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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAP. IX.

_A second separation between Horatio and Charlotta, with some other occurrences_.

The season of the year now having put an end to the campaign, and the French, as well as confederate armies, being retired into their winter quarters, the baron de la Valiere, who had always a special permission from the general, returned to Paris: Horatio promised himself much satisfaction in the renewed society of this friend, and no sooner heard he was on the road than he went to meet him. The baron, charm'd with this proof of his affection and respect, received him as a brother, and there was little less freedom used between them.

After the mutual testimonies and good-will were over de la Valiere began to ask him concerning mademoiselle Charlotta; on which Horatio acquainted him with her being removed from St. Germains, and the occasion of it, not omitting the arrogance with which old monsieur de Coigney had behaved to her father, and the resentment now between the families.

Well, said the baron, but I hope you have been more successful, at least with the young lady: I will never more trust the intelligence of eyes, if yours did not hold a very tender intercourse; and I protest to you, my dear Horatio, that amidst all the toils and dangers of war, my thoughts were often at St. Germains, not envying, but congratulating the pleasures you enjoyed in the conversation of that amiable lady.

I doubt not, replied Horatio with a smile, but we had you with us at a place which contained mademoiselle de Coigney; and I am of opinion too she was no less frequently in the camp with you; for in spite of all the reserve she affected while you were present, she never heard the bare mention of your name without emotions, which were very visible in her countenance.

I would not be vain, replied the baron, but I sometimes have flattered myself with the hope I was not altogether indifferent to her; tho' for two whole years that I have constantly made my addresses to her, I never could obtain one soft confession to a.s.sure my happiness:--but let me know how you have proceeded on the score of mademoiselle Charlotta?

believe me, I am not so engrossed by my own affairs, as not to give attention to those of a friend.

Horatio, who had been engaged by Charlotta to preserve an inviolable secrecy in every thing that had pa.s.sed between them, without any exception of persons, would fain have turned the conversation on some other topic: he truly loved the baron, had the highest opinion of his discretion, and would have trusted him with the dearest secrets of his life, provided they related to himself alone; but he had given his word, his oath, his honour to Charlotta, and durst not violate them on any consideration; yet, loth to refuse or to deceive his friend, he found himself in the most perplexing dilemma. As often as the other spoke of Charlotta, he answered with something of de Coigney; but all his artifice was ineffectual, and the baron at last saw thro' it, and a.s.suming a very grave countenance, I perceive, Horatio, said he, you do not think me worthy your confidence, and I was to blame to press you to reveal what you resolve to make a mystery of.

These words made a very deep impression on the grateful soul of him they were addressed to; and equally distressed between the necessity of either disobliging a person whose generosity he had experienced, or falsifying the promise he had made to Charlotta, at last an expedient offered to his mind how to avoid both, and yet not be guilty of injuring the truth.

Alas! my lord, answered he, you little know the heart of Horatio, if you imagine there be any thing there that would hide itself from you:--I freely confess, the charms of mademoiselle Charlotta had such an effect on me, that, had I been in circ.u.mstances which in the least could have flattered me with success, I should long ago have avowed myself her lover: but when I reflected on the disparity between us, the humour of her father, and a thousand other impediments, I endeavoured to banish so hopeless a pa.s.sion from my breast, and was the more confirmed in my resolution to do so by the ill treatment monsieur de Coigney received:--besides, her removal from St. Germains, depriving me in a great measure of those opportunities I had before of entertaining her, might very well contribute to wean off a pa.s.sion, not settled either by time or expectation, of ever being gratified; and I hope, continued he, I shall always have so much command over myself as not to become ridiculous by aiming at impossibilities.

Whether the baron gave any credit to what he said on this account or not, he had too much politeness to press him any farther; and the discourse soon after taking another turn, Horatio was very well pleased to think he had got off so well.

De la Valiere having related to him some particulars of the late campaign, which the public accounts had been deficient in, they pa.s.sed from that to some talk of the brave young king of Sweden, a topic which filled all Europe with admiration: but the French being a people in whom the love of glory is the predominant pa.s.sion, were more than any other nation charmed with the greatness of that prince's soul.

What indeed has any hero of antiquity to boast of in compet.i.tion with this northern monarch, who conquered and gave away kingdoms for the benefit of others, disdaining to receive any other reward for all his vast fatigues, than the pleasure of giving a people that person whom he judged most worthy to reign over them!

The baron, who had attended the Count de Guiscard when he was residentiary amba.s.sador from his most christian majesty at the Swedish court, had an opportunity of seeing more of this monarch than any other that Horatio was acquainted with; he therefore, on his requesting it, informed him how, at the age of eighteen, he threw off all magnificence, forsook the pomp and delicacies of a court he had been bred in, and undertook, and compleated the delivery of his brother-in-law, the duke of Holstein, from the cruel incursions of the Danes, who had well nigh either taken or ravaged the greatest part of his territories. He also set forth, in its proper colours, the base part which Peter Alexowitz, czar of Muscovy, and Augustus, king of Poland, acted against a prince who was then employing his arms in the cause of justice; the latter of these bringing a powerful army to take from him one part of his dominions; and the former, at the head of an 100,000 men, were plundering the other: but when he concluded his little narrative, by reciting how this young conqueror, with a handful of brave Swedes, animated by the example of their king, put entirely to route all that opposed him, Horatio felt his soul glow with an ardour superior even to that of love: he longed to behold a prince who seemed to have all the virtues comprized in him, and whose very thoughts, as well as actions, might be looked upon as super-natural.

He is, however, greatly to be pitied, said the baron de la Valiere, that the wars he is engaged in, and which, in all probability will be of long continuance, hinders him from the possession of the most amiable princess in the world, and I dare answer, at least if I may credit those about her, she wishes he were of a less martial disposition.

He will be the more worthy of her, cried Horatio interrupting him, and the immortal fame of his actions be a sufficient attonement for all the years of expectation that may be its purchase.

From the time Horatio had this discourse with the baron, the king of Sweden was ever uppermost in his thoughts: he had always reflected that, in the station he then was, it would be impossible to obtain any more of mademoiselle Charlotta than her heart, at least while the baron de Palfoy lived, and that a thousand accidents might deprive him of all hopes of ever being more happy; but, said he to himself, were I among the number of those who attend this hero in his martial exploits, I might at least have an opportunity of proving how far fortune would befriend me;--who knows but I might be able to do something which might engage that just and generous monarch to raise me to a degree capable of avowing my pretensions even to her father, and the same blessed day that joined our princ.i.p.als, might also make me blessed in the possession of my dear Charlotta.

With these ideas did he often flatter himself; but the manner in which he should accomplish his desires was yet doubtless to him. The chevalier St. George treated him with so much kindness, that he had no room to doubt his having a great share in his favour; and was fully perswaded, that if he communicated his intentions to him, he would vouchsafe to give him letters of recommendation to a prince who was to be his brother-in-law: but this he feared to ask, lest it should be looked upon as ingrat.i.tude in him to desire to leave a court where he had been so graciously received, and had many favours, besides the perquisites of his post, heaped upon him, not only by the chevalier himself, but also by the queen and princess, who, following the example of the late king, behaved with a kind of natural affection to all the English.

He sometimes communicated his sentiments on this head to mademoiselle Charlotta, who was too discreet not to allow the justness of them; and well knew, that in the station her lover now was, they never could be on any terms with each other than those they were at present: her reason, therefore, and the advantage of her love, made her sometimes wish he would follow the dictates of so laudable an ambition; but then the dangers he must inevitably be exposed to in following a monarch who never set any bounds to his courage, and the thoughts how long it might possibly be before she saw him again, alarmed all her tenderness; and he had the satisfaction of seeing the tears stand in her eyes whenever they had any discourse of this nature; and tho' her words a.s.sured him that it was her opinion he could not take a more ready way to raise his own fortune, yet her looks at the same time made him plainly see how much she would suffer in his taking that step.

Many reasons, both for and against following his inclination in this point, presented themselves to him; and he had no sooner, as he thought, determined for the one, than the other rose with double vehemence and overthrew the former. In this fluctuating situation of mind did he remain for some time, and perhaps had done so much longer, had not an accident happened which proved decisive, and indeed left him no other party to take than that he afterwards did.

Charlotta, being now entirely mistress of herself, gave him frequent meetings in the Tuilleries, judging it safer to converse with him there than at the house of any person, whom, in such a case, must be the confidante of the whole affair; whereas, if they were seen together in the walks, it might be judged they met by accident, and not give any grounds of suspicion, which hitherto they had been so fortunate as to avoid.

It was in one of those appointments, when entered into a very tender conversation, they forgot themselves so far as to suffer the moon to rise upon them: the stillness of the evening, and the little company which happened to be there that night, seemed to indulge their inclinations of continuing in so sweet a recess:--they were seated on a bench at the foot of a large tree, when Charlotta, in answer to some tender professions he had been making, said, depend on this, Horatio, that as you are the first who has ever been capable of making me sensible of love, so nothing shall have power to change my sentiments while you continue to deserve, or to desire I should think of you as I now do. He shall not long continue to desire it,--cried a voice behind them, and immediately rushed from the other side of the thicket a man with his sword drawn, and ran full upon Horatio, who not having time to be upon his guard, had certainly fallen a victim to his rival's fury, had not a gentleman seized his arm, and, by superior strength, forced him some paces back.--Are you mad, monsieur, said he; do you forget the place you are in, or the danger you so lately escaped for an enterprize of this nature?

Mademoiselle Charlotta, now a little recovered from her first, surprize, and knowing it was young monsieur de Coigney who had given her this alarm, had presence enough of mind to ask how he dared, after he knew her own and father's resolution, to disturb her, or any company she had with her? he made no reply, but reflecting that there were other ways than fighting, by which he might be revenged, went hastily away with that friend who had hindered him from executing his rash purpose; but they could hear that he muttered something which seemed a menace against them both.

How impossible is it to express the consternation our lovers now were in: they found by the repet.i.tion monsieur de Coigney made of the words she spoke, that what they had so long and so successfully laboured to conceal, was now betrayed:--betrayed to one who would not fail to make the most malicious use of the discovery, and doubted not but the affair would become the general talk, perhaps to the prejudice of Charlotta's reputation; but the least thing either could expect, was to be separated for ever.

Horatio, full of disturbed emotions, conducted his disconsolate mistress to the gate of the Tuilleries, and there took a farewel of her, which he had too much reason to fear would be his last, at least for a long time.

He was tempted by his first emotions to seek de Coigney, and call him to account for the affront he had put upon him, and either lose his own life, or oblige the other to secrecy; but then he considered, that there was some probability he would not dare to own that he had given himself any concern about mademoiselle Charlotta, after the injunction laid on him by his father, much less as he had attempted a duel in her cause, having, as has been already mentioned, been before guilty of a like offence against the laws, which in that country are very strict, on account of madame de Olonne; and this prevailed with him to be pa.s.sive as to what had happened, till he should hear how the other would behave, and find what turn the affair would take.

Charlotta in the mean time was in the most terrible anxieties:--she could not imagine what had brought monsieur de Coigney, who she thought had been many miles distant, so suddenly to Paris: but on making some private enquiry, she was informed, that having met some difficulty in the execution of his office, he had taken post, in order to lay his complaints before the king, and had arrived that very day.--She now blamed her own inadvertency in holding any discourse with Horatio, of a nature not proper to be over-heard, in a place so public as the Tuilleries, where others, as well as he, might have possibly been witnesses of what was said.

Young monsieur de Coigney suffered little less from the turbulence of his nature, and the mortification it gave his vanity, to find a person, whom he looked upon as every way his inferior, preferred to him. His thoughts were wholly bent on revenge; but in what manner he should accomplish it, he was for some time uncertain: when he acquainted his father with the discovery he had made, and the resentment he had testified against this unworthy rival, as he called him, the old gentleman blamed him for taking any notice of it. Let them love on, son, said he; let them marry;--we shall then have a fine opportunity of reproaching the haughty baron with his new alliance. This did not however satisfy monsieur de Coigney: all the love he once had for mademoiselle Charlotta was now turned into hate; and in spite of his father's commands not to meddle in the affair, he could not help throwing out some reflections among his companions, very much to the disadvantage of the young lady's reputation. But these might possibly have blown over, as he had but a small time to vent his malice. His father knowing the violence of his temper, in order to prevent any ill consequences, compelled him to return to his employment; taking upon himself the management of that business which had brought him so unluckily to Paris.

But mademoiselle de Coigney had no sooner been informed by her brother of the discovery he had made, than she doubted not that it was on the score of Horatio that he had met with such ill success in his courtship; and also imagined, that it had been owing to some ill impressions mademoiselle Charlotta had given the baron de Palfoy, that her father had been treated by him in the manner already recited. She complained of it to the baron de la Valiere, and told him, her whole family had been affronted, and her brother rendered miserable, for the sake of a young man, who, said she, can neither have birth or fortune to boast of, since he has been so long a prisoner without any ransom paid, or interposition offered to redeem him.

The baron was too generous not to vindicate the merits of Horatio, as much as was consistent with his love and complaisance for his mistress: he was notwithstanding very much picqued in his mind that a person, to whom he had given the greatest proofs of a sincere and disinterested friendship, should have concealed a secret of this nature from him, and the more so, as he had seemed to expect and desire his confidence. From this time forward he behaved to him with a coldness which was sufficient to convince the other of the motive, especially as he found mademoiselle de Coigney took all opportunities of throwing the most picquant reflections on him. It is certain that lady was so full of spight at the indignity she thought her family had received, that she could not help whispering the attachment of Horatio and Charlotta, not only at St.

Germains, but at Paris also, with inunendo's little less cruel than those her brother had made use of to his companions; so that between them, the amour was talked of among all who were acquainted with either of them.

At length the report reached the ears of the baron de Palfoy, who, tho'

he did not immediately give an entire credit to it, thought it became him to do every thing in his power to silence it.

Accordingly he called his daughter to him one day, and having told her the liberty which the world took in censuring her conduct on Horatio's account, commanded her to avoid all occasions of it for the future, by seeing him no more.

The confusion she was in, and which she had not artifice wholly to conceal from the penetrating baron, more convinced him, than all he had been told, that there was in reality some tender intercourse between them; but resolving to be fully ascertained, he said no more to her at that time, but dispatched a messenger immediately to St. Germains, desiring Horatio to come to him the same day.

The lover readily obeyed this summons, but not without some apprehensions of the motive: the hints daily given him, joined to the alteration, not only in the behaviour of mademoiselle de Coigney, but likewise of the baron de la Valiere, gave him but too just room to fear his pa.s.sion was no longer a secret.

The father of Charlotta received him with great courtesy, but nothing of that pleasantness with which he had looked on him ever since he had defended him from the robbers. Horatio, said he, I am indebted to you for my life, and would willingly make what recompence is in my power for the obligation I have to you:--think therefore what I can do for you; and if your demands exceed not what is fit for you to ask, or would become me to grant, you may be a.s.sured of my compliance.

The astonishment Horatio was in at these words is impossible to be expressed; but having an admirable presence of mind, my lord, answered he, I should be unworthy of the favours you do me, could I be capable of presuming on them so far as to make any requests beyond the continuance of them.

No, Horatio, resumed the baron, I acknowledge my grat.i.tude has been too deficient, since it has extended only to those civilities which are due to your merit, exclusive of any obligation; the conversation we have had together has. .h.i.therto afforded a pleasure to myself, and it is with a good deal of mortification I now find a necessity to break it off:--I would therefore have the satisfaction of doing something that might convince you of my esteem, at the same time that I desire you to refrain your visits.

Not all Horatio's courage could enable him to stand this shock, without testifying some part of what pa.s.sed in his mind:--he was utterly incapable of making any reply, tho' the silence of the other shewed he expected it, but stood like one confounded, and conscious of deserving the banishment he heard p.r.o.nounced against him.--At last recollecting himself a little,--my lord, said he, I see not how I can be happy enough to preserve any part of your esteem, since looked upon as unworthy an honour you were once pleased to confer upon me.