She told me that his partiality was no secret to her, although he
had never disclosed it, but that she rejoiced at his absence, as it
would enable him to triumph over a passion she could _not return_.
Surprised at this declaration, I should have been wanting to myself
not to improve it. But love only can give an idea of those pleasures
we enjoyed in each other's company with reciprocal tenderness.
But _it_ affords few sweets that are not dashed with a mixture of
bitterness. Happy moments! how soon ye fled! a sad remembrance only of
that delightful interval left behind. Ah no, it is impossible I should
ever forget that day in which she first confessed those sentiments for
me my heart had long divined, the assurance of which, nevertheless,
gave me inexpressible transport. But when I reflected on my friend,
and that of my depressed circumstances, it gave a sudden check to
my joy. My sighs, my tears, made known to her the distress of my
heart! I could only utter the name of _my friend_, and wrung my hands
in despair. She soothed my uneasiness. "This is the fatal stroke I
feared" said the gentle Adelaude; "this is what my foreboding heart
presaged. But your interest does not interfere with his, for whom I
never experienced any thing more but that of a _sisterly affection_."
I then acquainted her with my dependent situation: that I should
be hurt at allying her so unsuitably, though had I had the wealth of
worlds it would have been hers. She told me her estate was sufficient
to enrich me: that the duke talked of leaving Rotterdam; she dreaded
being in the power of a man so impetuous, who would stick at nothing
to gratify his passions; and that she would place herself under my
protection. Infatuated I was, not to comply with her request! My
friend's woes wounded me to the quick: false honor determined me to
write and inform him of the state of the affair, previous to my
taking advantage of her inclination for me. I wrote instantly to the
marquis; but a few days after the duke set out for Italy with his
family. The night before their departure I saw the countess. "Thou
must go," said I, "and with thee all my joy, my happiness, my only
hope--Go, and take with thee all my heart holds dear, all that is
left for me is despair. Reason will resume its empire over love, and
you will forget a poor unfortunate, who hath nothing to offer but the
most pure and ardent affection; an affection in which consists all the
happiness of his life."
"Ah, my lord," said she, "forbear to speak a language so injurious
to your merit and my sentiments. Can I cease to love you? Can I forget
you? No! whilst my heart beats it will be yours, and yours only--I
will preserve myself for you, and nothing can ever make me forgetful
of the engagements I have made with you."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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