Emilia, rusticated to Andalusia to escape falling in love, gives her heart to Berinthus, whom she meets at a masquerade.  On her way to a second entertainment to meet her lover, her terror of a drunken cavalier induces her to accept the protection of the amorous Alonzo and paves the way for her ruin.  Berinthus turns out to be her brother Henriquez.  Alonzo, his friend, marries the lady as soon as her identity is discovered, and all parties are perfectly content.

Though the scene of “The Capricious Lover:  or, No Trifling with a Woman” is likewise laid in Spain, the atmosphere of the story is far different.

Montano, doubtful of Calista’s affection for him, feigns to break with her, and she, though really loving him, returns an indifferent answer and marries Gaspero out of pique.  The distracted lover thereupon falls upon his sword in the presence of the newly wedded couple, and the bride, touched by the spectacle of her lover’s devotion, languishes and dies in a few months.

There is little naturalness in the extravagant passion of the second story, but until sensationalism cloyed the public palate, realism was an unnecessary labor.  By placing the events in some romantic country like Spain, Portugal, Italy, or even France, any narrative of excessive love could be made to pass current.  The Latin countries were vaguely imagined by romantic novelists as a sort of remote but actual pays du Tendre where the most extraordinary actions might occur if only “love, soft love” were the motivating force.

A collection of select novels called “Love in its Variety,” advertised in 1727 as “Written in Spanish by Signior Michel Ban Dello; made English by Mrs. Eliza Haywood,” was apparently a translation from the novelle of Matteo Bandello, probably from a French version.[5] The best examples of her brief, direct tales, however, are to be found in “The Fruitless Enquiry.  Being a Collection of several Entertaining Histories and Occurrences, which Fell under the Observation of a Lady in her Search after Happiness” (1727).  Although the scene is laid in Venice, the model of this framework story was probably not the “Decameron” but the Oriental tales, known in England through French translations and imitations of the “Arabian Nights.”  Intercalated stories were not uncommon in French romances, but they were almost invariably introduced as life histories of the various characters.  A fantastic framework, with a hint of magic, fabricated expressly to give unity to a series of tales, half exemplary, half satirical, points directly to an ultimate connection with the narratives of Scheherezade and Sutlememe.  No attempt to catch the spirit of the East is discernible, but the vogue of Oriental tales was evidently beginning to make an impression on French and English writers of fiction.  Care for the moral welfare of her readers doubtless influenced Mrs. Haywood to assert in the dedication to Lady Elizabeth Germain that the following “Sheets ...contain the History of some real Facts,” and that the author’s chief design in publishing was to “persuade my Sex from seeking Happiness the wrong Way.”