge one only action of a Naughty woman, among such an infinite number of Glorious ones, which I could yet mention besides those I have already spoken of. Do you know why continued he, that Temples have been Erected to We­nus, armed to Wenus the bald head. Do you know why a Feast was ordained for the Goddess Inno, and celebrated by none but Maids. You see where I am, and how I could entertain you thus a great while, if I would make use of all that I know in favour of the part I have taken; but I must leave that to some other that may do it better than I, and to whom it would be no difficult matter if they would, to let you see that the women have not only corrected the men for their sai­lings; but that they have conducted them the way to their duty. VVhat! (Monsieur d'Armenton said Madam the Dutchess) after you have gone thus far, would you leave the victo­ry to the power of your Enemy; you have it in your Hands, and it will be your fault if it be not wholly obtained. It is true Sir, (added Madam Sindal) that you should consider that if Mr. Abbot, or any other of the Company think it troublesom to give you attention, there is never a Lady present but will keep si­lence to hear you with extream delight, and will give you those praises you merit: His [Page 39] Generositie is the greater (added Madamoiselle d'Armand) to fight thus for us against him­self. VVhat you say there, Ladies (replied Monsieur d'Armenton) is doubtless very ob­liging on my behalf; but you will pardon me if I tell you, that the truth nearer looked in­to, will make it seem otherwise because me­thinks a man deserveth but little praise for do­ing what his duty required; and when he Combats for that Sex that Honor and Glory obligeth him to serve: Although the Scales may be equally ballanced in the maintaining either your party or mine when the price of both is known: It is easie (said the Lady Sindal) for a Person of your knowiedg to turn things how you please. But as Generous and witty as you are, you cannot forbear praising your self extreamly. I'll assure you Madam (answered her Monsieur d'Armenton) that being far from any such design, I should re­joice to have you alwaies continue in the same belief, and that the little service I have done you, were altogether worthy of your esteem. VVith all our esteem (said the Dut­chess) I can scarce believe, that we can suffi­ciently require the Obligation we owe you; but if you will perswade us that our esteem is worth esteeming; make an end I pray to merit all that which we are capable of giving you. After such Obliging words (Monsieur d'Ar­menton) could no longer defead himself from [Page 40] going on with the rest of his discourse; inso­much that looking upon the Abhot, and be­ginning to laugh, it was not my design Sir, (said he to him) to draw all your hatred up­on me. But since I am engaged by these La­dies, Honour obligeth me to serve them to death it self. Philip (continued he without giving the Abbot time to answer him) Lieu­tenant to Demerrins, lying before the City Cia, which he had long Besieged, caused his Herau [...]d to proclaim under the walls of this Ci­ty, that he would give liberty to the woman, and slaves that would come and take resuge in his Army.

The women of Cio were so enraged at such a shameful Proposition, that was to much a­gainst their Courage and Honour, that they took up Arms, made a sally out upon them, and fought with so much valour, resolution, and good Fortune, that they constrained Phillip to retire from under their Town­walls where they lay encamped, and from whence their Husbands could never drive them. The same women did another Action no less considerable, than that I have already told you, it is that Philip at last becoming master of Cio: The Inhabitants were per­mitted to retire where they pleased. The woman would accompany the men in this vo­luntary exile, and the greatest part took up their dwellings in Leucrnia; they were not [Page 41] long before they were troublesomly engaged in a new war, which the Critheans their Al­lies raised against them, and who besieged them in their City; and they were in such great constraint, that they were reduced to the point of accepting an insamous compositi­on; it was that they should march out of the City only in shirt and breeches: their wives had no sooner heard the Articles of this un­worthy composition; but they began to re­proach the men with their barreness of spirit. The poor unfortunate men answered that it was now no time to revoak what they had said, that the Treaty was signed, and that they could not violate their Oath. Never­theless the women learnt them their duty, without breaking their word. You have sworn said one of these Heroines to them) to march out of the Town in your shirt and breeches; but you promised them not that you would carry no armes with you; let them see then if you are men, that your hearts are not below ours; take up your weapons, and at least follow us; for we will show to our enemies, that we were not capable of the composition which you have accepted. These men remained confused, and knew truly to their shame, that their women were far a­bove them; they took (at their example) a better resolution, they put themselves in Arm, went forth of the Town in shirt and [Page 42] breeches, followed by their women, and fought with so much valour, that although the Enemies number was extraordinary, they failed not to sell the victory at a very dear rate; these feeble-hearted men became Lyons at the sight of their valiant VVomen, who did actions worthy of Heroes: and if they triumphed not, it may at least be said that they gloriously repaired the shame of that infamous composition. Let us come said Monsieur d'Armenton to another action, in which we may yet see that the women have caused the men to return from their errors, and that they have showed them the way to Glory. Cyrus having met the Persian Army, against whom he had war, and being willing to make use of the advantage he had over them, gave them battle, and put them all to the rout; these unhappy Run-awaies were returning with all possible speed to their City, when their women (who from the walls did spy them thus basely to fly) came forth be­fore them to ask them whether they went? and If they would like Infamous Creatures hide themselves in the same Intrails out of which they sprung. These reproaches, which the men to their confusion heard, wrought so much rigor upon their spirits, and so much power in their hearts, that they rallied, tur­ned their faces, and pouring upon the Ene­my (whom they found scattered in the pur­suit) [Page 43] overcame them. After these two Hi­stories, Monsieur d'Armenton intreated Ma­dam the Dutchess, and the rest of the Compa­ny, that they would give him the permission to leave the party for another.

It is (said the Abbot) because he hath no more to say: do not urge me (answered him Monsieur d'Armenton) I am so much upon this matter, that you will run the danger of hearing me longer then you may desire, I shall find (proceeded he) in the only City of Sparta more examples of the Heroical vertue of VVomen, than what I have yet mentioned; in Saguntum that famous City which was de­stroied by Hannibal; the women bore arms, and fought more valiantly than the men did: Some time after Marius made war against them, and overcame them; the women de­manded the liberty of him to retire to Rome to the Vestalls which they had a desire to serve. Marius who was a proud and haughty Con­queror, refused them this Grace, for which the VVomen were so heartily grieved, that having no other remedy but despair, they began with the Massacre of their own Infants, and after­wards to kill one another: You see (said Mon­sieur d'Armenton to the Abbot) whether I have no more to say. It is so long ago (re­plied the Abbot) since these Ages, that there being so many Fables to relate, you need not fear my doing my endeavour to answer, nor [Page 44] contradict you. If you will take the paines (answered him Monsieur d'Armenton) to measure the merit and valour of women in all Ages, you will find that they are nothing in­ferior to the men; and not seek into past Ages to hold to those things which we are not per­mitted to doubt of: Consider but the pru­dence and courage of Amalazonta Queen of the Goths: the Generositie and Courage of Theodelenda Queen of the Lombards; the wisdom and piety of Theodora Empress of Greece: If you will yet come to Ages better known, without departing out of Europe, on­ly tell me, I pray you! what may not be said of so many great Queens that have Ruled in France; so many others that have Governed Spaine, as this incomperable Isabella, whom Gonsalvo Fernando (one of the worlds grea­test Captains) esteemed so greatly, that he was accustomed to say, that there was nothing more praise-worthy, than by the hand of this illustrious Queen to have him chosen for to be General of her Armies. Queen Elizabeth of England may well eranked with this Spa­nish Queen; she who in her time disputed for the Glory with two of the greatest Monarchs of the Earth, I mean Henry le Grand, and Phi­lip the Second: I know you are not ignorant of the merit of these two mighty Queens; he must be Enemy to Truth that will not yield to such ra [...]e examples, for Letters, Musick, [Page 45] Limning, and Sculpture it self: VVho can say that the Women have not excelled in our Times, or at least been equal to the Men. But once more Mr. Abbot do not urge me where you may see me in a humor to entertain the company afresh. If sufficeth that you are convinced in your mind, maugre all your sub­tleties, that the women are capable of as much perfection as the men. That they have done them Honour, and that the advantages they have reaped by them are considerable: If there are now none of these Queens that went for­merly to Conquer strange Countries, that build Towns, that raise Piramids, and who busied themselves about other works of the like nature, as a Thomyris Queen of Scytia, Artemisa, Zenobia, Semiramis, Cleopatra; there are also but few men like Cesar, Alexan­der, Scipio, Lucullus, and so many other Fa­mous Romans, Say not (said Mr. Abbot to him smiling) that there are now no more like Cleopatra and Semiramis; it is true that they have not Common-wealths nor Kingdoms as these Illustrious Queens had; but they are not less bent to their pleasure. The Ladies who heard Mr. Abbot speak in this manner, and who immediatly comprehended his meaning; and that he might go no farther, they put themselves in a posture to assault him for the second time: Mr. Abbot was terribly amazed, and said (with an air not a little pleasant) that [Page 46] if Monsieur d'Armenton overcame him, it was not with reason, but because he had more force; and that they used weapous against him which were forbidden in conversation. The fear and the manner that Mr. Abbot tur­ned these words, made the Duke laugh hearti­tily. (Monsieur d'Armenton answered him) that if there were women like unto a Cleopa­tra and Semiramis, there were notwithstan­ding many more Sardanapales, whose chara­cter was much more infamous. What you say there (replied the Abbot) is doubtless contra­ry to what you think; for there is no Body but knoweth that the women have ever been less reserved than the men; but if that were not, who can say that there is not an ex­tream difference: You know that by the mis­carriage of one woman, a thousand misfor­tunes follow; whereas by the disorder of one man, there happens nothing, or very little. These are very strong arguments (said Mon­sieur d'Armenton to him in raillery.) I won­der you have been so long on thinking of no­thing else but that to say to me. But yet I pray, why would not you have Vice to be as much and more condemnable in men than wo­men; since it is from them that most Vertue is expected. Let us us speak the truth (con­tinued he) and confess that this Tyrannical Empire which we have usurped over them, au­thorizeth [Page 47] our Crimes, and that the same acti­ons which in us are esteemed Honourable, were they in them, we would condemn them to death, or at least to an Eternal Infamy. The Abbot answered him nothing, because he fea­red that if he should adventure to say any thing too bitter against these Ladies, he should bring some new misfortune upon him: but they discerned in his face the violence he did, to hinder him from speaking his thoughts, which gave a very pleasant subject of Laughter: At length when they had done their mirth, the Company intreated Mada­moiselle d'Armand to give them a Song, which she did in the ensuing words with much skill and judgement.

After which, (and the due applauses, the company gave Madamoiselle d'Armond for the same) it being late, and the Dutchess fearing the Dukes sitting up too long, the Conversa­tion ended; the Company parted with the usual Ceremonies, and each took their way to their Lodging.

CHAP. III.

THis day passed no less pleasantly than the others; there were Playes, Dances, and many other Diversions to entertain the Company with from the morning that they were dressed, till eight of the clock in the E­vening that they went to Supper; after Sup­per they failed not to go into the Garden, where they fetched some turns in the walks, and afterwards resorted to the Arbour, where the Circle was kept. The Abbot had been so evil treated the day before, that he had no mind to renew the dispute. It was the Dutchess that began the discourse, and who said to the Count de Lorme, that the La­dy whose Picture he had given, was a perfect­ly fair and civil Woman; but that there were notwithstanding persons in the company, who think that for a Court-Lady as he would have made her, there was something yet wan­ting; and that he should make an end. I know not said the Baron d'Epare what may be said of the Counts Lady; but in my opinion a La­dy cannot be made better qualified; and that is all can be desired in a Woman. However you shall see (answered him the Dutchess) that if he pleaseth, he will give her new per­fections; and that he will add to this piece [Page 51] some Features above the rest that shall not spoil her: I know not Madam, said the Count, what there yet is wanting in this work; but for my part I confess that a Lady like her would please me very well; and he that is not contented with her, let him leave her to me, I know very well where to bestow her: The pleasant Air with which the Count pronounced these words, made the Company to laugh. But what (said the Countess d'Ancyre) would you not teach a person so accomplished, how she ought to behave her self in matters of Love? for I imagine you would not have her incapable of those senti­ments; and beautiful as you have made her, it is at least impossible for her not to inspire it. Tell us then (continued this Lady) how she ought to comport her self with a Gallant Person that doth sincerely love her. It is true (said the Lady Sindal) that these are two things which a Court-Lady ought not to be ignorant of, especially the last, because it oftner hapneth that the men make show of Love, than to Love in reality; he must first tell us (said Madamoiselle d'Armond) with what Air a Woman must receive a declaration of Love, and whether she must not dissemble with all Lovers, or answer some of them? We must first (said the Count) rather learn a Lady to know Lovers, to know how to di­stinguish the true from the false: As for an­swering [Page 52] or not answering their Love, I believe in that she ought to take her own counsel; this then (added the Dutchess) is wanting in your Heroine, in which if you please you must instruct her, or I will be the first my self that will say she hath failings, since she is not yet skilled in Lovers; you must tell us (con­tinued she) what are the most certain marks to know true Love, and what it is can convince your Lady to perswade her to love; for in fine it hath been a saying a great while, that a Woman be­ginneth to love when she believeth her self loved; if her Lover be endued with these Perfections that may deserve Love. What you ask of me Madam (answered her the Count) is cumber­some enough; for if we must speak the truth, the men are now such Cheats in this, that the prudentest Women are the first that are decei­ved; we see them sometimes complain, weep, and sigh when they have a mind to laugh and the most part are so accustomed to it, that in one and the same day they will let fall Tears at at the feet of two or three Mistresses, and will promise them a fidelity not to be parallel'd; and if I might be believed, they should make an example of these false-hearted sighers, and a good part of them should be sent into some desert Island. However to the end the Lady whose Picture I have given you, and of whom I must take a particular protection) may not be deceived in the choice she shall make of a [Page 53] Lover; I am obliged to give her some coun­sel, by which she may regulate her Carri­age.

When the Count had gone thus far, a Lacquey belonging to the Dutchess (who had been sent to Paris to fetch some Letters which he was to take at the Post-house) brought some for many persons of the Com­pany, and put them all into the hands of his Mistress: There was at first a little confusion in the Circle: the impatience which they all had about the Letters, occasioned them to rise from their places, and eve­ry one endeavoured to know if there was none for them. The Dutchess who had a mind to engage her self from the trouble, put them all into the Lady Sindals hand to take care to deliver them; but this Lady who had a desire to partake of some mirth, desired them immediatly all to betake themselves to their places again, and that she would give chem all satisfaction. I see well said the Dutchess, that how gallant soever the subject was which we even now proposed, the curiosity of Letters will carry it, and that there will be given but little attention to what the Count shall tell us; wherefore Ma­dam continued the Dutchess, in addressing her self to the Lady Sindal; if you will believe me, you must quit your self of these Let­ters as soon as you can, and deliver them [Page 54] to the Owners; we will afterwards begin the Conversation. If you desire so answered the Lady Sindal, I consent; but it is certain that we shall have but little time left for a matter so gallant as is that which we have given the Count; and besides, you will see that they will be prevented after they have read these Letters, that they will scarcely answer the discourse; and the Count will have the dis­courtesie done him of relating curious things to persons that will not hear him: For my part added she, if I may be believed, a Conver­sation might be made even from these Letters, and the Count might retain his for another time; I may have some here as well as the rest, for truly I expect some that are witty enough too; if you please we will make choice of some of the company that shall read them out; but without naming from whence, nor from whom they come, except the persons interessed order otherwise. There was no Body but approved the design of the Lady Sindal, no body would oppose it, for fear of giving the company leave to think they had some private Intelligence. The Dutchess nevertheless, according to her ordinary pru­dence would have some order kept, and that they who should be chosen to read these Let­ters, should first let the persons see them to whom they belonged, to ask them whether they might be exposed, or whether they [Page 55] would give them permission. This referved­ness served for little; there was nothing in these Letters that might not be communicated to so judicious and reasonable a company as this was; however it was judged necessary to do thus to avoid troublesom inconvenien­cies. Madam d'Elus who was a Woman no­ted for wisdom and discretion through all the world, was the person chosen to take this care. The first Letter which came to her hand, (for it was through hazard she took them,) was for the Cavaleer d'Estapes, and without naming from whom, nor from whence it came; after she had shewed it him, and asked him the per­mission to read it, she found it as followeth:

The Cavalier said Madam d'Elus (after she had read this Letter) need not fear that I will tell from whom it came, for there is neither Date, nor Name: I believe said Madam de Armand that I could guess if I would. You cannot answered her the Cavalier; and I aver more, that none of the company know the person that writ to me, and that she is above fifty leagues from this place: be it what it will said the Dutchess, me-thinks this Letter is very tender and passionate, and that the Ca­valier is the unjustest of all men if he can for­get a person that hath such inclinations for him; it is also Madam, answered her the Ca­valier what I have never done, and which is beyond my power to do, for it is truth [Page 58] that the esteem and tenderness which I have for this person is of a Character never to be effaced. Into that (said the Countess d'An­cyre to him) we will not penetrate; but how­ever you show your self strangely cruel; and it may be said, that you do not act gallantly in maintaining the sentiments you say you have for her so illy; it is not, (answered her the Ca­valier) for having failed in doing my duty. And if this Lady received none of those Let­ters I writ, it is not me she must blame, but some naughty Demon that endeavoureth to cross us. See said the Lady Sindal how these Traytors of men cover their seditiousness so soon as they have got at a small distance from their Mistresses; all they endeavour is but to make Love at new costs: besides a relique of goodness that there is yet remains in them, wil not permit them to write them Treasons, no, they wil rather forbear all correspondence with them, & at the first reproaches they shal receive from them, they have presently recourse to that commanding pretence that their Letters were miscarried: for my part (I doubt not continued she) but the Cavalier is one of these, I have known him long for a person very wavering in the greatest engagements. Perhaps (answered her the Cavalier) that if you knew.— Alas, (replied the same La­dy presently interrupting him) I know but too well of your infidelities, and if my ad­vice [Page 59] might be followed or to punish you for the injustice which you have done this Fair­one that writes to you, the company shall ob­lige you to recite to us presently all the parti­culars of this story. This sentence was ap­proved of by all; the Cavalier was con­demned without appeal: he did well to ex­cuse himself, all his Arguments were misun­derstood: at length he obeyed his Judges, and in this manner.

It is some time since (said he) I travelled in a Province that is none of the farthest from Paris, and where some certain affairs called me, it being the first time I had been there; it was not very difficult for me to loose my way: this misfortune hapned to me late in the evening, and when I least thought of it, I conceived my error, when it was too late to seek a remedy. I found my self upon the closing up of the night in the middle of a wood, where the farther I went, the more I found my self incumbred, and there was no hope of getting out; it was in the winter-season, the weather was very rough, and the wayes very bad, and that time of night, it was as impossible for me to turn back again, as it was for me to pass further in, but I armed my self with resolution, and comfor­ted my self with patience, waiting under a Tree for the break of day, which I thought better than a thousand hazards that there is in crossing the ditches, which we should every [Page 60] moment meet with: I forbear telling you the small pleasure there is to be reduced to this extremity: but this I thought should be the last adventure of a Knight-errand that should happen to me any more. I entertai­ned my self with these and the like melancho­ly thoughts, when by good Fortune I espied a peysant not far off of us, who was going homeward: I sent my Valtet to him to bid him come to me, and who followed him only by the noise, for we could not see the night was so obscure; he overtook him, and engaged him with fair words and promises to conduct us to some shelter; at first he told us that we were at least two leagues from the right road, and that he knew no place nearer to lodge in than a league from thence, where we went the most detestable way that is possible to be imagine; at length we came to a small Village, in which was but one Cabaret to drink a pint of Wine in. God knows how we were treated, after we had knock'd at the door an hour to oblige the Host to let us in, who would not, but upon the Faith of our Guide, who swore to him we were honest people. The Peysant stayed with us, eat, drank, and lay in the same Caba­ret; for my part who had for my bed nothing but a miserable Pallat, and two thin Ruggs; I passed not the night so well as he, but better nevertheless than I should have done in the middle of the wood. The trouble, melan­cholly, [Page 61] and weariness that I had had, served me at length in lieu of a pillow, insomuch that about the break of day, I fell asleep. I had not reposed two hours, but this Peasant enters my chamber, and waking me very rudely, tel­leth me, that Madam the Abbess waited to speak with me in the Parlor. I received this Compliment with a very bad air; I knew not what he meant by Madam l'Abbess, and thought in the same instant to have forgot all the obligation I owed him for the last night; the poor man knew very well by my reception of him, that he had done me no very good Office, although he believed he had done me service: he departed, and went to carry the answer I gave him, to the party that sent him. On my side it was not possible for me to re­cover my sleep again, and I thought only up­on what this man had told me, that an Abbess asked for me: I knew no body in the Coun­try, and I did truly imagine that there might be (some abiss of Religious persons at the tur­ning, but I could not divine why I should be sent for; I did effectively believe that they took me for another: Be it how it could, I was troubled that I had so illy answered this Civility; and if the Peysant would faithfully report the unpleasant manner of my sending him back, this Abbess had as much reason to blame me, as I had to praise her. This refle­ction made me something sad; but it hapned [Page 62] very well to the purpose to deliver me: This Ladies Millar came (after this Peasant) to tell me with an air a little more ceremoniously, that Madam l'Abbess (since this Village be­longed to her) having understood by her Shepherd that a perspn of Quality having mi­stook his way, had been constrained to lye in a miserable Cabaret, did send him to in­treat me to accept of a place less incommodi­ous then that wherein I was. This Compli­ment banished all my melancholy, and I would no harm to my Peasant now, because it was he that procured me the Honor this Abbess did me. I answered him with as much Gallan­try as it was possible for me, and prayed him to assure his Lady that I had the most acknow­ledging resentments in the world for the Grace she did me, and that I would not be long to come and testifie them my self to her, which I did after the manner I am going to tell you.

My man being already up, I caused him to give me an indifferent handsom Suit of Appa­rel, and I put me into an Equipage Cavalier­like, enough for this Visit: The Peasant who served me as my Guide, conducted me also to Madam the Abbess. I went first into the Par­lor, where she made me not to stay long for her.

I believe before I proceed, it will be better for me to make a description of this Abbess to [Page 63] you, which it may be will not displease you.

Imagine it to be a Maid of about 28 Years of Age, of an indifferent height, but well shaped in her Growth; she had a good head of hair, and flaxen coloured, the Eyes black and fair, the mouth admirable handsom, the Teeth passable, the Nose well shaped, and the turn of her Visage round, and so pretty, that for to speak the truth, she was fitter to inspire Love, than Devoti­on: she had likewise an air so Sweet and Modest, that in charming did imprint I know not what respect, which did abate the Courage; her very Voice had something of particular; and one cannot say how much without affectation; she had the Counte­nance of an Abbess.

I saw this person, and if I must disguise no­thing. I'll confess I loved her from the very first moment I saw her▪ I thought no more on the night I had passed with so much trou­ble; nay I forgot my self so far, as to surren­der my self Prisoner to this fair one. It is true that the knots were not so strong as not to be broak, or at least to stretch; but however, in such manner that it would cause one to feel them when one hath a desire to serve a person that pleaseth one extremely. This fair Abbess [Page 64] Conquered all that Country; at my first Visit she told me very obligingly at first, that she could have desired that I had passed my time less incommodiously than I did in that Caba­ret, and that she would pray me to abide this day with her, that I might repose my self for the last nights weariness: the prayer was ob­liging; and as in civility, I could not but re­fuse her proffer; I did it with so much con­straint, that it was easie for her to discern that I had yet no mind to be going. But as she had a gallant piercing wit, she made use of this pre­tence, in telling me, that if she had not the power over me she would have to cause my stay, she was certain that two or three of her Friends would engage me at my first view of them, and that I should not have force e­nough perhaps to refuse their request as I had hers, which said, she as soon called the Ladies she spoke of: But I that pretended the Honour wholly due to her, assured her that she should tempt me in vain on her Friends parts, in a thing which she her self could not obtain of me; and that I believed there was nothing in the world had so much power over a rational spirit as she, nor that could cause themselves to be better obeyed when they desired any thing; the Abbess gave attention to what I said, and received my Caresses as I desired, she was endued with vertue intermixt with modesty: Nevertheless flattery always would [Page 65] find resistance, and seldom would she stand up­on her defence, but with much violence and passion; she knew she was fair, and although she would not make use of her Beauty to cap­tivate hearts as a person of the world, yet would not she be so negligent of it, but that she would rejoyce in private that she was not esteemed unhandsome: the other three Nuns her Friends, whose company she had sent for, came just in the instant as she was going to answer me; but her mind presently changing, here is said she (turning her self about) that will make you evoak what you said but even now. I shall eave you with them for an hour. I have some small business, and I hope by the time of my return we shall see you in ano­ther opinion. I swear to you Madam (answe­red I softly, because I would not be heard by the other) that this shall be the last opinion I'll carry from hence; and that if I could ima­gine the least cause of alteration, I would in­stantly depart. She answered but with a smile, which was doubtless for fear she should explain her self too far before persons that would not have been suspitious, had they not been interessed in what she said to me. I be­gan a something freer conversation with these Ladies than I did with the Abbess. I knew already that it was not [...]illy taken by them that I was not over serious, and that they used it only to those from wh [...]m they fear envious re­ports, [Page 66] and causeless censure: But with me who was but a Young man, and a lover of mirth, and who only was there for some time, and who delighted in nothing more than re­joycing; it were time lost to use formalities in a first Visit; in effect they received my airy humor not illy, and ranged themselves to it in a most agreeable manner: In my life I did ne­ver see more wit than were in those three La­dies; all that they spoke sparkled, banishing that Monacal Humor, that poysoneth all the best of a Religious Ladies discourse that is infected with it. I believe it will not seem tedious to you if I delineate the Pictures of those I speak of, as I did that of the Abbess, especially one of them which was her Sister, who is she that hath the greatest part in this History, and who writ the Letter you just now heard.

It was a Virgin of an admirable sta­ture, whose skin was extream white, and the turn of her face Oval, the eyes fair and fiery; if she was defective in any thing, it was that she had too much perfection; her voice was very sweet, and she would sing di­vinely; never was anything better shaped, nor any thing of a purer Vermillion red than her lips; the whiteness of her ivory teeth did answer admirable well to that rare [Page 67] Carnation; and the air which proceeded from that amiable mouth was something of such sweetness, that there could not breathe a purer; we must add to these lovely Fea­tures, that she had as much wit as any could have, and an understanding that knew al­waies what to say; and that would say no­thing but what was worthy admiration; her Soul was the fairest that ever virtue had a hand in forming.

The piece shall here end: they are grown troublesom since they are not A-la-mode; I'll only say, that this Lady had nothing common in her, and that all was rare and perfected in her: The other two Ladies were two persons very witty and handsome, the one had some­thing more of lustre and fire than the othea; but this in exchange had something more of sincerity, which thing hath rendred her also a more particular Friend to the Abbess her Si­ster. I discoursed for sometime with these three Nuns upon matters almost indifferent, where I endeavoured to produce what wit I could; they for their parts did miracles to sustain the Conversation, especially the Abbess her Sister; this charming Maid said nothing but what I thought so particular and clear, that I believed there was but her in the world that had so much wit, and that knew how to [Page 68] turn it in so admirable a manner; the Abbess at length re-entred: and truly in good time if she had the least desired to conserve what she had won of me, for to tell you the things as they hapned; the merit of her Sister see­med too great to me than to dare to give her less than a heart; and I was just upon changing my mind as she fore-told me; I had been per­jured indeed if her presence had not re-kin­dled the fire, that the first sight of her had excited in my Soul: Her Sister did neverthe­less prevent the farther progress; and I con­fess to you were it not for her, I should have loved the Abbess very well; all my esteem was in her divided, and tenderness had followed this esteem if I had seen her first; and it her Sister had not seized upon the better part of my heart. I left not the Parlour almost all that day, but conversed sometimes with one, and sometimes with the other of these two aimable persons: insomuch that these begin­nings of acquaintance increased so much in tenderness through the succession of time, that I may in truth say, that I never loved any thing like them. I believe the company don't desire that I should make too long a re­hearsal of this adventure, nor that I should re­cite every small circumstance: Go on with your story answered the Lady Sindal, who spoke for all the company; we will not have you omit any particular that may be of any [Page 69] small consequence; and you must use as much fidelity in your relation, as gallantry. We may permit him (added the Dutchess) to omit a great many small circumstances which he may relate to us at other times, for we have now no remainder of time. I would continued the said Lady in speaking to the Cavalier) have a little knowledg how and with what air you managed your affairs with these two Ladies, and being as you say, in what manner they could suffer this division; for I have ever thought it a thing very difficult to deceive two Mistresses, with much more reason two Sisters, which you almost alwaies see toge­ther. I'll tell you (answered the Cavalier) what hath hapned to me in a Year and a halfs time, in which I had the honour of their ac­quaintance; for the first time of my seeing them was but a day and a half; but there was cause enough left behind for my speedy re­turn; and to tell you in a word, all the time of my abode in this Province, I ever left them the later, but it was to return the sooner: At first I would consult with my self about the different sentiments I had for the one and the other; and I found (at least it seemed to me) that I loved the Abbess, and that I had a very great esteem, and a very tender Friend­ship for the other; and although it be not ordinary, yet it is true, that being charmed with the Beauty and Mildness of the first, I [Page 70] was in the same instant powerfully concerned at the rare merit of the other, and had for her a strange longing to see her even in the presence of the Abbess. I needed not to have over-studied my actions yet, if there were any one of them remarkable in favour of the El­der, the Younger would attribute it to the Quality she had above her; and the Elder would take for gallantry of wit all the obli­ging language I passed upon her Sister: it is true, that this simple Error could not long continue; the more we love, the clearer is our eye-sight: insomuch that both of them having taken a little esteem for me which be­fore they had not, they then began to mistrust one another, and to regard my actions, and examine my words with a deeper considerati­on then before they did; sometimes one would tell me that I praised her Sister with a certain Exageration proper to nothing but love; the other would reproach me that I al­waies sought the company of the Abbess, and that I was seldom in a good humor, but in her Conversation. All these usual complaints are but the Overtures of a clearing Evidence; it must appear after a great many windings, and you shall hear in what manner. The Abbess her Sister, who if you please we will call Cui­dia was the last that put the question, who prospered the better; however she sought the opportunity of a particular converse with me, [Page 71] which she found in a time when her Sister was busied about some affairs else-where, from which she knew she could not be dispensed; and looking upon me with the tenderest look that Love could paint out, or delineate in a Visage apt to receive its impression.

Sir, Cavalier said she; it is no longer time now to dissemble with you in any thing: you want not wit, and you know but too well that you are not indifferent to me, these five or six moneths have I seen you? I never was yet so positive with you upon this matter, but now I'll do more for you than you can expect from a Maid of my humor. It is to assure you that the esteem and ten­derness buried in the Cabinet of my Breast for your sake is none of the smallest; if you know me you will find that a declarati­on in this manner is no trifle; and if you do owe me any small Obligation, it is for having told you what I might have layen hid in the obscurity of my heart all my life.

In these joyful Raptures, where the effects of the Grace she did me did lift me her hand I saluted, (not knowing how to forbear) a thousand times, and testifying by the access of my joy, even to what point of happiness, I [Page 72] considered a declaration so charming and fa­vourable had brought me. But she interrup­ting me, bid me in retiring her hand let her make an end, saying it was yet no time for me to answer.

If you believe, said she, that the favour I did you in opening my heart to you meri­teth any acknowledgment from you, let me know in permitting me to look into yours, what I am going to demand of you: You are a person of Honour, and it would be too low-spirited a thing of you to deceive people, especially those that have both esteem and friendship for you. It is not now that I perceive Madam the Abbess to have some inclinations for you, she doth not hide her thoughts from me, because she knoweth not that I have the like Sore: But she imagi­neth not that you love another person be­sides her, and if I may believe your eyes, your heart hath not a little Intelligence with hers; tell me, and tell me truly; Do you sincerely love her? to the end that with­out making any further progress, I may Sa­crifice to her in the moment I now speak to You. All that I have that tendeth towards You.

I have still so much reason in me as to render Justice to my Rival, if you would have me call her so; and to acknowledg that she doth very well merit your whole heart; she is too mistrustful, and too well perswaded of her own worth, to permit you to divide your heart with another; and to speak the truth, although I am her youngest Sister, I am so jealous of these sort of Treasures when I have them once in my possession, that it would be no little trouble to me to surrender up that place to her wherein I should be established. Consult a little, and — Madam, (said I to her in­terrupting her) not being able to contain my self any longer from not answering her, I had not need to consult any more It is not two dayes since I explained my intents to your Si­ster, would she had understood me. I ac­knowledg that her good Nature and Civility hath engaged me in many things which I rob from you; but if I must pay these Obligati­ons I owe her with a heart, believe me, I were the most ingratefull of all men; and that I have given it to you in such manner, ne­ver to be separated be it for who it will: it was on Thursday in the evening when you were in the Garden, that she took occasion to tell me there was no more then one step wan­ting to gain the entire possession of her heart, which was to break with you. What mean you by this Proposition Madam (said I) being sur­prized [Page 74] at what she said: Will you be so uniust as to make me buy your heart with such base­ness. Can I my self be so weak as to obey you? you will pardon me if you please: But I believe it is not in earnest you would make me thus criminal. I understand you answered she presently, and I perceived the fault that my imprudence had made me commit; you do not esteem my heart at such a rate as to engage you in a loss like that of my Sisters; but how­ever, do you know the sentiments she hath for you, and is there any one that possesseth what you may pretend of her esteem? I know not Madam, (answered I) what passeth in your Sisters heart; but in sine, I never received any thing from her but Honour; and I should be the sorrowfullest man alive if I had given her the least occasion of repentance; however you must resolve replied she with a coy and disdainful look, or think never to pretend any thing in my heart, I'll not re [...]ign it, but on those terms; after these words I endeavoured to explain my self to her all at length, because I would not give her any more cause to doubt of the inward passages of my heart; but she left me with out so much as giving me the leisure to answer her in giving me the longer time of thinking. Thus continued I in speaking to Egidia: this Conversation passed, whether it be that She would find me alone, or that she apprehended me too soon, knowing of what she [Page 75] would be ignorant of. The Lady Abbess hath not spoke any more to me of any thing, to tell you the truth, I thought her Fair; her charms surprized my tenderness in the be­ginning, and what for her I suffer, a true friend is not unworthy of, that ranck I cannot refuse her; and if you should order me to the con­trary, I could not do otherwise. This char­ming Lady did so rejoice at the sincerity with which I spoke to her, and at what had passed between her Sister and me, that she willingly consented at that part of my Friendship I be­stowed upon her Eldest Sister, and believed that being assured of enjoying my heart en­tirely, it would but ill become her to ask more: We left one another with much con­tent, and more love, at least on my behalf. This sweet tenderness I had for her at first, had already taken the forme of a very strong passion; and this passion increased daily, while the love in which I first scorched, for the Abbess was half diminished unexpectedly; this so obliging and tender confirmation which Egidia had manifested to me of her love I thought so charming, that by this means she finished her Conquest in subduing the remainder of my heart, and hath left for her Sister only so much as could make me say I I did not ha [...]e her, neither did I look upon her more than as a Friend whom I had a desire to conserve, and to whom I owed some [Page 76] Obligation; she perceived it presently, and whether she found out some alteration in me by my behaviour towards her, or whether she apprehended her Sister since the time I had told her; I perceived that she took very great notice of all my actions, and that she had not that confidence in me as formerly she had been accustomed to have, she took pleasure even not to believe me any more in whatever I said to her; but with her Sister it was not so: However, jealous she was of her, nothing was visible, and she would mention me to her as one whose heart she feared not the loss of; she would sometimes cause her self to cast Jests upon her, when she would endeavour to do a­ny thing for her sake, in telling her the care she took was unprofitable: So that at last one day when Egidia was troubled that her Sister would by all outward circumstances bear the Conquest from her, when she knew she had no reason for it, told her that it signified lit­tle to her to make a Trophy of a heart which she so illy kept, and that others perhaps pos­sessed in a better manner than she. I believe answered her the Abbess with a voice no less scornful, than full of disdain, to have so good a part in it, that it were folly for any one to dispute it with me, or if they did, it were in vain if they dared to do it. Egidia wanted no reply: And this difference went so far, that they not being capable of being Judges where [Page 77] they were parties, they were content with a common consent, since they could not read those Characters that are writ upon the heart to refer themselves to what I should say, and to engage me to explain my self before them in such manner, that she that [...]ound the har­dest usage, would wi [...]lingly sacrifice her inte­rest in me to the other. I imagine that this conversation had something very singular in it, & that there was pleasu [...]e great enough for one to have heard them: this resolution being made, Egidia, who was a prudent I ady, and who saw in what she had engaged her self, would have been glad to have revoked it, and would ra­ther have renounced all the Joy she could have promised her self in such a Victory, for she was in very good hopes of obtaining it, than to expose me to the trouble that this De­claration would cause; wherefore the same day she writ these Lines to me.

This Note bred some small disturbance in me; however, since I was to take one part, I took a resolution without any more ballancing the matter in what I had to do, and answered this Note if I remember to this effect.

I gave this answer to the Lacquey that brought me the Note, and in the same instant bid my Valett do all things in such good order, and without any noise, that we might if it were necessary be ready to depart just after Dinner. I passed the rest of the morning in the Garden, where while I waited for Dinner, I was meditating on the Question they were preparing to ask me. I omitted telling of you in the beginning, that this is one of those Co­vents where the Religious enjoy a civil Liber­ty, and where their Parents or particular Friends have the permission to enter, and see them in their Lodgings, which is a most sweet Commodity for Gallants to pass for par­ticular Friends, it being indecent for the Re­ligious to permit declared Lovers without a scruple I dined with the Abbess as I ordi­narily did, and appeared very much cast down [Page 80] and Melancholy at the Table, contrary to my usual custome; for commonly I used to di­vert the company with much delight, and sel­dom failed of that heat that giveth the best relish to a Re-past: The two interested La­dies were the first that observed me. The Ab­bess began to discourse very obligingly to me, to put me into a better humor; and see­ing I made her no answer, she at last asked me what I ailed that I appeared so dull? I told her it was a great pain in my head that I had been taken with ever since the morning; she had neglected nothing this day to set her off, and although the Ornaments of the Religious are almost all alike, I acknowledg that some­thing I found in her so particular and so plea­sing to me, that with her sweet and winning carriage which she used, the resolution I had taken to break off quite with her, began to perplex me; and had not her Sister been pre­sent, she might perhaps have been enough to have made me revoke it: There was ever two or three more Religious, her Friends that commonly dined with us, but after Dinner they absented themselves. We needed no body to witness the Scene that was to pass among us three, I mean the Abbess, her Si­ster, and me; for in the humor I was in, it was almost a trouble to me to keep my Teeth asunder. The Abbess touched again upon the Melancholy she saw in my Visage, and told [Page 81] me that she never see me in so ill an humor before; and that if I would do her a pleasure, I should tell her the cause of it: I answered her as before, that I was troubled with a great pain in my head; but such a small In­disposition would not pass with her, judging by my eyes that there was something more in it; and she prayed me to relate the truth to her, adding withall with an air full of assurance that I was not before suspicious persons, and that if there was any thing tha [...] could cure my distemper, that I would oblige her so far as to relate it, that I might be assured that she was a partaker, and that I wronged her in de­nying her so small a satisfaction: I believe not said her Sister (to hinder me from answering her) that he hath any thing troubles him more than what he hath said: It is often seen said she, that persons endewed with Wit as is the Cavalier, are subject to these terrible pains of the Head; and they pass by these evil mo­ments from one extremity to another, I mean from evcessive Joy to excessive Melancholy. You believe Sister then replied the Abbess very coldly, that You know very well the Gentlemans distemper, because You take upon You to answer for him; in the mean time I'll not imagine it to be what You say, but I'll believe no otherwise than what he will say: However said Egidia if he would be advised by me, he should not discover his pain to any; [Page 82] I know it, and it is so much the worse for people that know not how to judge of it. Be­lieve me said the Abbess with a malicious smile, that if I should ask the knowledg of him, it is not that I am ignorant of it; but it is to dis­abuse some body; and I wonder they will make difficulty of understanding the truth now which methinks they have so much desi­red to know; I was in the right too much continued she, since I see some repent for be­ing engaged so far. By your leave Ladies said I interrupting them on a sudden, let me alone as I am, let my pain be what it will, and from whence it will, I neither will nor can be cured; if it could be, I would only desire to suffer less; for my part said the Ab­bess who meddle not with Divination, and who do not penetrate so deeply into Hearts as my Sister. I would fain desire him to ex­plain to us the Nature of this paine; and for my part since I am not infected with the Vice of insensibility as many people are, I might give him some ease if it lay in the Circuit of my power. Nothing could be more gallant­ly and favourably said on my behalf than this was; and I was just now going to answer her according to her desire, had not a sudden look which Egidia cast upon me put me in mind of my promise, which made me silent, not know­ing what to say: This admirable Lady per­ceived my trouble, and took up the word ve­ry [Page 83] well for the purpose: it is true said she, that there are certain sorts of Distempers that for their recovery the parties afflicted must have Recourse to those persons that caused them; but the Cavaleer is not sick in such manner; however it is continued she, I ac­knowledg my self so sensible of all that con­cerneth him, that I hould not willingly suffer him to relate his pain before me, nay though I might be capable of giving him ease. For your part Madam said she in speaking to her Sister, if you are in that mind you may give your self that content; but you shall give me leave to retire then if you please: And after she had said these words, she went away; inso­much that I remained alone with the Abbess, who thinking she had triumphed, told me with a Joy she had much to do to conceal that she saw well that her Sister had resigned up my heart since she quitted the party, and that it was she that must cure my Distemper; but that this was not yet all, she would know of my own self after what manner she was establi­shed in this heart, and how much beyond her Sister, that she had given me time enough to consider on it, and that one part I must take, which was either to despair the obtaining a­ny thing of tenderness from me or else to re­solve not to divide a thing which she desired the entire possession of, that she would grant me a small tender esteem for her Youngest Si­ster, [Page 84] but for the heart she only must have it, and that she knew how to use it; after she had said all these things with much Gallantry, she was silent to hear my answer; but I answered nothing, and I believe that my silence alone spoke enough to be understood by her, and that she took it as an evil Omen: some mo­ments after she seeing me prepare to speak as one that had been musing what to speak, she did it before me to hinder me from explaining my meaning, thinking it would not have been very favourable on her behalf: Oh Heaven! said she, how little reason have I to be satisfied now? Were I not in an Humor to forgive you every thing, and had I not some pity to see you thus melancholy: Go into your Chamber, and there repose your self, that's all the head­ake requires: I'll take care that none shall trouble you: I retired with this permission, but confused like a man that knew not what to say; but I was no sooner got to her Cham­ber door then she called me back again, and said with an air full of sweetness, Sir Cavaleer, hark you, I will meet you this Evening at Eight in the Arbor that is in the last Walk, I shall expect you there with one of my Friend; if you love me you will not fail. What do I say replied she presently; if you did not love me you are too gallant to miss a Rendezvouz that I appoint you; there's nothing that I know of can make you dispence with it; Adieu [Page 85] and do not fail then; in ending these words she smiled and entred into her Closet, there to hide from me a small blush which did instant­ly ascend her Visage, but for what I'll not tell you, but in this manner said the Cavaleer, en­drd this conversation which I so much drea­ded. I believed nevertheless that I was rid of this incumbrance better than I did think I should, and that I had avoided very much trouble in not being constrained to explain my mind before these two Ladies upon the choice my Heart should have made of them. But yet I could not forbear to fear the Evening-meeting I apprehended her designe by it, and to be the last act of Grace; however since I must, and since I was resolved to hide nothing from her, through unworthy Equivocations; I thought it better to make use of this occa­sion when I should see her alone, to disabuse her wholly, than to stay any longer. The Ho­nours and Favours I received from her aug­mented daily and rendred my ingratitude the greater. I determined than upon this Decla­ration, and was the remainder of the day; after Dinner preparing my self for it in my Chamber; they went to Supper a little after six of the clock, that they might have the more time to walk in the fresh aire; I seemed less Melancholy at the Table than I did in the morning. Egidia took notice of it, and she who had sought me a very great while with [Page 86] extream patience, for to demand of me how the case stood with me, and her Sister judged not well on her own behalf, seeing me in ano­ther humor, and did effectively believe that I had betrayed her. I took notice how dis­composed she seemed, and how little she eat; this thought so perplexed her, she had ever her eyes upon the Abbess or me, to endeavour to surprize our looks, and penetrate into our hearts, to see whether we had no intelligence one with another to deceive her; she had not the patience to rise from the Table with the rest, but at length upon a light pretence she left us, and retired into her Chamber, from whence she sent one of her Friends (who quit­ted her self very handsomly of that Commissi­on) to tell me that she stayed to speak with me as soon as I had supped, I failed not, and took so good a time that the Abbess who was entertaining two or three Ladies that came to Visit her, did not in the least per­ceive it: I found this Lady in a very melan­choly posture leaning upon a Table, who pre­sently told me that I was not a little obliged to her for having helped me out of trouble at her Cost, and that she doubted not but her Sister had reaped the advantage, but that for my sake she would not repent it; and when it was for my Repose, she would sacrifice all things, even to her heart it self, and after­wards suddenly changing her discourse; but [Page 87] by what Charme said She? or to speak better, through what engagement hath Madam the Abbess rendred You your Jovial humor; for me-thinks you seem to be very pleasant this after-noon: Alas! you were so melan­choly this morning, have You some gage of her heart that gives You so much Joy, speak Cavaleer, and conceal nothing from me! You have betrayed me, and doubtless You knew not how to save your self from the hands of my Adversary, but in this manner. What do You say (Madam answered I) that I have betrayed You? Is it possible that You can have such a suspition? pray vouchsafe to tell me what grounds You have for it? believe if You please that far from having thought it; I — No, no Cavaleer said she interrup­ting me, I see well that You know me not: I know better how to Love than You think I do, Your heart I aimed at, and I have some­times doubted whether I should come to the end of my aim in the manner I desired or no. My Sister I confess hath given me many causes of trouble upon this Enterprize, and I have been all arumed at the smallest cast of her eye, and a continual trouble hath not let me enjoy in quiet the pleasure there is to believe when one loveth that one is loved again; but after all these assaults I begin to be now something perswaded that it might perhaps endure thus a great while, were it not for the resolution I [Page 88] have taken to make You change: You must then Cavaleer (continued she) settle your Love wholly upon the Abbess, and endeavour to please none but her; perhaps it will not be so troublesome to you as to me; but however she must take this as an Obligation from my hands, and let her know that I was the first that spoke of it to You, and that intreated you to it. I acknowledg said she (in making a sign to me that I should not interrupt her) that I find it troublesome enough to me to lose you, and that what I do now lies heavier upon me than death it self; however I'll con­quer it, and if I have any power over You, You will do as I say, and will look upon me as no more than one of your good Friends. As she was proceeding to perswade me to this alteration, some few Tears which fell from her Eyes maugre he betrayed her; and I saw her so strnngely burthened with grief, that my heart was ready to burst with pitty; nei­ther had I power to answer her but with a ten­der embrace. I admired in my self at the Ge­nerosity of this Lady, and to what extent the Love she had for me would reach that tender passion which I discovered through the midst of her Tears, pierced the very bottom of my heart, and made me with facility to determine rather to lose the light, than to make an alte­ration. I also made a thousand Oaths to her, and in the condition wherein I was, not being [Page 89] capable of any cold Expression; I expressed my self so tenderly, that she had no longer a mind to loose me. I intreated her that this might be the last time of her speaking to me of a thing which she neither must nor could ever obtain of me, that my heart should al­waies tend towards her, and that I would break off with Madam the Abbess, she endea­voured to disswade me, and assured me that it would but precipitate my self and her too; but it was all said to no purpose; and with this design in my head I quitted the Cham­ber, excusing my self upon some small business I had, for that I stayed no longer with her, and told her before I slept I would Visit her again. I would not give her any Notice of my private meeting, lest knowing the resolution I had taken she had not took a Fancy to detain me, and done her endeavour to hinder this meeting; it was already past the time that I was to meet her; and the tears of charming Egidia had so well disposed me to do all things on her behalf, that I died with impati­ence to render that testimony of my Love, af­ter she had given me that of the tenderness and goodness of her heart. I was then at the place the Abbess appointed, and found her where she expected me with one of her Friends who left us by our selves; as soon as I came, she told me she began to be weary with stay­ing for me, and that if I had tarried a mi­nute [Page 90] longer, she would scarce have pardoned me. I believe Madam said I (coldly enough) that I should come at any time in time enough for what you may have to command me: she was very much surprised at this answer after those obliging words with which she accosted me; she endeavoured to dissemble it, and without sticking at my uniust coldness, she used me he sweet liest in the world, there was no engaging art which she did not use, no charme with which she served not her self: it is easie if a VVoman be but fair, and not indif­ferent to You, to find a thousand charmes in her if she have a desire to please. This of whom I speak did presently present to my view the power of her Beauty: This great resolution which I had taken against her, be­came by little and little if not unprofitable to me, at least very weak; she did rend a thousand tokens of inward tenderness from me without knowing from whence I drew them: it was no more the person I would forsake, she had such full possession of me in that moment, that I had scarce any room left in my thoughts for the idea of amiable Egidia: To speak the truth, this Abbess was well skilled in the art of re­warming a heart when she pleased; it was im­possible to defend ones self from her: One would think that she had imployed her whole Life in the study of Charms; the most faithful Lovers deserve to be excused at those infideli­ties [Page 91] she causeth them to commit, for it lies not in the power of man to do his duty when she pleaseth to seduce him. But not to keep you longer in a place where there are too many things to relate: I acknowledg that she is the only person that hath made me know my self best, no one can be assured of any thing against a Woman that useth complaisance. If this Fair-one was not fully satisfied with me she had also but little reason to complain. There is one thing which perhaps may som hing surprize you; after the design I had taken and which might cause your il opinion of me, had I not told you that this Abbess had Charms, against which there was no resistance; it is that I prayed her my self not to press me to declare to her what she desired to know of me, and that she would content her self with the power she saw she had over me, it was such (that to speak the truth, she might if she had pleased have made me commit the blackest perjury in the world, but by good chance she was glad to go no farther, because she perhaps feared the not prospering, nei­ther was it a time convenient for her; she had had advice by those she constantly kept, to spy me with her Sister of the Conversation I had with her, and how the tears were seen in her eyes; she cast some railleries upon me con­cerning it', and told me that she knew when I first accosted her, that those Tears had made [Page 92] strange havock in my mind; but however she would pardon me, hoping that in the end I would be accustomed to see Folks weep; she spoke all this, and many other things, with so winning a Behaviour, that it was impossi­ble for me to be moved; in the mean while it grew late, which I hinted to her; but she took it not well, and told me I was the im­pertinentest Gallant that might be in the the world; but yet I was constrained to re­tire, and a tender fare-well which we took each of other made up the business as well as ever; all that sweetness with which she had loaded me with could not resist those smoaks of repentance which charged my heart with a horrible Gall when I was from her presence; this is yet nothing I deserved it for a punish­ment for those minutes I stole from Egidia, and with whom I had so failed in my duty: The Abbess met her, and maliciously asked her where I was; I know not answered her Egidia, but I believe that being a little indis­posed, he is retired some hing early to his Chamber: You are mistaken Sister, answered her the Abbess, and I told you but now that I knew his distemper better than you, I have advised him to come and take the Aire in the Garden and told him that would cure him, as indeed I believe he findeth himself now better: You may know of himself it is not a minute since I left him: Egidia was the most [Page 93] surprized of any in the world, and so confused that she knew not what to answer her, she knew not how to hide a part of her resent­ment from her, with which the Abbess tri­umphed with unspeakable Joy, and so left her in that cruel condition. This poor Lady knew not what to imagine after what I said to her not two hours since, and the Oaths I made to her, she had to good an opinion of me to have lightly believed what her Sister might have told her on another occasion to my disadvantage; but in this e could neither doubt nor excuse me. The Treason (was too manifest, and all things stood against me; she was at first shaken with a thousand different passions, so much oppression lay upon her at once, that she was no more the same person, we soonest believe what we fear most: The first thing she had a mind too was to see me, and presently sent for me by her Lacquey. I came to her, and by the eageruess I perceived she had to speak to me, I suspected the truth; I imagined that this meeting had not been kept so secret but she must have had notice of of it, but not that the Abbess would have re­vealed it, — my Curiosity invited me to dive into the truth of it; I found her by her self in a small Parlour, and where in approaching her I saw her so troubled and changed, that I no more doubted her knowledg of my being in the Garden with her Sister; at first she did [Page 94] not speak to me, and for my part the grief in which I was to know my self culpable, cau­sed the same effect in me, as anger and jealousie did in her; so that we continued some mo­ments without speaking one to the other; but at length she broke silence; where have you been said she with a low Voice (without so much as casting her eys upon me?) I answered her that her man had met me as I was retiring to my Chamber. Why would you commit (replied she raising her Voice a little, and loo­king upon me with eyes fuller of pitty than Choller) a new Treason: Did you make so many promises to me this Evening but to de­ceive me with the less difficulty? what have I done? — After these words excess of grief stopt her Voice, and she was going in­to a Swound I am not able to represent to you the condition wherein I found my self to see the person I so dearly loved dye a dying. How cruel are these moments? what happiness were it for me to dye also, if Heaven would but hear me, and not smile at those Evils which Love maketh me suffer: I looked upon this Lady as a man immoveable, not having, the power to help her, nor to cry out: This weakness which took her, and which was no formal Swound in giving her the liberty though but dimly) of her sight, she saw up­on my Face a grief, which spoke to her on my behalf, and nothing (as she told me since) [Page 95] did raise her from this her cruel displeasure, than to see how much I was concerned. This silence and my condition made my peace with her, and all her grief had not the power to re­sist the satisfaction she received from mine. By good Fortune there passed by in the mean time two Nuns, who seeing her in the condi­eion I before told you, they ran towards us, believing that some one of those Accidents had hapned to her, which the Nuns are fre­quently subject to, there came more people; and this News raised a disturbance in the Co­vent; Madam the Abbess was one of the first that heard it, nevertheless she endeavoured nor to run and see: for my part I retired as soon as I saw there was people enough to assist her, and although the Abbess sent twice or thrice to speak with me; I desired her to ex­cuse me, and to stay till the next morning to tell me her pleasure. Egidia whom they had carried to her Chamber, and who was already come to her self, not seeing me by her bed­side, in a time wherein she believed that if I loved, I would be least absent from her, softly asked a Maid that waited on her if she knew not where I was: This Maid who saw me go into my Chamber at the same time that I left her Mistress, and who had seen the Tears run down my eyes, made her a faithful descripti­on of it, which did extreamly trouble her; and she entreated her Sister who was set down [Page 96] by her to send for me, but she refusing, said, that she had done it twice already to no pur­pose, and that she should make no more un­profitable entreaties to me. Egidia who had a great desire to see me, and who could not endure that I should continue all the Night in the sorrowful condition wherein I was, had a mind to try whether I would come sooner for her, she believed she should not venture too far, nor that it would not signifie much to her, though she could not obtain more from me than I had granted her Sister. She sent then the same Maid to me, in whom she had no small confidence, to tell me that if I had the least desire of her amendment, I should see her before she slept, and that she would ex­pect me i [...] I had any small love for her: I am not able to tell you how ready I was to Obey her Commands, those that have loved may with ease imagine. I entred her Chamber, where was no Body with her but the Abbess, and who waited with impatience to see how this scene would pass; they both presently per­ceived how my countenance changed: I know not what the Eldest thought, but I know that I raised pitty from the other; and this poor [...]ady beheld me with an air so tender and piercing, that I could not forbear though in the presence of her Sister to cast my self at her feet, and to take her by the hand and Kiss it with innumerable Kisses, which I also bathed [Page 97] with Tears which I could not retain: I doubt not but the Abbess saw such sensibilities with an unwilling aspect, they were cruel stroaks, for which she could not forbear declaring her resentments, though she used her utmost endeavours to hide a part: sure Sister said she (with a Note which surprized us) the Cava­leer must have committed some great injury a­gainst you, by the manner of his craving your pardon; you cannot refuse such speaking Tears. Nevertheless, if you will take my ad­vice continued she in rising to be gone, you should do nothing before he hath promised you, that he will neve fall again into the like Crime. I'll assure you he cannot promise it, but he will be perjured; make this soft peace; I will retire to leave you by your selves, for I imagine you do not desire me here for a wit­ness: I turned my head to answer her, but she was already gone out of the door, and she spared me the displeasure I should have had in wandring by some words from the respect I owed her. I remained alone then with Egi­dia, and more perplexed than if the Abbess had been present, for although I had many things to tell her, I knew not how nor which way to take, and silence was the ony Language I used. But she who suffered to see me afflicted, although it was for her sake, after she had endeavoured to re-assure me with her looks she brake silence, well Cavaleer said [Page 98] she in clasping my hand, don't you repent that you have betrayed your best of Friends! think well upon what you said to me just now! how had you the heart then to deceive me? Speak, are you not the injustest man living? She made a great many more reproaches to me; to which she added a hundred of things which I cannot repeat to you in the manner she spoke to me. In a word, to come the sooner to a subject which in the very re­lation of it to you doth mollifie my inclinati­on: I justified my self to her as well as I possibly could, and I confessed to her the Rendezvous, and what had obliged me to meet her, and the reason I had to conceal it from her, that at length she became well sa­tisfied with me, and mhre courteous than ever before; and she shewed me more tokens of tenderness than ever I received from her be­fore; and thus we most agreably acquitted each other from the pain and trouble which we had had this Evening, we never loved better; and this small intervale of time served for nothing but to kindle the fire the more that devoured us; the time was already past in which Civility should constrain me to retire. I desired not to enjoy the displeasure of staying till the Abbess sent to me, which she might do: But my ill luck would have it, that all the doors of the Convent being shut, ex­cept that of her Chamber which I must of ne­cessity [Page 99] pass through to go to mine: 'Tis true that in the condition wherein I was, being for­tified with the powerful Charms of her Sister, I made but very little reflection upon what I had to fear: I examined not the danger that might be, and I felt Egidia so firmly seated in my breast, that I was even glad (at least it seemed so to me) to find an occasion to out-brave all the Enchantments of this fair Abbess. I guided my steps, than since I could not avoid it that way, and went into the middle of the Chamber, where I saw her alone and undres­sed; she at first desired me to stay a moment with her: I excused my self, pretending that it was something too late, and that I might incommode her; she answered me that she knew very well how much I was perswaded that I should never trouble her at what hour soever; but to avoid the Ceremonies which I might have made her; upon this she com­manded me to take a seat and sit down by her, that she had something to say to me, and would be obeyed: if Madam (answered I) you will be pleased but to stay till to morrow. I tell you no replied she abruptly: I will once more have it now: and know said she, that to punish you for the smalness of your Complai­sance, it is not so much to oblige You as to trouble You. I turned this Constraint into Raillery, which I termed a sweet Violence, because it was also impossible for me to diso­bey [Page 100] her, for she had shut to the door, out of which I should go: I told her then because I would not seem uncivil, not having a mind to break off in this manner with her, that the Violence she used to cause my stay, was excee­ding charming, and that there was no man living but would take it for a favour at that Houre: I do believe answered she that it would be esteemed one in the thoughts of ma­ny civil people, but not with You, and un­less one swounded away, it were in vain for one to endeavour to Oblige You, and to let You see that one hath an affection for You: we must expect in requital nothing but indif­ferency and disdain it self: I believe it were unnecessary to make a longer Relation of what the Abbess said to me, and, of those things which I answered her: it sufficeth that You know in brief that it is but my seeing of her that must shake me in my strongest resoluti­ons. Once again I know not what feebleness I received in her presence, but 'tis certain that she rendred me quite different from what I was before, and that I remembred no more the design I had made to forsake her, she was so full of Charms that Evening without her Ornaments of Apparel, that in her negligent Garb appeared a thousand Artifices. I must say no more to You, except I have a desire You should think me the greatest Deceiver and Traytor of all men. I stayed more than two [Page 101] full hours with this Faire Enchanteress, and left her like a man that had hardly the power to go: How great was her Joy? and how pleasing her triumph? it was no more one indifferent that despised her Favours, it was a reconquered Lover that left her with re­gret; it is nevertheless certain that I passed the rest of the Night with much sorrow, and that I made my self all the reproaches imagina­ble the Charms of that Fair-one had this in them, that they never possessed me but in the time I saw her; but a moment afterwards, when I was deprived of her sight, I would come to my self, and would see my Crime, and could not repent enough: in the first Visit I gave her Sister, I rendred her a faithful ac­count of all that had passed between the Ab­bess and my self, confessing to her part of my Perfidiousness towards her, which seeing with what air I confessed them, she did in truth but laugh at it; Nevertheless she had a mind to be revenged, and to render the like to her Si­ster: I shall tell you what she did, I have al­ready made You to understand that the apart­ments of these two Ladies are not for asun­der, which was the reason that they would be almost alwaies together although they lo­ved each other but little. Egidia knew how her Sister had a great mind to seize upon a Picture she had of me, and which I had gave her, she kept it close looked up in her Closet [Page 102] for fear she should be deprived of it; and as in effect the Abbess waited but the moment to find an occasion, Egidia gave her a fair one, but it was after she had taken this with her; she left her Closet open, and went to walk in the Garden, and gave her Sister time enough to satisfie her self if she had found what she looked for, and had not that which for her Repose she would have desired not to have seen: The poor Abbess perceived not the malice her Sister designed her: She went as soon as she came in to search for the Picture, but in vain; but however she thought she had not altogether lost her labour, having found her Sisters Casket open, which was full of Notes and Letters which he had Writ to her; she locked her self in her Closet to take lei­sure to Read them; and to prevent a surprizal, she made even Coppies of two or three of the Chiefest, where I mentioned her, of which this is one; by which you may judge of the o­ther.

You may perceive that this Letter was not over-obliging for the Abbess, and I suppose it is not necessary for me to tell You how much she was enraged, the shame, despite, and jealousie to see her self so slighted by one to whom she had showed so many Tokens of her Goodness, did at first inspire her with the cru­ellest designes that ever any Woman was ca­pable of; she forsook the Closet in a Fury, ha­ving first torn all these Letters in a thousand pieces as she would have done my heart; and were it not for a Lady who was one of her Friends, and her Confident in all things. I know not to what point she had brought this her resentment.

This Lady who was altogether endued with prudence, advised her on this account with good intentions, and endeavoured to bring her to her self again: She told her that she should be careful of her behaviour, and that [Page 104] the noise which she might make upon such a business could never turn but to her disadvan­tage, and that she should manage her Con­duct according to the rank she held; and that it would be no good example for the other Nuns. But what means is there to digest so cruel an affront? All that this good Lady could obtain of her was, that she would not see me all that day for to have the more time to consider what she had best to do. Egidia returned after her Walke, and entring into her Closet, she found all things disordered, and the Letters in the condition before-men­tioned; the pleasure of Revenge which in a VVomans mind is the greatest living, made her to taste (upon this occasion) contentments, which to comprehend, you must be VVoman and Lover together, she could not long con­tinue before she had declared to me all this Adventure, for which she rejoyced, as thinking it a good part she had played, she endea­voured however to prepare my self to hear the News without anger, and calling me into her Chamber, she asked me my Opinion, and whe­ther she had spoiled my designs with her Si­ster? I answered her that on condition she was not too much concerned her self, I took it not illy. At length she related to me the effects of her Sisters Jealousie and showed me in what condition my Letters and Notes were; I seemed to take little notice of any thing, [Page 105] but in truth I approved not her Conduct, and when I came to make reflexion upon all that I had writ to her, I could have been glad if she had made use of another meanes, and that her sevenge had taken up other weapons: I doubted not but that the Abbess was in a strange passion, and that this business would produce some ill consequence, in which Egi­dia would be the first that should suffer. I could not refrain from saying something to her, and assured her nevertheless that I would not in any-wise contradict her pleasure, be­cause her will was so bent, but that knowing so well as I did her Sisters humor, all I feared was from her behaviour, and that she sought not some way to revenge this upon me. I spoke this to her in a way tender enough; however Egidia did not take it so, but looking on me with a spiteful smile, I see said she what it is that allarms you, and that I have not used you well: Go Sir Cavaleee said she in rising from her place to be gone, go cast your self at her feet, and swear to her that you adore her, and ask her pardon for all that you have writ to me. I Madam (answered I her!) will you forsake me thus! and thus disown my Heart! Ah give me leave if you please to tell you, that you know me but too illy, and that I am ready to avouch to her all that I have of passi­on in my breast for you. Observe, if you please require of me the greatest token of my [Page 106] Love, You may, and I will give You the whole day for You to take this pleasure in, for to morrow I shall be gone, and you shall see how little I will be concerned whether I be well or ill with the Lady your Sister; this resolu­tion so suddenly taken, did a little surprize Egidia, and she was troubled that she had proceeded thus far, she embraced me tender­ly, and did what she could to cause me to change my design, but with much trouble, and I left her at length without promising her any thing very sure: The rest of the day I spent in considering what I should resolve up­on; all things perplexed me, and I could dis­cern no better way than to be gone. But one thing which I found very difficult was, how I should take my leave of the Abbess, which was a duty I could not well omit: I must do it, and I took my time when she had most compa­ny with her, to avoid a number of evil re­proaches which I knew she would not do be­fore witnesses. I went then towards the Eve­ning to her apartment, and asked the Religi­ous, whom I met, and whom doubtless they had sent before me, if I could not obtain the Honour as to Visit Madam the Abbess: She presently answered me no, and that she was something indisposed: But having once again made me some instance for that; she whispe­red me softly in the ear, and told me that this Order was given expresly for me, and that [Page 107] therefore as a Friend she counselled me to re­tire. I confess that this adventure did not so much surprize me as it would have done had I not prepared my self from being kindly re­ceived by her; but yet it is true that I resen­ted some despite in my heart for this refusal, and that I had not been comforted but by the meanes I obtained to acquit my self in another manner of the respect I owed her; it wa by writing I would take my Farewell; and see here in proper termes the Letter I sent her.

This Letter as you may see was neither too gallant nor too well fashioned, my mind was not very busie when I began to write it and to speak the truth I must have seen her to have manifested any testimonies of tenderness; she received the Letter, and made me no answer. Egidia who saw that I did really intend to leave her, & who had a desire to try the whole storm intreated me before I went that I would make some sort of peace with the Abbess, and to give no cause of talk to the other Be­ligious, who doubtless would upon such a de­parture; she added further, that her Sister would infallibly believe that it was her that had precipitated me to be gone in this manner, and that she would be glad to make use of this pretence, to find subiect to turn all her Be­sentment upon her self; for my part who sea­red this interview more than death, and who represented to my self all the reproaches that she might make to me to which I could answer nothing, I knew not how to resolve to see her; but she found a Medium, and we agreed between us both that I would absent my self for only some few daies, waiting the time only until the Abbess her mind was sweet ned, and [Page 109] that I should return if occasion serve, at the east note she should send me. I prepared then to be gone the next morning to Visit one of my Friends that lived in the Neighbouring Village; I was just ready to mount on Horse­back when a Lacquey brought me a Letter, wherein I, found these words.

Never was man more amazed, nor more cast down than I after I had read this Note: I saw that cost me what it would, I must see her: I asked then the Lacquey where his Lady was, and he told me that she expected me alone in her Chamber; I went thither, but in what manner? as a Criminal that was going to pre­sent himself before his Judge: I found this [Page 110] Lady so sorrowful and changed, that it was e­nough to move the most barbarous heart. I know not how I found my self then, but truly I could not enjoy my self, and the confusion wherein the sight of her put me is not to be expressed. She beheld me some moments without speaking to me, and breaking at length silence, what do you here said she? and why are You not already gone? I did not be­lieve Madam answered I her, that I ought so to have done, since I knew I might have the Honour to see you: I come to take my leave of You, and begg the favour of You in the same time to tell me what it is You have a­against me. VVhat I have against You replied she with a sigh; ah Traytor! You know but too well. VVell Madam, said I to her, since You will that I know, I come to know what the Crime meriteth I have committed against You; if it be death, my Life dependeth whol­ly upon Your Commands: Death replied she, alas! You have but too much deserved it, and in that consisteth my greatest misery. VVhat do You then desire Madam replied I very ea­gerly, if a Sword You want to give it me, see here is mine; and in saying so, I presented it naked into her hand, and opened my breast to her for her to pierce it; but she only turned her face another way with these words, which in pronouncing she something, raised her Voice: Cruel one! You are but illy acquain­ted [Page 111] with my heart! if you think that my Re­venge extendeth so far as to bereave you of Life, I could wish only that my Life were dear enough to you, I would then deprive my self of it to punish you, but I should miss the joy I should have in my death to see You breath a deep-fetched sigh. In ending these words, a great number of Tears covered her face, and the sobs took from her her speech in so sad a manner, that my heart was choaked up with pitty. I knew not what to say to her, I feared that whatever I said she would take for new infidelities in the trouble I was in to see her in this condition: Nevertheless, since it is no difficult thing to appease a person that loveth us, and desireth to be loved. I brought my self at length to overcome her anger, and left her not till I saw her in a condition to forgive me all. I will tell You what caused her to be so soon won; she had a desire to stay me, and it was no pollicie for her to use me rigorously, I was not yet so indifferent to her, but that she thought it troublesome to forsake me quite; she did not so much as doubt (as in Love we often flatter our selves, but one day to bear away the Conquest from her Sister, she knew not that my Journey was but for two or three dayes; she believed I would be gone in earnest, and I did her an Obligati­on. I entreated her to permit me at least to mae a small Jorney into the Neighbouring [Page 112] Village; to which she consented so much the more willingly, because she had no desire to to have notice taken how easily she was retur­ned to her self again after so manifest an inju­ry; she was glad to make use of some meanes whereby to hide her weakness, and to make the world believe tha she was not appeased but in process of time; she required of me more especially, that I would not acquaint her Si­ster with our reconciliation, and that I would in no wise see her in parting, if I would not give her cause torepent for the too great indul­gence she had over me; I promised to grant her desire, and although Egidia had sent to tell me that she would speak with me; I begg'd of her by one of her Friends, that she would dispence with me for some reasons which I would write her, and with which I was assu­red she would rest satisfied; to speak the truth I owed this satisfaction to a person to whom I was so much Obliged, and who had so much reason to complain of me: I departed then, and went to see this Friend, from whence I writ many Letters to these Ladies, and re­ceived also many from them in the last which the Abbess sent me, she entreated me to meet her the day following in the same Arbor I saw her in before, and that it should be in pri­vate, especially that her Sister might not know it in the least, and that she would be there at Nine of the Clock, and would stay for me till [Page 113] Eleven a clock, I clearly saw by this Letter that the Abbess was appeased, and that she was merrily enclined, I believed I could not handsomly refuse it, and that I must by Policy in Love advertize her Sister of it, because she might not complain of me if it came to her knowledg as in the last Rendezvous. I answered the Abbess then that I would not fail to be there at Nine according to her appointment; and this is the Letter I wrote to her Sister.

I gave the Abbesses Lacquey the answer I wrote her, and my man carried this Letter to Egidia; I sent the Lacquey first, and sent not my man but a while before me, to the end he might be at the Convent before day; and that he might give her this Letter privately, he entred the Parlour and no body took notice of him, and as he heard a noise, and it being too dark to discern any thing, he asked at a ven­ture if there was no body there would vouch­safe to call Madam N— You must note that even then the Abbess her self who was wal­king alone, and without light in the Parlor, because nothing might hinder her from this appointed meeting, she waited in this place with extream patience till the hour of her appointment was come; she instantly knew the Voice of him that spoke to her, and told him that if he would any thing with this Lady, it was she her self; these two Ladies have the Voice so alike, that their most famili­ar Friends are sometimes deceived: My man who knew not what danger there was to be mistaken, and who effectively believed that this was the party he demanded, he gave her the Note without scrupling, and did even imagine that he had very justly acquitted him­self of this Commission, and that he could [Page 115] not have given it to her more privately as I had instructed him. The Abbess after she had taken the Letter, sent my Man away again, and told him that if it were requisite, she would send an answer. We may with ease ima­gine how great her impatience was to see what I had writ to her Sister; but it were hard to tell you all the trouble she resented after she had satisfied her Curiosity; she was not naturally of a bad humor; and had not Jealousie intermixed, she might perhaps have contented her self with converting her Choler into injuries: But this passion is not accu­stomed to use such weak sorts of Revenge, it carrieth its design even to an extremity, and injured Love is the terriblest of Enemies; the Abbess went to seek her Sister whom she found in her Chamber and as it is common for them to talk of me, it was easie for her; after a small winding of their discourse to make me the sub­ject of it: Let us acknowledg after all, Sister said the Abbess after she had spoken very in­differently of me, that we are both very much deceived in those advantageous Opinions which we have had of this Gentleman, who hath payed all those tokens of good will he hath received from us both with nothing but Treasons: For my part added she, I am now undeceived enough; and truly part of this Obligation I owe to you, for had it not been for those Letters I found in your Cabi­net, [Page 116] I might yet have been in so strange an error: If you desire I should render you in exchange the like service: But dear Sister, You are so much for his advantage, that you will ever believe let me say what I will, that there can be nothing more Civil nor faithful then what he telleth you: VVhat is it you will do? answered her Egidia coldly: I see not the Cavaleer do any thing to be esteemed cul­pable, but whereby I may see that he hath a great respect for me, and I have even Rea­sons for the contrary, I am too just to every change that good Opinion I have of him. But suppose I should make you to see said the Ab­bess to her, that you are deceived in your Opi­nion, and that he betrayeth you, and that he is the basest of men, I should perhaps (procee­ded she) not have all that acknowledgment that such a piece of service meriteth; for not to speak falsely to you, although commonly we take but little pleasure to be deceived; I consess my weakness in this, that I love better to continue in my error; an evil is no evil be­fore we feel it and know it; and if in some certain things I might have my choice, the swee est for me would be to remain in Ig­norance. How you are to be pitied replied again the Abbess, and how little you deserve to be undeceived: But you are my Sister, and I must in spite of you your self have pity on You. Know then that this civil Gentleman, [Page 117] this faithful Friend, how you will be pleased to call him, gave me notice by a Letter whicg he wrote me this day to meet him this evenine in the Garden, and entreated me as much ash could to let it be in private, and that you might know nothing: If You please You may not believe me continued she (who saw her countenance begin to be troubled, and that her colour changed three or four times) or rather it is but your going with me to give you cause to believe your own eyes. How stedfast soever this amiable Lady was, this blow caused her to reel; the Insidelity was manifest, and her Rival assured her of the thing so positively that she could have no cause of doubt, since she offered to conduct her to the Rendezvous to be her self a witness; she agrees to walk with her to the Garden, she gives her a Sword to kill her self, and she will not stay a moment from seeing her death, be­cause it was now their time to go.

But all this time sayd the Cavaleer (in brea­king his discourse) while I amuse my self per­haps with too much pleasure to relate to you a story, where the greatest part of Adven­tures seem to flatter me; I do not consider that it doth but abuse peoples patience; You ought not to imagine thus said the Lady Sin­dal, for till now no Body hath taken the li­berty to Interrupt You, and the silence the Company hath lent You, is a visible Evidence [Page 118] that they are not yet weary of hearing you re­late all these Gallantries. I acknowledg con­tinued she in smiling that I have often said to my self, that there was but one man like you to whom one might pardon so much vanity, and who might have the confidence to enter­tain us with a History of which he is the Hero. You requite but Illy (answered her the Cava­leer) the Obedience I have shown You in this thing for whatever You are pleased to say; Madam, never before this time had I the good Fortune to relate my Adventures; here is no Body here replyed the same Lady but who knoweth you, and have learned even from your own lips a great part of the Transactions of your Life. Notwithstanding I doubt ve­ry much proceeded she whether or no all hap­ned as you say. If that be your thought Ma­dam replied the Cavaleer to her, and if the rest of the Company be no more favourable to me, it was in vain that I took so much trouble upon me; this Opinion is an advantage to me, and I hope they will dispence with me from u­sing any more superfluous discourses, we may find something better for the Conversation. The Dutchess who was laughing with the o­ther Ladies to see the Cavaleer half defeated for what Madam Sindal had said to him, would have the Raillery go no further when she heard him speak to that intent, and told him that she pretended not to have listned to [Page 119] him thus long, but to know this History even to the end: She added further, that he should not be concerned for what the Lady Sindal said to him, and that if there was any thing to be blamed in what he had related, it was assu­redly the conduct of these Religious Ladies. But that it is not now known to be the first time that Love dressed himself in all sorts of fashions, and was of all conditions, and that a man found no better delight than in the con­versation of these Ladies.

She prayed then the Cavaleer to make an end, the Company also began to urge him to it; he refused, and told them it was now time to retire, and that he had yet behind too ma­ny things to relate: They judged it then more proper to defer the rest till the next day, and pass the time away with some Recreation. But the Cavaleer answered to that, that it were not necessary for them to seek any thing that could divert them more than the Letters they had proposed to read, and that they could not without injustice favour others more than they had done him. Madam the Dutchess told him that if all had a History like his, they would be long a reading; but nevertheless for satisfaction she should have two read, after which the Conversation should end; and the other Letters should be returned to their Owners. Madam d'Elus made choice then of two more, and the first was for Madamoi­seille [Page 120] d'Armand who freely consented to have it read, and said in smiling, that the compa­ny might perhaps be scandalized, but that she cared not. These are the termes it was expres­sed in.

There was none of the Company but was surprized at this Letter, and who could believe that such a Letter might have been writ to a Lady so wise and reasonable as was Madamoi­selle d'Armand; Madam d'Elus who knew her well, would not believe her eye-sight, and as­ked her twice or thrice if it were to her they sent this Letter, and whether they were not mistaken? This Lady did but laugh at their wonder; but however from blushing she could not abstain, because every ones eyes was on her. I believe said the Cavaleer to her, that there is not so much subject of Laughter, [Page 122] and that the Gallantries that they write to you, gives us cause enough of thinking; how­ever it is answered she him, it is from too gal­lant a man I receive them to cause my displea­sure, and I am at all times ready to send him more tender ones. If we knew You not said the Countess d'Ancyce, we would interpret the things litterally, and show you little Fa­vour; but I believe there is a mystery in this Letter, and that You are not willing to par­take of the Honour your self in the manner it is turned; for my part said the Dutchess, I comprehend nothing, and I confess that I want as great an esteem as I have for Madamoiselle d'Armand not to condemn her, but tell us however continued she in addressing her self to that Lady what You smile at? and what there is we understand not in this Letter? for I have no mind to change the Opinion I have of You. Madamoiselle d'Armand after she had thanked the Dutchess for what she had, thus Obligingly said; related to her, that be­ing sometime since with one of the chiefest Ladies of the Court, where a great number of Noble Gentlemen did ordinarily meet: They had proposed a question which had been very wittily handled, viz. to know whether it was more troublesome for a Lover to make a De­claration to his Mistress, than for the Mistress to receive it, and that she had maintained the Lovers part; and that it was less difficult for [Page 123] a man to say he loved, than for a Lady to suffer it; and that the Baron d' [...] (who was Author of this Letter) having undertook the contrary, the company thought sit that for the rarity of the act, that the Baron should represent the person of a Mistress, and she, that of the Lover, that they might have the plea­sure of seeing how this business would pass; she assured them that this Gallantry had given way to such witty things as well in Prose as Verse, that thousands of Persons have been divertized by it, and that she did also in the like manner; so that this Letter must not be read as coming from a Gallant, but as from a sensible Mistress, and that the truth was, that they both of them had ill represented their Personages, because that the Baron had too soon submitted himself; and that for he part she did not use those Cares and Endeavours as passionate Lovers use. The Cavaleer would willingly that Madamoiselle d'Armand had not justified her self so well, and that they had but doubted of what she said: But the rest of the Company had too good thoughts of her, not to render her that Justice as was her due: They found this Gallantry very pleasing and capable of giving much diversion: They enlarged no further upon this to obtain time for the reading the other Letter, but before they read them the Dutchess pulled this Song out of her pocket, and gave it to Madamoi­selle [Page 124] d'Armond, who she desired to sing the Treble part of it, and the Cavaleer d'Estapes she desired to sing the Base with her, which they did in the manner following.

After this Song had been most harmonioufly Sung by these two Persons, they returned a­gain to their Letters, and the Second was for the Baron d'Espare. with whom Madam [...] ­lus observed the same Ceremonies as with the rest; and she had without trouble the per­mission to let the Company hear it: See here what it did contain.

This Letter pleased all the Company ex­treamly, and I believe they had enlarged this matter eurther, for the Company thought it handsome, and very proper for a Conversation; but at the Hour it was they were all for defer­ring of it for another time: The Company de­parted after their leave taken of the Dutchess to go and seek their Repose.

CHAP. IV.

THe Fourth day began by an agreaable sur­prizal; The Dutchess had caused by the arrival of two of the Fairest Ladies of the Court; the Countess d'Ermond, and Madam d'Eyrac they had notice that there was a great company at this Ladies; they owed her a Vi­sit, and were glad to make use of that oppor­tunity while they were pleasingly at their Di­version: Monsieur d'Arignan was of the par­ty, and accompanied them in this Visit; he was a brave wit, and who had a gallant way with him for Conversation, and who fulfilled his duty very well in the Circle; as the Com­pany enlarged, so the Dutchess did augment the expences; if it were possible to add any thing to the magnificense with which she trea­ted her Guests. VVe must acknowledg that since this day it was but a meer profusion that appeared in the smallest Collasions which she gave them in Basons full of Comfits, in most exquisite Wines, in other Liquors, and in all that a man could wish that was most delicate. A Ball was their diversion for some part of the afternoon, and if I had undertook to relate all that passed in this House, I should have [Page 134] somewhat to amuse the Reader from time to time with in particulars that perhaps might not displease him; but since I am tyed only to the conversations of the Evening, which were kept in the green Arbour, I must (not to leave my design) refer my self to what they have sayed. The Dutchess who had taken great delight in the History of these Nuns, and who had a desire that it might serve for this Evenings Conversation, had intreated Madamoiselle d'Armand to re­late to the two Ladies which were newly come, that which the Cavaleer had al­ready told them: This Damsel acquitted her self faithfully and wittily of her Office, and gave much delight to these two Ladies, espe­cially to Madam d'Eyrac, to whom this Histo­ry was not unknown, and who consequently told the Countess d'Ermond that she knew it; they had no sooner took their places in the Circle according as they came, but the Dut­chess addressing her self to the Cavaleer, told him that he must make an end of what he began the day before, and that no other que­stion should be proposed, nor any other Pa­stime before he had ended the recital of this Adventure; the Cavaleer endeavoured to re­fuse it by a thousand subtleties, and instantly entreated the Dutchess that she would dis­pence with him, and he would not submit at last but by compulsion; that which vexed him [Page 135] most of all was, that the Lady Sindal, and Madamoiselle d'Armand told him that what he did was only because he desired intreaties; but however they could not do him a grea­ter kindness. Notwithstanding all these Rai­leries he must proceed in his History, he had very many Reasons not to continue it because of Madam d'Eyrac, who was not ignorant of the least circumstance as he knew very well himself. This Lady smiled in her heart to see the trouble he was in; she had her Eye on him on purpose to discountenance him; at length he began his discourse at where he had left off, but with so great a negligence, and so little regard to all what he said, that it was no more the same thing, but a weak and light recital, which was nothing like what he had accounted before; there was no Body but perceived it, the Dutchess was the first that told him that it was pitty to hear him relate it in that man­ner, and that he had not this day the same wit as formerly: The other Ladies made him the same reproaches, except the Countess d'Er­mond, and Madam d'Eyrac who took his part; for my part I believe said the first of these two Ladies with an agreeable smile, that the Cava­leer never wanteth wit, but that he yet hath more discression & that is it that obligeth him to touch but lightly upon things which may injure the reputation of a sort of People whom we ought to respect more than others. [Page 136] And what is this discretion answered the La­dy Sindal that he hath not taken care for till to day, and before a company who knoweth not so much as of what Countries those are of which he speaketh. I ask your pardon Ma­dam replyed the Countess d'Ermond to her if there were none here Yesterday that were ac­quainted with these Nuns, there may be to day who can inform you better than he of the particulars of this History. Ah Madam re­plyed presently the Lady Sindal, it is you then! I pray tell us what you know in it: The other Ladies made the same request to her; but she answered that they must address them­selves to Madam d'Eyrac, who was a witness of part of these Adventures: The Cavaleer was confused; the Ladies laughed, and the Dutchess told him that instead of troubling himself he ought to be glad of this Ren­counter of [...]nding some body that can relate a History which would not seem so well in his mouth as in anothers: she consequently en­gaged Madam d'Eyrac to take upon her the trouble of relating it. This Lady did it ve­ry obligingly: she first smiling asked the Ca­valeers permission, and she afterwards began in this manner.

Since the Cavaleer said she hath had the discression not to name the persons of whom he spoke; I believe you will not require more of me than you did of him, a thousand Rea­sons [Page 137] forbid it me, and it would be no great addition to the History, nor augment the pleasure in any thing which you will have to hear that which I am going to tell you.

There is perhaps no Body here but know­eth it is now two Years since the misfortune that hapned upon my Family, which obliged Monsieur d'Eyrac my Husband to absent him­self from the Court. In this great subject of affliction I went to one of my Friends who was a Nun in the Monastery of which we speak to seek such Consolation as I might find by a retreat from the sight of all things that might cause any trouble.

I'llnot tell you whether what the Cavaleer hath told you be true or no, because he had known these Ladies above a Year when I came thither, and to speak the truth what I have understood is not much unlike what he hath related to You, but I will warrant you for the truth of what I shall relate to you in what passed in my time.

I was very lovingly received in this Mona­stery, there was no civility which the Ab­bess shewed me not, and every day they would strive who could oblige me most, it was almost a month that the Cavaleer had not been there. I had heard speak of him some­times as a very civil Gentleman, for whom the Abbess had a great esteem, and from whom she often received Letters; he came a few [Page 138] dayes after me. I presently perceived that this esteem had something of much tenderness in it, and that this Friendship had some re­semblance of Love. The Abbess who was endued with much goodness, and who put much confidence in me, would conceal no­thing from me; she would exceedingly com­mend her Cavaleer to me; she would rank him above the pitch of all men, and would not only have had me to applaud him, but to have judged her not indiscreet in these Con­cernes so long as things seemed to me not to go too far: I dissembled, but when I came to know that this friendship wrought the same effects as Love, and that it excited jealousie in the two Sisters, that it caused sighings and languishings, that they let fall Tears, I could not for bear declaring my thoughts to the Ab­bess, and to represent to her that this En­gagement might one day do her a prejudice, and that an Amorous affair ought not to en­ter into a Monastery. She outwardly seemed to take friendly the freedom I used to her, but in truth this good advise caused her to carry her self but more coldly to me; she could have desired something more of Complaisance from my Friendship, her Disease being al­most without remedy, she could have desired at least that I would have supported her in it; this occasioned my having less correspondence with her, and that I saw her no more than by [Page 139] duty, because I would not altogether break off with a person who hath command where I lived, and to whom I had already been ve­ry much Obliged; her Sister managed it some­thing better, she concealed appearances, and although she had no less esteem or tenderness for the Cavaleer than the Abbess, she not­withstanding acted before the world like a Maid almost indifferent: She had also some­thing more of wit than her Eldest Sister, but not so much beauty: I'll begin the recital of these Adventures if the Company think it requisite where the Cavaleer left off Yester­day; for what he hath told You to day is but a feeble Crayon of what You shall now hear; It was when his Man had taken the Abbess for her Sister, and when he had gave her the Letter which he should have given to the o­ther, into what a rage and fury did this Fair Lover enter when she had seen the Trea­son of this Letter; the least thing her passion suggested to her was to be revenged on the Traytor to cause him to be killed, a Maid in whom she trusted most, and who was too Young to take the liberty to give her advise, would come every evening before she went to her rest, and repeat to me a part of her Follies, at which in truth I did but divert my self: The Abbess then as the Cavaleer hath told You brought her Sister with her to this Rendezvous, where the Gentleman failed not [Page 140] to be at the hour appointed; his Surprizal was great as we may imagine, to see the two Siste [...]s together, after what the Abbess had writ to him how she would not have any one know of this Enterview, more especially her Sister; he also remembred what he had writ to the other, and the entreaty he made in the Letter he wrote her, she should not be con­cerned at this assignation how nothing should prejudice her, he knew not at length what to believe, and of a thousand thoughts he had remaining in his Brain in the moment he saw these Ladies, there was not one which came near the truth, so incredible was it to him to imagine that such an accident should befall him in the midst of that cruel anguish that de­spight and jealousie made the Abbess to suffer, she relished a most extream joy to see the Ca­valeers trouble; but her Sister was filled with nothing but grief for her part, the Violence she used to contain her self was the rudest thing a heart could endure, she could abide no lon­ger there, she must retire, but it was when she had considered him from head to foot with a look full of disdain, choler, and indignation, and without speaking to him: the poor Lo­ver who began to waken out of his first sur­prizal, fell into a second much more cruel when he had seen in what manner she looked upon him and had fled from him; I know not said he in speaking to the Abbess what I have [Page 141] done to your Siner that in my presence should cause her to flee, I expected not this Ri­gor; it is because answered him the Abbess coldly, we also expected not to have seen You make so quick a return, and because we have little occasion for You here. Ha! if it be so as You say Madam replied the Cavaleer to her presently, I swear to You You shall not keep me here much longer, for I hate above all to incommode people. But how ever Ma­dam added he presently, I hope You will not take it I'll if I go to know of Your Sister her self if this be the reason that Obligeth her to treat me thus: after that I shall continue with You no longer time than for to bid You adieu; and in saying that he ran towarde the Faire afflicted one whom he overtook just as she was entring into the Monastery. What's the mat­ter Madam (said he to her quite out of breath) that You fly me? say rather perfideous (an­swered she him) that I should not see thee; but at length thy Treacheries are discovered, and thou shat deceive me no more, for while I live I'll never see thee more: After these words she went in, shut the door upon her, and left the sad-hearted Cavaleer in the pitti­fullest condition a man could be reduced to; he will tell You himself that he was a hundred times ready to kill himself, and that he would have sald a thousand Injuries against her, could she have heard them; his Conscience reprca­ched [Page 142] him not of any Infidelity, he thought he had done nothing against his duty in this assignation, since he had given her notice by a Letter, and he knew very well that his heart towards this Fair-one did not deserve the name of Perfideous: So rude a treatment made him take a resolution to be gone, without stay­ing any longer, hoping that time would make his Mistress know the wrong she was in, or that despite and absence would cure him of his Love: The Abbess who had followed him close to have hindred an explanation, came in the same instant; he accosted her in a man­ner which testified his despair, and scarce be­holding her; what you told me Madam said he to her, is more true than ever I thought, and the air with which I am here treated is so strange, that it maketh my wonder so much the greater, for that I know not the reason of it; there is no other way left for me then not to remain a minute longer in a place where I am so ill received. Just so (answered him the Abbess) all Traytors ought to be recompen­ced for their perfideousness: It is now no time replied the Cavaleer to her to ask you what reason you have to call me by this name, because I must now be gone, and deliver you from a man who is more than importunate to you. It is enough for you to remember that it was You that caused me to come hither to day: I came according to my promise, and [Page 143] you have permitted, and perhaps also called your Sister to come hither, whom you charged me so much to keep ignorant of this Enter­view. Yes Traytor! answered she him, all overcome by her passion, and it is in what thy base heart hath failed: Tell me, base one? whe­ther thou didst not write what I desired thee to conceal? The Cavaleer was so strangely sur­prized at this, that he remained confused, and did effectively believe that his Mistress had revealed the Letter he had sent her. Neverthe­less not to fall into a greater confusion; if it should come to a clearer Evidence, he would break off upon this occasion: I know not very well Madam said he to her very uncon­cernedly what it is you mean: but if all these reproaches, and all these injuries tend only to drive me from hence, I assure you you give your self a trouble without cause, and that there need not so much to deprive me of the desire of ever setting my foot here again. I am going to take my leave of You continued he in going to leave her, and Madam Farewell for ever. The Abbess stayed him, and told him after she had become something milder, that whatever reason they had to act (al­though) worse with him than yet they had done, they would not let him go at the hour it was. Whether You have reason or not re­plied the Cavaleer to her abruptly, I am so little accustomed to be received thus wherever [Page 144] I go, that I very impatiently can bear all the minutes I abide here to get out of the trouble I am in: I pray Madam permit me proceeded he in endeavouring to get loose from her, to take use of the time that yet remains: But I will not let You go to night said the Abbess to him, and if You think I have yet some power over You to oblige You to do any thing for my sake, You will make it appear in this. I have somewhat to say to You, and it will be time enough to morrow to do your pleasure. The Cavaleer prayed her not to stay any longer if she had any thing to say to him, and that on any other occasion he would te­stifie to her the respect he had for her, but that he could in no wise stay. We will see that said she, and they separated the one from the other in this manner. The Abbess was like those unfortunate Lovers who in their des­paires know not what they would have; she who but a moment before would have been glad not only to banish the Cavaleer from her presence but to ruine him, had not the power to see him leave her. What a weak thing is Choler against an Object that hath known how to charm us: How illy can a heart be reven­ged on what it loveth? It is commonly the Lover only that suffereth, and one seldom punisheth that which is loved: She gave or­der to stop the Cavaleers Horses, but some­thing too late, for he was ready to be gone [Page 145] and he seeing the meanes they used to hind him, and that he must yet have some time to make up his baggage, he chose rather to leave his man behind him, and to go and lie the same Evening about a league from the Mona­stery, where he was to meet him the next morning: The Abbess heard of this departure with a sensible displeasure; she in words mis­used those whom she had sent to stay him, be­cause they let him go; she knew not what to become, nor do; she was informed that his man was left behind; she sent for him, and by force of presents pumped out of him all she desired to know; her trouble was half dimi­nished when she knew that her Lover lay but a mile from her; her passion which would have made her try all meanes at this instant, furnished her with a design which in a Religi­ous Lady was not pardonable, unless one would pardon all things in Love: This little god is never accustomed to Inspire any thing too just, nor to consult Reason; there is no­thing that he will not make any one do when he designs any thing: The Maid of whom I have already spoken who was her particular Confident entred into her Chamber just as she was thinking on this; and seeing her in a profound study, she believed she was busie, and would have excused her self for coming to in­terrupt her privacies: No no my dear Com­panion said the Abbess to her, (for thus she [Page 146] called her) You come in a better time than You think, I wanted You, and I may say that there is but You only from whom I may hope for relief in the trouble I am in: This Maid answered her with much acknow­ledgment for the favour she did her, as to consider her even to that point, and assured her with a thousand respectful protestations of fidelity and tenderness, that there was no­thing which she would not do for her: The Abbess embraced her five or six times most tenderly, sighed, wept, and did in such man­ner move the heart of her dear Confident, that she saw her in a condition to undertake all things to serve her; insomuch that this poor Maid begg'd of her with the tears in her eyes that she would tell her the cause of this affli­ction: You know said the sad-hearted Lover to her, with a look extreamly pittiful (You who know all the passages of my heart) with what Ingratitude the Cavaleer hath of late requited the tenderness I have for him: This Traytor after all my tokens of Goodness hath had yet the baseness to leave me whether I would or no, and to go without so much as bidding meadieu. You may see by that Ma­dam answered the Maid to her (wisely) how much unworthy he is of the favour You show him, and how he meriteth not any more esteem from You. I am resolved replied the Abbess to come to where You say, and I see my self [Page 147] enough disposed to it: But the trouble I am in at present, and which I cannot overcome, is for not having had the pleasure to reproach him of his perfidious actions, and for that he perhaps goeth with this opinion, that I am not undeceived in all his Treacheries. I would especially erap the joy of making him blush for the last he showed me, and which I have not yet told You: If thou lovest me my dear Companion, added she with her charming meen, thou wilt find some meanes whereby I may at least content my heart, and that I may at length break off with the most Ingrateful of all men, without which my dear Child I can­not promise thee to live much longer in the displeasure and Choler I am in, and thou wilt lose thy best of Friends: This Maid who in the Intrigues of Love was not the subtilest in the world, and who yet saw nothing of the Abbesses designe, proposed to her to write a Letter to this Traytor filled with Injuries: But this satisfaction was too weak for a passi­onate Lover; I can never express my self well in writing said she, and upon a subject so full of Injustice to punish a Criminal as he ought to be, the persons offended should with their own mouths make those reproaches to him he deserveth, that they may have the advantage of confuting him. Well Madam said her Com­panion to her, what will You do then unless it be to wait his return? The innocence of [Page 148] this Maid did almost make the Abbess smile. Can one replied she to her, contain ones dis­pleasure so long against a man who is not in­different to me? No, no, if You think good proceeded she with a blush that overspread her whole Visage, we will not differ so much in our revenge on him, thou art enough to execute the design; if thou hast the courage to follow me, we will find out this perfide­ous man who is but a small league from hence, and thou shalt see to what a height I will scrue the thing, and if a man can be loaded with Injuries and Reproaches, I protest to You that he shall. So bold a Proposition at first did strangely surprize this Maid; she who was afraid to walk in the Night about the Mo­nastery without a light, could not but think this a thing too dangerous and full of horror, to dare to expose them two alone at that hour to the troublesome accidents of a great high way: But the Abbess knew how to represent this Enterprize so sure and easie to her, and so uncapable of any ill rencounter in that little way they were to go, and in so fine a Night, that at length she over-perswaded her, and made her to Love even a Novelty: The Ab­bess extreamly reioycing for having o'recome her dear Companion, thought on nothing more than getting of Horses, she would not use her own because of going forth privatly, she chose rather to have recourse to her Far­mer [Page 149] to let her have three Horses, and not to fail to send them the same Evening; the man went immediatly, and left the Ladies who were preparing themselves to get on Horse­back; the first thing the Abbess did was to give out that she was something indisposed, and that she would go to her bed; she took her leave of those that served her, and had none remaining with her but her dear Companion, as she had formerly; as soon as they were by themselves, they began to undress them to put on their riding apparel; those of the Abbess were extream gallant, and in which they dres­sed themselves with as much care as if they they had been to go to some Assembly, more especially the Abbess who was unmindful of nothing she knew would handsomly a lorn her she was the last that was ready: But how­ever there could be no Body in a more neater Garb than her self; her Chamber was not far from the Garden, they might get thither with­out noise, and without any bodies seeing them as they did, and as soon took their way towards the back door where the Servant was to meet them with the Horses; one would have taken them for two Amazones going to the siege of some place by the manner of their encouraging one another; they came to the gate of which only the Abbess had the Key, but no body was yet come; they already grew impatient by reason the man stayed so long, [Page 150] and that he was not yet returned; at length they heard the noise of some Horses which encouraged them, and gave them some hope of Joy; but we are sometimes deceived, and oftenest when we desire any thing to our ad­vantage; the greater the noise grew, the grea­ter was their fear that it might not be their Horses, as indeed the man they expected was not to come that way; insomuch that fear sei­zed upon them so strangely, & perplexed them so much that they hardly knew what to do; the Abbess who had something more of reso­lution than her Companion, endeavoured to encourage her upon the smal appearance there was that it should not be her man, and told her that he was doubtless come some other way, and so mistook his right road, and comes that way, and desired her to go two or three steps forward to see if what she said was not true: This poor Maid who was afraid of every Object, could never have the courage to do what the Abbess commanded her, and did most humbly entreat her not to put her courage to trial, that she could not go a step from her without she died; and that every tree gave her a mortal fear: The Abbess could not forbear smiling at the fearfulness of her Companion, and bid her that she should fear nothing for she would go with her; these two Fair ones then adventured some steps be­fore those that were coming; but they had [Page 151] no sooner discovered that they were two Horse-men coming with great haste towards them, but they fled and got into the Garden without so much as thinking to shut to the door after them, and never ceased running as long as they were able; at length they ap­proached the Monastery; both of them so spent, that they could scarcely breath; when they came home they in some measure regai­ned their courage, and being something come to themselves they began to laugh at the fear they had so improperly had for two men who designed only to proceed in their Journey; they took courage by the power of arguing upon the small subject they had to fear, and returned for the second time to that gate, where they found two Horses tyed to the foot of a Tree, and no body with them; the Abbess after she had taken good notice of e­very thing, without discovering who it might be, found her self much concerned to consi­der why these two Horses should be there without a servant, and concluded after all (as it is easie to conclude things to ones advan­tage) that they might be her Farmers Hor­ses, and that they must expect her man who was doubtless gone some-whither hard by, and indeed that was not altogether unlikely, and it was unlikely that any other would leave two Horses thus; however this man came not again; the Abbess dyed with impatience, and [Page 152] the time seemed so tedious that she feared lest the day-break might come, and that they might not have not night enough to execute their design closely: It was a punishment for her to stay, she would have Sworn a thousand times (if Abbesses swear) that they were her Farmers Horses, that she knew them, and that her man must either be hindred else-where with the other Horse, or that he was fallen a­sleep somewhere else, but they might also be the two Horses upon which they had seen the two men riding; she would not consult upon that, because we commonly love not to con­fute our selves upon those subjects that go a­gainst our desire, we rather endeavour to de­ceive our selves; this Servant appeared not; the impatient and most truly love-sick Abbess told her saithful Companion that they must make use of their time, and that the Occasion was too fair to be neglected: That this Ser­vant was not so necessary but that they may pass without him, and that he may follow them if he would: Her dear Companion a­greed to all she desired, she was willing for a­ny thing if they could have but any to direct them the way; so that without staying any longer our two Adventurers put foot in the stirrup, and made so great diligence, that in less than an hour without any ill Adventure they arrived to the place where the Cavaleer [Page 153] was: It was the Abbess that knocked at the door and who asked for a Gentleman that lodged there: They answered her that truly there had been one that Evening, but that he was gone from thence an hour ago with a Lacquey that had brought him a Letter; she still persisted in some questions to the Master of the House concerning the way they went, and the Livery of the Foot-man, whether it might be long before this Gentleman would return? whether he had eaten? and at length even to ask him whether he seemed melancholy or merry? but the man knew not what to say, all that he knew for certain was, that he would not return that night, and that he had left no Order with them; no body could be more sad than was the poor Abbess then; a thou­sand thoughts assaulted her at a time, of which there was not one but selt heavily; what heaps of grief and inquierness? O the cruel Jealousies well or ill grounded! O the rage! the despair! to promise her self so much satis­faction in coming, and so many sweet Fancies which she had, and to return more dis­consolate than ever: Her Companion who was extreamly troubled to see her so strangely sad, would have given her some consolation. Why do You afflict your self thus Madam said she to her? it is true that the labour we have taken is a lost one, but who knoweth whether it is not better for us that we have not prospe­red [Page 154] in our design of seeing the Cavaleer: You know him Madam, and as he is not the discree­test in the world, perhaps this Visit might have caused some rumors, we are at least assu­red that we have gone a Journey without any ones knowledg: Without any ones knowledg replied sadly this afflicted Lover; seest thou not my Child that weare betrayed, & that my Sister hath known ovr design, and that it was doubtless her that had sent this Lacquey to the Cavaleer to let him know what we inten­ded, and to oblige him to shun me: how can what You say (Madam answered her this Maid) be true, if it be so long since the Cavaleer went from hence, you then scarce knew of your de­sign: what reason dost thou think then should use him to so sudden a departure (said the Ab­bess.) In fine, whatsoever her Companion told her after she had mused upon a great ma­ny reasons, she came alwaies to say again that her Sister had done this thing, and that no­thing had made him depart at that hour but her: This imaginatien troubled her furi­ously; her Jealousie encreased, and she was perplexed with so many sorts of grief, that she saw none but subjects of sorrow no where for her: This entertainment was something different to that she had had in going to see the Cavaleer; she scarce spoke to her Compa­nion, and whatsoever the other said to her to cause her to leave these sad musings, she would [Page 155] answer her in nothing but profound sighes; they began however to think when they came home what they should do with their Horses, which they found not a little troublesome; but at last the best and surest way they judged was to let them into the Garden, and to tye them some-where till it was day, that they might carefully sead them home again to the Far­mers. After that they had no more to do but to goe to the Monastery; however they were not got to the middle of the Garden before they found something to stay them, they both thought they heard people talk. The Confi­dent who walked some steps before the Ab­bess, and whose mind was less busied, was the first that took notice, and told her in making a sudden turne, that there assuredly was some body in the Garden; the Abbess lent an atten­tive Ear, and found that her Companion was in the right: Here it was she put a Truce to her Trouble; so that she was now filled with nought but curiositie; whatever subject of Grief any person hath, if any thing hapneth to surprize them, and that may be capable to busie them they feel no more sorrow, & their troubles are as a sleep in them; her Jealousies were all allarumed at this noise; she knew that none beside her self but her Sister had a Key to come out of the Monastery into the Garden, and this only Reason was more than sufficient to make her think that it was she with the Ca­valeer [Page 156] who were entertaining each other in at Love-commerce, she would at least know the truth of it. Jealousie breedeth courage in Women, and Love leadeth them every where; she who on another occasion would perhaps have been afraid for a less cause was not fear­ful to go and discover who those were in the Garden; and bid her Companion who trem­bled with fear to come softly after her, they walked a while by the side of a hedge which hid them, for the night was light, and they might be discerned at a good distance; they approached as near as they could to an Arbor from whence they heard he noise come, till they began to discern the Cavaleers voice, but not to discover very well what he said; where­fore they crept something nearer, and so near that the Abbess did at length hear her Sister, who spoke thus: But you do not consider to what I expose my self, and in what you ha­zard your self, for without making reflection on what hath hapned to so many unhappy Wo­men who relying upon the Faith of men, have lightly forsaken themselves, in which thing they notwithstanding found they were decei­ved; I imagine that You have more sincerity and honour in You than all those people have; consider the noise my flight will make, how furiously we shall both be sought for by my Parents, and into what strange misfortune I shall lead you if you fall into their hands: [Page 157] Oh Heaven! once more continued she, let us not try any thing so full of danger, and let me rather die here in sorrow, than precipitate our serves into so dangerous a gulf: You will then Madam replied another to her, whom the Abbess knew to be the Cavaleer, have me to leave You to al the Cruelties Jealousie is ca­pable of inventing against you to all the inju­ries and all the affronts that You will receive from your Sister, to a hundred other things which I consider, and which will make me tremble for You: You know I have no more the liberty to see You, that they retuse it me, and that I have been used too illy here to pre­sent my self without shame, You desire my death then: If You love me Madam— Alas! If I love You interrupted she, You know it but too well. If (proceeded the Cavaleer) You desire I should not doubt of it, and if my love and services have merited Your doing any thing for me, as You have told me many times, You will leave considering on it any more and follow me. Let us make our selves happy dear Lady of my Affections, since we may do it; our flight is easie, my Servant and Yours are both at the Garden gate who ex­pect us with Horses; all things favour us, and I promise You in less than three hours to guide You to a place where not only any Bo­dy shall ever imagine where we are, but where You shall not have cause to fear any [Page 158] thing though it were known. The Cavaleer said no more after that, to hear the answer his dear Mistress would make him, who begin­ning to sigh, be gone said [...]he Cavaleer, for I fear if You urge me much, that You will ob­tain of me more than I ought to grant; I pray depart hence before my weakness overcometh my duty. You your self if you are more rea­sonable than I (as You should be) strengthen my heart against your self: I'll not assure you I can resist You, and the trouble in which I am is so great, that I find my Vertue is going to forsake me to follow You. Adieu then; but grant I may: After these words they heard her weep, at which the Cavaleer immediatly cryed out, no rather grant you may still con­tinue Conqueror of my heart: Grant you may believe a Love thus tender and passionate, submit to my services and to my fidelity which are but too well known to you to doubt it; much more he said which was very tender and loving, which pierced the heart of the Abbess in the same time that he won that of her Sister. It were unnecessary to present to You the different Passions which Occupied these two Ladies at that time, (viz.) the love, languishing, and tender sighs of the Youngest, and the despight, shame and rage of the Eldest who had the patience to hear even to the end an entertainment as cruel for her, as it was [Page 159] charming for her Sister. Imagine then she saw her disposed to satisfie the Cavaleers desire, and that the Fair-one was making preparation to go with him, for she wanted cloaths more suitable to travel in than those she then wore, and so went to her Chamber to fetch them: The Abbess let her pass by her, and came not out from where she was till a great while af­ter, and then she fetched a great turn, and with her Masque on her Face came into the Arbour where the Cavaleer was, who as soon as he saw her he embraced her with much tenderness, and manifested many tokens of his Love to her; How charming are You said he to her taking her for his Mistress, in that You have not made no long stay, for truly I was im­patient to see Your Return: But what Vi­olence did she use to conceal her displeasure, it being not yet time for her to make her self known, nor discover her self: You need not wonder at the mistake of the Cavaleer; she seemed not so strange in the night-time, for besides the little difference there is in the sta­ture of these two Ladies, there was notwith­standing a thousand things which contributed to deceive him, and he had so little reason to imagine the contrary, that it was impossible for him even to see his error, unless he had un­masked her and had taken special notice of her, as this was no place for them to discourse in, he spoke but little to her, and he thought on [Page 160] nothing but to secure himself in the place of safety in which he had already designed to be; the Abbess answered him not a word to all he said to her, upon which he made even no reflection, having his mind busied about his enterprize; and in this sort they went to the gate, where he was not a little surprized to find it shut; but she presently eased him of that trouble, and took the Key she had a­bout her and opened it; by what meanes, or rather by what good Fortune said the Cava­leer then to her, (who knew that none but the Abbess had the Key to that door: Have you had this Key?) she answered him no more than before, at which he took as little notice as before, and went forth to get pre­sently on Horse-back, but the Horses were gone from thence, and his man who had been seeking them, told him in a sad note, that he knew not where they were, and that he had been two hours about them without hearing of them, that he was come to acquaint him, and that he was going again to see if he could find them, because he knew very well that they could not be lost, and that no Body had been that way. I could never tell the Abbesse's designe, whether what she did was dexterously to confound this Enterprize, or whether she really desired to supply her Sisters place; but I will tell you that as soon as she had heard what the man had said concerning [Page 161] the Horses, she re-entred the Garden, and shut to the door after her: Never was man surprized like this poor Lover; he could scarce believe what he saw, that his Fair-one should leave him in this manner, and that which seemed more strange to him, that she should shut the door upon him: I believe there is none but he that could truly represent what one might think in an Adventure so cruel, and so exttaordinary: He knocked five or six times at the door, he called his Mistress, he complained of Love and destiny, swore, cursed, threatned to kill his man, and in fine there was no rage like his, while the Abbess returned to her Companion loaden with joy for what she had done, and to hear the Cavaleer cry out in that manner; she was not yet come to the Arbour before-mentioned, but she heard the noise of some body who walked with much eagerness, and who according to all likeli­hood could be none but her Sister as she doubted it not, and went before her very flowly the same way she came; this poor La­dy who had not all the assurance in the world, and who besides the horror which accompani­eth all actions of this nature, walked musing upon a thousand Obstacles which she might meet in her way, had no sooner cast her eyes upon the Abbess, but she believed it was a Ghost, and sadly trembling with fear, she be­gan to make a dreadful shreek, and to run as [Page 162] as she was able towards the Monastery. The Abbess did most agreeably require all the cruel displeasures which her Sister had given her; she let her run to come again to her Companion, who waited for her with extream impatience, being furiously troubled to be thus alone in the middle of a Garden exposed to all the noises she heard, which assaulted her with fear; she related to her all she had done since she had left her, and how she had de­ceived the Cavaleer, and how her Sister was frighted, which made them both to laugh with much Joy; they stayed a little longer to see if she would return, but in vain, the fright of this Lady was such that she was like to dye, and she kept her bed a very long time; at length they retired, and used good meanes that no body might go forth of the Monaste­ry in having double locked the door. Here is said Madam d'Eyrac in concluding this Hi­story the greatest particularities I know of the Adventure of these Ladies with the Cavaleer; he may now tell you what is not come to my knowledg; I will only add that it was no sooner day but the Abbess sent for her man, and asked him where he had been the last night? and why he came not to the door where she had ordered him to wait for her; the Young man told her how her Farmer had had no Horses at home, and that at his return he found two Cavaleers who were going into the [Page 163] Garden, and whom he dare not approach for fear of making himself known that he went a­way, and that being returned half an hour af­ter to the same place, he had found the door locked: By the report of this man the Ab­bess was well and clearly satisfied in what she desired throughly to know; she did not fur­ther doubt but the Horses they used belonged to the Cavaleer, she gave Order to this Ser­vant to let them out of the Garden, and to let them wander in the fields, but in such manner however that they may be found: Madam d'Eyrac said no more, and turning her self to the Cavaleer, it belongeth to You said she, to recount to us what You know more; the rest of the company did likewise entreat him most obligingly, insomuch that he could not re­fuse. Mndam d'Eyrac (proceeded he) hath told you so much, that I see my self constrai­ned to satisfie you to the end; you must know then that after I was separated from the Ab­bess, and had left her in the Garden in the manner you have been told, I went to pre­pare all things for my departure, but before I writ a Note to Egidia, which was near these termes.

When I had done writing, the Abbess Ser­vants came, who after they had entreated me as from her to stay this Evening, would truly have hindred my departure. Nevertheless when they saw I began to be angry with them, they made no more Opposition; but my man tarried too long, and I feared that the Abbess might come herself to Oblige me to stay: So that I saw my self constrained in the impati­ence I was to depart this place, and to leave it with my Baggage. I gave him this Letter with Order to give it into her own Hands, and to bring me an answer it she would send one. In this manner then I forsook a place which since more than a Year was the dear Object of my pleasures, and I abandoned it so silled with different troubles, that all the way from the Monastery to the place where I was to Lodge I was without coming to my self immoveable and almost bereft of my Senses, and lost (as I may say) in sorrow. You may think that when I came there I demanded neither Meat nor Drink. True Lovers at the time they are reduced to the condition I was in, feed upon nothing but Tears, and sleep is their mortal Enemy. It was in the strongest of these cru­el moments that I was advertized that a Ser­vant waited to speak with me, I bid them to send him into my Chamber, and saw that it was my dear Egidia's who I embraced with my whole heart, and who after having Saluted me [Page 166] as from his Mistress, gave me a Note she had writ to me, which contained this.

As soon as I had read this Note, I mounted on Horse-back, and in a very little time came to the Garden wall, where I knew of a place that was not difficult to climb up, having notwithstanding found the door open, I made use without going further of so favourable an occasion; it is true it surprized me, and I did truly believe that Egidia had found out a way to open it: I bid her Lacquey tye the two Horses to the foot of some Tree, and to make hast without any noise to advertize my man to prepare himself at the time given to depart with me: After I had given this Order, I went, or to speak better, I flew directly to this Arbor, where Egidia waited for me; it was at that instant when the Abbess returned to the Garden-gate that she found my Hor­ses, that she took them for those her man should have brought, and that she used them to render me that extraordinary Visit. But not to continue longer in the relation of a small History which doth already begin to seem long: I will only tell You that Egidia recei­ved me in this Arbour with a joy which made me forget all the evil usage I had received from [Page 168] her, that we both of us passed some moments in very much tenderness, and that the brigh­test day that could be, never seemed so plea­sant to me as did this charming night; I spoke to her of the Letter which I had sent her, she was surprized, and assured me that she had not received it; we presently thought that it was fallen into the hands of the Abbess, and that my Servant must have been mistaken, or have betrayed me. In fine, after many justi­fications on both sides, after I say many to­kens of new Friendships, of sighs and langui­shings where Lovers abound in a sweet recon­ciliation, I proposed to her to carry her away, as you have heard from Madam d'Eyrac; I urged her so much and in so many wayes, that at length she consented, and prepared her self to follow me: I confess I was a little surprized to see her so soon returned; but who had then thought on the Abbess? I saw her Masked, she was in a riding Garb, she scru­pled not to go with me; and in a word, if my Horses had been ready, there is no doubt but if she was willing, I should have carried her away for her Sister; I will not stay to tell You the wonder that seized me when I saw her re-enter the Garden, and shut the door up­on me, I thought at first that she had a mind to jest; but as her railery lasted something too long for people that had no time to loose, and that she came not although I called never so [Page 169] loud, I thought to my self that this was no jesting: I imagined that she feigned to follow me only to put this trick upon me, and that I had been the most abused of all men; then was it that shame, spite, and disdain excited terrible tempests in my Soul, which joyned to the displeasure of not knowing what were be­come of my Horses, nor what might be become of my self, put me into such despair, that com­plaints, reproaches, and injuries came forth of my mouth in multitudes against Egidia; this Offence seemed to me the greatest that any Gentleman could receive. I considered it e­very way, and there was no circumstance but made it plain to me. I retired in this manner into the Village, for there was no other way for me, and I lodged at my Ancient Host's, where I passed away a much more cruel night than I did the first time I came there. I recol­lected in my mind all the services I had ren­dred to this Ingrateful One, all the false pro­mises she had made to me; and wondring that I had not discovered the lightness of her Hu­mor, I accused my self both of Imprudence and Blindness; and I joyned to the first of my Despairs an Indignation against all that I had done that concluded my ruine. Oh, the extravagant Discourses I had this night! O the useless designes I made! in truth those that love extreamly are subject to a great many Fol­lies: It was no sooner day, but I asked my [Page 170] man for Ink and Paper to write to her, but it was with so much trouble and disorder, that I often blotted out what I had writ to her, no­thing could content me; sometimes it seemed as though I complained too mildly, and some­times I was afraid to offend her; I had some­times a desire to take an eternal Farewel of her, and a minute afterwards I would repent it. This is the Letter I sent her.

This Letter was given her by a Lacquey who an hour after brought me another from her, and told me that she was extream ill, which I plain y saw by her writing, which I could scarce read, and where I found these words.

This Letter moved me, and surprized me extreamly, but to speak the truth, were it not that she was very ill indeed, I had taken all she said for Chimera's, and pretences which she might use to excuse her levity. I do not think my self over-wise, hut I scarcely ever did believe these stories of Ghosts; however, when I reflected upon what she assured me, [Page 173] how she had not seen me since she had left the Arbour, I began to be something afraid also: I examined in my mind all that hapned to me with this pretended Ghost, and remem­bred very well that it spoke not a word to me; that it was sooner returned than I expected Egidia would: I fancied to my self that it had opened the door without a Key, and that when it left me it vanished: In a word, I in­sensibly gave way to my error, and that ser­ved to make me indeed think upon my Con­science, and to endeavour to reconcile my self with Heaven: I remained some dayes without so much at going to the Monastery to avoid seeing of the Abbess, who had sent to entreat me to return to the same Lodging I had be­fore with her: I excused my self as well as I could, and returned not before I had received this Letter, which her Sister had sent me by one of her Friends.

This place proceeded the Cavaleer is but lit­tle proper to divertize the Company, for here is nothing but Tears; I gave her a Visit, and I avow to you that I found my self so insensi­bly moved to see her in the condition she was in, that I could not be Master of my heart, I could not refrain giving of it ease by a Tor­rent of tears which immediatly trickled from my eyes; all that were present could not for­bear weeping with me, insomuch that even the Abbess was concerned to see in what manner I was afflicted; this poor Lady who endured no less than me, used some endeavour to tell me some things of concernment in the world, and spoke to me as if she had been to depart that day, and truly most of them believed that she would scarce live much longer; but Hea­ven would preserve her to be an example of a most rare constancy, and of a most sweet and civil Friendship in which we have lived ever since: Perhaps you know not said Madam de Eyrac to him, that no body hath contributed so much to the recovery of her health than me, and you shall see how; this Maid, or if you will the companion of the Abbess, who as I have tol dyou more than once reposed much consi­dence in me, failed not to come and give me [Page 175] an account of this Adventure, and how your Mistress had been frighted, so that it was not difficult for me to know the cause of her Ill­ness, and what might be the meanes to cure her mind: Every Body observed an extraordi­nary trouble in her Eyes, and such a disorder in her words, that she seemed to be in a con­tinual dream: I took pitty on her, and al­though it was to Sacrifice my Friend to de­clare the Secret which she had confided in me, I believed tha tin the extremity wherein this poor Lady was, there was nothing which I might not hazard to endeavour her recovery. I took the opportunity just when there was no Body wit her but a Young Maiden whom I did not mistrust, and I asked her boldly whe­ther her distemper proceeded not from some trouble of mine? and whether she thought me not enough her Friend? to declare it to me. She looked stedfastly upon me and blush­ed, thinking that I would speak of the Cava­leer: But having afterwards said that I per­haps knew the cause of her Illness better than she did her self, and that I could deliver her from the fear which she had in the Garden, she lifted her self suddenly up in the Bed, and ta­king me by the hand, Oh Heaven! Madam said she, what you tell me surprizeth me I Could it be possible that in my musings I should speak of any thing like that? no, no! answered I to her in interrupting her, I came [Page 176] to the knowledg of it some other way than by you, and I believe that no Body here ever heard you speak of any such thing; the Per­sons that frighted You told it to me, and I thought I ought not to leave you any longer in this trouble. I imagine that you will do so well that I may have no cause to complain of your discretion, and that you will make good use of the confidence I have in You: She pro­mised it me, and I told her all that had passed in the Garden after the manner I had heard it related, and which did so greatly amaze her, that she could scarce have believed me had I not told her all that hapned to her self, and even to the entertainment which she had had with the Cavaleer; she blushed; and I percei­ved that she was ashamed that I knew this part of the story. But in fine, since this time by little and little her mind was re­setled; she recovered her strength, and in a small time her Health entirely; I know not how she hath used it since with you; but I know that she had taken very strong resoluti­ons, that not knowing how to forbear to love You, she would do it in a manner that she might not render an account to Heaven. I will assure you Madam answered the Cavaleer to her that she hath also done it, and that it is no more than a Brotherly Friendship, to which in truth I had much difficulty to reduce my self, but she would have it; and at length I [Page 177] brought my self to it. I pray tell us a little said the Marchioness de Sindal how you af­terwards did with the Abbess, and in what manner you put her off. I believe proceeded the Cavaleer that the Abbess rebuked me fu­riously since the [...]t Evening, and that what she heard while I was in the Arbour with her Sister, finished her Cure. I ever avoided be­ing alone with her, during the small time I re­mained in the Abbey; and when I [...]epa [...]e I took my leave of her before live or six Ladies her Friends who were in her Chambe, with her: Here the Cavaleer ended his Story, and the Dutchess Invited the Company to take a small turn in the Garden before they retured, they were all the rest of the time entertaining each other about this Adventure, and divers were their Opinions; but having done tal­king (according to their usual custome when each dayes Conversation was ended) they ap­plied themselves to Madamoiselle d'Armand for a Song, and she gave them this.

At length the Hour being come to go to Best, the Dutchess took her leave of the Com­pany, and the remainder of the time was spent by every one in taking their repose.

CHAP. V.

THe Fifth day although it was the obscu­rest, was not the less recreative; on the contrary the Sun is never more pleasant in the Summer, than when he showeth himself with less pomp than ordinary, and under the thick Vale of some Clouds which he cannot pene­trate with his beams; the season was very proper to take a walk in. The Dutchess used it to give some Visits to some of her Neigh­bours, and she was accompanied by this illu­strious and most gallant company, and they returned not till about the Evening to take a magnificent Treat which the Duke had prepa­red for them in the same Arbour where the Circle was kept: things were no sooner taken away, but they had some agreeable discourse of Railery was a prelude to something better, and which served only to dispose their minds to furnish a most agreeable matter of Enter­tainment, the Dutchess who would give the Honour to the Countess d'Ermond entreated her to propose some Question; she excused it with a very good Grace, and immediatly asked her that they might continue to do as they had begun, and not to have these particular regards, that when it should come to her turn, she would speak as the rest: The Dutchess [Page 181] urged her no farther, and left this care to Madamolselle d'Armond who was ever in the charge of Lieutenant; this La [...]y said that it was not necessary to seek new subjects of En­tertainment, since there were already two upon the board, the gallanrest of the world, and wherein she for her particular was too much interested to set it pass by. I have not forgot continued she how two dayes since it was proposed to us to learn how to discover the false and true Lovers, and how a Lady might receive a declaration of Love; and I remember still very well added she, that the Count took upon him to tell us these two things which are important in the world, and wherein he will not fail to be succesful after he hath had some time of consideration. The Dutchess said, that in effect these were the two subjects of Conversation, which they did not continue, and she prayed the Company to give it attention: I avow to You answered the Count, that although I had prepared my self, as hath said Madamoiselle de Armond for a matter like this with which I should enter­tain You; I find it so difficult, that I shall still have trouble enough to come off with the success I should do: but be it in what manner it will, I will notwithstanding perform what You desire of me, and prefer the honour of obeying You before the shame of being un­succesful in my Enterprize. The first Coun­sel [Page 182] I pretend to give to a Lady, like that, whose Picture I drew three dayes ago, is not lightly to believe that she is loved, and to be the last to say it; there are I know not how many Women in the World who do not only believe all the protestations the men make them, but it rejoyceth them to hear what they will say to them when they sigh and complain by them; they endure with an ar­tificial Vanity all the praises they give them, or if they defend themselves, it is so weakly, and in a certain manner, that they may see it is not what they hate, and that maugre all their Grimaces, that the secret to please them is to flatter them. My Opinion is that a Lady should alwaies let them see that these sorts of Discourses molest them, that she loveth not that way to let them gain her esteem, that she knoweth her self, and whether she be Fair or not, that she knoweth it without giving any one the trouble to tell it her; she ought to i­magine that a man hath not much esteem for her, who dares to speak to her publickly of Love: that true Love rendreth people respect­ful, and that they must at least have sighed long before they come to a declaration: All thes [...] maxims are Touch-stones for the false sigher [...] and the least resistance sendeth them going, an [...] who are not Lovers but when a Lady is [...] innocent to let her self be perswaded to tendernesses, transports to Tears and to sighes [...] [Page 183] Comm [...]nd; they Swear that they alone hav [...] more love than all the met together, and they know not what this passion is, all their care tendeth only to make them believe what they say; but they are not alwaies believed; and I dare aver that were all Women reasonable, there would be no false Lovers, the self-weakness of this Sex draweth upon them all these Treacheries; the men would seek to deceive, the less did they not find so much Facility in it. Now as in former Times, there will ever be Traytors, and Women abused. But what said Madamoiselle de Armand to him, interrupting him, must a Woman then do when a man is so very bold as to make a declaration of his Love to her? must she be severe, and treat him illy, and send him away that he may not see her more? On the con­trary answered her the Count, I would only have her to give him an answer, whose dis­creet coldness might give him to understand that she taketh no pleasure in those sorts of Liberties, and if he be a Gentleman that know­eth how to carry himself with her, and who mentioneth not his passion to her, but in mo­dest termes and under a hidden sense, which is the way that witty persons use, I believe that it may be very easie for this Fair-one to rid her out of trouble, and that she may give to his words what signification she pleaseth, as if she understood nothing, and turn the discourse [Page 184] upon another matter, that if it so hapneth that she cannot but give what he saith the true meaning, she might convert it all into Railery, and attribute it to a certain custome which witty persons have when they are in company with Ladies, that they make it a ne­cessity to praise them, and to tell them that they love them; there is more safety that way, when a Lady hath the readiness to use it ingeniously. You speak said the Cavaleer as if all men were deceivers; and pray tell me to what torments should you not condemn a brave Gentleman that were truly in Love with a Lady; if they all followed your Maxims; should you be contented continued he to be in his place, and to be reduced to those affli­ctions which this passion is accustomed to make unfortunate Lovers suffer, when they find themselves with those that are insensible or given to Railery, which implyeth procee­ded he, that if the Women would believe you, they shall esteem the services and tears of heir Lovers, as if they were meer trifles, and a subjection more assiduous, more careful, and more earnest than that of slaves shall be for persons who shall disdain and laugh at us; you give in truth such counsels that are but little humane; you should beware how you instruct this Sex in new injustices, for this is not tru­ly just, and we commonly see them but too full of Cruelty. You are too soon moved [Page 185] answered the Count to him smiling; I have not yet spoken precisely of those that truly Love, but only in general of those who speak of Loving, and say they love. Here are many that say it too well to do it; 'tis commonly those who love most that speak it less; the eyes and silence speak in love, and one ever saith enough to those that revoyce to understand us; if I must speak the truth, I believe that it is very difficult to give certain rules upon what You now demand of me, for as many as there be of men, as many wayes are there to love, the Proverb confirmeth it enough, that saith, Let every one love ac­cording to his Guise: How shall I tell you then the cautions, a Lady ought to have upon this without first examining the different wayes of making Love; that which is most true, and ought to pass as a general Maxime, is that a Lady ought not to make it known that she lo­veth before she hath had great experiences of her Lover, and to wait till he discovereth it, because it is ever dangerous for a Lady to have discovered her fire, whereas the men make it their glory to have declared their passion. I perceive said the Baron that You will speak for the Married Women; for the Maidens I believe not that the most severe carriage can keep them from disclosing a hing so natural as is that to love, and to say that one loveth es­pecially to those of whose sidelity and love [Page 186] they are perswaded; if it were so the Love might return and continue in the place from whence it sprung; there is no man that would engage himself to Love in that manner unless it were to hate himself, I know not what would become of us: I speak answered him the Count of all Women, and much more for the Maids than the Married Women to whose Vertue these sorts of Engagements cannot but do much prejudice. What You aver there re­plied d'Arignan to him is very austere, not to permit the Married Women to love as well as the others. I will assure You there are but few would Marry were it so; we must leave these things to a Preacher, or to those that deny love to the world that they may have the better part: There are continued he so many unfortunate Women who without rea­son are so illy used by their Husbands; so ma­my others whom their Parents have Married to old jealous heads to Brutes to peevish Cox­combs that make them live in so strange a manner; if a Divorce was permitted for these Women, and that they could deliver themselves from their Tyrants, I would not pardon their weakness in loving else-where as long as they remained with them: But when by the effects of some bad star, or when their destiny will have it so, that in the bed where they should meet the pleasures of Love and Peace, they have these cruel Hang-men to tor­ment [Page 187] them, and with whom they must per­force live (if we may call the time they pass with them life:) Would You have these poor Ladies deprive themselves of the only plea­sure they have to oblige a Gallant Gentle­man which an Owl of an Husband hath not only in disdain but horror. I agree added de Arignan, that a Woman who hath a Husband that understandeth Reason, and who know­eth how to live, should rather dye than do him any Injury. But for the unfortunate Ones. I forgive them all, and they would do themselves wrong if they knew of a sure way to be revenged of their Domestick Enemies, and should not do it. The Ladies all laugh­ed at the opinion of d'Arignan, and the Dut­chess told him that he spoke as one Interested, and that if he had been a Woman, and a VVo­man of Honour, he would have had other O­pinions; she added further, that it was a naughty revenge to ruine her self to do her Enemy a displeasure, and that a Civil Lady had her actions to answer to others more than her Husband; however it is said the Count, to come to the Married persons, I say that it be­ing a thing that doth not alwaies depend up­on us not to love, I would that when this misfortune hapneth to any of them, and that the Injustice of her Husband, or the defire she hath for another, bringeth her to some incli­nation; I would I say have her make no other [Page 188] agreement with him than for a tender friend­ship and esteem, and never to give him such certain tokens of what she suffereth for him, whereby the Cavaleer might make it his glo­ry: There is no man said the Cavaleer but would Appeal from this sentence before the VVomen themselves: But after You have taught such a strange humor, and such severe maxims to those that are Married, will You at least not grant something more mild to those that are to Marry; and will You not let them have something more of Indulgence for those whom we may call true Lovers. If a Young Lady answered the Count must love a man, it must be those with whom she hopeth to be Married, and then I should not condemn her although she showed him some tokens of esteem. Nevertheless I would have it be with so much reservedness, that her Vertue might find nothing wherewith to reproach her heart: I will assure You a Lady cannot be too cautious upon this Article, and that the men have now so much presumption of themselves, and are so much accustomed to promise them­selves all from their own merit, that the least favour flattereth them, and maketh them with­draw from their duty. The Count interrup­ted, the Abbot seemeth to be Feed by the VVomen to speak against the Men, as was Monsieur d'Armenton the other day to tel un­truths in favour of these Fair-ones: I thought [Page 189] said the Marchioness, that Mr. Abbot had no more to say against us; but now his desire to be chastised is come again. Courage Sir ad­ded she in smiling, the Brave Ones like You are not amazed at stripes; You used me too illy (said she Abbot) the first time for me to dare to adventure any more: But however, were it necessary for me to expose my Life for the Truths sake I would maintain it well that there hath been nothing said on Your behalf in all there hath hitherto been spoken. Stay replied the same Lady to him til Monsieur d'Armenton be in a humor to answer You, for I believe he is preparing notwithstanding he hath been so long silent: I Madam answered her d'Armenton, I swear I have not such a thought, because that all that the Count hath spoken I find so just and reasonable, that they must be Void of Sense who are not for him, and who dare to contradict him. For my part replyed the Count, I expose here neither par­ty, and I only speak what belongeth to Rea­son, and a good custom against abuse and salfe appearances: But to return where I was, there are I know not how many VVomen who desire nothing more than to be esteemed hand­some, to have at their Train a multitude of Lovers of which they make a Trophy, and who serve as a Triumph to their Beauty; they employ all meanes for these Conquests, and make no difficulty to make advancements to [Page 190] their ruine; and these proceedings contribute to satisfie their Vanity, they stray from that modesty and bashfulness to which their Sex engageth them, they enoure certain discour­ses, they permit some languishing Glances in sweetly closing the eye-sid, and keeping it half shut, by which they think that sweetness must enchant all those that dare to behold them; in a word, they are knowing in the art we call Gossiping; but these are weaknesses unworthy those VVomen we speak of. It is true also that I am not for thosenice ones, who are more than Savages and who bring their Vertue even to a point of delicacy, that for the least word they will discountenance people: I think there is a Medium to be kept, and which I would counsel an understanding VVoman to follow. I say that a Ladie; merit is much greater, when the Conquests she maketh are meerly due to her own Vertue, and when the good Behaviour and Grace she hath in all her actions, draweth hearts to her. Love is much more solid when it is grounded upon esteem, than when it is upheld by Beauty alone: Esteem may ever continue, and Beauty fadeth, and a Lover who is tyed to particular Features is subject to very many accidents and cannot Love but in Fear, whereas he that suffereth himself to be enclined to Vertue, loveth without molesiati­on, and ceaseth not to love till death; a man who shall love a Lady as I say will be satisfied [Page 191] with the least regard he receiveth from her: A simple civility shall in his mind pass for a con­siderable favour: I know not said the Baron who these men are who think their services well requited in so small a matter; and I know not said d'Arignan whether there are many VVomen in the world so good House-wives of their Favours: I believe answered the Countess d'Ermond, that You see none here who give You not a very true Example. I a­vow said the cavaleer, that what the Count said is not so extraordinary, but some of it is practised by many VVomen: But it is also true, that he is something scrupulous in cer­tain matters, and that there is even injustice in it, not to permit a Mistress to give some man­ner of Hope to a poor Lover that shall lan­guish for her, that one day at least he may be Loved. I have seen VVomen added he, whom Beauty rendred them perhaps something too proud, who at the only words of Love would seem to be extreamly angry, but in the end, these Obstinate Beauties have if not submit­ted, at least grown very mild, and the services, importunities, sighs, and tears have worked so upon them that they have also taken delight to love such a one were the most rigorous person in the world, that could resist at the sight of a languishing Lover whom she sees upon his knees to her: A heart though Obstinate, is not insensible, and it is a difficult thing to escape [Page 192] loving when one is perswaded of a persons merit, there is nothing sometimes that in, en­dreth truer Love than Obstinacy when Over­come, and those Hearts which are the diffi­cultest to win, are those which are most mo­ved: You imagine said the Marchioness to him every one to be like your Religious La­dies. Not so answered her the Cavaleer: but you will confess that if all VVomen were as the Count would make them, they would not bevery amiable, and very few wne men would love them. Perhaps said the Count to him, that all people would not be of your Opinion as You are not of mine; but however if You took notice, I said not that a Mistress should bring a poor Lover to despair, I am not for such Barbarous Counsels, I avoid Extremities in all things, and my Opinion in this was, that a Lady ought to grant no other than a tender Friendship and Esteem, and it is with this a Gentleman may rest satisfied from such a La­dy I spoke of. It is true continued he, that in Love the Pallates are as different as there are difference in Beauties, and that one cannot Regulate all Lovers to one and the same point; there are of them who seeing a Lady of a humor something serious, and who is accustomed not to do any thing but what seemeth very civil, will be taken with a certain respect for her, that they scarcely dare bring their desires to love; they will rather love ano­ther, [Page 193] whose languishings, words, and glances may give them leave to hope. I also know others who care little for the Artifices, and all the outward appearances of certain Beauties who ignorize nothing of Gallantry, they will sooner engage themselves to a Fair-one whose humor seemeth full of sincerity, and who they find without art and fashion, I mean without being too witty; they will love that simplicity which shall cause her to utter her thoughts in matters as they are, there are yet lovers of a character much different from these who would pass for ingenious people, and who vainly believe that in Love as in all things else, the glory of a Conquest consisteth in the difficulty and resistance; they are perswa­ded that there is no Victory more sweet than to overcome that which others have found in­accessible; they will apply themselves to Beauty, whose looks, words, and proud Be­haviour, menace nothing but Rigours; as if there were no advantage more glorious than to reduce a proud heart to love. These same men will sometimes love certain Women that use a thousand Artifices, and who are of­ten-times more difficult to vanquish, than those who are austere by profession; they try yet others whose disdainful humour with few words, and some smiles, seemeth to despise the whole Universe, and with whom it is a crime to dare only to behold them. I have seen a­nother [Page 194] kind of Lovers who were for the Wo­men-gallants, and of great Conversation, for those who would show them fair play, and whom nothing could shake; in a word, who love facility, and the VVomen that are necessa­ry: But when an understanding Lady shall miss of all these sorts of Lovers, I'll not think her unfortunate. I know very well that those who are already endued with Vertue, and love Discretion, desire not such rediculous ones; there are for them enough that seek merit as well as beauty, who serve the Graces of the mind as well as those of the body, and who can love in a much more solid manner than the others; these are Lovers who ever give testimonies of a passion as respectful as Violent, and think their service well requited with a small affection, which a Mistress of the humor I have described shall testifie; they would not require a publick declaration from her, nor any favour which might touch the rules of Civility. Confess said d'Arignan that there is much Tyranny in this Civility: [...] must make this Sex close their Eyes for servi­ces, respects, signs, and for tears; in fine for all that a Lover can do, it would be the terriblest thing in the world, and such an Ingratitude was never heard of before: You would then said the Countess d'Ermond to him have as much of Complacency on our side, as there is Love on Yours; if it be true that Love is [Page 195] the cause of your sighing and weeping; what do You think said she, that when a Lady hath seen in the Cavaleers eyes that he hath a ten­derness for her, that she is Obliged to declare to him what she hath for him, is it not e­nough that she separateth him from others? that she heareth his sighs, and explaineth them as she ought? that she loveth to see her self loved? that she also pittieth and bewaileth him, and in fine, that she perhaps desireth what he desireth? without coming to what is too difficult to do, and too dangerous for a Lady to tell her sufferings in that case. It is true said the Abbot in smiling, that it would be a very sensible recompence, and that the pleasure would be g [...]eat to be made happy in that manner. By your leave Madam, I pray tell me what sweetness one can suck from a thing that one is ignorant of; and how a Lo­ver shall know if he possesseth the happiness he hath so much hoped for, and for which he hath done so much service; if his Mistress ne­ver saith any thing to him, and if he knoweth not in what manner he is seated in her mind, for my part I should almost as soon love to be hated; and I conclude that there is a necessity in Love to declare their minds on both sides: Nevertheless with this Order, that the men are to begin, but the VVomen must second them. If any Body be so nice as to think it a thing so very troublesome as to say [I love You] as the Countess d'Ermond would make [Page 196] us believe, let her at least manifest to her Lover sufficient tokens to make him under­stand the love she hath for him, so that accor­ding to Mr. Abbot replied the same Countess, things must be equally poised, and there must be no more difficulty on our part than there is on yours; in truth You show your self but a novice in Love-matters. Mr. Abbot said the Cavaleer to her hath not so little reason as you think, and if You did what he hath said, and that on your parts you would not seem so insensible as you do, there would per­haps be more sweetness in lise than there is found, Love would give a tast of his pleasures to both Sexes, we should not know the tor­ments, and the men would be delivered from an infinity of Evils which they endure for your sakes: These Gentlemen said the Dut­chess speak for themselves; and we must not think it strange that they give us counsels so little reasonable; however I would know the opinion of d'Armenton, for though he be inte [...]essed in the matter, I doubt not but he will speak otherwise. I believe answered her d'Armenton, that there would assuredly be much sweetness in Love if the Ladies were a little indulgent, and if they would pass over some ce [...]tain considerations, and submit to our first sighs, since in effect it is enough to be loved as one loveth, to abstain from being unhappy in Love, Modesty, certain Observati­ons, and I know not what other scruples of [Page 197] the Ladies causeth our sorrows, maketh us [...] ­ment, from which we should be delivered were it the custome among them to free us from these powerful Obstacles when they see themselves loved. But to speak the truth, these delights and pleasures would fade, and there are many that would not taste them, if Love made us not to suffer. It is from these cruel effects which this passion produceth in the Soul of a Lover, that which pricketh us, and maketh us concerned, and in a word, it is a seasoning of the pleasure; we common­ly esteem but little a thing that costeth us no­thing, and a happiness which we possess in quiet, we forsake it, and leave it without grief, for who will take it? It is commonly the pain that giveth the price to things, it is difficulty which heateth our desires, and we should have but cold ones, and consequently small plea­sures should we take no pains, and suffer a lit­tle to possess what we desire. A Lover who is a Gentleman, and who loveth as he ought, shall find more glory and more satisfaction in the Conquest of a heart that hath held out long, than in the possession of another that is vanquished with the first A [...]tack, the paines it shall have cost him which ha [...]h made so much resistance, wil make him esteem it Infinitely, his love and his pleasure will continue the longer, he will never be cloyed, and will alwayes fear to lose what he hath obtained with nothing [Page 198] but a multitude of troubles. Love is no more love if we disarm him, and take away his arrows. A man cannot be termed Lover ex­cept he su [...]ereth; and I say (answered the Ca­valeer) that this mixture of bitters with sweets spoileth the pleasure of Love, and that Love is so wel love without them, that it ought to produce nothing but sweetness; so that if I was capable of establishing Laws, I would con­demn these Cruel and Ingrateful Ones to the same place of Exile where you have sent the false Lovers. The Ladies have not a Heart different from Ours, they are not Insensible, and though our Sex cannot make show of so much passion and tenderness as this, they nevertheless do not forbear to have as we have, or to be capable as we are. Why all these Rigours then? why this affected severity? and why not to manifest their desires sometimes as much as we? would it not be better that there were none but happy Lovers and sensible Mistresses, that tenderness governed every where, that nothing was done but in Love, and that it were the chief of all things, as by the Law of Nature it ought: Can one doubt that a Gentlewoman would not be glad to see her self loved by an accomplished Gen­tleman, and more if she loved him, and gave way to her Inclination to act; and would she not much more if she rendred him happy, and could say that she wished it? wherefore de [Page 199] Armenton you must confess that you are not in the right, and that VVomen being sensible of love, joy, and grief, as of all other passions, do themselves a most horrible Injustice to tor­ment themselves to cause our trouble, and that they should follow other Laws than those the Count hath prescribed them. VVhatsoever you can say replied the Dutchess, we are Obliged to the Count for having taught the VVomen an honest method of loving, and to render the thing alike; some Lady in the Company should show the same to the men. I believe Ma­dam answered her the Baron, it is the Women only must be taught the art to Love, because there are but few that know it; they esteem it a point of Honour to be marble-hearted, and the Count authorizeth them in these Opini­nions; but for the men, they know but too well how to love, and the beauty of VVomen is a great Master to teach them, one thing they should show us is the manner to make them love us. VVell let us see then said Madam de Armand to him what you can say upon it, You who have been so succesful in two or three places wherein You have continued: You would perhaps Madam answered her the Baron make me believe that I have not been unhappy in Love, to engage me to tell You what I desire to know, and that the Evils I have suffered make me discern that I am alto­gether Ignorant of it. I am none of those [Page 200] who convert all into mildness, far from that, I am of those sort of people to whom a little evill spoileth all the Fortune in the world; Judge then if it be easie to be perswaded to what You say; I that in all my Life have en­joyed so little felicity and so many Evils to endure; so it is those Gentlemen do said the Countess d'Ancire that would go for discreet, and give a good Opinion of their Carriage. But happy or unhappy, You shall however tell us which is the shortest way a Gentleman can take to cause himself to be loved by a Lady: Reason would replyed the Baron, that in ser­ving Ladies we should obtain their good Opi­nions: But we must first know of themselves after what manner they desire to be served, to the end we may Oblige them accordingly, for some will after one manner, and others after a­nother; and there are some that desire things so particular, that a man would be very much troubled to Divine, and that they sometimes know not themselves. It is for this Reason added he, in regarding the Marchioness of Sindal, that You must do it, who knoweth all things that can please the persons of Your Sex. It is You I say that must take upon You the trouble to tell us the manner of serving Ladies to Ones advantage. It would be a les­son of great profit for men, and those of the Company would be particularly Obliged to You for it. You may Your self replied the [Page 201] Marchioness still take this care, for You know well enough the cautions that must be obser­ved. Nevertheless since You desire it, I will tell You that generally with all the world he that desires to be loved must love; and that this quality sufficeth a gallant Gentleman to keep himself from being hated by his Mistress. Now if without making You blush continued she in smiling, I may say in Your presence that You have passed for one aimable enough; and I will add further, that You would be lo­ved more if You did not love in so many pla­ces, for that cannot be called Love, Rivers di­vided into so many places do at length become small Brooks: a heart divided among so many persons, cannot have much Love for one only Object: In the mean time You send out your complaints, and give Your self over to weeping, and to reproaches against most of those VVomen that You have served, and that have known you better than the others, as if they were Obliged to love. You better than You can do; there are some that You have too well perswaded not quite to forsake You, I pit­ty them, especially one of my acquaintance, and who to act her part better, would have You seemingly Court a Lady her Neighbour; but I know not who would be the mostabused: If it should happen that You became really in Love with this Neighbour, for without spea­king false, she is too Fair to serve for a pre­tence; [Page 202] what You say there Madam (replied the Baron) is the unjustest thing in the world, and it would be no great trouble to me to let you see the contrary: If I might be believed when I speak the truth, it is a terrible thing for a man when the VVomen are once set to his disadvantage: I do all I can to please the per­son of whom the Marchioness speaketh, I spare neither care nor paines, I render her more Vi­sits than ever I did to any in this world be­fore, I love her more than one can love, and yet you will have it only a pretene, I believe unless I dyed for her I should not be believed: I may well complain—your Complaints them­selves interrupted the Marchioness, make it appear that there is Artifice in your procee­ding, or at least that You love her but little, since You desire of her what she owuld not have You, against the first law of Love which Ordaineth that we must not desire but what the person desireth whom we love. Alas said the Baron, I desire but too well what she desireth, and if I complain, it is of her Cru­elty, and that she will not grant me that I de­sire of her; after which I am well grounded to believe abcording to the Law you say, that she loveth me not: It belongeth to him replied the Marchiones that beginneth to love first, to be al­so the first to desire to please and accomodate himselfe wholly to the humor of the person, he condereth he must govern himself to please her [Page 203] will, and make his desires to be the slaves of hers, his Soul it self ought to Obey her in all things, and never to be transformed into any thing but her if it were possible, and make it his last Felicity: True Lovers ought to do thus. My felicity replied the Baron, would doubtless be to have one will to be mistress of her heart and mine: but how shall this accord be made if she never doth any thing for me, while I do all things for her; if she doth not something slacken this great severity to give me at least some hope. The Baron was there when a Page came to tell the Dutchess that there was a great company of Persons of Qua­lity newly arrived; for which reason the Cir­cle was broke up, and this Question went no farther, that they might follow the Dutchess who went before to meet those that came to Visit her.

The rest of the Evening passed in indiffe­rent discourses, or in small matters without any particular Enter tainment, except the ensu­ing Song which Madamoiselle d'Armand gave the Company.

CHAP. VI.

THe Sixth day the Dutchess gave the Com­pany an Entertainment, which I cannot relate here without making a long digression of something very Noble. But I believe it is better not to trouble the Readers patience, (for nothing troubleth it more than digressi­ons) that I say only in passing that they had a Ball and a Play, and towards the Evening marvellous artificial Fire-works; after which they returned to form the Circle, and to pro­pose new Questions.

Madamoiselle d'Armand addressed her self first to d'Arignan to make the breach for a no­ble conversation and he thus began.

I remember said, he, that the Count hath in­structed the Ladies how to receive a Declara­tion of Love, but to body hath yet said in what manner it must be done, for in [...]ine ad­ded he, what must we hope from the fidelities, cares, and services which we do to these Fair­o [...]es if they know not upon what design we do them: There are many things answered Madamoiselle d'Armand that speak but too much what a man feels when he is in Love, e­ven to silence; all things speak in Love; that is certain replied d'Arignan: But how many Mistresses are there that seem blind to all the [Page 208] respects which the Lovers have for them, and show them, to all that sighes may make them understand; so that all these advancements being without effect, or at least without ex­change, a miserable Lover is at length con­strained to complain, and from Complaint to pass to a Declaration. I would then desire some body to learn me the secret (if there be any one) to explain ones self to a Mistress, without going in danger to displease her. Me­thinks proceeded he, that it would very well agree with Madamoiselle d'Armand to do it: If she would have the goodness to tell us any thing, as I am not in a humor answered this Lady to receive a Declaration of this nature in what manner soever, I cannot tell You any, but would displease me. I will truly tell you that to be loved or not to be loved, is not so indifferent to me, but I could desire it; it is a desire too natural to our Sex; but I would if it were possible for me very much to hinder a man from entertaining me of his Love, if through hazard he had any for me, so much re­lating to me; and for the rest, I would ever counsel a friend not to speak till the last extre­mity, and to have done all things before he cometh to these words (I love You) and it must also be done with so much discretion and so properly, that he must consider of it often before he saith it. If it be so troublesome a thing said the Abbot smiling to say that one [Page 209] loveth, it must be in writing on the contrary replied Madamoiselle d'Armand to him; if he be a man that is discreet, and understandeth Heroical Gallantry, he will not use this means, You say there is less trouble in it, but there is also more danger in it; and one is rarely suc­cesful because the liberty is greater, and that a Lady much sooner excuseth a word escaped from ones mouth, than what is writ to her. I know not replied the Baron, but if I be not deceived, whatever grimaces these Ladies make to us, when we declare to them the passi­on we have for them, since according to the confession of Madamoiselle d'Armond her self they are glad to be loved, & I believe not in the end that they will be displeased with one for telling it to them: In truth You are deceived replyed the Marchioness to him, and the most part of Lovers do but ill to trust to that Opi­nion: What must they do then replied the Duke on a sudden if it be me You ask said the same Lady to him, I will tell You my mind. A Lover who hath a desire to proceed to a Decla­ration, ought to do it with a most respectful Carriage, and in the same moment so discreet­ly, that his words may insensibly dispose the mind of his Mistress favourably to receive what he will say to her, and that they may have a double meaning by which meanes he may deliver himself from trouble, if he seeth her in a humor to give him attention, for else it [Page 210] were to ruine him; a Lady that had been ac­customed to live familiarly with him, and to treat him like a friend of esteem and tender­ness, would be no more so, but very reserved as soon as he hath declared himself her Lover, and would deprive him of all the civil friend­ship which she had granted him before, by reason of the tenderness she had for him; it is because of this, that those Lovers who are thus carried away by their passion scarce ever have good success, because that the VVomen seeke above all things to have respect showed them, and they think that to make a publick declaration of Love to them, is to bereave them of what is their due. I know no dis­creet VVoman at least but would be Offended at it, although she might have a strong incli­nation for him that might speak to her of his love. It is certain added the Countess d'An­cyre, that we shali see no understanding VVo­man that would not blush upon a like occasion. That is true replied d'Arignan; but I pray tell me by what motion is it they blush, for I ima­gine it is not alwaies for anger: However it is replied the Marchioness, smiling at the de­mand of d'Arignan, it is my Opinion that a Gentleman should make his actions and his sighs speak before he speaketh himself; there are many said d'Armenton as hath already been said, that contribute to the revealing of a Lo­vers designs and inclination; a sigh and a ser­vice [Page 211] rendred in due season a small fear, some respects on a certain occasion; all these things in their proper season are oftentimes more ef­fectual, and better understood than the smoo­thest Rhetorick in the world; there is no bo­dy but may apprehend the Eyes meaning, those are the faithful Messengers that bring the news of what passeth in the heart, and they have quite another power than the tongue; inso­much that they discover the most hidden thoughts, and penetrate sometimes even to the heart of the persons loved, and cause in them the same ardour with which they them­selves are inflamed: Do you believe that a Mistress how deaf so ever she seemeth, doth not understand what the eyes tell her; when she seeth how pittifully they turn towards her, how they fix tpon hers, as if they were made fast to them, and turn away again as if they were dazled: It is true it is good to Husband this Language, and to beware the discovering ones passion to those from whom it should be the most concealed. We seldome love without Jealoutie, or without a Rival, who continually observes the motion of these innocent Interpreters, especially from persons who are most to be suspected: A Lover hath but two Eyes, and a Jealous Husband hath four, he seeth before and behind; for which reason a Judicious man ought to govern him­self wisely, and to behave himself according [Page 212] to time and place, and when he hath cause to fear to deprive himself of so sweet a pleasure; the more secretly a Love is kept (I mean of these Loves which are not permitted, and which are now notwithstanding very much A­lamode) the sweeter it is: and we know to how many evil Consequences the least inclina­tion is subject to when it is revealed; and I said the Cavaleer I believe that the great se­cret is not to make it so much a mistery. We believe that an inclination doth nor proceed so far, that they need to give themselves the trouble to conceal it; and the world is now so much upon one matter, that they take the most amorous things for simple Gallantry, when they are done in company; whereas they that take the other part are in continual Alarms, because indeed the least appearance to them is a deaths wound; they imagine very often that there is more than they see, and more than there is, and it is a pleasure to them to tell it, because they believe it not to be known. How many Women are there who live with a Familiarity, without example with their Gallants, even before their Husbands, who perhaps would suspect all things if they did o­therwise. I know one whose Husband is moe jealous than any man, who could never endure that any one saw her except one of my friends, because she treateth him familiarly before his face, and yet it is the only One that ever hath [Page 213] obtained the good-will of this Lady: These things happen seldom replied d'Armenton, and for my part I hold that the surest way is to love in private, and that one cannot be too cautious before those that are interessed. We must dissemble, say that we least think of, and use constraint constantly, or else we may be in danger to lose all. I believe replyed de Arignan, that these maxims are good, but so difficult to Observe, that they are almost im­possible for a passionate Lover: We have not alwayes an occasion to find a Mistress without a witness, and there are some that are never to be seen but in company; and if we must always practice what you say, we run the danger of being long before we do our business, and ne­ver to receive content. We must love in tran­quility that it may not appear a little, when we see the person we love. Those that know how to love as they should do replyed de Armenton, find Expedients for all things, and meanes to make them to be understood, al­though they have little Intelligence, without being understood by others, and without a­muzing me to particularize all those small se­crets to you, since you cannot have been in love, for not to have known much your self, I will only tell you what hapned a few dayes since in a company where I was; two Lovers whom the jealousie of a Husband did for some time hinder them from seeing each other, ha­ving [Page 214] in an assembly entertained each other most tenderly by the side of a Table, and which seemed most indifferent; there was none but I in the whole company that did suspect their discourse to be of Love; they were to expect as to use some indifferent matter to entertain each other aloud before the company, and from time to time when they talked of the most in­ward other softly: And this scene continued above two hours without seeming to look one on a­nother, and as persons that had the least ac­quaintance together; there are yet many other pleasant wayes upon which time, places, and the persons must give a Discreet Lover coun­sel, for it would be impossible to form certain Rules. In truth the matter is too large re­plyed the Baron, & it is love that must instruct us in that, he who is the Father of Inventions, and who alwayes favoureth a Lover when he hath recourse to him: But the thing which I would at present know, and which is not less important in Gallantry than it is to be discreet in publick, and to love in private: It is the manner how to conserve our selves in our Mi­stresses favour, for it is the chiefest thing we fail in, and of many Lovers who can perfectly gain the esteem of a Lady; I see but very few that know how to conserve it, which is a great defect, and which causeth us to enjoy the hap­piness to be loved, when we love but a little [Page 215] time: I believe that after so many pretty mat­ters as hath been proposed, this here may de­serve the pains of a continued conversation. It is this that doth evidence the mens inconstancy: I am certain at least that we often-times need to seek no other cause than their unquiet spi­rit, which is weary of a Happiness as soon as they possess it, whatever trouble it hath cost them to Obtain it: From thence you may judge whether the Women have no reason not to engage themselves so far in Love, and never to submit if they can avoid it: We may also replyed the Cavaleer accuse the Women of Inconstancy, but that is not the thing, and I believe that the same meanes that are used to obtain the Ladies good wills, may al­so serve to maintain us in them, and the great secret in this is to endeavour alwayes to please them, and not to do any thing that may in any wise Offend them. It is no less difficult added d'Armenton to give Lessons for this article than for the other, because there are so many cautions to observe, and so many Errors we are subject to commit, that there are many things to be examined be­fore we come to the principal: The greatest Lovers are commonly those that commit the most faults, because they are blinded by their passion, and because that Love and Reason sel­dom accompany each other: If they are jea­lous, they give way to a thousand Follies, they [Page 216] are not in the least circumspect they speak ill of their Rivals, they offend the person they love a hundred wayes, they bring upon her a thousand misfortunes, and endeavour to ruine her if they can; they are in love, and they be­lieve they have nothing to answer, be it to whom it will in their going astray; the shadow of a man near their Mistress frighteth them, they cannot endure to let her see any body, even not in their presence: If she whis­pereth to any one, those are alarums which de­prive them of their Senses; if they turn their Eyes towards their Rivals, it is a Crime inex­cusable, and in fine they put a double sense to every word she saith. of which there is al­waies some one which they interpret to be in favour of those they fear. But what are the fruits of all these Extravagancies? they serve but to displease the mind of this Fair-one, who is at length weary of so unjust and insuppor­table a proceeding; there is nothing the Wo­men hate more than servitude, their ambition ever extendeth to command over those whom they by Natures right should Obey; and all their aim is to be disburthened of that trou­blesome Yoak which Nature hath imposed up­on them: If they cultivate their Beauty, it is but to obtain adoration; If they Love, it is but to make their Masters become their slaves; but when these slaves will retake their first au­thority, and play the Masters, then is it their [Page 217] displeasure flameth, and that they despise to see themselves misused by people that had vowed them an eternal Servitude, causeth them to seek revenge; the greatest part of Lovers lose their Mistresses in this manner. There are yet another sort who are not so extrava­gant, but by a trick of vain fore-sight render themselves unhappy, and help forward the af­fairs of those whom they would destroy; they will tell a Mistress that such a one doth love her to Oblige her to avoid him; they will entreat her not to be in his company alone, and not to give him occasion to engage him­self any further; and I remember something to this effect which I heard not very long since touching a Lover of this sort who made some reproaches to his Mistress near to this purpose; why Madam said he to her, will you seem thus obstinate as to tell me he loveth You not? do not I see it? doth he not partake of all your counsels? doth he not affect to be in Your presence? doth he not sigh so soon as you cast a look upon him? in fine, doth he not die for You? this person to whom he spoke, who was truly innocent, and who had obser­ved none of these things becoming for the future more curious, found indeed that she was loved, and the success of these reproa­ches was, that she loved also, which she per­haps had not done if this jealous one had not taken the trouble to give her notice, and [Page 218] forbid her, thus it is that these people through a strange Imprudence are Authors of all the Evill that fall upon them; I have seen yet o­thers who have thought to make their Love secure by speaking ill of their Rivals, and which it is that a VVoman seldom believeth so soon as she knoweth the design: On the con­trary, as she is perswaded that it proceedeth from an effect of Jealousie, she doth but laugh at it, and will sometimes take the part of him Interessed; in this I will confess my weakness answered the Baron to that, I am not capable of speaking well of my Rivals, and when I have an opportunity to do them harm, I can scarce forbear it: I would know some more civil manner of ruining them. You know the Proverb replied the Count, which saith that when an Adversary is in the water up to the middle, You must give him your Hand to help him out; but when he is in up to the Chin, You must set your foot on his head and drown him quite. There are many People that do the same with their Rivals, and until they find a fair Occasion to ruine them quite, they dissemble and live well with them, but so soon as they see them upon the brink of the Precipice, they give them the last push to throw them down. I say proceeded he what is done sometimes, and not what I would counsel any one to do; for all these proceedings are some thing unworthy of a Gentleman, and I would [Page 219] have a lover bear it above his Rivals by means of his merit and services; it is easie for one that hath wit, and when a Mistress knoweth the world, to cause her to observe the disse­rence there is between man and man, love and love, service and service. Most Lovers ruine themselves, without it be necessary for a Ri­val to work their ruine: There are some who full of Vanity, to give their Mistresses a good Opnion of them, will boast of some Favours to her, which they perhaps never received. Others there are, who on the contrary will make as if they were misfortunate, and will assure one that they have never obtained any Love; as if it were no prejudice to them to be taxed of want of merit: But what do you think of those that daily tell their Mistresses that their Rivals are much happier than they, and that they reproach her, that she treateth them best? I believe it is rather a meanes to serve ones Rival, than not to do it: There are yet a thousand Rencounters in which many Lovers are undone, who have not the art of governing themselves in their Felicity; and if Love be a Sea as they say, we must confess that Indiscretion especially is a shelf on which the greatest part of these Gentle-men-sighers suffer shipwrack; He that desireth to please in Love, ought to know how to be respectful and discreet: and he that will rule must be silent. It is strange said the Marchioness (that [Page 220] discretion being the principallest quality a Lo­ver ought to be endued with) that there should be so few that make use of it, and that this secret must alwayes be recommended to the men. I avow answered the Baron to her, to our confusion, that it is the most essential Vertue in Love, and which nevertheless we consider the least: There are very few men that have power to keep a Love secret, and were there not often many VVomen that of­ten oblige us to this weakness, I know not how we could excuse our selves: it would be a very delightful matter replied Madam d'Eyrac for some of us to relate why there are so few men discreet: It shall be d'Armenton said the Abbot, for he is much enclined to speak for you against the men, and here is a subject will cost him little. It shall be rather You replyed Madamoiselle d'Armond, for You have been long silent, and we will see a little, if after you have placed the Women so much beneath the men, You can retire the men from so naughty a walk, to place them only opposite to the Women. I know too little answered the Abbot what belongeth to Love to know how to resolve. You how to keep an amarous mi­stery secret, and I will tell You no more up­on that than what I have read in Ovid. Ovid Sir, interrupted the Countess d'Ancyre, You quote to us a very pleasant Author, Is it not he that counselleth Lovers to feign themselves [Page 221] in drink when they are with their Mistresses, that all the liberties they take with them may the more easily be excused; and in another place he proposeth a fine manner of declaring Love; he saith that if we find an Opportuni­ty to be with our Mistress at any Banquet, we must when we hold the glass in our hand, dip our finger in the Wine, and afterwards upon the Table write down our Love for her; I heard these from a Gentleman that had read Ovid very much, but would not imitate him. If this custome replyed the Abbot, seemeth now rediculous to You, it was not perhaps in the dayes of Ovid: It is because the men said d'Arignan are now more knowing in Love, and I believe that if it were possible for Ovid to rise again, he would cry up Max­im's which he would expose to the Publick, that would now sute with none but Serving-Maids. Let vs leave Ovid then said the Mar­chioness, and let us observe what the Abbot will tell us upon the Question proposed, since You will not answered the Abbot let me use this Author, I must tell You what I my self conceive upon this matter: First I believe that diseretion consisteth in avoiding all things that may breed disturbance, and make a noise; and on the other side beware, that in endeavouring to be too discreet, You be not at all: There are some Lovers who will not make use of a­ny one in their Loves out of fear of trusting a [Page 222] secret with any one that may deceive them: But in all the Mysteries of this Nature a confi­dent is so necessary, that You cannot be with­out; a man in Love is daily pressed with his passion, he is ever desirous to speak, write to, or see his Mistress, and to ease this eager­ness which bereaveth him of his repose; He standeth often in need of a person that is of his Intelligence, and endeavouring to do all, we ruine and destroy all: This Passion which transporteth us, and whose aim is only at sa­tisfaction, is not accustomed to be over-cau­tious, it looks neither to the right nor to the lest, but only before it, and so that there be not any thing to hinder her course, it seemeth not concerned at those that follow it by sight: There is nothing the world taketh so much paines in, than to discover the proceedings of an Inclination; they are all curious to know the secret of an Intrigue, and as soon as they discover the glimps of any thing, they will pe­netrate to the bottom: It is but suspecting a a man in Love with a woman, to have a desire to know the truth of what passeth, a he or she confident of whose fidelity one is assu­red, save a Lover from this danger, they ma­nage a business better than he, they proceed with more care, and besides their supplying with Counsels, and with the Favour they have with a Mistress; they help many failings which a Lover would have committed: I ex­tend [Page 223] a little upon this matter, for that there are many people who think themselves very expert in Love, and who make it one of their most principal points in discretion, not to let any one know of their Intrigue, and to make use of no body, but to do all things by themselves: In the mean time You see that these nice spirits abuse themselves, so grosly I say, that it is most certain that an assured con­fident is the most Important matter in an amo­rous commerce. To this let us add the pleasure there is in telling a faithful friend the sweets one hath tasted with a Mistress, the charms of that amiable Creature, the joy one hath to love her, for these are certain things which lie heavy upon the heart of a Lover when he hath not the satisfaction to tell it to some Body. Do You not Observe said the Dutchess Interrup­ting him, how the Abbot will prove himself unskulful in Love-affairs; however all that he hath sayd even hitherto, is a subtil Gallantry. I know not replied the Countess d'Ermand, whither all that he hath hitherto said be so gallant, but I find it not very near the mat­ter: The Question is to know the Reason why the men are so Indiscreet? and the Cautions that are to be Observed to practice this Ver­tue, and he goeth and telleth us the necessity there is to have a Confident, as if that had a­ny Analogy with discretion: Yes Madam re­plied the Abbot to her, assnredly it hath; and [Page 224] You shall see if You will grant me that Favour to hear me, that I wander not so much from my Subject, I would bring the matter to the actions, which they should not do publickly; for besides that, something of it hath already been said: It were needless to give Lessons for defaults, in which there are none but block-heads, and people full of Vanity that can fall into them. I chose rather to use a subject something more delicate, and to make it appear that that was not to be discreet to desire to be too much; and that a man cannot be accused of Indiscretion that confides his Se­cret in a Friend who can serve him in that af­fair; and because of that, I have let You see of what Importance a Consident was: This is well justified said the Dutchess, and although the Abbot did not directly answer the Questi­on proposed, I find that what we Treat of is not too far from the matter; That to declare that not only one may, but must have a Con­fident in Love. We must have been in Love (proceeded the Abbot) to know how many oc­casions are fit for afriend as I say in an Intrigue of Affection and the necessity there is to have one to whom one might communicate all things. The Abbot said the Cavaleer will at length perswade us maugre him, that he hath been in Love; for my part I am of his Opini­on, and I hold that is the safest way of loving to make use of a third person, and that we [Page 225] are less subject to sin against discretion. A Confident added the Baron doth doubtless much contribute to manage a Love-affair dis­creetly: But to speak truth, the Women are often the cause themselves, (as I have already said) of the faults which we commit against that Vertue, their evil conduct rendreth us Indis­creet, some for being too cruel, others by a certain ambition which they have to seek daily to make new Conquests, and to desire the whole Universe to love them; those who deck themselves with cruelty, and who think they do themselves honour by being Insensi­ble, are constrained to love in the end, and they Imagine it so much Glory to see people suffer for their sakes, that they would think they should ruine all if they lesned any thing of their rigor; they look upon those paines, those restless minutes, and all those Torments in which their Lovers live as Infallible tokens that they are beautiful, and they Triumph in that it dependeth upon them to render men happy or miserable; the ambitious ones feed themselves with rumour, and make their hap­piness consist in the noise which the Croud of their Adorers make; they keep an account, and judge of the power of their Charmes by the quantity of their Lovers. It is easie to see that these two Characters of VVomen are capable of making us commit many Indiscre­tions, excepting the danger they run of ever [Page 226] meeting this conduct from true Lovers; some as much in love as they are, do in the end grow weary of suffering, and pass from one extremity to another, when they will wholly oppress them. Others think it a trouble to divide a happiness amongst so many Rivals, which they thought they alone had well me­rited. There is yet replied the Cavaleer, a sort of women who Oblige the men to be no less Indiscreet than the others, and these are those who having many admirers, give them all hopes of being loved, and take delight to breed alwayes some jealousie among them, they know how to detain those that are ready to escape them, and to suppress the vanity of those that dare promise themselves too much from them, and who out too much confidence in the favours thry receive from them; they favour sometimes one and sometimes another, and out the heart of this with a glance with which they Oblige the other; in fine, these are Mistresses in Gossipping, and not in love. These are the springs of Hatred and Quarrels among Rivals, and these Fair-ones are thus the cause of many evil Consequences. We may make a long discourse against women said d'Arignan, if we would examine all the reasons they give us to destroy them. How many (without proceeding further) do we see of those who after a Lover hath manifested to them all the possible Tokens of an extream [Page 227] passion when they will have heard him, and when they have promised them that part in their heart which they could reasonably pre­tend to, begin when he least thinketh of it, and sindeth himself engaged not to revoak it to pretend difficulty, and to seem to doubt of his Inclinations, and make a pretence for no­thing, to begin all his cares and services afresh, as if he had yet done nothing; a Lover is well requited for the paines he hath taken by such a Mistress; he must needs be patient that despite doth not make him exceed the bounds of his duty. Thus indeed You see said the Abbot how the one half of Your gallant La­dies are the cause of their own misfortune, and how the Indiscretion of men is oftenest a cause of their Evil conduct; yes if we will believe You said the Marchioness; but it be­longeth to none but us to let You see that for one Imprudent woman, there are ten thousand Impertinent Ones; if we must give them their Name, it would be a long peice of work for us to undertake to tell You how many men there are of this sort. I believe answered her the Cavaleer, that there are but few of the kind You mention, but the VVomen have given them cause to be so. By your leave Sir, reply­ed the Countess d'Ancyre, is there any thing that can Oblige a man to be dishonest, or Im­prudent? The same things replied the Cava­leer go not always by the same name and there [Page 228] are Crimes which reason and justice authorize; I know Mistresses who sell their Favours too dear to content them only for having received them, we should think very often that we had paid too much for them, had we not the ho­nour of them by the pleasure: The Cavaleer smiled at these words, to which Madam d'Ey­rac answered that they should no more be Fa­vours if they could be bought, and that a Lover should not think himself honoured by them, when he had not obtained them by the power of his merit as much as by his services.

Here the Conversation ended; it had con­tinued longer if the artificial Fire-works had not wasted a part of the Evening: But however the ensuing Song was sung admira­ble well by Madamoiselle d'Armond at the re­quest of the Company.

It now being late, every one was very wil­ling to confine so delightful a day with a sweet Repose.

CHAP. VI.

The Seventh day, or rather the Seventh E­vening, since we must here end, and since it is the last Conversation with which I shall entertain the Reader, the Company met some­thing betimes in the Garden, where waiting for the Dutchess whom some affair had de­layed, they spent the time in dancing some Branlies round a Fountain, d'Armenton who was in an Age wherein Dancing is almost out of season, acquitted himself notwithanding so well, that we might assuredly say that Age is not the same with all the world; At this In­stant the Dutchess arrived, and although she had long known d'Armenton, she could not forbear smiling to see a man thus triumph in Dancing, who had passed fifty Years of his Age: By what I perceive said she, d'Armen­ton hath not forgot what he learned formerly, What Madam said he presently, do You ima­gine me so Old that I must not be permitted to be concerned in what You do now? I will not say that, answered him the Dutchess on the contrary I find that You act every thing so well that You undertake, that in truth a man like You may concern himself in all things; but this Expertness which You have is not so [Page 232] general, but that it may be true to say that Dancing like Love and Gallantry are not al­together diversions for persons of your Age, and I, I believe Madam replyed the same par­ty? that we are never more capable of the things You speak of, than in the Age wherein I am; and for Love, it belongeth to us to make use of it as we ought. You were a very Ingenious man said the Cavaleer to him, if You would take upon You the Trouble to make us understand what you there say, for in my Opinion it is a thing very difficult to maintain, and I believe there is no Body here but is against it, and but who would be glad to hear You discourse upon a matter so con­trary to the Opinion of all the world. Thus said the Lady Sindal, we have accidentally en­tred into a matter for a very pleasant Conver­sation. If You please Madam added she, in addressing her self to the Dutchess, this we will fix upon; the Evening is delightful, and the place wherein we are very pleasant, and me-thinks I see d'Armenton ready to relate to us something that is Gallant, to make us dis­cern that Gallantry is a Land wherein People that are endued with his Qualities, and with a wit so ready as his, may at all times enter; the Dutchess did not Oppose this designe, and the rest of the Company doing like the Dutchess the formed a Ring upon a green Bank, after which d'Armenton seeing them ready to give [Page 233] him attention, began in this manner.

I see well said (he smiling) that it is to justi­fie what I alwayes take so much paines to con­ceal, to desire to maintain that Love apper­taineth more to a man who exceedeth fifty, than to those who are not twenty or twenty one. But since I have undertaken it I will not recoil, I shall at least give You to understand, that though I am Old, Age is not such as the Vulgar believe it to be, and that it is without reason that they would deprive them of the pleasures of Love, that they know how to take and to relish them more happily than Youth: You must first give me leave if You please before any thing else, to make a small digression, and to tell You first what Love is, and in what that Felicity consisteth which Lovers find, and afterwards you will agree with me, that this passion doth not Illy suite with gray hairs, and that one must be no man at all not to be capable. Love then according to the Ancients, is a desire to enjoy beaury: and fince we desire nought but what we know, it must necessarily be that knowledg pre­cedeth desire, the eyes, reason, and the mind causeth us to know the happiness, and this knowledg produceth in us the desire to possess it; the Eyes discovereth, Reason choseth, the Mind judgeth of what the Eyes and Reason have done. Beauty though the most sensible thing in the world, is nevertheless the most [Page 234] difficult to know, it never appeareth with more charms than upon the face of a Woman; and Heaven who is marvellous in all the works it hath done, is in nothing so admirable as here; it is a work which bringeth men even to Idolatry, both Old and Young are dazled, e­very one desireth it, but desire it differently, because of the different knowledg they have of it. When this Beauty hapneth to strike the eyes of a Young man, she doth as soon van­quish him, and in seducing these two Innocent Interpreters by I know not what pleasure with which they are so enchanted, that they Introduce it even to the heart, which being no more cautious than the Eyes, suffereth it self to be caught in this sweet snare: I say much more it feeleth a certain Joy which transpor­teth it, and empoysons it self in a manner that it sighs for it that it is tormented with a daily desire. Oh the strange disorder! when a heart is cumbred with all these desires by which it suffereth it self to be lead, and which desires, being no less blind than the heart, cause it to make a thousand mistakes; it thinketh on nought but the Object that hath struck it, it seeketh and followeth it every where, not to be revenged on the harm it hath given it, but to unite it self wholly to it, and thinketh that in possessing of it, it shall be eased from the torment it suffereth. Nevertheless it decei­veth it self, and even the pleasure of this pos­session [Page 235] is a Lyar. It is a gross error wherein the most of these people fall that suffer them­selves to be blinded at the first glance of Beauty, to make the aim of their Love a bru­tal pleasure to satisfie themselves, which they have no sooner compassed, but they cease not only from having the same ardour, but pass even to disdain, & look upon him no otherwise but a loathing that which before was the Idol of their heart. It seemeth as though this de­sire repented for what it had done; that it is vexed it is deceived, that it believed that to be all a heart could desire; the heart who on his part acknowledgeth the fault it had commit­ted, seemeth also to reproach the Eyes of their blindness, to take a happiness in appearance for the true one, he is not satisfied in him­self; but Imagining the Felicity he promised to himself to be yet far distant hence, desires augment in him as if he possessed nothing, which maketh it clearly apear that that is not the true Felicity he seeketh, and that these Young Lovers have a way of loving which is not happy, or rather that they know not how to Love fince they are never satisfied, although they arrive to what they aspired; and this is it we may well term unhappiness, for there is both paine an dtrouble at the end as well as at the beginning of this Love. They cease neither complaints, sufferings, nor sighings, and even then when they believe themselves at [Page 236] the height of their desires, it is then they have more subject of desire, and that they find themselves unfortunate? It is a precipice in which this foolish ardour doth cast them, which cannot justly be termed Love; it is here where Youth Embarquing in foul weather pe­risheth; he is carried away with all sorts of winds, he followeth his desires, and never con­sulteth his passion: Reason is too weak with him to resist this Torrent: He permitteth him­self to be led away; every Guide is a Guide for him, and if he may be carried towards the Object he cherisheth; he forsaketh himself, and will follow even his own Enemies; he knoweth not so much as how to distinguish the true from the false, he is blind who ta­keth good for evil, and who feedeth himself with every thing which his will and desires will perswade him to, who being of them­selves Incapable of discerning any thing, can­not fail to render him miserable. You see then how those who are possessed with this blind passion (altogether contrary to the laws of Reason) do never find those solid pleasures in Love which those take whose riper Years hath learned them to know them. This being supposed (as it is most certain) I say that it hapneth otherwise to those Persons who are come to the age by me before-mentioned. This ardour which Time hath layed asleep in them, re-kindleth at the sight of a Beauty, for [Page 237] whom they breathe sighs which are guided by a choice that is reasonable, which detaineth them from wnadring; they approach her, and enjoy her without any confusion; their design is pure, and the effect of it is nought but Fe­licity; the bridle of Reason who reproveth the folly of the Senses, susiereth not it self to slacken into Repenrance, they have what they desire, and without any trouble they relish the pleasures they seek: A man I say arrived to those Years wherein I am (for I may well place my self here) and who is not transported with this violent ardour, beholdeth Beauty, and knoweth it as much as can be; he findeth wherewithall to be charmed in the face of a Woman: That just proportion of so many parts, that agreeable accord of the Fairest cou­lours, that lustre that shadow so well ordered, so many marvels which he discerneth there to glister, which do both astonish and En­chant him, causeth him to consider matters more than he can express: But is he not da­zled in such a manner as to make him forget what he is? Reason resisteth the Enchantment, his Soul is too discreet to be deceived, and al­ahough she doth extreamly desire this Beauty; her desires give her nothing but a sweet un­quietness: In fine she enjoyeth this Beauty; but she is so jealous of the pleasure she taketh, that she would not communicate it to the Body; It is in the highest part of the Soul [Page 238] that this pleasure refideth where the senses have no Intelligence. Truly it were an offence to Beauty, and a thing beneath her, (she the only pretious thing in the world) to design it for the Body, and who being made to rule over what is most high in man, to subject her self to what is most beneath her; there is nought but the Soul which can aspire to this sweet Union, because there is none but she that understandeth the happiness, you will doubtless say that the Soul doth not also make it difficulty to desire when she is in the depth of this possession: It is true, but it is always to possess Beauty, and for fear of losing it; whereas the Young people desire quite ano­ther thing than that which they have posses­sed, because their desires are not contented with so short a pleasure which they lose in the moment they have it, for which reason they are never without grief, nor without loathing it is not beyond Reason than to say that the persons who are something advanced in Age, are those who are the most fit to love. We must be assuredly Old said the Baron to him to comprehend this Love well; and we must be more than you are to content our selves: I know not in good Faith what you could an­swer, if (as Old as you are) we should freely ask You to know of You if you loved in no other manner than as you say. d'Armenton answered him but with a laugh, whom the rest [Page 239] of the company did also Imitate; and a little after the Cavaleer taking up the word, said that d'Armenton had reason to attribute this love to Old-Folks, for it must have been in Old Times; for now whether they are undeceived by these Lovers in Idea, or whether they love in quite another manner; and even those who are Older than we, must have found that in that (whatsoever d'Armenton can say) we are more reasonable than they, since those that concern themselves therein act just like us. It is certain said d'Arignan that Love requireth something that is more sensible; and that as the Soul and Body entreth into communion with the Evils of this Nature, they ought also to partake of the sweets: this is so true, that the Soul cannot well conceal the pleasures of Love, and taste them in a retreat, she cannot do it so well, but the senses must take part in these pleasures; they presently discern mirth seated in the Visage, the Eyes sparkle, there is sweetness and raptures found: all these speak so well of this admirable Intelligence, that it is only by that that the Soul is judged to rest contented, therefore it is a vain thing to make a love apart for the Soul, and another for the Body; the Interest is the same, their suffe­rings and enjoyments are together, they act and repose for one and the same reason; and it is by the means of the Senses that the Soul knoweth Love, she can also not be without [Page 240] them in tasting the pleasures of Love. Since you never were in Love answered him d'Ar­menton after the manner I mean, I must not think it strange that You know not its sweet­ness. The Soul is so well capable of tasting the pleasures of Love alone without the Bo­dies participation, that the pleasures are not true ones as soon as that partaketh, but plea­sures soaked in Tears, which begin and end al­ [...]aies in grief. Well Sir said the Baron to him, [...]ve you after this delicate manner that we my not envy you, and leave us in the error in which we are, and where we will continue that Love, having Charmes for the Body as well a the Souls the joy may spread all over: But to come to Age, I received a Letter not long since from the same Friend that writ to me concerning Jealousie, who maketh me dis­cern, that not only an Aged man ought not to Love, but that if he would he cannot; if the Company please they shall hear it. There was non but desired to hear this Letter, even to d'Armenton, who entreated him to defer no longer the doing them this pleasure; it con­tained these words.

All these Reasons said d'Armenton after the Baron had ended reading of his Letter, are good; but they make nothing against what I have said, and I am likewise of that Opinion with the rest of the world, that one must be a Fool indeed to love at that Age after the manner of Young people; but one must like­wise be wise indeed to Love after the manner I say, but it doth not belong to a Young man. There is nevertheless said the Count a famous Author among the Greeks, who saith that the less time we have to live, the more we ought to give to love: and that a man who hath gray hairs may Court a young Lass with as good Grace as we may joyn the Foses with the Lillies to male a fair Nose-gay, I believe he understood not that love only of the mind, but that which causeth us to fall into an agree­able weakness of mind to be the more tender of what we love. Thus Author was doubtless Old replyed the Abbot and we must not won­der at it if concerning Love he hath mentio­ned things of so little sense. I remember I heard Madamoisella d'Armond diverting her self in this Carden with a Song not long since, [Page 247] which is not a little pertinent to our present Discourse, and I hope she will vouchsafe this Company the goodness of obliging them with it now. She after a smal modest refusal, thus began.

This Sung with so Divine and sweet a Voice as was that of this Ladies, did not a little di­vert them after they had all spent their thoughts upon it, they returned to their for­mer discourses: I would know said the Ca­valeer what might be said of an Old Woman that might be in Love, since a man ought not to love, nor cannot at that Age: For the Wo­men answered him the Baron, insomuch that it is to be imagined that they ought never to Love unless they are loved; we may conclude that because there are no Old Women beauti­ful, they ought not to be in Love, since they cannot inspire it: There are notwithstanding enough said the Abbot who forbear not to Love, and I believe I swerve not from the truth if I assure you that there are Ten Old-Women Lovers to one Old Man that is in [Page 250] Love: But at what time interrupted him the Marchioness, Mr. Abbot do you think that the Women are Old. I believe answered her the Abbot, that as to what concerneth Love, they are Old enough at Forty. Alass you are too rigorous replyed the Countess d'Ermond to him smiling; and you will bring a great many Folks against you to condemn the Wo­men from loving after that Age. It is true added Madamoiselle d'Armond that you will do your self an ill turn by it, for I know a Lady who hath passed Forty Years, and who nevertheless shall dispute her Beauty with all the handsome Women in the Universe. No, no said the Dutchess, the Abbot is not just in that for even as the hard-favoured women are Old when they are first born; even so on the [...]ontrary, the Fair-ones conserve their handsome Features even almost to the last; and their Autumn hath this priviledge of being more pleasing, and more agreeable than the Spring of the others. There are some Women who in their Fiftieth Year have such beautiful remnants, that they are capable to move the passions at first sight; why should it not be permitted to them to love what they may find amiable. Madam replyed the Abbot, you may say what you please, but Age effaceth all that is amiable in your Sex, and I would willingly advise all VVomen to imitate the Empress Poppea, who prayed to the Gods that it [Page 251] would please them to let her dye before she saw Old Age with which her Looking-glass did already threaten her. You have declared your self so much an enemy to VVomen said the Marchioness to him, that although Your Counsels might be wholsome, yet we should make difficulty to follow them; we must a­gree with you that there are but few Beauties that are able to resist time. But are none a­amiable but those that are beautiful and a ver­tuous Soul doth she never borrow a recom­mendation for the Body as a pretious stone doth for the Mettle that Environeth it. I know not answered her the Abbot what would be­come of the VVomen if their beauty were not the cause that we seek them, and that we shun the Deformed Ones. Again it seldom hap­neth that a fair and spotless Soul Inhabiteth in an ugly Body. The Exte [...]ior Beauty is com­monly a Token of the Inward Goodness, it is a character by which the Soul is known, and in which Physiognomists make their whole Art consist. In a word, Deformity is so much an enemy to Happiness, that me-thinks it is a Scale Crow to all that meet it. I had procee­ded the Abbot a Song given me not long ago by a Friend, wherein is displayed how unfit it is for hard-favoured VVomen to Inhabit a­mongst Mortals; so pulling it out of his pocket, he read it as followeth, and after desired Madamoiselle d'Armond to sing it.

The Abbot spoke with so much ardour and action, that the Company could not forbear laughing; he ought not to have apprehended that any one would take the deformed Wo­mens parts, for although there were none here but what were extream Beautiful, there are [Page 254] none but slatter themselves on this score. The Conversation dured a while; it was a matter which was large, and which would have pro­duced more. But I perhaps begin to tire the Readers patience, and since this Illustrious Company did here Conclude, I shall also do the like.