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THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES Of the Young Count ALBERTUS, The Son of Count Lewis Augustus, by the Lady Lucy.
Madam,
It was with the utmost Satisfaction that I received the Honour of
your G—'s Letter, in which you seem pleased with the unfortunate Lady
Lucy's Story, and to intimate, that you would be glad to know what
befel her illustrious Son, who had been so miraculously preserved from
Death, and of whose Adventures you have had some slight Account, but
only such as could raise, not satisfy your Curiosity. This was enough
to excite me to use the utmost Diligence to get Knowledge of this brave
Man's Life, Actions, and Death; and though his Life was not very long,
yet it was passed with such Honour, and his End was so pious and
heroick, that it well deserves to be transmitted to Posterity. And
having now gotten a perfect Account of all Particulars, I have
composed this short Narrative, and presumed to send it to your G—,
hoping it will contribute something to your Diversion, in your leisure
Hours, and coming in the Dress of your native Country, be more
agreeable. I beg that you would pardon my Presumption, and excuse the
many Defects you will find in perusing of it, in Consideration of the
Affection and Respect which I have ever had for your G—; the which
no Time or Change of Fortune can diminish, and which must rather
augment to the last Hour of my Life; for I shall ever be with the
utmost Sincerity, and most profound Veneration,
Your G—'s
Most Devoted
Humble Servant,
Penelope Aubin.
The young Count Albertus having buried his noble Father and Mother, passed some Years very happily with his virtuous Wife, the beautiful Catharine, the brave Alonzo's Sister, who was endowed with every Qualification that could recommend a Woman to the World, or make a Husband blessed; for she was prudent, wise, good-humoured, generous and chaste, and nothing was wanting to complete their Felicity but Children; of which this noble Couple never had any. They had been married four Years and three Months when this Lady fell sick of a Fever, which in nine Days (all Medicines proving ineffectual) ended her Life, and left the Count her Husband quite over-whelmed with Grief; and he fell into so deep a Melancholy, that he quitted his Place at Court, and took Leave of his Friends, having committed the Care of his Estate to his Sisters, and settled all his Affairs. He set out for France, resolving to make the Tour of Europe, to divert his Grief with seeing other Countries: So he first visited Paris, and passed the Winter there, (it being Autumn when he set out from Heidleberg) and there saw the Court, and all that was rare and worth a Stranger's Curiosity, visiting Versailles, Fountainebleau, Marli, and all the King's Palaces and Gardens, with those of most of the Nobility; and in this Manner became acquainted with and much esteemed by People of the first Rank. But above all, he frequented the Company of learned Men, and coveted the Friendship of such of the Clergy who were most eminent for their Piety; and by continually conversing with them, doubtless conceived a Liking to their Way of Life, and resolved upon embracing it, as the Sequel shewed: But it was some Years before he renounced the World; in which Time he met with some extraordinary Adventures, which, as is supposed, confirmed him in his Dislike to the World, and determined his Choice of a religious Life; in which he behaved himself as became a good Pastor and a Saint, and fully answered the Prediction the good Father Joseph had received from the Voice that raised him from Sleep, to save the Life of the Lady Lucy, and her unborn Infant.
And now I shall proceed to relate all that happened to this Lord before he became a Monk, and then to speak of his perillous Voyages, the strange Adventures he met withal in travelling over the greater Part of the World; of his various Sufferings, and glorious End, when he quitted this World for his Saviour's sake, and sealed the Truths he had taught with his Blood. In all which I shall endeavour not to tire, but to give a brief and exact Account of the Matters of Fact, so that the Reader may be pleased and agreeably entertained.
During Count Albertus's Stay at Paris, he contracted a mighty Friendship with a young Gentleman, one of the most accomplished and most learned for his Age in all that City: He was but twenty five Years old, the Son of a Country Gentleman, who, though he had but a small Estate, yet had given him the best Education that was possible; his Name was Monsieur de Lorme, a Native of Languedoc. He lived in Paris as a private Gentleman, but his Lodgings were magnificently furnished, and his Dress was such as would have better become a Duke than a private Person; he kept a Valet de Chambre and two Footmen, was lavish in his Expences, and yet never in Debt; he kept the best of Company, and so behaved himself, that every body loved him; he never gamed nor committed any Debauch, was sober and polite, had a very lovely Person, and was neither vain nor proud. All the World wondered how he lived at this rate, since he had no Employ in the Government, nor any Estate, his Father's being scarce sufficient to support his Family genteelly; for he had two Daughters, who were esteemed Beauties, highly bred like the Son, but remained unmarried, because they had no Portions, and were too ambitious to marry Tradesmen, and had too much Virtue to be Mistresses to Noblemen. Count Albertus meeting with this young Gentleman in Company, they took a fancy to one another and became extremely intimate, so that they were daily together; yet it was long before the Count took the Liberty to ask him, one Day when they were in private, how he supported himself after such a Manner? He seemed confused at this Question, and made no direct Answer, but turned the Discourse: On which the Count asked his Pardon, and said no more: Yet his Curiosity was augmented, and he began to suspect that there was some great Mystery in this Man's way of Life, and that he supported himself by some unlawful Means. He therefore resolved to observe his Actions more narrowly, and having a great Affection for him, to draw him off from any evil Course of Life that he might perhaps be involved in: In order to this, he often went to his Lodgings, sometimes very early in the Morning, at other late at Night, thinking to discover what Company he kept, or how he was employed. One Evening, going there as usual, he found him sitting very pensive in an easy Chair: 'My Friend, said he, you could never have come at a more seasonable Time; for I am very much embarrassed, having two Amours upon my Hands at the same Hour.' At these Words he rose, and shutting the Door, returned to his Seat, and continued his Discourse in these Words; 'Dear Albertus, said he, you have, I doubt not, long wondered how I live, so handsomly, having no great Fortune of my own; and now I must divulge the Secret to you. I have the good Fortune to be loved by two Ladies of great Quality, the one a married, the other a single Lady; they are both beautiful, and every way charming; but the single one has my Heart. I courted her secretly; her Station being so far above mine, that I can never hope to have her lawfully: I ran a thousand Risques to get her, and at length obtained my Suit: She yielded to my Desires, having bound me by a thousand Oaths and Vows to be faithful and secret to her; and we have mutually promised never to marry but one another. She has a vast Fortune, the Revenues of which she has at her Dispose; but the Principal is so secured in her Relations Hands, that she is not the Mistress of it; nor can she ever marry without their Consent, unless she escapes from France, and then her Fortune will never be surrendered to her. Her Name shall ever be a Secret; therefore I shall call her Violante. We have already had one Child, which is at Nurse at a Village near a Country Seat of one of her Guardians, to which she often resorts. 'Twas there where I found Opportunities of seeing her; and I will another Time relate to you the Particulars of this Affair. She supplies me largely with Money out of her Income; and if I had not engaged myself in another Intrigue with a married Lady, I had been tolerably happy. But the charming Silvia, for so I shall name my other Mistress, saw me often at Court, and condescended to invite me to her Embraces by a Billet-doux; and who could refuse the Offer, where such Beauty and Interest joined to obtain Affection? I fell into the Snare, and have for three Months past been indulged in the Enjoyment of two of the fairest and richest Ladies in France: But as the most delicious Meats cloy the soonest, so these Pleasures begin to tire me. Silvia is rash, violent, and impatient of any Disappointment, fond of me to a Folly; and should she discover that I am false to her, and get the least Knowledge of my Engagement with Violante, I doubt not but that she would sacrifice us both to her Revenge. Just before you entered I received a Note from Violante, That she is indisposed, and expects me to come and pass the Night with her in the Country; her Waiting-woman and Page are our Confidents, and by them I am introduced into her Apartment at any Hour; and the Nurse's House is my Retreat, where I lye concealed to wait my Violante's Commands. You see that I cannot refuse going to her this Night, since she is indisposed: Now what distracts me is, that I have also received another Note from Silvia; who sends me Word, that her Lord goes a hunting with the Mareschal his Brother to-morrow, and is gone to lye at his Seat this Night; and therefore she comes to pass it with me. She always comes late, and goes away before Day; and I must beg you this once to supply my Place: You need only go to Bed before she comes, and pretend that you could not get rid of some Company any other Way, and that you are indisposed. I know that you are virtuous, and will not make any Advantage of such an Opportunity; but if you do, it will not offend me, so long as she does not discover the Cheat: Our Voices and Persons are not unlike, and by speaking low she must be deceived.' Albertus made some Difficulty of accepting this Offer at first; but at last yielded to it, after having read him a Lecture of the Shame and Miseries such a Course of Life must bring upon him; at which he seemed to be moved, and said he wished he could handsomly get rid of his Amour with Silvia; but feared that it was impossible, by reason of her violent Temper, and great Passion for him. Well, (said Lord Albertus, ) I'll try to deliver you out of this Straight, on Condition that you will mend. They passed the Evening together, till the Dusk came: Then Monsieur de Lorme took Horse, and went to his loved Mistress; leaving Lord Albertus in his Chamber; and his own Valet de Chambre, whom he could trust with any Secret, to wait Silvia's coming, to give her the Key of his Chamber, and to tell her that he was gone to Bed very ill. All things thus disposed, Lord Albertus went to Bed, determined to play the Priest rather than the Lover, and to preach the lewd fair One into Virtue and Repentance: A hard Task, doubtless, but yet such a one, as such an excellent Man as he was ready to undertake, and hoped to effect. He had not lain long, but he heard the wanton Silvia open the Door; winged with Love, and amorous Desires, she flew to the Bed-side, seized his Hand, which he reached out of Bed to receive her, and printed melting Kisses on his Lips, which he received with some Disorder; which she did not seem to perceive, but eagerly demanded how he did: He answered in a very low and faint Voice, that he was very ill, and prest her to make haste to Bed: She soon threw off her Clothes, and locking the Door entered the Bed; where he received her not with open Arms, as his Friend was used to do; but after three or four deep-fetch'd Sighs, said, My dear Silvia, you are doubtless surprized to find me thus transformed, from a warm passionate Lover to a cold Anchorite; but I have had such a Dream, or rather Vision, the last Night, that it has quite shocked my Soul, and filled me with such dreadful Notions of that unlawful Commerce that has been between us, and such a Horror for what may be the Consequences of it, that I can no more think of continuing it: Alas, I was no sooner blessed with a kind of Slumber, which I fell into whilst I lay ruminating on your Charms, but I fancied you in my Arms; and that I heard a great Noise at the Chamber-Door, which being forced open by a Man with a Light in his Hand, I soon perceived it was your injured Husband; who flew to the Bed-side with a Fury suiting the Occasion, his Sword being drawn, he cried, Secure the Door, to some who attended him below: Methought I strove to reach my Sword to defend us, but he prevented me by a Stab which he gave me thro' my right Arm; and whilst I was seized by two Men in Vizards, you were dragg'd out of Bed by the Hair of the Head by your enraged Lord, who, after a thousand cruel Reproaches, stabb'd you to the Heart; I heard, methought, your dying Words, so moving, so repentant, that my Soul shook to hear them; nay more, I fancied that you expired at his Feet; then I awoke, all bathed in a cold, Death-like Sweat, and recollecting all the Circumstances of this dreadful Vision, well considered of it, and have passed the Day alone, meditating on the State our Souls are in: And, oh! my dear Silvia, if you would now but enter into this great Work, and think of securing our future Happiness, by converting our criminal Converse into a noble, virtuous Friendship, how happy might we be? As for my own Part, I am fully resolved to make my Peace with Heaven; and though I love you excessively, yet after this Night I will not let you run more such Risques, for fear my Dream should come to pass: Oh, could you but be sensible what my Thoughts were, when I saw you dying, you would tremble as I did. The amorous Silvia heard him with great Impatience, laughing and ridiculing all he said; nay, she called him Dreamer, and Hypochondriac, kissed and embraced him, but in vain: At length she grew angry, and said he was false and inconstant, and had surely got a new Mistress, and made this fabulous Story, only to break with her: To all which he made no other Answer but to persist in his Resolutions of Virtue, and continued to preach her into the same; at which she laughed and raved, by turns: And thus they passed the Night, till the Valet de Chambre gave Notice at the Door, that the Day approached; at which she rose, put on her Clothes, and in a very ill Humour left Albertus to take some Rest; throwing herself into the Chair which waited for her, which carried the disappointed Lady to her own Home. Lord Albertus smiled to himself, at the Conquest he had gained over such a Temptation, and at the Service he imagined that he had done his Friend, in ridding him of his wanton Mistress: So, blessing God, he committed himself into the Arms of sweet Repose, and slept till the Morning; when Monsieur De Lorme being returned from the Country, waked him by entering the Chamber. Lord Albertus related to him all that had passed between him and Silvia, at which he laughed, and said he must certainly send her a Letter to excuse himself, and make Friends, for he feared her revengeful Temper. Lord Albertus did all he could to persuade him to continue the Design he had so well begun, and to break with her; but in vain, for he feared and loved her too much to part with her, besides his Interest joined to make him vicious; and alas, when Men are once so far engaged in a lewd Course of Life, 'tis very rare that they are reclaimed, till Age, Want, and Misery make them grow Converts to Virtue: He gave Albertus an Account that he had found Violante much indisposed, that she had made her Will, and was very desirous to be secretly married to him. Lord Albertus offered him to bring a Priest, that should perform that Ceremony as privately as they desired, and that in Case of her Death, he would use all his Interest to reconcile her Family to him and the Child. He seemed over-joy'd at this Proposal; and it was resolved to be put in Practice forthwith. After Breakfast they parted, and Monsieur De Lorme sent a very amorous Letter to Silvia; who failed not to come again at Night, her Lord not returning to Paris till the next Day; yet although she dissembled her Anger for the last Night's Disappointment, she from that Hour began to harbour some Suspicions of him, that he had some other Mistress, and resolved to have him watched so narrowly, that it should be impossible for him to avoid being discovered; but he redoubled his Caresses to her, and they parted mutually pleased in all Appearance. Lord Albertus, according to his Promise, found a Cordelier, to whom he related the Affair between Violante and Monsieur De Lorme, and prevailed upon him to run the Risque of marrying them; and some Nights after, Lord Albertus, with his Friend, and the good Monk, went together to the indisposed Violante, for she still continued sick, who was before prepared to receive them: And there, in her Chamber, Monsieur De Lorme and she were married, to the great Satisfaction of them all. Returning back to Paris, Lord Albertus said all he could possibly to persuade his Friend to live a new Life, and to quit the Conversation of all other Women but his Wife, which he promised to do, but was not so fortunate as to perform; for Violante's Illness continuing, occasioned him to go more frequently to her, and this obliged him to have less frequent Meetings with Silvia, which more confirmed her jealous Suspicions of him; so she set her Page to dodge him, who soon discovered the fatal Secret of his going to Violante's Country Seat, and of the Nurse's House, and the innocent Child's being there, but not of his being married; and now Silvia's Rage was such, that she lost all Patience, yet knew not what Revenge to take, and she was long debating that in her distracted Mind, at length she resolved to take the first Opportunity of her Lord's Absence to follow him to Violante's, and take Revenge upon her Rival; and it was not long before Fortune gratified her Wishes, for her Lord went from Home on some Business, and left her at Liberty to watch her Lover. One Night, when having sent a Note that she would pass the Night with him, and received an Excuse that he was engaged to go out of Town that Evening with some Friends, she put on a Man's riding Habit, and took Horse, being attended with none but her Page, and went to the Village and stopt at the Nurse's Door, pretending that she was a Gentleman belated, and desired that she and her Page might be lodged there that Night: The Nurse at first excused it, saying she had no Accommodations for such fine People; but at last, being tempted with Money, and overcome with Importunities, she yielded to let them have her Chamber; and they said they should be gone as soon as it was Day, so she put their Horses into an old Stable, and they went up into her Chamber. This was before Monsieur De Lorme arrived, which was always late: He came in soon after, and they heard all his Talk with the Nurse, and heard him caress the Child, and talk of the sick Lady, but he did not mention her Name: But he stayed not long before he went away to Violante; then Silvia and her Page, the Nurse being laid down to sleep, left the House, stealing away the Child, which Silvia gave to her Page to take Care of; they mounted their Horses, went to Violante's, and watching there, saw Monsieur De Lorme passing up and down the Chamber with a dark Lanthorn in his hand. This was enough to satisfy Silvia's Curiosity sufficiently, and fearing to be discovered, she contented herself with having got the Child, believing by that Means to force her Lover to be her Slave for the future, for fear of being discovered to her Rival's Guardians: Thus resolved, and triumphing in her Success, she returned to Paris, and there sent her Page with the Child to his Mother's, having kissed and hugged it a thousand times; it was a lovely Boy, of thirteen Months old. No Words can express the trouble Monsieur De Lorme was in, when he returned to the Nurse's in the Morning, whom he found in the utmost Distraction for the Child; from her he learned the Story of the Gentleman and his Servant's being there, and from their Description began to suspect, that Silvia was the Author of this Mischief, and that she had discovered the fatal Secret; nor did he doubt but that she would be Violante's Ruin: So he returned to Paris in the greatest Dilemma that ever Man was in, and immediately sent for Lord Albertus, to whom he told all that had happened to him, and he was of the same Opinion with Monsieur De Lorme concerning Silvia, and reproached him with his Fault in continuing his Intrigue with her, but too late; he advised him to take no Notice to her of any thing, but to carry it very kindly as heretofore, to see if she would speak any thing of it herself; and then to turn it off, by saying it was only a Friend's Child which he took Care of, and no Intrigue of his own, at least only with a mean Person, not worth her Notice. This was resolved upon, and that very Evening she came to visit him, but not to pass the Night, her Lord being returned home: He received her as usual, but she rallied, and seemed not so kind as before; asked him how he had passed the last Night, where he had been, and such odd Questions; to which he gave proper Answers. After some Time, they parted, with many endearing Expressions on both Sides, and he was an hundred times going to ask for his Child, for whom he was in the utmost Pain, but durst not. Some Days passed in this Manner, when a Letter came from Violante, to inform him, that her Guardians had received a Letter from an unknown Hand, to acquaint them that she had had a Child, and the Place where it was nursed, that her Lover visited her by Night, but made no Mention of his Name; in fine, that she was just going to be carried away, she knew not whither, when her Page gave her timely Notice; so that she had escaped to a neighbouring Convent, where she had taken Sanctuary, and waited his coming to her; but she beg'd that it might be very secretly, for fear of exposing himself to her Guardians, who were as yet Strangers to that Part of the Secret. His Trouble was inexpressible at the Receipt of this Letter, and just as he held it in his Hand, came in the cruel, enraged Silvia, secretly triumphing that her Revenge had so far succeeded; she seemed very gay and merry, took no Notice of the Letter which he put into his Pocket in great Confusion as she entered, nay she caressed him in an extraordinary Manner, which he returned but faintly: He had sent for Lord Albertus, and wished for his coming every Moment, but Fate had decreed that he should come too late to serve him; for this Lady's Husband had for a long Time been jealous of her, but could never make a full Discovery of her Falshood, till she stole the Child, which she was extremely fond of, and visited daily, in her Chair, when she went to Church in the Morning, which she seldom omitted; her Lord had employed one of his Domesticks to watch her, and imagined the Child was hers, she never having had any by him, and now he waited only to discover the hated Man who had thus dishonoured him: And this was no hard Matter to do, for Monsieur De Lorme's Lodgings were not far off, thither she was dodged, and soon followed by her enraged Lord: Her Lover and she were seated on the Bed, when he entered the Room, his Servants having secured the Doors below; he was masked, armed with Sword and Pistols, and said no more but, Have I found you, Strumpet? thou shalt die to repair my lost Honour. At these Words, he discharged a Pistol at her Breast, and mortally wounded her, and then, before Monsieur De Lorme could rise to defend himself, he ran him quite through the Body, and so left them dying on the Bed, weltering in their Blood; locking the Door, he retreated to his Coach, which having six Horses soon carried him out of Paris, and he got to Calais and crossed over to England, before any Pursuit was made after him; and soon after returned to France, such Interest being made for him, that he was not prosecuted: The Fact could not possibly be proved upon him, being masked, and his Servants were not present to see it. But now to return to the dying Lovers: Lord Albertus, who was engaged with some Company when the Messenger came from Monsieur De Lorme, which prevented his coming sooner, now came, and entering the Chamber saw this tragick Scene; Silvia was near expiring, but Monsieur De Lorme was not; she made a shift to tell where she had placed the Child, and how she got Possession of it, so bewailing her Crimes, she expired before a Priest could come to assist her in her last dreadful Moments of Life: Thus the Divine Providence, as a just Punishment for her enormous Crime, snatched her away in a Moment unprepared for Death; but Monsieur De Lorme lived till the next Morning, and had Time to fit himself for his Change; in order to which, Lord Albertus and the good Cordelier attended, and assisted him in all they were able. The Lady's Body being put into a Chair was carried to her own Home, so secretly, that nothing of the Adventure was known, but the Family gave out she died suddenly, and she was privately interred in the Vault of the Family. Monsieur De Lorme was reported to be dead of a Wound he received in a Rencounter he had in the Street with some Thieves the Night before. And thus the Honour of the Family was preserved, till Time brought the Truth to Light.
Monsieur De Lorme, before he died, wrote a very tender Letter to Violante; on the Receipt of it from Lord Albertus's Hands, who carried it to her, she sent for her Guardians to the Convent, declared her Marriage, gave the Child into their Hands, renounced the World, and became a Religious; leading a most holy Life till her Death, which was two Years after Monsieur De Lorme; all that Time she languished of a Consumption, which doubtless Grief brought upon her: The Child lived, and was carefully bred up by her Guardians. And this tragick Accident confirmed Lord Albertus in his Dislike to the World, and much conduced to his renouncing of it.
Lord Albertus had also another Acquaintance, the Count D'Olone, a fine young Gentleman, but one of the most inconstant Tempers that ever Man was of; he was very handsom, very accomplished, and very rich, which gave him the Means of gaining a great many fine Ladies; and it was his ambitious Nature to strive to conquer wherever he found Resistance, and to bear no Rival in any Woman's Favour which he had once possessed, though he himself was grown to neglect her: This occasioned him often to return to the Mistress he had quitted, and renew his fond Caresses, till he had driven away his Rival, so that his whole Life was taken up in amorous Intrigues. At last, it was his Fortune to cast his Eyes upon a Citizen's Daughter at Paris, who was a perfect Beauty, and had a vast deal of Wit, together with a good Fortune: He soon made his Addresses to her, and tried all his accustomed Arts to gain her, not for a Wife, for she was not of a Birth suitable to his, and he was a professed Enemy to Marriage, but for a Mistress; but he found more Difficulty than he expected, for the fair Olymphia was sensible of her own Merit, had a numerous Train of Adorers, and thought herself good enough to be Wife to a Man of his Quality: Her Resistance pleased him, and augmented his Passion for her, so that he redoubled his Assiduity. Love and Glory now inflamed his Soul, and he could not suffer the Thought, that any of his Rivals should gain her, and rob him of the matchless Maid: Never before had he found Beauty, Wit, and Virtue so strongly united. Olymphia now reigned sole Mistress of his Heart, and he must either possess her, or die; his whole Days and Nights were employed in her Service, the most magnificent Presents were sought for, and given to the charming Olymphia, and she was carried to every Diversion; nay, he was so jealous lest any Rival should get a Moment's Audience in his Absence, that he could scarce leave her an Hour. Poor Olymphia vainly flattered herself, that he would at last marry her, and unawares grew fond of him, and her other Lovers now were treated with a kind of Disdain, which soon let the happy Count into the pleasing Secret that he was beloved; and a Man so well skilled in the Art of Love, failed not soon to make an Advantage of her Weakness, he redoubled his Attacks to gain her Heart, and carried her often to a Country Seat which he had about three Leagues from Paris, there he used to give her magnificent Treats; and thus she grew to put an intire Confidence in him, and had no Apprehensions of any Danger in his Company: (Thus foolish Women are betray'd by their own Vanity, and Confidence in that designing, faithless Sex, who study only their own Satisfaction, and despise whatever they possess.) The Count now resolved to ruin the unwary Maid, and having one Evening carried her, as usual, to his Country Seat, with a young Woman who waited on her, for she never went alone with him thither; he first regaled them magnificently, and then took them into the Gardens to walk, where in a fine banquetting House, where the Painting made it altogether delightful, and the murmuring Fountains near it, where artificial Organ-Pipes, and Flutes played by the Water, with warbling Swans and Syrens in the Basons, rendered this Place one of the most sweet and inchanting Retreats in Nature; here they sat down, and here he treated them with some of the most delicious Fruits and Wines France could furnish, passing the Time in amorous Chat, till he had gained his Ends, for he had unperceived, put a stupifying Draught in some Wine that he had given Olymphia and her Attendant, so that they both fell asleep, and he took her gently in his Arms, and carried her to his own Bed, where she lay in a profound Sleep till the next Morning; her Servant was also put to Bed, and waked not to look after the ruined Olymphia, who in vain lamented her Misfortune, while her Lover strove to comfort and appease her. But Love is a powerful Advocate, and the Day was passed in amorous toying. Olymphia's Father and Mother were dead, she was Mistress of herself and Fortune: They returned to Paris, Grief wore off, and our pleased Lovers secretly enjoyed their stolen Pleasures; the Count's Passion seemed daily to increase for her, and her Fondness for him, yet the World did not guess that things were gone so far, nor did he desire they should: She prest him often to marry her, but he always turned the Discourse with Raillery. She was still visited by Lovers, some of whom were really in Love with her Person and Sense; others, who were her Equals, sought to possess both her and her Fortune, Love and Interest uniting to engage their Affections; she received them all very civilly, and the Count's Character of being the most inconstant Man living, was so well known, and her Virtue and Reputation so well established in the Opinion of the World, that they all concluded, that the Count would be at last weary of following her, and pursue some other: In this Hope they continued their Addresses to her, which made her, and her happy Lover Diversion, and continued his Affection for her: Thus they lived happy for some Months, Jealousy blowing the Flames of Love; but at last the Rival Lovers grew weary, and gave over the Pursuit, too plainly perceiving that the Count was preferred before them; and he, thus secured of his Conquest, grew less warm, and began to treat her with less Fondness, till at length his Visits were short, and he could stay whole Days and Nights away. The wretched Olymphia now too late began to see her Misfortune, and used all Means to keep her ungrateful Lover; she wept, and reproached, embraced, and caressed him, used all the tender Arts Love could inspire, but in vain; he still loved her, 'tis true, but not with that Ardour as when he feared losing her; no more Rivals appearing, he grew dull and remiss; he was no longer in Pain when he was absent from his Mistress, nor much transported when he came to her. This surprized her more than if he had quite abandoned her, and his Indifference distracted her: Things were in this State between our Lovers, when one of her first Admirers, who still retained his Passion for her, perceiving the Count to slacken his Visits to her, returned to court her, and was not ill received; for now she was sensible of her Misfortune, and would have been glad to find a Husband to hide her Shame, and establish her in the World; for though she loved the Count beyond Expression, yet she perceived his Passion decayed, nor had she any Hopes that he would ever marry her: But he soon grew alarmed at the frequent Visits of this Rival to her, and renewed his Fondness, and Protestations of eternal Fidelity and Affection; nor would he leave her a Moment: So that in a few Days his Rival finding himself thus supplanted, left her for good, and went and married another. The Count thus quit of his Rival, grew cold and negligent as before: This amazed Olymphia, who thus reasoned with herself; 'Is it Love or Ambition that possesses my Lover's Soul, and must I still be obliged to permit the Addresses of some other Lover to recover his Love, and by Jealousy secure his Affection? I find I must either resolve to always entertain a Rival to him, or else do something very extraordinary, to convince him that I merit all his Thoughts and Attention; 'tis resolved, I will declare my Thoughts to him, and, if possible, shame him into Constancy.' Thus determined, the Count came that Evening, and Olymphia made him such tender Reproaches, that he asked Pardon, and promised to offend no more, protesting that he loved her at all times with the utmost Ardour, but seemed less passionate sometimes, because no Occasion presenting to take her Love and Company from him, he had no Opportunity to shew it in so extraordinary a Manner, but that for the future, since she liked best to see him passionate and fond, he would put no Constraint upon himself to govern his Passion: In fine, the Quarrel ended in Embraces, and for some Time they lived easy; but her extreme Fondness soon cloyed the inconstant Lover, and he came but seldom to see her, and made many Pretences to go out of Town, and stay'd sometimes a Week in the Country. This drove the faithful Olymphia almost to Despair; she writ many Letters to him full of bitter Reproaches, and such tender moving Professions of her Affection to him, that he could not find any Excuse for his Baseness, or refuse to see her; and when he came, she fell upon his Neck, and bathed his blushing Cheeks with Tears: This quite confounded him, so that at last he resolved to get rid of her altogether, in a noble Way. He had a Kinsman, as nobly born and bred as himself, and one who had indeed more good Sense than himself, and as fine a Person, but in point of Fortune much his Inferior, so that he had a great Dependance on the Count; his Name was Monsieur de Tourville, he lived with the Count, and expected to be his Heir, believing he would never marry: This Gentleman he pitched on to make a Husband to Olymphia, if he could but bring it about: So he made Friends with her, and renewed his Visits as at first, sometimes bringing his Kinsman with him to Breakfast or Supper, or to play at Cards, often leaving him and her alone, pretending Business for an Hour or two: By this Means they soon became intimate, and Olymphia's Beauty ensnared the unwary Youth, so that he began to long for her Company, was restless elsewhere, grew pensive, and shunn'd Company, the true Symptoms of that fond Passion, Love. The Count soon perceived the Change, and secretly rejoic'd to see his Plot succeed so well: And now Monsieur de Tourville began to give Olymphia some Knowledge of his Passion, and by a hundred Gallantries made known that he would make her his Wife; so well he loved, and so little suspected her Virtue with his Kinsman, who, he thought, honourably loved her, as himself; telling her, that if she was pre-ingaged to him, he would desist, and die in Silence. To which she still gave but little answer; at last he revealed his Mind to the Count, who seem'd much pleased, and professed a noble Friendship for the Lady, but declared that he had no Engagements with her; nay more, he offered to settle some Part of his Fortune on his Kinsman, to facilitate the Match, and to present him to her himself, as his Choice for her. He did so; but no Tongue or Pen can express Olymphia's Surprize, and Disorder at this Proposal: The Count gave her no Time to reflect, but pressed the Matter so home to her, and with such seeming Satisfaction, that she at last, urged by Despair and Rage, accepted the Offer. The transported Lover fell at her Feet, blessed his Kinsman, and in all his Actions so fully shewed a Man truly in Love, that she could not make any doubt of his Sincerity. Mean Time the Count, triumphing, yielded up the fair One, and idly fancied he should feel no Regret at parting with her: He left the Lover with her, and went to prepare for the Wedding, which was to be performed at his House. 'Twas late e're Monsieur de Tourville left his Mistress's Lodgings, but she was no sooner left alone, than she abandoned herself to Grief, for she, alas, loved the faithless Count, and felt all the racking Tortures Love and Despair occasion in the Breasts of desponding Lovers; and being seated on her conscious Bed, where he so often had clasped her in his Arms, and swore so many solemn Oaths and Vows, never to part with her, she wrung her Hands and beat her Breast, called on his perjured Name, and wept a Flood of Tears, then flying to her Closet, she took Pen, Ink, and Paper, and writ the following Lines to him.
'Good Heavens, is it possible, that you, cruel, ungrateful Antonio, can thus sacrifice the wretched, undone Olymphia to another? Must I be torn from you by your own cruel Hands? and must my Shame be discovered, and my Life accurst by your Means alone, you who ruined and undid me by your hellish Arts? Ah, why must I still love thee, and doat upon the Man who studies only my Destruction? 'Tis in vain to pretend that your Designs are for my Good, and that you would procure for me (since you like me no longer) a nobler Husband; no, Villain, dear perjured Antonio, I know thee too well, thou dost now hate and despise me, yet believe me, thy Soul will shake when I give my Hand to another. And then when I can be no longer thine, thou wilt grow mad, and Remorse and Love will rend thy tortured Brain; but hear me, by the bright Powers above, who are Witness to thy perjured Vows, I swear, that I will not only wed, but be faithful to the injured, honest Gentleman that marries me, and never see thee more alone, although thy Life depended on one Moment's Conversation with me. Oh! e're it is too late, save both thyself and me from utter Ruin and Despair, or I shall be mad at last, and act some monstrous Deed. Farewel, think on the miserable
'Olymphia.'
This done, she went not to Bed, but passed the Night in Tears: Next Morning she sent this Letter by her Waiting-Maid to the Count, who was rising with his Kinsman; so that he never read it, but only took and put it into his Pocket. In few Hours after, he and his Kinsman went to Olymphia's, whom they found in Bed, much indisposed; but the Count soon took Leave, rallied her Sickness, and leaving the Lover with her, went to prepare for the Wedding-Feast against the next Day. And now Olymphia grew calm and resigned, wiped away her Tears, and resolved to conquer the fond Passion that had undone her, and to transmit all her Esteem to him, who was going to make her happy. So she rose, and entertained him kindly: In fine, she got up early the next Morning, and was dressed as a Bride, and readily went into the Count's Coach, with a young Lady her Bridegroom's Sister, who came along with the Count and her Brother to fetch her to the Count's, in whose Chapel she was married to Monsieur de Tourville, in the Presence of several of his Friends, whom he had invited. But whilst she stood before the Altar, the Count beheld her with such Disorder, as Words cannot express; for she appeared now more beautiful than ever to his Eyes, all his Love revived; and when he heard the fatal Words fall from her Tongue, which gave her to another, the cold Sweat trickled down his pale Cheeks, and his Limbs all shivered; and had he not drop'd down in a Swoon, he had certainly stopp'd the Ceremony, and exposed himself and her.
This the justly incensed Olymphia saw, and saw with Pleasure; nay, she shewed not the least Concern, but the Ceremony being ended, received the usual Compliments of all the Company with Smiles. Mean Time the Count was carried away to his Chamber, and laid upon his Bed, more dead than alive. Soon after the Bride and Bridegroom, attended with all the Company, returned to the Hall. And Monsieur de Tourville, who was much concerned at his Kinsman's sudden Illness, ran up to his Chamber, raised him from his Bed, and persuaded him to come down, being something recovered; but he now beheld Monsieur de Tourville with Hatred, as an odious Rival, and could not support the Thoughts of his enjoying Olymphia; yet he faintly welcomed the Company, and entertained them nobly: But Death seemed painted in his Face, and his Eyes, which sparkled with Rage and Despair, were continually fixed upon Olymphia, in whose Face appeared so little Concern, that he was almost out of his Senses, and scarce knew how to govern himself.
The Entertainment was splendid, and the Conversation very pleasant, suiting the Occasion; though all the Company remarked his Concern, and in particular the Bridegroom, who triumphed in himself, that he had gotten Possession of the fair One and her Fortune; neither did he in the least suppose that any criminal Conversation had passed between his Bride and the Count; but imagined, that he really loved her, and fool'd himself in parting with her. Dinner being ended, dancing was proposed, Musick and Mirth filled the House, and no body was sad but the distracted Lover, who retired to his Closet, and there walked up and down torn by a thousand racking Thoughts. He now called to Mind all the happy Minutes they had passed together, and how he betrayed her Innocence, how faithful and tender she had been to him, and how ill he had used her, by so often slighting of her: In fine, the vile Deed he had done to force her to marry another, and the base Injury he did, in giving a Woman he had himself seduced, to his noble Kinsman. Thus Remorse, Despair, and Love divided his tortured Soul, and made him long in Doubt what to resolve, to remedy the Ills he had done: At last, grown faint with Passion and excessive Thinking, he sat pensive down upon a Couch, and there, with folded Arms and deep fetched Sighs, bewailed his Folly; then resolved that Olymphia should never be enjoyed by another, but that he would prevent the Bridegroom for that Night, and send him far from thence next Day: In order to which, he went down, and appeared more gay, danced and entertained the Company very handsomly, and at Supper took Care to ply the Bridegroom with Wine. When they rose from Table, they fell again to Dancing; so that it was three o'Clock in the Morning before it was proposed to put the Bride to Bed; by which Time the Bridegroom was dead drunk; besides the Count had put a stupifying Draught into a Glass of Wine, that quite benumb'd his Senses. The Bride was put to Bed, and next the senseless Bridegroom was laid by her Side. And now all the Company retiring to Rest, the Count, who had contrived to lay the new married Couple in a Chamber joining to his own, into which he could enter by a Closet where there was a private Door behind the Arras-Hangings, entered the Chamber in his Night-Gown and Shirt, his drawn Sword in his Hand, and stealing to the Bed-side lift up the Bed-Clothes, and stole into Bed, clasping Olymphia, whom Grief had thrown into a Slumber, fast in his Arms; on which she waked in a Surprize, thinking it had been her Bridegroom, but was soon undeceived, when in a soft Voice he told her, 'No, my dear Olymphia, start not, nor fly the Embraces of thy well known Antonio, who comes to rescue thee from his hated Rival's Arms; 'tis I who could not bear to think another should possess thee.' At these Words she fell in Tears, and pleaded the Danger, and the Crime, but all in vain; he vowed and swore, that Death should be his Rival's Portion, if she waked him: And thus they past the Night. When Day brake, fearing he should wake, though stupified with Opium, he stole back to his Chamber, put on his Clothes, and called the Servants up; then causing the Musick to play under the Windows, with Drums and Trumpets, rouzed the Company, and went strait to the Bridal-Chamber, and called the sleepy stupified Bridegroom up, who was in the utmost Confusion in his own Thoughts, being sensible how drunk he went to Bed, a Thing he was not used to do. Breakfast was served up, and the Bride came forth, who wisely hid her Grief at what had passed. And now to accomplish all, the Count, who had an Uncle at Rome, an Ecclesiastick immensely rich, whose Heir he was designed to be, had forged a Letter, which he pretended to have just received, being called forth from the Company by a Servant, as he had ordered. This Letter was to inform him, that his Uncle was at the Point of Death, and that he must either come himself, or send some trusty Friend to take Care of his Affairs there with all Speed, or else he would be greatly wronged. The Count seemed much concerned, and in a great Trouble what to do, pretending that it was impossible for him to go himself, by reason of his Command in the Army, having a Regiment: In fine, after many Apologies, he intreated his Kinsman to go for him, who could no ways refuse him, though very unwilling to leave his Bride; but his Dependance on the Count was very great, and that, joined with the late Obligation he had laid upon him, in facilitating his Marriage with Olymphia, and giving him an Addition to his Fortune, was such, that he was forced to yield to his Request. So he charged him with Letters to all his Friends at Rome, particularly to a Cardinal, who was his intimate Friend, desiring him to entertain, and if possible prevent his Return, by giving him some handsom Employ there, for Reasons he would give him by another Opportunity. This done, he presented a Purse of Gold to his Kinsman, and sent him away, attended only by one Servant. And now he began to recover his usual Gaiety, which all the Company took Notice of, nor was Monsieur de Tourville insensible, for he could not but make Reflections on the Count's Conduct; but he thought Olymphia virtuous, and that he was mad in Love with her; yet he feared lest she would not be long so, having observed how little Concern she shewed at his leaving her. In fine, his Soul was racked with a thousand Doubts and Fears, yet he wisely pursued his Journey, resolving not to lose his Kinsman's Friendship for a Woman, but to secure his Fortune, and to make Rome his Abode, if his Reception there was good. And now the Count entertained the Company in his stead, and the greatest Part of the Night was spent in Dancing and Mirth, till Olymphia retired to Bed; then the Company withdrew, and the amorous Count flew to her Arms. And thus they lived for some Time; during which, Monsieur de Tourville reached Rome, presented his Letter to the Cardinal, who received him very kindly, and soon got him a good Post. As for the Count's Uncle, he was very well in Health, and Monsieur de Tourville easily guest the Trick his Kinsman had put upon him, and sent several Letters to Olymphia to come to him; but always received Answers full of Excuses, sometimes she was indisposed, at others she could not think of such a Journey, unless he came to fetch her. At last, being now pretty well established in the World, and inwardly vexed at his Kinsman's Baseness to him, he resolved to fetch her; mean Time the Count having no Rival to fear, grew cool in his Affection to Olymphia as usual, and began to neglect her. This opened her Eyes to see her own Folly, and she began to think seriously of the Misery of such a way of Life. 'Alas, said she, expostulating with herself, what a Wretch am I, to love the Man that ruined me, and then was so base as to force me to marry another; yet even then I might have been happy, had I renounced all farther Converse with him, and been faithful to my Husband. I will no longer pursue my Ruin, I will quit the cruel, unkind Antonio for ever, let the Event be ever so fatal to us both, I will fly to Rome and leave him. 'Tis resolved, and if my injured Husband won't receive me, a Convent shall; there I'll make my Peace with Heaven, and hide my Shame.' These were often her Thoughts when alone, and at last she put them in Practice; for she one Morning rose before Day, having packed up what Habit and Money she thought she should want; and taking only her Maid along with her, she took Coach for Italy; leaving a Letter for the Count, which was carried to him the next Morning after she left her Home, and upon opening it he found these Words:
'Must I again reproach you, cruel Antonio, with Coldness and Unkindness, you were not content to ruin me, but must sacrifice me to another; nor did your Cruelty end there, you could not leave me to sit down in Peace with him, where I might at least have died with Honour, if Reason and Gratitude could not have conquered that fatal Affection that I still have for you: No, you must double my Torments, and my Shame, convince the World how little you esteemed me, by giving me to another, and yet fool me, with Shews of the most tender Affection and Despair, that e'er Deceiver used to ruin a fond believing Woman. But now I am at last awaked from this fatal Lethargy, and resolved to end our unhappy Friendship; I will never see France nor you again, I am going to Rome to my wronged Husband, and if he won't receive me, I will throw myself into a Convent, and try to finish my unhappy Life in Peace. Remember me no more, but in your Prayers for Pardon and Mercy for us both; and I will try, if possible, to do the same by you. Adieu for ever, most beloved, and most ungrateful of Mankind.
'Olymphia.'
The Count was in Bed when he received this Letter, but no Pen, or Tongue can express the Distraction of his Mind; his Love again revived, and it was Racks and Wheels to think another should possess Olymphia : He leaped out of Bed, was dressed in a Moment, called for his Coach, and drove to her Lodgings full speed, to see if she was gone, hoping to prevent her; and when he found her absent, behaved himself like a Madman, and abused the Servants, who were all before discharged, and packing up the Goods to be sent after her: Returning Home, he that very Night put his Affairs in Order to leave France, and the next Morning took Coach for Italy, attended only by three Servants; having got Leave to be absent from his Regiment for six Months; and all his Hopes were now to overtake and bring her back. In five Days he overtook the Stage-Coach in which she was, where she appeared deeply melancholy, and seemed unmoved at the Sight of him: He approached the Coach with such Confusion and Tenderness in his Eyes, that it was easy to see his Concern for her, and intreated her to come into his Coach; pretending, before the Company, that their Meeting was accidental, and that they were Relations: But she modestly refused so long, till at last she was constrained to accept of the Offer, and so she was obliged to enter his Coach, with her Maid, taking their Portmanteau out of the Stage-Coach; at which he was transported, and driving to the next Inn, alighted, and taking her into a Room alone, tried all the Arts, and Force of Love and Eloquence, to persuade her from her Resolution of going to Rome; but in vain: They passed that Day and Night there, which he passed most Part of at her Feet; but Olymphia now was changed, and grown inflexible, no Prayers, no Tears, or Protestations could prevail; Grace and Reason had convinced her of her former Folly, and she was a true Convert to Virtue. These were new Charms to fire his Soul; and he swore never to part with her till Death should free her from him: And being both thus resolved, he carried her to Rome, to her Husband, whose Death he was secretly resolved upon, determining to get him dispatched, that he might marry Olymphia; and it may be easily believed, that Monsieur de Tourville received his Wife but very coldly, considering who brought her: for he imagined that her unexpected Visit to him was occasioned by her having got a great Belly, and as a Means to hide her Crime; so he thanked the Count for his Care of her, and ordered an Apartment for her to lye in, for he never designed to let her lye in his: And here she lived like a Recluse, eating alone, and never stirring abroad but to Church; the Count often visited her, but she frequently refused to see him, and was continually in Tears, and in fine, behaved herself in such a Manner, that her Husband began to have favourable Thoughts of her, and sometimes passed an Hour or two in her Apartment, nay used to bring some Company to visit her; and her Beauty and Wit soon gained her Friends and Admirers. Mean Time the Count languished with Love, and Despair, and cursed his own unhappy Conduct that had undone them, and he would gladly have picked a Quarrel with his Kinsman, but that would have been to ruin all his future Designs; for if he died by his Hand, he could never possess Olymphia, and a Rival was all he wished, that he might use his Sword to get rid of him; and this he wanted not long, for a Gentleman of Rome, the Count Don Joseph de Patino, a Man in Years, but very handsom, vastly rich, and never married; being very intimate with Monsieur de Tourville, soon became so with his Wife, and the most noble and honourable Friendship grew between this unfortunate Lady and him, that ever was betwixt a Man and Woman. It must be considered that she was very much discontented, doubtless, to see herself so slighted by her Husband, and to reflect on her own hapless Condition, for she still loved the Count as at first, and laboured to subdue that Passion; and she was very sensible that her Fame was blemished in the Eyes of the World, and that she was continually exposed to the Importunities of the Man she loved: Racked by these various Thoughts, she was glad to find a Man of Honour, and a noble Friend to comfort her, and such was this brave Italian, for he was taken with her Charms, but had no ill Design upon her Virtue, and pitied her Misfortune, in having an unkind Husband: He very well saw that the Count was mad in Love with her, but from her Conduct believed that she was virtuous, and grew so fond of her Company, that he came every Day to pass some Hours with her, and frequently carried her abroad in his Coach in the Evenings, to take the Air. Mean Time the Count losing all Opportunities of being alone with Olymphia, grew almost distracted, and writ the most passionate Letters Man could invent, but got no Answer. Olymphia so well profited by the excellent Advice and virtuous Lessons that the Count de Patino gave her, that she was a perfect Votary to Virtue, and resolved to have no more to say to the Man who had been her Ruin: So the Count finding that there was no Way to regain Olymphia, but by ridding himself of both the Husband and Rival, resolved to set them together by the Ears, and began to shew more Friendship than ever to Monsieur de Tourville; for whom he soon got a better Post, and took an Opportunity one Day, when they were alone together, to open himself freely to his Kinsman in this Manner: 'Cousin, says he, you cannot but be sensible how well I love you, my Conduct has shewn it; as for your Wife, I own I had once a Passion for her, and I know the World has censured her Conduct with me, but she does not deserve it, for I always found her deaf to all Intreaties of a criminal Kind, and therefore adored her; but now I must trust you with a Secret: I am a Man unfit for the married State, and therefore gave her to you, my dearest Friend, hoping by that Means to have her Conversation and yours without Scandal to her; this is the Reason of my coming hither with her, but now, to my great Surprize and eternal Grief, I fear we have both found a Rival in her Affection, and such a one as dishonours your Bed; for alas, when you are absent, and I come here to pass an Hour or two, I find them always together, and can too easily perceive how unwelcome I am; in short, 'tis needless for me to enter into farther Particulars of all I have observed betwixt them. Though I would fain persuade myself that she is still virtuous, yet 'tis too likely she will not long continue so, if you do not remove this Rival from her Sight.' With these, and such like Discourses, he inflamed the jealous Husband, who gave but too much Credit to the latter Part of his Discourse, and little to the first, for he very well saw, that the Count was as jealous of Olymphia as he was, and doubted not but he had been as free with her before he had her, as ever the Count Joseph could be now, and therefore wished to be rid of them all three; but though he loved not Olymphia, yet he could not bear to be pointed at, and for that Reason, the next time he came, he told the Count Joseph, that he desired him to desist from visiting his Wife, and commanded her to be seen no more with him: The Count was highly incensed at such a Treatment, and such sharp Words ensued, that the Swords were drawn, and Monsieur de Tourville was run through the Body, and so unfortunately died on the Spot; and Count Joseph was wounded in the right Arm and Breast, and obliged for his own Security to fly Rome, having only Time to say to the distracted Olymyhia, who was fallen from her Chair in a Swoon, and had just recovered her Senses; Farewell, my dear Olymphia, quit the World, and give the Remainder of your unfortunate Life to God, if you will avoid being the most unhappy of all Women: I will not cease to pray for you, and I thought to have made you my Wife, but Fate has prevented it, since your Husband died by my Hand, tho' in my own Defense, for that Hand can never be joined with yours, but my Fortune you shall command if you have occasion for it. At these Words he left the Room, and going into his Coach, which waited to carry him and Olymphia abroad, drove to a Convent, where he took Sanctuary, and in three Days died of his Wounds. All this tragick Action was a Secret to the Family, till Olymphia's Lamentations reaching the Servants Ears, brought them to the Parlour, where they saw their Master lying dead on the Floor, and weltering in his Blood, his Sword lying all bloody by his Side, and they very well knew that Count Patino was all that Afternoon with their Lady, and therefore easily guessed who had done this fatal Deed; which Olymphia soon confirmed, by relating all that had passed between her dead Husband and him, before they fought: The Servants stood all amazed, and fearing to come into Trouble themselves, ran out into the Street and called in the Neighbours; the Officers of Justice soon followed, and seized Olymphia, whose Reputation was not very good before, upon the Count D'Olone's account, and they carried her to Prison, she seeming so overwhelmed with Grief, that she took no manner of notice what they did with her, nor did she make any Defense, or speak one Word in her own Behalf: No body attended her to the Prison but her Waiting-woman, the faithful Confident of all her Actions, and Officers were placed in the House, to take care of the dead Body, and Effects. During this fatal Transaction, the Count D'Olone was rid out to take the Air, and returned not to Rome till late at Night, when he called at Monsieur de Tourvulle's as he was going home, and there learned the bad News; though he was, doubtless, glad to hear of the Death of his Rival, yet that Joy was dashed by Olymphia's being imprisoned, and his Conscience reproached him, as the Cause of the too credulous Tourville's Death. He went home in great Disorder, and never closed his Eyes all Night, then he rose very early in the Morning, and went to the Prison to visit Olymphia, but was refused it, the Magistrates having ordered that no Person should be admitted to speak with her, till she had been again examined, and this put him out of all Patience; so he drove to the Cardinal's his Kinsman, who was not yet out of Bed, and he no sooner approached his Bed-side, but he began to relate his Grief for Olymphia; and sitting down on the Bed, used many Intreaties to prevail with his Eminence to use his Interest for her: But he chid him severely for keeping Company with that bad Woman, who had now been the Death of one brave Man, and in all Likelihood of two, for Count Joseph was said to be given over by the Surgeons; so he reproved the Count very sharply, and protested that he would not meddle in the Affair, but sent him away very much dejected: And now he began to see the Folly of all wicked Undertakings, but too late, and his Grief and Despair was almost insupportable. In three Days Count Joseph died, much lamented by all that knew him: Before he died he did all that was possible to clear Olymphia's Innocence; so that Monsieur de Tourville being buried by the Count his Kinsman, and all the Effects he left sold, and turned into ready Money, in a Month's Time, Olymphia was sentenced to be banished Rome and Italy for ever, and so discharged from her Confinement. The Count who had been very active in her Preservation, received her with the utmost Transports, for he thought now she would be either his Mistress or Wife, with Joy; but found himself deceived, for having modestly thanked him for his Care of her, she declared her Resolutions of leaving the World, in Terms so pious, and so moving, that he stood for some Time like a Man Planet-struck: 'Why are you thus surprized, my Lord, said she, is it strange, that after I have met with such Misfortunes, I should grow out of Love with the World? In you I behold the Cause of all my Unhappiness; you have been the evil Genius that hath missed me into all the Paths of Sin and Misery; Religion, Fame, and Duty, oblige me to leave the World, and we are the Cause of one another's Crimes, for you could not suffer me to enjoy neither a Husband, nor a Friend, and now no Way is left but this one, to secure my Peace here and hereafter: Marriage is hateful between such as you and I; my Husband's Blood cries out against you, and I cannot wed his Murderer; for though another's Sword destroyed him, yet you were the subtle Fiend that poisoned his Soul with Jealousy, and spurr'd him on to execute your Revenge.' She would have pursued her Discourse, had not Grief stifled her Words; yet he pleaded all that Love could inspire to no Purpose: In fine, she left him, and entered a Convent of Benedictine Nuns, which she gave all her Fortune to, and lived a most exemplary Life for three Years, at the End of which she died of a Fever, and was much regretted, and esteemed to that her Memory is revered: And the Morning she went into the Convent, left Rome, and set out for France in the utmost Despair; where being arrived, after lying sick at Turin for three Months, he sent for Lord Albertus, and acquainted him with all that had befallen him since he left France, seeming very penitent: So comforted him all he was able, advising him to live virtuously for the future, and they agreed to travel together into Spain and Germany, and to visit all the Places of Note and Devotion.
Lord Albertus and the Count D'Olone having thus determined to travel, being provided of all Things necessary for a long Journey, having no Design to return to France for some Years, set out for Spain; and having visited all the Places of Note in the Way, arrived at Madrid, where they resolved to stay for some Months: Here they got many good Acquaintance, and among the rest that of a young Nobleman, the only Son of the Marquis de Mirandolo, his Name was Don Francisco, Count of Guapusco; he was a Person of great Accomplishments, young and handsom, and a great Friendship was soon contracted between him, the Lord Albertus, and Count D'Olone: This Lord had a secret Amour with a married Lady in Madrid, and used to visit her at a Country Villa where she often retired to in the Summer; there he often passed the Nights with her, her Husband, who was a very rich old Officer, seldom coming to Bed to her, and often staying behind at Madrid. One Night, as the Lover was sleeping in his Mistress's Arms, they were waked by a Noise in the Gardens; the Count ran to the Window, and saw four Men masked under the Balcony, to which they had fixed a Ladder: He quickly slipt on his Clothes, and supposing them Thieves; took his Sword and Pistols, and ran to the Balcony Doors, which he heard them trying to break open, but he presently threw the Doors open, and discharged his Pistols at them, killed the Man that was foremost, and wounded another; both he and they had dark Lanthorns, by the Light of which he discovered that the Man he had killed was his Mistress's Husband, his Vizard dropping off as he fell; the other three fled in Haste, leaving the Ladder behind them: And now being greatly alarmed, hearing all the Servants rising, who were awaked by the Noise of the Pistol's going off, he prepared to fly to some Place of Security, to avoid Discovery; and taking Leave of the Lady, having agreed to write to her, to let her know the Place of his Retreat, he took a dark Lanthorn and descended the Ladder, hasting through the Garden, and so got to his Horse, which his Gentleman held near the Garden Gate in the Grove, and being mounted, instead of going back to Madrid, he went twenty Miles farther into the Country, to a Place called Alcala, where he entered an Inn, in which he passed the Remainder of the next Day; and, it being Sunday, he went in the Evening to Church, there he saw a Merchant's Daughter, a Maid of fifteen Years of Age, fair as Venus, and beautiful as Nature e'er form'd; Virtue and Innocence shone in her angelick Face, and for her Shape, it equalled all the rest: In fine, his Soul was seized with a most violent Passion for her; her Mother, who was antient, was along with her, and he sent his Gentleman to follow them home, who brought him Word back, that her Name was Anna Eudoxia Calahorra, that her Father was a rich Merchant of Seville, who had left trading, and retired with his Wife, and this his only Daughter and Child, to sit down and enjoy his Wealth; that he was a great Humourist, and extremely covetous, and had refused many advantageous Matches for his Daughter, because he would not part with any Fortune to her during his Life; that he abhorred the Name of Quality, having had some Losses by several of the Nobility, so that he had declared, that he would never marry her but to a Tradesman; nor did he much care to part with her at all, but if he did it should be for Money, let the Man be never so old, or disagreeable; and he almost starved his Family, which consisted of only two old Servants, a Man and a Maid, himself, Wife, and Daughter: The House he lived in was his own, little and very neat, and the Furniture was rich, for he had purchased the Spoils of others, and lent no Money but at 30 per Cent. Usury: Bread, Onions, Poor Jack, Herbs and Roots, were the greatest Part of their Diet, with poor sour Wine and Spring-Water, and he grudged every thing but fine Clothes to his Girl, and that he did not spare, for she wore rich Brocades, Velvets, and Ribbons; her Hair and Stomach dazzled the Eyes with sparkling Jewels, for 'twas his Pride to hear her praised, and be himself treated by the fond Admirers that her Beauty gained her, for he refused not either Treats or Presents, yet took Care to let no Advantage be made of his Daughter's Company, for she went no where alone. All this the Count's Gentleman learned in the Neighborhood, where the old Man was hated; and being now thus fully informed of this young Lady's Circumstances, he resolved to disguise himself like a Merchant, and so to get Acquaintance with her Father, and conceal himself for some Time, till the Search was over for the Death of his former Mistress's Husband: In order to this, he sent his Gentleman away to Madrid, to provide Habits for them both, suiting his Design, and to let his Friends know, that he was gone into the Country for his Health, and should not return for some Months; and he writ a Letter more particularly to the Marquis his Father, pretending he was indisposed, and gone to a young Lord's a Relation who lived not far from the Town he staid at. The faithful Alonzo, his Gentleman, soon returned with Money and Habits, having called by the Way on the afflicted Widow, who was returned to Madrid, with her Husband's Body, about whose Death the World talked variously; some rightly conjecturing that some Gallant had killed him, who was that fatal Night in her Apartment, and the Servants who went with him could give no other Account, but that he had commanded them to follow him, and put on Vizards when they entered the Gardens; yet they owned, that they then imagined he had some Jealousy of their Lady, and feared some Tragedy would ensue, but who the Person was that killed him, they could not tell: And tho' perhaps some one of them knew the Count of Guapusco, yet they too much feared his and his Family's Resentments, to disclose the Secret: Yet Elvira, the Widow, was looked upon as a vile Woman, and neglected by her Friends and Family, though nothing could be proved upon her, so that after her Husband's Funeral, she retired for some Time to a Convent; but she sent a very passionate Letter to the Count by Alonzo, who, like the rest of Mankind, having a new Mistress in View, thought no more of the ruined Elvira, but put on his Merchant's Habit, took a private Lodging in the Town, and frequented the Coffee-House where the old covetous Don Calahorra, the fair Eudoxia's Father, used to come in Search of the young Spendthrifts, who came there to borrow Money of him: The Count soon got acquainted with him, in this Manner; he often gave him a Dish of Chocolate, or Coffee, and denied himself one, pretending to be very near and sparing; and when a young Spark came to pledge a Ring, or any other Jewel, and the old Man had not Money enough about him, then the Count would lend the Money, and take the Pledge; this soon gained him the old Man's Esteem, who often called him Son, and began to enquire about his Circumstances and Family; so the Count told him that he was left an Orphan when he was young, by his Father who was a Merchant in France, though by Birth a Spaniard; and that he had been bred up by an Uncle, who died, and had left him all his Fortune, so that he was now worth a good round Sum of Money, which he was resolved not to hazard at Sea, but to lend out at Usury, on good Security, or to employ it in buying Bargains of rich Merchandize, such as he could easily dispose of to great Advantage. The old Man hug'd and embraced him, nay invited him to his House, the thing he wanted, and there made him dine with his Wife and Daughter; giving him such a Treat as he had never made before for any man living though but a poor one in any other Person's Eyes. The Count soon grew a Favourite with the Mother and Daughter, and was not only permitted to visit them, but looked upon by the Father as a fit Husband for his Daughter: But though the Count loved her to Distraction, yet he dared not pursue the Folly so far, because of the Meanness of Eudoxia's Birth, and he knew his Father would never pardon him such a Fault; so he resolved to make a Mistress of her, and as such to keep her: Yet he concealed his Design, and seemed to hearken to the Proposal with Joy; nay he made an hundred little Presents to her, and used all the Arts of Love to gain her Heart, and succeeded but too well; for though she was very ambitious and had liked him a thousand times better, if she had known who he really was, yet she found such Charms in his Person and Conversation, that although she thought him but a Merchant, and covetous as her wretched Father was, yet she loved him, and he soon saw it, and now pretended that he thought himself unsafe in his Lodging, and therefore desired a Chamber in Don Calahorra's House; pretending to defer the Marriage, till some Bills and Effects which he expected were arrived from Barcelona, where he pretended that he had considerable Dealings. His Request was granted, and here he had more frequent Opportunities of conversing with Eudoxia; so he cunningly insinuated himself into the Mother's Favour, by carrying them abroad, and giving them little Collations: In fine, nothing but a fit Opportunity was now wanting to accomplish his evil Design, which he thus effected: He one Day walking with Eudoxia in a Garden, her Mother being at some Distance from them, told her, that he was really a Man of Quality, and therefore could not marry her, as her Father designed, because his Family would surely take her from him, and undo them both, if they knew the Meanness of her Birth; but that if she would pack up her Jewels, and fly with him to France, he would marry her there, and pretend that she was a Lady of Birth. The poor unexperienced Eudoxia fell into the Snare, Love and Ambition prevailing; and the faithless Count provided a Coach and six Horses, against the next Night; and then having packed up all the Money and Jewels she could come at, which amounted to the Value of ten thousand Ducats, went out of her Father's House at Midnight, and entered the Coach, where her Lover waited to receive her: Before Day they reached a Country Villa where the Count had a Country Seat, to which he carried her, and there he soon gained his Ends of the helpless Maid, though not without much Trouble: And now he put off his Merchant's Habit, and appeared himself again. Mean Time the poor old Calahorra and his Wife, missing their Daughter and Treasure, ran up and down the Streets like distracted People; their Lodger being also gone, and his Servants, they made no doubt but that he had stolen her, and made all possible Inquiries after them, but to no Purpose; for they were so hated and despised, that no body gave themselves the Trouble to stir about it, but only ridiculed them, saying the young Gentleman had done well, to free the young Woman from such a miserable Way of living; and indeed it was impossible for them to make any Discovery where Eudoxia was, because she remained privately in the Count's House, unknown to all his Domesticks, who knew neither whence she came, nor who she was, and Fear kept her silent; so he soon left her to return to Court, but failed not to come frequently to pass the Days and Nights with her: And here she was so waited on, and lived so great, that she soon forgot her Misfortune of being a Mistress, and grew pleased with her Condition. Her Father in few Months died with Grief for the Loss of his Child and Money; which News coming to the Count's Ear, he proposed to Eudoxia to send for her Mother to keep her Company, which she was overjoyed at; and accordingly Alonzo was sent with a Coach and six to fetch her, with Orders to give an hundred Ducats to each of the poor old Servants, and let the old Lady know no more but that her Daughter was well, and desired her Company. This News was highly agreeable to a fond Mother, to whom Alonzo was a very welcome Guest; so she packed up all her Treasure and rich Furniture, and left her home gladly to her old Servants, who immediately married, and set up for Merchants with their two hundred Ducats, and what else she bestowed upon them: So Alonzo and the old Lady being arrived at the Count's, nothing could be more tender and moving, than Eudoxia's meeting and her's; Joy so bereft them of Speech, that it was long before they could utter one Word, but when the joyful Mother cast her Eyes round, and saw the Magnificence of the Place, and the Count enter the Room so richly drest, she turned pale, and trembling asked if she might call him Son; at these Words, a guilty Blush covered Eudoxia's Face, and he only smiled; she was now big with Child: Then the afflicted Mother broke forth into bitter Reproaches, and Lamentations for her Daughter's Ruin, to which she made no Answer but with Tears. The Count did what he could to pacify her; but though she was a mean Person by Birth, she had a true Sense of her Misfortune; so that it was with much Difficulty she was prevailed on to cease her Complaints, and she remained here with her Daughter for some Months, in which Time the Count being to be married to a young Lady of Quality, began to be tired of Eudoxia, and proposed to Alonzo to marry her; an Offer he gladly embraced, but poor Eudoxia swooned at the News. She truly loved the inconstant Count, and coming to Life, fell at his Feet, and intreated him to put an End to her Life and Infamy; but he lifted her up, embraced, and pretended that it was against his Will that he must part with her, and that it was his Father who compelled him to it. Mean Time her Mother, who preferred a married State, before an infamous, seconded him; and thus in few Days the Marriage was performed, and Alonzo put into Possession of the charming Eudoxia, and her great Fortune, and retired to Seville with her Mother and her, to live, as he thought, very happily: But the wretched Eudoxia could not bear to live without the Man to whom she had given her Heart, and she was seized with a deep Melancholy, and brought forth a dead Child; after which she languished of a slow Fever for a few Months, and so died. Just before her Death, she writ a Letter to the Count, containing these Words:
'Cruel inconstant Francisco, my unkind Lord, read here the last, the dying Words of the ruined Eudoxia; the fond, believing Maid, whom you betray'd and forced to your Arms, the Maid whom you so often swore to love eternally. I call the awful Powers above to witness to your Perjuries; and though my Birth did not equal yours, my Soul and Truth excelled you far, for I would have died a thousand Deaths, before I would have broke my Faith with you: Cruel Deceiver, you forced me to be another's, spurned me from you; cursed Hypocrisy, dishonoured, and then gave me to your Vassal's Arms to hide my Shame, and your own Baseness; but know Eudoxia scorns to live another's: Grief has destroy'd the guiltless Infant, e're it saw the Day, and I am now in the last Agonies of Death, paying the Debt due to my Folly and your Crimes. May every dying Accent wound your Soul, and pierce your Ears, that the expiring Eudoxia breathes to Heaven: May just Remorse, such as attends the guilty Mind of every dying Sinner, still attend your softest Hours of Mirth and Pleasures, till you repent and appease Heaven's Wrath; and then may you be summoned soon, very soon, to everlasting Rest, to meet my Soul in Bliss, that you may never, never more seduce another unexperienced Maid like me, nor load your Soul with damning Crimes, to make you wretched for ever. The Pangs of Death seize me so fast, that I can say no more, but remember you must again meet Eudoxia, and that in the other World. Farewell. Angels conduct you to
'Eudoxia.'
The Count was at Madrid when Eudoxia died, and tasting all the Sweets of Joy and Pleasure with his noble Bride: Nothing but Mirth and Joy were thought upon; but when Alonzo appeared dressed all in black, and presented a Packet from Eudoxia's Mother, in which the dismal Letter was sealed up, he trembled, retired to his Closet, and there read it with all the Grief and Concern a Man could feel, who had once really loved that hapless Woman. His Tenderness was now revived for her, and her Constancy doubly engaged him to adore, and mourn her Death. He let fall a Flood of Tears, and became truly sensible of his Faults, and the Baseness and Cruelty of his own Actions were now set in a true Light before his Eyes; yet he wiped away the falling Drops from his Eyes, and coming forth, embraced Alonzo, and told him how much he regretted the fair Eudoxia's Death; and recommended himself to her Mother, desiring Alonzo to take Care of her, and to be kind as a Son to her, and so dismissed him; who, no doubt, was not much grieved to have got so good a Fortune, and lost a Wife who loved, and had been possessed by another. The Count was, on the other Hand, deeply afflicted, his Sleeps were broken, and Eudoxia's Image was ever before his Eyes; nor could he disclose his Grief to any but his Confessor, and to his faithful Friend Lord Albertus, whose pious Advice procured him some Comfort, but yet could not restore his Peace of Mind; so he languished thus for some Months, then sickened and died. These tragical Events confirmed Lord Albertus in his Resolutions to abandon the World; and he accordingly entered into the Order of the Benedictine Monks at Madrid, where he was professed, and put on the Habit. And some Jesuits being at that Time appointed to go on the Mission to China, he voluntarily offered himself to accompany them thither, having disposed of his Fortune in such a Manner, that he could command any Part of it for his own or pious Uses. And now we are going to be entertained with very extraordinary Adventures, and the most strange Occurrences imaginable.
The Count D'Olone having now contracted the strictest Friendship with Lord Albertus, could not think of parting with him; and therefore, finding no Persuasions could prevail upon him to lay aside his intended Voyage to China, he at last resolved to bear him Company thither, and to visit that Part of the World, hoping to divert his Melancholy by the Sight of strange Countries and People: So he put all his Affairs in Order for that Purpose, and bought many curious Toys of Gold and Silver, with curious Watches, and Merchandize fit for the Countries they were to visit; resolving to pass for a simple Merchant, and to conceal his Quality. Our noble Monk did likewise furnish himself in the same Manner, with Design to win the Favour of the Pagan People, by small Presents; and being skilled in Musick and Painting, he also furnished himself with Musical Instruments, and all Materials for Painting. All Things being ready, and the Wind fair, three Jesuits, being the good Fathers, Anthony de Carmes, Philip de Mancine, and Don Joseph de Mendocea, and the two Lords, with three Domesticks, went on board the good Ship Nostre Senora de Misericord, on the 19th Day of April, in the Year 1719. the noble Don Francisco de Cordona Captain: They had a fair Wind and prosperous Voyage for some Days; but then about Midnight a terrible Storm arose, the Skies were all darken'd with black Clouds, and it thunder'd and lighten'd as if Heaven and Earth were going to be destroyed; the Sails were rent in pieces, and the Ship drove before the Wind, the ablest Mariner being unable to guide it: The Pilot gave Directions in vain; and at Break of Day they found themselves within Sight of the Coast of Africa; but the Ship was so torn and leaky, that they expected every Moment to be swallowed up by the merciless Waves. And at length the Sea entered so violently, that they were forced to betake themselves to their Boats: The Captain, the two Lords, the three Jesuits, and some other Passengers, with the Pilot, Surgeon and five Seamen, entered the Pinnace, to the number of twenty three Persons; the rest of the Ship's Crew got into the Yauls, and shifted for themselves; for they had put what Provisions they could on board the Boats, and what Treasure they could in their Pockets and about them, where they could best conceal it. But alas! the Wind blew so hard they could not hope to reach any Shore, but that of Barbary; and there they must inevitably fall into the barbarous Infidels Hands, and be made Slaves; so that all their Hopes were, that some Christian Vessel would pass by, and take them up. They were thus driven about all that Day, and part of the next Night; but about Midnight the Pinnace struck against a Rock, and was dash'd in Pieces. Then all abandoned themselves to the merciless Seas, and the extreme Darkness hindered them from seeing one another perish. Lord Albertus swam till his Strength failing he fainted, and returning to Life, found himself lying on the Sands near Tunis. It was now Break of Day, and he could too well discern where he was: He was scarce able to rise, but at last he made a shift to get upon his Legs; and looking round, saw the Captain's Body lying near him on the Shore, he hasted to help him up, but soon found he was quite dead; he also saw several dead Bodies floating on the Waves, with rich Merchandizes: But alas, he was so weak, that he was unable to make any Attempts to save any thing, and was constrained to sit down again upon the Sands, having nothing to refresh himself withal, after all that he had suffered; but the divine Providence, who designed him for better things, provided some Relief. The Day now appearing, a poor Fisherman and his Son came from an adjacent Hut, to put out their Boat, which was fastened in a Creek behind a Rock, to go out in Search of Treasure from the Shipwreck, as is their Custom; and they soon perceived the fainting Albertus, whose Mien and Person, tho' in such melancholy Circumstances, spake him to be no mean Person, and his religious Habit, which is even respected by these Infidels, the more inclined them to help him: So they ran to him, and lifting him up, carried him to their Hut, pulled off his wet Clothes, put him into Bed, and gave him Brandy to drink. He had in his Bosom a Handkerchief full of Gold and Watches, and other Golden Toys of great Value; for these he had bound fast about his Waist, under his Shirt, and made a shift to conceal from them, his Monk's Habit making them believe that he had no Treasure about him. And having made a Fire, they left him, and went to put out their Boat, the Fisherman's Wife staying by him to dry his Clothes. This poor Woman was by Birth a French Woman, who had been taken and sold there for a Slave; and to free herself from extreme Misery, had embraced Mahometism, and so was given for a Wife to this poor Fisherman, by the Captain whose Slave she had been in her Youth; for she was now old. She was over-joyed when she found this good Monk could speak French, and falling into a Flood of Tears, entertained him with the Relation of all her Life past; and she told him, that so soon as her Husband returned he would be carried before the Governor, or the Bey of Tunis, and made a Slave, and a great Ransom put upon his Head, and offered her Service to prevent it. At these Words he thanked her, saying, he was wholly resigned to the Will of God, and had left his Country with no other View but the Conversion of Pagans and Infidels to Christianity, mildly reproving her for having forsook her Religion; at which she fell on the Floor, bewailing her own Weakness. In fine, she persuaded him to accept of the Offer she made him, saying, that if he would retire to a Place she would conduct him to, which was a ruined Mosque in a Wood behind a Rock near that Place, she would procure him a Turkish Habit, like a Santoin or Mahometan Religious, to conceal him from the Turks, who pay a great Veneration to those sort of religious Hermits, who amongst them pass for Saints, and do many of them lead very abstemious devout Lives, fasting the greatest Part of the Year, eating only Herbs, Bread, and Roots. They go clad in a coarse long woollen Garment, wear Hair-Cloth next their Skins, go bare-leg'd, with Sandals on their Feet; and have their Head shaved, have long Beards, and seldom go covered even in the parching Heat of Summer, or the most piercing Cold of the hardest Winter. They live on the People's Charity, and are some of them great Hypocrites and Cheats, pretending to have Revelations, and to do Miracles; and they pass unmolested through all the Turkish Dominions, and are respected in all Places where Mahometism has prevailed. Lord Albertus, who was no Stranger to the Manners and Customs of the Turks, approved in himself of what this poor Woman proposed, and accordingly, being assisted by her, got from the Cabin to the old Mosque, and there gave her some Pieces of Gold to go and purchase such a Habit for him; bidding her tell her Husband and Son, when they returned, that he was gone towards the Sea-side to look out for some dear Friend whom he seemed much to lament; and had not returned again, but had left them a piece of Gold on the Table, as she supposed to repay their Courtesy. And now being arrived at the Mosque, the good Woman, seeing him very weak, got some dry Leaves, and made him a kind of Bed, in one Corner of the Mosque, and so left him, to haste to the next Town to buy him Habit and Refreshments. Being thus left alone, he gave Thanks to God for his Deliverance from Death, and besought the Almighty, that his Arrival and Stay in this Place might be for the Good and Conversion of Souls. The poor Woman returned in few Hours, with some hot Food, being boiled Rice Meat, and a Bottle of Rum to mix with the Water he must drink; she also brought a poor Rug to cover him, with Blankets, which she had purchased, and a Lamp with Cotton and Oil, a Mug and a Tinder-box; so he blessed her and sent her away. And now the noble Monk, submitting himself to the Will of Heaven, sat down upon a Stone, and eat chearfully of what was brought him; then shutting the Door, kindled a Fire and warmed his bruised Limbs, highly content to lead a solitary Life. Night approaching, he lighted up his Lamp; and putting his poor Bed in Order, commending himself to God, laid down to rest. The Wind blew hard, and the troubled Sea roared loud; but yet he slept as profoundly as if he had lain on the softest Down, and been in a Palace. About Midnight he was waked by the Groans of a Person who made dismal Complaints in the French Tongue, and seemed in the utmost Distress. Albertus soon raised himself from Sleep, and hearkening very attentively thought that he knew the Voice; and taking his Lamp, crept to the Door of the Mosque, and called to know who was near: But who can express his Joy, when he heard the Count D'Olone, his dearest Friend, cry out, Albertus, is it you? At these Words he hasted to the Place whence the Voice came; but the Wind having extinguished the Lamp, he lost himself amidst the Trees, and could neither find his Friend, nor the Way back, for some Time, till groping about he perceived the Glimmering of the Embers of the Fire, which he had made in the Mosque, which he at last entered; and lighting his Lamp again, hung it up, and went to the Door, calling to his Friend to come to him; but when he entered, how surprized was the good Monk to see his miserable Condition; for his right Leg was broke short at the Instep; and the Bone being splinter'd came through the Flesh. His Face was all Bruises and Blood; yet they embraced one another tenderly, transported that neither Death nor Shipwreck had separated them. So Albertus laid him on his poor Bed, and gave him Food and Drink, tore his Shirt to bind up his swollen Leg, and washed it with Rum, all other Help being wanting. And then lying down by him, demanded how he came in this Condition; to which he answered, that being thrown into the Sea, out of the Boat, he laboured by swimming to save his Life and gain the Shore, and finding his Strength begin to fail, he made towards a Rock near the Shore, which he at last gained; and getting up, being almost spent, he was forced to lye down upon the Top of it to rest, it being so dark that he could but just perceive the Sea beneath him; there he fell asleep, and about Break of Day awaking, and going to rise, sliped his Foot, and fell down on the Side next the Shore, the Sea being then ebbing, and so broke his Leg, and bruised his Face and Body in such a piteous manner, that he could scarce crawl to Land, and being got there knew not what to do, or where to go: At last, said he, seeing this ruined Place, and the Wood, I tried to reach it, but being got into the Wood, which was nearest to the Place I was cast upon, I could go no farther, but laying myself down at the Foot of a Tree, committed myself to the Divine Providence, expecting some wild Beast would devour me, or some more savage Turk drag me thence to a Dungeon to end my Life: At last, Night being come, and extreme Pain and Want of Food constraining me to complain, I cry'd out to Heaven for Relief, and was answered in the kindest manner, by finding you.
They passed the Night in Discourse, and soon after Day-break the good Jaqueline, the Fisherman's Wife, he being gone forth in Search of more Treasure, of which he had found a great deal the Day before, came to them, and was much surprized to find the good Father had gotten a Companion; she informed them, that her Husband had found rich Coffers full of Linen, Clothes, and Money, as also Casks of Wine, Meat, and Biscuit, the Spoils of their Ship, offering to bring them some: Albertus bid her haste to the next Town, and bring some Ointments and Herbs to foment and dress his Companion's Leg, also another Habit like to his, to conceal him, giving her Money: But she, being resolved to provide for him, shewed a large Purse of Gold, which she had gotten amongst the Things her Husband had found, and beg'd him to receive it; which he accepted of, desiring that she would bring her Husband, if possible, to embrace the Christian Faith, and propose to him to find Means, by buying a bigger Boat, to get away thence to Spain, to live better, and at Ease. Then she told them, that both her Son and Husband were Christians already by her Means, though not baptized, and offered to bring them to him that Night. Albertus rejoiced at this, and the same Night baptized them. And now our Hermits Lives seem'd comfortable, though lodged in so sad a Place, and in so deplorable a Condition. The Count D'Olone's Leg was long in Cure, having no better Surgeon than Albertus; yet at last it healed, and he grew able to walk with a Stick: Then, being disguised with their Santoins Habits, they crept abroad to the neighbouring Villages, being instructed by Jaqueline how to behave themselves, and asking Alms, as she taught them, by silent Gestures, succeeded so well, that they came loaden back with Food and Money, sufficient to support Life, waiting for a fit Opportunity to get off to Spain again, or any Christian Country; but Fate had otherwise decreed, for during their Stay in the Mosque some strange Adventures befel them, and one Night, as they were lying on their poor Bed, they heard the Footsteps of a Woman near their Door, and heard her say, in the Spanish Tongue, 'Oh Heavens! where shall I go, and what shall I do? the Door of this poor Place is shut against me, what will become of the wretched Leonora? 'Tis in vain that I have escaped the enraged Abeneer's Hands, since I shall again be taken, and made a Slave: Why do the sacred Laws of Christianity forbid me to use this pointed Dagger, which would free me from my Fears and Misery; hear me, you guardian Angels, who still attend the innocent, and save me by some Miracle.' Albertus, who had hearkened with great Attention, gently opened the Door, and saw, by the Light of the Lamp, a Woman of most exquisite Beauty, dressed in a Turkish Habit; her Breast was covered with rich Diamonds, nor was her Tiara less adorned, and she seemed not above eighteen; she had a Dagger in her Hand, her Face was pale, and she appeared in the utmost Disorder, he gently bid her enter, and putting to the Door after her asked who she was, and how she came there: She was so faint and frighted she could scarce give an Answer, but she looked upon him very earnestly for a while, then said, Are you a Christian, Sir? Yes, lovely Maid, said he, I am, and more, a Priest: Then she fell at his Feet, embracing his Knees, be you then, said she, my Guardian and Defender, to save me from Destruction: What Thanks must I repay to Heaven? Here he lifted her up, and then the Count D'Olone, who had all this while beheld her with much Admiration, welcomed her, saying, fair Creature, you shall be doubly guarded here, this poor Place has concealed us from Slavery, and will, I hope, hide you from all that would injure you; but say, how came you here at this late Hour; come sit down and tell us how you came into this inhospitable Country: So she sat down, and having something recovered her Spirits, began her Story in these Words.
Noble Strangers, and, as I guess by your Language, Countrymen, I am sure that you are too well acquainted with the tragick Stories of the too successful Excursions of the Infidels in the Morea, and elsewhere, to need me to relate any Particulars of the Devastations they have made of late Years, and the great Numbers of noble Christians, whom they have taken captive, and made Slaves of: I am one of that unfortunate Number; my Father was a noble Spaniard, his Name was Don Gomez D'Arcos, he commanded a Man of War for his Catholick Majesty, and had a Sister, a Lady of great Merit, who was Abbess of a Convent of Nuns at Natolia: My Mother dying whilst I was an Infant, so soon as I was ten Years of Age, he carried me to my Aunt to be educated, being his only Child, designing to take me out of the Convent, when I was of Years to be disposed of in Marriage: My Aunt made me her Darling, and bred me up with all imaginable Care, my Father never failing to visit us as often as he could possibly; at last, ten Months ago, he came to fetch me home, making large Presents to the Convent, then he brought me aboard his Ship, and we set sail with a fair Wind, having four Men of War more in Company with us, my Father commanding the Squadron: We fell in with a strong Fleet of the Infidels, a sharp Combat ensued, and my Father's Ship was sunk; and he, prizing nothing equal with me, took me on his Back, plunging into the Sea; but we were presently taken up by the Turks, and my Father being grievously wounded, was taken great Care of, because they knew they should have a great Ransom for him. What became of the rest of our Ships and People I do not know, for I was so overwhelmed with Grief, and busied about my dear Father, that I never stirr'd out of the Cabin from him, till we arrived at Tunis; we were put aboard the Turkish Admiral, commanded by the noble Bassa Abeneer, a Man of great Quality, and one of the most beatiful and polish'd amongst the Infidels: The Fight being over, he entered the State-Room, and commanded the Prisoners of Quality to be brought before him, which were many brave Christians, some of them Women, but I did not see them, being called for one of the last: But when I appeared, he calmed his Brow, and, with a smiling Look, bid me, in Spanish, to draw near; then he reached out his Hand and pulled me to him, embraced me tenderly, and told me I should be kindly treated; I answered only with Tears and Blushes, too well foreseeing the Miseries his hateful Kindness would bring upon me: At last falling at his Feet, I besought him to be kind to my dear Father, and to permit me to attend him: Which Request he readily granted me, then kissed, and bid me go to him, calling for a lovely Maid, another Captive, like myself, the sweet Juliana, who became all my Consolation, and bosom Friend; for she was about nineteen Years of Age, the Daughter of a noble Venetian, whom they had taken aboard a Merchant Ship, in which she was going with her Brother to France, to pay a Visit to her Grandmother, who resided there, being a Native of France, and a Person of Quality; her Brother was killed in the Engagement, so she was detained a Prisoner in the Admiral's Ship, her Beauty making her a valuable Prize in his Eyes. I returned him my Thanks with great Respect, for giving me so agreeable a Companion, and retired with her into the Cabin to my Father, and during our Voyage to Tunis, which was not many Days, we were entertained with all imaginable Kindness and Respect, though Grief overwhelmed us, and we more dreaded to reach the Shore than to die. My Father's Wounds were healed, and all his Care was for me: My dear Leonora, he often said to me, what will become of you, and how shall I save thee from Ruin? Christianity forbids me to take away thy Life to secure thy Virtue, 'tis Heaven alone can preserve you; fail not to use all lawful Means to avoid this Infidel's Embraces, and if you are forced to his Bed, regard him as a Husband, and a Man whom Heaven has destined thee to belong to, and never stain thy Virtue by being false to him: But if a Ransom be set upon us, I will freely give all I have to procure your Liberty, and stay here a Slave to ransom thee. This called for the tenderest Returns from me; and thus we passed the Time in mutual Sorrow, till being arrived at Tunis we were brought ashore, and my Friend and I, being vailed, were led to the Governor's Palace: All the Women were placed in a Room by themselves, and the Men in another, and thus I was parted from my noble Father, to my inexpressible Grief. The Governor and Admiral entering the Room where I was, I had the Affliction to see several fine Women, some whose Faces were not veiled, and others who seemed noble as myself, disposed of; some to the Governor, others to his Favourites, but I and my Friend Juliana were set aside for the Admiral, and by the Governor presented to him: We had no Time to dispute, but were hurried away to the Palace-Gate, and there thrust into a Horse Litter, and shut up, and from thence we were conducted to Abeneer's Seraglio, which is not far from this Place; we were there placed in a fine Apartment, and 'tis needless to tell you the Beauty and Magnificence of the Place and Furniture, it was richly adorned with the Spoils of the Christians, and the finest Persian Carpets, Quilts, Porcelane, and Paintings, were not wanting in every Chamber: Here we were waited on by black Eunuchs, and Mutes, and served with the richest Wines and most delicate Meats; but, alas, our Souls were racked with inexpressible Grief, so that we could take no Pleasure in any thing, every Moment expecting to see the amorous Abeneer enter; so we embraced, and lamented one another's hard Fate, with Eyes lift up to Heaven, and Night being come, I was surprized with the Sight of two Mutes, who gave me to understand, that I must leave Juliana there, and go with them into another Apartment. I shewed by Signs my Unwillingness to go, but to no Purpose, for they forced me thence, and brought me into another Apartment, where I found the Admiral, seated on a Persian Carpet, with a Banquet before him; every thing was magnificent, his Dress and Turbant shone with Diamonds and precious Jewels; he rose to meet me with a smiling Countenance, embraced, and invited me to sit down by him; and I answered him with great Civility, desiring to be excused, by reason that I was much indisposed: But he pleaded both as a Lover and a Lord, that I must not refuse him my Company, and that he could not part with me: In fine, he forced me to sit by him, and courted me to eat, and thus we passed some Hours, during which, I suffered all the Terrors of Mind a Maid in my sad Circumstances could do, but yet concealed my Fears; till at last he proceeded to take more Liberties than I knew how to bear, and then I fell at his Feet, and implored his Pity in the most moving Terms: But all in vain, he catched me in his Arms, and bore me to a Chamber, threw me on his Bed, and swore he would that Night sleep in my Arms: I then resisted all that I was able, crying to Heaven for Help; nor was Heaven deaf to my Prayers, for in that dreadful Moment a Woman fairer than my Eyes ever saw before, her Shape and Face, her Stature, all were exquisitely handsom, entered the Chamber like a Fury; her Dress was after the Turkish Fashion, prodigious fine, and she had a Myrtle Taper in one Hand, and a Dagger in the other: Ah false Abeneer, she cried, in the Italian Tongue, have I another Rival? must the undone Sophia mourn your cruel Absence, and languish for your Return, and then be debarr'd your Bed and Presence when you come home? No, the Sorceress shall surely die: At these Words she flew to me, who wished for Death, and was indeed half dead already; Abeneer, in whose Face Rage and Shame were visible, step'd in between to save me from the frantick Sophia; who, more enraged to see his great Concern for me, striving to stab me, wounded him, before he could have Time to wrest the Dagger from her Hand; but when she saw the streaming Blood pour from his Side, she quite forgot me, and cried for Help, then stab'd herself into the Breast, and fell down at his Feet. I stood unmoved to see this tragick Scene, both pitying her, and admiring the Goodness of the Almighty, who had given me such a Deliverance. Abeneer only said, take that foolish unkind Woman from my Sight, excessive Love has made her lunatick: Then turning to me, he faintly kissed me, and said, Sweet Maid retire to Rest, my Wound I hope is slight, and soon will heal, but those your Eyes have given will never cure but in your soft Embraces. The Mutes being entered, one of them led me to my Apartment, where I found poor Juliana drowned in Tears for me; I ran to her, and embraced her, then gave a Sign to the Mute to withdraw, not daring to shew my Joy before him, but when we were alone I told her all, and we blessed Heaven, and eat with Chearfulness what had been set before us. Abeneer being wounded, our present Fears were over, and we flattered ourselves that Heaven would work our Deliverance in the end. There was a great Confusion in the Seraglio, and some Days passed, in which we could get no News from the Slaves of their Lord: During this Time we had more Liberty to walk the Gardens, which were all moated round, yet from the Terrass Walks we could discover the Sea, not far from us; and this made us resolve to attempt some Way or other to escape, and at last we agreed to venture down from a ruined Part of the Wall, believing that if our Feet slip'd and we fell, the Water would break our Fall; and, for more Ease, we determined to tear our Sheets to pieces, and so to tie them together, and slide down; but then the next Difficulty was, how to get out of the Mote, and where to go, for we had observed that the Water was often very low, ebbing and flowing with the Sea; yet we long debated what to do, before we put our Design in Execution, fearing to be taken again, and used worse: But at last Fate gave us a favourable Opportunity, beyond our Expectation, for as we were sitting in a Summer-house near the Garden Gate, one of the Slaves opened it, to go to a Spring of Water that was in the Wood on the other Side the Mote, leaving the Draw-bridge down, and the Gate open; he was no sooner entered the Wood, but we ran down from the Summer-house, and got over the Bridge, and then we perceived him talking with a Country Maid, who doubtless came there to meet him, for they play'd and toy'd together, and he gave her Fruit which he had brought from the Gardens: This gave us Time to get farther off, and so we got into the Wood on the farther side, where we found a kind of natural Grotto, the Trees growing very closely together, so that it was almost dark: Here we concealed our selves for that Night, not knowing where to go; but alas, our Terror was so great, for fear of wild Beasts, or what is worse, of some Turks discovering us, that we passed a dismal Night: At Break of Day we ventured out farther into the Wood, destitute of all Refreshment, there I found this Dagger; thus we wandered about these three Days and Nights, till at last poor Juliana could go no farther, and we have fed only on the wild Fruits in the Wood; So she lay down at the Foot of a Tree, and I made towards this ruined Place to seek Relief, having perceived some Light. This, said she, is my sad Story, and if you will save the Life of my Friend, you must haste to her Relief: Call, and she will hear your Voices, for I am not able to conduct you to her.
The pious Albertus, taking a Light in his Hand, went forth immediately to seek for Juliana, but in vain; and perceiving some Lights in the Wood, and Men on Horseback, he made Haste back, fearing to be discovered. Poor Leonora was sadly troubled for the Loss of her Friend, but now her own Preservation was to be thought upon, and her Habit was such as would betray her; so it was concluded that the poor Fisherwoman should the next Day provide her a mean Habit, suiting a Peasant's Daughter, and that she should pass for such a one, and live with the good Woman: So they laid her on one of their poor Blankets on some dry'd Leaves, and she went to rest, and they all committed themselves to the Care of Heaven, and slept till it was broad Day; then our Hermits, returning Thanks to God, went forth, and sent Jaqueline the honest Fisherwoman to fetch what they wanted, that is, Food and Clothes for Leonora, whilst they walked into the Wood, and along the Sea-shore, to look for her Companion, but in vain: At their Return to their poor Abode, they found Leonora risen from her mean Bed, and Jaquiline dressing her in the poor Habit she had brought, much better becoming her Daughter than so sweet a Lady; but they were glad to see her so well disguised, and having ripped the Jewels and Gold off her Turkish Habit, they burnt it, to prevent all Discovery: And thus they passed some Days in this Manner very comfortably, and hourly expected to be delivered from this sad Place, by Means of the Fisherman and his Son, who went out in their Boat every Day to fish, and look out for some Christian Ship, to bargain with to take them aboard. But now divine Providence had determined to put them to a farther Trial, for a terrible Storm happening, the poor Fisherman and his Son were unfortunately drowned, and their dead Bodies being cast upon the Shore, acquainted them with their sad Fate. Now all their Hopes being thus cut off of Deliverance by their Means, our Hermits began to think of removing to a more convenient Abode; the Count D'Olone was grown passionately in Love with Leonora, and had so far gained her Affection, that she promised to marry him so soon as they came to a Christian Shore; and Jaqueline was glad to leave her poor Hut, and come to live with them: So they resolved not to leave the Seashore, but to remove farther from Tunis, near some Country Village; and Jaqueline went and hired a poor House near the Sea, taking her Daughter Fatima, as she called her, with her, and here she pretended to lodge the two Hermits, and to take in Needle-work for her and her Daughter to earn their Livelihoods by. Lord Albertus did here visit the Sick and Dying, and having great Skill in Physick, from reading, often cured the Sick; so that he was greatly reverenced and beloved by the poor Inhabitants of this Village, and his Fame spread abroad faster than he desired: One Day a Turkish Man of Quality, attended by some of his Slaves, came to the poor Cottage and asked for him, desiring him to go along with him, to see a darling Son which he had at home sick of a Fever: Lord Albertus, glad to oblige such a Person, went along with him, and entering a fine Chamber where the sick Mustapha lay, was surprized to see a young Lady of exquisite Beauty attending upon him, who spake to him in Italian; but when he heard him call her his dear Juliana, he no longer doubted that she was Leonora's lost Friend: He then gave such Medicines as he knew to be proper, which he himself prepared for Mustapha, and took Leave, promising to visit him again the next Day; and returning home, acquainted Leonora of her Friend's Condition: She was indeed glad to find that she was yet alive, and fallen into the Hands of so noble a Person; but when she reflected that she was a Slave, and to an Infidel, she grieved. Our Hermits were used to do many menial Offices, suitable to their mean Circumstances, such as fetching Water, cutting of Wood, and carrying it home upon their Backs to their poor Abode: And now I must relate one of the strangest Adventures which befel Lord Albertus, that ever befel any Man living. One Evening, as he was cutting of Sticks in a Wood about two Miles distant from home, he was strangely surprized with the Noise of deep-fetched Groans, and a hoarse Voice like that of a Man, in a Language he did not understand, which seemed to come from the most inward Part of the Wood: The noble Monk, who was by Nature very couragious, and like a truly good Man, was always prepared for Death, resolved to see what it was, and made up to the Place whence the Sound came; it was the Dusk of the Evening, yet he could plainly discern a Man of gigantick Stature, far above the common Size of Men, his Face spake him a Moor, and his Habit, though very rich, was old and decay'd, it was made after the Turkish manner, his Turbant shone with glittering Diamonds, as did also the Scimeter by his Side; he held a lovely Woman by the Arm, one of the fairest of her Sex, not above eighteen; she was dressed all in white Silk, in a Turkish Dress; and seemed pale and highly afflicted, holding a Handkerchief in her Hand, with which she wiped away the falling Tears: The Man had a majestick Presence, but seemed to court her with much Passion, whilst she seemed averse; sometimes he raged, but all in the Moorish Language, which Lord Albertus did not understand. They were set down at the Root of a Tree: The good Monk, his Habit being well known to all the Mahometans, and used to occasion no Surprize, made bold to approach them, in Hopes to make some farther Discovery; but who can express his Surprize, when he saw them both start up on their Feet, and immediately sink into the Earth; after which, Chains seemed to rattle, a great deal of Smoke and Flames issued out of the Ground at the Foot of the Tree, then Drums beat as under Ground, after which all was still. Lord Albertus was a Man very little inclined to credit Stories of Apparitions, and Spectres, but yet such a Sight very much surprized and shocked him, and he returned to his home very pensive, with his Load of Wood upon his Back, and related to his Friend and Leonora what he had seen, and the Count and he resolved to go the next Day in the Morning to view the Place; concluding some Mystery must be in this Matter, and not willing to believe it was any thing supernatural: But Leonora was very unwilling to let them go, fearing that their Curiosity might undo them; doubtless, said she, it is some Moor of Quality, who has stoln some Lady from his Monarch's Seraglio, and has retired to some subterranean Cave to hide them, fearing Discovery, do not search any farther into it: This certainly was the best Counsel, if they would have followed it, but the two Lords were too eager to know the Truth; and the next Morning went to the Wood, with Daggers under their Frocks: They searched very narrowly all about the Place, and at last discovered a kind of Trap-door in the Ground, covered with Moss which grew upon it; this raised their Curiosity still more, and they pursued their Search more diligently, so they perceived a Hole at the Foot of the Tree, and two or three more at some small Distance, through which they imagined the Flames and Smoke were conveyed: From all this they concluded, that Leonora had guessed right, and that the unfortunate Lady Albertus had seen, was stoln, and lodged in this sad Place; whilst they were thus discoursing, they heard a Noise under their Feet, and so judged it best to retire: At their return home they gave Leonora an Account of what they had seen, and she much intreated them to go there no more, notwithstanding which they returned at Night, Lord Albertus having first paid a Visit to his noble Patient Mustapha, whom he found much better, to the great Joy of his Father, who greatly caressed his kind Physician, making large Offers of Friendship to him, with Gold; but Albertus refused all Rewards but his Friendship; which highly engaged the Infidel to his Service. The Evening being come, Lord Albertus and his Friend the Count, led by Curiosity, returned to the Wood, and placed themselves behind a Tree, near the Place where they had found the Trap-door, and they had not waited long, before they heard Musick; soon after which, the Trap-door was opened, and the beautiful Woman he had before seen came forth, attended by two Moorish Women, she sat down on the Ground, and one of them presenting a Lute to her, she play'd upon it with much Art, and sung some Italian Verses, expressing her Grief in Words to this Purpose:
The Lords hearkened very attentively whilst she sung, charmed with the Musick of her Voice, and touched with the Words of the Song; which having ended, she let fall a Shower of Tears, and they resolving to speak to her; came from behind the Tree, and coming up close to her, Lord Albertus put forth his Hand to take hold of hers, saying in the Italian Tongue, Fair Creature, we pity and will assist you, we are Christians and Strangers, like you, but have a Home to receive you, if you can follow us: She seemed much surprized, yet pleased; and was going to answer, when the gigantick Moor started up from the Trap-door, with his drawn Scimeter in his hand, and seized the Lady, dragging her down with him before she could have Time to answer; the Slaves attending, seeming much frighted, followed, shaking their Heads and whispering to one another. The two Lords stood like Men amazed, looking on one another; then they heard the Drums rattle, saw the Flames and Smoke as before, at which they left the Place, consulting what to do to free this unfortunate Lady, and get Knowledge of all that were concealed in this subterranean Dwelling; concluding that it was the Retreat of this Moor and his Slaves, who had doubtless stoln this Christian Woman from some potent Rival: And as they were thus debating, they heard the Feet of a Man coming very fast towards them, and turning their Heads perceived they were pursued by four Moors well armed: They knew it was next to impossible to resist them, and still hoped their Habits would conceal them, resolving not to seem as if they feared them: But alas they were mistaken, the Moors had Orders to secure them, alive or dead, yet cunningly passed by, and went on their Way; the brave unwary Hermits were thus deceived, and pursued their Way, but the Infidels lay in Ambush for them near their Home, behind a Rock, and bolted out upon them and secured them, binding of their Hands behind them with Cords, tied them both together, and putting them in the midst of them, drove them back to the Wood, threatning to kill them if they made the least Noise or Resistance: And now they too late repented of their Curiosity. Being come to the Trap-door, they were pulled in, and made go down a steep Pair of Stairs, from whence they passed through a long narrow Passage, where a Lamp was burning; at the End of which they went up a Pair of Stone Stairs, a great Height, then they entered by a great Door into a large Room, out of which they passed into a very fine Apartment; there they saw the Moor and the Lady seated on a Persian Carpet, with two Children, half-Moors, all richly dressed, and the two Female Slaves attending; the Rooms were illuminated with fine crystal Branches: Then the Moor, with a stern Countenance, demanded in Italian who they were, saying, you are no Turks, but Christians, I have heard you talk; you have discovered a Secret on which my Life depends, and therefore if you would save your own, be ingenuous, and speak who you are, how you came here, and where you dwell, for your Habit is but a Disguise. Our noble Hermits were doubtless much surprized, both at what had happened to them, and what they saw, but Lord Albertus, who had nothing to fear, Life and Death being equal to him, boldly answered thus: Noble Moor, or Prince, for such I presume you are from your noble Mien, and Attendants, I am 'tis true a Christian and a Priest, one who have in my Youth loved like you, and been great, but have now renounced the Pleasures and Follies of this Life, to serve m