“In Anxieties, such as hopeless Lovers feel, did the discontented Anadea pass the Night:—­She could not avoid wishing, though there was not the least Room for her to imagine a Possibility of what she wish’d:—­She could not help praying, yet thought those Prayers a Sin.  —­Her once calm and peaceful Bosom was now all Hurry and Confusion:—­ The Esteem which she had been long labouring to feel for the Chevalier, was now turn’d to Aversion and Disdain; and the Indifference she had for all Mankind, now converted into the most violent Passion for one ...she thought she could be contended to live a single Life, and knew so little of the encroaching Nature of the Passion she had entertained, that she believed she should never languish for any greater Joy, than that she might, without a Crime, indulge Contemplation with the Idea of his Perfections; and to destroy that pleasing Theory by marrying with another ...was more terrible to her than the worst of Deaths.—­Confounded what to do, or rather wild that there was nothing she could do that might be of Service to her in an Exigence like this, her Mind grew all a Chaos, and the unintermitting Inquietudes of her Soul not permitting any Repose, she ...had a very good Pretence to keep her Chamber, and receive no Visits.”

She passes the day in tormenting perplexities, sometimes relieved by intervals of unsubstantial joy, when she fancies that her affianced may break off the match for some reason, that his sickness, an accident, or death may leave her free to wed Blessure.  In imagination she pictures to herself happy meetings with her lover, and even repeats their conversation.  Then recollecting her true situation, she lapses into real woe and bitterness of heart.  The Count, however, has been deeply affected by her charms, and though he learns that she is engaged to De Semar, he sends her an appealing letter to discover whether the match is the result of choice or duty.  Upon the receipt of this billet the soul of Anadea is distracted between the impulses of love and the dictates of prudence.  Finally she writes a discreet, but not too severe reply, intimating that her choice is due more to duty than to inclination.  Naturally the Count protests vehemently against her sacrificing herself to a man for whom she cares nothing, vows that the day of her wedding with De Semar shall be his last upon earth, and entreats a meeting.

“What now became of the enamour’d Anadea?  How was it possible for a Heart so prepossessed as hers, to hold out in a Reserve which was very near breaking the Strings which held it—...  Yet still the Consequences that might attend this Meeting, for a Time repelled the Dictates of her Passion.—­But it was no more than a faint Struggle; Love! all-conquering, all-o’er-powering Love! triumphed over every other Consideration! and she consented to his and her own impatient Wishes.”

Under the pretence of a change of air she goes to