AFter the Conquest of Italy, Charles the Eighth returning into his King­dom, met with the Queen at Am­boise, and the Duke and Dutchess of Alenson, with their Daughter Madamois [...]lle d' Alenson, whose Wit and Beauty were ex­treamly improved since the King his depar­ture: The Queen gave a thousand praises to the Conquerours, and especially to the Count de Dunois, to whom France ows its safety, in distinguishing him as much from the others, as he surpassed them in all the Qualities that might procure him the esteem of the whole world in general, and particularly of that Great Queen. Though the Prince received the Elogies she gave him with a very great Modesty, yet they did pleasantly flatter his [Page 2]Glory, and heighten in his Person that Noble and generous Meen, which accompanied all his Actions; but it was not only that Glory which made him sensible, he began to per­ceive in his Breast certain sentiments of in­quietude, which in a short time after he knew to be the beginnings of a strong and mighty Passion: and though he had not always been under an indifferency, yet he was well assured that the inclinations he had had till then, were but the slight amusements of an idle and an unactive Youth. Madam de Cominge, who was one of the fairest Ladies about the Court, would fain have appear'd to him unsupport­able with all her Charms, but notwithstand­ing the designs she had to please him, it was only Madem iselle d' Alenson that seem'd to him worthy of all his Addresses and Submis­sions.

The Application with which he gave them her, was quickly discovered by the Mareschal de Gié, who was the first person that took notice of it, and this knowledge gave him the most villanous affliction in the world: He did whatsoever he could to confirm him­self in this Opinion, although he had no de­fires to have the Confirmation made out; and 'tis certain, he did not know that he was be­come a Lover of Madamoiselle d' Alenson, but [Page 3]by the jealousie which he had of the Count de Dunois: This Mareschal was well advan­ced in years, and the long practise of War had made him very politick and subtil in his actions, much contrary to the present Mode of Gallantry; he was become a severe Mo­ralist, who had always kept himself far e­nough from any thing of that nature: But at last his fatal hour was come, he examined into the cause of his new disquiets; he was assured of them, and did oppose them, but could not get the Mastery; and though he held this for an Infallible Maxim, that Love was the Rock of Vertue, yet he could not hinder his splitting upon it. A doubtfulness in Love is an unspeakable torment, he hoped that he might be delivered from it, in disco­vering whither the Count de Dunois was re­ally in Love with Madamoiselle d' Alenson: To this end he goes one Morning to his Bed­side, and finding no body with him, he pre­sently fell into discourse about the Ladies: the Mareschal, who would fain have instruct­ed himself, and spoke his real thoughts, ex­toll'd the Beauty of Madamoiselle d' Alenson to the highest pitch imaginable, and did no at the same time forget to observe the coun­tenance of Dunois, he drew from it the as­sured conjectures of the passion of that Prince, [Page 4]which was likewise confirmed by his dis­course, when the Mareschal to make him confess it, told him, what were his thoughts of him: It is certain, says the Count, that the Beauty of this Princess has made so deep an impression upon my heart, that it never yet had the like; I knew presently I had ne­ver been in Love before, and I believe I shall never more count the days of my life, but by that in which my Love began: But, said the Mareschal to him, are you assur'd that she will answer your kindness, and do you fear nothing from her tender age, that is unable to make her know your Merit, and the respect you bear her? I fear all, replied the Count, but I hope all likewise, and I am sure of this, that Fear, and Hope, are the infallible conse­quences of Love: You have, replied the Ma­reschal, an infinite Merit, which procures you the esteem of all that come near you: But, Sir, take my word for it, Love is sometimes an effect of Capriciousness, rather than Rea­son; and though you deserve the entire af­fections of the fair Princess you love, yet Fate it may be, has resolv'd it otherwise: For my part, I count it, continued the Mareschal, more dangerous to stand the adventure of Love than War; and the difficulty which yet could never stop me in the most perillous oc­casions, [Page 5]does here appear to me a most dread­ful thing: You know also, Mounsieur le Ma­reschal, replied the Count, that the greater the danger is, the more glorious is the Con­quest, an easie Victory procures no satisfacti­on; but howsoever, I am resolved to abandon my self wholly to my Love: As Victory, said the Mareschal, is the appanage of Heroes, I am perswaded, Sir, you will get the Con­quest of her you aspire to, provided that the Interests of State do not oppose those of your Love.

I cannot tell whether the Mareschal should not have said more than he would have done, if the Marquiss de la Trimouille had not come in, and ended the Conversation, to begin one more general: the Mareschal took his leave with his head full of a thousand thoughts, which afforded him but worse troubles, his passion press'd him to a Conduct which his Vertue did condemn; but at length the weaker was forc'd to quit the Field, and made him resolve upon seeking out a Confident who was in the same Interests and Concerns with him, to thwart and oppose the Love of the Count de Dunois; for this purpose he made choise of Madam de Cominge, whom he knew to be of a piercing and subtil Wit, and very daring in her Enterprises; and withal, he [Page 6]was not ignorant of the inclinations she had for the Count. After he had made her an in­genuous Confession of his Love for Madamoi­selle d' Alenson, he craftily got out of her, that she had a Passion for the Count de Dunois: they resolv'd that Madam de Cominge, who had her lodgings in the Castle, should be more constantly near Mademoiselle d' Alen­son, and that she should endeavour to insinu­ate her self into the affections of the Prin­cess, by all the complaisances possible to pro­cure her her Friendship. It so happened, in the mean time, that the others were thinking of the divertisements that might be took in that place, it was a fair season, and the Spring began to reinvest the Trees with Leaves, as it did the Meadows with [...]lowers: And as the World has none so pleasant and charm­ing, as those that border the River de Loire, the Queen made account to spend one whole day in the Isle S. Jean, but there wanting a place convenient to receive her, it put their Inventions upon the Tenter how to contrive a way to keep off the scorching heat of the Sun; but the Count de Dunois took upon him the charge of that day, and they pre­pared themselves for this Innocent pleasure, as if it had been for a Magnificent Entertain­ment, there chanced to be a good deal of [Page 7]Rain, which retarded them for some days; during which, the Mareschal being gone to Madam d' Alenson's, found her a little melan­cholly, which she was not used to be; she had dismiss'd Maisiere, one of the pleasant Fellows that follow the Court, whose open folly conceals a politick subtilty, which never fails to lead them to their proposed ends, and who was sometimes used to divert the Prin­cess; this made the Mareschal conjecture that her mind was disturbed, especially seeing her two or three times in a posture that show'd as if she was in a thousand perplexities which way to take, and what to do; he quickly reasoned like one that is Jealous on this change, and thought, that the Count de Du­nois had been entertaining Madamoiselle d' A­lenson with his Passion; and without ever thinking on the consequences of that false conjecture, he could not refrain asking her the cause of her melancholly: Truly, said she to him, I cannot tell you presently, though I must confess I am not so chearful as ordina­rily I was wont to be, yet I cannot give you a reason for it: So great a change, Madam, interrupted the Mareschal, seldom happens without a cause; you live not in an Age where the General Affairs can much afflict you, and you are not enough instructed in [Page 8]those of your House to have them give you any concern, which makes me conclude, that your melancholiness arises from some secret Source, which if it be not too great a pre­sumption in me to be desirous to search into, I should be bold, perhaps, to assure my self that I should not have too remote a guess at it: You are very pleasant, Mounsieur le Ma­reschal, to perswade me that I am under some distemper, when you hear me make no com­plaints; I tell you again what I have already told you, which is, that I have no trouble upon me, and that if you found me in a me­lancholy humour, it is because you came just in a time that I was seriously musing; and indeed, continued she, I scarce know any one body that has not theirs, let them be never so brisk. Ah! Madamoiselle, replied the Ma­reschal, one may easily get out of it, when it is only taking up for ones pleasure; but you have defended this little time too well, to make me think that it is not infinitely a­greeable and delightful to you. You have reason, pursued the Mareschal, you have rea­son, Madamoiselle, that Declaration which Mounsieur le Count de Dunois has made you of his Love, well deserves you should think up­on it; I beg your pardon, Madamoiselle, if I concern my self with a secret where without [Page 9]doubt you would not call me to your Coun­sel: I know not, replied modestly Madamoi­selle d' Alenson, whether Mounsieur le Count de Dunois has any kindness for me, but this I do know very well, that he has not been so hardy and venturous as to acquaint me with it: He knows that persons of his and my Quality are not Masters of their Choise, and though what you say should be true, it ought not to be from him that I should learn it: At least it should be from your prudence not to do it, replied the Mareschal; for as you do say very well, Madamoiselle, that persons of your Birth are almost always the Victims of the Publick Good, and the Maxims of State often prevail over the inclinations of the heart, affairs are now in such a posture, as the King has need of making himself Allies, to oppose the Enemies that the Report of his Glory has raised up against him. For God's sake, Mounsieur le Mareschal, said Madamoi­selle d' Alenson, do not you interrupt this se­rious moment which you suppose gives me so much delight, and if it can be, do not you make of it an insufferable one; let us rather discourse of the divertisement for which we are preparing. The Princess had no sooner ended these words, but the Count de Dunois enter'd her Chamber; the Mareschal depart­ed [Page 10]quickly after, but meeting with Madam de Cominge, he sent her with all speed unto Madamoiselle d' Alensons, to afford no time to this Lover of entertaining his fair Princess in private. As she saw him coming in, she blush'd, not being able, without some confu­sion, to think on what the Mareschal had just before told her; yet she concealed it, and that she might not expose her self to a conversa­tion that might have increas'd it, she fell to talk of general things, doing whatever she could to prevent falling into particulars: The Count de Dunois, on the contrary, was still letting down his voice, and with earnestness sought after that which Madamoiselle d' Alen­son shunn'd with all the precaution she could; but for all that he was just ready to explain himself, when Madam de Cominge came in, which much to his unhappiness oblig'd him to desist for that time.

This was the first mischievous hour that she began to prove fatal to the Count, who not­withstanding took it then for a thing that fell out by accident. After they had discoursed some time about indifferent matters, there came so much company to Madamoiselle d' A­lenson's, that made him despair to recover the opportunity that Madam de Cominge had made him lose: He went to the Queen, [Page 11]with whom he found but few persons; she told him, she had perceived he was fallen in Love with the Princess, and she had the goodness to assure him, that she approv'd his Love, and would be favourable in it. After he had confirmed her in it, he humbly begg'd she would continue her protection to him, and be mighty sollicitous with the King that he would give him his leave to Marry with the Princess: The Queen promis'd she would when she saw convenient time, but she told him that she thought it best to prepossess the Duke and Dutchess d' Alenson's mind. That Evening it was resolv'd on, that the Morrow after they would go to the Isle S. Jean: The next day the Queen being drest, all the La­dies of the Court came to wait upon her, and got up into their Coaches to go to the River side, where they found divers small Boats some painted, and others guilded, that at­tended them to take up the Queen, and her Retinue.

The dav prov'd extraordinary fair, and the weather calm, and the Ladies never appear'd so beautiful as then, when they were in their Dishabilees: Madamoiselle d' Alenson, above all others, had such Charms in that Dress, that it was impossible for any to defend them­selves: if they made a violent impression [Page 12]upon the heart of the Count de Dunois, they were fatal to the reason of the Mareschal, who would be one at this Solemnity, not so much for his own pleasure, neither to contribute to that of the Companies, but to endure there all the torments of a racking Jealousie, and to give the Princess confusion, if it were pos­sible. The Queen Landed at the Bank of this Festival Meadow, but instead of meet­ing with Willows and Osiers, she was pre­sented with an exact and regular border of Orenges, Pomegranat-trees, and Myrtles; and for the Field-flowers, she saw all those that the Spring could produce in the most curious and imbellished Gardens: The Queen was very pleasantly surpriz'd at this sight, and much more, when she enter'd into the Green Arbours which were prepar'd for her Recep­tion; for all within were they beautified and set out with an infinite number of Garlands made of Rushes and Violets, which caus'd an agreeable and surprizing effect: The Repast was mighty splendid, the Musick of Hoe-boys, and other Instruments, was there compleat, and served as an Inter-act to a Pastoral that was rarely well represented. The whole Court admired that in four days time all these things could be so exactly and curious­ly ordered, for they did seem to be perfect­ly [Page 13]Natural. In the Evening the Queen was desirous to taste the sweetness of the Air, and walk'd a pretty while leaning upon Madam de Cominge, whom she had a mind to discourse with privately.

It happened that the greatest part of the Courtiers and Ladies were divided into seve­ral Companies, some spending their time in gathering Flowers, whilst other were ob­serving the motion of the waters, and all of them serv'd to make an easie way for the Count de Dunois to entertain Madamoiselle d' Alenson. The Mareschal would fain have oppos'd it, but the Marquiss de la Trimouille, who well knew the pleasure that he should do the Count to divert this troublesome Companion, put in, and presently fell upon the Subject of War, and Stratagems, whilst Madameiselle d' Alenson avoided as much as she could the private conversation with the Count; but it was high time for her to learn from his mouth a thing not unprofi­table to her satisfaction, and which only her modesty made her to shun: You see, says he, Madamoiselle, how all the world con­spires to give me an occasion of acquaint­ing you with an important secret, whereof the Queen has permitted me to make you confident, she her self has ordered me to [Page 14]tell it to none but you alone. As I am al­ways near the Queen, replied Madamoiselle d' Alenson, who does me the Honour often to speak with me, I suppose if there were any thing particular which she would have me know, I suppose, I say, she would have gi­ven this Commission to no body: Notwith­standing she has chosen me for this purpose, replied the Count de Dunois: and to lose no time in acquitting my self of it, know Ma­damoiselle, that the Queen having been ac­quainted with the Passion I have for you, and the respect which has kept me from telling you of it, has commanded me not to make it any longer a secret to you. The very Name of the Queen, answered Mada­moiselle d' Alenson, imposes on me so much respect, as that it makes me to forbear te­stifying to you a little more severely the confusion that this Declaration gives me; not to derogate from the respect I bear her, and not to do any thing also contrary to my Duty, be assured that I will keep my self to that which is permitted me; and let me tell you, that it is forbidden persons of your Quality and mine, to make their own Destinies: But Mademoiselle, said the Count, what the Queen does Authorize, shall it not be to you an indispensable Law? What [Page 15]she ordains me, replied the Princess, shall; but pray let me wait till she does prescribe Laws to me, for I would by no means prevent her in them. The Count was going to discover to her the melting passion of his Soul, when word was brought the Queen, that the King was coming to Land at the Isle. This news, without all perad­venture, ended a conversation that was very sweet and pleasing to the Count, but he had the comfort to perceive neither se­verity nor anger in the eyes of this Prin­cess: But yet the Marquiss de la Trimouille, all this while, was not a little pestered with the Mareschal de Gié, who was so terribly afflicted in his mind, that he thought some­time he would run mad; wheresoever the Marquiss led him, he would be turning still that way which would have carried him to the Count; he several times spoke that Prince's name for anothers, he lifted up his eyes to heaven, struck himself with his hands, and chattered certain words between his teeth, but they were so wretchedly ut­tered, that it was impossible for any to un­derstand them; and sometimes he fell into such a profound silence, that Mounsieur de la Trimouille could not for his Soul get him out of, though he put to him a thousand [Page 16]Interrogatories. The King being come, all the people flockt about the Queen; the King who that day had some affairs to dispatch, could not come to joyn with them before the Evening, yet he did not fail sharing with them in pleasures very agreea­ble and delightful: For as soon as the day was shut in, there was seen upon the River a thousand lights very artificially invented, and brought along at the sound of a hun­dred Trumpets. After this Divertisement, succeeded another Treat more magnificent than the former; which being ended, they went into a green Arbour shining with a prodigious number of Lamps, all burning in Glasses of Chrystal, and here it was that the Ball began; Madamoiselle d' Alenson dan­ced there with so smooth and delicate a Grace, that she was the general admiration of the company; the Count de Dunois on his part joyning, to the rare meen that was so natural to him, the ambition he had to please his fair one, very advantagiously suc­ceeded in his design; and did even more than he would have done, for Madam de Cominge could not behold him so transcend­ing, without having her heart sensible again of those former flames wherewith she had burnt for him, but she could not see them [Page 17]neglected, without forming in her head a design to revenge her self. She declined dancing that Evening, and taking her time, now all the company was busied in that Di­vertisement, which was not any longer to the benefit of the Mareschal, she came to him, and told him, that the Queen had had a long discourse with her; that she was as­sured she bore the Count de Dunois a great deal of esteem and friendship: but withal, at the same time, forgot not to tell him, that she had observed she had not the same Sentiments for him: He was not at all sur­prized at it, for he did remember the secret Factions he raised to oppose the Queens Marriage, and consequently the reasons she had not to love him. After a great many discourses on the subject of their weighty affair, which was Jealousie, they were of opinion that the Mareschal should take the first opportunity that was presented to forestal the King about it: But yet Maisiere, who made it his business to instruct himself with the Court-adventures, preferred to the pleasure of seeing them dance, that of observing Madam de Cominge, and the Ma­reschal, who were slipt out of the Arbour into another: Maisiere did his utmost to over-hear what they said, but they spoke so [Page 18]low, that he could pick out nothing, only at the latter end of their discourse, the mutual assurance they gave of their fidelity each to other: Maisiere needed nothing more to make him believe that the Ma­reschal and Madam de Cominge were deep­ly ingaged in Love; he told it to some one privately, who quickly conveyed it to a­nother, till in a short time it came to be known to the whole Court. Madamoiselle d' Alenson was not one of the last who was acquainted with it, for Maisiere took a world of care to give her the knowledge of any thing he thought might divert her: This gave her occasion innocently to rally at Madam de Cominge upon the subject of her Love, which she took little care to dis­swade the Princess from, being very glad to conceal, under this pretext, the private Commerce they had established between them. In this posture matters were then, when the King learn'd that the neopolitans were reduced to the Obedience of the King of Arragon: Only the Mareschal de Gié was with the King when he received this news; he presently resolved to go into I­taly to punish the Rebels: The Mareschal strengthened him in his design, and disco­vered to him at the same time, that it was requisite to secure the Milanois to himself, [Page 19]in making an Alliance with them, which would draw them off from the League which they had entered into with the Em­perour Maximilian, Ferdinand King of Spain, and the Princes of Italy. The Ma­reschal added, that the only means he knew of to break this Confederacy, was to marry Madamoiselle d' Alenson to the young Duke of Milan, or at least agree upon things, till such time as the young Duke should be of age fit to marry. The King did much approve of the Mareschals advice, and or­dered him to go presently and find out the Duke d' Alenson. The Mareschal counselled the King to keep this business secret, and acquainted him with the love of the Count de Dunois for Madamoiselle d' Alenson: He said, perhaps this Prince might by some in­direct course break off the Alliance, craftily insinuating into the Kings Breast a kind of suspition for the Count. When he had left the King in the disposition he so much de­sired, he went and found out Mounsieur le Duke d' Alenson, and Madam his Wife, to whom he proposed the marriage of their Daughter with the Duke of Milan; and as they objected to him the Dukes extream tender age, the Mareschal gave them the same Expedient he had given the King, to [Page 20]Sign the Articles, and not conclude the Marriage till some years after. This Trea­ty appearing advantagious to the Duke and Dutchess, they consented that the Mareschal should take this business upon him; but he observ'd to them the same precantion as he had to the King, telling them, that secresie is the Soul of weighty affairs. After this was done, he sent presently to Sforza a­bout it, Uncle and Tutor of the Duke of Milan. Whilst he was thus imployed, the Queen went to see Madam d' Alenson, to know her thoughts, and the Dukes her Hus­band, about the marriage of Mounsieur le Count de Dunois, and the Princess their Daughter: But the Queen was much sur­priz'd to perceive the Dutchess did not an­swer her as she expected, and that she did not gladly receive such a Proposition; judging then by the manner of the Dut­chess her speaking to her, that there must be some particular reason for her shifting off this Proposition: The Queen prest her, and making use of those ingaging words wherewith she commonly subdued hearts, she began to stagger the discretion of the Dutchess, and at last forc'd out of her the secret of the Mareschal his Negotiation: The aversion the Queen had for him, and [Page 21]the friendship she bore the Count de Du­nois, obliged her to ruine the designs of the Mareschal, by all the ways she could imagine, that were possible to prove fatal to him. She made the Dutchess d' Alenson to consider, that this Marriage would for ever deprive her of the comfort of seeing a Daughter that was so beloved by her; that neither her age, nor the Dukes her Husband, would permit her often to take a Journey to Milan; and on the other hand, the Al­liance of Mounsieur le Count de Dunois, would let her quietly enjoy a good that was so dear to her: The Queen added yet farther, that the inequality of Madamoiselle d' Alen­son's Age with the Duke of Milan's, would bring such a constraint upon their minds, that it would be impossible for her ever to live happy. The Queen seeing these rea­sons began to work upon the tenderness of the Dutchess, prest her with so many insi­nuations, that if the good Lady did not yield up her self quite at that instant, she found at least she was strongly inclined to fall into the sentiments the Queen was so vehemently inspiring her withal. After she had farther urged her upon this subject, she left her, to give her some time to make reflection upon all the Queen had been say­ing [Page 22]to her. The Count de Dunois not know­ing either his unhappiness, or the goodness of the Queen in endeavouring to remove it, was gone with Mounsieur de la Trimou­ille to Madamoiselle d' Alenson's, with whom they found Madam de Cominge: The Mar­quiss pretending to speak to her of the Re­port that was spread about the Court, that the Mareschal was fallen in love with her, took her to a Window to entertain her a­bout it: She denied it very scurvily, for she had no mind to remove his doubt, and still more scurvily, by the jealousie she had in seeing the Count speak low to the Prin­cess, whom he had so strongly perswaded that day, that she did not forbid him to love her, nor to hope being beloved again: She easily thought that the Queen did ap­prove his love, and was not troubled, that it was not in her power to oppose that Au­thority with the scruple she made of loving a Prince, who was not made choise of by those persons to whom she owed submissi­on. This conversation had all the ravish­ing sweetness that possibly could make it a­greeable to those between whom it was held: Madam de Cominge, who took notice of their satisfaction by it, accounted it as Hell and Damnation to her; the coming in [Page 23]of Maisiere made this jealous Lover hope the Princess would speak to him as she was wont, but seeing she was deceived, she would fain have obliged him to interrupt the conversation. Maisiere knowing well that the familiarity would be at that time very unseasonable, answered Madam de Cominge after his usual frank way: And would you have been glad, Madam, that I had come and troubled you in the green Arbour, when you were privately discour­sing with Mounsieur le Mareschal de Gié, and the rest were dancing in the Isle S. Jean; would not you have bid me go and see when the Ball would have ended? I should have been sure, Madam; to have received such a Commission from you: Now I have no am­bition to be imployed upon the like Er­rand by the Princess, let us speak, if it please you, of what all the World speaks, that is, of the King his Voyage for Italy, of the tears that will be shed at his departure, and of the joy that we shall receive to see him return with Lawrels on his Brow. But observing that Madam de Cominge an­swered not a word, I believe, went he on, that your mind is already taken up with the regret of thinking that your Friends are about to leave you. Let me, Madam, coun­sel [Page 24]you to be merry whilst you do injoy the sight of them, till they be troubled by their absence. Madamoiselle d' Alenson not being willing, out of regard to civility, to make the conversation last any longer, the Count took his leave of her, and went to the Queen, of whom he learn'd the condition that his affairs were in. At the first, his Resentments were carried out against the Mareschal; but the Queen discovered to him, that his proceedings being strengthen­ed by the appearance of the Publick Good, it would be to ruine himself in the Kings favour, to show any violence against him, and then she should not be in a capacity to do him further service: She gave him then strict charge to smother his anger, and to leave to her the care of managing his Inte­rests with prudence. When he came from the Queen, the Count went to his Apart­ment with the Marquiss de la Trimouille, to whom he told all that she had acquainted him with. They discoursed together what should be the motives to make the Ma­reschal act in so strange a manner; and re­flecting on what was past, they judg'd it might proceed from his being in Love, the Marquiss relating to him what he had ob­served at the Isle S. Jean: but on the o­ther [Page 25]hand, what Maisier had heard, made them that they could scarce believe it. In the Evening, the Queen discoursed with Madamoiselle d' Alenson in private, and spoke to her so extreamly advanta­gious of her Illustrious Gallant, that the Princess fully resolved within her self to love him, especially being incouraged by the Queen, who shewed her so many disadvantages in her marrying of the Duke of Milan, that Madamoiselle d' A­lenson put away all the scruples she had made to a band on her heart to this Inno­cent affection. Many days passed away, in which Mounsieur le Count de Dunois enjoyed divers conversations in liberty with his Princess, both at the Queen's Lodgings, and at the Walks. Madam de Cominge having been under such an indisposition, that she could not leave her Chamber; but these pleasant Enter­tainments, which o'rewhelmed them with Joy and Delight, proved insupportable to the Mareschal; so that not being a­ble any longer to suffer them, he went to the Duke d' Alenson's, and told him, that it was necessary he should advert se the Princess his Daughter, that she shou d carry her self with more indifference to­wards [Page 26]the Count de Dunois, without giving of him any other particular rea­son than that of her humour. As 'tis Natural for Fathers and Mothers to cut short the liberty of their Children, the Duke was much pleased that he had an occasion to give her his Prohibitions and Commands; a priviledge that he often put in practise. He made Madamoiselle d' Alenson be called before her Mother, and made a long Harrangue on the O­bedience that a Daughter Nobly born owes to the persons that gave them their being. After which, he did strictly for­bid her having any particular interview with the Count de Dunois, and ordered her to be content with living civilly with him.

The Princess was so surprized at this cruel Command, that if the Duke had taken notice of the alterations in her face, he might without any conjuring have guess'd at the cause; but by good hap he left her to discourse with the Dutchess her Mother: She withdrew in­to her apartment, where Madam de Cominge enter'd almost as soon as she. The Princess having known of the Queen the Mareschals design for her marriage [Page 27]with the Duke of Milan, did make her complaints to her, whom she supposed was his Mistress, who delivered her as soon from that Opinion; and after ma­ny discourses to disabuse her of it, she asked the Princess if she had ne're su­spected the Mareschal to be in love with her: The Princess having told her, that she had never given her self the trouble to think of it. Madam de Cominge took care to make her observe the application with which the old Mareschal did re­gard her; how neat and modish he was when he visited her, and a thousand o­ther observations; which made Ma­damoiselle d' Alenson remember, that what Madam de Cominge had told her, was not improbable: but there came then many other thoughts into her head. Her being forbid to see the Count de Du­nois, caused so great an affliction to her, that she could not keep it to her self. Madam de Cominge was yet unsuspected by her, and this subtil person had al­ways appeared so strongly inclined to the Princesses Interests, that she intrusted her with the secret of her heart; the love she had for the Count de Dunois, and the fear she was in lest her marriage with the [Page 28]Duke of Milan should be concluded; and the villanous Order that she had recei­ved, not any more to speak to the Count: But she discovered this grief with such melting expressions, that Ma­dam de Cominge made as if she would have died with madness.

The Princess having observed she was touch'd with it, gladly applied her self to this feign'd compassion, and thank'd her so obligingly for it, that any other but this Perfidious Wretch would have submitted to so much goodness and sweetness of Nature. If she did it not in good earnest, at least she could pre­tend it: she rail'd and storm'd against the Mareschal; she quarrel'd with all the world, and pour'd out so many tears, that Madamoiselle d' Alenson thought she could do no better than make a Confi­dent of Madam de Cominge, who of­fered to facilitate a Commerce of Let­ters between the Princess, and the Count. The Princess being sensible that it was very requisite the Count should be quick­ly advertised of the Prohibition the Duke had made her, so that he should not be surprized at the strangeness of her car­riage towards him, and that he should [Page 29]bethink how he ought to manage him­self on his part, took the occasion that Madam de Cominge offered her, and writ these few words.

Madam de Cominge received this Let­ter from the hands of the Princess un­sealed; but before she would give it to the [Page 30]Count, she shewed it to the Mareschal, who was only concerned at it for the In­terests of his Jealousie, and not at all for the displeasure he did to that person in the world, for whom he had the greatest passion. He was several times about to run away from her with the Letter, and to carry it to the Duke d' Alenson's; but the itching desire he had to see the An­swer, made him give it again to this Faithless Confident.

By accident she met the Count, whom she spoke to, and told him she had something particular to say to him; and that she could not trust him with the secret, but in a place where they could be neither seen, nor heard by any. They agreed she should expect him at her A­partment, where she no sooner saw him coming in, but she was before hand with him: You see Sir, said she to him, how deeply one is concerned in your In­terests; and by this Letter I present you, you may judge what I do for you, and against my self: Whatever happiness should come to me from it, replied the Count to her, in taking it, I should be extreamly sorry it should give you the least trouble. Read, says she to him, I [Page 31]account the peril nothing that I expose my self to. The Count was so surpri­zed in reading what the Princess writ to him, that for some time it made him lose the use of his speech. Ah! Ma­dam, said he at last to her, let the trou­ble I give you cost me dear, and what is the misery I must undergo for you? I am mightily concerned, replied Ma­dam de Cominge to him, to increase your affliction; but I have orders from the Princess for to acquaint you with the circumstances of her ill fortune, and yours.

She then up and told him what had passed between the Duke and his Daugh­ter; and at the same time assured him, that since the priviledge of Conversa­tion was forbidden him, she would fa­cilitate that of writing for him. How sensible soever the Count was of this un­happiness, he was notwithstanding very much pleased at Madam de Cominge's carriage towards him; and not discern­ing the Artifice, he made her his ac­knowledgments in the most tender and obliging terms that could be. When he had done so, he begg'd of her by all the Friendship she ever had for him, and [Page 32]by the esteem he had conserv'd for her, to oblige Madamoiselle d' Alenson to grant him one private interview, where he might discover to her all his affliction, and give her the assurances of his faith­fulness. She promised him to use her utmost perswasions to bring the Princess to a compliance. The Count likewise desir'd it by a small Note he gave to Ma­dam de Cominge: It had the same desti­ny as the former; for it was seen by the Mareschal, before it was ever given to the Princess: And this Jealous Lover read in it these words with the most vio­lent transports, that it was possible for that Passion to produce.

The Mareschal would fain have had Madam de Cominge burnt the Letter, or done any thing else with it, and never mention the Enterview that the Count desired of Madamoiselle d' Alenson: but the Treacherous Confident discovering to him the advantage that he might de­rive from it, made him at last consent that she should give her the Letter, and [Page 34]insist upon the secret Audience that the Count desir'd of the Princess, resolving together to take their measures accord­ing to the use they observed her to make of it; and presently after Madam de Co­minge went to give to her an account of her Commission: But when she was perswading her to consent to the Enter­view that the Count de Dunois begg'd of her with so much earnestness and sollici­tation, the Princess could not get leave of her self to resolve upon it. She laid down so many substantial reasons to Madam de Cominge, that she thought she would never farther trouble her about it. But at last Love was too violent for all her reflections: the time and place were a­greed on to be the next day, at the dusk of the Evening, in the Park, with Ma­dam de Cominge, and her women only. The Mareschal was the first who was advertised of it, and prepared himself to represent there the troublesome per­son, and her Persecutors. The Count al­so waited the good minute with a great deal of impatience: but Madam de Co­minge put the turn upon him, in telling him, that Madamoiselle d' Alenson had not found any place more convenient, and [Page 35]less suspected, than her Apartment, which was not very remote from that of the Princess. But whilst that Mada­moiselle d' Alenson was poring upon the ill consequences that this Interview might bring along with it, the King was speaking to the Count de Dunois, and communicating to him his design for Italy, telling him of the Imploys he ought to have in his Army: and after­wards he closely fell upon the particu­lars of the Negotiation of Milan; I am obliged, says the King to him, to facili­tate the passage of my Troops, to con­cern the Duke of Milan in my Interests, and to draw them off from fiding with my Enemies, by an Alliance, whereof of necessity, Madamoiselle d' Alenson must tye the Knot. I know very well, con­tinued the King, your Love will not per­mit you to be concern'd in this policy; but yet I am more perswaded, that your affection for me will force you to con­sent to it: Your Majesty, replied the Count, is sufficient to exact from me my Obedience; but if it may please you to examine the Conduct of Sforza with the Milanois, perhaps it would remove the Opinion you now have, that this [Page 36]Marriage might take effect: Indeed, pur­sued he, 'tis not probable that a man who aspires at Tyranny, will marry a Prince whom he has a design to ruine: and it is not to be imagined, that a pru­dent man will bring again upon himself a puissance so terrible as yours, which Sforza infallibly will procure to himself, if after this Alliance, he got the State of the Duke of Milan into his own hands. Those who have the charge of this Ne­gotiation, said the King, will manage my Interests with so much prudence, that we shall be secure from that Event, and I expect within these few days the Conclusion of this Treaty. As he made an end of these words, the King went presently to the Queen, without giving the Count time to reply upon him. One may easily imagine that he was sensibly touched at this discourse, but his hope for some time suspended the affliction that he conceived at it. The hour of the Rendezvous drawing near, Madam de Cominge writ a Letter to Madamoiselle d' Alenson, by which she begged her ex­cuse that she could not wait upon her to the Park, upon some pretence that could by no means in the world be dispenced [Page 37]withal. The Princess had a good mind several times to break off the assignation, and then she saw the inconveniencies of it, and fear'd lest this Interview, though wholly Innocent, might be construed to her disadvantage. On the other side, the desire of seeing the Prince urged her mightily to it.

After she had made a thousand tu­multuous reflections, she determined to do what her heart inspired her to. She went into the Park a little after it was dark, but it was with a great deal of trembling. The confusion of those Sen­timents seemed to presage no happiness to her from this carriage; she had al­ready took some turns in a shady pri­vate walk that she had made choise of, because it appeared to her more retired, and so consequently more safe, when she perceived a man by the glimmering light of the Moon to come over the Park Pales, and making near her in an hum­ble and respectful posture, she advanced towards him: By the peril I expose my self to, judge, said she to him, in begin­ning with him, of my esteem, and of my affection; for at last, after the cruel Prohibitions from my Father of speaking [Page 38]to you, what confusion should I receive, if ever it should be discovered that I had a private Interview with the Count de Dunois; and especially if it were known by the Mareschal? And why, Madamoiselle, interrupted the Mareschal, (for it was neither better nor worse, but even he himself) is this unhappy Ma­reschal so dreadful to you, who cannot be suspected by you, without becoming at the same time the object of your ha­tred? It is easie to be judged what was the Princess her surprize, when she heard this voice: Yet she only had a suspition of her unhappiness from it; but what was her fear when she began to think, that the Count de Dunois might come, and that finding her there at that hour with the Mareschal, he might a little doubt her sincerity; or that seeking an opportunity to quarrel with him, he might take this advantage from this Rencounter. A thousand things came into her imagination, which put her almost into fatal Trances. The Mares­chal perceived it by her silence, and though a few steps she fled away from him, yet he respectfully caught hold of her by her Garment: I see well, said he [Page 39]to her, Madamoiselle, that this Counter-time is displeasing to you, and that for a happy moment, for which you were waiting, you are like to have but a very troublesome one: But since the goodness of my stars conducted me here, suffer me to profit by it; and that I tell you a truth which I have a long time kept private to my self, and did resolve never to speak of it: Know then, Madamoiselle, if you thought to find here a Prince that is deep in Love; you find here in his place one that is the most passionate of all the men in the world: Your Birth has not dazled me, but your Charms have seduced my Reason; and maugre all the resolutions that I took never to love any thing, I have left my self to be overcome by that Ardour that must consume me. What! replied Madamoiselle d' Alenson, you do not only find your self in a place where I have nothing to fear but you, but you will yet serve your self of this advan­tage, and lose that respect that is your duty in speaking to me of your foolish passion: But not to entertain it, conti­nued the Princess, know, that Fortune does not so much make me averse to you, as the disestimation, nay hatred, that I [Page 40]have conceived from your unworthy procedure. Ah! Madamoiselle, interrupt­ed the Mareschal, do not you think of that dispair that now you cast me into, and fear you nothing from a Man of Spi­rit, whose love and respect you slight? If you kept your self, interrupted she, within the bounds of that Vertue that a Man of Honour prescribes to himself, you would not have taken such indis­creet measures to trouble the Innocent and harmless kindness which I have for the Count de Dunois, and to begin the Intrigue of an Alliance, where, accord­ing to all appearances, you shall never be happy in the success? Do not you abuse your self with the thoughts of it, pur­sued she, it may happen, that I shall never be for him to whom my heart does de­stine me; but it is certain, that I will die a thousand times over, rather than you shall be the Director of my Fortune. It may be, Madamoiselle, said the Mares­chal, that the inclinations of Mounsieur, your Father, will make you change your resolves now, and that your Vertue will not betray it self by a disobedience that will appear Criminal to all the world: Things are now in such a posture, that [Page 41]you ought not much to hope for change. The Princess hearing the Mareschal speak to her in this manner, thought that she should have died with grief, but she came to her self, and thought that in making him see the good that he lost by his proceedings, she might inspire him with a desire of re-establishing himself in her favour: In truth, said she to him, I never knew that any gained the heart of those persons they love, by doing all they can to give them displeasure; and if my esteem was a happiness for you, why are you so desirous to lose it? and to what purpose does such a conduct serve you, that is so opposite to the way that might lead you to it? Alas! Madamoi­selle, what reason do you demand from a man, who blindly follows the Laws that his passion imposes on him? I have per­ceiv'd I was not able to live, and see you in the Arms of a Prince who loves you, and whom you do not hate; and I thought in procuring you a strange Alli­ance, I should be less wretched, though I expos'd my self to the unhappiness of your absence. You expose your self there­by, replied the Princess, to all those that may follow my indignation: If you had [Page 42]loved me with the respect you owe to me; if you had left it to me to Divine your passion, I might have complained of you, and not being able to answer your Sentiments, I might have, at least, granted you my esteem. I have told you already, Madamoiselle, replied the Ma­reschal, that I had resolved never to speak of it whilst I lived; and I should have done so, if I had not been forced to seek my Cure in the testimonies of your compassion, or in the last marks of your hatred: But Madamoiselle, by the measure that you make me acquainted with it, my Love and my Dispair in­crease, so that I am not yet at the point where you desire me. The Princess had not held so tedious a Conversation, but for the fear she was in lest the Mareschal should advertise the Dake d' Alenson, which kept her from leaving him a­lone: She still hoped to bring him back to his Reason, and constrained her Re­sentment, even to desire him not to re­veal this secret to those that might con­demn it. He did not make her a precise answer; he only told her, she was the Mistress of his silence, and it wholly de­pended on the manner that she meant to [Page 43]live with him. Madamoiselle d' Alenson had much ado to leave the Mareschal in the disposition wherein she saw him; and it may be she had yet retained him, but the Marquiss de la Trimouille, who by hazard came back to bathe himself with several other persons of the Court, was coming up to them, and ended this troublesome Interview. The Mareschal withdrew first, and the Princess was not not long after him in it, having no dis­position to expose her self to another Interview in the trouble her mind was in.

When she was at her Apartment, she wrote a Note to Madam de Cominge, to know of her the cause of this dangerous mistake. She gave it to a Maid, whom she ordered not to put it into the hand of this perfidious Confident, but when she should see no body with her. This Maid, who was called Madamoiselle de Rieux, and who was bred up with Madamoiselle d' Alenson, went to Madam de Cominge; and informing her self in the Anticham­ber whether she was alone, she was told that the Count de Dunois had been there with her they knew not how long. She would not go in when she heard that, but [Page 44]went into a little Chamber, where she waited till they came, and told her that he was gone. Rieux discharg'd her Com­mission, and Madam de Cominge seem'd surprized in reading the Letter the Prin­cess sent her; but because she look'd eve­ry minute for the Mareschals coming to her, she dismiss'd Rieux with all the haste she could, telling her, that she would be to morrow with the Princess by that time she was out of her Bed, to give her as good accouut as she could in whatever she desired to be inform'd. Rieux carried her Mistress this imperfect answer, which in all probability did not give her much satisfaction: And as she asked her why she stayed so long for so slight a matter, Rieux frankly told her, that the Count de Dunois having past all the Evening with Madam de Cominge, she waited till he was gone. Those words augmented the trouble in which the Princess then was: Jealousie began to fill up her thoughts, and made there its usual extra­vagancies. Sometimes she did hit upon some Idea's of the truth; but Jealousie would be Master, and made such disorder and confusion in her mind, that she stood in need of all her Reason to keep her from [Page 45]being wholly overcome by it. But this was but the beginning of her affliction; for in the midst of these troublesome re­flections, the Duke her Father entered her Chamber, and as it was not ordinary for him to make her any Visits at such an unseasouable hour as that was, it gave her the greater surprize. But this severe Father did not suffer her to be long in suspence upon the occasion of his com­ing; he prevented her, by his outragious reproaches of her Conduct, laying open to her her walking in the Park, in all the colours that might make it appear horri­ble to her. In vain the Princess would have justified her self by the approbation the Queen had given to her esteem for the Count de Dunois: he would not hear a word; and he was so carried out by his rage, that he had like to have commit­ted the last violences against his Daugh­ter.

But at last, having School'd her a great while, he left her, being weary with it; and it is very probable, that the Princess was extreamly tormented to hear him. As he was going out, he did command her not to stir out of her Chamber but by his order: he appointed a Gentleman [Page 46]who had followed him, to observe her motions, and let none of her Women go out of her Apartment. Whilst the Prin­cess was arguing with her self about her unhappiness, the Count de Dunois was as much disquieted within himself. He was gone to Madam de Cominge's, and not meeting with the Princess there, he was in hopes she would not be longe're she came, During the first moments, he was pleased with his impatience, in having brought him there to wait for her: but staying there a good while, without any other inquietude than that which attend­ed on what one loves, he began to find the hours very long: Madam de Cominge perceiving his uneasiness, feigned to be troubled at it: she made one of her Wo­men be called, and ordered her to go and know where Madamoiselle d' Alenson did pass away the Evening. This Wo­man, after she had stayed long enough to make them believe that she had ac­quitted her self of her Commission, re­turn'd, and told her Mistress, that the Princess after she had walked a long time in the Park with the Mareschal de Gié, was gone home. Madam de Cominge, by an affected smile, stirr'd up in the heart [Page 47]of this unquiet Prince, the desire of knowing what she would say. Good God! said this malicious piece of Har­lotry to him, I am afraid of troubling you, therefore I beseech you release me from giving you an account of my thoughts; for besides that I may possi­bly be deceived, I must infallibly cause in you a great deal of disorder; I know by my self, that passionate and tender Souls do not find small faults in Love. These words obliged the Count to press this politick Factress for the Mareschal, to explain her self a little more fully: But after a great many Ceremonies, both impertinent and troublesome, she told him, that she did not believe that the Princess would strongly resist the Autho­rity of the Duke her Father; and that at the last conversation she had had with her, she had acknowledged that she was re­solved, without much ado, upon a strange Marriage. It may be, said she to him, that this very moment your impatience gives you so much inquietude, it may be, I say — but no, 'tis not for me to make so just a discourse upon this con­juncture; and since your heart does not advertise you of it, my precaution should [Page 48]be useless. I beseech you Madam, repli­ed the Count de Dunois, do not give off wholly overwhelming an unhappy man, in leaving him under an uncertainty of the Reason of his misfortune: Speak then, Madam, but speak sincerely; show me the Enemies I ought to oppose, and clear up to me a Mystery that I can un­derstand nothing of without you: What, said Madam de Cominge to him, you find a great deal of trouble in unravelling that which Madamoiselle d' Alenson might have prevented by her being here. You apprehend, that the time which she ought to spend with you, she casts away peace­ably upon the Mareschal de Gié, and ne­ver remembers her self, that you wait for her at my Lodgings. Methinks, conti­nued this cunning Gypsie, that having so much Spirit, and so much Love as you have, you ought to be more informed a­bout this matter. The Esteem and the Love which I have for the Princess, re­plied the Count, does so strongly defend her in my heart, that I have no mind to suspect her of a weakness, so contrary to the Opinion I have conceived of her Sin­cerity. But yet, interrupted Madam de Cominge, the Princess knows that the [Page 49]Mareschal is most passionately smitten with her, that he treats about her Marri­age with the Duke of Milan: She gives him the time that she had destined for you; you love her, you think likewise she is in love with you: Reconcile all these things, if you can, and see if your suspitions be unjust. The love of the Mareschal for Madamoiselle d' Alenson, re­plied the Count, shall never cause me to be Jealous; all things assure me, nothing disquiets me on that account; and had I but his Merit and his passion to over­come, I should not have much cause to complain. As to the Negotiation of Mi­lan, the little appearance there is that the Mareschal should succeed in that En­terprize, seems to resolve me of the E­vent, and should make him have an a­version for it, since it cannot but turn to his confusion; and for the love which I bear the Princess, it is of the force of that love from which I pretend to derive my safety, and the assurance of her Esteem and Friendship. I know very well, pursued he, that the appearances are against her, but if they accuse her, my love justifies her: You are very ingeni­ous to deceive your self, replied Madam [Page 50] de Cominge; or that I may speak more handsomely, you are a little too much prepossest, and can scarcely discern the different Sentiments that you create in hearts. Consider better—If I am ingenious to deceive my self, interrupted the Count, beginning to be a little yel­low; Madam de Cominge, you are too ingenious to ruine the little repose that is remaining in me: But neither to be­lieve your Artifices, nor my credulity in the case, I will take my leave, and en­deavour to inform my self better. To conclude; he left her, and went home, where he found Mounsieur de la Trimouille who waited for him, to acquaint him that he had seen Madamoiselle d' Alenson, and the Mareschal, walking together in the Park. The Count, who already had been told of this meeting, could not for­bear conceiving a new vexation, now he heard it confirm'd, and strengthened him­self in his suspitions against Madam de Cominge. He told the Marquiss the Con­versation he had had with her; and the Marquiss made him be of the Opinion, that it was an effect of the passion she had always had for him, and of the intelli­gence that was between her and the Ma­reschal. [Page 51]In the mean time, the Mareschal gave Madam de Cominge an account of his conversation with the Princess: I left her, said he to her, with the fear that I would reveal so important a secret to the Duke her Father; for as for the Dutchess, I have observ'd, that she by little and little begins to be of the same sentiments with her Daughter. I took then the surest way; I went directly to Mounsieur d' Alenson's, to whom I gave such a Relation of this Adventure, as I thought might be serviceable to my de­sign, and I suppressed what I imagined might be of prejudice to me, or which might render me suspected by the Duke. He seem'd to be much incens'd; and a little after he was come to himself, he took a resolution to be gone the next night after, to the end that, said he to me, I might give leisure unto absence to make its ordinary effect upon the heart of the Princess.

As I was speaking to him in the King his Antichamber, he thought it conve­nient to take his leave of him, and tell him the reasons of his so sudden a de­parture, which the King found very ju­dicious, and weighty. He departed from [Page 52]the Queen, who had been strongly speak­ing to him in favour of the Count de Dunois, and though what the Queen told him had great appearances of Rea­son, yet the maxims of State carried him above the compliances he had for her. So that, continued the Mareschal, you may observe that our affairs are in a pret­ty good forwardness for the establishing of our repose. Madam de Cominge, on her part, did not fail to tell him of the Counts impatiencies, and the little pro­gress she had made upon his heart; which made them both be of the mind, that the departure of Madamoiselle d' Alenson was the only Remedy they could find out to cure them of their afflictions. Whilst these perfidious Lovers were laying a­bout them, and plotting all these Artifi­ces, the Count de Dunois suffered all that a man was capable of suffering; for Mounsieur de la Trimouille, who had seen Mounsieur d' Alenson and the Mareschal in a great conference, and who afterwards saw them speaking both together with the King, made him conjecture, that his affairs were likely to be ruined. It was then that the counsels of this generous and prudent Friend were very necessary [Page 53]for him, to hinder him from punishing openly the secret offences of the Mares­chal; a thing that would have absolutely spoil'd the affairs of the Count. He knew not by which way he could instruct him­self in the interview of the Park, there being none but the Mareschal, and Ma­dam de Cominge, who knew positively the truth of it. He would not send ei­ther his Friends, or any of his menial Servants, to inform himself about what she did, for fear of doing any thing that might displease him. Not knowing then what to conclude upon, there came a thought into the head of Mounsieur de la Trimouille, which as you shall hear, by what will afterwards fall out, did hap­pen to him even according to his own wish.

Maisiere was a person suspected by none at Court; his Foppishness and An­tick kind of tricks, made him pass cur­rantly for an Extravagant Fellow: But Mounsieur de la Trimouille who was ac­quainted with him, by his having been serviceable to him in some former occa­sions and designs which he managed with sufficient prudence, imagined, that ha­ving free access every where, he might [Page 54]more easily make discoveries than any o­ther, of what past in the world, especi­ally at Madamoiselle d' Alenson's. The Count, who was neither satisfied of his discretion, nor of the safety there was in trusting him, could very hardly resolve to make use of him: But Mounsieur de la Trimouille having delivered him from those doubts and scruples, in giving him an account of Maisiere his conduct, they gave a Page order to look him out, but to do it so, that no body should take notice of it, and to bring him into the Count his Chamber.

The Page was not long in doing his duty, but quickly returned; for Maisiere continually earnest and follicitous to be acquainted with the Intrigues and Ad­ventures both of Night and Day, went from one Apartment to another, to hear News, and utter it again when he had done. As he was known to be a great Briber of Servants, there was scarce any person that had not once, or ostner, re­ceived something from him; so that Maisiere was not ignorant of any thing that he had a mind to know. The Page having brought him then to the Count de Dunois his Lodgings, he was surprized [Page 55]to see how Maisiere acquitted himself, in speaking to him with a certain brisk and assured countenance, which he ordinarily affected, and took on him a good manly figure, as the others did. He spoke all the fine things in the world in admiration of the Counts civility, who at last told him the service that he desired of him. If it had been permitted me, said Maisiere to him, to enter into this Secret without being called to it, I should have given you some instructions, which would not have been unprofitable to you. For Sir, continued he, I was with Madamoiselle d' Alenson's Women, when the Mareschal entertained her: I cannot give you a precise account of their conversation, but I know very well that the Princess was extreamly sur­prized to find him in that place. I know farther also, that she went away very much troubled, and more than all that, I know that the Mareschal, after he had look'd for the Duke d' Alenson at his own House, he met him in the Kings Anti­chamber, to whom they both spoke: When that discourse was ended, Moun­sieur d' Alenson went to Madamoiselle's his Daughter, where he has left behind two Officers, whom I am pretty intimately ac­quainted [Page 56]with, who have orders to look after her, and not to suffer any whoso­ever to come into her Apartment: which thing surpriz'd me, continued Maisiere, and coming to Madam de Cominge's to inform my self whence this so strict Guard should proceed, I understood that it was an Intrigue of the Mareschals, who appeared extreamly satisfied at it. For my part, I was not so for all that, not being able to find you in any of the pla­ces where I went, to discover the truth of this adventure. I knew not what to think when I met with your Page, who has happily brought me hither: I say happily, Sir, for it would be the greatest advantage that Fortune could procure me, in giving me a life to imploy in your most humble Service.

This Relation of Maisiere's, made the Count perceive that Madamoiselle d' A­lenson was Innocent still; but at the same time it comfirm'd him in the thought, that the Mareschal was otherwise, and both against the Princess, and him. Moun­sieur de la Trimouille could scarcely for­bear going presently and quarrel with the Mareschal, and punish him for the afflictions he made them endure; but the [Page 57]express Commands to the contrary of the Queens, kept him from doing it. The hour was then too late and unseasonable for him to discover the posture that things were in. After they had roll'd o­ver a thousand things in their heads, which thwarted and crost each other, they thought they could put nothing in execution till the next day. But yet after Maisiere had been sufficiently recompen­ced in hand for the service the Count hoped to get from him; he pray'd him only to observe what passed in the Duke d' Alenson's House, and what was done to and with the Princess his Daughter, which he promised him, and went away at the same time to discharge himself of it.

The Count de Dunois, and the Mar­quiss de la Trimouille, reflecting in their minds whatsoever they had seen, and what they had learned, were fully con­firmed what Madam de Cominge had be­trayed Madamoiselle d' Alenson, as well as the Count. The jealous suspitions that she fain would have cast into the Counts head to the disadvamage of his Princess, and all the conversations that he had had with her, did but assure him too much [Page 58]of it. It is easie to be imagined, that this thought did furnish him with a great many others more troublesome all the rest of the night; and if it was the custom of our French Heroes to make a great ma­ny unprofitable reasonings and discourses to themselves, the Count de Dunois had matter of reflection ample enough: But having thought fit, with the Marquiss de la Trimouille, that he ought not to take any Resolutions, but only upon the Or­ders that he should receive from the Queen, they left one another, to take, if possible, a little rest themselves. In all probability the Count had not much; for it is to be imagined, that he was seek­ing out the Knot and Mystery of this Intrigue, but the moment in which he was to find it was not yet come. It was not very long e're the day appear'd, and scarce did it afford so much light as to direct him, but that Maisiere was knock­ing at the door of the Counts Anticham­ber. One of his Servants was laid down there, and thought that Maisiere, as his ordinary custom was, did want a Bed, and was looking one to take an hour or two's sleep on, not having any one of his own that he was well assur'd of. After [Page 59]he had stood waiting there a pretty while, he opened the door: He said, he would speak with the Count; but it would not be permitted him, not thinking that he had any thing to say important enough to trouble the repose of the Prince, but he was so earnest and pressing, that he was forced at last to do what he desired. When he enter'd into the Chamber, and came near the Counts Bed, he told him that the Duke was gone with his Wife, and his Daughter. As he departed from hence, said Maisiere, I went to one of the Gentlemen Ushers of Madam the Dut­chess, who is one of my Friends, and pretending that I should stand in need of his kindness to let me pass the rest of the night with him; the Gates of the Castle being shut, he told me, that he did not intend to make any use of his Bed him­self, and therefore, with all his heart, he would lend me his Chamber, not only for some hours, but till he came back a­gain: I was very sollicitous with him to tell me where he was going: He answer­ed me, that he was waiting upon his Mi­stress, who was resolv'd for Alenson: I demanded of him, whether he knew the reason of their going thither, but I soon [Page 60]perceived they had not acquainted him with it; for there was not any thing that he would keep a secret from me. I betook my self to play with him an hour or two, and a Gentleman-Usher of the Dukes joyn'd in with us, and told us, without any bodies asking him, that the Journey was took only to deprive you of Madamoiselle d' Alenson, who, as was said, in all peoples accounts, had a great value and esteem for you; and because she was destin'd for the Duke of Milan, it was thought, that removing her from your sight, you might likewise be remo­ved from her affection. News came just at this instant to these Gentlemen, that Mounsieur d' Alenson was ready to come down from his Apartment: I got my self into the Court, where feigning to be light by accident, I came up to him to make him see me. You are diligent to be up so early, said he to me: It is late for me Sir, answered I him, making a ve­ry low Honour, for I am not yet laid down; but I may say Sir, 'tis extream early for you. It is true, said he to me, walking onward as he spoke, but I do take the coolness of the night, for I mean to abate and avoid the sultry heat of the [Page 61]mid. day. As he ended these words, he was got to the place where his Coaches waited him, getting up into his own, he said to me very obligingly, Adieu Maisiere, shall not we see you at Alenson? if you'll come thither to us, we will make you welcome: I assur'd him I would joyfully come, if he was pleas'd to do me the Honour to command it me: I pray do then, said he to me. All the time I was speaking to him, I had my eyes much upon the Princess, hers seem'd to look languishingly towards me, and when she past under your Windows, I observ'd her, and made her remark it; but she answered me with a nod of her head, which I did not look upon as a good Omen. She went into the Coach with Mounsieur her Father, and Madam her Mother, and I went to take my leave of the Princesses Women. I came softly to Madamoiselle de Rieux, who has been my very good Friend a long time; and in saluting her, I begg'd of her, that she would sometimes speak of you to the Princess: I spoke to her so much the more readily, because I knew she inte­resses her self mightily on your behalf, and she has the liberty to speak her [Page 62]thoughts. I durst not, replied she to me, the Princess has too much cause to com­plain of him; for instead of being in the Park, he spent the Evening with Madam de Cominge. Disabuse your fair Mistress, answered I her, for it was a trick of that Ladies, where Mounsieur le Count bore no part. I had much ado to tell her those few words, and should not have done it, had there not been something to set to rights about the Coach: when it begun to set forwards, I withdrew; and came presently to give you this advertisement. This was worse news to the Count, than if there had been a thousand Furies and Devils about his ears, particularly when he knew that Madamoiselle d' Alenson went away with a kind of an incens'd indig­nation against him. He ask'd Maisiere a hundred questions, to which he made as good Answers as his knowledge would give him leave. He ask'd him, how he had learned that it was an Artifice of Ma­dam de Cominge's, and that he had not seen the Princess. I know nothing of it exactly, answered Maisiere, but there is great probability, for the Mareschal and she have had a long conversation, which made me to apprehend the intelligence [Page 63]that is between them. The Count de Du­unois sent to desire the Marquiss de la Trimouille to come to his Apartment. He was not long before he appear'd, where he did his ordinary office of pro­ving a Consolator. At last, the Count said to him, I have no more to fear, since Fortune has not more to do against me: I love my fair Princess with all the ar­dour and tenderness wherewith a heart is capable of being filled: she has the good­ness to assure me, that I have an advan­tagious place in hers; I see again a thou­sand Innocent marks of her affection; I am protected by the Queen, and all things seem to be favourable to my de­sires; and yet I am the most miserable of all men; all these appearances have not promis'd me so great blessings, but only to make me feel the loss of them with more sensibleness: in this prosperous e­state I rested my self too much upon the happiness of my destiny, and have given mine Enemies a place to establish their affairs upon the ruines of my own. Things are yet in a condition, replied the Mar­quiss, that does not forbid you to hope; the Queen is for you. Alas! said the Count softly, the Queen is for me, it is [Page 64]true, but my Princess it against me; she is gone away in such a dangerous dispo­sition, that her anger, or absence, or forgetfulness, which is an infallible con­sequence of it, will banish me for ever her Breast.

Maisiere, for his part, was in a deep musing all this time that the Count had been speaking; but coming of a sudden out of his serious posture, Courage, com­fort your self, said be to him, it is not so difficult as you imagine, to re-establish your self in the favour of the Princess; Mounsieur le Duke d' Alenson has com­manded me in an invitation to come and see him at his house at Alenson; I will not only promise you to establish a most safe Commerce between the Princess and you, but I will ingage her to give you leave to see her, if an occasion does but present it self: Pray, in the mean time, be not you too boisterous and violent, but repose your self on your Love, and my cares to serve you, and I warrant I keep you, at least, from being forgot by her; for I will speak of you to her so often, as she shall have no leisure to ba­nish you from her memory. Though the Count de Dunois had his mind filled [Page 65]with vexations and inquietudes, yet he conceal'd them all, that he might not af­ford his Enemies any room to make their advantages by his perplexities and trou­bles. He appear'd with the King, if not with a brisk, gay, frollick humour, at least with a countenance that seemed as if it had nothing that disturb'd it; and the King spoke so many obliging things to him that day, that if he had as much pored upon his Fortune, as he did upon his Love, he ought to have been very well satisfied. He went also to the Queen, who flattered his afflictions with much kindness, and good nature, and for some time suspended the violence of them. During which, she spoke to him of Madamoiselle d' Alenson's departure, and that the Mareschal began to repent that he had caused her Banishment: He felt the rigours of that absence, which already gave him so cruel a persecution, that he was more than one time plotting in his head the means how he should get this Princess back again, with the same ardour and precipitation, as he had used to get her at that distance from him: But Madam de Cominge, who had as much reason to be afraid of her return, [Page 66]as the Mareschal had to desire it; told him, that it would be a means to make him suspected by so sudden a change; and so turn'd him off from thinking any more of it.

This was the time that the Mareschal confirmed himself in the Opinion he had always had, that Love was the Rock of Vertue, and the Enemy of all quiet and repose: His memory then furnished him with an Idea of all that his unjust passion made him do against his duty; and the pains he felt, began to prove his punish­ment already. Madam de Cominge was the only person that must know the secret of his stings and remorses; and though she made use of very powerful arguments to recover him, he could not without an extream melancholy, think how he was absent, how he was plung'd over head and ears in Love, and how he was most mortally hated. Whilst he was suffering all his thought to run out upon the re­flection of what was past, the Count de Dunois let all his go upon the foresight of what was to come: For in the conversa­tion that he had with the Queen, he per­swaded her to make use of her Authori­ty, to know from Madam de Cominge's [Page 67]own mouth the truths that he could not unravel, but very imperfectly, and the certainty whereof imported much to his repose, not to look any farther to clear up himself thereof. The Queen ask'd him what Interest Madam de Cominge could have to trouble his passion for Madamoi­selle d' Alenson; which put the Prince in­to a great confusion: for though he had a great desire that the Queen should be informed of the Sentiments that this La­dy had for him, yet he would have been very glad, that it should not have been from his mouth, that she should have learned it. Nevertheless, not knowing how to do otherwise, he told the Queen so many doubtful and suspitious things, that at last she did understand what mean­ing he was willing that she should put upon them: She promised him from that time to speak to Madam de Cominge. The Count withdrew into his own Apart­ment, to give himself a little liberty to consider in what condition his Fortune then was, when an Old Woman came and presented to him a Letter from Ma­damoiselle de Rieux. The Prince received it, but it was with a peck of troubles, for he shook when he took it, as if he [Page 68]had got the Cold Fit of an Ague upon him, imagining that he should find there the confirmation of his disgrace. After he had opened it, he knew it was written with the Princess her own hand, and read it in these words.

Having read it several times over, as to his particular, he shewed it to Moun­sieur de la Trimouille, who counselled him to inform the Queen of it, that so she might make use of it, to know of Ma­dam de Cominge what was so mightily desired to be learnt. When it was Even­ing, the Queen having called her into her Closet, she was scarce able to keep up that assurance that was almost natural to her: And the Queen seeing of her a­lone with her self, looked upon her with an Air full of Majesty: I wonder, said she to her, Madam de Cominge, that after I have so many times discovered to you, the desire I have for the Count de Dunois his Marriage with Madamoiselle d' Alen­son, I wonder, I say, that you should be [Page 70]so careful and industrious in opposing it; for indeed, it is unprofitable for you to think of denying to me a thing that I know for such a certainty: Also it is not to instruct my self about it, that I have called you here; but to know of you the reason that might have obliged you to take upon you the interests of the Mares­chal de Gié, against those of the Count de Dunois, being so well assured that this Conduct was contrary to my intentions. The Queen seeing that Madam de Co­minge gave her no answer, and that her confidence began to fail, by the confusion that appear'd in her face, Your silence, continues the Queen, does not suffice for the acknowledgment of your fault, I ask a sincere Declaration of it, if you mean to have my pardon for it; but I declare to you, that if you resolve not to do what I demand of you, I shall without doubt find out ways to make my self be obey­ed. Now if the confession of your weakness will be a trouble for you to make, that trouble that you will have by it, will cause me to excuse it; I will have compassion of it, and only blame what deserves to be punished. But still, once more, you must repair your artifice [Page 71]by a sincerity so free and generous, as shall perswade me of your Repentance. Madam de Cominge seeing that the Queen was resolved to be obey'd, flung her self at her feet, pour'd out tears innumera­ble, and appear'd so afflicted and sorrow­ful, that the Queen was so kind as to re­store her mind to a more quiet frame and temper, in promising to pardon her. Af­ter which, she gave the Queen an exact Relation of all that had passed between the Mareschal, and her; the Motives that had induced her to take up his Interests; the truth of the Assignation in the Park, and, in a word, all the secret of that In­trigue, and all others. But, said the Queen to her craftily, how would you have me that I shall believe you, and that I shall commit my self to your Loy­alty, seeing that in this procedure you have so often been defective in it? Ah! Madam, replied Madam de Cominge, it shall not be difficult for me to justifie the truth of my words, divers Letters which I have happily kept, shall be the irre­proachable Evidences of my sincerity. The Queen put many questions to her, to which she answered according to her knowledge; but when she came to de­mand [Page 72]what she knew of the Negotiation of Milan, Madam de Cominge assur'd her, that she knew no more of it than others did, and that the Mareschal had never made her enter into the depth of this con­fidence. It may be, said the Queen, you have not very much press'd him to it, for in the intelligence in which you are, 'tis not to be believed, that he should have denied you so small a thing, in a time wherein you did so much for him. It is true, replied Madam de Cominge, I did not much concern my self from whence the trouble came, provided that I had the satisfaction to stir him up to it. But Madam, I do without any Hesi­tancy own my Crime, continued she, and am ready to repair it by all the ways it shall please your Majesty to ordain me. If it be so, there is yet a way, replied the Queen, left for you to be re-establish'd in my Esteem; and it is, that after you have done all against the Count de Du­nois, so I would have you do all for him; what went formerly for an unworthy Ar­tifice, shall now become a commendable Address, when you shall act by my Or­ders, and for Justice. I will then, pursu­ed the Queen, that you give into my [Page 73]hands the Letters of the Mareschal, I will that you indeavour to discover the condition that the affair of Milan is now in; and I will lastly, that you do what ever you can to ruine the success of it. Madam de Cominge fearing nothing so much as to be banish'd the Court, and loving nothing more than to betray those that were so mad to put any trust and reliance upon her, did easily there­upon resolve to delude Mounsieur le Ma­reschal, and wholly to betake her self to the Interests of the Count de Dunois. She did not derogate from her character of Imposture; and her Perfidie only made her change the Object. She then promi­sed the Queen to do nothing for the fu­ture but by her Commission. And to as­sure her as much as she could before­hand of what she then promised her, she did deliver into her hands all the Letters that the Mareschal had written to her, which clearly discovered to her his love for Madamoiselle d' Alenson, and assur'd her at the same time, to squeeze out from him some more of them that should be more urging, and full of Explication. At last the Queen terrified her so to the purpose, and flattered her also with so [Page 74]much prudence, that made her fully de­termine she would never take any other course than this, which she knew, as much as she could do, was the safest. The Count de Dunois, after he had un­derstood this change, and knew of Ma­dam de Cominge the truth of this adven­ture, sacrificed his resentment to the ne­cessity he was in of her, and she promised him from that time forward to be of the number of his Friends; but she was not any sooner in a condition of acting ac­cording to her promise, but the Mares­chal fell dangerously sick. During the time that Maisiere began to dispose his affairs for his Journey to Alenson (I say dispose his affairs) for he had enough to imploy, I do not know how many per­sons; he was a Match-maker, and an Ac­commodater of Differences, he furnish'd with Menial Servants all those that had any occasion for them; he was known to the Ladies, and he suffered I know not what for them, by a thousand little ser­vices that he did them: and there was scarce any news, let it be as private and particular as possibly it could be, but what he knew of one of the first. In­deed he was something singular as to the [Page 75]manner of dressing himself: He did not affect to have his apparel quite different from others, but he shifted his Cloaths almost every hour in the day; sometimes like a Citizen, sometimes like a Cavalier, and always in a Fashion that was very ex­travagant and ridiculous. But yet this fantastical out-side did not keep Maisiere from having a good, solid, and piercing Wit, and that was capable to manage any difficult Enterprize: nay, to add to all this, he had a discretion that gave him the confidence of all those to whom he was known.

The assurance that the Marquiss de la Trimouille gave thereof to the Count de Dunois, made him fully resolve to com­mit at last this secret to him, and to send him to Alenson, to instruct the Princess of the condition in which things were then. The Count gave him both Money and Jewels, as well for his own occasions, as to gain him the persons he stood in need of to accomplish his design. After which he departed for Alenson, where there was need of the like succour, to dissipate the trouble of a solitude that was very disagreeable. He was received by the Duke and Dutchess with a great many [Page 76]assurances of their kindness, and much more by Madamoiselle d' Alenson, their Daughter. By good hap the intriguing humour of Maisiere was not suspected in this Court, because it was altogether un­known there; and he conceal'd it so handsomely, that he did not give the least suspition to any one of the reason of his Journey. He thought indeed, that Madamoiselle d' Alenson might have an im­patient curiosity to know what passed at Amboise, but yet he had a mind that she should desire it, and only said to Rieux therefore, that there had happen­ed a great many accidents since the de­parture of the Princess, whereof she would perhaps be glad to be informed. He understood by Rieux, that her Mi­stress desired nothing so much in the whole world, as to hear that the Count was Innocent. Rieux seeming to con­cern her self in his Interests, he did not fail of getting her over absolutely to him, by presenting her with a Diamond of no inconsiderable value, as coming from the Prince. She did make a great deal of stir to accept of it: But Maisiere, who was very well versed in the skill of receiving Presents, without ever putting himself [Page 77]to the blush by it, quickly instructed her to take that without making any scruple, or case of Conscience about it. The de­sire that the Princess had to hear the news whith most affected her, increased every moment, and made her, being one E­vening in her Chamber only with Rieux: I admire, said she to her, that Maisiere, who to often discourses with you, has not told you whether the Commerce be­tween the Count de Dunois, and Madam de Cominge, is very well established; if they do appear well reconciled, and satis­fied, and what the World talks of it: He has not spoke to me a word about it, re­plied Rieux; but on the contrary, he told me, that your departure has caused a general astonishment and consternation in all hearts; and ever since the time that you went away, he has not spoke with the Lady whom you now mentioned to me. It may be, Madamoiselle, that if you please to instruct your self about it, he will very gladly satisfie your curiosity: But I do not believe that Maisiere will re­pose any confidence in me, without you give him order for it: I shall then never learn any thing that I would fain know, said the Princess, for I am resolved I will [Page 78]not inform my self thereof: It may be, Madamoiselle, interrupted Rieux, you may hear of such things, as will by no means any way displease you: Well then, said the Princess, let him tell me them, without my ever being sollicitous with him to demand them. It is you, Mada­moiselle, replied Rieux, that must beget the occasion; for he will not venture to entertain you with it, if you do not in some measure assure him that you desire it. Heavens! replied the Princess, can­not you find any other ways to satisfie my curiosity, than by giving me the af­fliction of making it to appear? Rieux then perceiving what her Mistress would say to her, took upon her to ingage Mai­siere to what she so desired of him. But Maisiere, who was concermed to discharge himself prudently of his Commission, fearing to do otherwise than according to the measures he had taken, to establish an assured Commerce between the Prin­cess and the Count de Dunois, was not over-sollicitous to be in her company. He took his time one day that the Duke and Dutchess his Wife were in a Cham­ber by themselves in conference, where they would not have any thing to inter­rupt [Page 79]and disturb them; that day then Madamoiselle d' Alenson had a mind to take the Air in a very delicate beautiful Garden, that lay in sight of the Castle, with her Women, and Maisiere: He in­sensibly fell into discourse with the Prin­cess, and as she was asking of him how they diverted themselves at Amboise since her coming from thence: Those who are afflicted at it, Madamoiselle, answered Maisiere, have nothing further to make them grieve: And what is called afflicti­on, continued he, is in my Opinion, no­thing but the privation of some pleasure; but your absence has banished them all from the Court, and has made all those, who knew the worth of that blessing which they have lost, miserable. I know a certain person who is so sensibly touch­ed at it, that if this absence continues long, you will lose that person for e­ver.

Maisiere then a little while having re­frained speaking: And what, Madamoi­selle, went he on, have you so little com­passion of the evils that you are the cause of, that you will not inform your self who those are that undergo them? I did not ask you, replied the Princess, the [Page 80]names of those who were afflicted at Court, I would only have known how they do divert themselves there: Very illy, Madamoiselle, replied Maisiere pre­sently, and Mounsieur le Count de Dunois worse than the rest of the World, put them all together; not only for that your absence has made him become melancho­ly to extremity, but because he has that wretchedness of Fortune, as to be out of your Esteem: Do not interrupt me, Ma­damoiselle, and please you, said he to her, but give me your patience to hear what I have to say to you; learn, without ex­asperating of things, who does wholly deserve your compassion, and who is a­ble to undeceive you of the unjust Opini­on that you have conceived of the infide­lity of Mounsieur le Count de Dunois. But not that you should absolutely give cre­dit to my sincerity, see, if it please you, in this Letter, the Faith that you may take upon it. The Princess would not receive it; but fearing that the resistance she made might be taken notice of by her Women, and that they might suspect Maisiere to be of intelligence with the Count, she satisfied her self with the discovery whose the Characters were, by [Page 81]the Superscription, and permitted Mai­siere to convey it into the hands of Rieux. After that he told Madamoiselle d' Alenson the confession that Madam de Cominge had made to the Queen of her perfidi­ousness, the truth of the false Assigna­tion of the Park, and generally all that she was ignorant of, since the return of the King, even to the Mareschal his fall­ing sick. Maisiere easily perceived that this Relation was not displeasing to the Princess, who not absolutely relying upon his Loyalty, was a little angry at him that he had charged himself with this Commission, and forbid him, although very coldly, not to take upon him any more the like for the future. I will do more, replied Maisiere, for if you com­mand it me, I will never speak again of it in my life to you. I do not not say so, answered the Princess; but — as they were there, Mounsieur and Madam d' Alenson came so near the place where Mademoiselle d' Alenson was, that they were forced of necessity to break off the discourse, although it was extreamly a­greeable and pleasing to her. The Duke having demanded of Maisiere what he had been entertaining the Princess with; [Page 82]he answered him, that he was telling of her a very pleasant story which happen'd to him not long since. The Duke, and the Dutchess, desir'd him to begin it again, which he did without any kind of Hesita­tion; as Humming and Haughing, wring­ing of the Nose, and Spitting, and God knows what of that nature, which is the usual Ceremony that Ushers in such an Entertainment, but with a brisk and confident assurance he thus fram'd his dis­course.

Maisiere having thus concluded his discourse, Mounsieur d' Alenson, and Ma­dam his Wife assur'd him, that the History had extreamly diverted them. As it grew to be somewhat late, they retired to the Castle, where they were no sooner come, but news was brought, that a Courrier demanded to present to Mounsieu le Duc some Letters coming from the Mareschal de Gie. The time he took up in reading of them, Madamoiselle d' Alenson went to her Apartment, where she desired to be alone, to read the Letter that the Count [Page 108] de Dunois had written to her, and sent by Maisiere; and which he had put, by her order, into the hands of Rieux: if it did not contain these very words, I am sure it did not much vary from them.

What Maisiere had told the Princess, had begun already to disabuse her, and the Letter of the Counts did compleatly re-establish the former affection in her [Page 110]Breast. But she did only change her tor­ment; for the rigours of absence took up the place of her Jealousies and Dis­quiets, which had most sadly handled her ever since that she had suspected the Count de Dunois of infidelity. Her curiosity to know what the Mareschal had sent to the Duke her Father, made her quickly return to her Mother, who had a most tender love for her: This good Lady told her, that the Count de Dunois was out of favour, for having challenged the Mares­chal de Gié in the Anti chamber of the King, that the Queen used all her endea­vours for the re-establishment of that Prince, and that he was retired to his Lands in Normandy, till such time as it was allowed him to return. The retreat of the Count de Dunois, added the Dut­chess, gives the Duke a great mistrust, that he will some way or other endeavour to see you, or lay the Foundation of some correspondence with you. As to the Treaty of Milau, pursued Madam d' A­lenson, the Mareschal promises that it will be concluded within a Mouth at farthest. The Princess was much surprized to hear the Count was out of favour, but she could not but rejoyce to know that he [Page 111]was in a place which made him be still the more suspected. Moreover, she had the pleasure of seeing that Madam her Mother was in the same apprehensions with her, that her Marriage with the Duke of Milan would succeed: So that the Princess watching her time to make a compleat Conquest over her heart, told her all that her respect and her affecti­on could inspire her with, in protesting to her, that she should die with grief, if she was taken out of her sight but for one day.

The tender-hearted Lady could not answer this discourse of hers, she was in such a Flood of tears at it; which fur­nished the Princess with an occasion of telling her such things that her Modesty and fearfulness always had made her keep secret and private. The Confession she made to her Mother of the Esteem she had for the Prince de Dunois, did not sur­prize her so much as the audacious con­fidence of the Mareschal, that he should have dared to declare unto her his passion. She blamed her Daughter for not having complained of it; but she did excuse her self as well as she could, in telling her, that her Father was too much incensed, [Page 112]to be capable of hearing any Reason which might be to her Justification: Madam d' Alenson promised her to ac­quaint him of it, and that far from op­posing the affection that she bore to that Prince, she would defend it for the fu­ture. The Princess did not nevertheless think it her Duty to declare the true cause of the stay that Maisiere made at Alenson; but it was well enough for that time, that she had brought her Mother to that point which she had so long desi­red to do. And from that time Mada­moiselle d' Alenson reassumed her natural briskness, and pleasant humour: These happy fore intelligences re-establisht in her heart the tranquility and chearful­ness that her Jealousie had banished from her ever since her departure from Am­boise. During that time in which Mada­moiselle d' Alenson informed her self of the Exile of the Count, Maisiere on his part, received his news by an intelli­gence that he had in Town. He told this expert Agent, that he was in one of his Farms, not distant from thence above two hours riding, and ordered him to go to him, and take all possible care, not to give any cause of suspition that his [Page 113]absence might peradventure beget in the Dukes head, who of himself was very mistrustful. He received also a Letter for Madamoiselle d' Alenson, in which the Count confirmed to her the assurances of his Love, and desired her through pity to give him one testimony of her affecti­on to comfort him in his absence, not doubting but that she was recovered from the suspitions that she had taken up of his Fidelity. The Princess could scarcely resolve with her self to make him an an­swer; but at last she writ this.

Maisiere was very much satisfied that he had got such a happy effect in his Ne­gotiation; and without ever attributing the success of it unto Love, he gave to himself all the glory of it. Madamoiselle [Page 115]d' Alenson told him, that he might assure the Count, that Madam the Dutchess would not be any longer his Enemy in it, but that she began to act mighty strongly in his favour. The Princess then demanded of him how he meant to car­ry it, that so his Journey should not be suspected; but Maisiere referred it to her prudence, to instruct him in the manner of his Conduct. He departed the same day to find out the Count de Dunois, from whom he received a thousand mani­festations of kindness and affection; and Maisiere, to make himself deserve them, presented him with Madamoiselle d' A­lenson's Letter. He could with much ado allow the Prince a liberty to read it: You see Sir, said he to him, that the Princess is happily delivered from her Errour: It ought to suffice you, that there is not the least impression of it left in her mind; and without entering into the particulars of the manner, which I took to disabuse her, or trifle away this pre­cious time in unprofitable discourses, pray be pleased to instruct me in the oc­casion of your retreat from Court, and of your controversie with the Mareschal de Gié. Before I enter into this Relation, [Page 116]answered the Prince, you must tell me somewhat from the Princess, what are her Sentiments for me, and whether I ought not to hope that I may see her du­ring this her Exile, and mine; if it be permitted me, answered Maisiere, to judge of her heart by appearances, you have a great deal of reason to be satisfied in it, and I do not think that the hope of see­ing her should be forbidden you, but in like manner, I do not think that you ought to lay much stress upon a hope that is so doubtful. The Princess possi­bly may not be against it in her mind, but in all likelihood she will not consent to a secret interview; and it must be from some accident, or from some un­thought-of hazard that you ought to ex­pect this good Fortune: but to get it you, I shall be ready to contribute all my care and prudence. But Sir, because I have but a short time to tarry with you, pray be pleased to tell me what I ought to say to the Princess concerning those things that have happened to you. When you parted from Amboise, replied the Count, the Mareschal was sick, and was many days unseen; but as he began to be so well as to walk about, the Queens [Page 117]turn was come to fall ill, which indis­position would not permit her to stir out of her Chamber, nor to think upon any thing besides her recovery. As for the Mareschal, he had rather a little hazard his health, than leave me by his ab­sence the liberty of entertaining the King, and to act with my Friends for the ad­vancement of my affairs, and for the ruine of his designs. One day as I went out of the Kings Closet, where I had left him in a very kind and favourable hu­mour, I met with the Mareschal in the Antichamber, who was receiving there the Complements of all the Court for the return of his health: and then after, they were discoursing of the preparations that were a making ready for the War of Italy. Some one was proposing the dif­ficulty of the Armies passage: to which the Ma eschal bluntly answered, that he had provided for that. Your prudence, said I to him, most judiciously provides for every thing that may any ways be op­posing to my designs: but your Modesty is extream, to rob you of the advantage which you ought to carry away from so glorious a Negotiation. I seek no other, replied the Mareschal, but to serve my [Page 118]King: That is the least, said I to him a­gain, that appears to us: It is, answered he me, the only motive of all the actions of my life. Without examining your in­tention, said I to him, I will still com­mend you, when you shall labour-with success; but do it so then, as not to make me serve as a Victim for your Zeal; for setting the service of the King aside, I can easily make you distinguish my interests from yours. As I have non: that are common to us, replied the Ma­reschal to me, I know not what distin­ction I can put between them. Put one at least between your self and me, replied I, and seriously bethink your self of the distance that parts us; for I tell you once, that when ever you would destroy me in the Kings favour, to establish your self therein, I shall bring such an obsta­cle to oppose it, as shall not be very easie for you to conquer. A valiant man that does his duty, meets with none that can put him out of his way, answer'd the Mareschal. A valiant man, replied I, would not go in such a one as you do. Ah! Sir, interrupted the Mareschal, I have never any thing that can despoil me of that Title; and it is upon that only [Page 119]which I value my self to be equal with all those whose Birth have given them a place above me. The respect I have to the place where I am, replied I to him, does hinder me from making you know, that there cannot be any equality between us, and I should be ashamed — The Marquiss de la Trimouille; and some o­thers of my Friends, made the Mareschal retire; which he could not agree to, but with a great deal of difficulty. A little while after the King came out of his Clo­set to go to the Queen, where none fol­lowed him, by reason of her sickness. I was immediately surrounded by all those that were interressed in my concerns, to offer me their services, for which I re­turned them my thanks. As the King was coming out from the Queens Cham­ber, the Mareschal joyn'd with him, and laid open his cause so subtilly to him, that it was impossible to disabuse him, but that I was to blame, and it was in vain for any to undertake my Justification: All the grace that I received from the King in this occasion was, that he did not command me to absent from Court: but the Marquiss de la Trimouille, Montsaureau, and some others of my Friends, counselled me to [Page 120]forbear coming thither for some time. They would have followed me in my re­treat, if I had not judged it more neces­sary that they should be near the King for the obtaining of my return, and prevent­ing the Mareschals further ingratiating himself in the Kings esteem. I left to Mounsieur de la Trimouille the care of im­proving the Queens affection, and parted from Amboise very much incensed at the Mareschal; and, for I may say it, but ill apaid.

But the Marquiss de la Trimouille made me understand, that what the Mareschal did, being strengthened upon arguments that were profitable for the State, I should not have took that pretence to have quarrell'd with him; and that I had reason to be content in my disgrace, with the respect the King had not to make it more unpleasing. As soon as I arrived, my first care was to inform my self by you of my Princess, and of the condition I was in with her. You were but in a very ill one there, answered Maisiere, and Madamoiselle de Rieux, and my self, had a great difficulty to convince her of the er­rour she had conceived. After that, the Count put a thousand questions to Mai­siere, [Page 121]who told him all that he thought might any ways contribute to his repose. The good inclinations of Madam d' A­lenson, and the tender affections of the Princess her Daughter, did very much add to it. The night being already so far spent, as that the day began to appear, Maisiere urged the Count to dismiss him: He being not in a convenient place to write, did commit to this faithful Agent all that his Love could inspire him with, and desir'd him to make use of all his in­sinuations, to perswade the Princess to grant him a private Audience. Maisiere not presuming to flatter himself with the accomplishing so difficult an Enterprize, would not promise it to the Count, but assured him, that he would lay out the utmost of his abilities to procure it. He went away from the Prince with no small disturbance, for it was broad day-light, and though he was sufficiently disguised, he was extreamly afraid lest he should be discovered. He came back to Alenson, with his heart up at his mouth all the way, through the fear that had possest him, when he met with an Encounter that put him into the greatest plunge that ever he was in in his life; and it was [Page 122]within a mile and a half of the Town: He had already quitted his Horse, and was disposing himself to go the rest of his way on foot, when at the turning of a way that led up to the Dukes house, he saw the Duke, with all his little Court and attendance, in chase for the Wild Boar, who were already got so near him, as that he could by no manner in the world escape being seen, and met with: Now it was that Maisiere had need of all those witty turns, that he knew so ingeniously how to make use of. He re­posed himself a little on his disguize; but as it is an ordinary thing for Hunters to question all Passengers, he fear'd, and that with reason, that he should be asked something; and being obliged to speak, his voice would betray him. He had re­course to a resolution that was very singu­lar; for it happen'd that part of the Company having taken a false track in the Wood, they were divided and bro­ken; so that some of the Duke d' Alen­son's Retinue asked Maisiere, if he had not met them. At the first Interrogation he answer'd nothing, no more than he did at the second, only made a sign that he was dumb, and so made I do not know [Page 123]how many such extorted faces as those do that are so, to express the desire that he had to speak, which abundantly pro­cured to him the charitable benevolences of the Duke. Maisiere thought he was now delivered from that danger, when a little while after he met with the Dut­chess, and the Princess, who came up to him as fast as her Horse could gallop, and demanded of him if he had not met with Mounsieur the Duke. He used the same stratagem to her as he had done to her Father, he feign'd himself dumb, and past for such in the Opinion of all those that saw him: At last he got to the Town, and to his Correspondents house, that he had in it; he understood that the Duke had been in great Quest for him, to follow him to the Chase of a Wild Boar of a prodigious bigness; that a vast num­ber of people were gone along with him, and only he was wanting at the Diver­tisement. He was told by this man what excuse he was fain to make for him; I said, replied he to him, that you found your self very much out of order last night, and that I had kept you with me, and that you not having slept a wink all the night long, I was very loth to disturb [Page 124]you, being newly fallen into (as I thought) a sound nap, not knowing how much prejudice I might do you by it, or how much good you might get, if it please God to give you a sweet and con­tinued repose. Immediately Maisiere changed his apparel, and happily met with a horse, and set forward with such violence, that in a short time he came to the place where they set their Toyls. The Duke accused him of sluggishness, and Madamoiselle d' Alenson of being too neat and finnical, and there was scarce any body there that had not some such quar­rel with him, for being the last at a Di­vertisement, to which almost all the World had run with precipitation. Mau­gre the false Prognosticks of the Hunters, they took the Wild Boar, and returned to Alenson: but the Princess could not get any discourse from Maisiere; she only ob­served his eyes, the fear she was in that by his not being found, when the Duke had made such a search for him, there should come into the head of that suspi­tious Prince some Idea of the truth; but when the time came of his conversing with her, he did so pathetically discover his fear to her, that Madamoiselle d' Alen­son [Page 125]thought she had as much of it as she had had: Tell me, said she to him, how you parted from hence, and in what place you met with Mounsieur le Count de Dunois: As soon as I had left you, repli­ed Maisiere, I went into the Town to one of my Acquaintance, where I had habits of several fashions; I took one of them, with which I might be easily taken for a Peasant, I hid my hair after the best man­ner I could, and went all through the Town, and the Suburbs on foot, to a lit­tle Village which is not very far from it, where I found him who had brought me news of Mounsieur the Count, and this Man waited me with a Horse, on which I made all the hast I could, to arrive at a place which was a great way distant from any Road, it being a solitary Retreat of a Gentlemans, where I imbraced Mounsiour the Count), and where I learn'd of him what you now desire to know. Maisiere then up and told Madamoiselle d' Alenson all that which had happen'd to him in his Journey; he acquitted himself extraordi­narily well in perswading her of the Counts Passion, and she was very much pleased-with his Address: But when he came to propose to her the Interview that [Page 126]the Prince so much desired, it was not in his power to obtain it: What, Maisiere, said she to him, would you ingage me to suffer anew what I have suffered ever since the unfortunate day (or rather night) of the false Rendezvous? Do not you deceive your self there, Madamoiselle, replied Maisiere, we are not at Amboise; there are none here in conspiracy to be­tray you, and there are none in the world but a Jealous Mareschal de Gié, and a Re­vengeful Madam de Cominge: I own it, said the Princess, but Mounsieur le Due d' Alenson is to be feared every where equal­ly, he alone is more to be dreaded, than all the world together, and I am fully determined not to commit my self to a second misfortune, after I have had such cruel afflictions by the former; and Mai­siere could not obtain one from her, not­withstanding he used all the Oratory he was capable of. He was in hopes to get her to it in time, and many days past, in which the Count, and Madamoiselle d' A­lenson, writ to one another with all the passionate tenderness imaginable, and made it their study for to sweeten the ri­gour of that absence by a Commerce which they saw establish'd betwixt them: [Page 127]this was enough to free the Count from Desperation, though it was too little to render him happy. Maisiere was no bet­ter fatisfied than he, and he ought to do something more to fill up those Intenti­ons; for he desired that the Prince should have a particular conversation with the Princess by his procurement and Media­tion; and this design, for some days to­gether, took up his whole thoughts; but at last he found out this invention: One Evening he told the Princess, that he had seen at his Friends house a man that was admirable in the knowledge of things that should hereafter come to pass: He perswaded her to consult him, and assu­red her that she would be very much sa­tisfied with it. As the Duke and Dutchess were declared Enemies to this Science, and to those that made Profession of it, there was a great deal of consideration to be taken how this Astrologer was to be seen, without having any notice taken of it: but Rieux, to whom Maisiere had communicated the trick that he was re­solved to put upon the Princess, did find out a way for it, which was to have him sent to the Womans house, who was Wife to the Captain of the Castle, an intimate [Page 128]Crony of hers, and who besides had a great Curiosity upon her to know, whe­ther she should survive her Husband who was very Jealous, and whom she loved not for it (whether she deserved to have him so, I shall not concern my self, because it does not contribute to the making up of my story) This Woman was of one of the best dispositions in the world (a shrewd sign that she could the less with­stand the batteries that were made against her, as it is likely she had some, because she was very well as to handsomness) and there was only wanting the Captains ab­sence to accomplish their design, as to that part; but Heaven, which began to smile upon the designs of the Count, caused the Duke, who had a mind to go to Argen­tan, to see a stately house that he was building there, to carry with him the Cap­tain of the Castle, being very notable and exquisite in Architecture. Maisiere ac­quainted the Count with it, and desired him to come the next day, a little after the night was shut in, to his Friends, where he would wait him to inform him what personage he must represent: In the mean time he prepared the Captains Wife to receive the Astrologer into her house, [Page 129]and told his Friend what he judged was necessary, not to make him suspect the truth of the matter, the Count arrived, and Maisiere told him the stratagem he would use to procure him a conversation with the Princess: He took along with him a habit that was convenient enough for the person he was going to represent. What cannot Love do in a Breast that is strongly possest with it! This Prince, whose Eminent Quality saw very few superiour to him, and who by his Noble and generous Meen, had so much advan­tage over all men of his Age, the Prince, I say, whose Heroick Qualities raised him yet above all that his good Meen and Birth promised of him, this Prince quit­ted himself of his Eminence, to take up­on him a Figure so distant, as it was infe­riour to his own; in this condition he was received by the Wife of the Captain, with one Gentleman only, who went for one of his near Friends. This Dame was a great piece of a conceit of Province, and a little given to the vanity common to the most of her Sex, Gossiping; she had read all the Romances of her time, and could never speak, but it must be up­on some of the amorous or tragical ad­ventures [Page 130] [...] [Page] [...] [Page 130] she had met with in them: She pretended to give the Count a full disco­very of the delicateness of her Wit, and gave him a History of some of the Wo­men in the Town, and from thence insen­sibly fell upon the discourse of the Stars, and their influences. Maisiere gave her a signal that it was not time to discover her Curiosity, but she had not the talent to conceal it, and the Count found that he should be harrassed by her: For he was somewhat conscientions how he flattered the weakness of that poor Woman. Mai­siere had acquainted the Princess that the Astrologer was arrived, and she happened to come in very opportunely to interrupt the Captains Wife, who had already written down the day and hour of her Birth, to make him draw the Figure, and resolve those Questions that were as im­pertinent as he perceived her troublesom. There was very little light in the Cham­ber, and the Astrologer was put in a place that was most dark and obscure, that so Madamoiselle d' Alenson might come very near him before she could make any discovery who he was. Maisiere foresee­ing well the effect that this surprize would produce in the spirit of the Prin­cess, [Page 131]had handsomely got the Captains Wife into a Gallery, to give the Princess greater liberty to entertain the Astrolo­ger, and satisfied himself in leaving de Rieux, and the Gentleman, in that where the Prince and Princess were; the precaution of Maisiere was not unprofi­table, when she knew the Astrologer, and was going in hast to depart, but de Rieux, who coming near her, and prétending as great an astonishment as if she had known nothing at all of the whole busi­ness, help'd the Princess a little out of the trouble that the sight of the Count had pur her in, and made her consider, that coming so far, it would be a means to expose the Prince to a discovery in that place, to be gone with so much speed. Madamoiselle d' Alenson fell out with Mai­siere, de Rienx still stirr'd up her anger against him, easily perswading him, that he would not find it a difficult matter to get into her favour again; and at last de Rienx being retired, through respect, near to a Window with the Gentleman, the Count began to speak: 'Tis not Mai­siere, Madamoiselle, that, said he to her, up­on whom your anger ought to fall, nor is it me whom you ought to accuse for it, [Page 132]for the fear of displeasing you, should have triumphed over the passion I had to receive the honour of seeing you; but Madamoiselle, it is Love that has com­mitted this Crime, and it is to that only that you ought to impute it. Let it be of You, of Maisiere, or of Love, that I have reason to complain, replied Madamoiselle d' Alenson, it is certain, that this surprize gives me a very sensible displeasure, I will not tell you, that I should have been exceeding glad to have learned your In­nocence from your self, but when I only think of the peril to which you now ex­pose your self, that which should have given me an extream satisfaction, is the sole cause of an incredible affliction to me. Pray, Madamoiselle, reckon not at all upon the danger in which you conje­cture I am, replied the Prince, but give me leave to count you the villanous torment that your absence has procured me, and the unjust suspitions that you have had of my fidelity. I beg your pardon, said the Princess, if I did take up with Appearan­ces, and if I did condemn you, without giving you a hearing: but do not you refresh my memory either with my fault, or with the occasion that forced me to [Page 133]commit it, think only of the misfortunes that the imprudence I was guilty of in giving you an Assignation in the Park of Amboise has brought upon me. Think only, Madamoiselle, replied the Count, of of the joy that I at present do possess, of being able to consult you about my good or evil Fortune: 'Tis you only, conti­nued he, who can acquaint me with it. as it is your self only that can make it. If your Fortune was in my disposition, an­swered the Princess, you should have rea­son to be pleased in the share that I would make you; but the intentions of Moun­sieur the Duke d' Alenson and mine, are so repugnant, that there is no likelihood that the future should prepare us a more happy destiny than this, whereof we now complain. O! what will you have me then become, said the Prince, interrupting her, if I ought to pretend to nothing more favourable in the time to come, than I can now by that which is past. 'Tis your prudence you must consult, said the Princess, upon what you ought to do; but if you would know of me what I desire, I will tell you, it may be with too much freedom, that I would that you should love me always, and that it was as [Page 134]easie for us to gain the good will of the Duke my Father, as it was to obtain that of the Dutchess my Mother, to desire our Alliance. But Madamoiselle, replied the Count, do not deprive me at least of the comfort to hope, if you will have me live. Hope, live, and love me, replied the Princess, and after this do not beg of me a longer Audience: It ought to have ended long before, or to say better, I ought not to have granted it you at all. Well, Madamoiselle, said the Count, I will not diminish any thing of the favour you have granted to me, in obliging you by constraint to repent of it. I am going to separate my self from you, but after you have ordained me to live, to hope, and to love you; will you tell me nothing of the part I ought to pretend to in your heart? As I am not unjust, replied the Princess, I do not exact your affection, without giving you in mine all the part that my duty will permit me to afford you there. The Count gave the Princess a thousand thanks; and after that he had assured her of a Love and a Fidelity that was invio­lable, and that he had obtained of her the pardon of Maisiere, she went away from him: but scarce had she gone six [Page 135]steps towards her Apartment, but she saw the Captain of the Castle return'd, having left the Duke behind at Argenton. This speed, and this crittical time, did af­ford to Madamoiselle d' Alenson good store of anxious thoughts, for the Captain went but that Morning, and to see him come back the same Evening, one had reason to doubt, that there had something happened extraordinary to the Duke, or at least that he had discovered somewhat of that which past at Alenson: In this perplexity she was at a strange loss how to carry it, for to suffer the Captain to come into the Chamber, there was no thought of, the Count being in it, and yet was there much less to intrust him with this secret: But Maisiere, who was still admirable at a dead lift, said to the Princess; Without doubt, Madamoiselle, you do not think but that the Dutchess will be in an extream impatience, when she shall hear that Mounsieur the Captain is returned; Command him, if it so please you, to give you his hand, and lead you into the Chamber of Madam your Mother. Madamoiselle d' Alenson past with him along the same Gallery, through which she came to the Captains house, [Page 136]who made her very great Complements upon the Honour she had done to his Wife: He did very rationally imagine, that there must be some cause more than ordinary, which had brought her to make this Visit, but what it should be, he could not Divine. Whilst the Dutchess ask'd him the reason of his so quick re­turn, Maisiere caused the Astrologer to depart, without ever giving him leave to draw the poor Womans Horoscope, nor so much as precisely to reply to the great civilities she made him: She desired him not to take it ill, and being to tarry at Alenson, she could see him at a house there, where one of her special Friends lived: The Count departed, promising her not to lose any opportunity of discoursing with her; he was got to the house where Maisier's Acquaintance dwelt, from whence he departed the next night fol­lowing, and Maisiere came back in all haste to the Castle to learn how matters were carried there: All was very quiet and hush to all appearance, only Mada­moiselle d' Alenson, who was not retrieved from the fear the Captains coming back had caused her. He also was a little solli­citous and troublesome to know what it [Page 137]was that had obliged her to visit his Wife, but she could not tell what she had best to say: But Maisiere suspecting the perplexi­ty she had upon her, took on him to help her out of it. He came into the Cham­ber just as the Inquisitive Husband was affirming peremptorily, that his Wife knew the reason why the Princess came thither: It belongs to me, said Maisiere to him, to instruct you in what you de­mand, for it is to me that you owe the honour which you have received: One, whom I knew very well, passing by this way, continued he, met me in the Town, I did think that Madamoiselle d' Alenson (for, as I should have said before, I knew this Acquaintance of mine was very skil­ful in the Art of Prediction) might not be displeased to learn of him something of her Fortune; I imagined also that your Wife would be glad to know whe­ther you should have any Children, and what happiness should arrive to you from the Friendship that Mon [...]sieur le Duc bears you: But knowing that Madam the Dut­chess does not approve of this curiosity, the Princess to satisfie hers made choice of your Chamber: I am mighty sorry, replied the Captain, that I did not see [Page 138]this honest man: I am very much trou­bled at it too, replied Maisiere; but he was not gone above an hour, at the out­side, before you came. Well, said the Captain, and what has he said of our For­tune? That she shall be with-child, an­swered Maisiere, and that you will be ex­traordinary rich by the Liberalities of a young Princess; and that you will have but one Son that shall succeed your good Fortune. This good man was very much satisfied to hear all these fine things; the next day the Princess gave Maisiere a se­vere rattle for the trick he had plaid her the precedent day, and strictly forbid him ever again to put such another upon her. I desire with all my heart, Madamoiselle, said he to her, not to find my self in a condition to invent another stratagem, to make you see Mounfieur le Count de Du­nois, and that Heaven would condemn you in a short time, so that he might ne­ver quit you more. The Princess judg'd it very convenient, tha Maisiere should go to Argenton to see the Duke her Fa­ther: He demanded permission of the Dutchess, who was glad to see him in that mind; but he was prevented by the unexpected arrival of the Prince, who [Page 139]commanded, as he was coming in, to get all things in a readiness to go the next day to Court. He was accompanied by the Count de Montsaureau, whom the King had sent to him, to tell him the posture in which things then flood, and to hasten his Journey to Amboise. The Dut­chess, and Madamoiselle d' Alenson, were ex­treamly surprized to see Mounsieur d'Mont­saureau with the Duke: They were like­wise overjoyed at it, for he was a person of a consummated honesty, and who had never been in the interests that were su­spected by them. Mounsieur d' Alenson left him with them, and told Madamoiselle d' Alenson his Daughter, in passing by her, that she should return to Amboise with a better humour upon her, than that she came with to Alenson. As soon as he was gone, Mounsieur Montsaureau, not to let them languish any longer in their ex­pectation of the joyful and welcome news that he brought to them, began his dis­course in this manner, addressing himself to the Dutchess: Your departure, Ma­dam, was an equal surprizal and afflicti­on to all the Court; but the true cause of it not being known, the most part sought what should be your Inducements of it, [Page 140]without being able to Divine them, ex­cept a few persons who knew the secret. For my part I was not long ignorant of it, for the Queen did me the honour to de­clare it to me, and to tell me all she heard from the mouth of Madam de Cominge. The Count de Montsaureau gave the Dut­chess the particulars of it, and Madamoi­selle heard it over again the second time, for Maisiere had already given her account of it. After that, continued Montsau­reau, the Mareschal fell extreamly ill, and Madam de Cominge, by the Command­ment of the Queen, visited him daily. She perceived that the absence did most rigorously torment him; and that not being able any longer to support it, he was resolved to imploy all the Artifices imaginable to ruine the Count de Dunois in the Kings Esteem, and to make him be banished the Court; and after that, to order things so, that Madamoiselle d' A­lenson shoald be call'd back again to it. The Queen was not powerful enough to perswade the King, that Love and Policy was one and the same thing with the Mareschal; and the King was so possest with his affection for the good of the Nation, that she could never compass to [Page 141]undeceive him of it. He desired her that she would never more speak of it to him: The Mareschal being perfectly recovered of his sickness, the Count de Dunois met him in the Antichamber of the King, and gave him very smart reproaches before all the Court, and whereat the King was extraordinarily incens'd. The most sin­cere people of the Court did not forbear addressing themselves to him, and it was with a sensible regret, that his Friends saw him go from Amboise. By ill hap the Queen was then sick, and so not in a con­dation to act for the Count de Dunois; so that all our arguments were useless with the King. He had nevertheless this re­spect for the Count, to advise his Friends only to counsel him to retire for some time, not being willing to prescribe the place of his Exile. This departure did abso­lutely put a consternation into all hearts, and I never in my life saw the Court so melancholly. Besides, I perceived the King did but illy bear it, and that he many times call'd upon this Count, without thinking that he was at such a distance to answer him. We expected some happy Revolution which your Presence would give us and which would call the Prince [Page 142]back, when we heard that the Milanois had renewed the Treaty of Alliance with the Emperour and Ferdinand, and that they both joyned together to raise great Levies to oppose the passage of the King, upon the report that was noised about that he would return into Italy. The King had a great deal of difficulty to be­lieve this news, but it was confirm'd from so many places, that at last he had no far­ther room to doubt of it. He spoke of it to the Mareschal de Gié, and would have him responsible for the rupture of a Treaty, of the event of which he had so often charg'd himself. The Mareschal ju­stified himself, by a discourse full of flou­rish and Eloquence: But when the King demanded of him precisely what was the Conduct that he had made use of for this Negotiation, the Mareschal blundered heavily, for he could say nothing to his Majesty, which he thought would give him satisfaction. All that the Queen had told him then came fresh into his memo­ry; but his natural clemency, and the af­fection he had for the Mareschal, which was particular, made him yet for some time suspend his just resentment. Justifie your self, said the King to him, I would [Page 143]advise you, and I wish that you know how to do it: Let me be assured, that you did enter into Treaty with the Duke of Milan; what the Propositions were that you made to him, and the Reasons wherefore the Propositions did not take effect, after that I shall be content; and if there be any fault in you, I shall not impute it to the defect of your Zeal for my service, I had rather cast it upon your Imprudence, than upon your Infidelity. The Mareschal would fain have perswa­ded the King, that what he had heard was an Imposture, and not real. It may be at another time he might have done it, but his Loyalty began then a little too much to be suspected, to suffer him to relye up­on his word. Though the King did de­mand him, yet he made no positive an­swer. Being displeas'd then at his weak sincerity, he commanded the Captain of his Guards to go and seize the Mareschals Cabinet, and to bring it to him. I was in the Antichamber when it came by there, and I went immediately to the Queen, to whom this news was very pleasant, judg­ing, according to all appearances, that the King was entered into some suspition of the fidelity of the Mareschal, and that [Page 144]he did seek to be fully cleared upon it. She assur'd her self of Madam de Cominge to tell the truth of all she knew, when she saw a convenient time for it. In the mean time, the King had no sooner got the Ca­binet into his possession, but he caused it to be opened. He found there a Model that the Mareschal had drawn up to pre­pare their minds for the breaking off the Treaty of Milan. After that, he met with the Copy of a Letter he had writ to Sforza, in which he had proposed the Marriage of Madamoiselle d' Alenson with his Nephew; and let him know, that if he accepted of the Proposition, the con­clusion of it might be deferr'd for some years: He desired him to quit the Party of the King of Spain, and to facilitate the passage of the Army; but so wret­chedly, that it was easie to perceive that he had no desire to obtain what he seem­ed to sollicit for. There was yet another Paper fastened to this, which was writ­ten in Characters, and where the King could understand nothing, no more than he could of many others of the same nature that fell into his hands. It was not possible for him to get out any far­ther explication from the Mareschal, nei­ther [Page 145]would the King any more look into them; this suffices, said he, to make me, know the Motives that made you act: re­tire into your apartment, from whence I forbid you to stir out but by my orders. And you, continued he, turning to the Captain of the Guard, take special care that you suffer no person to speak with him. The King went alone into his Clos. set very much inraged against the Mares­chal: but the Queen did not give him a very long time to make his reflections up­on the crime, or upon the Criminal. She made some pretence to go and to inter­rupt his solitude, and to speak to him of somewhat else then of the Mareschal; but the King was not in a humour to begin a­nother discourse. He made to her his complaints of the Mareschal's perfidious­ness, he accused himself of having been pre­possest on his behalf, and told her all that his resentment could inspire him with. For all this the Queen did very well ob­serve that the King had still some returns that inclined him to clemency, and that if they had taken but a moderate care to ex­cuse the Mareschal, it would not possibly, have been a hard matter to get him estab­lished again. But the Queen, who had [Page 146]other sentiments, acquainted the King with what Madam de Cominge had told her, and of which he was not overwilling to be informed; and not to leave him a­ny room to doubt of the truth of what he had said, she shewed him the letters that made a full discovery of the Love he had for Madamoiselle d' Alenson, and of the fear that he was in that she would marry the Count de Dunois, Madam de Cominge added, that he had always spoken to her of the Treaty of Milan, as of a thing which he saw but very little appearance of. The King laid hold of the letters she shew­ed him; and as he was putting them up into the Mareschal's Cabinet, the Queens Curiosity carried her to read other Papers that she found there. In the first she met with onely the confirmation of his fault; in others she read some rough draughts of Letters that he had a mind to send to Ma­damoiselle d' Alenson,; but the last which her hand chanced to light upon being seal­ed, gave her a greater desire to read them. It was the Key of the Characters of Sforza's Letter, and that of the Mareschals. She made use of it to explain both the one and the other. The Mareschal did propose to him to accord the Articles of the Mar­riage [Page 147]of Madamoiselle d' Alenson, with the Duke of Milan, and to demand that she might be with the Dutchess Mother to the Duke, to understand the manners of the Country, and to cherish the love between the Princess and him, upon those condi­tions, he promised Sforza to deliver him up the troops that he commanded in his journey of Italy, and to enter with him into the party of the King his enemies. Sforza, who did argue with a more sound judgement, then the Mareschal, who only acted by the maxims of his love, and ne­ver consulted his Loyalty: Sforza, I say, would not by such a proceedure, put him­self out of a condition sometime or other to make his peace with the King, and pru­dently refused to make a particular league with a man, who without any reason quitted the Interests of the greatest King in the World, and from whom he daily received assurance of kindnesses: as also that having a design to ruin the Duke of Milan, and to possess himself of his Duke­dome, the propositions of the Mareschal were not at all to his purpose. I will not re-acquaint you, Madam, pursued Mount­sieur de Mountsaureau, with what a strange anger the King had upon him, and with [Page 148]his resentment of the Mareschals Treason; it would be needless. The Queen pacifi­ed him, as much as was possible, with that sweet disposition and prudence that was so natural to her: but she counsell'd him to thrust from him that unworthy object of his wrath, and make him prisoner in the Castle of Tours, and to appoint him his Comissionaries, who should by due process of Law give him his punishment. Which advice immediately was put in execution. The Mareschal his friends would fain have justified him; but the King imposed silence upon them, and not one of them durst speak a word more in his favour. Then the King called to him the Marquis de la Trimoville, and very obligingly told him, that as it was by his counsel that the Count de Dunois was retired from the Court, so he would make use of him to fetch the Prince back again, and made him immediately go about it. He commanded me at the same time to come and tell you this news, to dispose Mounsieur and you, Madam, to the consent to the Marriage of the Prince and Princess. Madam the Dutchess was so much overjoyed to hear of this happy change, that she could scarce express her self. It is easie to imagine that Madamoi­selle [Page 149]d' Alenson felt somewhat more sensi­ble and touching; but her modesty being yet greater then her joy, she did so hand­somely keep it to her self, that she did not make it appear so much as it might have been permitted her without any breach of vertue or civility. Maisiere could scarce refrain from going to find out the Count de Dunois, either to be the first should tell him the news, or to bear a part with him in the joy, if he knew it before he came; but Madamoiselle d' Alenson did not judge it convenient. In the mean time, the Mar­quis de la Trimoville, who went with all the possible speed he could, arrived at the Count's, where he could hear nothing of him, nor could he learn by any of the Ser­vants of the house what way he had taken. He spent some hours in the pains he took of thinking on which hand he had best go that was most likely to meet with him; but the coming back of the Prince deliver­ed him from that trouble. The Joy that he had to see Madamoiselle d' Alenson, and that he had yet the power of embracing a friend, who was so zealous and faithful in his service, made him let upon the Mar­quis with a Countenance that discovered all the pleasing transport imaginable: and [Page 150]the Marquis was resolved to overwhelm him with satisfaction in telling him what Heaven and Fortune had done for him, and what they had both done against the Mareschal. He gave himself wholy to the Joy of knowing that all things did prepare for him the possession of the Princess, and that he was going to reassume that place in the Kings favour, that he had former­ly been happy in. His generosity not­withstanding stirred up in his heart a com­passion for the disgrace of the Mareschal. He might possibly have been glad to put him in a condition to make him repent of his crime; but he did not demand so com­pleat a vengeance. Pity nevertheless gave place to the hope he had of enjoying a sole happiness which he had so long aspired to. The Sun was scarce risen, when the Count awaked the Marquis de la Trimoville, and and they both parted for Amboise. The Counts thoughts were onely to make all possible diligence to come to the King, who received him with very great and sensible testimonies of Joy and affection. He made him know at last in what a man­ner he was offended at the perfidiousness of the Mareschal. To which Mounsieur the Count did not answer like an enemy [Page 151]of the Mareschals, and if he did not take that care to justifie him, he did not make use of that occasion to compleat his ruin. After a pretty long conversation, in which he told the Count of the war he was going to undertake, of the affairs of the State, and of his most private interests; He fell upon the Marriage of the Prince with Ma­damoiselle d' Alenson I will, said the King to him repair the afflictions I have made you indure by the obstacles that I have brought to your happiness, and begin the chastise­ment of the Mareschal de Gie by the end of your sufferings, and by a stab in the most sensible part of his heart: I will yet, conti­nued the King, have you come with me to salute the Queen. To conclude, he present­ed the Count to her to whom she gave great assurances of her good inclination, The King moreover would, to oblige the Count de Dunois, go the next day a hunt­ing that way by which the Duke d' Alenson must come, to the end that I may be an eye witness of the Joy and contentment you will have of seeing your Princess a­gain. The beginning of this day had ve­ry favourable presages for the Count. It was a wonderful fair time, and the chase very successful: and yet for all that it gave [Page 152]him a great torment; for the day was al­most turned to night, when he perceived the Coaches of the Duke of Alenson. He came out of it, through respect, as far as he could ever see the King coming, who re­ceived him with a thousand demonstrati­ons of kindness and affection. There are none but those who have already proved the rigours of absence that can perfectly express the Joy of this return. The Count de Dunois and Madamoiselle d' A­lenson made a most agreeable experience of it at this meeting; and if they had not at first the liberty to express themselves of it one to the other, the delight and the sa­tisfaction of it was more sensible in their hearts. As the departure of these illustri­ous persons had infinitely afflicted all the Court, their presence did bring back to them all the Joy and the pleasure they had formerly took in it. The Queen had not as yet made so much of it appear, as she te­stified unto Madamoiselle d' Alenson for her return, and the likelihood which she saw for the Marriage of the Princess and the Count de Dunois. The same day the King spoke of it unto the Duke d' Alenson, who received the proposition as very advanta­gious, and returned the Compliment of [Page 153]the Count with a great deal of civilty and kindness that was very obliging. After the Ceremonies that were observed by the persons of this Quality, the Duke de Alen­son spoke gallantly to the Count de Dunois, and begg'd his pardon that he had been sometime so opposite to his desire, but the diligence that he would make to satisfie them should repair the fault that he was not alone guilty of. In short he gave commands to his daughter that she should no further stifle the inclinations that he knew she had for the Count de Dunois, since that within a few days time she should be in a condition not to refuse him any testimony of it. She blushed through modesty, but yet this Order, although it was sufficiently absolute, had in it all the sweetness in the World for her; and filled the heart of the Count de Dunois with a pleasure so ravishing that it is unexpressa­ble. The liberty he had then to make an open declaration of it, diminished nothing of the delicacy with which he resented it. Maisiere seemed yet to be more overjoyed than the Prince and the Princess, for whom all happiness and good fortune was prepa­ring, He was so liberally recompensed on both sides, that it was almost impossible [Page 154]for him to desire any more of fortune. But the King, not being willing to mingle any thing of heaviness with the publick Joy, instantly gave orders that they should suspend the Judgment of the Mareschal de Gié, who was kept up a long time in pri­son, as the History does credibly inform us. As for the Marquis de la Trimoville, he on his part made his Joy glorious and splen­did, by those various divertisements of his, that were as nobly invented, as they were executed and performed with magnifi­cence: but yet those pleasures, how great and weighty soever, ought to be accompted as nothing in comparison with them, which the Count de Dunois, and Madamoisel le'd Alénson compleatly tasted in the happy ac­complishment of their passionate desires, which had been all along as lawful as they were vertuous.