THE INNOCENT ADULTERY.
The Third Novel.
THE Court of Spain was at Vailladolid, and conse∣quently the inconveniences of those that were oblig'd to attend it, were the greater, (it being a place as famous for the dirtiness of it as Paris, if we may believe an emi∣nent Spanish Poet, who hath given us that ac∣count thereof) when in one of the coldest Nights of a Winter that had been more sharp than ordi∣nary,
and about the hour that most of the Mona∣steries toll their Bell to Ma•ins, a young Gentle∣man, named Don Garcias, slip'd out of a House where he had spent the day in some Company, or h•ply at Gaming, which, however we may be sen∣sible of the other losses consequent thereto, makes us little mind th•t of our Time, though haply the greatest. Though the night were dark, yet had he not any light with him; whether his Lacquey had through sleepiness lost his Link, or that his Master car'd not much whether he had any; and was just passing into the street where his lodging was, when, at a door, opened of a sudden, a certain person was thrust out with such rudeness and violence, that the party fell at his feet, on the other side of the way, as he walk'd along.
He was much startled at the strangeness of the adventure; much more, when going to give his hand to the person he thought so unworthily treat∣ed, he perceiv'd, he was strip't to the Shirt, and heard him sighing and bemoaning himself, with∣out endeavouring in the least to get up. Thence he inferr'd, he had hurt himself in his fall, and thereupon, having, with the help of his Lacquey which was come up to him, set him on his feet, he ask'd him, Wherein he might do him any service.
You may save my Life, and secure my Honour, replies the unknown Person, with a Voice inter∣rupted with sighs, and which convinc'd him of the mistake he had been in all the while, and that it was a Woman he had found so barbarously forc'd out of doors at so unseasonable a time.
I beseech you, added she,
by the same generosity
which makes you so ready to assist me in my misfortune, to dispose of me into some place, where I may remain conceal'd, provided none know of it but your self, and such as you shall be confident of their fidelity.
Don Garcias put his cloak about her, and com∣manding his Lacquey to hold her by the arm on one side as he did on the other, he soon brought her to his Lodging, where all were in their Beds, but one Maid, who opened the door, cursing and bit∣terly railing at those who made her sit up so late. The Lacquey, whether upon the directions of his Master, or the pleasure those of his quality take in the doing of mischief, made her no other answer than that of blowing out her candle, and while she was gone to light it again, calling him a hundred Rogues and Skip-kennels, Don Garcias, conduct∣ed, or indeed rather carried to his Chamber, (which was but one pair of Stairs) the distressed Lady, who with much ado kept on her feet.
The Lacquey having brought up a light, Don Garcias perceived he had met with a very extra∣ordinary adventure, having brought into his Lodg∣ing one of the handsomest Women in all Spain, and one who immediately rais'd in him both Love and Compassion. Her hair was black, but withall of a brightness out-vying that of Jet; her Com∣plexion, a miraculous mixture of Lillies and Roses; her Eyes, to speak mo•estly of them, so many Suns; her Breast lovely, beyond all comparison; her Arms admirable; her Hands yet much more to be admired; and her Stature such as a Man that were a great Monarch should wish in her whom he
call'd his Queen! But that delicate black Hair was all in disorder; that attractive Complexion was pale and discolour'd; those sparkling Eyes were full of tears; that incomparable Breast all bruis'd; those Arms and Hands were not in a much better condition; in a word, that lovely Body, of so graceful a proportion, was full of black and bloody places, as if the owner had been beaten with Stir∣rup-leathers, a Girdle, or something else, no less unfit to be employed on so much tenderness and delicacy. If Don Garcias were infinitely pleas'd to look on so beautiful a person, the same beautiful person was no less troubled to see her self reduc'd to the condition she was in; at the disposal of a Man, she had not the least knowledge of, and one that seem'd not to be five and twenty years of age. He took notice of her disturbance, and did all he could to persuade her, that she should be far from fearing any thing unhandsome from a Gentleman, who would think himself happy to serve her, though with the hazard of his Life.
In the mean time, his Lacquey kindled a little Char-coal fire; for in Spain there's but little other Fuel; but for that, all Countries must be content with what provision Nature hath been pleas'd to make them; though she be ever so much a Step∣mother, there's no repining at her disposal of things. He also laid clean sheets, or should have done if he had any, on his Master's bed, who, having bidden the Lady good-night, left her in possession of his Chamber, double-locking the door upon her, and went to Bed, I know not upon what pretence, to a Gentleman of his acquaintance that had a Cham∣ber
in the same House. He slept in all likelihood better in his Friend's, than the Lady he had re∣commended to his own Bed did in his; he never drew bit, till the cries about the Streets awoke him; she ceas'd not weeping and bewailing her self all night long. Don Garcias got up, rubb'd and powder'd, and made himself as spruce and as youthful as he could. Being come to his own Chamber-door, he lay'd his Ear to the Key-hole, and having heard the poor Lady still bemoaning her self, he made no difficulty to go in to her. His presence heightened the violence of her affliction, and not able to look on him with any command of her grief;
You see, said she to him, a woman, who was, no longer since than yesterday, the most esteem'd of any in Vailladolid, but at present the most despicable, and most infamous, and in a condition now much more likely to raise com∣passion, than she hath sometime been to cause en∣vy. But how great soever the misfortune may be whereto I am reduc'd, the seasonable kindness I receiv'd from you, may yet in some measure remedy it, if after you have afforded me the Sanctuary of your Chamber till night, you get me convey'd thence, either in a Sedan or Coach, to a Convent which I shall name to you. But may I, added she, after all the Obligations you have cast on me, entreat you to be at the trouble to go to my House, to enquire what is said and done there; and, in fine, to inform your self, what discourse there is about the Court and City, con∣cerning the unhappy Woman, whom you have so generously taken into your protection.
Page 136Don Garcias proffer'd himself to go where ever she pleas'd to desire him, and receiv'd her com∣mands, with that earnestness and alacrity, as a per∣son newly fallen in Love, would do those of the Beauty he was become an adorer of. She gave him such directions, as were necessary; he left her, upon engagement to make a speedy return, and she immediately fell to such lamentations, as if she had but newly begun. It was not an hour ere Don Gar∣cias return'd; and upon his coming into the room, perceiv•ng his fair Guest much alarm'd, as if she had had a presentiment of the ill news he brought her;
Madam, said he to her, if you are Eugenia, Wife of Don Sancho, I have somewhat to tell you which very much concerns you; Eugenia is not to be heard of, and Don Sancho in prison, charg'd with the death of his Brother, Don Lewis. Don Sancho, is innocent, said she, I am the unfortunate Eugenia, and Don Lewis was the lewdest Man in the world.
Her tears, which thereupon broke their way with too much violence, and her sobbs admitting very little intermission, suffer'd her not to speak any more; and I think Don Garcias was not in the mean time a little troubled to compose himself to sadness, and to express how sensible he was of her affliction. At last, as we find that violent things are seldome of long continuance, Eugenias's grief admitted some moderation; she wip'd her eyes and face, and went on with the discourse, which, as I said, her tears and sighs had interrupt∣ed.
It amounts not to much, said she to him,
that you know the name and quality of the un∣fortunate
n, you have in so short a time so highly oblig'd; you may well expect she should acquaint you with the particulars of her Life, and by that confidence repos'd in you, make some kind of acknowledgement of the extraordinary obligation you have cast on her. I am come out of one of the best houses in Vailladolid.
I was born to a great fortune, and Nature hath been so in∣dulgent to me, as to matter of Beauty, that, had I been proud of it, I needed not to have fear'd the checks and censures of any: The accom∣plishments of my person brought me more Gal∣lants than the greatness of my Estate; and the reputation of both together rais'd me Adorers in the most remote Cities of Spain.
Among those who propos'd to themselves the felicity of my enjoyments, Don Sancho,
and Don Lewis,
two Brothers, equal both as to the goods of Fortune and Nature, were the most remarkable, as well for the violence of their passion, as the emulation they express'd who should do me the most, and most considerable services. My Friends counte∣nanc'd the pretensions of Don Sancho,
who was the elder of the two, and my Inclinations were consonant to their choice, and dispos'd me to a m•
n turn'd of forty years of age, who, by the mildness and compliance of his disposition, and the extraordinary care he took to please me, got a greater Interest in my soul, than would haply have done a person whose age had been more sui∣table to mine. The two Brothers, though they had been Rivals, had nevertheless liv'd so friend∣ly together as never to have any difference; and
Page 138Don Sancho,
upon his gaining of me, lost not the friendship of his Brother Don Lewis.
Their Houses joyn'd together, or rather were but one House, since the common Wall that separated them, had a Door in it, which, by joynt-consent was not lock'd of either side. Don Lewis
was not shie, even before his Brother, to make the same addresses to me as he was us'd to do whilst he was his Rival; and Don Sancho,
whose affe∣ction was heightened by his enjoyment, and who lov'd me beyond his own Life, look'd on his Courtships as the expressions of an innocent gayness and civility. He call'd me himself his Brother's Mistress, who for his part palliated a real love with so much elusion and artifice, that I was not the onely person deceived in it. In fine, having a while accustom'd himself to entertain me publickly with his passion, not minding who were present, he came at last to make some dis∣coveries of it to me in private, with so much im∣portunity, and so little respect, that I was no longer to doubt of his unworthy designs upon me. Though I was but very young, yet had I prudence enough to put him off with such Re∣torts, as whence he might have taken occasion to let all things pass as if he still onely personated the passionate Lover. I took in jest whatever he said to me seriously, and though to my remem∣brance I never was more angry than at that time, yet I never did my self greater violence, to forbear doing any thing inconsistent with the ordinary indifferency of my humour. This he was so far from making his advantage of, that
it incens'd him; and giving me a frightful look, wherein his wicked intentions were but too visi∣ble; No, no, Madam, said he to me,
I am not so much a counterfeit since I lost you, as I was while I had yet hopes to gain you: and though your rigour be great enough soon to free you from a Love and Addresses which you think troublesome, you have so accustomed me to suf∣fer, that it will be much better done of you to — Forbear ever being alone with you, said I, interrupting him.
Upon which one of my Women, coming into my chamber, prevented him, from making further discoveries of his in∣solence, and me, from expressing my resentment thereof, as highly as the occasion requir'd, and I found my self inclin'd to do. I was very glad since, I had not done it, upon this account of my Husband, and was in hope that wicked Brother would have afforded me less of his love and more of his esteem; but he still continued both his prevarications before people, and his impor∣tunities in private. To elude his Transportations and serious Addresses, I put on the greatest se∣verity I could, so far as to threaten to give his Brother notice of his behaviour towards me. I made use of all the ways I could think on, to make him sensible of his miscarriage. I entreat∣ed, I wept, I promis'd to love him as a Brother; but he would needs have that place in my affe∣ction which Lovers onely pretend to. In fine, sometimes born with, sometimes sharply treated, and still no less amorous than abhorr'd, he would have made me the most unfortunate Woman in
if my conscience, which could not up∣braid me with any thing, had not establish'd and preserv'd the tranquility of my mind. But at last my vertue, which had stood out the assaults of so dangerous an enemy, forsook me; and I became a prey to one I little thought of, because I forsook it. The Court came to Vailladolid,
and brought with it that gallantry which makes Ladies that are unaccustom'd to it, entertain other thoughts than they had before. There is somewhat more than ordinary pleasing in all new things; our Ladies thought they saw something in the Cour∣tiers which they observ'd not in those who amongst us went for the greatest Gallants; and the Courtiers on the other side endeavour'd to please our Ladies, and to insinuate into their fa∣vou•
, though they thought them little better than certain Conquests. Among the Gallants that follow'd the Court, in hopes of some preferment in time for their attendance: a Portuguez,
was much taken notice of, for the sharpness of his wit, the gracefulness of his person and countenance, and more particularly for the greatness of his expences, a charm that h•
th a strange power upon unexperienc'd Ladies, who measure the excellency of the soul, by the magnificence of a man's retinue and his cloaths. Wealth he had not much, but Gaming brought that, which was haply superfluous with others, to further his Accommodations; and the advan∣tages he made of it were so considerable, that he liv'd at as high a rate as the richest and most sumptuous about the Court. I was so unhappy
as to be thought worth his liking, and when, through my own vanity and his courtship, I was persuaded that he was taken with something in me, I thought my self the happiest woman of my quality in the world. I should find it no small difficulty to express what artifices he had to force himself into a woman's affections, and an∣swerably thereto what an excessive love I had for him. That Husband, whom not long before I thought so kind, so dear, and so worthy my re∣spects, was grown, in my apprehension, as despi∣cable, as odious. For Don-Lewis
I had a greater aversion than ever; nothing pleas'd me but An∣drado
; I could love no man but him, and where∣ever I came and had not the sight of him, I asto∣nish'd all people with my distractions and dis∣quiets. Nor was Andrado
's affection to me less violent. His predominant passion of Gaming gave way to that of his Love; his presents gain'd my Women, his Letters and Sonnets took me infinitely, and the Musick he was somewhat over-prodigal of, gave all the Husbands that liv'd in my street occasion to be thinking. In fine, he charg'd me so home, or I made such weak re∣sistance, that I was wholly at his devotion. I pro∣mis'd him all he could desire, insomuch that all the trouble we were at, was about the place and the time. My Husband was to make one at a Hunting-match, which was to have kept him in the Country for several days together. I sent notice of it to my dear Portuguez,
and we ap∣pointed the execution of our amorous designs to be the very night after my Husband's going out
of Town. I was, at a certain hour agreed on be∣tween us, to leave the back-door of our Garden open, and, under pretence of passing away some part of the night there, by reason of the extraor∣dinary heat, to set up a field-bed in a little wain∣scot Bower, open of all sides, and surrounded with Orang-trees and Jessemine. In fine, my Husband left Vailladolid
in the morning: but from that to night seem'd to me the longest day of my life. Night came at last, and my Women having set up a bed in the Garden, I pretended before them an extraordinary sleepiness, so that as soon as they had undress'd me, I bid them go to their beds, one onely excepted who was privy to my design. I was hardly got into bed, and the maid that st•
id with me, whose name was Ma∣rina,
had but lock'd that door of the Garden which came from the house, and open'd the back-door; when my Women came in all haste to tell me that my Husband was return'd. I had but so much time as to get that door lock'd, which I had caus'd to be open'd to let in Andrado.
My Husband came to me with his ordinary caresses, and I leave it to you to imagine how I entertain'd them. He told me the occasion of his so sudden return, was, that the Gentleman who had invi∣ted him to Hunting, had been thrown by his Horse and broke a Leg; and having added to that an account of what else had happened that day, he commended my ingenuity in making choice of a place to avoid the inconveniencies of the heat, and would needs pass away the night with me. He immediately put off his cloaths and
came into bed to me. All I could do was to put on the best countenance I could, and to smother the trouble I was in at his return, and to assure him, by some forc'd caresses of mine, that I was not insensible of his. Andrado,
in the mean time, came according to the appointment, and finding that door lock'd which he should have found open, he with the assistance of his Lacquey made a shift to get over the Garden wall, with hopes, notwithstanding that obstacle, to pass away the night with me. He hath avow'd to me since, that his engaging himself in so presumptuous and dangerous a design proceeded meerly from a motive of jealousie, as being in a manner con∣fident, that some Rival, more in my favour than himself, was admitted to those enjoyments which he had been put into hopes of. The imagination he had, that haply I had put a trick upon him, put him into such a fury, that he was fully resolv'd to be eaven with me, in case what he suspected should prove true, and to exer∣cise the greatest revenge he could think of, up∣on the Gallant he should find possess'd of the place he had promis'd himself. He made his ap∣proaches to the Bower where we were a-bed, with as little noise as he could. 'Twas a clear Moon-shine night, so that I both perceiv'd him coming in, and knew him. He saw I was frighten'd, and observ'd the signs I made to him to withdraw. He could not of a sudden dis∣cern whether the person who lay by me was my Husband or some other; but perceiving in my countenance no less astonishment, than confu∣sion
and shame, and finding upon the Table the Cloaths and Plume of Feathers, which he had seen my Husband in, that morning, he was sa∣tisfi'd it could be no other than Don Sancho
who was a-bed with me, and further confirm'd in that belief, by finding him sleeping more securely than a Gallant could have done, had any been in his place. However he would needs come to that side of the bed which I lay on, and give me a kiss, which I durst not deny him for fear of awaking my Husband. He forbore putting me into any further fright, but went away, lifting up his eyes, shrinking up his shoulders, and doing such actions as betrai'd the regret he conceiv'd at his being so unhappily disappointed, and im∣mediately got out of the Garden with the same facility as he had got into it.
The next morning betimes, I receiv'd a Letter from him, the most passionate I had ever read, and an excellent Paper of Verses upon the tyranny of Husbands. He had spent in composing them the remainder of the night after he had left me; and for the whole day after I had receiv'd them, I did nothing almost but read them over and over, when I could do it without any bodie's observing it; nay, so far were we either of us from reflecting on the danger we had been in, that our thoughts were busi'd to contrive how we might run into the same hazard again. And for my part, though I had not of my self been sufficiently enclin'd to grant him any thing he desir'd of me, nor lov'd Andrado
so much as I did, or had •
ot yielded my self up to the charms of his Letters; yet could
I not have withstood the persuasions of my Wo∣man, who perpetually sollicited me on his be∣half. She reproach'd me, that, since I had so little confidence, it argu'd I had but little Love for Andrado,
and entertain'd me with stories of the passion he had for me, with no less earnestness than if she had been to represent to some Gallant of her own what she her self had for him. I un∣derstood by that carriage of hers, that she was as perfect as needed in the part she was to act, and withall of what importance it was to be careful in the choice of such persons as are plac'd about those of my age and quality. But I had re∣solv'd to ruine my self; and if she had been more virtuous than she was, I should not have trusted her so far. In fine, she got me to consent, that she should receive Andrado
into a Wardrobe adjoin∣ing to my Chamber where she lay alone: and we had ordered things so, as that as soon as my Hus∣band were fallen asleep, she should go into my bed to supply my plac•
, while I pass'd away the night with Andrado.
He was accordingly hid in my Wardrobe, my Husband fell asleep, and I was preparing my self to go to him, with the earnestness usual in persons who are violent in their desires, yet have much to fear; when a horrid confusion of Voices dolefully crying out fire, fire,
struck my ear, and awakened my Hus∣band; and immediately my Chamber was full of smoak, and looking towards the Window, me-thought the Air was all in a flame. A Negro wench that belong'd to the Kitchin had in her
drink set the House on fire, and being fallen a∣sleep it was not perceiv'd, till that, having made its way to some dry Wood, and thence fastening on certain Stables, it began to break through the floor of my Lodging. My Husband was a Man very much belov'd. Of a sudden, the House was full of Neighbours, who came to do what good they could. My Brother-in-law, Don Lewis,
whom the common danger made more diligent than any other, came immediately in to our assistance with all his people, and, animated by his passion, makes a shift to come to my Chamber, even through the flames: which had already taken hold of the Stair-case. He had made such haste that he had nothing about him but his Night-gown, which having wrapped me in, he took me up in his arms, rather dead than living; but more out of a reflection on the danger An∣drado
was expos'd to, than what I was in my self; carried me to his own House through the door that was common between us, and having put me into his own Bed, left me with some of my Wo∣men to keep me company. In the mean time, my Husband, with their assistance, who concern'd themselves in the accident happened to us, or∣der'd things so well, that the fire was extinguish'd after it had done much mischif. Andrado
found it no hard matter to make his escape amidst the confusion and thronging of those who were come either to help us, or to steal; and you may ima∣gine to your self, how joyfully I receiv'd that good news from Marina.
He writ to me the
next day some things that were infinitely inge∣nious and handsome, upon the strangeness of our disappointment, which I answered as I could, and so we alleviated, by mutual Lette•
s, the trouble we both equally conceiv'd, not to see one another.
The mischief which the fire had done, being in some measure repair'd, so that it was thought fit I should remove from Don Lewis's Lodgings to my own; it prov'd no hard matter for Andra∣do to gain my consent to try the same way once more, as being confident it would then have taken its effect, if by so extraordinary an acci∣dent it had not been prevented. But it so hap∣pen'd, that that very night wherein we had ap∣pointed to recover what such unfore-seen emer∣gencies had depriv'd us of, a Gentleman of my Husband's acquaintance, being in some trouble about a Duel he had been engag'd in, and think∣ing himself not safe at an Ambassadour's where he had taken refuge, was forc'd to bethink him of some place where he might be in less danger of falling into the hands of Justice. My Hus∣band brought him secretly to our House, and commanded the Keys to be carried up to his own Chamber after he had caus'd the doors to be lock'd in his presence, for fear some treache•ous or careless Servant might prove the occasion of his Friend's discovery.
This order, whereat I was both surpriz'd and extreamly troubled, was but just put in exe∣cution, when Andrado
gave the signal agreed
on between him and Marina,
to let her know he waited in the street for admission. She, much at a loss what to do with him, made a shift to signifie to him that he should stay a little. We consulted together, she and I, and not finding any possibility to get him into the house at the door, she went to the window, and speaking as low as that he could but hear her, acquainted him with the new obstacle that had interven'd, and propos'd it to him, as the best expedient she could think on, to expect till all were a-bed, and then to get in at a little window in the Kit∣chin, which she would open for him. Andrado,
to satisfie his love, thought nothing too hazar∣dous to attempt. My Husband saw his Friend a-bed, and upon my persuasion went in very good time to his own; all the Servants did the like, and Marina,
when she thought all out of the way, set open the little window for Andrado,
who immediately got half way in; but with so little care, and so unfortunately to himself, that after much striving, which rather hindred than furthered his getting in, he was so lock'd in about the middle between the Iron barrs of the window, that he could get neither forwards nor backwards. His man, who stood all the while in the Street, could do him no service; Marina
from the place she stood in, as little, without the help of some other person. She went and got out of her Bed one of the Maids whom she was very intimate with, telling her, that being to receive a kindness that night from a Sweet∣heart
of hers, one she loved very well, and was shortly to be married to, she had endeavour'd to get him in at the Kitchin window, and that he had fasten'd himself between two Barrs so strangely, that it was impossible to get him out without either filing them off, or removing them out of their places. She desired her to come and help her, which the other was soon persuaded to; but wanting a Hammer or some other Iron-tool fit for such a purpose, the assist∣ance of those two maids had done Andrado
but little good, if he had not himself bethought him of his Dagger, which they made use of so effe∣ctually, that, after abundance of pains, the barrs were got loose out of the wall, and the bold adventurer put out of the fear he was in of being found so shamefully fasten'd in a place; where, to escape best, he could have been look'd on no otherwise than as a Breaker of Houses. This could not be done with so little noise, but that some of our Servants over-heard it, and there∣upon were looking into the street▪ when Andra∣do,
carrying along with him that piece of the G•
ate into which his Body had entred with some violence, was running away as fast as he could, follow'd by his man. The Neighbours, and our people cry'd out, Thieves, and it was taken for granted, that it was only some Rogues that would have broken into Don Sancho
's House where they perceiv'd the Grate broken. Andrado
in the mean time being come to his Lodging, was forc'd to get the Iron grate which he had carried away
about him, filed off; he and his man, with all their striving and endeavours, being not able o∣therwise to shift him of that troublesome girdle.
This third accident put him out of humour extremely, as I have understood since: but for my part, I entertain'd it otherwise, and while Marina,
almost frighted out of her little wits, gave me the relation of it, I thought I should have burst with Laughing. Yet upon second thoughts could I not be less troubled than Andrado
was, at the ill success of our enterprises: but so far were our desires from being cool'd thereby, that they grew the more violent, and permitted us not to delay the satisfaction thereof, any longer than to the next day after this pleasant and unhappy adventure. My Hus∣band was gone into the City, to compose the affairs of his Friend about the Duel, and, in all likelihood, to have been employ'd the re∣mainder of that day. I sent Marina
's Lodging; which was not far from my House. She found him a-bed, having not yet orecome the weariness of his night-adventure, and so dis∣courag'd at the disappointments of his love, that Marina
was not a little troubled to see, with what indifference he entertain'd my fur∣therance of his desires, and the little impatience he express'd to come to me; though she suffici∣ently represented to him the opportunity which then presented it self, and was not to be slighted. At last, after much persuasion and many remon∣strances he came to me, and I received him with
that excess of joy and satisfaction, a person ab∣solutely at the command of her passion could be guilty of. I was so blinded therewith, that I observ'd not so much as Marina
with what coldness he took my kindnesses, though it were but too too remarkable. At last the importunity of my caresses forc'd from him some discoveries of his. Our mutual joy was grown to that heighth, as not to be express'd otherwise than by our silence; and the very thought of what we both desir'd with equal earnestness, had rais'd in me a bashfulness which made me avoid the looks of Andrado,
and might have given him a confidence to do what he pleased with me, when Marina,
who was gone out of the room, as well to stand Sentinel without, as to leave us to the privacy of our enjoyments, comes in with a sudden alarm that my Husband was in the House. She dragged Andrado,
rather dead than living, into my wardrobe, as being, upon a sud∣den reflection on the precedent dangers he had so narrowly escaped, at a greater loss than I was who had most reason to be frighted. My Hus∣band had some business to put his Servants up∣on, before he came up into my chamber. The time that took him up below afforded me the leisure to put my self into order, while Marina
was busied in emptying a great trunk to make a lodging for Andrado.
She had hardly lock'd it by that time my Husband was come into my Chamber, who, having onely kissed me at his coming in, without making any stay with me,
went straight into my wardrobe, and lighting on a Play-book there, sate down and fell a read∣ing. He pitch'd upon some passage he thought pleasant, and consequently would have kept him reading a long time (for he was very Book∣ish) if, by the advice of Marina,
I had not gone into the wardrobe, and, obliging him to lay a∣side his Book, brought him thence into my own Chamber. My misfo•
tune was not an end with this; Don Sancho
taking notice of my being melancholy and troubled in mind, as indeed I had reason to be, endeavour'd to put me into a better humour by the most divertive discourses he could think on. He never made it so earnest∣ly his business to please me, and never displeas'd me more, nor was more burthensome to me. I entreated him to leave my Chamber, pretending an extraordinary inclination to sleep: but he, on the other side, out of an excessive desire to see me out of the sadness he thought me burthen'd with, kept me company, much against my will, longer than I could have wished; and though he were naturally a person the most complaisant of any in the Wo•
ld, I thought him so importunate then, that I was forc'd to hunt him out of the room. He would, out of his kindness, have re∣turn'd into my wardrobe, that he might be near me, but, upon some private reason I gave him why it was not convenient, he was persuaded to go to his Chamber. As soon as I had lock'd my door, I ran to my Wardrobe to deliver An∣drado
out of his close imprisonment. MarinaPage 153
made all the haste she could to open the trunk, and was little better than dead, as well as my self; when we found him in a manner breathless, not discovering either by pulse or stirring any sign, whence we might think he was alive. Do but imagine what a terrible loss I must be at, and what I could bethink my self to do in such an extremity! I did as women do in such oc∣curences; I wept, I tore my hair, I grew desperate, and I think I should not have wanted cou∣rage enough to run Andrado
's dagger into my breast, if the greatness of my affliction had not reduc'd me to such weakness as that I was forc'd to lay my self down on Marina
's bed. She for her part, though troubled as much as any could be, had a greater command of her judgment in our common misfortune, and endeavour'd to find out those remedies, which, weak as I was, I should never have made use of, though I should have kept so much discretion about me as to do it. She told me, that Andrado
might onely be in a sound, and that a Chyrurgeon, either by let∣ting him bloud, or some other way, might recover him into the life he seem'd to have lost. I look'd on her without making any answer, my grief having reduc'd me to senselessness and stupi∣dity. Marina
lost no more time in consulting me any further; she went to put in execution wha•
she had propos'd to me; but as she open'd the doo•
to get out, who should meet her but my Brother-in-Law Don Lewis,
coming, after he had look'd for me in my chamber, to the War∣drobe,
where he concluded I must be, having been told by my husband that I was in no good hu∣mour. This second misfortune we thought more terrible than the former. Had not Andrado
's bo∣dy been expos'd to his sight, as it unhappily was, there needed no more than the confusion and astonishment which he might have observ'd in our countenances, to raise in him a suspition that we were upon some strange design, which no doubt but he would have discover'd, as one that concern'd himself much in my actions, not onely as a Brother-in-law, but also as a Lover. Unavoidable therefore it was that I should cast my self at the feet of a person, whom I had so often seen prostrate at my own; and that, deriving a confidence from the affection he had for me, and that generosity which ought to be insepara∣ble from the quality of a Gentleman, recommend to his absolute disposal what was dearest to me. He did what he could to raise me up; but I, on the other side, resolv'd not to stir off my knees, with all sincerity, as well as my tears and sobs would give me leave, gave him an account of the cruel accident that had befallen me, whereat I doubt not but in his soul he con∣ceiv'd an extraordinary satisfaction. Don Lewis, said I to him,
I do not implore thy generosity to prolong my life for some few days; no, my misfortunes render it so contemptible to me, that I should not want the courage to be my exe∣cutioner, did I not fear my despair would cast some blemish on my honour, from which that of
Page 155Don Sancho,
nay indeed, his life, are haply inse∣parable. Thou maist haply think the disdain•
I have had for thee, were the effects of my aversion rather than my vertue; thou mai'st re∣joice at my disgrace, nay haply make it con∣tribute to thy revenge: but wilt thou have the presumption to impute the crime to me which thou wouldst have taught me, or wilt thou be so ungrateful as not to express some indul∣gence towards one that hath had so much for thee? Don Lewis
not suffering me to proceed any further, You see, Madam said he to me,
how just Heaven is in punishing you, for having been so indiscreet in the choice of what you should have lov'd and what you ought to hate: but I have nothing to lose, as being to make it appear, by my freeing you out of the present trouble you are in, that you have not a better friend in the world than Don Lewis.
He thereupon left me, and returns presently again, with two Por∣ters, whom he had sent one of his servants for. Marina
and I in the interim had made a shift to get Andrado
's body into the Trunk again: Don Lewis
himself help'd the two fellows to get it on their shoulders between them, and caus'd it to be carried to a friend of his, whom he acquainted with the adventure, having al∣ready made him privy to the love he had for me.
Having, as soon it was brought in, taken An∣drado
's body out of the Trunk, Don Lewis
caus'd it to be laid all along upon a Table, and
as they were pulling off his cloaths, feeling his pulse, and laying his hand upon that part of the body where the beating of the heart is felt, he found him to be not quite dead. With all ex∣pedition a Chirurgeon was sent for, while in the mean time they put him into bed, and us'd all the means they could think on to bring him to life. At last, he came to himself; he was let bloud; a Lacquey was left to wait on him; and the room was clear'd, that so nature and rest might perfect what art and industry had be∣gun.
You may well imagine what astonishment Andrado
was in, when, after this long Trance, he found himself in a bed, not able to call any thing to mind but the fear he had been in, and that he had been put into a Trunk, not knowing where he was, nor what he had either to hope or fear. He was in this terrible distraction when he heard the chamber door open, and after the curtains were drawn, by the light of the torches that had been brought in, perceiv'd Don Lewis,
whom he knew to be my Brother-in-law, and who having taken a chair spoke to him in these tearms: Do you know me, Signior Andrado, said he to him?
And do you not withal know I am Brother •
o Don Sancho?
I do indeed know you, repli'd Andrado,
and withal to be Brother to Don Sa•cho.
And have you any remem∣brance, says Don Lewis,
of what happen'd to you this day at his house? But whether you do or no continu'd he,
assure your self, that if ever I hea•
of any further designs you have upon my Sister, or are so much as seen in the street where she lives, I shall be indebted to you a mischief, and will be sure to pay it, notwithstanding all your caution; and know, you had been ere this among your acquaintances in the other World, had I not too much pity and compliance for an impudent and unfortunate woman, who hath repos'd this confidence in me; and were not assured, that the criminal designs you have laid together against my Brother's honour, had not their effect. I advise you therefore to change your lodging, and flatter not your self with any hope you can elude my resentment, if you perform not the promise I expect you should make me to do it. Andrado
would gladly have engag'd himself to much more. He made the most unworthy submissions to him he could think on, and acknowledged he ought him a life which it was in his power to have taken away from him. His weakness was such as might well confine him to his bed; but the cruel fear he had been in, strengthned him to get up. He there∣upon conceiv'd an aversion for me, greater than the love he had sometimes born me, insomuch, that it was a horrour to him but to hear me nam'd. I was in the mean time in no small trouble, to know what was become of him, yet had not the confidence to make any enquiry after him of Don Lewis,
nor indeed to look with any assurance upon him. I sent Marina
's lodging, whither she came, not long
after he had got thither himself, and while he was packing up his things to be gone to a lodging he had taken in another quarter of the City. As soon as ever he saw her, he told her that if she had any message from me, she might carry it to some body else, and having given her a short account of what had pass'd between him and Don Lewis,
he clos'd his relation with this cha∣racter of me, that I was the most ungrateful, and most perfidious woman in the world; that he look'd on me no otherwise than as one that had plotted his ruine, and that I should no more think of him, than as if I had never seen him.
With these words he dismiss'd Marina
; but notwithstanding the astonishment she was in at such a sharp entertainment, she had the wit to follow him at a distance, and to observe the place where his things were carried, and by that means discover'd the new lodging he had ta∣ken. The trouble it was to me to be charg'd with an act of malice I was no way guilty of, and to be hated by a person I lov'd so well, and for whose sake I had hazarded my life and my honour, suffer'd me not to give way to all the joy which I should have conceiv'd at his being out of danger. I fell into a deep melancholy, which soon turned to a sickness, and that being such as the Physicians could not well give any account of, my husband was extremely troubled thereat. To heighten my misfortune, Don Lewis
began to press, and make his advantages of the
extraordinary service he had done me, inces∣santly importuning me to grant him that which I was content Andrado
should have had, and reproching me with the love I had for my Gallant, when ever I represented to him the duty I ought a Husband, and what he ought a Brother. Thus, hated by what I lov'd, lov'd by what I hated; depriv'd of the sight of Andrado,
too often troubled with that of Don Lewis,
and tormented with perpetual reflections on my in∣gratitude to the best Husband in the world, who thought nothing too much to please me, and was more troubled at my indisposition than I was my self, when, had he known the truth, he might justly have taken away my life; in∣cessantly baited with the insupportable remon∣strances of my conscience, and rack'd between the two most contrary passions, Love and Hatred; I kept my bed for two months, expecting death with gladness: but it was Heaven's pleasure to reserve me to greater misfortunes. The strength of my age, much against my will, overcame and dispell'd the sadness which I thought onely death could have put a period to. I recover'd my health, and Don Lewis
renew'd his prose∣cutions with greater insolence than before. I had given my women order, and particularly Ma∣rina,
that they should never leave me alone with him. Being enrag'd at that obstacle, and wea∣ried out with my perpetual resistances, he resolv'd to obtain, by the most horrid piece of treachery, that ever came into the mind of a person con∣summately
wicked, what I had deni'd him with so much constancy.
I have already told you that between his house and ours there was a door, seldom lock'd of either side. Having set a night wherein he though: to put his damnable design in execution, and staying till all, as well at our house as his, were abed, he comes in at the door; open'd that of our house which was to the street, and going to our stable let loose all the horses, whereof there was a considerable number, and drove them into the court, whence they got into the street. The noise they made soon awaken'd those who had the care of them, and their bustling about the house awakened my husband. He was a great lover of Horses; and had no sooner heard that his own were gotten into the streets, but put∣ting on his night-gown, he runs out after them, very much incens'd at his Grooms, and the Por∣ter, for being so careless as not to make fast the great gate. Don Lewis,
who had hid himself in the room next my chamber, and had seen my husband when he went out, slipp'd down into the court some time after him, and having made fast the street door, and expected some little while to avoid my suspition had he come imme∣diately upon me, he came at last and laid him∣self down by me, acting the part of my husband in every thing so well, that it is not much to be wondred at, if I were mistaken in him. His standing so long in his sh•
rt, had made him very cold; so that as he came into bed: Good Lord,
sweet-heart, said I to him,
how cold you are! How can I be otherwise, repli'd he, counter∣feiting his voice
; 'tis cold standing in the streets. And for your horses, said I,
are they taken? My people are gone after them, repli'd he.
And thereupon coming close to me, as it were to warm himself; amidst his embraces and kind∣nesses, he had his design upon me, and dishonor'd his Brother. That Heaven was pleas'd to per∣mit it, might haply be, that I should be a future instrument to punish so enormous a crime, that my honour might be re-establish'd by my self, and my innocence publickly acknowledg'd.
one what he came for, he pretended to be much troubled about his horses; he got up from me, went and open'd the street door, and with-drew to his own lodgings: not a little ele∣vated at the crime he had committed, and hug∣ging himself haply in the reflection of what was to prove the occasion of his ruine. My husband comes in presently after, and having cast himself into bed, turn'd to me, frozen as he was, and oblig'd me by caresses, which I thought extra∣ordinary, to beg of him, that he would let me sleep. He thought it very strange; I wondred much he should; and thereupon made no further doubt of my being betrai'd. The very thought of it would not suffer me to close my eyes till it was day. I got up much earlier than I was us'd to do. I went to Mass, and there met with Don Lewis
dress'd as if he had been for some extra∣ordinary entertainment, with a countenance as
chearful as mine was sad and dejected. He pre∣sented me with holy Water; I receiv'd it with much indifference at his hands, which he observing, and looking on me with a malicious smile: Good Lord, Madam, said he,
how cold you are? At these words, being the same I had said to him, and enough to satisfie me who was the Author of my misfortune, I grew pale, and immediately blush'd, upon thought that I had grown pale. He might have observ'd in my eyes, and by the disorder into which those words had put me, how highly I was offended at his in∣solence. I went away without so much as look∣ing on him. What distractions I was in all Mass-time, you may easily imagine; as also how infi∣nitely my husband must needs be troubled, when he observ'd that all dinner time, and all day af∣ter, I minded not what was said or done, and could not forbear sighing and discovering the disturbance of my mind, though I endeavoured all I could to smother it. I withdrew to my chamber sooner than I was us'd to do, pre∣tending to be somewhat indispos'd. I be∣thought my self of a hundred several ways to be reveng'd; but at last my fury suggested one to me which I fix'd upon. When bed-time was come I went to bed at the same time with my Hus∣band. I pretended to be asleep, to oblige him to do the like; and finding him fast enough, and confident all the servants were no less, I got up, took his dagger, and (besotted and blinded as I was by my passion) it prov'd nevertheless so sure
a guide to me, that through the same door, and by the same way that my enemy got into my bed; I got to the side of his. My fury, though violent, made me not do any thing precipitately; with the hand I had free I felt for his heart, and when by the beating thereof I had discover'd it, the fear of missing my blow made not that hand to tremble which held the Dagger; but, with all the circumspection imaginable, I thrust it twice into the heart of the detestable Don Lewis,
and so punish'd him with a gentler death than he had deserv'd. And doubting those two might not do my work, I gave him five or six stabs more, and so return'd to my chamber, with a tranquilli∣ty; whence I inferr'd my self, that I had never done any thing, from the doing whereof I should derive greater satisfaction. I return'd my husband's Dagger, all bloudy as it was, into the sheath; I put on my cloaths with as much haste and as little noise as I could: I took along with me what Jewels and Mony I had: and, no less distracted by my love than troubled at what I had done, I left a husband who lov'd me beyond his own life, to cast my self upon the courtesie of a young man, who not long before had sent me word that he had not the least respect for me. The fearfulness incident to my sex, was so strangely fortifi'd by the im∣petuous passions I was hurried withal: that, all alone, and in the night time, I walked from my own house to Andrado
's lodgings, with as much confidence, as if I had done a good action,
at noon day. I knock'd at the door, and was answered, that Andrado
was not within, being engag'd at a Play at a friend's not far off▪ His servants who knew me, and were not a little sur∣priz'd to see me, entertain'd me with much re∣spect, and got me a fire in their Master's cham∣ber. It was not long ere he came in himself, and I believe it was the least of his thoughts to find me waiting for him in his chamber. He no sooner cast his eye on me, but betraying his astonishment in the wildness of his looks: Madam Eugenia, saith he,
what business hath brought you hi∣ther? What can you expect more from a per∣son, you would have sacrific'd to the jealousie of a Brother-in-law you are desperately in love with? Ah Andrado! repli'd I,
do you make that construction of an unavoidable accident, which forc'd me to make submissions to that man whom of all the world I was most afraid of being oblig'd to? And should you pass so disadvan∣tageous a judgment on a person that hath given you such extraordinary demonstrations of her affection? I expected something else than re∣proaches at your hands. If I am guilty of any crime, it is not against you that I have com∣mitted it, but against a Husband that should have been dear to me; proving ungrateful to him because I would not be so to you, and forsaking him to come to a cruel man whose entertainment of me is as unworthy as my kindnesses to him are great. When your death, which I thought really so, had put me into that
despair, wherein a woman, perpetually expecting the minute of being surpriz'd by her husband, might be; and when thereupon Don Lewis
came upon me in that deplorable condition, what could I do less than trust my self to his genero∣sity and the love he had for me? He hath trea∣cherously made his advantages of the confidence, to the loss of my honour; but 'tis my satisfaction, that he hath bought his enjoyments with the price of his life, which I have now taken away from him; and that, my dear Andrado,
is the occasion of my coming hither. I must keep out of the hands of Justice, till such time as it be known, what crime Don Lewis
is guilty of, and what misfortune hath befallen me. I have mony and Jewels good store, upon which you may live handsomely in any part of Spain,
whither you shall think fit to accompany my misfortune; while Time shall make all the world sensible, that I am much more to be pitied than blam'd, and my future carriage satisfie you in particular, that it was not without reason I did what I have done. Very likely, interrupted he,
you have great Apologies to make for your self, and I shall supply the place of Don Lewis,
till thou art wea∣ry of me, and then be kill'd, as he was, to make way for another. Ah Woman insatiably lustful! continu'd he:
What could I expect more than this last wickedness of thine to be confirm'd in the persuasion I had, that it was thy design to sa∣crifice me to thy Gallant? But thou must not think to escape with bare reproaches; no, I will
rather be the Executioner to punish thy crime, than be thy Complice in it.
With those words he violently tore off my cloaths, and, with a cruelty, which rais'd horrour even in his own servants, gave me a hundred blows, naked as I was, and having satiated his rage, till that he was grown weary, he thrust me out into the street, where if you had not fortunate∣ly lighted upon me, I should either have been dead, or in their hands who haply are searching after me.
Having given over speaking, she shew'd Don Garcias her arms all black and blew, as also her breast, and what other parts of her body civility permitted her to discover, which were in the same condition. Whereupon re-assuming her discourse:
Thus have you heard, generous Don Garcias, said she to him, the deplorable History of the unfortu∣nate Eugenia. Let me beg your advice; if so there be any for an inexpressibly-unhappy wo∣man, that hath been the occasion of so many fa∣tal accidents. Ah Ma•am, replies Don Garcias, were it but as easie for me to advise you what is to be done, as it will be to punish. Andrado, if you give me leave! Deny me not the honour to be the Revenger of your quarrel; and be not shie in employing upon any design you would have to be undertaken, a person who is no less sensible of your misfortune, than of the injury hath been done you.
Don Garcias said this to her, with an earnest∣ness, which satisfi'd Eugenia, that the Compassion was not so great as the Love he seem'd to have for
her. She made the most obliging acknowledgements of his kindnesses which her civility and gratitude could inspire her with: and further intreated him to take the pains to go once more to her house to be more particularly inform'd of what was said con∣cerning her departure and the death of Don Lewis.
He got thither, as they were carrying to prison Don Sancho, his servants, and those of Don Lewis, who had taken their oaths that their Master had been in love with Eugenia. The common door, which was found open, and Don Sancho's dagger still bloudy, gave much suspition of his being guil∣ty of his brother's death, whereof he was no less innocent than troubled at it. The sudden departure of his wife, and her taking away her Jewels and mony, put him into such an amazement, as out of which he could not recover himself, and troubled him more than his imprisonment and the procee∣dings of Justice against him. Don Garcias was in much impatience to give Eugenia an account of these things: but it so happened he could not do it so soon as he wish'd. Meeting in the street with a friend who had some business with him, he kept him a good while in discourse not far from his own lodging: and, as unlucky fortune would have it, over against that of Andrado, whence he saw coming out a servant, booted, carrying a Port∣mantue. He follow'd him at a distance accompa∣ni'd by his friend; and having observ'd his going to the Post-house, he went in after him, and found him taking up three horses, to be made ready with∣in half an hour. Don Garcias suffer'd him to go
his ways, and bespoke the same number of horses to be ready at the same time. His friend ask'd him what he meant to do with them? he promis'd to tell him if he would go along with him: where∣to the other consented, without troubling himself any further what his design might be. Don Garcias entreated him to go and put on his Boots, and ex∣pect him at the Post-house, while he took a turn to his lodging.
They thereupon parted, and Don Garcias went to Eugenia, to acquaint her with what he knew of her affairs, and to give his Landlady, a woman that might safely be trusted with a secret of that importance, order to get Eugenia cloaths and all things necessary, that she might be convey'd that very night into a Convent, whereof the Abbess was her kinswoman and very much her friend. Having so done, he whisper'd his Lacquey in the ear, and bid him carry to that friend's lodging whom he a little before parted with, his riding suit and boots: and having entreated his Landlady to be very careful of Eugenia, and to keep her from the sight of all people, he went to his friend, and soon after along with him to the Post-house, where they had not been long ere Andrado came also. Don Garcias ask'd him which way he travell'd? he made answer, to Sevil. Then one Post-boy will serve us both, says Don Garcias to him. Andrado was content, and haply look'd on Don Garcias and his friend, no otherwise th•n as two simple Cullies, whose mony he thought so far due to him, as that he would not have given much to ensure it. They
left Vailladolid all together, and ro•e on a good while not thinking of any thing but riding, there being indeed but little conversation between people that ride Post. At last coming into a Cham∣pian far from any Houses, Don Garcias thought it a place fit for his Design. He rid a little before, and turning about of a sudden, he bid Andrado stand. Andrado asked him his meaning.
My intenti∣ons are, replied Don Garcias, to fight with you, to revenge, if I can, the quarrel of Eugenia, whom you have injur'd beyond all hope of forgiveness, in treating her after the basest and most unwor∣thy manner, that could possibly fall into the imagination of a person of quality. I am not sorry for what I have done, replies Andrado with much confidence, not seeming to be in the least surpriz'd at the accident; but you may haply re∣pent your forwardness to do what you are now engag'd in.
He was a person that had Valour; he alighted at the same time with Don Gar∣cias,
there having no more words pass'd between them; and they had their Swords ready to fall on: when Don Garcias
's Friend tells them, they should not fight without him, and profer'd to measure his Weapon with Andrado
's man, who was a fellow whom his countenance and propor∣tion would not have betray'd for a Coward. An∣drado
protested, that though he had to his Second the greatest Gladiator in all Spain,
he would not fight otherwise than singly one to one. His man not much minding the protestation of his Master, protested for his own part, that he would not fight
with any man upon any tearms at all. So that Don Garcia
's Friend was forc'd to be onely a Specta∣tor, or God-father to the Combatants, which is no new thing in Spain.
The Duel lasted not long: Heaven was pleas'd to favour the just Cause Don Garcias
was engag'd in, so far, as that his Adver∣sary making at him with greater violence than skill, run upon his Weapon, and fell at his feet with loss of blood and life. Andrado
's man, and the Post-boy, as fearful one as the other, cast themselves at Don Garcias
's feet, who intended them not any hurt. He commanded Andrado
's man to open the Portmantue, and to take out of it all his Master had taken from Eugenia.
He imme∣diately obey'd, and deliver'd to Don Garcias,
a Mantle, a Gown, and Coat, all very rich, and a little Cabinet, whereof, the weight discover'd it was not empty. The fellow found the Key of it in his Master's Pocket, and gave it Don Garcias,
who thereupon dismissing him, told him he might dis∣pose of his Master's body as he pleas'd, and threatened he would be the death of him, if ever he were seen at Vailladolid.
He commanded the Post-boy not to come into the City till after night, and promis'd him he should find at the Post-house the two Horses he and his Friend had taken up. I am apt to believe he was punctually obey'd by these two persons: who thought themselves very much oblig'd to him, that he had not kill'd them as he had done Andrado.
It was never heard what his man did with his body; and for his cloaths, and what else he had, there is but too much pro∣bability,
he became Master thereof. Nor was it ever known how the Post-boy behav'd himself in the business.
Don Garcias and his Friend made all the speed they could to Vailladolid. They alighted at an Embassadours of the Emperour, where they had Friends, and continued there till after night. Don Garcias sent for his man, who told him that Euge∣nia was much troubled she could not see him. The Horses were sent to the Post-house by an unknown person, who having deliver'd them to one that be∣long'd to the Stable, immediately slunk away. There was no more talk in Vailladolid of the death of Andr•do than as of a thing which it was un∣certain whether it were so or not; or if any spoke of him, 'twas onely as of a Gentleman kill'd by some secret Enemy, or by High-way-men. Don Garcias went to his Lodging, where he found Eugenia put into such cloaths as his Landlady had provided for her; such I believe as were taken up at the Brokers; for in Spain persons of very good quality think it no disparagement to take up cloaths, and to furnish their Houses that way, no more than other people of less account. He secret∣ly return'd Eugenia her own Cloaths and Jewels, and gave her an account after what manner he was reveng'd of Andrado. The Relation he made to her wrought in her a compassion for the unfortu∣nate end of a person whom she had dearly lov'd; and, the thought of her being the occasion of so many Tragical accidents, causing in her no less affliction than the remembrance of her own mis∣fortunes,
she fell a weeping as bitterly as at any time before.
But what added not a little to her affliction, was, that Proclamation had been made that day all over Vailladolid, prohibiting all persons to en∣tertain Eugenia, and that whoever brought tidings of her should have two hundred Crowns. This made her resolve to get into a Convent so soon as she could. She pass'd away that night in Don Gar∣cia's Chamber with as little tranquillity as the precedent. The next morning at break of day he went to that Superiour of the Covenant, who was a Kinswoman of Eugenia's: who, notwithstand∣ing the Proclamation, promis'd to receive her, and to keep her undiscover'd as much as lay in her power. Having left her, he went and took up a Coach, and order'd it to wait for him at a place not much frequented near his Lodging, whither he conducted Eugenia, accompanied by his Landla∣dy. The Coach brought them to a place they had appointed the Coach-man to stop at, where they alighted, that he might have no knowledge of the Convent, whither Eugenia was to retire. She was kindly entertain'd by the Kinswoman; Don Gar∣cias's Landlady took leave of her, and went to inform her self what posture the affairs of Don Sancho were in. She understood it went hard with him, and that there was some talk of putting him to the Rack. Don Garcias gave an account of all passages to Eugenia, who was so troubled to see her Husband in danger to suffer for a crime he had not committed, that she took a resolution to cast
her self into the hands of Justice. Don Garcias persuaded her to forbear a while, and advis'd her rather to write to the Judge, to acquaint him that she onely could give an account of the murther of Don Lewis. The Judge, by good fortune chanc'd to be of some Kin to her, came to speak with her, together with others that were to be his Assistants in the trial of Don Sancho. Eugenia confess'd that she had kill'd Don Lewis: gave them a particular relation of the just motive she had to engage her self in an action that seem'd so violent in a Wo∣man, omitting nothing of what had pass'd between Don Lewis and her self; what concern'd the love of Andrado, onely excepted. Her confession was written down, and a report thereof was made to his Catholick Majesty; who, taking into considera∣tion the greatness of Don Lewis's crime, the just resentment of Eugenia, her courage and procedure thereupon, the innocence of Don Sancho and his Servants, set them at liberty; and, upon the in∣treaties of the whole Court mediating on her be∣half, granted Eugenia her pardon. Her Husband was not displeas'd at her for the death of his Bro∣ther, and, it may be, lov'd her the better for what she had done. He went to see her as soon as he got out of Prison, and us'd all the entreaties and per∣suasions he could to get her home again; but all prov'd ineffectual. She doubted not but that he had conceiv'd such a resentment for the death of Don Lewis as he ought to have done; that he had made some discoveries of what had past between her and the Portugueze; and thence concluded,
that the least suspition a Woman gives in point of honour may soon be heightened into a jealousie in the apprehensions of a Husband, and will soon∣er or later dissolve the strictest ties of conjugal Love.
While things stood thus, poor Don Sancho vi∣sited her often: and, by the tenderest demonstra∣tions of an excessive Love, endeavour'd to get her out of the Convent, to be once more the absolute Mistress of his estate and himself. But she on the other side continu'd constant to her resolution. She got him to allow her a Pension proportionable to her quality, and the fortune she brought; and, abating onely her obstinacy in denying to live with him, she behav'd her self so obl•gingly towards that kind Husband, that he had all the reason in the world to be satisfi'd with her.
But all she did in the Convent to please and hu∣mour him, heightned the regret he conceiv'd that he could not get her thence. He at last took it so much to heart that it brought him into a Sickness, and that sickness prov'd such, as more than threa∣tened the shortning of his days. He sent to Eugenia, begging the satisfaction to see her once at his House before he took his final leave of her. She could not deny that fatal kindness to a Hus∣band that had been so dear to her, and whose affection towards her was then no less violent than it had ever been. She went to see him expire, and had almost, out of very grief, died with him, see∣ing him discover no less satisfaction that he had had but a sight of her, than if she had restor'd him
the Life he was upon the point to quit: Nor did this goodness of Eugenia go unrewarded; he left her his whole Estate, and consequently, one of the most beautiful and richest Widdows in Spain, after her so near being one of the most un∣fortunate Women in the World. The affliction she conceiv'd at the death of her Husband, was great, and not personated: She gave order for his Fu∣neral Solemnities, possess'd her self of his Estate, and return'd to her Convent, resolv'd to spend the remainder of her Life there. Her Friends propos'd to her the best matches in all Spain: She preferr'd her own quiet before their ambition, and troubled no less at their importunate remonstrances than persecuted with the addresses of no small number of Pretenders, which her Beauty and Wealth drew daily to the outer-room of the Convent where she was; She at last would not be seen, nor speak with any but Don Garcias. This young Gentle∣man had done her so seasonable a service, in an emergency so important, and with such earnestness, that she could not see him, without bethinking her self, that she ought him somewhat beyond civili∣ties and acknowledgements. She had observ'd by his Retinue and Equipage, that he was not rich, and she was generous enough to proffer him the assistances which a necessitous person may without shame receive from another that is more wealthy: but in that small time she had spent in his Lodg∣ing, and by the frequent discourses he had with her, he had discovered a Noble soul elevated above the common, and absolutely dis-engag'd from all
manner of Interests, those only of honour excepted. This rais'd a fear in her he might take it unkindly, if she made him a Present not suitable to the great∣ness of her estate and mind; and she was afraid, on the other side, he should think her wanting in point of gratitude, if she made not some discoveries of her liberality.
But if her thoughts were in this distraction for Don Garcias, his were in no less, as to what con∣cern'd her. He was insensibly fallen in love with her; but though the respect he had for her, and the lowness of his Fortunes should not have de∣terr'd him from making any such proposal; what presumption would it have been in him to speak of love to a Woman, whom onely Love had ex∣pos'd to so great misfortunes? and that while the sadness of her countenance, and her frequent weep∣ing, argu'd her soul too full of grief to be capable of any other passion.
Among those who visited Eugenia, as her most humble Slaves, with design to become afterwards her Masters, and those not easie to please, among those, I mean, who made their addresses to her, and whom she shook off with absolute denial, one Don Diego was remarkable for his obstinacy, as having not any thing else in him worth notice. He was as arrant a Coxcomb, as it was possible a young man could be; and, what is consequent to that, fantastick, and, what to that, insufferably humoursome. Besides all this, the imperfections of his body were suitable to those of his mind; and as to the goods of fortune, he was as poor, as
greedy of them: but descending out of one of the best Houses in Spain, and being of near Kin to one of the principal Ministers of State, which one∣ly made him so much the more insolent, there was a certain compliance had for him where ever he came, upon the account of his quality, though it had not the least recommendation of any thing of worth.
This same Don Diego, such as I have described him, thought he had found in Eugenia, all he could have wished in a Wife, and imagin'd it no hard matter to obtain her, by the assistances of his Friends at Court, whose encouragements put him into great hopes of it. But Eugenia was not so easily persuaded to a business of that importance, as they had flattered themselves she would have been, and the Court would not, to favour a private person, do a violence that should be of ill exam∣ple to the publick. Eugenia's retiring into a Con∣vent, her resolution to continue there, her avoid∣ing of all visits, and the backwardness of those who had encourag'd Don Diego in his applica∣tions to her, blasted the hopes he had conceiv'd of obtaining her without trouble. He therefore resolv'd to force the Convent, and to carry her away, an attempt the most highly criminal in Spain, and such as wherein onely an extravagant fool, such as he was, would engage himself in. He found, for money, people as mad as himself; he gave order for the laying of Horses at several pla∣ces, between Vailladolid and a certain Sea-port, where a Vessel was to expect him ready to set Sail.
He forc'd the Convent; carried away Eugenia; and that unfortunate Lady was to become the prey of the most worthless person in the World, if Heaven had not strangely reliev'd her, when she l•ast look'd for it. One single person, who, upon the cries of Eugenia, met the Ravishers, forc'd them to a sudden halt, and charg'd with so much valour, that, upon the first meeting, he wounded Don Die∣go and divers of his Complices, and kept them in •otion till the Citizens making head, and seconded by the Officers of publick Justice, had reduc'd Don Diego and his party to those extremities, that they must either be kill'd or taken.
Thus was Eugenia rescu'd; but before she would be conducted back to her Convent, she would needs know who that gallant Person was, who had so generously expos'd his Life to serve her. He was found, wounded in several places, and, through loss of abundance of blood, in a manner Dead. Eugenia desir'd to see him, and had no sooner cast her eyes on his countenance, but she knew him to be Don Garcias. Her compassion was great as her astonishment, and she made such passionate discoveries thereof as might have been interpreted to her disadvantage, if there had not been other∣wise a just ground of her affliction. She pre∣vail'd so far, with much intreaty, as that they would n•• carry to Prison her generous Reliever, whom Don Diego expiring, and his complices, acknow∣ledg'd not to be of their party, but the person who had oppos'd their design. He was carried to the next House, which by good fortune happen'd
to be that which had some time been Don Sancho's was now Eugenia's, and where she had left all her Houshold-stuff and some Servants. He was re∣commended to the care of the best Surgeons of both Court and City. Eugenia return'd into the Convent, and the next day was forc'd to leave it; and come to her own House, upon the publishing of a Proclamation, that no secular persons should be entertain'd into Nunneries. The next day Don Diego dyes, and his Friends had much ado to hinder a Trial to pass upon him, though Dead▪ but his Complices were punish'd according to their deserts. Eugenia in the mean time was al∣most out of her self to see so little hopes of Don Garcias's recovery; she implor'd the assistances of Heaven; She profer'd the Surgeons to reward them beyond what they would have ask'd her; but their Art was at a loss, and all their hope was in God and the Youthful constitution of the sick person. Eugenia stirr'd not from his Bed-side, and her attendances on him day and night were so assiduous, that they might at last have reduc'd her to a necessity of having others besides her self. She often heard him pronounce her name in the transportations of his Feaver, and among things incoherent, which his distracted imagination made him speak, he was often heard talking of Love, and discoursing with himself, as one that were fighting or quarrelling. At last, Nature, for∣tifi'd by remedies, overcame the violence of his disease; his Feaver remitted; his wounds appeared in a better condition; and the Surgeons as••r'd
Page 180Eugenia of his recovery, provided no other acci∣dent happen'd to him. She made them very great presents, and caused him to be pray'd for, in all the Churches of Vailladolid. Then was it that Don Garcias understood from Eugenia, that it was she whom he had rescu'd, and she was told by him how it came to pass, that he happened to relieve her so seasonably, being upon his return into the City after he had been to see a friend of his out of Town. She could not, even in his presence, forbear acknowledging how highly she thought her self oblig'd to him; and he could as little smother the extraordinary satisfaction he con∣ceiv'd to have done her so considerable a service: but there was yet another thing of greater impor∣tance he had to acquaint her withal.
One day, she being alone with him, and intreating him not to suffer her to be any longer ungrate∣ful, but to make use of her in something of con∣sequence, he took that opportunity to discover to her the true sentiments he had for her. The very thought of what he was about to do, made him sign; he grew pale; and the disturbance of his mind was so visible in his countenance, that Eu∣genia was afraid he was in some great torment. She ask'd him what posture his Wounds were in.
Ah Madam! repli'd he,
my wounds are not my greatest affliction. What is it then that troubles you, said she to him much frightned.
A misfor∣tune, says he,
incapable of any remedy. It was indeed, replies Eugenia,
a great misfortune to be so dangerously Wounded for a person you
neither knew, nor deserv'd you should hazard your Life for her; but this is not beyond remedy, since your Surgeons doubt not but you will soon recover it. And that is it I am to complain of, cries Don Garcias
: Had I lost my Life in your service, continued he,
I had brought it to a glo∣rious period, whereas I must now live against my will, and be a long time the most unfortunate man in the world. Being a person so excellently qualifi'd as you are, I think you not so unfortu∣nate as you would make your self, replies Eu∣genia.
How Madam, said he,
do you not ac∣count that man unfortunate, who being satisfi'd of your worth, having a greater esteem for you than any other whatever, loving you beyond his own Life, must nevertheless come short of deserving you, though Fortune should prove as indulgent to him as she hath ever been ma∣licious? You strangely surprize me, said she blushing:
but the obligations you have cast upon me, give you a priviledge, which, in the con∣dition I am in, I should not grant any other. I pray you above all things endeavour your own recovery, and assure your self, your misfortunes shall not continue long, when it shall come into the power of Eugenia
to put a period there∣to.
She stai'd not to hear what Reply he would make, and by that means spared him abundance of com∣plements, which haply he would but poorly have acquitted himself of, because he would have over∣strain'd himself to make them very good ones.
She call'd those Servants of hers who were to attend him, and went out of the room just as the Surgeons were coming in to visit him. The sa∣tisfaction of the mind is the soveraign remedy to recover a sick body. Don Garcias deriv'd such hopes of the advancement of his Love, from what Eugenia had said to him, that his soul, which be∣fore, as that of a Lover without hope, was ore∣press'd with sadness, dilated it self for the enter∣tainment of joy, and that joy contributed more to his recovery than all the remedies of Chirur∣gery. He came to perfect health. He out of civi∣lity went from Eugenia's house, but carried with him, and continu'd, the pretensions he had to her affection. She had promis'd to love him, provided he made no publick discoveries thereof, and it may be she lov'd him no less than he lov'd her: but having so lately lost a Husband, and been engag'd in adventures, which had made her the Table-talk of all Companies in Court and City, she thought it no prudence so soon to expose her self to rash censures, by running upon a marriage with too much precipitation. At last Don Garcias, by the excess of his merit and constancy, overcame all these difficulties. He was, as to his person, so ac∣complish'd, as might make a Rival run mad to think on't. He was a younger Brother of one of the best Houses of Arragon, and though he had done no great things in the Wars, he might justly, from the long services his Father had done Spain, derive some hopes of a recompence from the Court, as advantageous as honourable. EugeniaPage 183
could no longer hold out against so many excel∣lent qualities, nor be longer oblig'd to him for all he had done and suffered upon her account. She was married to him. Court and City approved her choice; and that she might not have the least occasion to repent her of it, it happened, that, not long after their marriage, the King of Spain be∣stowed on Don Garcias one of the Commande∣ries of St. James. Another thing which had already happened, was, that he had satisfied his dear Eu∣genia the very first night of their marriage, that he was much another Bed-fellow than Don Sancho, and that she had found in him, what she would not have met with in the Portuguez Andrado. Children they had many, because they took more than ordinary pains to get them; and the History of their Loves and Adventures is to this day rela∣ted at Vailladolid, not only among those that knew them, but to Strangers who occasionally Travel that way. For my part, I travelled not thither for it, but finding it Printed, made no doubt of the Truth of it, and expect the same con∣fidence in those who shall re∣ceive it from me.