The unfaithful _Portuguese_ serv’d _Elvira_ exactly to her Desires; and the very next day seeing _Agnes_ go out from the Princess, she carry’d _Constantia_ the Letter; which she took, and found there what she was far from imagining: Tenderness never produc’d an Effect more full of grief, than what it made her suffer. ‘Alas! they are both culpable, (said she, sighing) and in spite of the Defence my Heart would make for ’em, my Reason condemns ’em. Unhappy Princess, the sad subject of the Capriciousness of Fortune! Why dost not thou die, since thou hast not a Heart of Honour to revenge it self? O _Don Pedro_! why did you give me your Hand, without your Heart? And thou, fair, and ungrateful! wert thou born to be the Misfortune of my Life, and perhaps the only cause of my Death?’ After having given some Moments to the Violence of her Grief, she called the Maid, who brought her the Letter, commanding her to speak of it to no body, and to suffer no one to enter into her Chamber. She consider’d then of that Prince with more liberty, whose Soul she was not able to touch with the least Tenderness; and of the cruel Fair One that had betray’d her: Yet, even while her Soul was upon the Rack, she was willing to excuse ’em, and ready to do all she could for _Don Pedro_; at least, she made a firm Resolution, not to complain of him. _Elvira_ was not long without being inform’d of what had pass’d, nor of the Melancholy of the Princess, from whom she hop’d all she desir’d. _Agnes_, far from foreseeing this Tempest, return’d to _Constantia_; and hearing of her Indisposition, pass’d the rest of the Day at her Chamber-door, that she might from time to time learn news of her Health: for she was not suffer’d to come in, at which _Agnes_ was both surpriz’d and troubled. The Prince had the same Destiny, and was astonish’d at an Order which ought to have excepted him.