The parting of Horatio and mademoiselle Charlotta, and what happened after she left St. Germains.

A peal of thunder bursting over her head, could not have been more alarming to mademoiselle Charlotta than the news she now heard; but her father commanded, the princess had consented, and there was no remedy to be hoped: she took leave of her royal mistress with a shower of unfeigned tears, after which she retired to her apartment to prepare for quitting it, while the baron went to pay his compliments to some of the gentlemen at that court.

To be removed in this sudden manner she could impute to no other motive than that the love of Horatio had by some accident been betrayed to her father, (for she never so much as thought of monsieur de Coigney;) and the thoughts of being separated from him was so dreadful, that till this fatal moment she knew not how dear he was to her:--to add to the calamity of her condition, he was that morning gone a hunting with the Chevalier St. George, and she had not even the opportunity of giving him the consolation of knowing she bore at least an equal part in the grief this unexpected accident must occasion. Mademoiselle de Coigney came to take leave of her, as did all the ladies of the queen's train as well as the princess's, and expressed the utmost concern for losing so agreeable a companion; but these ceremonies were tedious to her, and as she could not see Horatio, she dispatched every thing with as much expedition as her secret discontent would permit her to do, and then sent to let her father know she was ready to attend him.

When they were in the coach both observed a profound silence for some time; at last, I hope Charlotta, said the baron, you have no extraordinary reasons to be troubled at leaving St. Germains? none, my lord, answered she, of so much moment to me as the fears my sudden removal is owing to your being dissatisfied with my conduct. I flatter myself, resumed he, you are conscious of nothing which should authorize such an apprehension:--you have had an education which ought to inform you that persons of your sex and age are never to act in any material point of themselves:--but courts are places where this lesson is seldom practised; and tho' the virtues of the English queen and princess are a shining example to all about them, yet I am of opinion that innocence is safest in retirement.

As she was fully convinced in her mind that it was only owing to some jealousy of her behaviour that she had been taken from St. Germains, and also that it was on the score of Horatio, she would not enquire too deeply for fear of giving her father an opportunity of entering into examinations, which she thought she could not answer without either injuring the truth, or avowing what would not only have incensed him to a very great degree, but also put him upon measures which would destroy even the most distant hope of ever seeing Horatio more. He, on his side, would not acquaint her with the sentiments which the above-mentioned suggestions had inspired him with, thinking he should discover more of the truth by keeping a watchful eye over her behaviour without seeming to do so.

During the time of their little journey from the palace of St. Germains to Paris, where monsieur the baron de Palfoy ordinarily resided, nothing farther was discoursed on: but when they arrived, and mademoiselle Charlotta had opportunity of reflecting on this sudden turn, she gave a loose to all the anxieties it occasioned:--she was not only snatch'd from the presence of what was most dear to her on earth, but as she had no confidante, nor durst make any, was also without any means either of conveying a letter to him, or receiving the least intelligence from him.

She had been in Paris but a very little time before she perceived the baron artfully kept her in the most severe restraint under a shew of liberty; pretending to her, as he had done to the princess, that he was not well enough to go abroad, he would stay at home whole days together, and oblige her to read, or play to him on the spinnet, which frequently she did with an aking heart; and when she went out, it was always in company with a relation whom he kept at his house on purpose, as he said, as a companion to divert her, but in reality to be a spy over all her actions; and had orders to dive, by all the insinuations she was mistress of, into her very thoughts. All this mademoiselle Charlotta had penetration enough to discover, and, spite of the discontent she laboured under, so well concealed what they endeavoured to find out, that all the traps laid for her were wholly ineffectual.

But in what manner did the enamoured Horatio support so cruel an affliction! he was no sooner informed at his return from hunting of what had happened, than he was seized with agonies, which, in the force he did himself to conceal, threw him into a fever that confined him to his bed for several days: as his passion for mademoiselle Charlotta was not in the least suspected, every body imputed his disorder to be occasioned by having over-heated himself in the chace, and during his indisposition was visited by all the court:--the Chevalier St. George sent two or three times a day to enquire of the health of his countryman, as he was pleased to call him, and gave him many other tokens how greatly he was in his favour; but all the civilities he received were not capable of lessening the anguish of his mind, which kept his body so weak, that tho' youth and an excellent constitution threw off the fever in a short time, yet he was unable to quit his chamber in near three weeks, and when he did, appeared so wan and so dejected, that he seemed no more than the shadow of the once gay and sprightly Horatio.

But while he was thus sinking under the burden of his griefs, and despairing ever to see his adorable Charlotta any more, fate was providing for him a relief as unexpected as the cause of his present unhappy situation had been, and to the very same persons also was he indebted both for the one and the other.

Young monsieur de Coigney was not less alarmed than Horatio at the removal of Charlotta, tho' it had not the same effect on him; he was continually teizing his sister to make her a visit and repeat her intercessions in his behalf; but she had received such tart answers on that score, that she was very unwilling to undertake the embassy: however, she complied at last, and was received by mademoiselle Charlotta in the most obliging manner, but had not the least opportunity of executing her commission, that lady having a good deal of company with her, whom she purposely detained to avoid entering into any particular conversation with her, till the hour in which she knew her attendance on the queen would oblige her to take leave.

The baron de Palfoy was at that time abroad; but when he was informed who had been there, was a little disturbed that the sister of de Coigney endeavoured still to keep up her intimacy with his daughter, not doubting but she had either brought some letter or message from him, as he was fully persuaded in his mind that there was a mutual affection between them; but he took no notice of it as yet, thinking that probably she might make a second visit, and that then he should be better able to judge of the motive.

In the mean time the father of monsieur de Coigney being informed of these proceedings, thought it beneath his son to carry on a clandestine courtship; and the great share he possessed of the royal favour, he having been instrumental in gaining some point in the parliament of Paris, rendered him vain enough to imagine his alliance would not be refused, tho' there was a superiority both of birth and fortune on the side of monsieur the baron de Palfoy.

In a perfect confidence of succeeding in his request, he went to his house, and, after some little preparation, proposed a match between his son and mademoiselle de Palfoy. The baron was not at all surprized at what he said, because he expected, if the young people were kept asunder, an offer would be made of this kind; and after hearing calmly all he had to say, in order to induce him to give his consent, he told him, that he was very sorry he had asked a thing which it was impossible to grant, because he had already determined to dispose otherwise of his daughter. Monsieur de Coigney then asked to whom. I know not as yet, replied the other, but when I said I had determined to dispose her otherways, I only meant to one who is of blood at least equal to her own, and who has never, by any public debaucheries, rendered himself contemptible to the discreet part of mankind.

De Coigney knew not how either to put up or resent this affront; he knew very well that his son had behaved so as to give cause for it, yet thought he had other perfections which might over-balance what, by a partial indulgence, he looked upon only as the follies of youth; and as for the reflection on his family, he told the other, that whatever he was he owed to the merit of his ancestors, not his own, and that he doubted not but his son would one day raise his name equal to that of Palfoy. In fine, the pride of the one, and the vanity of the other, occasioned a contest between them, which might have furnished matter for a scene in a comedy had any poet been witness of it: the result of it was that they agreed in this to be mutually dissatisfied with each other, never to converse together any more, and to forbid all communication between their families.

The baron went immediately to his daughter's chamber, and having ordered her maid, who was then doing something about her, to leave the room, I have wondered, Charlotta, said he, with a countenance that was far from betraying the secret vexation of his mind, that you have never, since your coming to Paris, expressed the least desire of making a visit at St. Germains, tho' the duty you owe a princess, who seems to have a very great affection for you, might well have excused any impatience you might have testified on that score; besides, you owe a visit to mademoiselle de Coigney.

The princess merits doubtless all the respect I am able to pay her, answered she; but, my lord, as it was your pleasure to remove me from that palace, I waited till your command should licence my return; as for mademoiselle de Coigney, the intimacy between us will excuse those ceremonies which are of little weight where there is a real friendship.

These words confirming all the baron's suspicions, he thought there was no need of farther dissimulation, and the long-conceived indignation burst out in looks more furious than the trembling Charlotta had ever seen in him before.--Yes, degenerate girl! said he, I have but too plain proofs of the friendship in which you have linked yourself with the family of the de Coigney's;--but tell me, continued he, how dare you engage yourself so far without my knowledge? could you ever hope I would consent to an alliance with de Coigney?

De Coigney! cried she, much more assured than she had been before the mention of that name, heaven forbid you should have such a thought!

The resolution and disdain with which she spoke these words a little surprized him: what, cried he, have you not encouraged the addresses of young de Coigney, and even proceeded so far as to make his father imagine there required no more than to ask my consent to a marriage between you!

How much courage does innocence inspire? Charlotta, of late so timid and alarmed while she thought Horatio was in question, was now all calmness and composure, when she found de Coigney the person for whom she had been suspected. She confessed to her father, with the most settled brow, that he had indeed made some offers of an affection for her, but said, she had given him such answers, as nothing but the height of arrogance and folly could interpret to his advantage; and then, on the baron's commanding her, acquainted him with every particular that had passed between that young gentleman, his sister, and herself, touching the affair she was accused of.

She was so minute in every circumstance, answered with such readiness to all the questions he asked of her, and seemed so perfectly at ease, as indeed she was, that the baron could no longer have any doubts of her sincerity, and was sorry he had taken her so abruptly from St. Germains: he now told her, that she was at liberty to visit there as frequently as she pleased, only, as he had been affronted by old monsieur de Coigney, as well as to silence all future reports concerning the young gentleman, he expected she would break off all acquaintance with mademoiselle. She assured him of her obedience in this point, and added, that she could do it without any difficulty; for tho' she was a lady who had many good qualities, and one for whom she once had a friendship, yet the taking upon her to forward her brother's designs had occasioned a strangeness between them, which had already more than half anticipated his commands.

Monsieur the baron de Palfoy was now as well satisfied with his daughter as he had lately been the reverse, and she was allowed once more all those innocent liberties which the French ladies, above those of any other nation in the world, enjoy.

It is not to be doubted but that the first use she made of liberty was to go to St. Germains: she had heard from mademoiselle de Coigney, when she came to visit her, that Horatio had been very much indisposed, and at that time was not quite recovered, and was impatient to give him all the consolation that the sight of her could afford; but fearing she should not have an opportunity of speaking to him in private, she wrote a letter, containing a full recital of the reason which had induced her father to take her from St. Germains, and the happy mistake he had been in concerning de Coigney; concluding with letting him know he might sometimes visit her at Paris as an indifferent acquaintance, not the least suspicion being entertained of him, and the baron now in so good a humour with her, that it would not be easy for any one to make him give credit to any informations to her prejudice. The whole was dictated by a spirit of tenderness, which, tho' it did not plainly confess an affection, implied every thing an honourable lover could either expect or hope.

On her arrival at St. Germains, where there was an extreme full court to congratulate the princess Louisa, on the great victories lately gained by Charles XII. the brave king of Sweeden, to whom she had been some time contracted, she passed directly to her highness's apartment; and the Chevalier St. George being then with her, those of his Gentlemen who had attended him thither, were waiting in the antichamber: among them was Horatio: the alteration of his countenance on sight of her, after this absence, was too visible not to have been remarked, had not all present been too busy in paying their compliments to her, to take any notice of it. He was one of the last that approached, being willing to recover the confusion he felt himself in, lest it should have an effect on his voice in speaking to her. She, more prepared, received his salute with the same gay civility she did the others, but at the same instant slipped the letter she had brought with her into his hand.

Any one who is in the least acquainted with the power of love, may guess the transports of Horatio at this condescension; but, impatient to know the dear contents, he went out of the room as soon as he found he could do it without being observed, and having perused this obliging billet, found in it a sufficient cordial to revive that long languishment his spirit had been in.

At his return he found her engaged in conversation with several gentlemen and ladies: he mingled in the company, but could expect no other satisfaction from it than being near his dear Charlotta, and hearing her speak. The Chevalier St. George soon after came out, and he was obliged with the rest of his train to quit the place, which at present contained the object of his wishes. She went in immediately after to the princess, so he saw her no more that day at St. Germains.

All that now employed his thoughts was a pretence to visit her at her father's house; for tho' she had told him in her letter that he might come as an ordinary acquaintance, yet knowing that the continuance of their conversation depended wholly on the secrecy of it, he was willing to avoid giving even the most distant occasions of suspicion.

Fortune, hitherto favourable to his desires, now presented him with one more ample than any thing his own invention could have supplied him with: happening to be at Paris in the company of some friends, with whom he stayed later than ordinary, he was hurrying thro' the streets in order to go to the inn where his servant and horses waited for him, when he heard the clashing of swords at some distance from him: guided by his generosity, he flew to the place where the noise directed him, and saw by the lights, which hang out very thick in that city, one person defending himself against three who pressed very hard upon him, and had got him down just as Horatio arrived to his relief: he ran among the assaillants; and either the greatness of his courage, or the belief that others would come to his assistance, threw them into such a consternation, that they all sought their safety in their flight, while the person they had attacked got up again and thanked his deliverer, without whose timely aid, he said, he could have expected nothing but death: those who set upon him being robbers, and, as he perceived by their behaviour, desperate wretches, who were for securing themselves by taking the lives, as well as money, of those who were too weak to resist them: he pointed to a dead body on the ground, who he told Horatio was his servant, and had been killed in his defence.

But how transported was our young lover when, he found that the person to whom he had done so signal a piece of service, was the father of his mistress. As he perceived he had some wounds, tho' they proved but slight, he compleated the obligation he had began to confer, by supporting him under the arm till he got home, where the baron made him enter with him, and would have prevailed with him to stay all night; but Horatio told him he could not well dispense with being absent from his post; that it was highly proper he should return to St. Germains that night late as it was, but would do himself the honour of waiting on him the next day to enquire after the state of the wounds he had received.

Mademoiselle Charlotta was gone to bed; but being rouzed by the accident, no sooner was informed by the surgeons, who were immediately sent for, that there was nothing dangerous in the hurts her father had received, than she blessed heaven for making Horatio the instrument of his preservation. The sense the baron seemed to have of this obligation, and the praises he bestowed on the gallant manner in which the young gentleman came to his relief, made her almost ready to flatter herself that fate interested itself in behalf of their love; and indeed monsieur the baron, notwithstanding the haughtiness of his nature, had the most just notions of gratitude; and to testify it to Horatio, would have refused him scarce any thing except his daughter. But however that should happen, she still found more and more excuses for indulging the inclinations she had for him; and tho' she yet had never given him any such assurances, yet she resolved in her own mind, to live only for him.

The baron being obliged to keep his bed for several days, Horatio had a pretence for repeating his visits to him during this time of his confinement, and afterwards went often by invitation; the other, besides the obligation he had to him, finding something extremely pleasing in his conversation, to which (not to take from Horatio's merits) the obsequiousness he found no difficulty in himself to behave with towards a Man of his age, his quality, and above all, the father of Charlotta, not a little contributed.

The lovers had now frequent opportunities of entertaining each other both at Paris and St. Germains: nor were any of those demonstrations which virtue and innocence permitted, wanting between them, to render them as perfectly easy as people can possibly be, who have yet something to desire, and much to fear. But as smooth as now their fortune seemed, they knew not how soon a storm might rise, and give a sudden interruption to that felicity they enjoyed.--The charms of Charlotta were every day making new conquests; and among the number of those who pretended to admire her, how probable was it that some one might be thought worthy by her father, and she be compelled to receive the addresses of a rival. These were reflections too natural not to occur to them both, and whenever they did, could not fail of embittering those sweets the certainty of a mutual affection had otherwise afforded.

They had now no trouble from monsieur de Coigney; his father, in order to make him forget a hopeless passion, had found an employment for him which obliged him to go many leagues from Paris; and once the conversation already mentioned at the baron's, his sister and mademoiselle Charlotta, by command of their respective parents, as well as their own inclinations, broke off all correspondence, nor even spoke to each other, unless when happening to meet in a visit, there was no avoiding it; and then it was in such a distant manner, and with so much indifference, that none would have imagined they ever had been intimate friends and companions.