Oh thou divinest softness! cried he, be assured I will put nothing to the venture that might take me from Louisa!—­Your kindness, my angel, has shewed me the value of life, and almost made a coward of your lover:—­no farther will I go than the duties of my post oblige me, and that honour, which to forfeit, would render me unworthy of your care.

Louisa now found herself so much at ease, in having discovered a secret she had so long laboured with, and suffered an infinity of pain in the concealing of, that nothing could be more chearful than her looks and behaviour.  He, on the other hand, was all rapture, yet did it not make him in the least forgetful of the rules he had prescribed himself, or give her modesty any room to repent the confession she had made in favour of his passion:—­the conversation between them was all made up of innocence and love; and every hour they passed together, rendered them still dearer to each other.

Monsieur du Plessis having thus gained the point his soul was let on, began to consider in what part of Italy it would be best to place his dear Louisa:  as Bolognia was a free country, under the jurisdiction of the Pope, he thought she would there be the least subject to alarms, on account of the army’s continual marches and countermarches thro’ most other parts of Italy.  He therefore got a post-chaise, and by easy journeys conducted her thither; and having made an agreement with the lady abbess of the Augustines, she was welcomed into the convent by the holy sisterhood with all imaginable good-nature and politeness.

It would be endless to recite the farewels of these equally sincere, and passionate lovers; so I shall only say that never any parting was more truly touching; and the grief, which both of them endured, was only alleviated by the confidence they had in each other’s affection, and the mutual promises of communicating the assurances of persevering in it, by letters as often as opportunity would permit.

Melanthe being recovered of the indisposition of her body, tho’ not of her mind, was informed of every particular of her perfidious lover’s conduct as he had quitted Venice before she did her chamber, was obliged to bear the load of discontent her too easy belief had brought upon her, without even the poor ease of venting it in reproaches on him.  The carnival soon after ending, and finding that change of place was no defence from misfortunes of the kind she had sustained, without she could also change her way of thinking, took the first convenience that offered, and returned to England, rather in worse humour than she had left it.

CHAP.  XVII.

Horatio arrives at Warsaw, sees the coronation of Stanislaus and his queen:  his reception from the king of Sweden:  his promotion:  follows that prince in all his conquests thro’ Poland, Lithuania and Saxony.  The story of count Patkul and madame de Eusilden.