From this time there was nothing but pleasures and intrigues from morning till night between the two ladies and the happy gardener. Claricia and Laida their confidants were expert girls, who served them with as much address as zeal. Ambrosio on his side acquitted himself so skilfully towards both his mistresses, that they were both well satisfied. Never was any affair better conducted. Elvira disclosed all the feelings of her heart to her friend, and Daraxa was prudent enough not to communicate what she felt in return. These rivals had each their particular hiding place in the garden; love letters flew to and fro; there was a perfect post of gallantry established; and if their communication had gone no further, ought they not to have been well satisfied with so agreeable a life? But if love be sufficiently gratified when ’tis only in fair way of succeeding, it immediately ceases to be love. That passion soon grows tired of the same pleasures too often repeated; it looks for variety. The impatient Elvira longed for an interview, and in her next letter desired Don Jaymé to meet them that night at the window of the lower gallery, of which Claricia would get the key. Although Daraxa did not altogether approve of this nocturnal meeting, she had not sufficient resolution to object to it. Ambrosio lodged in the gardener’s house at the bottom of the garden, the door of which was always closed at midnight by order of Don Lewis, and remained shut until the hour for returning to work the next morning: this, however, was but a trifling impediment to our lover, who soon made a ladder of small cords, by means of which he could descend from his chamber into the garden, and re-ascend at his pleasure. In his answer therefore, he assured the ladies that he would not fail to be at the appointed spot the next night. With what impatience did they await that moment; and when it arrived, how delighted were they to be able to converse with their dear Ambrosio. Elvira gave way to the impetuosity of her feelings, without restraint; and Daraxa’s, though more restrained, were not in reality less violent. The windows of the gallery were very low, and the iron bars were at a sufficient distance apart to admit an arm between them. The amorous Elvira, emboldened by the darkness of the night, put her hands through the bars for Ozmin to kiss, to the heart’s regret of Daraxa. Ozmin, who well knew the delicate feelings of his country-woman on this point, took every opportunity of mitigating the pain that he knew she must feel on the occasion, by every endearment he could bestow on her unperceived by her friend; this interview, therefore, was the cause of more anxiety than gratification to Daraxa, who, though she possessed her lover’s heart, thought herself much to be pitied; when, on the contrary, her friend, though not loved by Ozmin as she imagined, felt herself truly happy. The one, ignorant of her happiness, was unhappy; while the other, who knew not how unfortunate