Describes the masquerade at the dutchess of Main's; the characters and intrigues of several persons of quality who were there; the odd behaviour of a lady in regard to Horatio, and Charlotta's sentiments upon it.
The dutchess of Main was one of the gayest and most gallant ladies at the court of Lewis XIV. she was for ever entertaining the nobility with balls, masquerades, or concerts; and as she was of the blood royal, and highly respected not only on that score, but by the distinguish'd favour of the king, the Chevalier St. George, and the princess his sister, frequently honoured her assemblies with their presence.
To divert those ladies whose husbands were gone to Flanders, as she said, she now proposed a masquerade; and the day being fixed, it was the sole business of the young and gay to prepare habits such as were most suitable to their inclinations, or, as they thought, would be most advantageous to their persons.
The Chevalier St. George was dressed in a rich Grecian habit of sky-coloured velvet embroidered with large silver stars: the top of his cap was encompassed with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, saphirs, amythists, and other precious stones of various colours, set in rows in the exact form of a rainbow: a light robe of crimson taffaty, fringed with silver, was fastened by a knot of jewels on his left shoulder, and crossed his back to the right side, where it was tucked into a belt of the finest oriental pearls, and thence hung down and trail'd a little on the ground: in fine, there was nothing that exceeded the magnificence and eloquence of his appearance, or was in any measure equal to it in the whole assembly, except that of the princess Louisa his sister.
She would needs go as a Diana, and obliged all her ladies to be habited like nymphs: no idea of this goddess, inspired either by the painter or the poet's art, can in any degree come up to that which the fight of this amiable princess gave every beholder. Conformable to the character she assumed, she had a large crescent of diamonds on her head, which had no other covering than a great quantity of the finest hair in the world, partly braided with pearls and emeralds, and partly flowing in ringlets down on her alabaster neck: her garments were silver tissue, white and shining as the moon on a clear frosty night; and being buttoned up a little at the bottom as for the conveniency of the chace, shewed great part of her fine proportioned ankle. In her hand she held an ivory bow, and an arrow of the same headed with gold; and on her shoulder was fixed a quiver curiously wrought and beset with jewels: her attendants, which were six in number, had their habits green, but made in the same fashion of the princess's, with bows and arrows in their hands, and quivers at their backs: all of them had their hair turned up under a caul of silver net, from which hung little tossels of pearl intermixed with diamonds.
Next to this fair troop the duchess of Main herself attracted the attention of the assembly: she was habited like an Indian queen, with robes composed of feathers so artfully placed, that they represented a thousand different kind of birds and beasts, which, as she moved, seemed to have motion in themselves: on her head she had a lofty plume supported by a cap, and richly ornamented with precious stones; as were all her garments wherever the propriety of the fashion of them would give leave.
The young mademoiselle de Bourbon, in the habit of a sea-nymph, and mademoiselle de Blois, in that of a Minerva, ornamented and decorated according to their several characters, had also their share of admiration.
Nor did the marchionesses of Vallois and Lucerne, both in the garb of shepherdesses, serve as mere foils to those I have mentioned: there was something; even in this plainness that shewed the elegance of the wearer's taste.
The prince of Conde, the dukes of Berry, Vendosine and Chartres, the young marquis de Montbausine, the counts de Chenille, de Ranbeau, and the baron de Roche, had all of them habits extremely rich and well fancied, as were many others of whom it would be too tedious to make particular mention, and be likewise digressive to the matter I take upon me to relate; I shall therefore only say, that there was not one person of either sex, who did not endeavour to set themselves forth to all possible advantage.
Those gentlemen who attended the Chevalier St. George were at their liberty to appear in what habit they pleased: Horatio knowing his charming Charlotta was a nymph of the forest, chose to be a hunter, and was accordingly dressed in green, with a little cap on his head and a javelin in his hand, as Acteon is generally portrayed; and indeed had he studied what garb would have become him best, he could not have fixed on one more proper for that purpose.
Fine madamoiselle de Sanserre at least thought him more worthy her regard than any of those, the richness of whose habits made her know were of a higher rank:—she took particular notice of him, made him dance with her, and said a thousand gallant things to him; but he could very well have dispensed with hearing them, and found little satisfaction in any thing that deprived him of entertaining his dear Charlotta, who he easily knew by her air and shape from all those who were habited in the same manner. As he doubted not, however, but the person who had thus singled him out was a lady of condition, he returned her civilities with a politeness which was natural to him, but which had received great improvements since his arrival in France. She was no less charm'd with his conversation than she had been with his person, and impatient to know who he was, made an offer of shewing him her face on condition he would pluck off his mask at the same time: but this he would by no means agree to, because still hoping to get rid of her, and have some discourse with mademoiselle Charlotta, he did not think proper he should be known by any other, who might perhaps make remarks on his behaviour; and therefore excused himself from complying with her desires in terms as obliging as the circumstance would admit.
As she had displayed all her talents of wit and eloquence to engage him, she looked on the little curiosity she had been able to inspire in him as an affront, and vexed she had thrown away so much time on an insensible, as she called him, flung hastily away, and joining with some other company, left him at liberty to pursue his inclinations.
This lady had been a royal mistress, but not having the good fortune to be made a mother, was not honoured with any title; her being forsaken by the king, who indeed had few amours of any long continuance, did not in the least abate the good opinion she had of her beauty; and to fee herself followed by a train of lovers being the supreme pleasure of her life, she spared nothing to attract and engage: whenever she failed in this expectation it was a severe mortification; but her vanity and the gaity of her humour would not suffer it to prey upon her spirits for above a minute, and she diverted the shock of a rebuff in one place by new attempts to conquer in another; therefore it is probable thought no more of Horatio after she had turned from him.
He now carefully avoided all that might interrupt his wishes, and seeing Charlotta had just broke off some conversation she had been entertained with, made what haste he could to prevent her from being re-engaged:—She immediately knew him; and as their mutual innocence made them perfectly free in expressing themselves to each other, she told him she was glad he was come; that they would keep together the whole masquerade, provided he did not think it a confinement, to prevent her being persecuted with the impertinencies of some people there, who she found thought a masque a kind of sanction for saying any thing.
It is not to be doubted but Horatio gave her all the assurances that words could form, of feeling the most perfect pleasure in her society, and that he should not; without the extremest reluctance, find himself obliged to abandon the happiness she offered him to any other person in the company: to recompence this complaisance, as she called it, she gave him a brief detail of the characters of as many as she knew thro' their habits; and in doing this discovered a sweet impartiality and love of truth, which was no small addition to her other charms. She blamed the baroness de Guiche for not being able to return the affection of a husband who had married her with an inconsiderable fortune, and had since she had been his wife pardoned a thousand miscarriages in her conduct:—she praised the virtue of mademoiselle de Mareau, who being at fifteen the bride of a man of seventy, behaved to him with a tenderness, and exact conformity to his will, which, if owing alone to duty, was not to be distinguished from inclination:—she expressed a concern that the gaity of the dutchess of Vendome gave the world any room for censure, and highly condemned the duke for being guilty of actions which had made her sometimes give into parties of pleasure by way of retaliation:—but she was more severe on the indecorum of mademoiselle de Renville, who being known for the mistress of the duke of Chartres, and that she was supported by him, was fond of appearing in all public places. She could not help testifying a good deal of surprize, that any woman who pretended to virtue would admit her into their assemblies: not but she said the case of that lady was greatly to be pitied, who being high-born and bred had been reduced to the lowest exigencies of life, and from which to be relieved she had only consented to assist the looser pleasures of the amorous duke; but, added she, I would not methinks have her seem to glory in her shame, and in a manner of life which her misfortunes alone can render excusable; nor can I approve of the indulgence her mistaken triumph meets with, because it may not only destroy all notions of regret in herself for what her necessities oblige her to, but also make others, who have not the same pretence, find a kind of sanction for their own errors:—vice, said she, ought at lead to blush, and hide itself as much as possible from view, left by being tolerated in public it should become a fashion.
Horatio was so much taken up with admiring the justness of her sentiments, that awed by them, as it were, he could not yet, tho' mask'd, make any discovery of his own: she was about entering into a discourse with him concerning the first motives which had rendered some persons she pointed out to him unhappy in the marriage-state, which perhaps might have given him an opportunity for explaining himself, when a lady richly dress'd came up to them, and giving Horatio a sudden pluck by the arm; villain! cried she. Madam, returned he, strongly amazed. Is the trifling conversation of Sanserre, resumed she, or this little creature to be preferred to a woman of that quality you have dared to abuse?—but this night has convinced her of your perfidy:—she sends you this, continued she, giving him a slap over the face as hard as she could, and be assured it is the last present you will ever receive from her.
She had no sooner uttered these words than she flew quick as lightning out of the room, leaving Horatio in such a consternation both at what she said and did, as deprived him even of the thought of following her, or using any means to solve this riddle.—He was in a deep musing when mademoiselle Charlotta, possessed that moment with a passion she till then was ignorant of, said to him; I find, Horatio, you have wonderfully improved the little time you have been in France, to gain you a multiplicity of mistresses; but I am sorry my inadvertency in talking to a man so doubly pre-engaged, should cause me to be reckoned among the number. In speaking this she turned away with a confusion which was visible in her air, and the scarlet colour with which her neck was dyed. By heaven! cried he, in the utmost agitation, I know so little the meaning of what I have just now heard, that it seems rather a dream than a reality. O the deceiver! returned she, a little slackening her pace, will you pretend to have given no occasion for the reproach you have received:—great must have been your professions to draw on you a resentment such as I have been witness of;—but I shall take care to give the lady, whoever she is, no farther room for jealousy on my account; and as for mademoiselle Sanserre, I believe the stock of reputation she has will not suffer much from the addition of one more favourite to the number the world has already given her.
The oddness of this adventure, and the vexation he was in to find Charlotta seemed incensed against him for a crime of which he knew himself so perfectly innocent, destroyed at once all the considerations his timidity had inspired, and aiming only to be cleared in her opinion;—if there be faith in man, cried he, I know nothing of what I am accused: no woman but your charming self ever had the power to give me an uneasy moment;—it is you alone have taught me what it is to love, and as I never felt, I never pretended to that passion for any other.
Me! replied Charlotta, extremely confused; If it were so, you take a strange time and method to declare it in;—but I know of no concern I have in your amours, your gratitude, or your perfidy; and you had better follow and endeavour to appease your enraged mistress, than lose your time on me in vain excuses.
Ah mademoiselle! cried he, how unjust and cruel are you, and how severe my fate, which not content with the despair my real unworthiness of adoring you has plunged me in, but also adds to it an imputation of crimes my soul most detests:—I never heard even the name of the lady you mentioned till your lips pronounced it; and if it be she I danced with, I protest I never saw her face: and as for the meaning of the other lady's treatment of me, it must certainly be occasioned by some mistake, having offered nothing to any of the sex that could justify such a proceeding.
All the time he was speaking Charlotta was endeavouring to compose herself.—The hurry of spirits she had been in at the apprehensions of Horatio's having any amorous engagements, shewing her how much interest she took in him, made her blush at having discovered herself to him so far; and tho' she could not be any more tranquil, yet she thought she would for the future be more prudent; to this end she now affected to laugh at the dilemma into which she told him he had brought himself, by making addresses in two places at the same time, and advised him in a gay manner to be more circumspect.
Thus was this beautiful lady, by her jealousy, convinced of her sensibility; and as difficult as Horatio found it to remove the one, he found his consolation in the discovery of the other.
From the time he had been disengaged from mademoiselle Sanferre, he had retired with Charlotta to one corner of the room; and the greatest part of the company being in a grand dance, the others were taken up in looking on them, so that our young lovers had the opportunity of talking to each other without being taken much notice of; but several of the masquers now drawing nearer that way, prevented Horatio from saying any thing farther at that time, either to clear his innocence or prosecute his passion; and Charlotta, glad to avoid all discourse on a subject she thought herself but ill prepared to answer, joined some ladies, with whom she stayed till the ball was near concluded.
Horatio after this withdrew to a window, and flickered behind a large damask curtain, threw himself on a sopha he found there, and ruminated at full on the adventure had happened to him, in which he found a mixture of joy and discontent: the behaviour of Charlotta assured him he was not indifferent to her; but then the thoughts that he appeared in her eyes as ungrateful, inconstant and perfidious, made him tremble, left the idea of what he seemed to be should utterly erase that favourable one she had entertained of what he truly was. By what means he should prove his sincerity he knew not; and as he was utterly unpracticed in the affairs of love, lamented the absence of his good friend the baron de la Valiere, who he thought might have been, able to give him same advice, how to proceed.
He remained buried, as it were, in these cogitations, when a lady plucked back the curtain which screen'd him, and without seeing any one was there, threw herself on the sopha almost in his lap.—Oh heaven! cried she, perceiving what she had done, and immediately rose; but Horatio starting up, would not suffer her to quit the place, telling her, that since she chose it, it was his business to retire, and leave her to indulge whatever meditations had brought her thither. She thank'd him in a voice which, by its trembling, testified her mind was in some very great disorder; and added, if your good nature, said she, be equal to your complaisance, you will do me the favour to desire a lady, dressed in pink and silver, with a white sattin scarf cross her shoulder, to come here directly:—you cannot, continued she, be mistaken in the person, because there is no other in the same habit. Tho' Horatio was very loth to engage himself in the lady's affairs, fearing to give a second umbrage to mademoiselle Charlotta, yet he knew not how to excuse granting so small a request, and therefore assured her of his compliance.
Accordingly he sent his eyes in quest, which soon pointed out to him the person whom she had described: having delivered his message to her; Horatio! cried she, somewhat astonished, how came you employed in this errand? he knew her voice, and that it was mademoiselle de Coigney, the mistress of his friend the baron, on which he immediately told her how the lady had surprized him: she laughed heartily, and said no more but left him, and went to the window he had directed.
For a long time he sought in vain for an opportunity of speaking to the object of his affections: she was still engaged either in dancing or in different parties; and as his eyes continually followed her, he easily perceived she purposely avoided him. A magnificent collation being prepared in a great drawing-room next to that in which the company were, they all went in to partake of it. The entertainment was served up on two large tables; but as every one was mask'd, and the vizards so contriv'd, that those who wore them could eat without plucking them off, they sat down promiscuously without ceremony or any distinction of degrees, none being obliged to know another in these disguises; only the attendants of the Chevalier St. George, and the princess Louisa, took care not to place themselves at the same they were, so by this means sat together; but a great number of others being mingled with them, no particular conversation could be expected.
Supper being over, they all returned to the ballroom; and Horatio having contrived it so as to get next Charlotta, she could not refuse the offer he made her of his hand to lead her in; but as he was about saying something to her in a low voice, a man came hastily to him, and taking him a little on one side, presented him with a letter, and then retired with so much precipitation, that Horatio could neither ask from whom it came, nor well discern what sort of person it was that gave it him. He put it however in his pocket, designing to read it at more leisure, his curiosity for the contents not equalling his desire of entertaining mademoiselle Charlotta; but that young lady, whose jealousy received new fewel from this object, had slipt away before he could turn from the man, and had already mixed with a cluster of both sexes who had got into the room before them.
Horatio finding all attempts to speak to her that night would be ineffectual, went back into the drawing-room where they supped, and where but few people remaining he might examine the letter with more freedom. He saw it had no superscription; but supposing the inside would give him some satisfaction, he broke it open hastily and found in it these lines.'Whether false or faithful still are you dear tome; and if I am in the least so to you,the treatment you received will be pardoned forthe sake of the occasion:—I own that at aplace where you might have been as particular asyou pleased with me without suspicion, it enragedme to see you waste those precious momentswith others which I flattered myself to have solelyengrossed;—besides, the character of mademoiselleSanserre is so well known, that I thoughtyou would have avoided her of all others; yethad she forced herself upon you, sure you mightafterwards have come to me, when I had givenyou so particular a description of the habit Ishould wear; but instead of making any excusefor a first transgression, you hurry to a second,and pay all your devoirs to another, whom indeedI knew not at that time, but am since informedshe is one of the maids of honour to princessLouisa.—I must confess I had not resolutionenough to suffer so cruel an injustice, and beingtoo much overcome by my passion to resent it asI ought, I left the place, and desired our friend todo it for me.—I find she somewhat exceededher commission, but you must forgive her, sinceit was her love for me:—I am now at herhouse, where I impatiently expect you—Thebaron is secure for some hours;—those we maypass together, if you still think there is any thingworth quitting the masquerade for, to be foundin the arms ofYours, &c,P.S.If you now fail, no excuse hereafter shallever plead your pardon.'
This letter confirmed Horatio in the belief he had before, that he had been mistaken by the lady for some favorite person; but who the lady was, he was as much in the dark as ever; nor would he have given himself any trouble concerning it, if he had not hoped by that means to have retrieved the good opinion of Charlotta. He was however impatient to shew her the letter, as he doubted not but she had seen it delivered to him; but with all his assiduity he could not obtain one word in private during the masquerade; and when it was broke up, which was not till near morning, and they returned to St. Germains, it was impossible, because he knew she must be in the princess's chamber, as he in that of the Chevalier St. George: he was therefore obliged to content himself with the hope that the next day would be more favourable.
An explanation of the foregoing adventure, with a continuation of the intrigues of some French ladies, and the policy of mademoiselle Coigney in regard of her brother.
It cannot be supposed that either of our young lovers enjoyed much true repose that night, tho' the fatigue of the dance might naturally require it: the one did but just know herself a lover before she felt the worst torments of that passion in her jealousy; and the other having been compelled, as it were, to lay open his heart in order to convince his charmer it had no object but herself in view, knew not but his temerity in doing so might be imputed to him as no less a crime than that from which he attempted to be cleared: each had their different anxieties; but those of Horatio were the least severe, because thro' all the indignation of his mistress he saw marks of an affection, which he could not have flattered himself with if they had not been evident; and conscious of his innocence, doubted not but time would both explain that and reconcile the offended fair:—whereas Charlotta was far from being able to assure herself of her lover's fidelity: she could not conceive how, in the compass of one night, such a plurality of mistakes should happen to the same man, and trembled at the reflection that this man, who possibly was the falsest of his sex, should not only have made an impression on her heart, but also, by the concern she had so unwarily expressed, have reason to triumph in his conquest:—ashamed therefore of what she felt, and determined to make use of her utmost efforts to conceal it for the future, if not to conquer it, she thought to shun all occasions of seeing or speaking to this dangerous invader of her peace was the first step she ought to take; but how little is a heart, possessed of the passion her's was, capable of judging for itself, or maintaining any resolutions in prejudice of the darling object!—she had no sooner set it down as a rule to avoid him, than she began to wish for his presence, and contented herself with thinking she desired it only out of curiosity to hear what he would say, and to have an opportunity, by a rallying manner of behaviour, to destroy whatever conjectures he might have form'd in favour of his passion; but all this time she deceived herself, and in reality only longed for an interview with him, in hopes he would find means to justify himself. Horatio, who was impatient to attempt it, seeing her at a distance walking on the terrass with no other company than mademoiselle de Coigney, went immediately to join them, thinking that if the presence of this lady might be a bar to many things he wanted to say to Charlotta, it would be of service to him another way, by preventing her from making him any reproaches.
As soon as he came near, I owe you little thanks, Horatio, said mademoiselle de Coigney laughing, for the interruption you gave me last night. In the multiplicity of those reflections which his own affairs had occasioned him, he had entirely forgot the lady in the window; and imagining some other accident had happened which should make him appear yet more guilty in the eyes of Charlotta, ask'd her, with some impatience, what she meant? don't you remember, answered she, that you brought me a message from a certain lady? Yes, madam, said he, and in that, thought I did no more than my duty obliged me to, as she seemed under some perplexity, which I supposed she was impatient to acquaint you with.
You judged rightly, indeed, resumed de Coigney; but had you known how gladly I would have dispensed with the honour of her confidence, I dare answer you would have spared it me:—I'll tell you, my dear, pursued she turning to Charlotta, for the secrets of this lady are pretty universal; and I am certain that I have heard from no less than fifty different persons, that very affair she was in such a hurry to inform me of last night: you must needs have heard of the amour between madam la Boissy and the chevalier de Mourenbeau? frequently, replied Charlotta; her ridiculous jealousies of him have long been the jest of the whole court; and I never go to Marli or Versailles, but I am told of some new instance of it. And yet to relate a long story of her passion, and his ingratitude, said mademoiselle de Coigney, was I last night dragged into a dark corner, and deprived for an hour together of all the pleasures of the masquerade: it seems she had over-heard some gallant things between him and the daughter of the count de Granpree, and that gave her the occasion of running into a recapitulation of all the professions of constancy he had made to herself, the proofs she had given him of a too easy belief, and the little regard he now paid to her peace of mind.—I was obliged to affect a pity for her misfortunes, and gratitude for the trust she reposed in me, tho' neither the one or the other merited in reality any thing but contempt.
One often suffers a good deal from one's complaisance this way, said Charlotta; and for my part there is nothing I would more carefully avoid than secrets of this nature; but you have not told me how far Horatio was accessary to bringing you into this trouble.
He them said that he would save mademoiselle de Coigney the labour, and immediately related how the lady they were speaking of threw herself upon him, and afterwards enjoined him to deliver the message. But, added he, I think last night was one of the most unfortunate ones I have ever known, since, with all the care I could take, I was continually prevented by other people's concerns from prosecuting my own.—I was not only insulted and reproached for being mistaken for some other person, for it could happen no other way, but also soon after received a letter no less mysterious to me than the blow, which doubtless came from the same quarter: as there is no name subscribed, or if there were, I should look on myself as under no obligation of secrecy, I will beg leave to communicate it to you, ladies.
With these words he took the letter out of his pocket and held it open between them: Charlotta conquered her impatience so far as not to take it out of his hand; but mademoiselle Coigney snatched it hastily, imagining she knew the hand; nor was she deceived in her conjecture: she had no sooner read it slightly over;—see here, mademoiselle Charlotta, said she, a new proof of madam de Olonne's folly, and my brother's continued attachment to that vile woman.
Charlotta then looked over the letter with a satisfaction that was visible in her countenance; and as soon as she had done, then it is plain, said she, that Horatio was mistaken for monsieur de Coigney: but how it happened so is what I cannot conceive.
I can easily solve the riddle, replied mademoiselle de Coigney: I heard my brother say he intended to wear a hunting dress at the masquerade; but being disappointed of going to it, by his most christian majesty sending for him to Marli, I suppose too suddenly for him to give notice of his enforced absence to madame d'Olonne, and Horatio by chance appearing in the same habit which he had doubtless told her he would be in, and their sizes being pretty much alike, she might very well be deceived, and also have a seeming reason for the jealousy and rage her letter testifies.
Nothing could exceed the joy Horatio felt at this unexpected eclaircisement of his innocence, which was also doubled by the pleasure which, in spight of all her endeavours to restrain it, he saw sparkle in the eyes of his beloved Charlotta. Neither of them, however, had any opportunity of expressing their sentiments at this time, de Coigney continuing with them till dinner, when they all separated to go to their respective tables.
The next day afforded what in this he had sought in vain:—he found her alone in her own apartment; and having broke the ice, was now grown bold enough to declare his passion, with all the embellishments necessary to render it successful: mademoiselle Charlotta knew very well what became the decorum of her sex, and was too nice an observer of it not to behave with all the reserve imaginable on this occasion. All the freedom she had been accustomed to treat him with, while ignorant of his or her own inclination, was now banished from her words and actions, and she gravely told him, that if he were in earnest, it was utterly improper for her to receive any professions of that kind without the approbation of monsieur de Palfoy her father; and as there was but very little probability of his granting it, on many considerations, she would wish him to quell in its infancy an affection which might otherwise be attended with misfortunes to them both.
It is certain, indeed, that in this she spoke no more than what her reason suggested: she knew very well that her father had much higher expectations in view for her, and that on the least suspicion of her entertaining a foreigner, and one who seemed to have no other dependance than that of favour, she should be immediately removed from St. Germains; so that it behoved her to be very circumspect in any encouragement she gave him: but tho' she spoke to him in this manner, it was not, as her actions afterwards fully demonstrated, that she really designed what she said should make him desist his pretensions, but that he should be careful how he let any one into the secret of his heart. She foresaw little prospect of their love ever being crown'd with success, yet found too much pleasure in indulging it to be able to wish an extinction of it, either in him or herself; and in spight of all the distance she assumed, he easily perceived that whatever difficulties he should have to struggle with in the prosecution of his addresses, they would not be owing to her cruelty. They were both of them too young to attend much to consequences; and as securing the affections of each other was what each equally aimed at, neither of them reflected how terrible a separation would be, and how great the likelihood that it must happen they knew not how soon.
As the remonstrances of mademoiselle Charlotta had all the effect she intended them for on Horatio, he so well commanding himself that no person in the world, except the baron de la Valiere, who was absent, had the least intimation of his passion, they might probably have lived a long time together in the contentment they now enjoyed, had not an accident, of which neither of them could have any notion, put a stop to it.
Horatio thought no more on the affair of madame de Olonne and monsieur de Coigney, from the time he had been cleared of having any concern with that lady, yet was that night's adventure productive of what he looked upon as the greatest misfortune could befal him. But to make this matter conspicuous to the reader, it is necessary to give a brief detail of the circumstances that led to it.
This lady, who was wife to the baron de Olonne, was one of the most beautiful, and most vicious women in the kingdom; she entertained a great number of lovers; but there was none more attached to her, or more loved by her than young monsieur de Coigney: he had for a long time maintained a criminal correspondence with her, to the great trouble of all his friends, who endeavoured all they could, but in vain, to wean him from her: he had lately a recounter with one of her former lovers, which had like to have cost him his life; and it was with great difficulty, and as much as the relations on both sides could do, by representing to the king that they were set upon by street-robbers, that they avoided the punishment the law inflicts on duelists. De Coigney was but just recovered of the hurts he had received, when, so far from resolving to quit the occasion of them, he made an appointment to meet her at the masquerade:—they had described to each other the habit they intended to wear, when, as he was preparing for the rendezvous, an express came from the king, commanding his immediate attendance at Marli, where the court then was: this was occasioned by old monsieur de Coigney, who having, by some spies he kept about his son, received intelligence of this assignation, had no other way to disappoint it than by the royal authority, which he easily procured, as he was very much in favour with his majesty; and had laid the matter before him.
The person who came with the mandate had orders not to quit the presence of young Coigney, but bring him directly; by which means he was deprived of all opportunity of sending his excuses to madame de Olonne, who coming to the masquerade big with expectation of seeing her favourite lover, and finding him, as she imagined, engaged with others, and wholly regardless of herself, was seized with the most violent jealousy; and not able to continue in a place where she had received so manifest a slight, desired mademoiselle de Freville, her confidant and companion, to upbraid him with his inconstancy; which request she complied with in the manner already related, and which gave mademoiselle Charlotta such matter of disquiet.
The amorous madame de Olonne, however, having given vent to the first transports of her fury, could not hinder those of a softer nature from returning with the same violence as ever; and for the gratification of them wrote that letter which Horatio received, and occasioned afterward the explanation of the whole affair, which explanation he then thought fortunate for him; but by a whimsical effect of chance it proved utterly the reverse.
Mademoiselle de Coigney, who had the most tender affection for her brother, and passionately wished to make him break off all engagements with a woman of madame de Olonne's character, and who might possibly bring him under many inconveniencies, took the hint which mademoiselle Charlotta unthinkingly gave, by telling her how she had been affronted on his account by de Freville, of putting something into his head which might probably succeed better than all the attempts had hitherto been practised to make him quit his present criminal amour.
The first time she saw mademoiselle de Freville, she told her as a great secret that her brother was fallen in love with mademoiselle Charlotta, and that she believed it would be a match, for he had already engaged friends to sollicit monsieur de Palfoy on that score. This she knew would be carried directly to madame de Olonne, and doubted not but it would so increase her jealous rage, that all he could say in his defence would pass for nothing: she also added, that he was in the masquerade that night, tho' for some private reasons best known to himself, said she, he had ordered his people to give out he was gone to Marli.
De Freville, who was the creature of madame de Olonne, no sooner received this intelligence than she flew with it to her, as mademoiselle de Coigney had imagined: neither did it fail of the desired effect. When he came to visit her, as he did on the moment of his return from Marli, the violence of her temper made her break out into such reproaches and exclamations, as a man had need be very much in love to endure: he endeavoured to make her sensible of her error by a thousand protestations; but the more he talk'd of Marli and the king's command, the more she told him of Charlotta and the masquerade; and almost distracted to find he still persisted in denying he was there, or had ever made any tender professions to that lady, she proceeded to such extravagancies as he, who knew himself innocent, could not forbear replying to in terms which were far from being softening:—in fine, they quarrelled to a very high degree, and some company happening to come in at the same time, hindered either of them from saying any thing which might palliate the resentment of the other.
Before they had an opportunity of meeting again, mademoiselle de Coigney saw her brother; and artfully introducing some discourse of mademoiselle Charlotta de Palfoy, began to run into the utmost encomiums on that lady's beauty, virtue, wit, and sweetness of disposition, and at last added, that she should think herself happy in having her for a sister. Young de Coigney listened attentively to what she said: he had often been in her company, but being prepossessed with his passion for madame de Olonne, her charms had not that effect on him as now that the behaviour of the other had very much lessened his esteem of her.
He replied, that he knew no lady more deserving than the person she mentioned, and should be glad if, by her interest, he might have permission to visit her: this was all mademoiselle de Coigney wanted; she doubted not but if he were once engaged in an honourable passion, it would entirely cure him of all regard for madame de Olonne, and as she knew he had a good share of understanding, thought that when he should come to a more near acquaintance with the perfections of Charlotta, the loose airs of the other would appear in their true colours, and become as odious to him as once they had been infatuating.
Finding him so well inclined to her purpose, she took upon herself the care of introducing him, as it was indeed easy to do, considering the intimacy there was between her and Charlotta. That young lady received him as the brother of a person she extremely loved; and little suspecting the design on which he came, treated him with a gaity which heightened her charms, and at the same time flattered his hopes, that there was something in his person not disagreeable to her.
Mademoiselle de Coigney took care that every visit he made to Charlotta should be reported to de Olonne, which still heightening her resentment, together with his little assiduity to moderate it, made a total breach between them, to the great satisfaction of all his friends in general. Those of them whom mademoiselle had acquainted with the stratagem by which she brought it about, praised her wit and address; and as they knew the family and fortune of mademoiselle Charlotta, encouraged her to do every thing in her power for turning that into reality which she at first had made use of only as a feint for the reclaiming of her brother.
The young gentleman himself stood in need of no remonstrances of the advantages he might propose by a marriage with Charlotta; her beauty and the charms of her conversation had made a conquest of his heart far more complete than any prospect of interest could have done: not only de Olonne, but the whole sex would now in vain have endeavoured to attract the least regard from him, and as he was naturally vain, he thought nothing but Charlotta de Palfoy worthy of him.
The success he had been accustomed to meet in his love affairs, emboldened him to declare himself much sooner than he would have done had he followed the advice of his sister, and too soon to be received in a manner agreeable to his wishes by a lady of Charlotta's modesty and delicacy, even had she not been prepossessed in favour of another; for tho' she respected him as the brother of her friend, that consideration was too weak to hinder her from letting him know how displeasing his pretensions were to her, and that if he persisted in them she should be obliged to refuse seeing him any more. He was now sensible of his error, and endeavoured to excuse it by the violence of his passion, which he said would not suffer him to conceal what he felt; but as, when a heart is truly devoted to one object, the sound of love from any other mouth is harsh and disagreeable; the more he aimed to vindicate himself in this point the more guilty he became, and all he said served only to increase her dislike.
Mademoiselle de Coigney after this took upon her to intercede for her brother's passion, but with as ill success as he had done; and being one day more importunate than usual, mademoiselle Charlotta grew in so ill a humour, that she told her she was determined to give no encouragement to the amorous addresses of any man, unless commanded to do so by those who had the power of disposing her; but, added she, I would not have monsieur de Coigney make any efforts that way; for were he to gain the consent of my father, which I am far from believing he would do, I have so little inclination to give him those returns of affection he may expect, that in such a case I should venture being guilty of disobedience.
Is there any thing so odious then, madam, in the person of my brother? said de Coigney with a tone that shewed how much she was picqued. I never gave myself the trouble of examining into the merits either of his person or behaviour, replied she; but to deal sincerely with you, I have a perfect aversion to the thoughts of changing my condition, and if you desire the friendship between us should subsist, you will never mention any thing of it to me;—and as to your brother, when I am convinced I shall receive no farther persecutions from him of the nature I have lately had, he may depend on my treating him with my former regard; till then, you will do me a favour, and him a service, to desire he would refrain his visits.
These expressions may be thought little conformable to the natural politeness of the French, or to that sweetness of disposition which mademoiselle Charlotta testified on other occasions; but she found herself so incessantly pressed both by the brother and the sister, and that all the denials she had given in a different manner had been without effect, therefore was obliged to assume a harshness, which was far from being natural to her, in order to prevent consequences which she had too much reason to apprehend.
Horatio soon discovered he had a rival in monsieur de Coigney; and tho' he easily saw by Charlotta's behaviour that he had nothing to fear on this score, yet the interruptions he received from the addresses of this new lover, made him little able to endure his presence, and he sometimes could not refrain himself from saying such things as, had not the other been too much buoyed up with his vanity to take them as meant to himself, must have occasioned a quarrel.
She made use of all the power she had over him in order to curb the impetuosity of his temper whenever he met this disturber of his wishes; but his jealousy would frequently get the better of the respect he paid her, and they never were together in her apartment without filling her with mortal fears. She therefore found it absolutely necessary to get rid of an adorer she hated, in order to hinder one she loved from doing any thing which might deprive her of him; and tho' she had a real friendship for mademoiselle de Coigney, yet she chose rather to break with her, than run the hazard she was continually exposed to by her brother's indefatigable pursuit.
But all her precaution was of no effect, as well as, the enforced patience of Horatio: what most she trembled at now fell upon her, and by a means she had least thought of. Madame de Olonne, full of malice at being forsaken by her lover, and soon informed by whose charms her misfortune was occasioned, got a person to represent to the baron de Palfoy the conquest his daughter had made in such terms, as made him imagine she encouraged his passion. Neither the character, family, or fortune of de Coigney being equal to what he thought Charlotta might deserve, made him very uneasy at this report; and as he looked on her not having acquainted him with his pretensions as an indication of her having an affection for him; he resolved to put a stop to the progress of it at once, which could be done no way so effectually as by removing her from St. Germains.
To this end the careful Father came himself to that court, and waited on the princess: he told her highness, that being in an ill state of health and obliged to keep much at home, Charlotta must exchange the honour she enjoyed in her service, for the observance of her duty to a parent, who was now incapable of any other pleasures than her society.
The princess, to whom she was extremely dear, could not think of parting with her without an extreme concern, but after the reasons he had given for desiring it, would offer nothing for detaining her, on which she was immediately called in, and made acquainted with this sudden alteration in her affairs.