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A COLLECTION Of Pleaſant Modern NOVELS. Vol. II. VIZ.

  • Heroine Muſqueteer: Or Female Warrier, in ofur Parts.
  • Incognito: Or Love and Duty Reconciled. By Mr. Congrave,
  • The Pilgrim, in two Parts.

LONDON, Printed for Jacob Tonſon, at Grays-Inn-Gate, and Richard Wellington, at the Dolphin and Crown at the Weſt-end of St. Pauls Church-yard: E. Rumbole, at the Poſt-houſe, Covent-Garden, and J. Wild, at the Elephant, at Charing-Croſs. MDCC.

THE Heroine Muſqueteer: OR, THE Female Warriour. A TRUE HISTORY. Very delightful, and full of Pleaſant Adventures in the Compaignes of 1676, and 1677.

Tranſlated out of French.

LONDON, Printed by James Orme, for Richard Wellington, at the Dalphin and Crown, at the Weſt-end of St. Paul's Church-Yard. MDCC.


THE Heroine Muſqueteer: OR, THE Female Warriour.

BEARN, though one of the leaſt Pro­vinces ſubject to the Crown of France, may be accounted among the moſt conſiderable, for the great number of Soldiers it ſends into the Armies. It hath the honour of giving Birth to the Renowned Prince, Henry the Great, and the Privileges he granted it are ſufficient proof of the eſteem he had for the Inhabi­tants. And thoſe who now ſerve the King in his Wars, have made it appear they have not degenerated from the vertues of their Anceſtors. Beſides, as if it were not enough for this Province to produce Heroes in an Age, when all parts of France furniſh ſuch plenty of them, it hath ſignaliz'd it ſelf in giving Birth to a Heroine, who ſeems to have2 forgot the infirmities of her Sex, to aſſume the vigour and generoſity of the Maſculine, without loſing the beauty and ſweetneſs of her own, and to compoſe of both, the moſt perfect Perſon in the Univerſe.

Her Name is Chriſtina, Daughter to the Baron of Meyrac, one of the moſt eminent of the Province, though leſs known at Court than in his Country, where he ſpent all his days. He had an only Son brought up at the College of Pau, whom he deſign'd to ſend timely to Paris to learn his exerciſes, the better to fit him for the King's ſervice, in the Armies where he intended to provide him employment. Chriſtina was bred at home with her Parents as their darling: ſhe naturally had that ſtrong inclination for Arms, ſhe knew ſooner how to diſcharge a Gun, than to handle a Diſtaff; and at nine years old could handle and uſe all ſorts of Fire-arms with incredible dexterity. She was extreamly averſe from Learning to read, and to perſwade her now and then to look on a Book, they were obli­ged to permit her to go a-hunting twice a week; but to purchaſe a pound of Pouder ſhe would do any thing, how difficult ſoever. This for a time was a divertiſement to her Parents; till Chriſtina having one day ſhot at Pidgeons in a Barn full of Corn, it unfor­tunately took fire, which conſum'd a great part of it, though a great many hands were pre­ſently at work to quench it. At this the Baron was ſo offended with his Daughter, that he would not ſee her for many days, nor3 pardon her, but upon condition ſhe would never handle a Gun. Poor Chriſtina was very glad to be re-admitted upon any terms into the favour of a Father, ſo ſevere as ſhe knew hers to be: but that way of living being quite againſt her temper, a week was ſcarce paſt, but there appear'd a viſible alteration in her looks. This alarm'd her Mother, who tenderly lov'd her, and having often, but in vain, endeavour'd to prevail with her Husband in favour of his Daughter, to remit a little of the rigour of his orders; ſhe order'd a Gun to be carried to a Neighbour's, where Chriſtina, by agreement with her Mother, ſometimes reſorted: And not daring to go a-Hunting, leaſt the Father ſhould know it, ſhe ſhot at a mark for her exerciſe. This reſtrant but heightened her paſſion for Hunt­ing and Shooting, as ſhe made ſufficiently appear by the advantages ſhe took of her Father's abſence, in a Journey about that time.

The Baron in the Vacations ſent for his Son home; and Hunting being the principal Re­creation of Country-Gentlemen, ſcarce a day paſt, but his Son made a match with his Friends for that ſport: He never went forth, but Chriſtina was cruelly vext, ſhe could not make one of the Game; and when he re­turn'd, ſhe was not leſs troubled for the plea­ſure ſhe fanſied he had enjoy'd, and ſhe was un­juſtly debarr'd from, and ſeeing her Brother come every day home laden with Game that he had taken, ſhe could not forbear tormenting4 herſelf for fear he would leave none for her.

One day, as the Baron and his Son were a-Hunting, a Farmer came to the Caſtle to make his complaint of the great ſpoil done in his Corn by a wild Boar, and to beg aſ­ſiſtance for killing him. The Baroneſs being aſſur'd the Boar never fail'd coming to the Corn in the Twilight, promis'd to take order in it, and diſmiſs'd the Countryman. Chriſtina having over-heard the diſcourſe, ſaid not a word to her Mother, leaſt ſhe might endeavour to divert her from her deſign; but charg'd her Gun with two bullets, and as it began to be dark, went away to the place the Country-Man had ſpoken of; and to make the ſurer work, got up into a Tree a little diſtant from the Corn, with a reſolution to wait there the coming of the Boar. The ſame Country-man having met the Baron's Son as he return'd from Hunt­ing, told him the ſtory, who loth to loſe ſo fair an occaſion, inſtantly turn'd back into the Field, and fearing he was come too late, ſtole gently a-croſs the Corn, and attended the Boar's coming near half an hour: But growing impatient of longer ſtay, he reſol­ved to retire. His Siſter in the Tree, not well able to diſcern what ſhe imagin'd ſhe ſaw, the Corn being high and night come on, made no doubt but it was the boar ſtirring up and down; and to loſe no time diſ­charg'd her Gun, and kill'd her Brother. As he fell he cry'd out for help, which ſo troubled5 the unfortunate Chriſtina, that ſhe preſently fell down from the top of the Tree. The Country-man runing in at the noiſe of the Gun, immediately met Chriſtina tearing her ſelf like a Woman diſtracted, and thought the Boar had wounded her: He ask'd her ſeveral que­ſtions, which ſhe anſwer'd not, but he took her up, and help'd her to walk a few ſteps. When ſhe found her ſelf in a condition to go alone, ſhe order'd him to make all the haſt in his power to let the Baron know his Son lay a-dying, having been danger­ouſly wounded by the Boar; with that ſhe made away as faſt as ſhe could poſſibly, not knowing whither to betake her ſelf. Hav­ing travell'd above an hour ſhe found her ſelf near a Caſtle belonging to the Abbot Dizeſte, who was extreamly ſurprized to ſee her ſo bloated with crying, and at that time of the night. But Chriſtina, having given him as good an account of her misfortune as ſhe could in the caſe ſhe was in, the Abbot who was her fathers very near Kinſman, inſtantly got on Horſe-back, and arriv'd at the Caſtle, the very moment they brought in the Body of the poor Gentleman, who having loſt much blood for want of help, dy'd in the Arms of the Chirurgeon who firſt dreſt him. All things in the Caſtle were in ſuch a confuſion, the Abbot could not learn tne truth of the acci­dent. The people would needs believe the Boar had kill'd the Gentleman, though they found two bullets in his body: But the Baron and his Lady, not finding Chriſtina, made no6 doubt but it was her act; and though they believ'd ſhe had don't by misfortune, the Baron was ſo tranſported with paſſion, for the loſs of his Son, that he made ſearch for his Daughter all over the Town, with his Piſtol in his hand, to ſacrifice her to his Wrath. The Abbot being told of it, ran after him, and having ſaid to him all that might be expected on ſuch an occaſion, he brought him back to the Caſtle, where he made uſe of many tedious diſcourſes to comfort him, but all to no purpoſe. Two Capuchins came in at the noiſe of the diſaſter; and the Abbot having left them the care of comforting of the Baron, return'd home to bring Chriſtina the news of her Brothers Death, and the dan­ger ſhe was in, if her Father ſhould diſcover where ſhe was; yet he aſſured her of his pro­tection, and that he would never forſake her.

Returning two days after to Meyrac, he was not a little ſurpriz'd to find the Capuchins exhortations had not abated in the leaſt the grief of the Baron, nor diminiſh'd his anger, but that he perſiſted in his reſolution to be the death of his Daughter, and would not admit of his Wife into his preſence, becauſe ſhe had been prevailed upon to ſpeak to him a word or two, in favour of the unfortunate Chriſtina. This oblig'd the Abbot to hold a conference with two or three Kinſmen more of the Barons, and to debate the buſineſs with them, and find out ſome means to ſave her from her Father's reſentment. After7 long diſcourſe, it was agreed ſhe ſhould be ſent into Spain; and Arragon being not above nine or ten Leagues from Bearn, and the Abbot having a Brother ſettled at Sara­goſa many years, he was intreated to bear her company thither, and recommend her to his Brother, which he readly promis'd. Chri­ſtina, troubled as ſhe was, receiv'd with joy the reſult of this conference, and put her ſelf in a poſture to be gone on the morrow, according to order: but the Abbot having reflected in the night on the conſequences of the intended Journey, found in it ſo many difficulties, that he had almoſt alter'd his re­ſolution by morning. He foreſaw the beauty of Chriſtina would make a great noiſe in a ſtrange Country, being at twelve years old far taller and handſomer than Maids of that Age ordinarily are, and eſpecially in Spain, were the Women are generally very low: be­ſides, he apprehended the frank humour of his Kinſ-woman, and the inclinations ſhe had ſo different from the reſt of her Sex, would hardly ever agree with the Genius of a Na­tion, where Women are oblig'd to live with a great deal of circumſpection, and that it might prove very troubleſom to his Brother. But the buſineſs was urgent, and he muſt reſolve: Chriſtina perceiving him waver, ask'd him the reaſon; he acquainted her with the difficulties he apprehended, and added, It was not decent or fit a young Maid ſhould run rambling into a ſtrange Country. Chriſtina longing to get out of her Father's reach,8 whom ſhe fear'd, and having a paſſionate de­ſire to ſee Spain, propos'd to the Abbot, that if he would give her leave, ſhe would put on Boys Cloaths: And that ſhe might have a plauſible pretence for ſtaying in Spain, he need no more but tell his Brother he brought him a young Kinſ-man to learn Spaniſh, and ſtudy ſome Months in the Univerſity of Saragoſa. The Abbot at firſt boggled at the propoſal as ridiculous and childiſh. But finding her perſiſt in it, and promiſing ſhe would ſo diſguiſe her ſelf they ſhould never diſcover her Sex, he was perſwaded by her. And having cauſed her to be privately put into a habit ſutable to her inclinations, he thought ſhe became it ſo well, that he made no more ſcruples, but parted the next day with her for Saragoſa. Being arrived there, they were receiv'd by his Brother with incredible joy and abundance of thanks, that he would truſt him with the Education of a Kinſ-man of ſo promiſing a meen. The Abbot returned, and Don Lorenzo his Brother, took pleaſure in making proviſion of neceſſaries for his young Kinſ-man. Scholars in Spain wear long, looſe, black Veſts like the Jeſuits; a Habit that ſerved very well to make Chriſtina look taller and handſomer, and her Hair being of a delicate-brown, and cut after the Spaniſh-mode, had an admirable effect upon the be­holders. She no ſooner appear'd in the Uni­verſity, but ſhe drew after her the Eyes and the Hearts of the Students. It is incredible what an advantage this was to the French Nation;9 for Spain being a Country inconvenient for Travellers, few Perſons of Quality go thi­ther. And they ſeldom have amongſt them any French, unleſs it be ſome poor Labourers of the Mountains of Auvergne, Limoſin, and Bigorre, who for very ſmall wagers do all manner of Drudgery. And the Spaniards, who are na­turally lazy, are willing to imploy French-men who ſerve them for money. This is the reaſon the People of thoſe Countries, who ſeldom travel abroad, ſlight the French, as they do, judging of the whole Nation by thoſe they ſee amongſt them. This general prejudice heightened their aſtoniſhment, who admir'd the beauty of Chriſtina, and call'd her The Handſom Frenchman. Everyone one ſtrove to be acquainted with the Stranger; and her Reputation was in a short time ſo well ſettled at Saragoſa, that thoſe of the beſt Quality there order'd their Children, to get acquain­tance with the young Frenchman, and to make him their Friend.

The Marqueſs d'Oſſeyra then a Student there, went every morning to take him with him in his Coach to the Univerſity, and Don Philip de Palafox, Son to the Marqueſs d' Arizza, brought him back for the moſt part in his. He viſited theſe two young Lords oftner than any other, eſpecially the Marqueſs d' Oſſeyra, who took pleaſure to teach him Spaniſh, and tell him when he ſpoke amiſs. This Gentleman had a Siſter married to the Marqueſs d' Aytona; who having heard an excellent Report of the handſome Frenchman, deſired her Brother to10 bring him with him to her Houſe, propoſing to her ſelf the pleaſure to be expected from the Converſation of two young Lads of their Age. But ſhe found it more charming, and was ſo ſatisfied with the firſt Viſit, that ſhe pray'd her Brother to bring him often to her; being extreamly delighted to ſee him and hear him ſpeak. To engage him to come again, ſhe preſented him with a Sword, and her Bro­ther with another; which they carried com­monly under their Gowns, as the Scholars in Spain uſually do. This Preſent was fatal to them both: For as they were going home­wards one Evening very late, they met other Scholars who knew the Handſome French-man, and could not forbear (out of a Natural antipathy againſt the French) to give him ill-language and call him French-bougre. The Marqueſs d'Oſſeyra, thinking himſelf concern'd in their ill-uſage and incivility, and not daun­ted with the number of his Enemies, charged them vigorouſly with his Sword in his hand. The Handſome-Frenchman ſeconded him ſo well, that they two beat back five Men above thirty paces: till putting on two far, they were at laſt forc'd to give Ground, oppreſt with numbers of freſh aſſailants. The Marqueſs had a ſlight wound on the Face; and the Handſome-Frenchman receiv'd a cut upon the Belly. Some Tradeſmen get­ting out of their Shops, the Marqueſs diſ­covered himſelf, and the Scholars took their a heels to avoid the punishment their inſolence deſerv'd. The wounded Perſons were car­ried11 home to the Marchioneſs d'Oſſeyra's, who was ſo troubled at the news of her Sons being wounded, that she ſwooned away twice: but the Chirurgeon having convinc'd her it was only a Scratch, she turn'd all her care towards the Pretty Frenchman, who would not be ſearch'd though they preceiv'd him loſe much blood: but he was obſtinate, and all they could ſay could not prevail with him to let the Chirurgeon ſee his wound. The part he was wounded in troubl'd him more than the wound, as fore-ſeeing it im­poſſible to keep the ſecret of his Sex undiſ­cover'd among ſuch a Croud as waited there to ſee the firſt dreſſing. Being preſs'd, and ſeeing them ready to force him to give way for the Chirurgeon to ſearch the wound, he deſired to ſpeak a word with the Marchioneſs in private; and told her, that for very ſubſtantial rea­ſons she should one day be acquainted with, she had been oblig'd to diſguiſe her Sex; and begg'd of her by all that's Good, not to diſcover her, and to charge the Chirurgeon not to do it. The Marchioneſs ſurpriz'd at the news, promis'd what she deſir'd: and having commanded all the reſt to quit the Room but the Chirurgeon, she remain'd alone with him and Chriſtina, whoſe wound appear'd not dangerous: and the Chirurgeon undertook it should be cured in five or ſix days. The Mar­queſs not able to comprehend why his Friend was ſo ſcrupulous, earneſtly begg'd his Mo­ther to tell him what he had ſaid to her in pri­vate, and why she made all the Company12 quit the Room: She gave him an anſwer that ſatiſfied him.

In the mean time, Don Lorenzo coming in haſtily, upon the news of his Kinſ-man being wounded, would have carried him home; but the Marchioneſs refuſing her conſent, told him, His Kinſ-man had been wounded in the defence of her Son, and ſhould not go out of her Houſe uncur'd. On the morrow Don Lorenzo renew'd his Requeſt to have his Kinſ-man home, whom he lov'd as tenderly as if he were his Son. The Marchioneſs ſtuck to her firſt Reſolution; and the Chi­rurgeon who had the Frenchman in cure coming in, Don Lorenzo would have the ſatiſ­faction to ſee the condition of the Wound: but the Marchioneſs obſtinately refuſing him a ſight of it, without giving him any tolera­ble reaſon, Don Lorenzo fanſy'd his Kinſ-man mortally wounded, and that to be the cauſe of her obſtinate refuſals. This made him ſend for two very able Chirurgeons, in whom he thought he might place an intire confidence. And when they were come he pray'd them to ſee the Wound, and give him their Judg­ment of it. Chriſtina more troubled with the unſeaſonable kindneſs of her Kinſ-man than the pains of her Wounds, was forc'd to impart the ſecret to him, as well as to the Marchioneſs, that ſhe might be at eaſe from his importunate Care of her. Don Lorenzo could hardly believe her, and thought they but jeſted with him, till the Marchioneſs ſeriouſly affirmed it. Chriſtina was perfectly13 cur'd in a ſhort time, and ſooner perhaps than ſhe could have wiſh'd, imagining a Secret known to ſo many, could not long be kept private. She was loath to expoſe her ſelf to the diſcretion of ſo many; and having re­tir'd to Don Lorenzo's, notwithſtanding the reſiſtance made by the Marchioneſs, ſhe was dreſs'd in Maids Apparel, and ſo continu'd thenceforwards; being ſo aſham'd of what had happen'd to her, that ſhe would not ſtir out of her Chamber.

The Young Marqueſs d'Oſſeyra hearing the news went to Don Lorenzo's to ſee his old Comerade, more out of curioſity than on any other account. The Marchioneſs d'Aytona long'd extreamly to ſee Chriſtina, and take her home to her: But Chriſtina obſtinately re­fus'd to receive any Viſit. And to be rid of their importunity, prayed her Kinſ-man to put her into a Nunnery for ſome time, and to give it out ſhe was returned into France Don Lorenzo approved the deſign, and made a Viſit to the Lady Abbeſs of the Ʋrſulines, to intreat her to receive a Kinſ-woman of his into the number of her Penſioners. All things beieg agreed on, Chriſtinae was pri­vately put into the Convent of Ʋrſulines, where ſhe was kindly entertain'd, her beauty gain­ing her the affection of all that ſaw her. And when ſhe had been there long enough to give them a taſt of her Wit and good Humour, the good Nuns were ſingularly well-pleaſed with her Company; and ſhe gain'd ſo great a Reputation among the Penſioners, that14 they did nothing without her advice. She ſpent about ſix Months in this Place of Re­fuge and Security, from the great power of Fortune; who vext to ſee her ſo much at eaſe, cut her out more work, and raiſed her new troubles, which forc'd her out of her port to be toſt with freſh turmoils.

The Prelates of Spain are very exact in viſi­ting Religious-Houſes, as well for encourage­ment of the Nuns who have great venera­tion for them, as to diſcharge the duty of their Paſtoral-Office. The Arch-biſhop of Saragoſa going to viſit the Convent of Ʋrſulines, the Nuns having receiv'd his Benediction, treated him with a pretty merry Comedy, wherein Chriſtina acted the part of Don San­cho Abarca King of Arragon, and did it admi­rably well. The Arch-biſhop who had ſeve­ral times ſeen Chriſtina a Student, looking on her in Man's Habit on this occaſion, pre­ſently knew her; and the more eaſily, for that Chriſtina being extreamly handſome and of more than ordinary ſtature, there was ſcarce ſuch another to be ſeen in Spain. The Comedy being ended, the good Nuns who expected great applauſe for performing ſo well, were aſtoniſht to ſee the Prelate's Face glow with indignation and anger: He called the Superior aſide with two of the graveſt Nuns; and told them, he was very much ſcandaliz'd to ſee that in contempt of the Rules of their Order, and to the great ſcan­dal of ſo many Devout Souls in the Convent, they had the boldneſs to introduce into it a15 Young Man to act his part in the Comedy. The Nuns look'd on one another without ſaying a word: The Superiour more ſur­priz'd than the reſt, ſpoke for her ſelf, and aſſured the Arch-biſhop there was not a Man among the afters; and that every part of the Comedy was acted by ſuch only as ſhe very well knew, and had long been of the Houſe. The Arch-biſhop thinking him­ſelf as fully aſſur'd of the contrary, asked her who acted Don Sancho, and how ſong that Perſon had been of the Houſe: The Superi­our anſwer'd, it was a French Maid, a Kinſ-woman of Don Lorenzo's, who recommended her very earneſtly to them, and one who be­haved her ſelf very well. How credulous are you, poor Innocents, ſays the Arch-biſhop, you have taken in a Wolf, and lock'd him up among the Sheep. The good Souls were preſently nonpluſt; and without farther in­quiry, pray'd the Prelate the Criminal might be inſtantly arreſted, and brought to Exem­plary Puniſhment. The Arch-biſhop being a Perſon of more than ordinary diſcretion, was not of their mind, but repreſented to them the inconveniences might attend the publiſhing this buſineſs, which would be matter of laughter and ſport to the World, and a diſhonour to the Convent; adding, that without doubt the Young Man had been blindly led away with a violent Paſſion he had for ſome one of the Penſioners; that they ſhould watch and endeavour to ſurprize them, and then have them Married. The Nuns16 received with a great deal of reſpect the Arch-biſhops Counſel; and having given him thanks, promis'd to follow his Advice. He was no ſooner gone, but the Superiour called for the Siſter who had the Govern­ment of the Penſioners, and having made particular and exact inquiry into Chriſtina's Life, and which of the Penſioners ſhe was moſt intimate with, ſhe found ſhe lived in very ſtrict Correſpondence and Amity with Zera­phine Cortes, one of the handſomeſt Siſters in the Convent, and a conſiderable Fortune: That ſame, without doubt, is the Wretch hath yielded up her Honour, and profaned our Convent, ſays the Superiour; and forget­ting the ſecreſie the Arch-biſhop had recom­mended to her, immediatley ſhe call'd a Con­vocation, and with tears in her Eyes declar'd to the Siſters the misfortune befallen their Convent, and deſir'd their advice in that im­portant Affair. Many, eſpecially the Elder Nuns, inſenſible of the pleaſures of Youth, were for delivering the Criminals into the hands of the Secular Juſtice. But it was car­ried by Majority of Voices, and reſolved that Chriſtina and her ſuppos'd Miſtreſs ſhould be lock'd up a part in ſeveral Cells, and fed only with Bread and Water, till the Arch-biſhop ſhould prevail with Don Franciſco Cortes for his Pardon, and conſent for Marriage. The Criminals were accordingly call'd to the Bar, where they received as ſevere Reprimands as anger could ſuggeſt. Chriſtina who at firſt thought all done in Railery, could not for­bear17 laughing; but finding them in good earneſt ſhe ſtood upon her Juſtification, but to no purpoſe; for without giving her leave to ſpeak they ſhut her up, and executed the Order of the Convocation with that rigour, they gave only pitiful old Pallets to lie on. Chriſtina ſent the Superiour word by her Keeper, that to know her miſtake, ſhe need only have her ſearch'd; and that ſhe would moſt willingly undergo any puniſhment if ſhe were not as other Women. This was reported to the Superiour; but the Nuns were all ſo prepoſſeſt, that there was not one in the Convent would undertake ſearching her, for fear of meeting ſome Bug-bears the Nuns are terribly afraid of. Don Franciſco Cortes being privately told of the buſines, was for having them puniſh'd as Vitiated Veſtals, and buried alive. The Arch-biſhop who was for moderate courſes, ſent for Don Lo­renzo; and having aggravated the Enormity of the Crime he had commited in introducing his Kinſ-man among the Nuns in Womens Apparel, without giving him time to anſwer, he asked him of what Quality and Fortune that Wretch was. Don Lorenzo aſtoniſht at this long Diſcourſe, gave him an account of Chriſtina's Adventures, and made him clearly ſenſible of the Error he had committed in the Judgment he made of thoſe two Young Perſons; and added, the Marchioneſs d'Oſſeyra would confirm all he told him. The Arch-biſhop was ſatisfied, and went directly to the Convent to diſabuſe the poor Nuns, by acquainting them with all that had happen'd18 to Chriſtina ever ſince ſhe came into Spain. The Priſoners were ſet at Liberty, and having thank'd the Arch-biſhop, were the firſt that laugh'd and diverted themſelves with their di­ſaſter. The Marchioneſs d'Oſſeyra underſtan­ding Chriſtina was in the Convent, and not gone into France, as had been reported, went to ſee her, with the Marchioneſs D' Aytona her Daughter, who was raviſh'd with her company. The young Marqueſs who was in the Country, having heard the News by Letter from his Siſter, came away Poſt to ſee Chriſtina, who appear'd ſo Charming in her Natural Habit, that from that very moment the Friendſhip he had for her improv'd it ſelf into Ad­miration and Love: Chriſtina perceiving it by his diſcourſe, and the diſorder he appear'd in, would have withdrawn, telling him, un­leſs he would alter his Language, he ſhould never ſee her more. The Marqueſs to keep her a little longer with him, promis'd all ſhe deſir'd, and pray'd her to admit him to viſit her at leaſt thrice a week, but ſhe gave him leave to ſee her only once a fort­night.

The Nuns, the mean while, ſtrove who ſhould firſt make her Peace with Chriſtina and her Comrade, telling them how ſorry they were for their ill uſage; and upon this occaſion every one would needs perſwade them ſhe had voted in their favour, or at leaſt had ſtill a good opinion of them. But all agreed, that the Siſter who was over the Quire had been the moſt bitter againſt them; and when ſhe ſaw ſhe could not prevail to19 have them made away, ſhe inſiſted ſtrongly, they ſhould be made a publick example. Chriſtina had particular confidence in that Nun, and took her for her beſt Friend; for that the Choire and the Veſtry being under her Charge, ſhe often pray'd Chriſtina (who was very handy) to help her to wind up Ribband, and other little offices, which ſhe did for her with ſingular dexterity and neatneſs. This Nun was prodigiouſly covetous, and not liking the Wax-lights a Chandler provided for the Convent, she would needs try the making ſome with the help of another Nun of her humour; but her Huſwifery prov'd ſo bad, and the Candles burnt ſo dim, they could ſcarce ſee by that light in the Choire, which was excellent ſport for the other Nuns, e­ſpecially the Penſioners, who hated her mortally: they reſolv'd to play her a Trick; Chriſtina having got ſome Powder, with the help of her dear Friend Zeraphine Cortes, ſow'd two Cords together, and having roll'd them up hollow, ſhe cover'd them with Wax, and fill'd them with Powder ſo neatly, that no body would have thought but they were Wax-Candles: they had the dexterity to put to them little Matches, which should burn about half a quarter of an hour before the fire came at the Powder. At night when prayer time in the Choire was come, they took away the Lights that were in the Can­dleſticks, and put in theirs in their ſtead: as ſoon as they were lighted, they preſently obſerv'd they burnt dimmer than ordinary; but this was no news: yet the good Siſter20 (who thought they were her handy-work) impatient to ſee them caſt ſo dull a light, would needs mend one of them, and take off a little Wax that was melted about it. By this time the Powder took fire and went off like a Gun: the poor Nun fell flat on her back, and the reſt were ſo amaz'd, they were ready to run away. One of the boldeſt of them runing in to help the di­ſtreſſed Surintendant of the Choire, the other Candle fir'd with more noiſe than the for­mer: this put the poor Nuns into a perfect Confuſion; the fearful runaway, the reſt ſtaid to help their Companions, only Chriſtina and her Friend were pleaſed with the diſorder, and laught as if they would burſt. The Mor­row they held many Arguments about the accident; moſt were of opinion the Devil had a hand in it, and that the Lights were be­witch'd: The Nun, Surintendant of the Choire, would no longer meddle with them, and the Superiour was forced to make uſe of her old Chandler again.

The Marchioneſs d' Aytona being alone, by reaſon of her Husbands abſence at Madrid, to attend his imployments there, had long (but in vain) wish'd to have Chriſtina at her Houſe; and being oblig'd on the Morrow for the Country, ſhe begg'd her company ſo earneſtly, it was not in her power to refuſe her. The Spaniſh Ladies have commonly as little divertiſement in the Country as in Town, being generally shut up in their Chambers, and receive no Viſits but from their near Kindred. The Marqueſs d' Oſſeyra made ſo21 good uſe of his privilege of Brother, that he went every day to ſee his Siſter, though not ſo much to complement her, as to have a ſight of Chriſtina, with whom he was Charm'd. In one of his Viſits he had the opportunity to declare his paſſion for her, and let her know the violence of it in the tendereſt expreſſions, aſſuring her it ſhould laſt while he lived. Chriſtina interrupting him, intreat­ed him to quit his Paſſion, and think no more of Love; ſince in the condition ſhe was in, there was reaſon to believe he intended to make her his Miſtreſs, and could not have any thoughts of Marrying a Stranger, being ut­terly unaquainted with her Quality and Fortune. But the Amorous Marqueſs having ſworn ſeveral times he would Marry her when ſhe pleas'd, though Chriſtina was of all perſons the leaſt inclin'd to Love, to ſatisfie him, ſhe told him, if he would continue in the ſame mind two years, that ſhe might be convinc'd he had no ill deſign, she would allow him the liberty to hope: that in the mean time she expected it as an Evidence of his Love, to ſay no more of it, but reſt ſatiſ­fied with her Promiſe. The Marqueſs had that reſpect for her, that he forthwith re­tir'd for fear of diſpleaſing her, and reſolv'd to keep ſilent the Paſſion he had for her two years, in hopes by ſo ſignal obedience to win upon, and maſter the inſenſibility of his Mi­ſtreſs. The Marchioneſs had ſent for a Fow­ler who had the Reputation of the beſt Marks­man in Spain. One day in complaiſance to Chriſtina, she went out in her Coach to ſee22 the skill of the Fowler, who made five shots at Partridges flying, and kill'd but two: however he was admir'd, ſo few there are in Spain that shoot flying. Chriſtina ſlighting the pretended skill of the Fowler, lighted out of the Coach, and taking the Marquiſs d'Oſſey­ra's Gun, made ready to shoot the firſt Par­tridge that ſprung: By good fortune they put up a Covey, Chriſtina shot and kill'd three of them; and unconcern'd at the Applauſe of the Spectators, new-charg'd her Gun, and having obſerv'd the Partridges light in two ſeveral places, she ordered two should be ſprung (one from either place) and kill'd both with two ſeveral shots. The Marchi­oneſs and her Brother, could ſcarce believe what they ſaw: however they made her get into the Coach again, fearing ſo violent an Ex­erciſe might incommode her, and brought her back, in a manner, againſt her will.

About this time Chriſtina received Letters from Bearn, which brought her News of the Death of her Father, and the great de­ſire her Mother had to ſee her. This ob­lig'd her to pray the Marchioneſs to bring her back to Saragoſa to ſpeak with her Kinſ­man about the preſent condition of her Af­fairs. At her return she was viſited by moſt that knew her: Amongſt the reſt, her Anci­ent Comrades in the Univerſity pretended a right to make Love to her. Don Philip de Palefox, formerly mentioned, was one of thoſe who appear'd moſt concern'd, to let her know they had more then ordinary kindneſs for her. Amidſt all theſe pretenders, she23 preſerv'd her uſual indifferency. Don Phi­lip not diſcourag'd by the ſmall Progreſs of his Amours, fancy'd he might better pleaſe her with a Serenade which he gave her. Chriſtina who was not of the humour of the Spaniſh Ladies, who all love this kind of En­tertainment, was ſo angry at the noiſe it made in the Street, where two or three Per­ſons were abus'd on this occaſion, that ſhe would not ſee Don Philip any more, nor ap­pear to any perſon, no not to the Marqueſs who lov'd her with the greateſt reſpect. Being thus depriv'd of the ſight of her, and not able to bear ſo killing a loſs, he inquir'd and learnt the cauſe of her anger, and re­ſolved to demand ſatisfaction from Don Phi­lip, and did it with a great deal of courage, but ſo little ſucceſs, that he received two dangerous Wounds, and lay at the Mercy of his Rival, who taking his advantage, re­quir'd him to quit all pretence to Chriſtina, The Marqueſs chuſing rather to loſe his life than his Miſtreſs, Don Philip diſarm'd, and left him. The Marchioneſs d' Oſſeyra ſeeing her Son in that condition, knowing Chriſtina was the cauſe of the Quarrel, was extreamly offended with her. The Marchi­oneſs d' Aytona, came to her, endeavouring to comfort and divert her from the violent reſolutions ſhe would have taken againſt Chriſtina; but could not prevail with her to forbear ſending Don Lorenzo word, that if Chriſtina ſtaid longer in Spain, ſhe would ſet fire on his Houſe. Chriſtina who was pre­paring for her return, haſtened her Journey24 for Bearn; and coming home, was received by her Mother with a great deal of joy, as far as the different Paſſions of Joy for ſight of her beloved Daughter, and ſorrow for her Son, would allow her.

All the Perſons of Quality in that Country complemented her at her return, and ſeveral thought her ſo Amiable, that in leſs than a Month ſhe had many very advantageous Pro­poſals of Marriage: Her Mother had partly made a Promiſe of her to a Gentleman, one of the moſt conſiderable in thoſe parts. But Chriſtina who lov'd her liberty, whether ſhe had a ſecret inclination for the Marqueſs, or a natural averſion from Marriage, declar'd ſhe would not put her ſelf under a Maſter; and ſince ſhe was now in a Country where thoſe of her Sex are no Slaves, ſhe would en­joy her privilege. The moſt concern'd, thought to overcome her with diligence of attendance, and would not be diſcourag'd, till they found ſhe was indifferent for all, and made no account of their ſervices. In the mean time, the Marqueſs d'Oſſeyra being cur'd of his Wounds, and hearing his Miſtreſs was gone, was very much afflicted with the News, and would have followed her into France, but for fear of diſpleaſing her. He order'd one of his Family to paſs the Pyre­nees, and carry a Letter (he gave him) to Chri­ſtina, which probably was full of tender and paſſionate Expreſſions: (I wiſh it in my power to have pleaſur'd you with the Copy.) But the Marchioneſs, his Mother, having diſcover'd the Intrigue, caus'd her Sons Con­fident25 to be ſtaid by the way, and the Letter to be burnt; and oblig'd him with fearful threats to tell her Son, his Miſtreſs was Married, and had ſacrificed his Letter to her Husband, who having read it, threw it in the fire. The paſſionate Marqueſs was ſo vext at the News, it almoſt coſt him his life: At laſt, at the perſwaſion of his Friends, he went to Madrid, where Ambition quickly juſtled out Love, as uſually happens to the misfortune of Ladies. Don Philip was better ſerv'd, for having ſent a truſty Meſſenger to Bearn, to know whether the News he had heard of the Marriage were true, he was in­form'd ſhe was not Marry'd; and that ſhe went very often a-Hunting, as the greateſt pleaſure ſhe took. This made him think of ſtealing her; and the rather, becauſe he was of Opinion there was no winning of her by fair means: A Man of that Country, whom he gain'd by his Liberality, offer'd to be his Guide, and repreſented the matter ſo eaſie, that Don Philip reſolv'd to put his deſign in Execution. Accompanied with this Man, and two others well mounted, he paſt the Mountains, and the third day in the Even­ing came to a Village near Mayence; and that leſs notice might be taken of his Arri­val, he ſent the two Perſons who bore him company to lodge in another Inn: the Mor­row betimes his Guide was in the Field, and brought him news that Chriſtina would not ſtir abroad that day; and that the next day ſhe was to viſit a Kinſman, within a League of her Houſe. Don Philip having inform'd himſelf26 of the way ſhe was to take, and knowing pretty near what time she would ſet out, gave his Men order to advance ſoftly, and keep the Road: a moment after he followed with his Guide, having taken his Meaſures ſo right, that he arriv'd preciſely as Chriſtina was paſſing by, attended only with a Foot-boy. As ſoon as Don Philip ſaw her, he was ſo troubled and aſſaulted at once with Paſſions of ſo different Natures, that he was upon the point of altering his Reſolution, and begging her pardon for the rashneſs of his Attempt. The ſuddenneſs of the accident had a ſuitable effect on Chriſtina, who pre­ſently ſuſpected his deſign; and he as quickly put her out of doubt, when he told her as she was returning back, upon pretence to receive him at her Houſe, that he was come to take her back into Spain, where he could not live without her; aſſuring her, he would Marry her as ſoon as they got thither. Chriſtina by a readineſs of Wit, natural to many of her Sex, concealing her ſurprize, look'd ſmiling upon him, and told him she was very ſenſible of the greatneſs of his Paſ­ſion for her, and was ready to go back with him to Spain, to receive the Honour (he was pleas'd to promiſe) of being Marry'd to him; only she pray'd him to allow her ſo much time as was requiſite for executing a De­ſign of that Nature with decency. Don Philip credulous as true Lovers are, was Charm'd at the good Fortune, to ſee himſelf not oblig'd to uſe force, but hoped he might enjoy her without offering any violence: He72 flatter'd himſelf she lov'd him; and quit­ting a deſign Deſpair had ingag'd him in, he willingly imbraced all Expedients she propos'd. They went to Meyrac, where Chriſtina ravi­shed with joy for having eſcap'd ſo great danger, made as if she were extremely concern'd to have him well entertain'd; and under that pre­tence, diſpatch'd two or three of her Ser­vants, to pray three or four Neighbours to come in all haſt to Meyrac. They all came in the Evening, and were much ſurpriz'd at the ſtrangeneſs of the Adventure; and animated by an indiſcreet Zeal, and the anger of the Mo­ther, agreed upon reſolutions very violent, and contrary to the Laws of Hoſpitality. But Chriſtina being of the humour of moſt Women, who ſeldom hate thoſe that love them, though they love not again, and weary already with the noyſe she had made in the world, could not be induced to conſent to a cruel Revenge of a deſign undertaken for love of her, but was content to go into Don Philip's Chamber, at­tended with ſome Gentlemen of the Neigh­bourhood, and tell him she had no ſmall re­ſpect for his Perſon, but could not yet re­ſolve to Marry. With that she retir'd, to a­void hearing the reproaches of a Lover, who after she was gone, could not forbear com­plaining of her; and thoſe who accompanied her thither, told him harshly enough he muſt be gone. He return'd in a deſperate mood in­to the Inn where he had left his People, made them get haſtily on Horſeback, and rode all Night, deteſting his Paſſion no leſs than his Credulity. Not long after he addreſs'd him­ſelf,28 to the Duke de S. Germain, Viceroy of Catalnia, for imployment, perhaps to have the better opportunity to take revenge on the French for the ill uſage he conceived he had received from Chriſtina, who had her share of the trouble occaſioned by this Adven­ture by the fright the Spaniard put her in, and the importunity of Suitors, whoſe Paſſion was awakned by the accident, and put them upon new and preſſing Addreſſes to her. Her Mother and Relations made uſe of it, to perſwade her to Marry Marmon, a Gentle­man of great Merit, who had long endea­vour'd to gain her, and had his Eſtate conve­niently ſeated near hers. This buſineſs was believ'd of ſo much advantage to both, and the Relations on either ſide deſired it ſo earneſtly, that Articles of Marriage were drawn upon the aſſurance the Barroneſs gave to prevail with her Daughter to conſent: But Marmon being informed how much they preſs'd her, went to ſee her, and having complain'd of her indifference, aſſur'd her, he was ready to ſet her at liberty from any Engagement she might be conceived under to him, and would endeavour to merit her by ſuch ſervices as he thought moſt accept­able to her. Chriſtina who had not before vouchſafed him an anſwer, obſerving his ſentiments ſo full of reſpect, declar'd to him she had no averſion againſt his Perſon, tho a ſtrong one againſt Marriage, and was reſolv'd to prefer her liberty before all other advan­tages; but if it should be her fortune one day to loſe it, she should be glad to ſacrifice it29 to a perſon who appear'd ſo reaſonable. He was ſatisfi'd with her anſwer, and pray'd his Relations to ſpeak no more of the buſineſs, but give him time to win her by his ſervices. He waited on her thenceforward with a great deal of diligence, but with ſo much diſcreti­on (not ſpeaking a word of Love) that she received all his Viſits with much ſatisfaction, and had a real Eſteem (though no Love) for him.

One Afternoon she had been abroad with Marmon a-shooting Quails with a Croſs-bow without a Gun; a great Maſtiff ſet upon her Setting-Dog: she preſently ran in to force the Maſtiff to let go his hold, which he too quickly did upon the firſt blow she gave him, and flying at her, bit her in the right Arm. Marmon, who was hard by, purſued the Maſtiff; and having overtaken him, preſently diſpatch'd him, though not without being bitten by him. He had ſcarce laid him dead, but he ſpy'd two or three Countrymen com­ing with Guns in purſuit of the Maſtiff, who told him it was a Mad Dog, and had already bit three or four. Chriſtina was ſo frighted at the News, she was ready to ſink; and get­ting haſtily home, ſent for an able Phyſician of the Neighbourhood, who according to the Cuſtom of thoſe of the Profeſſion, made ſlight of the matter, and undertook to cure her in few days, and ordered her ſeveral Remedies for the purpoſe. Marmon was ſo tranſport­ed, they doubted he would run Mad; for a long time he obſtinately refuſed to take any thing, imagining if he could〈◊〉•••­ſelf30 from Love, he had no reaſon to fear Madneſs, being reſolved to follow the Fate of his Miſtreſs. Chriſtina being told of it, con­jur'd him to uſe the ſame Remedies that ſhe did; aſſuring him ſhe was much concern'd for his health.

Some days after their hurts, there was a re­port, that a Woman bit by the ſame Dog was run Mad, and that they were forced to ſmother her. They would have conceal'd this News from them; but Chriſtina's Mother having heard it, was ſo alarm'd that in ſpite of the Phyſicians and their Medicines, ſhe reſolved to take her Daughter to Bayonne, to dip her in the Sea, as a Sovereign Remedy in the caſe. Marmon would make one of the Company, more for the pleaſure of attending his Miſtreſs, than for the Cure. The morrow after their arrival the Ladies were viſited by moſt of the Perſons of Quality in the Town. The Viſcount Ronceval, then at Bayonne, was one of the firſt to pay them his Civilities: He was of a good Family, of a haughty humour, and Mein, and had a conſiderable Eſtate in the Country of Beſque: But he had the intoleta­ble vanity to think he did a Lady Honour, if he took the pains to come near her. The firſt time he ſaw Chriſtina, thought her ſo Amiable, he reſolved to ſee her often; the ſecond Viſit amus'd him, and fill'd him full of Amorous Inclinations: and having been a whole Week without ſeeing her, being in a Courſe of Phyſick, his Fancy had the oppor­tunity to repreſent her to his thoughts to the utmoſt advantage. The third Viſit he made31 her, he went with a reſolution to declare his Love, but did not, having not been able to find her alone; but he return'd home up to the Ears in Love, which may be reckon'd a­mong the Triumphs of Cupid. The morrow he deſired to ſpeak with her before eight in the Morning, but was put off till the After­noon. The Ladies had ſcarce dined but he came in, and happily finding Chriſtina in her Chamber alone, he began with telling her he had brought her the beſt News ſhe ever heard. This Lady, who took ſingular delight to hear News, and was paſſionately concern'd for the Progreſs of the Victorious Arms of France, fancy'd ſhe ſhould hear from him of ſome Vi­ctory in the Field, or the taking of Cambray, or Valenciennes, and was upon that account very earneſt to know the News. The Viſcount ha­ving a more than ordinary Confidence, and a Stranger to the fears incident to moſt Lovers when they are to declare their Paſſion to their Miſtreſſes, never ſtuck to tell her, that a Per­ſon of great Merit and Birth, and as great a For­tune, admir'd her and was reſolv'd to marry her. Chriſtina who little expected ſuch a Com­plement, anſwer'd, that how little ſoever he was concern'd for that Perſon, he would do well to adviſe him to think no more of that buſi­neſs, it being more than probable that for all his great Quality and Fortune, he ſhould but loſe his time in Courting her. The Viſcount was not diſcouraged at this Anſwer, but think­ing ſhe had not well underſtood him, told her, ſhe would not be ſo indifferent, did ſhe but know the Gentlemans Name. It madded him32 the while to ſee her ſo incurious, and not in­quiſitive who it was, and himſelf depriv'd of the occaſion he expected to have from her que­ſtion, to anſwer, it was he: Were it you re­plies Chriſtina coldly, I had no more to ſay to you than what you have heard: 'Tis not Poſ­ſible, ſays the Viſcount, you should be ſo much your own Enemy, to refuſe ſuch a ſettlement as I propoſe to you: I have that exceſs of kind­neſs for you, I will give you time to think on't, and doubt not but you will alter your mind when you have conſider'd the ad­vantages of the offer I make you. At this another coming in, he withdrew, and came two days after to know if she had tho' of the propoſal he had made her: 'Twas to no pur­poſe to think of it, anſwer'd she, having nothing to add to what I ſaid to you at firſt. She ſpoke theſe words ſo unconcern'd, and with ſo much ſcorn, that the preſumptuous Viſcount, not able to endure it, took his leave, and went away, telling her, ſince she made ſo ill uſe of his kindneſs, he could alter his humour. Chriſtina to be rid of his extravagant impor­tunities, gave order they should anſwer him at the door if he came again, that she was not well, and in few days return'd with her Mo­ther to Bearn. Every body at Bayonne admir'd her, and ſpoke well of her when gone; only the Viſcount Ronceval haughtily publish'd, she was in Love with him, and added many ridi­culous Circumſtances to make the ſtory more probable. Chriſtina heard of it, and was touched to the quick, though 'twas told her for her comfort, the Viſcount uſually33 took that liberty, and that his Acquaintance made very little accompt of it: But this would not ſatisfie her; she was ready to take Horſe for Bayonne to punish his inſolence, wanting nei­ther courage nor dexterity to have ſatisfaction from him; nothing but the fear of giving oc­caſion for new diſcourſe held her back. Mar­mon having had ſome confuſed account of it, reſented it with all the indignation of a paſſio­nate Lover: To be clearer informed, he goes to his Miſtreſs, and finding her much out of humour, asked her the reaſon. You are the only Man in the Province (ſays she very ſeri­ouſly) that is ignorant of it. 'Tis ſomewhat extraordinary, a man who hath declar'd a Paſſion for me, should be the laſt that knows I have been abus'd Marmon who wanted not the moſt delicate ſentiments of a man of Honour, made her a profound Reverence, and re­tir'd: Two hours after he got on Horſe-back, and took the Road for Bayonne, where he was told at his arrival, the Viſcount was gone to one of his Seats in the Country a-Hunting. He reſolv'd to follow him, and found him juſt as he was going from home to a Gentleman his Neighbour to dine with him. The firſt Complements paſt, he let the Viſcount know he had buſineſs of conſequence to communicate to him, and that it would be convenient they might be private. Ronceval order'd his Ser­vants to go before, andell his Friends, that he brought with him a Gentleman of Bearn who would be glad of being known to him. Ronceval and Marmon rode gently after, diſ­courſing together. When the Servants were34 got out out of ſight, Marmon told him he was come to demand ſatisfaction of him for what he had ſaid to the diſadvantage of the moſt Charming Perſon on Earth. This ſur­priz'd the Viſcount, who would have turn'd allnto Raillery; but being preſt to take his Piſtol in hand, he anſwer'd briskly, and fought with courage enough: But whether Marmon were really the braver man, or that Love made him the more dextrous, he ſhot him dead upon the place, and made away to a Fiends Houſe upon the Mountains, where he hid himſelf many days to ſave himſelf from the purſuit of thoſe who would have ruin'd him, by making this paſs for a Duel. Chriſti­na expreſt her ſelf ſorry for the News, but could hardly be troubled at heart, which was ſo bitterly enrag'd againſt Ronceval: the only means to appeaſe it, was to make him a Victim. The heat of the firſt purſuits being over, Marmon longing impatiently to ſee his Miſtreſs, ſtole away privately to Meyrac, where he was received with all the marks of eſteem and acknowledgement he could expect from Chriſtina; who ſeeing him in trouble for a Pardon from the King, told him, it became not a man of Honour to deſire it, without having deſerv'd it: And ſince his Majeſty commanded the Armies in Perſon, it would be an eaſie matter for him to make himſelf known to that great Prince by ſome ſignal ſer­vice, which might aſſure him of pardon for a reward, and was the only way to gain her Heart. He was raviſh'd to find her ſenti­ments ſo different from the weakneſs of her35 Sex, and taking his leave, promis'd never to return till he had made it appear, he was not altogether unworthy the concern ſhe ex­preſt for his reputation. He order'd his af­fairs at home with all poſſible expedition, and came to Paris a little before the opening of the Compagne for the French County. Two or three of his Friends, who were Muſque­teers, ſpoke ſo well of that ſervice, and the frequent advantages they had to ſignalize themſelves, that he reſolv'd to liſt himſelf in the ſecond Company, where Mounſieur Jauvelt very gladly received him, and Marmon as worthily ſerv'd him with a great deal of re­putation and courage. At their return from the laſt conqueſt of that County, he gave Chriſtina a particular account of what had paſt; and amng the reſt, the Death of Captain Floris her Kinſ-man. He enlarged his Letter with ElogieS of the valour and conduct of the indefatigable Lewis the great, whoſe heroick actions excel and deface what Hiſtory hath left upon Record of Caeſar's and Alexander's, and what Fabulous Writers have invented of imaginary Heroes; extolling in the concluſion their happineſs and ſatisfaction who ſerve ſo brave and vertuous a Monarch. Chriſtina ambitious of Glory was ſo tranſported with this faithful relation, ſhe forgot her Sex; and taking a reſolution beyond her ſelf, or at leaſt ſuch as ſhe only was capable of, eſpou­ſed a deſign to diſpute with the braveſt of Men, the honour of well-ſerving ſo worthy a Maſter; yet found upon ſecond thoughts36 ſo many obſtacles in her way, that would have diſcouraged any other from executing ſo generous a reſolution. She made the Abbot of Dizette her intimate Friend acquainted with her intentions, who having endeavou­red (but in vain) to divert her from purſu­ing them, promis'd to ſerve her to his pow­er; the Death of her Mother happening about that time facilitated her deſign, though it retarded the execution ſome Months. E­very day ſome new difficulty aroſe, and ſee­ing it impoſſible to ſettle all her Affairs, ſhe gave the Abbot a general proxy, and under pretence of following a conſiderable Suit at Law depending at Grenoble, ſhe went thi­ther, and having dextrouſly rid her ſelf of her Country Folks who came with her, ſhe put her ſelf in Mans Habit, and without having a­ny Mercy on her delicate Hair cut it ſhort, and with a Foot-boy newly taken, went for Paris under the Name of St. Aubin. The ſe­cond days journey ſhe overtook a Gentleman of Provence going to Court, who was ve­ry glad of her Company; this Gentleman was Brother to the illuſtrious Chevalier Four­bin, and was ſo pleaſed with the conver­ſation of St. Aubin, and took that eſteem for his perſon, that he freely offered him his inte­reſt and his Friends to help him to an employ proportionable to his merit. St. Aubin tel­ling him he had never been in the ſer­vice, but was deſirous to liſt himſelf a Muſ­queteer, he preſented him to his Brother, who commands the firſt Company, and re­commended37 him as affectionately as if he had been his Son.

The morrow after he was lifted, the King was preſent at a general muſter of his Guards; and the new Muſqueteer appearing in the ranks was admired by all that obſerved him. And as if France could not have pro­duced ſo good a Face, his Comrades ſaid he was an Engliſh man, and Nephew to my Lord Douglas; though this was but ſur­miſe, yet none were inquiſitive as to trouble themſelves about the truth of it, and moſt be­lieved him a ſtranger: One more curious than the reſt, being in the ſame rank with Marmon, told him of it, and pray'd him to go ſee him when the firſt Company fil'd off. Marmon was ſo aſtoniſh'd to ſee how like his Miſtreſs the pretended Engliſhman was, he could not forbear telling his Friend, this Muſqueteer had the Meen and Air of a Gentlewoman of his Country: And as ſoon as he return'd to Paris, he writ a Letter to Chriſti­na, (whom he thought ſtill in Bearn) wherein he acquainted her how much his fancy was poſſeſt with her, and every moment repre­ſented her Charms to his thoughts; and that Fortune in favour of his Love had vouchſafed him another piece of happineſs by placing a­mong Muſqueteers an Engliſh youth, who was the very Picture of her, and diſſipated by his preſence the trouble her abſence would have given him this Campaign. St. Aubin having reſolv'd not to diſcover himſelf to Mar­mon before the opening the Campaign, and ob­ſerving he took particular Notice of him, and38 that it would be impoſſible to avoid Diſcovery long, went one day to his Quarters: and find­ing him alone, told him he deſired to be acquainted with him, and could do no leſs to requite the deſire he had expreſt on two or three occaſions to contract a Friendſhip with him. Marmon was ſtrangely ſurpriz'd at the Voice, his Heart telling him preſently 'twas Chriſtina, ſpoke to him, though his reaſon could hardly give him leave to believe it. St. Aubin ſmil'd, which put Marmon out of doubt. May I credit my Eyes, ſays he, or is it an illuſion? St. Aubin interrupting him, declared the mo­tives for the reſolution he had taken, charging him at his peril not to diſcover him, and pro­miſing to be very ſenſible of the diſcretion he ſhould ſhew on this occaſion, and after they should have both gain'd credit in the ſervice they would retire together and enjoy one ano­ther the reſt of their Days: Marmon, who knew her humour, thought it to no purpoſe to endeavour making her alter her reſolu­tion, told her, It was a reſolution worthy a noble Soul. He added a thouſand obliging ex­preſſions and ſo very kind, St. Aubin told him he muſt alter his Language, and call him Couſin; which he promis'd to do, and obſerv'd it ſo carefully that their Correſpon­dency was never perceived.

The Muſqueteers within few Days follow­ed the King to Flanders; the Campaign (be­ing that of the taking of Limburg) was ſo la­mentably wet it would have diſcourag'd any but St. Aubin from being a Soldier. Marmon, who came often to ſee him as his Couſin, having en­tred39 his Tent, found him ſo weary, he could not forbear telling him how troubled he was to ſee him drudge in that hard ſervice, the fa­tigues wherof the ableſt Men were ſcarce able to endure. His diſcourſe on this Sub­ject was ſo tender and paſſionate, that a Sol­dier who overheard them through the Tent-Cloths, came briskly in, and gave them cauſe, by his expreſſions to believe he ſuſpected the words he had heard Marmon ſpeak, could not be addreſs'd but to a Maid. St. Aubin per­ceiving it, anſwered, his fooliſh Couſin there, was ſo deeply in Love he could not abſtain from diſcourſing of it, and repeating to him what he had ſaid to his Miſtreſs; and with that, turning to Marmon, I would adviſe you, Cou­ſin, to write to her, ſaith St. Aubin: Marmon anſwer'd, Matters were not yet ripe for wri­ting and he durſt not do it; the Soldier believed all this true, and preſently went out. St. Aubin took that occaſion to repre­ſent to Marmon the Inconveniences might hap­pen if he us'd diſcourſe of that Nature, and charg'd him not to ſpeak a word to him during the Campaign, but as to his Couſin.

The News about this time was, that the E­nemies fearing the approach of the K march­ed further off, and retir'd into their Countries, giving out (to amuſe the People) they would go beſiege Maeſtricht. This obliged his Maje­ſty to ſend thither a detachment of his Muſ­queteers under the command of Monſieur Jau­velle; thoſe Gallants being all willing to go upon that ſervice, in hopes to ſee the Ene­my quickly. To prevent diſcontent, the King40 was oblig'd to take the fourth Man of every rank till they made up the number deſir'd. It was St. Aubin's Fortune to be detach'd, a­mong the reſt, and Marmon's to be left be­hind; he ran to the firſt Company to en­quire how his Couſin ſped, and to his ut­ter vexation heard he was of the number of the detach'd. Marmon, unwilling to part with him, pray'd ſeveral of his Comrades to give him their place, pretending he had buſineſs of Conſequence with a Captain of the Garri­ſon Maeſtricht: But he was ſo unfortunate, or thoſe Companies were compoſed of young Gentlemen ſo paſſionately ambitious of Ho­nour, he could not find one willing to loſe ſo promiſing an occaſion to ſignalize himſelf. Part they muſt, and Marmon remained under ſuch a conſternation, nothing for a long time could comfort him. The mean time the de­tachment arriv'd at Maeſtricht, where the Marſhal d' Eſtrade joyfully receiv'd them; tho' till then, no Soldiers had been quarter­ed with the principal Burgers, on this occa­ſion no Man was exempted.

An Officer of the Town who gave out the billets, to take away all cauſe of complaint, ſaid, he would quarter a Muſqueteer at his Houſe: And having ſpy'd St. Aubin ſlipt in­to his hand a billet for his Houſe, fancying a young Man ſo handſome could not but be of a very quiet temper, and complying hu­mour. This Burgher was very rich, and had to Wife one of the handſomeſt Women of the Town; and a Siſter, whoſe Beauty and Fortune had made a great number of41 Officers her Servants. Theſe Women having heard thoſe of their acquaintance tell of the diſorders Soldiers uſually commit in their quarters, trembled at the thoughts of having one in their Houſe. But they muſt have one quarter'd with them, and they had taken their Fortune for the Man, and reſolved to uſe him the beſt they could. St. Aubin co­ming to their Houſe with a Billet in his Hand, they came down to receive him, and were ſo pleaſingly ſurpriz'd with the ſight of him, (capable to move the moſt indifferent to have kindneſs for him) that they could not for­bear viewing him with aſtoniſhment, and applauding in their Hearts their very good Fortune: His obliging way of Diſcourſe, and the excuſes he made that he was forc'd to trouble them, abſolutely gain'd him their Hearts. And to let him preſently ſee the eſteem they had for him, they gave him the beſt Chamber in the Houſe, tho' deſign'd for another. It was very richly furniſh'd, and St. Aubin after long excuſes the contrary, was forced to lie there. The Maſter of the Houſe having made proviſion of ſome Bottles of Rheniſh Wine to Welcome his new Gueſt, was angry to find him as ſober at Table, as modeſt every where elſe. St. Aubin had not been two days there, but his Hoſteſs was de­ſperately in Love with him: Her Siſter Ra­chel had very kind thoughts for him, and having twice or thrice in his Company re­ſolved to make Conqueſt of him; her Sui­tors had ſo often told her ſhe was amiable, and her Glaſs confirm'd it ſo well, that ſhe42 doubted not of ſucceſs when ſhe ſhould ap­ply her ſelf to gain Love. Theſe two fair Ones had no other diſcourſe but of the new Beauties they diſcover'd every moment in the face and wit of their new Gueſt, and he very glad of ſo pretty an amuſement, ſpent whole days at home, to divert himſelf with them at ſome little witty Games he taught them, with a penalty impos'd on thoſe who did not well. They took occaſion to commend his Complaiſance before the Maſter of the Houſe, who was raviſh'd to find his Gueſt ſo well diſ­pos'd, as to apply himſelf for their divertiſe­ment. And when his Wife was out at play, he never fail'd, for her penalty, to require her to kiſs the Muſqueteer; which ſhe was ſo pleas'd with, ſhe never minded her Game, that ſhe might by her faults have the occa­ſion to kiſs him the oftner; and the Hus­band in good humour, would ſometimes ſay he would excuſe his Wife, ſhould ſhe be un­faithful to him, to pleaſure a perſon of ſo good a Meen. Rachel, who apply'd her ſelf par­ticularly to pleaſe him, was diſtracted to ſee Saint Aubin pleas'd with thoſe ſmall Penan­ces undergone with her Siſter, without expreſ­ſing any preference for her, and became ſo jealous of him ſhe reſolved to make him jea­lous too. To effect this, ſhe ſent for a Gen­tleman of the Garriſon, who had long been in love with her. St. Aubin being excellent Company, was very glad to ſee him, and grew ſo intimate with him, that in a ſhort time the Gentleman ſtill made one amongſt them in all their divertiſements. It madded43 Rachel to ſee St. Aubin, not only unconcern­ed, as formerly, but very earneſt to have the Gentleman ſent for, when he ſtaid away long; ſo that ſhe reſolv'd to quarrel with him, that ſhe might no more be troubled with him. The Muſqueteer very glad of an Aſſiſtant to bear the Women Company, and deſirous to have him continued, when he found the difference between Rachel and the Gentleman, interpos'd to reconcile them. The Amorous Rachel, not able to deny him any thing, granted his requeſt. The Gen­tleman, who, notwithſtanding the Civilities of his Friend, ſuſpected he might be his Ri­val, was ſo ſenſible of the obligation, that he acquainted him with his Paſſion for Rachel. St. Aubin, in requital of the confidence, pro­mis'd him all the ſervice in his power. The Siſters, the mean time, obſerving they were both in Love with their Gueſt, watch'd one another narrowly, and if he chanc'd to let fall a kind expreſſion for the one, he was preſently call'd to account for it by the o­ther: And if he ſtirr'd a quarter of an hour out of doors, he was to expect a ſtrict exa­mination at his return, what he had been a doing. Thus far they held a fair Corre­ſpondence, and conceal'd nothing from each other. The Married Siſter being bolder than Rachel, to prevent and engage her in her in­tereſts, or at leaſt diſcourage her from daring to declare her love for St. Aubin, ac­quainted her with the kindneſs ſhe had for him, deſiring her Aſſiſtance to make him ſen­ſible of it, when ſhe found a favourable op­portunity44 to do it handſomely. Rachel very dextrouſly hiding her jealouſie, and glad of the diſcovery her Siſter had made her, pro­mis'd her ſecreſie and aſſiſtance. Her Siſter to make advantage of the good temper ſhe appear'd in, deſir'd her to do it that very day; and told her, that to the end ſhe might hear their diſcourſe without bluſhing, and be a Witneſs of the ſervice ſhe would do her, ſhe would ſtand behind the Hanging, and take notice of all. This put Rachel in ſome diſ­order, but ſhe muſt diſſemble and hide it the beſt ſhe can. Her Siſter had St. Aubin cal­led up, and had poſted her ſelf behind the Hanging; and as loth as Rachel was to ſpeak for any but her ſelf, it muſt be done. The Muſqueteer being entred the Room, after half a quarter of an hours diſcourſe, ſhe extoll'd his Merit and good Meen, and told him, that having ſo many good qualities, he muſt not be ſupriz'd to hear a handſome Woman, and one he ſaw every day had kid inclinations for him. St. Au­bin muſing at this, Rachel told him, he need only take good notice of her Siſter, and he might read in her looks the truth of what ſhe ſaid. St. Aubin tir'd with their forward­neſs which he had hitherto wittily diverted, anſwer'd her in general, that from the day he firſt came to their Houſe, he found himſelf extreamly oblig'd to both the Siſters, and wiſh'd himſelf in a better condition to ex­preſs his acknowledgments. Rachel would have broken off there, but remembring her45 Siſter was near, ſhe preſs'd further, to draw him to a more poſitive anſwer; and to bring him to it, magnifi'd the Charms of her Siſter: You are pleas'd to be merry, ſays St. Aubin; but ſince we are fallen on this ſubject, you will give me leave to inform you of a Paſſion as real, as that you tell me of is imaginary. Rachel making no doubt but he ſpoke of himſelf, was mortally afraid her Rival ſhould hear the Declaration ſhe thought he would make: And to ſave her the trouble of it, would have preſently with­drawn, but for fear of diſcouraging him, ſhe alter'd her mind. Her Brother coming lucki­ly in, help'd her out of the perplexity ſhe was in, but not out of the impatience ſhe was under, to hear the Declaration expected. Not long after ſhe found him alone, and inſenſi­bly fell into the diſcourſe he begun when the Brother interrupted them. St. Aubin very glad to ſerve his Friend, ſpoke ſo much to the Gentlemans advantage, and deſcrib'd to the life the Paſſion he had for her, that Rachel could not forbear ſighing out, Cruel Man that you are, how is it poſſible you that have ſo little ſenſe of Love, ſhould ſo powerfully per­ſwade others to it? She was ſo aſham'd, ha­ving let fall theſe words, that ſhe retired, without giving him time to anſwer; and griev'd at heart for his inſenſibility, ſhe gave free paſſage to her tears, the uſual comfort of thoſe of her Sex. Her Siſter, who ſtudi­ed every moment how to conquer his obſtinate indifference, thought to do it by her libera­lity. 46St. Aubin not ſo well able to diſguiſe as his Sex, or not ſo careful to do it, had often ſaid he admir d the rare Workmanſhip of ſome Table Linnen ſhe had ſhown him: She preſented him with it; and though he made very ſhy of accepting it, ſhe pray'd him ſo earneſtly, on pretence he might have need of it in the Army, that ſhe forc'd him to take it. After this ſhe would have made a­nother preſent of a Locket of Diamonds, which ſhe could not perſwade him to receive, but he could not refuſe a very curious Toi­lette Rachel beſtow'd on him. There was news about that time, that the Commander of the Muſqueteers had Order from the King to lead his Detachment to Paris. This put Rachel and her Siſter in a fearful Conſterna­tion: The latter was pretty well ſatisfied, becauſe her Rival being the handſomer and younger, had met with no better Fortune than ſhe: But Rachel was ſo troubled at it, the very thoughts of St. Aubin's abſence almoſt diſtracted her; and judging no misfortune equal to that of loſſing him, ſhe cast about how to keep him near her. The Orders for their marching ſuddenly away, afflicted her extreamly; for believing ſhe had fortune large enough to make her a Muſqueteers Wife, ſhe made no doubt out St. Aubin would glad­ly marry her, could ſhe but have time to get her Friends conſent, who were already under ſome Ingagement of marrying her to a young Man of Amſterdam, and very conſi­derable. But not daring to expoſe her Love47 to the uncertain ſucceſs of a haſty Negotiation, ſhe took a reſolution, the moſt hardy and bold a perſon of her Sex cou'd be capable of, and pray'd her Brother to go along with her to her Uncle, who was her Guardian. Be­ing alone with them two, who were her neareſt Relations, and intruſted to diſpoſe of her, ſhe fell down at their feet; and having en­deavour'd to ſweeten them by a Pream­ble not much to the purpoſe, ſhe declared to them ſhe had been ſo unfortunate, as to yield to St. Aubin, upon his Promiſe to Mar­ry her, but was afraid he would leave her without making her his Wife: that ſhe had rather die than live diſhonour'd, and begg'd their pardon, and that at the ſame time they would diſpatch her out of the World, or af­ford her their neceſſary aſſiſtances to make him repair her Honour.

The Brother having a real eſteem for St. Aubin, could have been very well content to have him for his Brother in-law, and excus'd his Siſter ſo well, that the Uncle, who had threatned to forſake her, joyn'd with them to agree upon the means to ſettle the Affair. Rachel blind with Paſſion, told them the on­ly way to do it, was to ſurprize them a-bed together, and perſwade or force him pre­ſently to marry her. This appear'd ſo eaſie they promis'd to do it; and having a­greed of the time to put it in execution, Rachel at the hour went into St. Aubin's Chamber, and having found him a-bed (as ſhe had fore-caſt) ſhe threw off her Night-gown48 and laid her by him, telling him, if he thought her too forward in doing thus, he muſt thank himſelf, who had put her in a condi­tion to conſider neither what was decent nor reaſonable. St. Aubin would have got out of Bed, and would not have been ſtaid there, but for the noiſe the Uncle and Bro­ther made as they entred the Chamber with Piſtols in their Hands: they came to the Bed-ſide, and having drawn the Curtain, found, to their aſtoniſhment, the Bed-fellows were both of a Sex; and Rachel perceiving her miſtake in having lov'd a Woman, un­der the diſguiſe of a Muſqueteer, was ama­zed to that extremity, ſhe could hardly be brought to her ſelf: But convinc'd by Ex­perience, ſhe confeſt to her Relations, that the fear ſhe had to loſe that lovely Maid, whom ſhe thought a Man, had ſeiz'd her with that violence, that to aſſure her ſelf of him, ſhe forced her ſelf to declare he had robb'd her of her Honour. St. Aubin con­founded at the Adventure, inſtantly begg'd them to keep it ſecret, telling them how much he was concern'd it ſhould not be diſ­cover'd; and adding, he would be reven­ged of them if they divulged it. They were oblig'd to ſilence by common Intereſt, and the Muſqueteers marching away the next day, St. Aubin ſaw himſelf at liberty, and well-rid of the Raileries and Reproaches of his Hoſteſſes.

49At his return to Paris, he ſaw Marmon, who long'd for his coming; and to pleaſe him, St. Aubin made him a faithful Relation of what he had ſeen ſince parting, not forget­ting the leaſt Circumſtance of what happen­ed at Maſtricht. Marmon took occaſion to renew his requeſt, that she would ſave her ſelf thoſe toilſome Fatigues, and appear in a habit ſuitable to her Sex, if she could not reſume the inclinations proper to it. St. Aubin to oblige him, promiſed after one Campaign more to retire, being unwilling to quit the ſervice without engaging an Enemy, for which this Campaign had not afforded opportunity.

St. Aubin being quarter'd at the Hoſtel de Noſtre Dame, the Baron of Quincy, who lodg­ed there, ſurpris'd at the good account St. Au­bin gave of the Campaign, deſired to be ac­quainted with him; and having made ſome Overtures for the purpoſe, found the Muſ­queteer ſo glad of it, that they became very good Friends. The Baron, little acquainted with the Women of Paris, went to a Flemiſh ladies houſe who attended a ſuit of Law there, and preſenting St. Aubin to her, as a Perſon of Merit, ſpoke much to his advan­tage. This Lady being the Marchioneſs de Belabre, judging all other things ſuitable to St. Aubin's good Meen, received him very kind­ly, and gave the Baron thanks for bringing him to her.

50The Lady was ſo pleas'd with this firſt Viſit, that St. Aubin return'd frequently thi­ther, ſometimes with the Baron, and often without him, much delighted with the Inge­nious Converſation of the Marchioneſs. Theſe Viſits gave him opportunity of being acquain­ted with two or three Gentlemen of the beſt Quality; it was the time of the Carna­val, and one night they deſir'd the Marchio­neſs to go to a Ball: She refus'd it at firſt as a thing improper for one Lady to go a­long with three Men. One preſently told her she need only dreſs St. Aubin in Maids Habit, which could not chuſe but become him well enough, being ſo pretty a Youth. This was ſo generally approv'd, that the Mar­chioneſs preſently took St. Aubin by the hand, led him into her Wardrobe, where she gave him a Maids Habit very fit for him, and went out to give St. Aubin time to dreſs himſelf, and return'd by and by to put him on a Tour. This Dreſs appear'd ſo natural and agreeable to his Countenance and Stature, that the Marchioneſs and Gentlemen admir'd it. They went to ſeveral Balls, and were very well received. They were told there was one at Monſieur Strasbourg's, where was very good Company: thither they went, and found ſo great a number of Perſons of Quality, they could ſcarce get entrance. Monſieur Stras­bourg, Who had heard talk of the Marchio­neſs of Belabre, and was told it was she, re­ceived her with a great deal of Civility; and ſeeing her Companion very handſome, he ſpoke to one of the Company to take her51 forth to Dance, which she did ſo well, that the Marchioneſs and her Company were migh­tily ſurpriz'd. Every one took her for a Flemin, and made no further inquiry. The Baron of Angoſſe being at this Ball, remem­bred he had ſeen her at Bayonne, and ha­ving taken a ſtrict view of her, knew her to be Madamoiſelle d' Meyrac: He came to her, and Complemented, telling her how glad he was to ſee her at Paris. As ready as her Wit was, ſhe could not forbear bluſhing a lit­tle; yet ſhe anſwer'd confidently enough, ſhe underſtood not his meaning, and that he was certainly miſtaken. D'Angoſſe begg'd her par­don, and retired. The Marchioneſs, and the Gentleman who Uſher'd her, laugh'd at the Ad­venture, and were extremely well pleas'd at the good ſucceſs of St. Aubin's diſguiſe. D' Angoſſe perceiving they laugh'd at his miſtake, and concern'd to find the truth, went down to in­quire for the Marchioneſſes Servants, and ha­ving found one of them, pray'd him to let him know the Gentlewomans Name who was with his Lady. The Fleming for anſwer laugh'd in his Face, and ſo heartily, 'twas long e're he could ſpeak: At length he told him 'twas a Boy in Maids Habit. D' Angoſſe returned to the Dancing-room, and making up cloſe to that handſome Perſon, told him he had now learnt what he was; but that all who ſaw him in that Habit, and knew the Gentlewoman he had ſpoken to him of, would have certainly miſtaken him for her; and that if he were minded to divert himſelf, he might meet with many pleaſant52dventures, if he would go in that Habit to ſome Ladies of Bearn, where he offer'd to conduct him. St. Aubin thank'd him, and ſaid very coldly, he was not of an humour to deceive any Body. Preſently after the Ball ended, and all return'd. The Marchioneſs was ſo pleas'd with this Nights Adventures, ſhe pray'd the Gentlemen, eſpecially St. Au­bin, to come again, and go on the like Fro­lick. But Marmon having heard by one of his Country-men, that there was ſeen at a Ball a young Fleming, the very Picture of Chriſtina, and that ever ſince, two Gentle­men of Be rn, run with d' Angoſſe all over the Town, from one Ball to another, to meet him, he went to his Couſin St. Aubin's to car­ry him the news. St. Aubin to diſabuſe him, acquainted him with all that paſs'd at Mon­ſieur Strasbourg's; and that he might hand­ſomely diſingage himſelf from viſiting the Marchioneſs, he feign'd himſelf ſick. By this time Lent was come, and preparation muſt be made for the Campaign. The King notwithſtanding the rigour of the ſeaſon, ſet out the fifth of April to Beſiege Conde, and the Morrow after he arriv'd in the Camp, the Trenches were open'd. Three days af­ter the Muſqueteers were commanded to take a half-Moon, and behaved themſelves ſo brave­ly, that having beat off the Enemy, they entred the Town, which was taken by Aſ­ſault, and not by Compoſition, as many be­liev d His Majeſty's Clemency (who was content to make the Troops he found in Gar­riſon Priſoners of War, without taking the53 advantages of Victory againſt thoſe unfortu­nate Perſons who did their duty very well) rais'd that report. St. Aubin and Marmon ſignaliz'd themſelves in this ſervice; the for­mer received a ſlight wound in the Arm, and Marmon had the good fortune to take Priſoner an Italian Captain, whom he ſeiz'd by his hair: And having been ſhot in the Arm, he held him faſt with the other, and brought him to the King, who was at the Head of the Trenches. His Majeſty having commended the Action, promiſed to have a particular care of his Fortune, and ordered they ſhould be very careful of his Cure.

The morrow all the wounded men were carried to Fournay, and Marmon much more troubled for his Couſins Wound than his own, had the ſatisfaction to ſee it was not dangerous; and St. Aubin told him he would not have gone to Fournay but to take care of him, expreſſing extreme ſatisfaction to have been an Eye-witneſs of his Valour in this a­ction. Marmon taking advantage of ſo fa­vourable an occaſion minded St. Aubin of his promiſe to recompence his perſeverance if ſupported by ſome glorious action. St. Aubin without giving him leave to finiſh, pray'd him only to have a care of being cu­red as ſoon as poſſible, aſſuring him he was very ſenſible of his misfortune, and had a very great eſteem for him, adding (for his com­fort) other very obliging diſcourſe. Mar­mon was ſo well pleaſed with it, thoſe that ſaw him ſaid he was viſibly much better:54 However it was his fate to die two days af­ter, as moſt of thoſe did who had been hurt at the Siege, tho' their Wounds appeared not dangerous. St. Aubin who was almoſt well of his Wound was ſo troubled for Marmon's Death, that he reſolved to continue in the ſervice to avoid the reproaches of Marmon's Friends who knew St. Aubin had ingaged him to liſt himſelf a Soldier, and would cer­tainly lay the loſs of him to his charge. The grief this put him to, occaſion'd by ſome in­clination and a great deal of eſteem and ac­knowledgment he had for Marmon, retard­ded his cure and kept him long at Four­nay.

The Baron of Quincy having Commiſſion to raiſe a Regiment of Horſe at Fournay, met St. Aubin at the Governours; where he ſhew­ed him a great deal of civility, and finding him ſomewhat unwilling to go again among the Muſqueteers becauſe of his Couſin's Death, offer'd him a Company in his Regi­ment. St. Aubin accepted it, and aſſiſted the Colonel in making the Levies, the Regiment was not long in raiſing; the Baron who for good Reaſons had lately quitted the ſervice of Spain, having given notice to the Officers of his Regiment in Garriſon at Mons, that he was raiſing a new one for the ſervice of France, and thoſe under his command when he ſerved Spain, were ſo ſatisfied with his perſon and con­duct, that moſt of the Troops and ſeveral of the Officers deſerted the Spaniard to meet their Co­lonel at Fournay. This Regiment being com­poſed of men of that Country, who were better55 acquainted than ſtrangers with the Roads, was frequently imployed upon Parties: they acquitted themſelves ſo well, that they never fail'd of certain News of the Enemy upon occaſion. St. Aubin always ambitious of Glory, having had good ſucceſs in two or three Par­ties, never fail'd to make one among them though he were not commanded. The Spa­niards vext at the advantages daily gain'd by the French Parties, eſpecially thoſe of Quin­cy's Regiment, that the Governour of Valen­ciennes had order to lay an ambuſcade for them; and did it ſo effectually, that of a party of thirty nine Troopers commanded by a Lieutenant, twenty two were taken, and the reſt kill'd or fled. St. Aubin who ſerv'd there as a Volunteer was one of the Priſoners: they were all carried to the Army, where the Duke De Villa Hermoſa who was gone to Bruſſels had left the Marqueſs d' Oſſeyra general of the Artillery Commander in chief in his abſence. The Marqueſs called a Council of War, to adviſe what ſhould be done to the Priſoners, ſeveral of which, and particularly the Lieutenant, who commanded them were known to be deſerters. It was reſolved the Troopers (on condition they would ſerve Spain again) ſhould be pardoned, as having been debauch'd by their Officers. But as for the Officers, for terrour to others, they were all condemned to be hang'd as Deſerters. St. Aubin, though not taken in that quali­ty, was carried away as involved in the con­demnation, the Troopers having declared he was an Officer: The Council being broke56 up, they ſent a Confeſſor to every one of the condemn'd. St. Aubin was frighted at the Horror of ſo ſhameful a Death, and to e­ſcape it, was upon the Point of declaring who he was; yet he could not find in his heart to expoſe himſelf to be laught at by the whole Army, his modeſty prevailing over his fear; he prepar'd for Death with an he­roick Courage. The Army was drawn up in Battalia, and theſe unfortunate Priſoners were brought to the Gibbet: The Lieutenant be­ing hang'd, St. Aubin frightned at the ap­prehenſion of ſo infamous a Death, deſired to ſpeak with the General, who to give re­putation to ſo exemplary a Puniſhment coun­tenanced it with his preſence. The Marqueſs approached him, and ſurpriz'd at the good meen of the Criminal, whoſe face he thought himſelf not altogether a ſtranger to, he heard him with compaſſion. St. Aubin ſo clearly made out the injuſtice they would have done him, by violating the Law of War in his Perſon, who had never been in the ſervice of Spain, that the Officers fearful of like u­ſage, if taken by the French began to mur­mur. The Marqueſs perceiving it, and un­willing a mutiny should rob him of the glo­ry of ſaving St. Aubin, haſten'd the ſetting him at liberty.

The Army was ſo ſatisfied with this piece of Juſtice, ſcarce any Officer of Note but waited on the Marqueſs to give him thanks: And as we uſually love thoſe we have obli­ged, the General was ſo pleas'd with his ſaving St. Aubin, that he took him to his Quarters,57 and finding he had all Accomplishments of a Perſon of Quality, he kept him in his Houſe, and treated him with all the kindneſs and e­ſteem he could have shew'd the beſt of his Friends. The Marqueſs being the ſame who had been in Love with Chriſtina at Saragoſa, was ſo chang'd ſince that time, and ſo diſ­guiz'd by his great Spaniſh Muſtaches, that S. Aubin at preſent knew no more of him but the Name: But afterwards having recollected himſelf, he found his Deliverer was the ſame who had been his Ancient Contrade, and firſt Lover. He was ſo pleas'd to owe his life to this Illuſtrious Marqueſs, that he reſolv'd to ſtick to him, and forbear writing, to unde­ceive his Friends who had heard he was dead. The Marqueſs alſo remembring S. Aubin had much of the Air of Chriſtina, and asking if he were not related to her, for fear of being diſcover'd, he confeſt he was his Brother. The Marqueſs imbrac'd him, and with a deep ſigh ſaid, he could never forget his Siſter, though ſhe had given him cauſe enough, in making the Letter he had written to her a Sacrifice to her Husband; and that he could never have reſolved with himſelf to love a­ny other, till he had heard of her Marriage.

The memory of Chriſtina, the merit of St. Aubin, and particularly his ſpeaking Spaniſh ſo well, procur'd him every day new marks of the generoſity of the Marqueſs. The Generals ſoon after marched towards Bruſſels, and the Marqueſs D' Oſſeyra being in Love with the Counteſs of Benavidez, a young Spaniſh Lady newly arriv'd with her Husband in Flanders,58 went frequently to her Houſe, and would oblige her by bringing her a French Gentleman who was excellent Company, and a great Ma­ſter of the Spaniſh Tongue. The Counteſs, who ſeldom ſaw any French, was ſo pleas'd with the Novelty and handſom Meen of the Gentleman that ſhe received him very kindly; and having told him ſhe was extremely deſirous to learn a little French, and S. Aubin having as frankly offer'd to teach it her, ſhe pray'd him to come to her every day at an hour. The Marqueſs making no doubt but S. Aubin might be very ſerviceable to him in his Amour, made him acquainted with it, and conjur'd him to do him this piece of ſervice with all the zeal and diligence in his power, in confidence he would be extremely ſenſible of the obligation. This was enough for S. Aubin, who beſides the tye of gratitude he was under, felt in himſelf a vio­lent inclination to undertake for his Friend the moſt difficult Enterprize. In the mean time, he thought he had ſeen the Counteſs before; but not daring to truſt his Eyes, nor relye on her Teſtimony, he ask'd an old Chamber Maid if her Miſtreſs had ever been at Saragoſa: When ſhe anſwer'd the Counteſs was born there, and that ſhe was the Daughter of Don Franciſco Cortez, S. Aubin was convinc'd he was not miſtaken, when he took her for Zeraphine, his good Friend, and pretended Miſtreſs, in the Convent of Ʋrſuline's. The Counteſs too, ſhe thought ſhe had ſeen a Per­ſon that had the Air of that Gentleman, but not being ſure of it, she never ſpoke to him of it: Beſides, ſhe was ſo taken with him, she59 would have been troubled had she found out her miſtake. The Paſſion of the Marqueſs increaſed daily; it rejoyced his heart to ſee S. Aubin return'd to bring him News of his Scholar; and when he perceived him high in her favour, he declar'd to him the violence of his Paſſion, and intreated him to imploy for his advantage the Credit he had with her. St. Aubin, who was deadly afraid of the Progreſs of this Paſſion, did all he could to divert his Friend from it, giving him very clear Reaſons how improbable it was to gain the affections of a Lady, who had to her Husband ſo lovely and handſome a Gentle­man as the Count Benavidez, and lov'd him intirely. But the difficulties he endeavour­ed to repreſent to the Marqueſs, proved but Oyl to his Flames, and St. Aubin could not avoid promiſing him all the ſervice that lay in his power: But the endeavours he us'd in favour of his Friend, produced a contrary effect; for the young Counteſs having ſtrong inclinations for St. Aubin, found her Paſſion increaſe by his frequent Viſits: This ſet her mind a roving, and ſhe took that pleaſure to look upon him as he taught her Leſ­ſons, that ſhe was a whole Week learning the Verb Aimer, to Love. And making as if ſhe thought it a very pretty word, but hard to be remembred, ſhe ſpent ſeveral hours in making her Maſter repeat the firſt Perſon of it, I Love. She affected this repetition ſo of­ten, that St. Aubin believ'd she loved him in good earneſt, and reſolved to apply himſelf to pleaſe her, to prevent her anſwering60 the Paſſion of the Marqueſs; and incline him to quit it, by letting him ſee she could love a­nother. Fortune afforded him an occaſion, which contributed very much to heighten the Paſſion of the Counteſs, and the good O­pinion she already had of her Maſter. One of the Counteſſes Women being grievouſly tormented with the Tooth-ach, and fancy­ing all ſtrangers skilful in one Myſtery or o­ther, applied her ſelf to St. Aubin, and with incredible confidence, and a moſt aſſured Faith, pray'd remedy from him. He pre­ſently anſwer'd, he could infallibly cure her: And having touch'd the aking Tooth with his Fingers end, and ſaid two or three bar­barous Words, whether this Maid was cur'd by conceit, or that her pain naturally ceaſed, she came to give him thanks for having wrought her Cure. The Counteſs wondring at the quick Effect of the remedy he had us'd, took that occaſion to commend him who had apply'd it, who having the know­ledge of ſuch conſiderable ſecrets concealed with ſo much modeſty. S. Aubin taking ad­vantage of her Credulity, told her, he knew many ſecrets far more conſiderable; and that by looking on ones hand, be could tell all that should happen to that perſon: Women are naturally curious. This Lady adding im­patience to her curioſity, pray'd him inſtant­ly to look in her hand, and tell her what he knew by it. St. Aubin, without further in­treaty, fixt his eye upon it, and having long been this Ladies Confident in Spain, and known her privat'ſt inclinations, he eaſily61 told her an infinite number of things that ap­pear'd admirable to her, by his giving her an account of the particulars of ſeveral Adven­tures of her life; and above all, how she had been in danger of punishment for a Crime she had not committed, and of being buried alive as a Proſtitute Veſtal. The Counteſs was extream­ly ſurpriz'd at every word he ſaid; and when he had done ſpeaking, she confeſt all he had ſaid was very true. This was not ſufficient to ſatisfie her curioſity; she had no ſooner heard what was paſt, but she was willing to know what was to come, and conjur'd him with that earneſtneſs to tell her what should befal her, that he was obliged to promiſe the doing it another day, praying her to allow him a little time to think on't: But upon conditi­on she should keep it private without ſpeak­ing a word of it, for he had no mind to be ta­ken for a man that medled in ſuch matters. Things being thus agreed, he preſently with­drew, and shortly after went into the Mar­queſſes Chamber, where he found him buſie writing a Letter to the Counteſs, which he pray'd St. Aubin to read, and tell him what he thought of it. It was in Spaniſh, but ſo well expreſt, it is impoſſible to tranſlate it, with­out loſing much of the Beauty and Energy of the Original. Let it ſuffice, that we know 'twas well writ, and that the Marqueſs would have put it upon his Friend to deliver it. St. Aubin, though very loath to undertake it, could not refuſe him, but repreſented ſo dex­trouſly the inconveniences that would at­tend his preſenting it, and made the Mar­queſs62 ſo ſenſible how fearful he was it would too much diſcover his being ingag'd in his fa­vour, and deprive him of the means to do him more conſiderable ſervices, that the Marqueſs was convinc'd, and found another expedient for conveying the Letter to his Miſtreſs, who thought the time long while St. Aubin return­ed, not only for the pleaſure she took in his Company, but the paſſionate deſire she had to know her Fortune. St. Aubin came at the u­ſual hour to teach her her Leſſon, but before she would fall to it, her Curioſity muſt be ſa­tisfied St. Aubin was prepar'd what to ſay, and being concern'd, to divert her from en­tertaining kind thoughts for the Marqueſs, he reſolved to diſſwade her from loving him, upon pretence the Stars were againſt it: And having aſſured her of very high Fortune, and Honours proportionable, he told her the Pla­nets threatned her with a misfortune of being twice ſuſpected to hold ſcandalous Correſpon­dence and that the ſuſpicion would be ſo ſtrong, she should be in danger of her life, but that she ſhould at laſt appear Innocent, and more glorious for her ſufferings: But are you ſure ſays the Counteſs, I ſhall not loſe my life? Mine for yours, Madam, anſwers St. Aubin; and I obſerve you have already eſcaped one of your dangers, and I ſee nothing can di­ſturb your happineſs but the like influence of your Planet that threatens you at preſent. This ſignifies, as the Rules of my Art tells me, that a Perſon of Quality of your Country shall be in Love with you, and do extraordinary things to pleaſe you, and make you ſenſible63 of his Paſſion; and if he prevails, you are to expect a long Train of misfortunes and diſa­ſters. The Counteſs judgings of what he ſaid should happen, by what she had heard him ſay of what was paſt, never doubted the truth of his Prediction, and reſolved never to Love Spaniard but her Husband. Two days after, the Marqueſs having ſound a means to have his Letter delivered, was not a little ſurprized to ſee she had ſent it back, without having read it, but expreſt great indignati­on for his boldneſs. You cannot imagine how much the Marqueſs was troubled at the ill Fortune of his Letter; and not knowing what other comfort to have, went in ſearch of his Friend to make his complaint to him, and deſire his advice. S. Aubin glad at Heart for the good iſſue of the Game he had plaid, bid him not be diſcourag'd: And to let him ſee how much he was concern'd for him, he of­fered to make the Counteſs and him very good Friends again. The poor diſtreſſed Marqueſs was ſo pleas'd with the thoughts of the pro­mis'd Accommodation, that St. Aubin to ob­lige him went to the Counteſs, and prayed her to be reconcil'd, and receive him into fa­vour, aſſuring her, that the Billet she fanci­ed ſo Criminal, contained only four Verſes. 'Tis eaſie for thoſe who are beloved, to perſwade; the Counteſs, who had paſſionate kindneſs for St. Aubin, granted his requeſt: And to give him a fresh inſtance of her Complaiſance, she promis'd to admit of his Friends Excuſes, as she very well might, be­ing really not much offended with him. The64 Marqueſs made ſeveral ſorry Excuſes, which paſt for good; but the diſorder he appear'd in, gave the Counteſs a clearer account of what was written in the Billet, than the read­ing of it would have done: And had ſhe not been too much poſſeſt with the fear of S. Au­bin's Predictions, ſhe had managed this Affair to better advantage: But her fear made her ſtand upon her Guard, and avoid all occaſions of being found alone with the Marqueſs, or giving him opportunity to acquaint her with his Paſſion. St. Aubin appear'd every day more lovely than other, and ſhe made diſcovery of ſo many good qualities in him, that ſhe could not forbear praiſing him in her Husbands preſence; who having obſerved the pleaſure his Wife took in ſpeaking of him, and ſometimes very little to the purpoſe, and oftner far than ſhe was aware of, he began to ſuſpect: And ha­ving watch'd the Counteſs more narrowly, he found this ſtranger, under pretence of teach­ing his Wife French, was grown very fami­liar with her. Jealouſie made the moſt Inno­cent Actions appear Criminal, and the Count reſolv'd to break off their Acquaintance: But having liv'd very lovingly with his Wife, he was unwilling to expreſs his Reſentments, but took a time to tell her, that though he had a good opinion of her Conduct, he feared the Spaniſh Ladies would not think well of it: And ſince she had a mind to learn French, 'twere better for her to take a French Woman into her Family. The Counteſs was extremely diſpleas'd at the advice, though she made as if ſhe approved it; but though ſhe promis'd65 to follow it, ſhe continued taking her Leſ­ſons from St. Aubin, telling the Count, 'twas only that ſhe might not forget what ſhe had learnt, while ſhe could provide her ſelf of a Maid. It went againſt the Heart of her to part with a Maſter that pleas'd her ſo well; and becauſe she was under a neceſſity to obey, she reſolved to make uſe of her time. As ſoon as St. Aubin return'd to her, she acquainted him with the Jealouſie of the Count her Hus­band, and that she had never given him cauſe to ſuſpect her Conduct. Her duty, fortified by a ſtrong inclination for him, having al­ways made her abhor all unfaithfulneſs to him: Yet she never thought to have found her re­ſolutions ſo ineffectual, but she ſaw her ſelf under the neceſſity of yielding to an incli­nation involuntary and long check'd, but in vain. St. Aubin relying on the modeſty of the Lady, thought it the duty of a Civil Gentleman to take advantage of her diſorder, by preſſing her a little faintly: But he found her ſo unexpectedly coming and kind, that he ſmarted for the ſmall advances he made, and ſaw he muſt uſe clearer and more paſſio­nate Expreſſions. And as the Lady unwilling her Compliance should be wholly uſeleſs, and thrown away upon him, reproached him with ingratitude for the favour she had shewed him. The Count having heard all behind a Hang­ing, came forth with his Poiniard in his hand to ſtab his Wife, if St. Aubin with laying his hand on his Sword had not hindred him by a vigorous reſiſtance; and ſeeing the Count ready to go call in his Servants to66 his Aid, choſe rather to hazard the diſco­very of his Sex, than expoſe that unfor­tunate Lady to ſo many inconveniences, and himſelf to ruin. He pray'd him (before he would make any more noiſe, or call in his People) to have the patience to hear him a moment: And to convince him he had ſomething conſiderable to ſay to him, he laid his Sword at his feet, and himſelf at his diſcretion. The Generous Spaniard ſeeing his Enemy diſarm'd, became more tractable, and permitted him to ſpeak. St. Aubin told him, it was for the Counteſſes Intereſt and his, the Count should be undeceiv'd, by the diſco­very of a ſecret he had reſolved to conceal all his Life. With that St. Aubin declared him­ſelf to be a Woman: and that in Spain under her true Name Chriſtina, she was intimate­ly acquainted with the Counteſs, and her very good Friend; that ſince that, a vio­lent paſſion for Arms had engaged her in the Kings ſervice in the Wars, which was ſo agreeable to her inclination, that she hop'd he was too Generous to diſcover the ſecret she acquainted him with, when she had decla­red to him the conſequence of it. The Count could hardly be ſatisfied with the bare words of Chriſtina; but his Lady up­on hearing the ſtory, and Name of Chri­ſtina, having recovered her Spirits, and ta­king advantage of her Husbands diſorder, perſwaded him she very well knew who Chriſtina was; and having reproached him for the ill Opinion he had of her Conduct, ſhe took her turn to run into paſſion; and her anger67 which her Husband thought real, and ſeveral other Circumſtances a great deal more true, e­ſpecially the relation of what paſs'd in the Convent, put an end to all his ſuſpicions. He beg­g'd his Wives pardon, and thought, in favour of her chaſtity he remembr'd ſeveral particulars he had never heard of. He went out, to give them time to come to themſelves again, out of the fear he had put them in. The Counteſs being recovered of the fright ſhe had been in for her Gallant, and her ſelf, continued a while under a grievous Confuſion to find her ſelf decei­ved: However she expreſt her ſelf very joyful to ſee her old Friend, but not without reproach­ing her; for that by concealing her Name, she had expos'd her to weakneſſes, no other in the World could have made her fall in­to. St. Aubin was ſo perplext, he knew not what to anſwer. The Marqueſs, in the mean time, not able to Maſter his Paſſion for the Counteſs, whom he hop'd to work upon by his perſeverance, and the aſſiſtance of his Friend, had by his Liberalities gain­ed one of her Women, who gave him an account of all that paſt in the Houſe: And having obſerved St. Aubin uſing his Miſtreſs with a familiarity unfit for any other Per­ſon, she thought it might be an acceptable ſervice to the Marqueſs, if she watch'd them more narrowly. St. Aubin coming one day to the Counteſſes before she was up, was ſent for into her Chamber, and made ſit on her Bed; and that they might diſcourſe more freely, the Counteſs bid her Maids quit the Room. This liberty, though ordinary in68 France, appear'd to the Marqueſſes Penſioner ſo Criminal in a Spaniſh Lady, that ſhe thought he would be very well pleas'd to know it, and went inſtantly to tell it him. The Mar­queſs, no leſs Jealous than Amorous, was ſo ſurpriz'd at the ſtory, he was vext at the heart: and his Jealouſie perſwading him more than he had heard, he reſolved to be revenged upon his Trayterous Friend for all the ill uſage he had received from his Miſtreſs, not doubting but he had contri­buted a great deal to it. A ſecret inclina­tion, he knew not the cauſe of, but attribu­ted to the remains of Reſpect and Kindneſs he ſtill had for the Brother of a Perſon he had lov'd above any, render'd his reſolu­tions uncertain and ineffectual. Yet cal­ling to mind how he had oblig'd him, and made him his Confident, and that St. Aubin had upon his word engaged to do him the beſt ſervice he could with the Counteſs, he thought no Reſentment too ſevere for a Tray­tor. But not finding in his heart to violate the Law of Nations, by taking a revenge un­worthy his Quality and Honour, he reſolved to ſight him fairly, in hopes to diſarm him; and without further puniſhment, than to re­proach him with his ingratitude. Having met him an hour after, he fell upon him briskly, without making any words. St. Au­bin defended himſelf, but as a Man who would only ward off the blows of his Ad­verſary, without doing him hurt. The Mar­queſs making at him, with deſign to ſeize his Sword, dangerouſly wounded him. Upon that69 they were parted, and the Count Benavidez coming in, order'd St. Aubin to be carried home to his Houſe; and fearing his Wound more dangerous than it prov'd, he could not forbear ſending for the Marqueſs, and tel­ling him the Name and Sex of the Perſon whoſe life he had indanger'd.

The End of the firſt part.

THE SECOND PART OF THE Heroine Muſqueteer: OR, THE Female Warriour. A TRUE HISTORY. Very delightful, and full of Pleaſant Adventures in the Compaignes of 1676, and 1677.

Tranſlated out of French.

LONDON, Printed in the Year MDCC.


THE Heroine Muſqueteer: