THE LUCKY MISTAKE:
A New Novel.

The River Loyre has on its delightful Banks abundance of handsome, beautiful and rich Towns and Villages, to which the noble Stream adds no small Graces and Advantages, blessing their Fields with Plenty, and their Eyes with a thousand Diversions. In one of these happily situated Towns, called Orleans, where abundance of People of the best Quality and Condition reside, there was a rich Nobleman, now retir’d from the busy Court, where in his Youth he had been bred, weary’d with the Toils of Ceremony and Noise, to enjoy that perfect Tranquillity of Life, which is no where to be found but in Retreat, a faithful Friend, and a good Library; and, as the admirable Horace says, in a little House and a large Garden. Count Bellyaurd, for so was this Nobleman call’d, was of this Opinion; and the rather, because he had one only Son, called Rinaldo, now grown to the Age of fifteen, who having all the excellent Qualities and Graces of Youth by Nature, he would bring him up in all Virtues and noble Sciences, which he believ’d the Gaiety and Lustre of the Court might divert: he therefore in his Retirement spar’d no Cost to those that could instruct and accomplish him; and he had the best Tutors and Masters that could be purchased at Court: Bellyaurd making far less Account of Riches than of fine Parts. He found his Son capable of all Impressions, having a Wit suitable to his delicate Person, so that he was the sole Joy of his Life, and the Darling of his Eyes.

In the very next House, which join’d close to that of Bellyaurd’s, there lived another Count, who had in his Youth been banished the Court of France for some Misunderstandings in some high Affairs wherein he was concern’d: his Name was De Pais, a Man of great Birth, but of no Fortune; or at least one not suitable to the Grandeur of his Original. And as it is most natural for great Souls to be most proud (if I may call a handsome Disdain by that vulgar Name) when they are most depress’d; so De Pais was more retir’d, more estrang’d from his Neighbours, and kept a greater Distance, than if he had enjoy’d all he had lost at Court; and took more Solemnity and State upon him, because he would not be subject to the Reproaches of the World, by making himself familiar with it: So that he rarely visited; and, contrary to the Custom of those in France, who are easy of Access, and free of Conversation, he kept his Family retir’d so close, that ’twas rare to see any of them; and when they went abroad, which was but seldom, they wanted nothing as to outward Appearance, that was fit for his Quality, and what was much above his Condition.

This old Count had two only Daughters, of exceeding Beauty, who gave the generous Father ten thousand Torments, as often as he beheld them, when he consider’d their extreme Beauty, their fine Wit, their Innocence, Modesty, and above all their Birth; and that he had not a Fortune to marry them according to their Quality; and below it, he had rather see them laid in their silent Graves, than consent to it: for he scorn’d the World should see him forced by his Poverty to commit an Action below his Dignity.

There lived in a neighbouring Town, a certain Nobleman, Friend to De Pais, call’d Count Vernole, a Man of about forty years of Age, of low Stature, Complexion very black and swarthy, lean, lame, extreme proud and haughty; extracted of a Descent from the Blood-Royal; not extremely brave, but very glorious: he had no very great Estate, but was in Election of a greater, and of an Addition of Honour from the King, his Father having done most worthy Services against the Hugonots, and by the high Favour of Cardinal Mazarine, was represented to his Majesty, as a Man related to the Crown, of great Name, but small Estate: so that there were now nothing but great Expectations and Preparations in the Family of Count Vernole to go to the Court, to which he daily hoped an Invitation or Command.

Vernole’s Fortune being hitherto something a-kin to that of De Pais, there was a greater Correspondency between these two Gentlemen, than they had with any other Persons; they accounting themselves above the rest of the World, believed none so proper and fit for their Conversation, as that of each other: so that there was a very particular Intimacy between them. Whenever they went abroad, they clubb’d their Train, to make one great Show; and were always together, bemoaning each other’s Fortune, and that from so high a Descent, as one from Monarchs by the Mother’s side, and the other from Dukes of the Father’s Side, they were reduc’d by Fate to the Degree of private Gentlemen. They would often consult how to manage Affairs most to Advantage, and often De Pais would ask Counsel of Vernole, how best he should dispose of his Daughters, which now were about their ninth Year the eldest, and eighth the youngest. Vernole had often seen those two Buds of Beauty, and already saw opening in Atlante’s Face and Mind (for that was the Name of the eldest, and Charlot the youngest) a Glory of Wit and Beauty, which could not but one Day display it self, with dazling Lustre, to the wondring World.

Vernole was a great Virtuoso, of a Humour nice, delicate, critical and opinionative: he had nothing of the French Mein in him, but all the Gravity of the Don. His ill-favour’d Person, and his low Estate, put him out of Humour with the World; and because that should not upbraid or reproach his Follies and Defects, he was sure to be beforehand with that, and to be always satirick upon it; and lov’d to live and act contrary to the Custom and Usage of all Mankind besides.

He was infinitely delighted to find a Man of his own Humour in De Pais, or at least a Man that would be persuaded to like his so well, to live up to it; and it was no little Joy and Satisfaction to him to find, that he kept his Daughters in that Severity, which was wholly agreeable to him, and so contrary to the Manner and Fashion of the French Quality; who allow all Freedoms, which to Vernole’s rigid Nature, seem’d as so many Steps to Vice, and in his Opinion, the Ruiner of all Virtue and Honour in Womankind. De Pais was extremely glad his Conduct was so well interpreted, which was no other in him than a proud Frugality; who, because they could not appear in so much Gallantry as their Quality required, kept ’em retir’d, and unseen to all, but his particular Friends, of whom Vernole was the chief.

Vernole never appear’d before Atlante (which was seldom) but he assum’d a Gravity and Respect fit to have entertain’d a Maid of Twenty, or rather a Matron of much greater Years and Judgment. His Discourses were always of Matters of State or Philosophy; and sometimes when De Pais would (laughing) say, ‘He might as well entertain Atlante with Greek and Hebrew,’ he would reply gravely, ‘You are mistaken, Sir, I find the Seeds of great and profound Matter in the Soul of this young Maid, which ought to be nourish’d now while she is young, and they will grow up to very great Perfection: I find Atlante capable of the noble Virtues of the Mind, and am infinitely mistaken in my Observations, and Art of Physiognomy, if Atlante be not born for greater Things than her Fortune does now Promise: She will be very considerable in the World, (believe me) and this will arrive to her perfectly from the Force of her Charms.’ De Pais was extremely overjoy’d to hear such Good prophesied of Atlante, and from that Time set a sort of an Esteem upon her, which he did not on Charlot his younger; whom, by the Persuasions of Vernole, he resolv’d to put in a Monastery, that what he had might descend to Atlante: not but he confess’d Charlot had Beauty extremely attractive, and a Wit that promised much, when it should be cultivated by Years and Experience; and would shew it self with great Advantage and Lustre in a Monastery. All this pleased De Pais very well, who was easily persuaded, since he had not a Fortune to marry her well in the World.

As yet Vernole had never spoke to Atlante of Love, nor did his Gravity think it Prudence to discover his Heart to so young a Maid; he waited her more sensible Years, when he could hope to have some Return. And all he expected from this her tender Age, was by his daily Converse with her, and the Presents he made her suitable to her Years, to ingratiate himself insensibly into her Friendship and Esteem, since she was not yet capable of Love; but even in that he mistook his Aim, for every day he grew more and more disagreeable to Atlante, and would have been her absolute Aversion, had she known she had every Day entertained a Lover; but as she grew in Years and Sense, he seemed the more despicable in her Eyes as to his Person; yet as she had respect to his Parts and Qualities, she paid him all the Complaisance she could, and which was due to him, and so must be confess’d. Tho’ he had a stiff Formality in all he said and did, yet he had Wit and Learning, and was a great Philosopher. As much of his Learning as Atlante was capable of attaining to, he made her Mistress of, and that was no small Portion; for all his Discourse was fine and easily comprehended, his Notions of Philosophy fit for Ladies; and he took greater Pains with Atlante, than any Master would have done with a Scholar: So that it was most certain, he added very great Accomplishment to her natural Wit: and the more, because she took a great Delight in Philosophy; which very often made her impatient of his Coming, especially when she had many Questions to ask him concerning it, and she would often receive him with a Pleasure in her Face, which he did not fail to interpret to his own Advantage, being very apt to flatter himself. Her Sister Charlot would often ask her, ‘How she could give whole Afternoons to so disagreeable a Man. What is it (said she) that charms you so? his tawny Leather-Face, his extraordinary high Nose, his wide Mouth and Eye-brows, that hang low’ring over his Eyes, his lean Carcase, and his lame and halting Hips?’ But Atlante would discreetly reply, ‘If I must grant all you say of Count Vernole to be true, yet he has a Wit and Learning that will atone sufficiently for all those Faults you mention: A fine Soul is infinitely to be preferr’d to a fine Body; this decays, but that’s eternal; and Age that ruins one, refines the other.’ Tho’ possibly Atlante thought as ill of the Count as her Sister, yet in Respect to him, she would not own it.

Atlante was now arriv’d to her thirteenth Year, when her Beauty, which every Day increas’d, became the Discourse of the whole Town, which had already gain’d her as many Lovers as had beheld her; for none saw her without languishing for her, or at least, but what were in very great Admiration of her. Every body talk’d of the young Atlante, and all the Noblemen, who had Sons (knowing the Smallness of her Fortune, and the Lustre of her Beauty) would send them, for fear of their being charm’d with her Beauty, either to some other part of the World, or exhorted them, by way of Precaution, to keep out of her Sight. Old Bellyaurd was one of those wise Parents; and timely Prevention, as he thought, of Rinaldo’s falling in Love with Atlante, perhaps was the Occasion of his being so: He had before heard of Atlante, and of her Beauty, yet it had made no Impressions on his Heart; but his Father no sooner forbid him Loving, than he felt a new Desire tormenting him, of seeing this lovely and dangerous young Person: he wonders at his unaccountable Pain, which daily sollicits him within, to go where he may behold this Beauty; of whom he frames a thousand Ideas, all such as were most agreeable to him; but then upbraids his Fancy for not forming her half so delicate as she was; and longs yet more to see her, to know how near she approaches to the Picture he has drawn of her in his Mind: and tho’ he knew she liv’d the next House to him, yet he knew also she was kept within like a vow’d Nun, or with the Severity of a Spaniard. And tho’ he had a Chamber, which had a jutting Window, that look’d just upon the Door of Monsieur De Pais, and that he would watch many Hours at a time, in hope to see them go out, yet he could never get a Glimpse of her; yet he heard she often frequented the Church of our Lady. Thither then young Rinaldo resolv’d to go, and did so two or three Mornings; in which time, to his unspeakable Grief, he saw no Beauty appear that charm’d him; and yet he fancy’d that Atlante was there, and that he had seen her; that some one of those young Ladies that he saw in the Church was she, tho’ he had no body to enquire of, and that she was not so fair as the World reported; for which he would often sigh, as if he had lost some great Expectation. However, he ceased not to frequent this Church, and one day saw a young Beauty, who at first glimpse made his Heart leap to his Mouth, and fall a trembling again into its wonted Place; for it immediately told him, that that young Maid was Atlante: she was with her Sister Charlot, who was very handsome, but not comparable to Atlante. He fix’d his Eyes upon her as she kneel’d at the Altar; he never moved from that charming Face as long as she remain’d there; he forgot all Devotion, but what he paid to her; he ador’d her, he burnt and languished already for her, and found he must possess Atlante or die. Often as he gaz’d upon her, he saw her fair Eyes lifted up towards his, where they often met; which she perceiving, would cast hers down into her Bosom, or on her Book, and blush as if she had done a Fault. Charlot perceiv’d all the Motions of Rinaldo, how he folded his Arms, how he sigh’d and gaz’d on her Sister; she took notice of his Clothes, his Garniture, and every particular of his Dress, as young Girls use to do; and seeing him so very handsome, and so much better dress’d than all the young Cavaliers that were in the Church, she was very much pleas’d with him; and could not forbear saying, in a low Voice, to Atlante, ‘Look, look my Sister, what a pretty Monsieur yonder is! see how fine his Face is, how delicate his Hair, how gallant his Dress! and do but look how he gazes on you!’ This would make Atlante blush anew, who durst not raise her Eyes for fear she should encounter his. While he had the Pleasure to imagine they were talking of him, and he saw in the pretty Face of Charlot, that what she said was not to his Disadvantage, and by the Blushes of Atlante, that she was not displeas’d with what was spoken to her; he perceiv’d the young one importunate with her; and Atlante jogging her with her Elbow, as much as to say, Hold your Peace: all this he made a kind Interpretation of, and was transported with Joy at the good Omens. He was willing to flatter his new Flame, and to compliment his young Desire with a little Hope; but the divine Ceremony ceasing, Atlante left the Church, and it being very fair Weather, she walk’d home. Rinaldo, who saw her going, felt all the Agonies of a Lover, who parts with all that can make him happy; and seeing only Atlante attended with her Sister, and a Footman following with their Books, he was a thousand times about to speak to ’em; but he no sooner advanc’d a step or two towards ’em to that purpose (for he followed them) but his Heart fail’d, and a certain Awe and Reverence, or rather the Fears and Tremblings of a Lover, prevented him: but when he consider’d, that possibly he might never have so favourable an Opportunity again, he resolv’d a-new, and called up so much Courage to his Heart, as to speak to Atlante; but before he did so, Charlot looking behind her, saw Rinaldo very near to ’em, and cry’d out with a Voice of Joy, ‘Oh! Sister, Sister! look where the handsome Monsieur is, just behind us! sure he is some-body of Quality, for see he has two Footmen that follow him, in just such Liveries, and so rich as those of our Neighbour Monsieur Bellyaurd.’ At this Atlante could not forbear, but before she was aware of it, turn’d her Head, and look’d on Rinaldo; which encourag’d him to advance, and putting off his Hat, which he clapt under his Arm, with a low Bow, said, ‘Ladies, you are slenderly attended, and so many Accidents arrive to the Fair in the rude Streets, that I humbly implore you will permit me, whose Duty it is as a Neighbour, to wait on you to your Door.’ ‘Sir, (said Atlante blushing) we fear no Insolence, and need no Protector; or if we did, we should not be so rude to take you out of your way, to serve us.’ ‘Madam, (said he) my way lies yours. I live at the next Door, and am Son to Bellyaurd, your Neighbour. But, Madam, (added he) if I were to go all my Life out of the way, to do you Service, I should take it for the greatest Happiness that could arrive to me; but, Madam, sure a Man can never be out of his Way, who has the Honour of so charming Company.’ Atlante made no reply to this, but blush’d and bow’d: But Charlot said, ‘Nay, Sir, if you are our Neighbour, we will give you leave to conduct us home; but pray, Sir, how came you to know we are your Neighbours? for we never saw you before, to our knowledge.’ ‘My pretty Miss, (reply’d Rinaldo) I knew it from that transcendent Beauty that appear’d in your Faces, and fine Shapes; for I have heard, there was no Beauty in the World like that of Atlante’s; and I no sooner saw her, but my Heart told me it was she.’ ‘Heart! (said Charlot laughing) why, do Hearts use to speak?’ ‘The most intelligible of any thing, (Rinaldo reply’d) when ’tis tenderly touch’d, when ’tis charm’d and transported.’ At these Words he sigh’d, and Atlante, to his extreme Satisfaction, blush’d. ‘Touch’d, charm’d, and transported, (said Charlot) what’s that? And how do you do to have it be all these things? For I would give any thing in the World to have my Heart speak.’ ‘Oh! (said Rinaldo) your Heart is too young, it is not yet arrived to the Years of Speaking; about thirteen or fourteen, it may possibly be saying a thousand soft things to you; but it must be first inspir’d by some noble Object, whose Idea it must retain.’ ‘What (reply’d the pretty Prattler) I’ll warrant I must be in Love?’ ‘Yes, (said Rinaldo) most passionately, or you will have but little Conversation with your Heart.’ ‘Oh! (reply’d she) I am afraid the Pleasure of such a Conversation, will not make me amends for the Pain that Love will give me.’ ‘That (said Rinaldo) is according as the Object is kind, and as you hope; if he love, and you hope, you will have double Pleasure: And in this, how great an Advantage have fair Ladies above us Men! ’Tis always impossible for you to love in vain, you have your Choice of a thousand Hearts, which you have subdu’d, and may not only chuse your Slaves, but be assur’d of ’em; without speaking, you are belov’d, it needs not cost you a Sigh or a Tear: But unhappy Man is often destin’d to give his Heart, where it is not regarded, to sigh, to weep, and languish, without any hope of Pity.’ ‘You speak so feelingly, Sir, (said Charlot) that I am afraid this is your Case.’ ‘Yes, Madam, (reply’d Rinaldo, sighing) I am that unhappy Man.’ ‘Indeed it is pity (said she.) Pray, how long have you been so?’ ‘Ever since I heard of the charming Atlante, (reply’d he, sighing again) I ador’d her Character; but now I have seen her, I die for her.’ ‘For me, Sir! (said Atlante, who had not yet spoke) this is the common Compliment of all the young Men, who pretend to be Lovers; and if one should pity all those Sighers, we should have but very little left for our selves.’ ‘I believe (said Rinaldo) there are none that tell you so, who do not mean as they say: Yet among all those Adorers, and those who say they will die for you, you will find none will be so good as their Words but Rinaldo.’ ‘Perhaps (said Atlante) of all those who tell me of Dying, there are none that tell me of it with so little Reason as Rinaldo, if that be your Name, Sir.’ ‘Madam, it is, (said he) and who am transported with an unspeakable Joy, to hear those last Words from your fair Mouth: and let me, Oh lovely Atlante! assure you, that what I have said, are not Words of course, but proceed from a Heart that has vow’d it self eternally yours, even before I had the Happiness to behold this divine Person; but now that my Eyes have made good all my Heart before imagin’d, and did but hope, I swear, I will die a thousand Deaths, rather than violate what I have said to you; that I adore you; that my Soul and all my Faculties, are charm’d with your Beauty and Innocence, and that my Life and Fortune, not inconsiderable, shall be laid at your Feet.’ This he spoke with a Fervency of Passion, that left her no Doubt of what he had said; yet she blush’d for Shame, and was a little angry at her self, for suffering him to say so much to her, the very first time she saw him, and accused her self for giving him any Encouragement: And in this Confusion she replied, ‘Sir, you have said too much to be believ’d; and I cannot imagine so short an Acquaintance can make so considerable an Impression; of which Confession I accuse my self much more than you, in that I did not only hearken to what you said, without forbidding you to entertain me at that rate, but for unheedily speaking something, that has encourag’d this Boldness; for so I must call it, in a Man so great a Stranger to me.’ ‘Madam (said he) if I have offended by the Suddenness of my presumptuous Discovery, I beseech you to consider my Reasons for it, the few Opportunities I am like to have, and the Impossibility of waiting on you, both from the Severity of your Father and mine; who, ere I saw you, warn’d me of my Fate, as if he foresaw I should fall in love, as soon as I should chance to see you; and for that Reason has kept me closer to my Studies, than hitherto I have been. And from that time I began to feel a Flame, which was kindled by Report alone, and the Description my Father gave of your wondrous and dangerous Beauty: Therefore, Madam, I have not suddenly told you of my Passion. I have been long your Lover, and have long languish’d without telling of my Pain; and you ought to pardon it now, since it is done with all the Respect and religious Awe, that ’tis possible for a Heart to deliver and unload it self in; therefore, Madam, if you have by chance uttered any thing, that I have taken Advantage or Hope from, I assure you ’tis so small, that you have no reason to repent it; but rather, if you would have me live, send me not from you, without a Confirmation of that little Hope. See, Madam, (said he, more earnestly and trembling) see we are almost arriv’d at our Homes, send me not to mine in a Despair that I cannot support with Life; but tell me, I shall be bless’d with your Sight, sometimes in your Balcony, which is very near to a jetting Window in our House, from whence I have sent many a longing Look towards yours, in hope to have seen my Soul’s Tormentor.’ ‘I shall be very unwilling (said she) to enter into an Intrigue of Love or Friendship with a Man, whose Parents will be averse to my Happiness, and possibly mine as refractory, tho’ they cannot but know such an Alliance would be very considerable, my Fortune not being suitable to yours: I tell you this, that you may withdraw in time from an Engagement, in which I find there will be a great many Obstacles.’ ‘Oh! Madam, (reply’d Rinaldo, sighing) if my Person be not disagreeable to you, you will have no occasion to fear the rest; ’tis that I dread, and that which is all my Fear.’ He, sighing, beheld her with a languishing Look, that told her, he expected her Answer; when she reply’d, ‘Sir, if that will be Satisfaction enough for you at this time, I do assure you, I have no Aversion for your Person, in which I find more to be valu’d, than in any I have yet seen; and if what you say be real, and proceed from a Heart truly affected, I find, in spite of me, you will oblige me to give you Hope.’

They were come so near their own Houses, that he had not time to return her any Answer; but with a low Bow he acknowledg’d her Bounty, and express’d the Joy her last Words had given him, by a Look that made her understand he was charm’d and pleas’d; and she bowing to him with an Air of Satisfaction in her Face, he was well assur’d, there was nothing to be seen so lovely as she then appear’d, and left her to go into her own House: but till she was out of sight, he had not power to stir, and then sighing, retired to his own Apartment, to think over all that had past between them. He found nothing but what gave him a thousand Joys, in all she had said; and he blest this happy Day, and wondred how his Stars came so kind, to make him in one hour at once see Atlante, and have the happiness to know from her Mouth, that he was not disagreeable to her: Yet with this Satisfaction, he had a thousand Thoughts mix’d which were tormenting, and those were the Fear of their Parents; he foresaw from what his Father had said to him already, that it would be difficult to draw him to a Consent of his Marriage with Atlante. These Joys and Fears were his Companions all the Night, in which he took but little Rest. Nor was Atlante without her Inquietudes: She found Rinaldo more in her Thoughts than she wish’d, and a sudden Change of Humour, that made her know something was the matter with her more than usual; she calls to mind Rinaldo’s speaking of the Conversation with his Heart, and found hers would be tattling to her, if she would give way to it; and yet the more she strove to avoid it, the more it importun’d her, and in spight of all her Resistance, would tell her, that Rinaldo had a thousand Charms: It tells her, that he loves and adores her, and that she would be the most cruel of her Sex, should she not be sensible of his Passion. She finds a thousand Graces in his Person and Conversation, and as many Advantages in his Fortune, which was one of the most considerable in all those Parts; for his Estate exceeded that of the most Noble Men in Orleans, and she imagines she should be the most fortunate of all Womankind in such a Match. With these Thoughts she employ’d all the Hours of the Night; so that she lay so long in Bed the next Day, that Count Vernole, who had invited himself to Dinner, came before she had quitted her Chamber, and she was forc’d to say, she had not been well. He had brought her a very fine Book, newly come out, of delicate Philosophy, fit for the Study of Ladies. But he appear’d so disagreeable to that Heart, wholly taken up with a new and fine Object, that she could now hardly pay him that Civility she was wont to do; while on the other side that little State and Pride Atlante assum’d, made her appear the more charming to him: so that if Atlante had no mind to begin a new Lesson of Philosophy, while she fancied her Thoughts were much better employ’d, the Count every moment expressing his Tenderness and Passion, had as little an Inclination to instruct her, as she had to be instructed: Love had taught her a new Lesson, and he would fain teach her a new Lesson of Love, but fears it will be a diminishing his Gravity and Grandeur, to open the Secrets of his Heart to so young a Maid; he therefore thinks it more agreeable to his Quality and Years, being about Forty, to use her Father’s Authority in this Affair, and that it was sufficient for him to declare himself to Monsieur De Pais, who he knew would be proud of the Honour he did him. Some time past, before he could be persuaded even to declare himself to her Father: he fancies the little Coldness and Pride he saw in Atlante’s Face, which was not usual, proceeded from some Discovery of Passion, which his Eyes had made, or now and then a Sigh, that unawares broke forth; and accuses himself of a Levity below his Quality, and the Dignity of his Wit and Gravity; and therefore assumes a more rigid and formal Behaviour than he was wont, which rendred him yet more disagreeable than before; and ’twas with greater Pain than ever, she gave him that Respect which was due to his Quality.

Rinaldo, after a restless Night, was up very early in the Morning; and tho’ he was not certain of seeing his adorable Atlante, he dress’d himself with all that Care, as if he had been to have waited on her, and got himself into the Window, that overlook’d Monsieur De Pais’s Balcony, where he had not remain’d long, before he saw the pretty Charlot come into it, not with any design of seeing Rinaldo, but to look and gaze about her a little. Rinaldo saw her, and made her a very low Reverence, and found some disorder’d Joy on the sight of even Charlot, since she was Sister to Atlante. He call’d to her, (for the Window was so near her, he could easily be heard by her) and told her, ‘He was infinitely indebted to her Bounty, for giving him an Opportunity yesterday of falling on that Discourse, which had made him the happiest Man in the World’: He said, ‘If she had not by her agreeable Conversation encourag’d him, and drawn him from one Word to another, he should never have had the Confidence to have told Atlante, how much he ador’d her.’ ‘I am very glad, (replyed Charlot) that I was the Occasion of the Beginning of an Amour, which was displeasing to neither one nor the other; for I assure you for your Comfort, my Sister nothing but thinks on you: We lie together, and you have taught her already to sigh so, that I could not sleep for her.’ At this his Face was cover’d over with a rising Joy, which his Heart could not contain: And after some Discourse, in which this innocent Girl discovered more than Atlante wish’d she should, he besought her to become his Advocate; and since she had no Brother, to give him leave to assume that Honour, and call her Sister. Thus, by degrees, he flatter’d her into a Consent of carrying a Letter from him to Atlante; which she, who believ’d all as innocent as her self, and being not forbid to do so, immediately consented to; when he took his Pen and Ink, that stood in the Window, with Paper, and wrote Atlante this following Letter:

RINALDO to ATLANTE.

If my Fate be so severe, as to deny me the Happiness of sighing out my Pain and Passion daily at your Feet, if there be any Faith in the Hope you were pleased to give me (as ’twere a Sin to doubt) Oh charming Atlante! suffer me not to languish, both without beholding you, and without the Blessing of now and then a Billet, in answer to those that shall daily assure you of my eternal Faith and Vows; ’tis all I ask, till Fortune, and our Affairs, shall allow me the unspeakable Satisfaction of claiming you: yet if your Charity can sometimes afford me a sight of you, either from your Balcony in the Evening, or at a Church in the Morning, it would save me from that Despair and Torment, which must possess a Heart so unassur’d, as that of

Your Eternal Adorer,
   Rin. Bellyaurd.

He having writ and seal’d this, toss’d it into the Balcony to Charlot, having first look’d about to see if none perceiv’d them. She put it in her Bosom, and ran in to her Sister, whom by chance she found alone; Vernole having taken De Pais into the Garden, to discourse him concerning the sending Charlot to the Monastery, which Work he desir’d to see perform’d, before he declar’d his Intentions to Atlante: for among all his other good Qualities, he was very avaricious; and as fair as Atlante was, he thought she would be much fairer with the Addition of Charlot’s Portion. This Affair of his with Monsieur De Pais, gave Charlot an opportunity of delivering her Letter to her Sister; who no sooner drew it from her Bosom, but Atlante’s Face was covered over with Blushes: For she imagin’d from whence it came, and had a secret Joy in that Imagination, tho’ she thought she must put on the Severity and Niceness of a Virgin, who would not be thought to have surrendered her Heart with so small an Assault, and the first too. So she demanded from whence Charlot had that Letter? Who replyed with Joy, ‘From the fine young Gentleman, our Neighbour.’ At which Atlante assum’d all the Gravity she could, to chide her Sister; who replied, ‘Well, Sister, had you this day seen him, you would not have been angry to have receiv’d a Letter from him; he look’d so handsome, and was so richly dress’d, ten times finer than he was yesterday; and I promis’d him you should read it: therefore, pray let me keep my Word with him; and not only so, but carry him an Answer.’ ‘Well (said Atlante) to save your Credit with Monsieur Rinaldo, I will read it’: Which she did, and finish’d with a Sigh. While she was reading, Charlot ran into the Garden, to see if they were not likely to be surpriz’d; and finding the Count and her Father set in an Arbour, in deep Discourse, she brought Pen, Ink, and Paper to her Sister, and told her, she might write without the Fear of being disturbed: and urged her so long to what was enough her Inclination, that she at last obtained this Answer:

ATLANTE to RINALDO.

Charlot, your little importunate Advocate, has at last subdued me to a Consent of returning you This. She has put me on an Affair with which I am wholly unacquainted; and you ought to take this very kindly from me, since it is the very first time I ever writ to one of your Sex, tho’ perhaps I might with less Danger have done it to any other Man. I tremble while I write, since I dread a Correspondence of this Nature, which may insensibly draw us into an Inconvenience, and engage me beyond the Limits of that Nicety I ought to preserve: For this Way we venture to say a thousand little kind Things, which in Conversation we dare not do: for now none can see us blush. I am sensible I shall this Way put my self too soon into your Power; and tho’ you have abundance of Merit, I ought to be asham’d of confessing, I am but too sensible of it:—But hold—I shall discover for your Repose (which I would preserve) too much of the Heart of

Atlante.

She gave this Letter to Charlot; who immediately ran into the Balcony with it, where she still found Rinaldo in a melancholy Posture, leaning his Head on his Hand: She shewed him the Letter, but was afraid to toss it to him, for fear it might fall to the Ground; so he ran and fetched a long Cane, which he cleft at one End, and held it while she put the Letter into the Cleft, and staid not to hear what he said to it. But never was Man so transported with Joy, as he was at the reading of this Letter; it gives him new Wounds; for to the Generous, nothing obliges Love so much as Love: tho’ it is now too much the Nature of that inconstant Sex, to cease to love as soon as they are sure of the Conquest. But it was far different with our Cavalier; he was the more inflamed, by imagining he had made some Impressions on the Heart of Atlante, and kindled some Sparks there, that in time might increase to something more; so that he now resolves to die hers: and considering all the Obstacles that may possibly hinder his Happiness, he found none but his Father’s Obstinacy, perhaps occasioned by the Meanness of Atlante’s Fortune. To this he urged again, that he was his only Son, and a Son whom he loved equal to his own Life; and that certainly, as soon as he should behold him dying for Atlante, which if he were forc’d to quit her he must be, he then believed the Tenderness of so fond a Parent would break forth into Pity, and plead within for his Consent. These were the Thoughts that flatter’d this young Lover all the Day; and whether he were riding the Great Horse, or at his Study of Philosophy, or Mathematicks, Singing, Dancing, or whatsoever other Exercise his Tutors ordered, his Thoughts were continually on Atlante. And now he profited no more, whatever he seem’d to do: every Day he fail’d not to write to her by the Hand of the kind Charlot; who, young as she was, had conceiv’d a great Friendship for Rinaldo, and fail’d not to fetch her Letters, and bring him Answers, such as he wish’d to receive. But all this did not satisfy our impatient Lover; Absence kill’d, and he was no longer able to support himself, without a sight of this adorable Maid; he therefore implores, she will give him that Satisfaction: And she at last grants it, with a better Will than he imagin’d. The next Day was the appointed Time, when she would, under Pretence of going to Church, give him an Assignation: And because all publick Places were dangerous, and might make a great Noise, and they had no private Place to trust to, Rinaldo, under Pretence of going up the River in his Pleasure-Boat, which he often did, sent to have it made ready by the next Day at Ten of the Clock. This was accordingly done, and he gave Atlante Notice of his Design of going an Hour or two on the River in his Boat, which lay near to such a Place, not far from the Church. She and Charlot came thither: and because they durst not come out without a Footman or two, they taking one, sent him with a How-do-ye to some young Ladies, and told him, he should find them at Church: So getting rid of their Spy, they hastened to the River-side, and found a Boat and Rinaldo, waiting to carry them on board his little Vessel, which was richly adorn’d, and a very handsome Collation ready for them, of cold Meats, Sallads and Sweetmeats.

As soon as they were come into the Pleasure-Boat, unseen of any, he kneel’d at the Feet of Atlante, and there utter’d so many passionate and tender Things to her, with a Voice so trembling and soft, with Eyes so languishing, and a Fervency and a Fire so sincere, that her young Heart, wholly uncapable of Artifice, could no longer resist such Language, and such Looks of Love; she grows tender, and he perceives it in her fine Eyes, who could not dissemble; he reads her Heart in her Looks, and found it yielding apace; and therefore assaults it anew, with fresh Forces of Sighs and Tears: He implores she would assure him of her Heart, which she could no other way do, than by yielding to marry him: He would carry her to the next Village, there consummate that Happiness, without which he was able to live no longer; for he had a thousand Fears, that some other Lover was, or would suddenly be provided for her; and therefore he would make sure of her while he had this Opportunity: and to that End, he answer’d all the Objections she could make to the contrary. But ever, when he named Marriage, she trembled, with fear of doing something that she fancy’d she ought not to do without the Consent of her Father. She was sensible of the Advantage, but had been so us’d to a strict Obedience, that she could not without Horror think of violating it; and therefore besought him, as he valued her Repose, not to urge her to that: And told him further, That if he fear’d any Rival, she would give him what other Assurance and Satisfaction he pleas’d, but that of Marriage; which she could not consent to, till she knew such an Alliance would not be fatal to him: for she fear’d, as passionately as he lov’d her, when he should find she had occasion’d him the Loss of his Fortune, or his Father’s Affection, he would grow to hate her. Tho’ he answer’d to this all that a fond Lover could urge, yet she was resolv’d, and he forc’d to content himself with obliging her by his Prayers and Protestations, his Sighs and Tears, to a Contract, which they solemnly made each other, vowing on either Side, they would never marry any other. This being solemnly concluded, he assum’d a Look more gay and contented than before: He presented her a very rich Ring, which she durst not put on her Finger, but hid it in her Bosom. And beholding each other now as Man and Wife, she suffer’d him all the decent Freedoms he could wish to take; so that the Hours of this Voyage seem’d the most soft and charming of his Life: and doubtless they were so; every Touch of Atlante transported him, every Look pierced his Soul, and he was all Raptures of Joy, when he consider’d this charming lovely Maid was his own.

Charlot all this while was gazing above-deck, admiring the Motion of the little Vessel, and how easily the Wind and Tide bore her up the River. She had never been in any thing of this kind before, and was very well pleas’d and entertain’d, when Rinaldo call’d her down to eat; where they enjoy’d themselves, as well as was possible: and Charlot was wondring to see such a Content in their Eyes.

But now they thought it was high time for them to return; they fancy the Footman missing them at Church, would go home and alarm their Father, and the Knight of the Ill-favour’d Countenance, as Charlot call’d Count Vernole, whose Severity put their Father on a greater Restriction of them, than naturally he would do of himself. At the Name of this Count, Rinaldo chang’d Colour, fearing he might be some Rival; and ask’d Atlante, if this Vernole was a-kin to her? She answer’d no; but was a very great Friend to her Father, and one who from their Infancy had had a particular Concern for their Breeding, and was her Master for Philosophy. ‘Ah! (reply’d Rinaldo, sighing) this Man’s Concern must proceed from something more than Friendship for her Father’; and therefore conjur’d her to tell him, whether he was not a Lover: ‘A Lover! (reply’d Atlante) I assure you, he is a perfect Antidote against that Passion’: And tho’ she suffer’d his ugly Presence now, she should loathe and hate him, should he but name Love to her.

She said, she believed she need not fear any such Persecution, since he was a Man who was not at all amorous; that he had too much of the Satire in his Humour, to harbour any Softness there: and Nature had form’d his Body to his Mind, wholly unfit for Love. And that he might set his Heart absolutely at rest, she assur’d him her Father had never yet propos’d any Marriage to her, tho’ many advantageous ones were offer’d him every Day.

The Sails being turned to carry them back from whence they came; after having discoursed of a thousand Things, and all of Love, and Contrivance to carry on their mutual Design, they with Sighs parted; Rinaldo staying behind in the Pleasure-Boat, and they going a-shore in the Wherry that attended: after which he cast many an amorous and sad Look, and perhaps was answer’d by those of Atlante.

It was past Church-time two or three Hours, when they arrived at home, wholly unprepar’d with an Excuse, so absolutely was Atlante’s Soul possest with softer Business. The first Person that they met was the Footman, who open’d the Door, and began to cry out how long he had waited in the Church, and how in vain; without giving them time to reply. De Pais came towards ’em, and with a frowning Look demanded where they had been? Atlante, who was not accustom’d to Excuses and Untruth, was a while at a stand; when Charlot with a Voice of Joy cry’d out, ‘Oh Sir! we have been a-board of a fine little Ship’: At this Atlante blush’d, fearing she would tell the Truth. But she proceeded on, and said, that they had not been above a Quarter of an Hour at Church, when the Lady ——, with some other Ladies and Cavaliers, were going out of the Church, and that spying them, they would needs have ’em go with ’em: My Sister, Sir, continu’d she, was very loth to go, for fear you should be angry; but my Lady —— was so importunate with her on one side, and I on the other, because I never saw a little Ship in my Life, that at last we prevail’d with her: therefore, good Sir, be not angry. He promised them he was not. And when they came in, they found Count Vernole, who had been inspiring De Pais with Severity, and counselled him to chide the young Ladies, for being too long absent, under Pretence of going to their Devotion. Nor was it enough for him to set the Father on, but himself with a Gravity, where Concern and Malice were both apparent, reproached Atlante with Levity; and told her, He believed she had some other Motive than the Invitation of a Lady, to go on Ship-board; and that she had too many Lovers, not to make them doubt that this was a design’d thing; and that she had heard Love from some one, for whom it was design’d. To this she made but a short Reply, That if it was so, she had no reason to conceal it, since she had Sense enough to look after herself; and if any body had made love to her, he might be assur’d, it was some one whose Quality and Merit deserved to be heard: and with a Look of Scorn, she passed on to another Room, and left him silently raging within with Jealousy: Which, if before she tormented him, this Declaration increas’d it to a pitch not to be conceal’d. And this Day he said so much to the Father, that he resolv’d forthwith to send Charlot to a Nunnery: and accordingly the next day he bid her prepare to go. Charlot, who was not yet arrived to the Years of Distinction, did not much regret it; and having no Trouble but leaving her Sister, she prepared to go to a Nunnery, not many Streets from that where she dwelt. The Lady Abbess was her Father’s Kinswoman, and had treated her very well, as often as she came to visit her: so that with Satisfaction enough, she was condemned to a Monastick Life, and was now going for her Probation-Year. Atlante was troubled at her Departure, because she had no body to bring and to carry Letters between Rinaldo and she: however, she took her leave of her, and promis’d to come and see her as often as she should be permitted to go abroad; for she fear’d now some Constraint extraordinary would be put upon her: and so it happened.

Atlante’s Chamber was that to which the Balcony belong’d; and tho’ she durst not appear there in the Daytime, she could in the Night, and that way give her Lover as many Hours of Conversation as she pleased, without being perceiv’d: But how to give Rinaldo notice of this, she could not tell; who not knowing Charlot was gone to a Monastery, waited many days at his Window to see her: at last, they neither of them knowing who to trust with any Message, one day, when he was, as usual upon his watch, he saw Atlante step into the Balcony, who having a Letter, in which she had put a piece of Lead, she tost it into his Window, whose Casement was open, and run in again unperceived by any but himself. The Paper contained only this:

My Chamber is that which looks into the Balcony; from whence, tho’ I cannot converse with you in the Day, I can at Night, when I am retired to go to bed: therefore be at your Window.   Farewel.

There needed no more to make him a diligent Watcher: and accordingly she was no sooner retired to her Chamber, but she would come into the Balcony, where she fail’d not to see him attending at his Window. This happy Contrivance was thus carry’d on for many Nights, where they entertain’d one another with all the Endearment that two Hearts could dictate, who were perfectly united and assur’d of each other; and this pleasing Conversation would often last till Day appear’d, and forced them to part.

But old Bellyaurd perceiving his Son frequent that Chamber more than usual, fancy’d something extraordinary must be the Cause of it; and one night asking for his Son, his Valet told him, he was gone into the great Chamber, so this was called: Bellyaurd asked the Valet what he did there; he told him he could not tell; for often he had lighted him thither, and that his Master would take the Candle from him at the Chamber-Door, and suffer him to go no farther. Tho’ the old Gentleman could not imagine what Affairs he could have alone every Night in that Chamber, he had a Curiosity to see: and one unlucky Night, putting off his Shoes, he came to the Door of the Chamber, which was open; he enter’d softly, and saw the Candle set in the Chimney, and his Son at a great open Bay-Window: he stopt awhile to wait when he would turn, but finding him unmoveable, he advanced something farther, and at last heard the soft Dialogue of Love between him and Atlante, whom he knew to be she, by his often calling her by her Name in their Discourse. He heard enough to confirm him how Matters went; and unseen as he came, he returned, full of Indignation, and thought how to prevent so great an Evil, as this Passion of his Son might produce: at first he thought to round him severely in the Ear about it, and upbraid him for doing the only thing he had thought fit to forbid him; but then he thought that would but terrify him for awhile, and he would return again, where he had so great an Inclination, if he were near her; he therefore resolves to send him to Paris, that by Absence he might forget the young Beauty that had charm’d his Youth. Therefore, without letting Rinaldo know the Reason, and without taking Notice that he knew any thing of his Amour, he came to him one day, and told him, all the Masters he had for the improving him in noble Sciences were very dull, or very remiss: and that he resolved he should go for a Year or two to the Academy at Paris. To this the Son made a thousand Evasions; but the Father was positive, and not to be persuaded by all his Reasons: And finding he should absolutely displease him if he refus’d to go, and not daring to tell him the dear Cause of his Desire to remain at Orleans, he therefore, with a breaking Heart, consents to go, nay, resolves it, tho’ it should be his Death. But alas! he considers that this Parting will not only prove the greatest Torment upon Earth to him, but that Atlante will share in his Misfortunes also: This Thought gives him a double Torment, and yet he finds no Way to evade it.

The Night that finished this fatal Day, he goes again to his wonted Station, the Window; where he had not sighed very long, but he saw Atlante enter the Balcony: He was not able a great while to speak to her, or to utter one Word. The Night was light enough to see him at the wonted Place; and she admires at his Silence, and demands the Reason in such obliging Terms as adds to his Grief; and he, with a deep Sigh, reply’d, ‘Urge me not, my fair Atlante, to speak, lest by obeying you I give you more cause of Grief than my Silence is capable of doing’: and then sighing again, he held his peace, and gave her leave to ask the Cause of these last Words. But when he made no Reply but by sighing, she imagin’d it much worse than indeed it was; and with a trembling and fainting Voice, she cried, ‘Oh! Rinaldo, give me leave to divine that cruel News you are so unwilling to tell me: It is so,’ added she, ‘you are destin’d to some more fortunate Maid than Atlante.’ At this Tears stopped her Speech, and she could utter no more. ‘No, my dearest Charmer (reply’d Rinaldo, elevating his Voice) if that were all, you should see with what Fortitude I would die, rather than obey any such Commands. I am vow’d yours to the last Moment of my Life; and will be yours in spite of all the Opposition in the World: that Cruelty I could evade, but cannot this that threatens me.’ ‘Ah! (cried Atlante) let Fate do her worst, so she still continue Rinaldo mine, and keep that Faith he hath sworn to me entire: What can she do beside, that can afflict me?’ ‘She can separate me (cried he) for some time from Atlante.’ ‘Oh! (reply’d she) all Misfortunes fall so below that which I first imagin’d, that methinks I do not resent this, as I should otherwise have done: but I know, when I have a little more consider’d it, I shall even die with the Grief of it; Absence being so great an Enemy to Love, and making us soon forget the Object belov’d: This, tho’ I never experienc’d, I have heard, and fear it may be my Fate.’ He then convinc’d her Fears with a thousand new Vows, and a thousand Imprecations of Constancy. She then asked him, ‘If their Loves were discover’d, that he was with such haste to depart?’ He told her, ‘Nothing of that was the Cause; and he could almost wish it were discover’d, since he could resolutely then refuse to go: but it was only to cultivate his Mind more effectually than he could do here; ’twas the Care of his Father to accomplish him the more; and therefore he could not contradict it. But (said he) I am not sent where Seas shall part us, nor vast Distances of Earth, but to Paris, from whence he might come in two Days to see her again; and that he would expect from that Balcony, that had given him so many happy Moments, many more when he should come to see her.’ He besought her to send him away with all the Satisfaction she could, which she could no otherwise do, than by giving him new Assurances that she would never give away that Right he had in her to any other Lover: She vows this with innumerable Tears; and is almost angry with him for questioning her Faith. He tells her he has but one Night more to stay, and his Grief would be unspeakable, if he should not be able to take a better leave of her, than at a Window; and that, if she would give him leave, he would by a Rope or two, tied together, so as it may serve for Steps, ascend her Balcony; he not having time to provide a Ladder of Ropes. She tells him she has so great a Confidence in his Virtue and Love, that she will refuse him nothing, tho’ it would be a very bold Venture for a Maid, to trust her self with a passionate young Man, in silence of Night: and tho’ she did not extort a Vow from him to secure her, she expected he would have a care of her Honour. He swore to her, his Love was too religious for so base an Attempt. There needed not many Vows to confirm her Faith; and it was agreed on between them, that he should come the next Night into her Chamber.

It happen’d that Night, as it often did, that Count Vernole lay with Monsieur De Pais, which was in a Ground-Room, just under that of Atlante’s. As soon as she knew all were in bed, she gave the word to Rinaldo, who was attending with the Impatience of a passionate Lover below, under the Window; and who no sooner heard the Balcony open, but he ascended with some difficulty, and enter’d the Chamber, where he found Atlante trembling with Joy and Fear: He throws himself at her Feet, as unable to speak as she; who nothing but blushed and bent down her Eyes, hardly daring to glance them towards the dear Object of her Desires, the Lord of all her Vows: She was asham’d to see a Man in her Chamber, where yet none had ever been alone, and by Night too. He saw her Fear, and felt her trembling; and after a thousand Sighs of Love had made way for Speech, he besought her to fear nothing from him, for his Flame was too sacred, and his Passion too holy to offer any thing but what Honour with Love might afford him. At last he brought her to some Courage, and the Roses of her fair Cheeks assum’d their wonted Colour, not blushing too red, nor languishing too pale. But when the Conversation began between them, it was the softest in the world: They said all that parting Lovers could say; all that Wit and Tenderness could express: They exchanged their Vows anew; and to confirm his, he tied a Bracelet of Diamonds about her Arm, and she returned him one of her Hair, which he had long begged, and she had on purpose made, which clasped together with Diamonds; this she put about his Arm, and he swore to carry it to his Grave. The Night was far spent in tender Vows, soft Sighs and Tears on both sides, and it was high time to part: but, as if Death had been to have arrived to them in that Minute, they both linger’d away the time, like Lovers who had forgot themselves; and the Day was near approaching when he bid farewel, which he repeated very often: for still he was interrupted by some commanding Softness from Atlante, and then lost all his Power of going; till she, more courageous and careful of his Interest and her own Fame, forc’d him from her: and it was happy she did, for he was no sooner got over the Balcony, and she had flung him down his Rope, and shut the Door, but Vernole, whom Love and Contrivance kept waking, fancy’d several times he heard a Noise in Atlante’s Chamber. And whether in passing over the Balcony, Rinaldo made any Noise or not, or whether it were still his jealous Fancy, he came up in his Night-Gown, with a Pistol in his Hand. Atlante was not so much lost in Grief, tho’ she were all in Tears, but she heard a Man come up, and imagin’d it had been her Father, she not knowing of Count Vernole’s lying in the House that Night; if she had, she possibly had taken more care to have been silent; but whoever it was, she could not get to bed soon enough, and therefore turn’d her self to her Dressing-Table, where a Candle stood, and where lay a Book open of the Story of Ariadne and Theseus. The Count turning the Latch, enter’d halting into her Chamber in his Night-Gown clapped close about him, which betray’d an ill-favour’d Shape, his Night-Cap on, without a Perriwig, which discover’d all his lean wither’d Jaws, his pale Face, and his Eyes staring: and made altogether so dreadful a Figure, that Atlante, who no more dreamt of him than of a Devil, had possibly have rather seen the last. She gave a great Shriek, which frighted Vernole; so both stood for a while staring on each other, till both were recollected: He told her the Care of her Honour had brought him thither; and then rolling his small Eyes round the Chamber, to see if he could discover any body, he proceeded, and cry’d, ‘Madam, if I had no other Motive than your being up at this time of Night, or rather of Day, I could easily guess how you have been entertain’d.’ ‘What Insolence is this (said she, all in a rage) when to cover your Boldness of approaching my Chamber at this Hour, you would question how I have been entertain’d! Either explain your self, or quit my Chamber; for I do not use to see such terrible Objects here.’ ‘Possibly those you do see (said the Count) are indeed more agreeable, but I am afraid have not that Regard to your Honour as I have’: And at that word he stepped to the Balcony, open’d it, and look’d out; but seeing no body, he shut it to again. This enraged Atlante beyond all Patience; and snatching the Pistol out of his Hand, she told him, He deserved to have it aimed at his Head, for having the Impudence to question her Honour, or her Conduct; and commanded him to avoid her Chamber as he lov’d his Life, which she believ’d he was fonder of than of her Honour. She speaking this in a Tone wholly transported with Rage, and at the same time holding the Pistol towards him, made him tremble with Fear; and he now found, whether she were guilty or not, it was his turn to beg Pardon: For you must know, however it came to pass that his Jealousy made him come up in that fierce Posture, at other times Vernole was the most tame and passive Man in the World, and one who was afraid of his own Shadow in the Night: He had a natural Aversion for Danger, and thought it below a Man of Wit, or common Sense, to be guilty of that brutal thing, called Courage or Fighting; His Philosophy told him, It was safe sleeping in a whole Skin; and possibly he apprehended as much Danger from this Virago, as ever he did from his own Sex. He therefore fell on his Knees, and besought her to hold her fair Hand, and not to suffer that, which was the greatest Mark of his Respect, to be the Cause of her Hate or Indignation. The pitiful Faces he made, and the Signs of Mortal Fear in him, had almost made her laugh, at least it allay’d her Anger; and she bid him rise and play the fool hereafter somewhere else, and not in her Presence; yet for once she would deign to give him this Satisfaction, that she was got into a Book, which had many moving Stories very well writ; and that she found her self so well entertain’d, she had forgot how the Night passed. He most humbly thanked her for this Satisfaction, and retired, perhaps not so well satisfied as he pretended.

After this, he appear’d more submissive and respectful towards Atlante; and she carry’d herself more reserv’d and haughty towards him; which was one Reason, he would not yet discover his Passion.

Thus the Time run on at Orleans, while Rinaldo found himself daily languishing at Paris. He was indeed in the best Academy in the City, amongst a Number of brave and noble Youths, where all things that could accomplish them, were to be learn’d by those that had any Genius; but Rinaldo had other Thoughts, and other Business: his Time was wholly past in the most solitary Parts of the Garden, by the melancholy Fountains, and in the most gloomy Shades, where he could with most Liberty breathe out his Passion and his Griefs. He was past the Tutorage of a Boy; and his Masters could not upbraid him, but found he had some secret Cause of Grief, which made him not mind those Exercises, which were the Delight of the rest: so that nothing being able to divert his Melancholy, which daily increased upon him, he fear’d it would bring him into a Fever, if he did not give himself the Satisfaction of seeing Atlante. He had no sooner thought of this, but he was impatient to put it in execution; he resolved to go (having very good Horses) without acquainting any of his Servants with it. He got a very handsom and light Ladder of Ropes made, which he carry’d under his Coat, and away he rid for Orleans, stay’d at a little Village, till the Darkness of the Night might favour his Design: And then walking about Atlante’s Lodgings, till he saw a Light in her Chamber, and then making that Noise on his Sword, as was agreed between them, he was heard by his adorable Atlante, and suffer’d to mount her Chamber, where he would stay till almost break of Day, and then return to the Village, and take Horse, and away for Paris again. This, once in a Month, was his Exercise, without which he could not live; so that his whole Year was past in riding between Orleans and Paris, between Excess of Grief, and Excess of Joy by turns.

It was now that Atlante, arrived to her fifteenth Year, shone out with a Lustre of Beauty greater than ever; and in this Year, in the Absence of Rinaldo, had carry’d herself with that Severity of Life, without the youthful Desire of going abroad, or desiring any Diversion, but what she found in her own retired Thoughts, that Vernole, wholly unable longer to conceal his Passion, resolv’d to make a Publication of it, first to the Father, and then to the lovely Daughter, of whom he had some Hope, because she had carry’d her self very well towards him for this Year past; which she would never have done, if she had imagin’d he would ever have been her Lover: She had seen no Signs of any such Misfortune towards her in these many Years he had conversed with her, and she had no Cause to fear him. When one Day her Father taking her into the Garden, told her what Honour and Happiness was in store for her; and that now the Glory of his fall’n Family would rise again, since she had a Lover of an illustrious Blood, ally’d to Monarchs; and one whose Fortune was newly encreased to a very considerable Degree, answerable to his Birth. She changed Colour at this Discourse, imagining but too well who this illustrious Lover was; when De Pais proceeded and told her, ‘Indeed his Person was not the most agreeable that ever was seen: but he marry’d her to Glory and Fortune, not the Man: And a Woman (says he) ought to look no further.’

She needed not any more to inform her who this intended Husband was; and therefore, bursting forth into Tears, she throws herself at his Feet, imploring him not to use the Authority of a Father, to force her to a thing so contrary to her Inclination: assuring him, she could not consent to any such thing; and that she would rather die than yield. She urged many Arguments for this her Disobedience; but none would pass for current with the old Gentleman, whose Pride had flatter’d him with Hopes of so considerable a Son-in-law: He was very much surpriz’d at Atlante’s refusing what he believ’d she would receive with Joy; and finding that no Arguments on his Side could draw hers to an obedient Consent, he grew to such a Rage, as very rarely possest him: vowing, if she did not conform her Will to his, he would abandon her to all the Cruelty of Contempt and Poverty: so that at last she was forced to return him this Answer, ‘That she would strive all she could with her Heart; but she verily believed she should never bring it to consent to a Marriage with Monsieur the Count.’ The Father continued threatning her, and gave her some Days to consider of it: So leaving her in Tears, he returned to his Chamber, to consider what Answer he should give Count Vernole, who he knew would be impatient to learn what Success he had, and what himself was to hope. De Pais, after some Consideration, resolved to tell him, she receiv’d the Offer very well, but that he must expect a little Maiden-Nicety in the Case: and accordingly did tell him so; and he was not at all doubtful of his good Fortune.

But Atlante, who resolved to die a thousand Deaths rather than break her solemn Vows to Rinaldo, or to marry the Count, cast about how she should avoid it with the least Hazard of her Father’s Rage. She found Rinaldo the better and more advantageous Match of the two, could they but get his Father’s Consent: He was beautiful and young; his Title was equal to that of Vernole, when his Father should die; and his Estate exceeded his: yet she dares not make a Discovery, for fear she should injure her Lover; who at this Time, though she knew it not, lay sick of a Fever, while she was wondering that he came not as he used to do. However she resolves to send him a Letter, and acquaint him with the Misfortune; which she did in these Terms:

ATLANTE to RINALDO.

My Father’s Authority would force me to violate my sacred Vows to you, and give them to the Count Vernole, whom I mortally hate, yet could wish him the greatest Monarch in the World, that I might shew you I could even then despise him for your Sake. My Father is already too much enraged by my Denial, to hear Reason from me, if I should confess to him my Vows to you: So that I see nothing but a Prospect of Death before me; for assure your self, my Rinaldo, I will die rather than consent to marry any other: Therefore come my Rinaldo, and come quickly, to see my Funerals, instead of those Nuptials they vainly expect from

Your Faithful
  ATLANTE.

This Letter Rinaldo receiv’d; and there needed no more to make him fly to Orleans: This raised him soon from his Bed of Sickness, and getting immediately to horse, he arrived at his Father’s House; who did not so much admire to see him, because he heard he was sick of a Fever, and gave him leave to return, if he pleas’d: He went directly to his Father’s House, because he knew somewhat of the Business, he was resolv’d to make his Passion known, as soon as he had seen Atlante, from whom he was to take all his Measures: He therefore fail’d not, when all were in Bed, to rise and go from his Chamber into the Street; where finding a Light in Atlante’s Chamber, for she every Night expected him, he made the usual Sign, and she went into the Balcony; and he having no Conveniency of mounting up into it, they discoursed, and said all they had to say. From thence she tells him of the Count’s Passion, of her Father’s Resolution, and that her own was rather to die his, than live any Body’s else: And at last, as their Refuge, they resolv’d to discover the whole Matter; she to her Father, and he to his, to see what Accommodation they could make; if not, to die together. They parted at this Resolve, for she would permit him no longer to stay in the Street after such a Sickness; so he went home to bed, but not to sleep.

The next Day, at Dinner, Monsieur Bellyaurd believing his Son absolutely cur’d, by Absence, of his Passion; and speaking of all the News in the Town, among the rest, told him he was come in good time to dance at the Wedding of Count Vernole with Atlante, the Match being agreed on: ‘No, Sir (reply’d Rinaldo) I shall never dance at the Marriage of Count Vernole with Atlante; and you will see in Monsieur De Pais’s House a Funeral sooner than a Wedding.’ And thereupon he told his Father all his Passion for that lovely Maid; and assur’d him, if he would not see him laid in his Grave, he must consent to this Match. Bellyaurd rose in a Fury, and told him, ‘He had rather see him in his Grave, than in the Arms of Atlante: Not (continued he) so much for any Dislike I have to the young Lady, or the Smallness of her Fortune; but because I have so long warn’d you from such a Passion, and have with such Care endeavour’d by your Absence to prevent it.’ He travers’d the Room very fast, still protesting against this Alliance: and was deaf to all Rinaldo could say. On the other side the Day being come, wherein Atlante was to give her final Answer to her Father concerning her Marriage with Count Vernole; she assum’d all the Courage and Resolution she could, to withstand the Storm that threatned a Denial. And her Father came to her, and demanding her Answer, she told him, ‘She could not be the Wife of Vernole, since she was Wife to Rinaldo, only son to Bellyaurd.’ If her Father storm’d before, he grew like a Man distracted at her Confession; and Vernole hearing them loud, ran to the Chamber to learn the Cause; where just as he enter’d he found De Pais’s Sword drawn, and ready to kill his Daughter, who lay all in Tears at his Feet. He with-held his Hand; and asking the Cause of his Rage, he was told all that Atlante had confess’d; which put Vernole quite beside all his Gravity, and made him discover the Infirmity of Anger, which he used to say ought to be dissembled by all wise Men: So that De Pais forgot his own to appease his, but ’twas in vain, for he went out of the House, vowing Revenge to Rinaldo: And to that end, being not very well assur’d of his own Courage, as I said before, and being of the Opinion, that no Man ought to expose his Life to him who has injur’d him; he hired Swiss and Spanish Soldiers to attend him in the nature of Footmen; and watch’d several Nights about Bellyaurd’s Door, and that of De Pais’s, believing he should some time or other see him under the Window of Atlante, or perhaps mounting into it: for now he no longer doubted, but this happy Lover was he, whom he fancy’d he heard go from the Balcony that Night he came up with his Pistol; and being more a Spaniard than a Frenchman in his Nature, he resolv’d to take him any way unguarded or unarm’d, if he came in his Way.

Atlante, who heard his Threatnings when he went from her in a Rage, fear’d his Cowardice might put him on some base Action, to deprive Rinaldo of his Life; and therefore thought it not safe to suffer him to come to her by Night, as he had before done; but sent him word in a Note, that he should forbear her Window, for Vernole had sworn his Death. This Note came, unseen by his Father, to his Hands: but this could not hinder him from coming to her Window, which he did as soon as it was dark: he came thither, only attended with his Valet, and two Footmen; for now he car’d not who knew the Secret. He had no sooner made the Sign, but he found himself incompass’d with Vernole’s Bravoes; and himself standing at a distance cry’d out, ‘That is he’: With that they all drew on both sides, and Rinaldo receiv’d a Wound in his Arm. Atlante heard this, and ran crying out, ‘That Rinaldo, prest by Numbers, would be kill’d.’ De Pais, who was reading in his Closet, took his Sword, and ran out; and, contrary to all Expectation, seeing Rinaldo fighting with his Back to the Door, pull’d him into the House, and fought himself with the Bravoes: who being very much wounded by Rinaldo, gave ground, and sheer’d off; and De Pais, putting up old Bilbo into the Scabbard, went into his House, where he found Rinaldo almost fainting with loss of Blood, and Atlante, with her Maids binding up his Wound; to whom De Pais said, ‘This charity, Atlante, very well becomes you, and is what I can allow you; and I could wish you had no other Motive for this Action.’ Rinaldo by degrees recover’d of his Fainting, and as well as his Weakness would permit him, he got up and made a low Reverence to De Pais, telling him, ‘He had now a double Obligation to pay him all the Respect in the World; first, for his being the Father of Atlante; and secondly, for being the Preserver of his Life: two Tyes that should eternally oblige him to love and honour him, as his own Parent.’ De Pais reply’d, ‘He had done nothing but what common Humanity compell’d him to do: But if he would make good that Respect he profess’d towards him, it must be in quitting all Hopes of Atlante, whom he had destin’d to another, or an eternal Inclosure in a Monastery: He had another Daughter, whom if he would think worthy of his Regard, he should take his Alliance as a very great Honour; but his Word and Reputation, nay his Vows were past, to give Atlante to Count Vernole.’ Rinaldo, who before he spoke took measure from Atlante’s Eyes, which told him her Heart was his, return’d this Answer to De Pais, ‘That he was infinitely glad to find by the Generosity of his Offer, that he had no Aversion against his being his Son-in-law; and that, next to Atlante, the greatest Happiness he could wish would be his receiving Charlot from his Hand; but that he could not think of quitting Atlante, how necessary soever it would be, for Glory, and his—(the further) Repose.’ De Pais would not let him at this time argue the matter further, seeing he was ill, and had need of looking after; he therefore begg’d he would for his Health’s sake retire to his own House, whither he himself conducted him, and left him to the Care of his Men, who were escap’d the Fray; and returning to his own Chamber, he found Atlante retir’d, and so he went to bed full of Thoughts. This Night had increas’d his Esteem for Rinaldo, and lessen’d it for Count Vernole; but his Word and Honour being past, he could not break it, neither with Safety nor Honour: for he knew the haughty resenting Nature of the Count, and he fear’d some Danger might arrive to the brave Rinaldo, which troubled him very much. At last he resolv’d, that neither might take any thing ill at his Hands, to lose Atlante, and send her to the Monastery where her Sister was, and compel her to be a Nun. This he thought would prevent Mischiefs on both sides; and accordingly, the next Day, (having in the Morning sent Word to the Lady Abbess what he would have done) he carries Atlante, under pretence of visiting her Sister, (which they often did) to the Monastery, where she was no sooner come, but she was led into the Inclosure: Her Father had rather sacrifice her, than she should be the Cause of the Murder of two such noble Men as Vernole and Rinaldo.

The Noise of Atlante’s being inclos’d, was soon spread all over the busy Town, and Rinaldo was not the last to whom the News arriv’d: He was for a few Days confin’d to his Chamber; where, when alone, he rav’d like a Man distracted; But his Wounds had so incens’d his Father against Atlante, that he swore he would see his Son die of them, rather than suffer him to marry Atlante; and was extremely overjoy’d to find she was condemn’d, for ever, to the Monastery. So that the Son thought it the wisest Course, and most for the advantage of his Love, to say nothing to contradict his Father; but being almost assur’d Atlante would never consent to be shut up in a Cloyster, and abandon him, he flatter’d himself with hope, that he should steal her from thence, and marry her in spite of all Opposition. This he was impatient to put in practice: He believ’d, if he were not permitted to see Atlante, he had still a kind Advocate in Charlot, who was now arriv’d to her Thirteenth Year, and infinitely advanc’d in Wit and Beauty. Rinaldo therefore often goes to the Monastery, surrounding it, to see what Possibility there was of accomplishing his Design; if he could get her Consent, he finds it not impossible, and goes to visit Charlot; who had command not to see him, or speak to him. This was a Cruelty he look’d not for, and which gave him an unspeakable Trouble, and without her Aid it was wholly impossible to give Atlante any account of his Design. In this Perplexity he remain’d many Days, in which he languish’d almost to Death; he was distracted with Thought, and continually hovering about the Nunnery-Walls, in hope, at some time or other, to see or hear from that lovely Maid, who alone could make his Happiness. In these Traverses he often met Vernole, who had Liberty to see her when he pleas’d: If it happen’d that they chanc’d to meet in the Daytime, tho’ Vernole was attended with an Equipage of Ruffians, and Rinaldo but only with a couple of Footmen, he could perceive Vernole shun him, grow pale, and almost tremble with Fear sometimes, and get to the other Side of the Street; and if he did not, Rinaldo having a mortal Hate to him, would often bear up so close to him, that he would jostle him against the Wall, which Vernole would patiently put up, and pass on; so that he could never be provok’d to fight by Day-light, how solitary soever the Place was where they met: but if they chanc’d to meet at Night, they were certain of a Skirmish, in which he would have no part himself; so that Rinaldo was often like to be assassinated, but still came off with some slight Wound. This continu’d so long, and made so great a Noise in the Town, that the two old Gentlemen were mightily alarm’d by it; and Count Bellyaurd came to De Pais, one Day, to discourse with him of this Affair; and Bellyaurd, for the Preservation of his Son, was almost consenting, since there was no Remedy, that he should marry Atlante. De Pais confess’d the Honour he proffer’d him, and how troubled he was, that his Word was already past to his Friend, the Count Vernole, whom he said she should marry, or remain for ever a Nun; but if Rinaldo could displace his Love from Atlante, and place it on Charlot, he should gladly consent to the Match. Bellyaurd, who would now do anything for the Repose of his Son, tho’ he believ’d this Exchange would not pass, yet resolv’d to propose it, since by marrying him he took him out of the Danger of Vernole’s Assassinates, who would never leave him till they had dispatch’d him, should he marry Atlante.

While Rinaldo was contriving a thousand ways to come to speak to, or send Billets to Atlante, none of which could succeed without the Aid of Charlot, his Father came and propos’d this Agreement between De Pais and himself, to his Son. At first Rinaldo receiv’d it with a chang’d Countenance, and a breaking Heart; but swiftly turning from Thought to Thought, he conceiv’d this the only way to come at Charlot, and so consequently at Atlante: he therefore, after some dissembled Regret, consents, with a sad put-on Look: And Charlot had Notice given her to see and entertain Rinaldo. As yet they had not told her the Reason; which her Father would tell her, when he came to visit her, he said. Rinaldo over-joy’d at this Contrivance, and his own Dissimulation, goes to the Monastery, and visits Charlot; where he ought to have said something of this Proposition: but wholly bent upon other Thoughts, he sollicits her to convey some Letters, and Presents to Atlante; which she readily did, to the unspeakable Joy of the poor Distrest. Sometimes he would talk to Charlot of her own Affairs; asking her, if she resolv’d to become a Nun? To which she would sigh, and say, If she must, it would be extremely against her Inclinations; and, if it pleas’d her Father, she had rather begin the World with any tolerable Match.

Things past thus for some Days, in which our Lovers were happy, and Vernole assur’d he should have Atlante. But at last De Pais came to visit Charlot, who ask’d her, if she had seen Rinaldo? She answer’d, ‘She had.’ ‘And how does he entertain you? (reply’d De Pais) Have you receiv’d him as a Husband? and has he behav’d himself like one?’ At this a sudden Joy seiz’d the Heart of Charlot; and both to confess what she had done for him to her Sister, she hung down her blushing Face to study for an Answer. De Pais continued, and told her the Agreement between Bellyaurd and him, for the saving of Bloodshed.

She, who blest the Cause, whatever it was, having always a great Friendship and Tenderness for Rinaldo, gave her Father a thousand Thanks for his Care; and assur’d him, since she was commanded by him, she would receive him as her Husband.

And the next Day, when Rinaldo came to visit her, as he us’d to do, and bringing a Letter with him, wherein he propos’d the flight of Atlante; he found a Coldness in Charlot, as soon as he told her his Design, and desir’d her to carry the Letter. He ask’d the Reason of this Change: She tells him she was inform’d of the Agreement between their two Fathers, and that she look’d upon herself as his Wife, and would act no more as a Confident; that she had ever a violent Inclination of Friendship for him, which she would soon improve into something more soft.

He could not deny the Agreement, nor his Promise; but it was in vain to tell her, he did it only to get a Correspondence with Atlante: She is obstinate, and he as pressing, with all the Tenderness of Persuasion: He vows he can never be any but Atlante’s, and she may see him die, but never break his Vows. She urges her Claim in vain, so that at last she was overcome, and promised she would carry the Letter; which was to have her make her Escape that Night. He waits at the Gate for her Answer, and Charlot returns with one that pleased him very well; which was, that Night her Sister would make her Escape, and that he must stand in such a Place of the Nunnery-Wall, and she would come out to him.

After this she upbraids him with his false Promise to her, and of her Goodness to serve him after such a Disappointment. He receives her Reproaches with a thousand Sighs, and bemoans her Misfortune in not being capable of more than Friendship for her; and vows, that next Atlante, he esteems her of all Womankind. She seems to be obliged by this, and assured him, she would hasten the Flight of Atlante; and taking leave, he went home to order a Coach, and some Servants to assist him.

In the mean time Count Vernole came to visit Atlante; but she refused to be seen by him: And all he could do there that Afternoon, was entertaining Charlot at the Grate; to whom he spoke a great many fine Things, both of her improved Beauty and Wit; and how happy Rinaldo would be in so fair a Bride. She received this with all the Civility that was due to his Quality; and their Discourse being at an End, he took his Leave, being towards the Evening.

Rinaldo, wholly impatient, came betimes to the Corner of the dead Wall, where he was appointed to stand, having ordered his Footmen and Coach to come to him as soon it was dark. While he was there walking up and down, Vernole came by the End of the Wall to go home; and looking about, he saw, at the other End, Rinaldo walking, whose Back was towards him, but he knew him well; and tho’ he feared and dreaded his Business there, he durst not encounter him, they being both attended but by one Footman a-piece. But Vernole’s Jealousy and Indignation were so high, that he resolved to fetch his Bravoes to his Aid, and come and assault him: For he knew he waited there for some Message from Atlante.