 5. A dispute very learnedly handled by two ladies, in which the reader may take what part he pleases. Mr. Glanville, who was too much in love to pass the night with any great degree of tranquility under the apprehensions he felt, it being the nature of that passion to magnify the most inconsiderable trifles into things of the greatest importance when they concerned the beloved object, did not fail to torment himself with a thousand different fears, which the mysterious behavior of his father and the more mysterious words of his mistress gave rise to. Among many various conjectures, all equally unreasonable, he fixed upon one, no way advantageous to Sir Charles for supposing that the folly of Arabella had really disgusted him and made him desirous of breaking off the designed match between them. He was, as he thought, taking measures to bring this about, knowing that if Lady Bella refused to fulfill her father's desire in this particular, a very considerable estate would descend to him. Upon any other occasion, Mr. Glanville would not have suspected his father of so ungenerous an action, but loverous think everything possible which they fear, and being pre-possessed with this opinion, he resolved the next morning to sound his father's inclinations by entreating him to endeavor to prevail upon Lady Bella to marry him before her year of mourning for the marquee was expired. Attending him, therefore, at breakfast in his own chamber, he made his design request not without heedfully observing his countenance at the same time, and trembling lest he should make him an answer that might confirm his uneasy suspicion. Sir Charles, however, agreeably surprised him by promising to comply with his desire that day. For, added he, though my niece has some odd ways, yet upon the whole she is a very accomplished woman, and when you are her husband you may probably find the means of curing her of those little follies which at present are conspicuous enough. But being occasioned by the country education and a perfect ignorance of the world, the instructions which then you will not scruple to give her, and which, from a husband without any offence to her delicacy she may receive, may reform her contact, and make her behavior as complete as it must be confessed, both her person and mind now are. After Glanville, having acquiesced in the justice of this remark, as soon as breakfast was over, went to visit the two ladies, who generally drank their chocolate together. Miss Glanville being then in Lady Bella's apartment, he was immediately admitted, where he found them engaged in a high dispute, and, much against his will, was obliged to be arbitrator in the affair, they having, upon his entrance, both appealed to him. But, in order to place this momentous affair in a true light, it is necessary to go back a little and acquaint the reader with what had passed in the apartment, and also, following the custom of the romance and novel writers in the heart of our heroine. No sooner were her fair eyes open in the morning than the unfortunate Sir George presenting himself to her imagination, her thoughts to use Guderia's phrase, were at a cruel war with each other. She wished to prevent the death of this obsequious lover, but she could not resolve to preserve his life by giving him that hope he required, and without which, she feared, it would be impossible for him to live. After pondering a few hours upon the necessity of his case, and what a just regard to her own honor required of her, Decorum prevailed so much over compassion that she resolved to abandon the miserable Sir George to all the rigor of his destiny. When, happily for the disconsolate lover, the history of the fair Amala Zonta coming into her mind, she remembered that this haughty princess, having refused to marry the person her father recommended to her, because he had not a crown upon his head, nevertheless, when he was dying for love of her, condescended to visit him, and even to give him a little hope in order to preserve his life. She conceived it could be no blemish to her character, if she followed the example of this most glorious princess, and suffered herself to relax a little in her severity, to prevent the effects of her lover's despair. Fear not, Arabella, said she to herself, fear not to obey the dictates of thy compassion, since the glorious Amala Zonta justifies by her example the means thou wilt use to preserve a noble life, which depends upon a few words thou shalt utter. When she had taken this resolution, she rung her bell for her woman, and as soon as she was dressed, she dismissed them all but Lucy, whom she ordered to bring her paper and pens, telling her she would write an answer to Sir George's letter. Lucy obeyed with great joy, but by the time that she had brought her lady all the materials for writing, her mind was changed. She, having reflected that Amala Zonta, whose example in order to avoid the censure of future ages, she was resolved exactly to follow, did not write to Ambiomere, but paid him a visit. She resolved to do the like, and therefore bid Lucy take them away again, telling her she had thought better of it, and would not write to him. Lucy, extremely concerned at this resolution, obeyed her very slowly and with great seeming regret. I perceive, said Arabella, you are afraid I shall abandon the unfortunate man you solicit for to the violence of his despair. But though I do not intend to write to him, yet I'll make use of a method perhaps as effectual. For, to speak truly, I mean to make him a visit, but for by this time his fever is, I suppose, violent enough to make him keep his bed. And will you be so good, madam, said Lucy, to go and see the poor gentleman? I warrant you he will be ready to die for joy when he sees you. There must be proper precautions used, said Arabella, to prevent those consequences, which the sudden and unexpected sight of me may produce. Those about him, I suppose, will have discretion enough for that. Therefore give orders for the coach to be made ready, and tell my women they must attend me, and be sure you give them directions when I enter Sir George's chamber to stay at a convenient distance in order to leave me an opportunity of speaking to him without being heard. As for you, you may approach the bedside with me, since, being my confident, you may hear all we have to say. Arabella, having thus settled the ceremonial of her visit, according to the rules prescribed by Romances, sat down to her tea-table, having sent to know if Miss Glanville was up, and received for answer that she would attend her at breakfast. Arabella, who had at first determined to say nothing of this affair to her cousin, could not resist the desire she had of talking upon a subject so interesting. And, telling her with a smile, that she was about to make a very charitable visit that morning, asked her if she was disposed to bear her company in it. I know you country ladies, said Miss Glanville, are very fond of visiting your sick neighbors. For my part I do not love such a grave kind of amusement, yet for the sake of the airing I shall be very willing to attend you. I think, said Arabella, with a more serious air than before, it behooves every generous person to compassionate the misfortunes of their acquaintance and friends, and to relieve them as far as lies in their power. But those miseries we have ourselves occasioned to others demand in a more particular manner our pity, and if consistent with honour our relief. And pray, returned Miss Glanville, who is it you have done any mischief to, which you are to repair by this charitable visit, as you call it. The mischief I have done, replied Arabella, blushing, and casting down her eyes, was not voluntary, I assure you, yet I will not scruple to repair it if I can, though, since my power is confined by certain unavoidable laws, my endeavours may not happily have all the success I could wish. Well, but dear cousin, interrupted Miss Glanville, tell me in plain English what this mischief is which you have done, and to what purpose you are going out this morning. I am going to pay a visit to Sir George Belmore, replied Arabella, and I entreat you, fair cousin, to pardon me for robbing you of so accomplished a lover. I really always thought he was in love with you, till I was undeceived by some words he spoke yesterday, and a letter I received from him last night, in which he has been bold enough to declare his passion to me, and through the apprehension of my anger is this moment dying with grief, and tis to reconcile him to life that I have prevailed upon myself to make him a visit in which charitable design, as I said before, I should be glad of your company. Miss Glanville, who believed not a word Lady Belmore had said, burst out laughing, at a speech that appeared to her so extremely false and ridiculous. I see, said Arabella, you are of a humor to divert yourself with the miseries of a despairing lover, and in this particular you greatly resemble the fair and witty Dora Lisa, who always gested at such maladies as are occasioned by love. However, this insensibility does not become you so well as her, since all her conduct was conformable to it, no man in the world being bold enough to talk to her of love, but you, cousin, are ready, even by your own confession, to listen to such discourses from anybody, and therefore this behavior in you may be more with justice termed levity than indifference. I perceive, cousin, said Miss Glanville, I have always the worst of those comparisons you are pleased to make between me and other people, but I assure you, as free and indiscreet as you think me, I should very much scruple to visit a man upon any occasion whatever. I am quite astonished, Miss Glanville, resumed Arabella, to hear you assume a character of so much severity. You who have granted favors of a kind in a very great degree criminal. Favors, interrupted Miss Glanville, criminal favors, pray explain yourself, madam. Yes, cousin, said Arabella, I repeat it again, criminal favors such as allowing persons to talk to you of love, not forbidding them to write to you, giving them opportunities of being alone with you for several moments together, and several other civilities of the like nature which no man can possibly merit under many years' service, fidelity, and pains. All these are criminal favors and highly blameable in a lady who has any regard for her reputation. All these, replied Miss Glanville, are nothing in comparison to of making them visits, and no woman who has any reputation at all will be guilty of taking such liberties. What, Miss, replied Arabella, will you dare by this insinuation to cast any censures upon the virtue of the Divine Mandana, the Hari Amalazuntha, the Ferestatira, the Cold and Rigid Parasatis, and many other illustrious ladies who did not scruple to visit their lovers when confined to their beds either by the wounds they received in battle or the more cruel and dangerous ones they suffered from their eyes. These chaste ladies who never granted a kiss of their hand to a lover, till he was upon the point of being their husband, would nevertheless most charitably condescend to approach their bedside and speak some compassionate words to them in order to promote their cure and make them submit to live. Nay, these divine beauties would not refuse to grant the same favor to persons whom they did not love, to prevent the fatal consequences of their despair. Lord, madam, interrupted Miss Glanville, I wonder you can talk so blasphemously to cull a parcel of confident creatures divine and such terrible words. Do you know, Miss, said Arabella, with a stern luck, that tis of the greatest princesses that ever were whom you speak in this irreverent manner. Is it possible that you can be ignorant of the sublime quality of Mandana, who is the heiress of two powerful kingdoms? Are you not sensible that Amalazuntha was queen of Turingia? And will you pretend to deny the glorious extraction of Statira and Parasatis, princesses of Persia? I shall not trouble myself to deny anything about them, madam, said Miss Glanville, for I never heard of them before, and really I do not choose to be always talking of queens and princesses as if I thought none but sun's great people were worthy of my notice. It looks so affected, I should imagine everyone laughed at me that heard me. Since you are so very scrupulous, returned Arabella, that you dare not imitate the sublimest among mortals, I can furnish you with many examples from the conduct of persons whose quality was not much superior to yours, which may reconcile you to an action you yet present with so little reason condemn. And to name but one us among some thousands, the fair Cleonis, the most rigid austere beauty in all Sartis, paid several visits to the passionate Ligdomis, when his melancholy at the ill success of his passion threw him into a fever that confined him to his bed. And pray, madame, who was that Cleonis, said Miss Glanville, and where did she live? In Sartis, I tell you, said Arabella, in the kingdom of Lydia. Oh, then it is not in our kingdom, said Miss Glanville. What signifies what foreigners do? I shall never form my conduct upon the example of outlandish people. What is common enough in their countries would be very particular here, and you can never persuade me that it is seemly for ladies to pay visits to men in their beds. A lady, said Arabella, extremely angry at her cousin's obstinacy, who will suffer men to press her hand, write to her, and talk to her of love, ought to be ashamed of such an affected niceness as that you pretend to. I insist upon it, madame, said Miss Glanville, that all those innocent liberties you rail at may be taken by any woman without giving the world room to censure her. But without being very bold and impudent, she cannot go to see men in their beds, a freedom that only becomes a sister or a near relation. So then, resplied Arabella, reddening with vexation, you will persist in affirming the divine mandana was impudent. If she paid such indiscreet visits as those she was, said Miss Glanville. Oh, heavens, cried Arabella, have I lived to hear the most illustrious princess that ever was in the world so shamefully reflected on. Bless me, madame, said Miss Glanville, what reason have you to defend the character of this princess so much? She will hardly thank you for your pains, I fancy. Were you acquainted with the character of that most generous princess, said Arabella, you would be convinced that she was sensible of the smallest benefits. But it is not with a view of acquiring her favor that I defend her against your inhumanist versions, since it is more than two thousand years since she died, yet common justice obliges me to vindicate a person so illustrious for her birth and virtue, and were you not my cousin I should express my resentment in another manner for the injury you do her. Truly, said Miss Glanville, I am not much obliged to you, madame, for not downright quarreling with me for one that has been in her grave two thousand years. However, nothing shall make me change my opinion, and I am sure most people will be of my side of the argument. That moment Mr. Glanville, sending for permission to wait upon Arabella, she ordered him to be admitted, telling Miss Glanville she would acquaint her brother with the dispute to which she consented. End of Book 5, Chapter 1. Book 5, Chapter 2 of the Female Quixote, Volume 2. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Female Quixote, Volume 2 by Charlotte Lennox. Book 5, Chapter 2. Which inculcates by a very good example that a person ought not to be too hasty in deciding a question he does not perfectly understand. You are come very opportunely, sir, said Arabella when he entered the room, to be judged of a great controversy between Miss Glanville and myself. I beseech you therefore, let us have your opinion on the matter. Miss Glanville maintains that it is less criminal in a lady to hear persons talk to her of love, allow them to kiss her hand, and permit them to write to her, than to make a charitable visit to a man who is confined to his bed through the violence of his passion and despair, the intent of this visit being only to prevent the death of an unfortunate lover, and, if necessary, to lay her commands upon him to live. And this latter is your opinion, is it not, madam? said Mr. Glanville. Certainly, sir, replied Arabella, and in this I am justified by all the heroines of antiquity. Then you must be in the right, madam, returned Mr. Glanville, both because your own judgment tells you so, and also the example of these heroines you mention. Well, madam, interrupted Miss Glanville hastily, since my brother has given sentence on your side, I hope you will not delay your visit to Sir George any longer. How, said Mr. Glanville, surprised, is Lady Bella going to visit Sir George? Pray, madam, may I presume to inquire the reason for your doing him this extraordinary favour. You are not very wise, said Arabella, looking gravely upon Miss Glanville, to discover a thing which may happily create a quarrel between your brother and the unfortunate person you speak of. Yet since this indiscretion cannot be recalled, we must endeavor to prevent the consequences of it. I assure you, madam, interrupted Mr. Glanville, extremely impatient to know the meaning of these hints. You have nothing to fear from me. Therefore you need not think yourself under any necessity of concealing this affair from me. You are not happily so moderate as you pretend, said Arabella, who would not have been displeased to have seen him in all the jealous transports of an enraged Orontes. But whatever ensues I can no longer keep from your knowledge a truth your sister has begun to discover. But in telling you what you desire to know I expect you will suppress all inclinations to revenge and trust the care of your interest to my generosity. You are to know, then, that in the person of your friends or George you have a rival, happily the more to be feared as his passion is no less respectful than violent. I possibly tell you more than I ought, pursued she, blushing and casting down her eyes. When I confess that for certain considerations wherein perhaps you are concerned, I have received the first insinuation of this passion with disdain enough, and I assure myself that you are too generous to desire any revenge upon a miserable rival of whom death is going to free you. Then, taking Sir George's letter out of her cabinet, she presented it to Mr. Glanville. Read this, added she, but read it without suffering yourself to be transported with any violent motions of anger, and as in fight I am persuaded you would not oppress a fallen and vanquished foe, so in love I may hope an unfortunate rival will merit your compassion. Never doubted, madam, replied Mr. Glanville, receiving the letter, which Miss Glanville, with a beating heart, earnestly desired to hear read. Her brother, after asking permission of Arabella, prepared to gratify her curiosity. But he no sooner read the first sentence than, not with standing all his endeavors, a smile appeared in his face, and Miss Glanville, less able and indeed less concerned to restrain her mirth at the uncommon style, burst out a laughing with so much violence as obliged her brother to stop and counterfeit a terrible fit of coughing in order to avoid giving Arabella the like offense. The astonishment of this lady at the surprising and unexpected effect her lover's letter produced on Miss Glanville kept her in a profound silence, her eyes wandering from the sister to the brother, who, continuing his cough, was not able for some moments to go on with his reading. Arabella, during this interval, having recovered herself a little, asked Miss Glanville if she found anything in a lover's despair capable of diverting her so much, as she seemed to be with that of the unfortunate Sir George. My sister, madam, said Mr. Glanville, preventing her reply, knows so many of Sir George's infidelities that she cannot persuade herself he is really in such a dangerous way as he insinuates. Therefore you ought not to be surprised if she is rather disposed to laugh at this epistle than to be moved with any concern for the writer, who, though he is my rival, I must say, appears to be in a deplorable condition. Pray, sir, resumed Arabella, a little composed by those words. Finish the letter. Your sister may possibly find more cause for pity than contempt in the latter part of it. Mr. Glanville, giving a look to his sister, sufficient to make her comprehend that he would have her restrain or amirth for the future, proceeded in his reading. But every line increasing his strong inclination to laugh, when he came to the pathetic wish that her fair eyes might shed some tears upon his tomb, no longer able to keep his assumed gravity, he threw down the letter in a counterfeited rage. Curse the stupid fellow, cried he. Is he mad to call the finest black eyes in the universe fair? Ah, cousin, said he to Arabella. He must be little acquainted with the influence of your eyes, since he can so egregiously mistake their color. And it is very plain, replied Arabella, that you are little acquainted with the sublime language in which he writes, since you find fault with an epithet which marks the beauty not the color of those eyes he praises. For in fine, fair is indifferently applied as well to black and brown eyes as to light and blue ones, when they are either really lovely in themselves or by the lover's imagination created so. And therefore, since George's prepossession has made him see charms in my eyes, which questionless are not there, by calling them fair, he has very happily expressed himself, since therein he has the sanction of those great historians who wrote the histories of lovers he seems to imitate as well in his actions as style. I find my rival is very happy in your opinion, madam, said Mr. Glanville, and I am apt to believe I shall have more reason to envy than pity his situation. If you keep within the bounds I prescribe you, replied Arabella, you shall have no reason to envy his situation. But considering the condition to which his despair has by this time certainly reduced him, humanity requires that we should take some care of him, and to show you how great my opinion of your generosity is, I will even entreat you to accompany me in the visit I am going to make him. Mr. Glanville, being determined, if possible, to prevent her exposing herself, affected to be extremely moved at this request, and rising from his chair in great seeming agitation, reversed the room for some moments without speaking a word, then suddenly stopping, and can you, madam, said he, looking upon Arabella, suppose that I will consent to your visiting my rival, and that I will be mean enough to attend you myself to his house. Do you think that Orantes you have often reproached me with would act in such a manner? I don't know how Orantes would have acted in this case, said Arabella, because it never happened that such a proof of his submission was ever desired of him. But considering that he was of a very fiery and jealous disposition, it is probable he might act as you do. I always understood, madam, said Mr. Glanville, that Orantes was a favorite of yours, but it seems I was mistaken. You will be very unjust, said Arabella, to draw any unfavorable conclusion from what I have said, to the prejudice of that valiant prince, for whom I confess I have the great esteem, and truly whoever reflects upon the great actions he did in the wars between the Amazons and the Fierce, now Barzanes, king of this solutions, must needs conceive a very high idea of his virtue. But if I cannot bring the example of Orantes to influence you in the present case, I can mention those of other persons no less illustrious for their birth and courage than him. Did not the brave Memnon, when his rival Oxyatres, was sick, entreat the beautiful Barsina to favor him with a visit, and the complacent husband of the divine Parasatis was not contented with barely desiring her to visit Lycemicus, who was dying with despair at her marriage, but would many times bring her himself to the bedside of this unfortunate lover, and leaving her there, give him an opportunity of telling her what he suffered for her sake. I am afraid, madam, said Mr. Glanville, I shall never be capable of imitating either the brave Memnon nor the complacent Lycemicus in this case, and the humor of Orantes seems to me the most commendable. Nevertheless, said Arabella, the humor of Orantes cost him an infinite number of pains, and it may happen you will as near resemble him in his fortune as you do in his disposition. But pray let us end this dispute at present. If you are not generous enough to visit an unfortunate rival, you shall not put a stop to the charity of my intentions. And since Miss Glanville has all of a sudden become so severe that she will not accompany me in this visit, I shall be contented with the attendance of my women. Saying this, she rose from her seat, calling Lucy, and ordered her to bid her companions attend. Mr. Glanville, seeing her thus determined, was almost mad with vexation. Upon my soul, madam, said he, seizing her hand, you must not go. How, sir, said Arabella sternly. Not without seeing me die first, resumed he in a languishing tone. You must not die, replied Arabella, a little softened. Nor must you pretend to hinder me from going. Nay, madam, said Glanville, one of these two things will certainly happen. Either you must resolve not to visit Sir George or else be contented to see me die at your feet. Was ever a lady, and so cruel a dilemma, said Arabella, throwing herself into the chair in a languishing posture. What can I do to prevent the fate of two persons, one of whom I infinitely pity, and the other, obstinate as he is, I cannot hate? Shall I resolve to let the miserable bum or die, rather than grant him a favor the most rigid virtue would not refuse him? Or shall I, by imposing the impetuous humor of a lover, to whom I am somewhat obliged, make myself the author of his death, fatal necessity, which obliges me either to be cruel or unjust, and, with a disposition to neither, makes me in some degree guilty of both? As Arabella was uttering this pathetic complaint, Mr. Glanville, with great difficulty, kept himself from smiling, and by some supplicating looks to his sister, prevented her laughing out. Yet she giggled in secret behind her fan. But Arabella was so lost in her melancholy reflections that she kept her eyes immovably fixed on the ground for some moments. At last, casting an upraiding glance at Glanville, Is it possible, cruel person, that you are, said she to him, that you can, but pity, see me suffer so much uneasiness, and, knowing the sensibility of my temper, can expose me to the grief of being accessory to the death of an unfortunate man, guilty indeed of a too violent passion, which merits a gentler punishment than that you doom him to? Don't be uneasy, dear cousin, interrupted Miss Glanville, I dare assure you Sir George won't die. It is impossible to think that, said Arabella, since he has not so much as received a command for me to live. But tell me truly, pursued she, do you believe it probable that he will obey me and live? Indeed, madam, said Miss Glanville, I could swear for him that he will. Well, replied Arabella, I will content myself with sending him my commands in writing, but it is to be feared they will not have so much efficacy upon his spirit. Mr. Glanville, extremely pleased that she had laid aside her design of visiting Sir George, did not oppose her writing to him, though he was plotting how to prevent the letter reaching his hands, and while she went into her closet to write, he conferred with his sister upon the means he should use, expressing, at the same time, great resentment against Sir George for endeavouring to supplant him in his cousin's affection. What then, said Miss Glanville, do you really imagine Sir George is in love with Lady Bella? He is either in love with her person or a state, replied Mr. Glanville, or perhaps with both, for she is handsome enough to gain a lover of his merit, though she had no fortune, and she has fortune enough to do it, though she had no beauty. My cousin is well enough to be sure, said Miss Glanville, but I never could think her a beauty. If, replied Mr. Glanville, most lovely complexion, regular features, a fine stature, an elegant shape, and an inexpressible grace in all her motions can form a beauty, Lady Bella may pretend to that character without any dispute. Though she was all that you say, returned Miss Glanville, I am certain Sir George is not in love with her. I wish I was certain of that, replied Mr. Glanville, for it is very probable you are mistaken. You may see by his letter interrupted Miss Glanville what a jest he makes of her, and if you had heard how he talked to her the other day in the garden, you would have died with laughing, yet my poor cousin thought he was very serious and was so foolishly pleased. I assure you, Charlotte, said Mr. Glanville gravely, I shall take it very ill if you make so free with your cousin's little foibles, and if Sir George presumes to make a jest of her, as you say, I shall teach him better manners. You are the strangest creature in the world, said Miss Glanville, a minute or two ago you was wishing to be sure you was not in love with her, and now you are angry when I assure you he is only in jest. Arabella, that moment coming out of her closet, broke off their discourse. I have written to Sir George, said she, addressing herself to Mr. Glanville, and you are at liberty if you please to read my letter which I propose to send away immediately. Mr. Glanville, taking the letter out of her hand with a low bow, began to read it to himself, but Arabella, willing his sister, should also be acquainted with the contents, obliged him, much against his will, to read it aloud. It was as follows, Arabella to Belmore, Whatever offence your presumptuous declaration may have given me, yet my resentment will be appeased with a less punishment than death, and that grief and submission you have testified in your letter may happily have already procured you pardon for your fault, provided you do not forfeit it by disobedience. I therefore command you to live, and command you by all that power you have given me over you. Remember I require no more of you than Parasatis did of Lycemicus, in a more cruel and unsupportable misfortune. Imitate then the obedience and submission of that illustrious prince, and though you should be as unfortunate as he, let your courage also be equal to his, and like him be contented with the esteem that is offered you, since it is all that can be bestowed by Arabella. Mr. Glanville, finding by this epistle that Arabella did not design to encourage the addresses of Sir George, would not have been against his receiving it had he not feared the consequences of his having such a convincing proof of the peculiarity of her temper in his possession, and while he kept a letter in his hand as if he wanted to consider it a little better, he meditated on the means to prevent its ever being delivered, and had possibly fixed upon some successful contrivance when a servant coming in to inform the ladies that Sir George was come to wait on them, put an end to his schemes, and he immediately ran down to receive him. Not being willing to increase by his stay, the astonishment and confusion which appeared in the countenance of Arabella, adhering a man whom she had believed and represented to be dying, was come to pay her a visit. End of Book 5, Chapter 3. Book 5, Chapter 4 of the Female Quixote, Volume 2. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Female Quixote, Volume 2 by Charlotte Lennox. Book 5, Chapter 4. Where the lady extricates herself out of her former confusion, to the great astonishment we will suppose of the reader. Miss Glanville, not having so much delicacy as her brother, could not help exalting a little upon this occasion. After the terrible fright you have been in, madam, said she, upon Sir George's account, I wonder you do not rather think it is his ghost than himself that has come to see us. There is no question but it is himself that has come, said Arabella, who had already reconciled this visit to her first thoughts of him, and it is happily to execute his fatal design in my presence that has brought him here, and like the unfortunate Aljulmon, he means to convince me of his fidelity and love by falling upon his sword before my eyes. Bless me, madam, said Miss Glanville, what horrid things come into your head. I vow you terrify me out of my wits to hear you. There is no occasion for your fears, interrupted Arabella. Since we already suspect his designs, it will be very easy to prevent them. Had the princess of the Sarmatians known the fatal intentions of her despairing lover, doubtless she would have used some precautions to hinder him from executing them, for want of which she saw the miserable Aljulmon dwelltering in his blood at her feet, and with reason accused herself of being the cause of so deplorable a spectacle. The astonishment Miss Glanville was in to hear her cousin talk in this manner kept her from giving her any interruption, while she related several other terrible instances of despair. In the meantime, Sir George, who was impatient to go up to Lady Bella's apartment, having flattered himself with that hope that his letter was favorably received, and that he should be permitted to hope at least, made a short visit to Sir Charles in his own room, and accompanied by Mr. Glanville, who was resolved to see in what manner Arabella received him, went to her apartment. As he had taken care at his entrance to accommodate his looks to the character he had assumed of an humble despairing lover, Arabella no sooner saw him but her countenance changed, and making a sign to Mr. Glanville, who could not comprehend what she meant, to seize upon the guard of his sword, she hastily stepped forward to meet him. I am too well convinced, said she to Sir George, that the intent of your coming hither today is to commit some violence against yourself before my eyes. But listen not, I beseech you, to the dictates of your despair. Live! I command you! Live! And since you say, I have the absolute disposal of your life, do not deprive yourself of it, without the consent of her on whom you profess to have bestowed it. Sir George, who did not imagine Arabella would communicate his letter to her cousins, and only expected some distant hints from her concerning it, was so confounded at this reception before them that he was not able to reply. He blushed and turned pale alternately, and not daring to look either upon Mr. Glanville or her brother, or to meet the eyes of the fair visionary, who with great impatience expected his answer, he hung down his head in a very silly posture, and by his silence confirmed Arabella in her opinion. As he did not want for wit and assurance during that interval of silence and expectation from all parties, his imagination suggested to him the means of extricating himself out of the ridiculous perplexity he was in, and as it concerned him greatly to avoid any quarrel with the brother and sister, he determined to turn the whole matter into a jest, but, if possible, to manage it so that Arabella should not enter into its meaning. Raising therefore his eyes, and looking upon Arabella with a melancholy air, you are not deceived, madam, said he. This criminal, with whom you are so justly offended, comes with an intention to die at your feet, and breathe out his miserable life, to expiate those crimes of which you accuse him. But since your severe compassion will oblige me to live, I obey, oh, most divine, but cruel Arabella, I obey your harsh commands, and by endeavouring to live give you a more convincing proof of that respect and submission I shall always have for your will. I expected no less from your courage and generosity, said Arabella, with a look of great complacency. And since you so well know how to imitate the great Lycemicus in your obedience, I shall not be less acknowledging than the fair Parasatus, but will have for you an esteem equal to that virtue I have observed in you. Sir George, having received this gracious promise with a most profound bow, turned to Mr. Glanville with a kind of chastened smile upon his countenance. And you, fortunate and deserving knight, said he, happy in the affections of the fairest person in the world, grudge me not this small alleviation of my misfortunes, and end me not that esteem which alone is able to make me suffer life, which you possess in the heart of the divine Arabella, a felicity that might be envied by the greatest monarchs in the world. As diverting as this scene was, Mr. Glanville was extremely uneasy, for though Sir George's stratagem took, he believed he was only indulging the gaiety of his humor by carrying on this farce, yet he could not endure he should divert himself at Arabella's expense. The solemn speech he had made him did indeed force him to smile, but he soon assumed a graver look, and told Sir George in a low voice that when he had finished his visit he should be glad to take a turn with him in the garden. Sir George promised to follow him, and Mr. Glanville left the room, and went into the gardens, where the baronet, having taken a respectful leave of Arabella, and by a sly glance convinced Mr. Glanville he had sacrificed her cousin to her mirth, went to join her brother. Mr. Glanville, as soon as he saw him, walked to meet him with a very reserved air, which Sir George's observing, and being resolved to keep up his humor, What, inhuman, but too happy lover, said he, What am I to understand by that cloud upon your brow? Is it possible that thou canst envy me the small comfort I have received, and not satisfied with the glorious advantages thou possessest, wilt thou still deny me that esteem which the divine Arabella has been pleased to bestow upon me? Pray, Sir George, said Mr. Glanville, lay aside this pompous style, I am not disposed to be merry at present, and have not all the relish for this kind of wit that you seem to expect. I desire to see you here, that I might tell you without witnesses, I take it extremely ill you should presume to make my cousin the object of your mirth. Lady Bella, sir, is not a person with whom such liberties ought to be taken, nor will I, in the double character of her lover and relation, suffer it from anyone whatever. Cruel fortune, said Sir George, stepping back a little, and lifting up his eyes, shall I always be exposed to thy persecutions, and must I, without any apparent cause, behold an enemy in the person of my friend, who though without murmuring I resign to him the adorable Arabella, is yet resolved to dispute with me, a satisfaction which does not deprive him of any part of that glorious fortune to which he is destined. Since it is so, unjust and cruel friend, pursued he, strike this breast which carries the image of the divine Arabella, but think not that I will offer to defend myself or lift my sword against a man beloved by her. This is all very fine, returned Mr. Glanville, hardly able to forbear laughing, but it is impossible, with all your gaiety, to hinder me from being serious upon this business. Then be as serious as thou wilt, dear Charles, interrupted Sir George, provided you will allow me to be gay, and not pretend to infect me with thy unbecoming gravity. I have but a few words to say to you, then, Sir, replied Mr. Glanville, either behave with more respect to my cousin or prepare to give me satisfaction for the insults you offer her. Oh, I understand you, Sir, said Sir George, and because you have taken it into your head to be offended at a trifle of no consequence in the world, I must give you a fair chance to run me through the body. There is something very foolish, faith, in such an extravagant expectation, but since custom has made it necessary that a man must venture his soul and body upon these important occasions, because I will not be out of the fashion, you shall command me whenever you think fit, though I shall fight with my school fellow with a very ill will, I assure you. There is no necessity for fighting, said Mr. Glanville, blushing at the ludicrous light in which the gay baronet had placed his challenge. The concession I have required is very small and not worth the contesting for on your side. Lady Bella's peculiarity, to which you contribute so much, can afford you at best but an ill-natured diversion. While it gives me a real pain and, sure, you must acknowledge, you are doing me a very great injury when you endeavor to confirm a lady who is to be my wife in a behavior that excites your mirth and makes her a fit object for your ridicule and contempt. You do, Lady Bella, a much greater injury than I do, replied Sir George, by supposing she can ever be an object of ridicule and contempt. I think very highly of her understanding, and though the bent of her studies has given her mind a romantic turn, yet the singularity of her manners is far less disagreeable than the lighter follies of most of her sex. But to be absolutely perfect, interrupted Mr. Glanville, I must cheer her of that singularity, and therefore I beg you will not persist in assuming a behavior conformable to her romantic ideas, but rather help me to banish them from her imagination. Well, replied Sir George, since you no longer threaten, I'll do what I can to content you, but I must quit my heroics by degree and sink with decency into my own character, otherwise she will never endure me in her presence. Arabella and Miss Glanville, appearing in the walk, broke off the conversation. The baronet and Mr. Glanville walked forward to meet them, but Arabella, who did not desire her company, struck into another walk with her Mr. Glanville following, proposed to join her, when he saw his father, who had been taking a turn there alone, make up to Arabella, and supposing he would take that opportunity to talk to her concerning him, he went back to his sister and Sir George, whose conversation he interrupted to the great regret of Miss Glanville. CHAPTER V. In which will be found one of the former mistakes pursued and another cleared up to the great satisfaction of two persons, among whom the reader, we expect, will make a third? Arabella no sooner saw Sir Charles advancing towards her, when, sensible of the consequence of being alone with a person whom she did not doubt, would make use of that advantage to talk to her of love, she endeavored to avoid him, but in vain. For Sir Charles, guessing her intentions, walked hastily up to her, and, taking hold of her hand, you must not go away, Lady Bella, said he, I have something to say to you. Arabella, extremely discomposed at this behavior, struggled to free her hand from her uncle, and giving him a look on which disdain and fear were visibly painted, unhand me, Sir, said she, and forced me not to forget the respect I owe you as my uncle by treating you with a severity such uncommon insolence demands. Sir Charles, letting go her hand in a great surprise at the word insolent, which she had used, asked her if she knew to whom she was speaking. Questionless, I am speaking to my uncle, replied she, and his with great regret I see myself obliged to make use of expressions no way conformable to the respect I bear that sacred character. And pray, madam, said Sir Charles, somewhat softened by this speech. Who is it that obliges you to lay aside that respect you seem to acknowledge is due to your uncle? Due to, sir, replied she, and his with infinite sorrow that I beheld you assuming a character unbecoming the brother of my father. This is pretty plain indeed, interrupted Sir Charles, but pray, madam, inform me what it is you complain of. You questionless know much better than I can tell you, replied Arabella, blushing, the offence I accuse you of, nor is it proper for me to mention what it would not become me to suffer. Zoons, cried Sir Charles, no longer able to suppress his growing anger. This is enough to make a man mad. Ah, I beseech you, sir, resumed Arabella. Suffer not an unfortunate and ill-judged passion to be the bane of all your happiness and virtue. Recall your wandering thoughts. Reflect upon the dishonor you will bring upon yourself by persisting in such unjustifiable sentiments. I do not know how it is possible to avoid it, said Sir Charles, and notwithstanding all this fine reasoning. There are few people but who would fly into greater extremities. But my affection for you makes me hold, hold, I conjure you, sir, interrupted Arabella. Force me not to listen to such injurious language. Carry that odious affection somewhere else, and do not persecute an unfortunate maid who has contributed nothing to thy fault, and is only guilty of too much compassion for thy weakness. Good God! cried Sir Charles, starting back and looking upon Arabella with astonishment. How I pity my son! What would I not give if he did not love this girl? Think not, replied Arabella, that the passion your son has for me makes your condition a bit the worse, for I would be such as I am with respect to you where there no Mr. Glanville in the world. I never thought, niece, said Sir Charles, after a little pause, that any part of my behavior could give you the offense you complain of, or authorize that hatred and contempt you take the liberty to express for me. But since it is so, I promise you, I will quit your house, and leave you to yourself. I have always been solicitous for your welfare, and ungrateful as you are call me not ungrateful, interrupted Arabella again. Heaven is my witness that had you not forgot I was your place. I would have always remembered you as my uncle, and not only have regarded you as such, but have looked upon you as another father, under whose direction Providence had placed me, since it had deprived me of my real father, and whose tenderness and care might have in some measure supplied the loss I had of him. But heaven has decreed it otherwise, and since it is his will that I should be deprived of the comfort and assistance my orphan state requires. I must submit without murmuring to my destiny. Go then, unfortunate and lamented uncle, pursued she, wiping some tears from her fine eyes. Go and endeavor by reason and absence to recover thy repose, and be assured whenever you can convince me you have triumphed over these sentiments, which now cause both our unhappiness. You shall have no cause to complain of my conduct towards you. Finishing these words, she left him with so much speed that it would have been impossible for him to have stopped her, though he had intended it. But indeed, he was so lost in wonder and confusion at a behavior for which he was not able to assign any other cause than madness, that he remained fixed in the same posture of surprise in which she had left him, and from which he was first interrupted by the voice of his son, who, seeing Arabella flying towards the house in great seeming emotion, came to know the result of their conversation. Sir, said Mr. Glanville, who had spoken to his father before, but had no answer, will you not inform me what success you have had with my cousin? How did she receive your proposal? Speak of her no more, said Sir Charles. She is a proud, ungrateful girl, and unworthy the affection you have for her. Mr. Glanville, who trembled to hear so unfavorable an answer to his inquiries, was struck dumb with his surprise and grief, when Sir Charles taking notice of the alteration in his countenance. I am sorry, said he, to find you have set your heart upon this fantastic girl. If ever she be your wife, which I very much doubt, she will make you very unhappy. But Charles, pursued he, I would advise you to think no more of her. Content yourself with the estate you gain by her refusal of you. With that addition to your own fortune you may pretend to any lady whatever, and you will find many that are full as agreeable as your cousin, who will be proud of your addresses. Indeed, sir, said Mr. Glanville with a sigh. There is no woman upon earth whom I would choose to marry but Lady Bella. I flattered myself I had been happy enough to have made some progress in her affection, but it seems I was mistaken. However, I should be glad to know if she gave you any reasons for refusing me. Reasons, said Sir Charles, there is no making her hear reason, or expecting reason from her. I never knew so strange a woman in my life. She would not allow me to speak what I intended concerning you, but interrupted me every moment with some high-flown stuff or other. Then I have not lost all hopes of her, cried Mr. Glanville eagerly, for since she did not hear what you had to say, she could not possibly deny you. But she behaved in a very impertinent manner to me, interrupted Sir Charles, complained of my harsh treatment of her, and said several other things which, because of her uncommon style, I could not perfectly understand. Yet they seemed shocking, and upon the whole treated me so rudely, that I am determined to leave her to herself and trouble my head no more about her. For God's sake, dear Sir, said Mr. Glanville, alarmed at this resolution. Suspend your anger till I have seen my cousin. There is some mistake I am persuaded in all this. I know she has some very odd humors, which you are not so well acquainted with, as am I. I'll go to her and prevail upon her to explain herself. You may do so if you please, replied Sir Charles, but I fear it will be to very little purpose, for I really suspect her head is a little turned. I do not know what to do with her. It is not fit she should have the management of herself, and yet it is impossible to live upon easy terms with her. Mr. Glanville, who did not doubt, but Arabella had been guilty of some very ridiculous folly, offered nothing more in her justification, but having attended his father to his own chamber went to Arabella's apartment. He found the pensive fair one in a melancholy posture, her head reclined upon one of her fair hands, and though her eyes were fixed upon a book she held in the other, yet she did not seem to read but rather to be wholly buried in contemplation. Mr. Glanville, having so happily found her alone, for her women were not then in her chamber, seated himself near her, having first asked pardon for the interruption he had given to her studies, and Arabella, throwing aside her book, prepared to listen to his discourse, which by the agitation which appeared in looks she imagined would be upon some extraordinary subject. I left my father just now, said he, in a great deal of uneasiness. On account of something you said to him, Lady Bella, he apprehends you are disobliged, and he would willingly know how. As your father then acquainted you with the subject of our conversation, interrupted Arabella, I know what would have been the subject of your conversation, replied Mr. Glanville, if you had been pleased to listen to what Sir Charles intended to say to you on my behalf. On your behalf, interrupted Arabella, ah poor deceived Glanville, how I pity thy blind sincerity, but it is not for me to undeseed thee. Only thus much I must say to you, beware of committing your interests to a person who will be a much better advocate for another than for you. Mr. Glanville rejoiced to find by these words that her resentment against his father was occasioned by a suspicion so favorable for him, assured her that Sir Charles wished for nothing more earnestly than that he might be able to merit her esteem, and that it was to dispose her to listen to his addresses that he wanted to discourse with her that morning. Mr. Glanville, being obliged through his knowledge of his cousin's temper to speak to her in this distant manner, went on with his assurances of his father's candor in this respect, and Arabella, who would not declare her reasons for doubting it, only replied that she wished Sir Charles meant all that he had said to him, but that she could not persuade herself to believe him sincere till his future actions had convinced her he was so. Mr. Glanville, impatient to let his father know how greatly he had been mistaken in the cause of Arabella's behavior, made his visit shorter than he would otherwise have done in order to un-deceive him. Is it possible, said Sir Charles, when his son had repeated the conversation he had just had with Arabella, that she could be so foolish as to imagine I had a design to propose anyone else to her but you. What reason have I ever given her to think I would not be glad to have her for my daughter-in-law? Indeed she has some odd ways that are very disagreeable, but she is one of the best matches in England for all that. Poor girl, pursued he, she had reason to be angry if that was the case, and now I remember she cried when I told her I would leave the house, yet her spirit was so great that she told me I might go. Well, I'll go and make it up with her, but who could have imagined she would have been so foolish? Charles, at the repetition of these words, hurried away to Arabella's apartment. Nus, said he at his entrance, I am come to ask you pardon for having led you into a belief that I meant it is enough, Sir, interrupted Arabella. I grant you my pardon for what has passed, and as it does not become me to receive submissions from my uncle, while he remembers he is so, I will dispense with your acknowledgments at present, only to convince me that this sudden alteration is sincere. Avoid I beseech you for the future, all occasions of displeasing me. I protest, cried Sir Charles, that I never intended I will not hear you say a word more of your past intentions. Interrupted Arabella again, I have forgotten them all, and while you continue to regard me as your niece, I will never remember them to your disadvantage. Then I may hope, said Sir Charles, O heavens, cried Arabella, not suffering him to proceed, do you come to insult me thus with a mock repentance, and has my easiness in being so ready to forget the injury you would have done me, made you presumptuous enough to cherish an insolent hope that I will ever change my resolution. How vexatious is this, replied Sir Charles, fretting to see her continually mistaking him, I swear to you, by all that is sacred, that is my son for whom I would solicit your consent. How, said Arabella, astonished, will you then be just at last, and can you resolve to plead for that son whose interest but a moment ago you would have destroyed? I see, said Sir Charles, it is impossible to convince you. No, no, interrupted Arabella hastily, it is not impossible, but my own ardent wishes that it may be so, will help to convince me of the truth of what you say. For in fine do you think I shall not be as glad as yourself to find you capable of acting honorably by your son, and to see myself no longer the cause of the most unjustifiable conduct imaginable. Sir Charles was opening his mouth to press her in favor of Mr. Glanville, whom, notwithstanding her strange behavior, he was glad to find she loved. When Arabella preventing him, seek not, I beseech you, said she, to destroy that belief I am willing to give your words by any more attempts at this time to persuade me. For truly I shall interpret your solicitude no way in your favor. Therefore if you desire I should be convinced you are sincere, let the silence I require of you be one proof of it. Sir Charles, who looked excessively out of countenance at such a peremptory command from his niece, was going out of her chamber in a very ill humor. When the dinner bell ringing, she gave him her hand with a very gracious air, and permitted him to lead her into the dining room, where they found Mr. Glanville, his sister, and Sir George, who had been detained to dinner by Miss Glanville, expecting their coming. End of book 5, chapter 6, containing some account of the lestuous queen of the Amazons, with other curious anecdotes. Lady Bella, having recovered her usual cheerfulness, through the satisfaction she felt at her uncle's returning to reason, and the abatement she perceived in Sir George's extreme melancholy, mixed in the conversation with the wit and vivacity which was natural to her, and which so absolutely charmed the whole company that not one of them remembered any of her former extravagancies. After Glanville gazed on her with a passionate tenderness, Sir George with admiration, and the old baronet with wonder and delight. But Miss Glanville, who was inwardly vexed at the superiority her cousin's wit gave her over herself, wished for nothing more than an opportunity of interrupting a conversation in which she could have no share, and willing to put them in mind of some of Arabella's strange notions, when she observed them disputing concerning some of the actions of the ancient Romans, she very innocently asked Sir George whether in former times women went to the wars and fought like men. For my cousin, added she, talks of one thou'stris, a woman that was as courageous as any soldier whatever. Mr. Glanville, hardly vexed at a question that was likely to engage Arabella in a discourse very different from that she had been so capable of pleasing in, frowned very intelligibly at his sister, and to prevent any answer being given to her absurd demand, directed some other conversation to Arabella. But she, who saw a favored subject started, took no notice of what Mr. Glanville was saying to her. But directing her looks to Sir George, though Miss Glanville, said she, be a little mistaken in the name of that fair queen she has mentioned, yet I am persuaded you know whom she means, and that it is the renowned Thelestris, whose valor staggers her belief, and of whom she wants to be informed. My eyes, Thelestris, said Miss Glanville, it is such a strange name I could not remember it, but pray was there ever such a person. Certainly, madam, there was, replied Sir George. She was the queen of the Amazons, a war-like nation of women who possessed great part of Cappadocia, and extended their conquests so far that they became formidable to all their neighbors. You find, Miss, said Arabella, I did not attempt to impose upon you when I told you of the admirable valor of that beautiful queen, which indeed was so great that the United Princes, in whose cause she fought, looked upon her assistance to be equal to that of a whole army, and they honored her accordingly with the most distinguishing marks of their esteem and acknowledgement, and offered her the chief command of their forces. Oh, shameful, cried Sir Charles, offer a woman a command of an army, brave fellows indeed that would be commanded by a woman. Sure, you mistake, niece, there was never such a thing heard of in the world. What, sir, said Arabella, will you contradict a fact attested by the greatest historians that ever were? You may as well pretend to say there never were such persons as Oroandates or Juba, as dispute the existence of the famous illustrious. Why, pray, madam, said Sir Charles, who were those? One of them, replied Arabella, was the great king of Scythia, and the other, Prince of the two Mauritanias. Od's heart, interrupted Sir Charles, I believe their kingdoms are in the moon I never heard of Scythia or the two Mauritanias before. And yet, sir, replied Arabella, those kingdoms are doubtless as well known as France or England, and there is no question but the descendants of the great Oroandates and the valiant Juba sway the sceptres of them to this day. I must confess, said Sir George, I have a great admiration for those two renowned princes, and have read their beautiful exploits with infinite pleasure, notwithstanding which I am more inclined to esteem the great Artoban than either of them. Though Artoban, replied Arabella, is without question a warrior equal to either of them, and happily no person in the world possessed so sublime a courage as his was. Yet it may be your partiality proceeds from another cause, and you having the honour to resemble him in some little infidelities he was accused of, with less justice than yourself perhaps, induces you to favour him more than any other. Arabella blushed when she ended these words, and Sir George replied with a sigh, I have indeed the honour, madame, to resemble the great Artoban, in having dared to raise my thoughts towards a divine person who with reason condemns my adorations. Hey, day! cried Sir Charles, are you going to speak of divine things after all the fables you have been talking of? Troth, I love to hear young men enter upon such subjects, but pray, niece, who told you Sir George was an infidel? Mr. Glanville replied Arabella, and I am inclined to think he spoke truth, for Sir George has never pretended to deny it. How, interrupted Sir Charles, I am sorry to hear that. I hope you have never, added he, looking at the young baronet, endeavour to corrupt my son with any of your free-thinking principles. I am for everybody having liberty of conscience, but I cannot endure to hear people of your stamp endeavouring to propagate your mischievous notions, and because you have no regard for your own future happiness, disturbing other people in the laudable pursuit of theirs. We will not absolutely condemn Sir George, said Arabella, till we have heard his history from his own mouth, which he promised some time ago to relate when I desired it. I do not imagine his history is fit to be heard by ladies, said Sir Charles, for your infidels live a strange kind of life. However, that may be, replied Arabella, we must not dispense with Sir George from performing his promise. I dare say there are no ladies here who will think the worst of him for freely confessing his faults. You may answer for yourself if you please, Madam, said Sir Charles, but I hope my girl there will not say as much. I dare say my cousin is not so rigid, said Arabella. She has too much the spirit of Julia in her to find fault with a little infidelity. I am always obliged to you for your comparisons, cousin, said Miss Glanville. I suppose this is greatly to my advantage too. I assure you, Madam, said Sir George, Lady Bella has done you no injury by the comparisons she has just now made, for Julia was one of the finest princesses in the world. Yet she was not free from the suspicion of infidelity, replied Arabella, but though I do not pretend to tax my cousin with that fault, yet it is with a great deal of reason that I say she resembles her in her volatile humour. I was never thought to be ill-humoured in my life, said Miss Glanville, colouring, and I cannot imagine what reason I have given you for saying I am. Nay, cousin, said Arabella, I am not condemning your humour. For to say the truth, there are a great many charms in a volatile disposition, and notwithstanding the admirable beauty of Julia, it is possible she made as many slaves by her light and airy carriage as she did by her eyes, though they were the fairest in the world except the divine Cleopatra's. Cleopatra, cried Sir Charles, why, she was a gypsy, was she not? I never heard her called so, said Arabella, gravely, and I am apt to believe you are not at all acquainted with her. But pray, pursued she, let us waive this discourse at present and prepare to listen to Sir George's relation of his life, which, I dare say, is full of very extraordinary events. However, sir, added she, directing her speech to the young baronet, I am afraid your modesty will induce you to speak with less candour than you ought of those great actions which questionless you have performed. Therefore we shall hear your history with greater satisfaction from the mouth of your faithful squire, who will not have the same reasons that you have for suppressing what is most admirable in the adventures of your life. Since it is your pleasure, madam, replied Sir George, to hear my adventures, I will recount them as well as I am able myself, to the end that I may have an opportunity of obliging you by doing some violence to my natural modesty, which will not suffer me to relate things the world have been pleased to speak of to my advantage without some little confusion. Then, casting down his eyes, he seemed to be recollecting the most material passages in his life. Mr. Glanville, though he could have wished he had not indulged Arabella in her ridiculous requests, was not able to deny himself the diversion of hearing what kind of history he would invent, and therefore resolved to stay and listen to him. Miss Glanville was also highly delighted with the proposal, but Sir Charles, who could not conceive there could be anything worth listening to in a young rake's account of himself, got up with an intention to walk in the garden. When perceiving it rained, he changed his resolution and resuming his seat prepared to listen as everyone else did to the expected story. When Sir George, after having paused a quarter of an hour longer, during which all the company observed a profound silence, began his relation in this manner addressing himself to Arabella. End of Book 5, Chapter 6 End of Book 5 Book 6, Chapter 1 of the Female Quixote, Volume 2 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org The Female Quixote, Volume 2 by Charlotte Lennox Book 6, Chapter 1, containing the beginning of Sir George's history, in which the ingenious relator has exactly copied the style of romance. Though at present, madam, you behold me in the quality of a private gentleman, in the possession only of a tolerable estate, yet my birth is illustrious enough. My ancestors having formerly worn a crown, which as they won by their valor, so they lost by their misfortune only. How, interrupted Sir Charles, are you descended from Kings? Why, I never heard you say so before. Pray, sir, how far are you removed from royal blood, and which of your forefathers was it that wore a crown? Sir, replied Sir George, it is not much more than eight hundred years since my ancestors, who were Saxons, swayed the scepter of Kent, and from the first monarch of that mighty kingdom am I lineally descended. Pray, where may that kingdom of Kent lie? said Sir Charles. In blank, replied Sir George. A mighty kingdom indeed, said Sir Charles. Why, it makes but a very small part of the kingdom of Britain now. Well, if your ancestors were kings of that county, as it is now called, it must be confessed their dominions were very small. However that may be, said Arabella, it raises Sir George greatly in my esteem to hear he is descended from Kings, for truly a royal extraction does infinitely set off noble and valiant actions, and inspires only lofty and generous sentiments. Therefore, illustrious prince, for in that light I shall always consider you. Be assured, though fortune has dispoiled you of your dominions, yet since she cannot deprive you of your courage and virtue, Providence will one day assist your noble endeavors to recover your rights, and place you upon the throne of your ancestors from whence you have been so inhumanly driven, or happily to repair that loss your valour may procure you other kingdoms, no less considerable than that to which you was born. For heaven's sake, niece, said Sir Charles, how come such improbable things into your head? Is it such an easy matter, thank you, to conquer kingdoms that you can flatter a young man who has neither fleets nor armies with such strange hopes? The great Artabhan, sir, resumed Arabella, had neither fleets nor armies, and was master only of a single sword, yet he soon saw himself greater than any king, disposing the destinies of monarchs by his will, and deciding the fates of empires by a single word. But pray let this dispute rest where it is, and permit Sir George to continue his relation. It is not necessary, madam, resumed Sir George, to acquaint you with the misfortunes of my family, or relate the several progressions it made towards the private condition in which it now is, for besides that reciting the events of so many hundred years may happily, in some measure, try your patience. I should be glad if you would dispense with me from entering into a detail of accidents that would sensibly afflict me. It shall suffice, therefore, to inform you that my father, being a peaceable man, fond of retirement and tranquility, made no attempts to recover the sovereignty from which his ancestors had been unjustly expelled, but quietly beheld the kingdom of Kent in the possession of other masters, while he contented himself with the improvement of that small pittance of ground, which was all that the unhappy Prince Veridomer, my grandfather, was able to bequeath to him. Hey, day! cried Sir Charles. Will you new christen your grandfather, when he has been in his grave these forty years? I knew honest Sir Edward Belmore very well, though I was but a youth when he died, but I believe no person in Kent ever gave him the title of Prince Veridomer. Fie! Fie! These are idle brags. Sir George, without taking notice of the old baronet's heat, went on with his narration in this manner. Things were in this state, madam, when I was born. I will not trouble you with the relation of what I did in my infancy. No, pray you skip over all of that, interrupted Sir Charles. I suppose your infancy was like other peoples. What can there be worth hearing in that? You are deceived, sir, said Arabella. The infancy of illustrious personages has always something very extraordinary in it, and from their childish words and actions there have been often presages drawn of their future greatness and glory. Not to disablage Sir Charles, however, said the young Prince of Kent, I will not repeat many things which I said and did in the first years of my life, that those about me thought very surprising, and from them prognosticated that very strange accidents would befall me. I have been a witness of some very unfavorable prognostics of you, said Sir Charles, smiling, for you was the most unlucky bold spark that I ever knew in my life. It is very certain, pursued Sir George, that the forwardness of my spirit gave great uneasiness to my father, who, being as I said before, inclinable to a peaceful and sedentary life, endeavored as much as possible to repress that vivacity in my disposition, which he feared might involve me in dangerous enterprises. The pains he took in my education I recompensed by more than ordinary distility, and before I was thirteen performed all my exercises with a marvelous grace, and if I may dare say so was, at those early years, the admiration and wonder of all that saw me. Lady Bella had some reason to fear your modesty, I find, said Sir Charles, smiling, for me thinks you really speak too lightly of your excellencies. However, that may be, resumed Sir George. My father saw these early instances of a towering genius in me, with a pleasure, chastened by his fears, that the grandeur of my courage would lead me to attempt something for the recovery of that kingdom which was my due, and which might happily occasion his losing me. Possessed with these thoughts he carefully avoided saying anything to me concerning the glorious pretenses to which my birth gave me a right, and often wished it had been possible for him to conceal from me that I was the true and lawful heir of the kingdom of Kent, a circumstance he never chose to mention to any person, and would have been glad if it had always remained a secret. And so it was a secret, interrupted Sir Charles, for till this day I never heard of it, and it might still have been a secret if you had pleased, for nobody, I dare say, would suspect such a thing, and very few, I believe, will be inclined to think there is anything in such an improbable tale. Notwithstanding all my father's endeavors to the contrary, madam, pursued Sir George, I cherished, as towering sentiments, the knowledge of my birth inspired me with, and it was not without the utmost impatience that I brooked the private condition to which I found myself reduced. Cruel fate, would I sometimes cry, or is it not enough to deprive me of that kingdom which is my due, and subject me to a mean and inglorious state, but to make that condition infinitely more grievous must thou give me a soul towering above my abject fortune. A soul that cannot but disdain the base submission I must pay to those who triumph in the spoils of my ruined house, a soul which sees nothing above its hopes and expectations, and, in fine, a soul that excites me daily to attempt things worthy of my birth, and those noble sentiments I inherit from my great forefathers. Ah, pursued I, unhappy Belmore, what hinders thee from making thyself known and acknowledged for what thou art? What hinders thee from boldly asserting thy just and natural rites, and from defying the usurper who detains them from thee? What hinders thee, I say? What, interrupted Sir Charles, why the fear of a halter, I suppose, there is nothing more easy than to answer that question. Such, madam, said Sir George, were the thoughts which continually disturbed my imagination, and doubtless they had not failed to push me on to some hazardous enterprise, had not a fatal passion interposed, and, by its sweet but dangerous allurements, stifled for a while that flame, which ambition and the love of glory kindled in my soul. Sir George here pausing and fixing his eyes with the melancholy air on the ground, as if pressed with the tenderer membranes. Mr. Glanville asked him, smiling, if the thoughts of poor Dolly disturbed him. Pray, added he, give us the history of your first love, without any mixture of fable, or shall I take the trouble off you, for you know I am very well acquainted with your affair with the pretty milkmaid, and can tell it very succinctly. Tis true, sir, said Sir George, sighing. I cannot recall the idea of Dorothea into my remembrance without some pain. That fair but unfaithful shepherdess who first taught me to sigh, and repaid my tenderness with the blackest infidelity, yet I will endeavour to compose myself and go on with my narration. Be pleased to know, then, madame, pursued Sir George, that having my thoughts in this manner wholly employed with the disasters of my family, I had arrived to my seventeenth year without being sensible of the power of love, but the moment now arrived which was to prove fatal to my liberty, Following the chase one day with my father and some other gentleman, I happened to lag a little behind then, and being taken up with my ordinary reflections, I lost my way and wandered a long time without knowing or considering wither I was going. Chance at last conducted me to a pleasant valley surrounded with trees, and being tired with riding I lighted, and tying my horse to a tree walked forward with an intention to repose myself a few moments under the shade of one of those trees that attracted my observation. But while I was looking for the most convenient place, I spied at the distance of some few yards from me, a woman lying asleep on the grass. Curiosity tempted me to go nearer this person, and advancing softly that I might not disturb her, I got near enough to have a view of her person. But ah, heavens, what wonders did my eyes encounter in this view? The age of this fair sleeper seemed not to exceed sixteen. Her shape was formed with the exactest symmetry, one of her hands supported her head, the other, as it lay carelessly stretched at her side, gave me an opportunity of admiring its admirable color and proportion. The thing covering upon her neck discovered part of its inimitable beauty to my eyes, but her face, her lovely face, fixed all my attention. Surgeon it is, madam, that out of this company it would be hard to find anything so perfect as what I now viewed. Her complexion was the purest white imaginable, heightened by the enchanting glow which dyed her fair cheeks with a color like that of a new-blown rose. Her lips, formed with the greatest perfection, and of a deeper red, seemed to receive new beauties from the fragrance of that breath that parted from them. Her auburn hair fell in loose ringlets over her neck, and some straggling curls that played upon her fair forehead, set off by a charming contrast the whiteness of that skin it partly hid. Her eyes, indeed, were closed, and though I knew not whether their color and beauty were equal to those other miracles in her face, yet their proportions seemed to be large, and the snowy lids which covered them were admirably set off by those long and sable lashes that adorned them. For some moments I gazed upon this lovely sleeper, wholly lost in wonder and admiration. Where, whispered I, where has this miracle been concealed that my eyes were never blessed with the sight of her before? These words, though I uttered them softly and with the utmost caution, yet by the murmuring noise they made caused an emotion in the beautyous sleeper that she started and presently after opened her eyes. But what words shall I find to express the wonder, the astonishment, and rapture which the sight of those bright stars inspired me with, the flames which started from those glorious orbs cast such a dazzling splendor upon a sight too weak to bear a radiance so unusual that, stepping back a few paces, I contemplated at a distance, that brightness which began already to kindle a consuming fire in my soul. Blest me, interrupted Sir Charles, confounded at so pompous the description. Who could this be? The pretty milkmaid, Dolly Acorn, replied Mr. Glanville gravely, did you never see her, sir, when you was at your seat at Blank? She used often to bring cream to my lady. I, I, replied Sir Charles, I remember her. She was a very pretty girl, and so it was from her eyes that all those splendours and flames came that had liked to have burnt you up, Sir George. Well, well, I guess how the story will end. Pray let us hear it out. I have already told you, madam, resumed Sir George. The marvellous effects, the sight of those bright eyes produced upon my spirit, I remained fixed in a posture of astonishment and delight, and all the faculties of my soul were so absorbed in the contemplation of the miracles before me, that I believe had she still continued before my eyes, I should never have moved from the place where I then stood. But the fair version, who had spied me at the small distance to which I was retired, turned hastily about and flew away with extraordinary swiftness. When love, now lending me wings, whom admiration had before made motionless, I pursued her so eagerly that at last I overtook her, and throwing myself upon my knees before her. Stay, I conjure you, cried I, and if you be a divinity as your celestial beauty makes me believe, do not refuse the adoration I offer you. But if, as I most ardently wish, you are immortal, though sure the fairest that ever graced the earth, stop a moment to look upon a man whose respect for you as a mortal, follow little short of those adorations he offers you as a goddess. I can't but think, cried Sir Charles, laughing, how poor Dolly must be surprised at such a rota-montade speech. Oh, sir, replied Mr. Glanville, you will find she will make as good a one. Will she, by my troth, said Sir Charles, I don't know how to believe it. This action, pursued Sir George, and the words I uttered, a little surprised that fair maid, and brought a blush into her lovely cheeks. But, recovering herself, she replied with an admirable grace. I am no divinity, said she, and therefore your adorations are misplaced. But if, as you say, my countenance moves you to any respect for me, give me a proof of it by not endeavoring to hold any further discourse with me, which has not permitted me from one of your sex and appearance. A very wise answer indeed, interrupted Sir Charles again. Very few town ladies would have disclaimed the title of goddess, if their lovers had thought proper to bestow it upon them. I am mightily pleased with the girl for her ingenuity. The discretion of so young a damsel, resumed Sir George, charmed me no less than her beauty, and I besought her with the utmost earnestness to permit me a longer conversation with her. Fear not, lovely virgin, said I, to listen to the vows of a man who, till he saw you, never learned to sigh. My heart, which defended its liberty against the charms of many admirable ladies, yields without reluctance to the pleasing violence your beauties lay upon me. Yes, too charming and dangerous stranger, I am no longer my own master. It is in your power to dispose of my destiny. Consider therefore I beseech you whether you can consent to see me die, for I swear to you by the most sacred oaths, unless you promise to have some compassion on me, I will no longer behold the light of day. You may easily conceive, madam, that considering this lovely maid in the character of a shepherdess, in which she appeared, I made her a declaration of my passion without thinking myself obliged to observe those respects, which, to a person of equal rank with myself, decorum would not have permitted me to forget. However, she repelled my boldness with so charming a modesty that I began to believe she might be a person of illustrious birth, disguised under the mean habit she wore. But having requested her to inform me who she was, she told me her name was Dorothea, and that she was daughter to a farmer that lived in the neighboring valley. This knowledge increasing my confidence, I talked to her of my passion without being the least afraid of offending her. And therein you was greatly to blame, said Arabella, for truly, though the fair Dorothea told you, she was the daughter to a farmer, yet in all probability she was of a much higher extraction, if the picture you have drawn of her be true. The fair Ashsinoe, Princess of Armenia, was constrained for a while to conceal her true name and quality, and pass for a simple countrywoman under the name of Delia. Yet the generous Philadelphe, Prince of Silesia, who saw and loved her under that disguise, treated her with all the respect he would have done had he known she was the daughter of a king. In like manner Prince Philoxopes, who fell in love with the beautiful Polycrete, before he knew she was the daughter of the great Solon, and while he looked upon her as a poor stranger, born of mean parents, nevertheless his love supplying the want of those advantages of birth and fortune, he wooed her with a passion of full of awe and delicacy, as if her extraction had been equal to his own. And therefore those admirable qualities the fair Dorothea possessed might also have convinced you she was not what she seemed, but, happily, some great princess in disguise. To tell you the truth, madam, replied Sir George, notwithstanding the fair Dorothea informed me she was of mean descent, I could not easily forego the opinion that she was of an illustrious birth, and the histories of those fair princesses you have mentioned, coming into my mind, I also thought it very possible that this divine person might be either be the daughter of a great king or law giver like them, but being wholly engrossed by the violence of my newborn affection, I listened to nothing but what most flattered my hopes, and addressing my lovely Shepherdess with all the freedom of a person who thinks his birth much superior to hers, she listened to my protestations without any seeming reluctance, and condescended to assure me before we parted that she did not hate me. So fair a beginning seemed to promise me the most favorable fortune I could with reason expect. I parted from my fair Shepherdess with a thousand vows of fidelity, exacting a promise from her that she would meet me as often as she conveniently could, and have the goodness to listen to those assurances of inviolable tenderness my passion prompted me to offer her. When she left me it seemed as if my soul had forsaken my body to go after her. My eyes pursued her steps as long as she was in sight. I envied the ground she pressed as she went along, and the breezes that kissed that celestial countenance in their flight. For some hours I stood in the same posture in which she had left me, contemplating the sudden change I had experienced in my heart, and the beauty of that divine image which was now engraven in it. Night drawing on I began to think of going home, and untying my horse, I returned the way I had come, and at last struck into a road which brought me to the place where I parted from the company. From once I easily found my way home, so changed both in my looks and carriage, that my father and all my friends observed the alteration with some surprise. The Female Quixote, Volume 2, by Charlotte Lennox Book 6, Chapter 2, in which Sir George, continuing his surprising history, relates a most stupendous instance of a valor only to be paralleled by that of the great Oroandates, Cesario, etc., etc., etc. For some months, continued Sir George, I prosecuted my addresses to the admirable Dorothea, and I flattered myself with a hope that I had made some progress in her heart. But alas, this deceitful fair one who only laughed at the torments she made me endure, at the time she vowed eternal constancy to me, gave her hand to a lover of her father's providing, and abandoned me without remorse to the most cruel despair. I will not trouble you, madam, with the repetition of those complaints which this perfidious action drew from me for a long time. At length, my courage enabling me to overcome the violence of my grief, I resolved to think of the ungrateful Dorothea no more, and the sight of another beauty completing my cure I no longer remembered the unfaithful Shepardus but with indifference. Thus, madam, have I faithfully related one of those infidelities wherewith my enemies slander me, who can support their assertion with no better proof than that I did not die when Dorothea abandoned me, but I submitted to your candor whether an unfaithful mistress deserved such an instance of affection from a lover she had betrayed. I really, replied Arabella, after a little pause, you had some excuse to plead for your failure in this point, and though you cannot be called the most perfect among lovers, seeing you neither died nor was in danger of dying, yet neither ought you to be ranked among those who are most culpable. But pray proceed in your story. I shall be better able to form a right judgment of your merit as a lover when I have heard all your adventures. My passion for Dorothea, resumed Sir George, being cured by her treachery towards me, the love of glory began again to revive in my soul. I panted after some occasion to signalize my valour, which yet I had met with no opportunity of doing. But hearing that a mighty army was preparing to march upon a secret expedition, I privately quitted my father's seat, and attended only by my faithful squire. I took the same route the army had taken, and arrived the day before the terrible battle of Blank was fought, where, without making myself known, I performed such prodigies of valour as astonished all who beheld me. Without doubt I should have been highly caressed by the commander, who certainly would have given me the honour of a victory my sword alone had procured for him. But having unwittingly engaged myself too far in pursuit of a flying enemy, I found myself alone, encompassed with a party of about five hundred men, who, seeing they were pursued only by a single man, faced about and prepared to kill me or take me prisoner. Praise, sir, interrupted Sir Charles. When did all this happen, and how came it to pass that your friends have been ignorant to this moment of those prodigies of valour you performed at this battle? I never heard you was ever in a battle. Fame has done you great injustice by concealing the part you had in that famous victory. The great care I took to conceal myself, replied Sir George, was one reason why my friends did not attribute to me the exploits, which the knight in black armour, who was no other than myself, performed, and the accident I am going to relate prevented my being discovered, while the memory of those great exploits were yet fresh in the minds of those I had so greatly obliged. Be pleased to know, therefore, madam, that seeing myself about to be encompassed by this party of the enemy, I disdain to fly, and though I was alone, resolved to sustain their attack, and sell my life as dear as possible. Why, if you did so, you was a madman, cried Sir Charles in heat. The bravest man that ever lived would not have presumed to fight with so great a number of enemies. What could you expect but to be cut in pieces? Pooh! Pooh! Don't think anybody will credit such a ridiculous tale. I never knew you was so addicted to, lying, perhaps the good knight would have said, but Sir George, who was concerned he was present at his legend, and could not blame him for doubting his veracity, prevented his utterance of a word he would be obliged to take ill by abruptly going on with his story. Placing my back, therefore, against a tree, pursued he, to prevent my being assaulted behind, I presented my shield to the boldest of these assailants, who, having struck an impotent blow upon it, as he was lifting up his arm to renew the attack, I cut it off with one stroke of my sword, and the same instant plunged it to the hilt in the breast of another, and clove the skull of a third who was making at me in two parts. Sir Charles, at this relation, burst into a loud fit of laughter, and, being more inclined to divert himself than be offended at the folly and vanity of the young baronet, he permitted him to go on with his surprising story, without giving him any other interruption. These three executions, madam, pursued Sir George, were the effects only of so many blows, which raised such indignation in my enemies that they pressed forward in great numbers to destroy me, but having, as I before said, posted myself so advantageously that I could only be assaulted before, not more than three or four could attack me at one time. The desire of lengthening out my life, till happily some sucker might come to my relief, so invigorated my arm, and added to my ordinary strength, an almost irresistible force, that I dealt death at every blow, and in less than a quarter of an hour, saw more than fifty of my enemies at my feet, whose bodies served for a bulwark against their fellow's swords. The commander of this little body, not having generosity enough to be moved with those prodigious effects of my valor in my favor, was transported with rage at my resistance, and the sight of so many of his men slain before his face served only to increase his fury, and that moment, seeing that, with two more blows, I had sent two of his most valiant soldiers to the shades, and that the rest fearing to come within the length of my sword had given me a few moments respite. Ah, cowards, cried he, are you afraid of a single man, and will you suffer him to escape from your vengeance who has slain so many of your brave comrades before your eyes? These words inspiring them with a fierceness such as he desired, they advanced toward me with more fury than before. By this time I had received several large wounds, and my blood ran down from many parts of my body, yet was I not sensible of any decay of strength, nor did the settled designs of my enemies to destroy me daunt me in the least. I still relied upon the assistance I expected Providence would send to my relief, and determined if possible to preserve my life till it arrived. I fought therefore with a resolution which astonished my enemies, but did not move them to any regard for my safety, and observing their brutal commander a few paces from me encouraging his men both with his cries and gestures, indignation against this inhuman wretch so transported me out of my discretion that I quitted my post in order to sacrifice him to my revenge. Seeing me advance furiously towards him, he turned pale with fear and endeavored to shelter himself in the midst of his men, who, more valiant than himself, opposed themselves to my rage to favor his retreat. But quickly clearing myself away with my sword, I pressed towards the barbarous coward, and ere he could avoid the blow I aimed at him, it struck him senseless at my feet. My particular revenge thus satisfied I was sensible of the fault I had committed in quitting my post, by which I exposed myself to be surrounded by the enemy. I endeavored to regain it, but in vain. I was beset on all sides, and now despaired of any safety, and therefore only sought to die courageously, and make as many of my enemy as I could attend my fall. Exasperated by the misfortunes of their commander, they pressed upon me with redoubled fury, faint as I was with the loss of blood, and so fatigued with the past action and the obstinate fight I had maintained so long with such a considerable number. I could hardly any longer lift up my arm, and to complete my misfortune, having thrust my sword into the body of one of the forwardest of my enemies, in my endeavouring to regain it, it broke in pieces, and the hilt only remained in my hand. This accident completed my defeat. Deprived of my sword, I was no longer capable of making any defence. Several of them pressed upon me at once, and throwing me down, tied my hands together behind me. Shame and rage at this indignity worked so forcibly upon my spirits, weakened as I then was, that I fell into a swoon. What happened till my recovery I was not able to tell, but at the return of my senses I found myself laid on a bed in a tolerable chamber, and some persons with me who kept a profound silence. The Female Quixote Volume 2 by Charlotte Lennox Book 6 Chapter 3 A Love Adventure After the Romantic Taste Recollecting in a few moments all that happened to me, I could not choose but be surprised at finding myself treated with so little severity, considering I was a prisoner to persons who had been witnesses of the great quantity of blood I had shed in my own defence. My wounds had been dressed while I continued in my swoon, and the faces of those persons who were about me expressed nothing of unkindness. After reflecting some time longer on my situation, I called to a young man who sat near my bedside, and entreated him to inform me where I was and to whom I was a prisoner, but could get no other answer to those questions than a most civil entreaty to compose myself and not protract the cure of my wounds by talking, which the surgeons had declared would be of a bad consequence and had therefore ordered me to be as little disturbed as possible. Notwithstanding this remonstrance, I repeated my request, promising to be entirely governed by them for the future in what regarded my health, providing they would satisfy me in those particulars. But my attendant did not so much as reply to those importunities, but, to prevent the continuance of them, rose from his seat and retired to the other end of the chamber. I passed that day and several others without being able to learn the truth of my condition. All this time I was diligently waited on by the two persons I had first seen, neither of whom I could prevail upon to inform me of what I desired to know, and judging by this obstinate reserve and the manner of my treatment, that there was some mystery in the case, I forbore to ask them any more questions, conceiving they had particular orders not to answer them. The care that was taken to forward my cure in three weeks entirely restored me to health. I longed impatiently to know what was to be my destiny and busied myself in conjecturing it in vain, when one morning an elderly lady entered my chamber at whose appearance my two attendants retired. After she had saluted me very civilly and inquired after my health, she seated herself in a chair nearby my bedside, and spoke to me in this manner. I make no question, sir, but you are surprised at the manner in which you have been treated, and the care there has been taken to prevent discovering to you the place where you are now. But you will doubtless be more surprised to hear you are in the fortress of Blank, and in the house of Prince Markomir, whose party you fought against alone, and whom you so dangerously wounded before you was taken prisoner by his men. Is it possible, madam, said I, who from the first moment of her appearance had been in a strange perplexity, is it possible I am in the house of a man whose life I endeavored so eagerly to destroy, and is it to him who oppressed me so basely with numbers that I am obliged for the sucker I have received? It is not to him, replied the lady, that you are obliged for the favourable treatment you have had, but listen to me patiently, and I will disclose the truth of your adventure. Prince Markomir, who was the person that headed that party against which you so valiantly defended yourself, after the loss of the battle, was hastening to throw himself into this place, where his sister and many ladies of quality had come for security. Your indiscreet pursuit engaged you in the most unequal combat that ever was fought, and— Nay, sir, interrupted Arabella, though I do not refuse to give you all the praises your gallant defence of yourself against five hundred men deserves, yet I cannot agree with that lady in saying it was the most unequal combat that ever was fought. For do but reflect, I beseech you, upon that which the brave prince of Mauritania sustained against twice that number of men, with no other arms than his sword, and you having been in battle that day was, I conceive, completely armed. The young prince of Egypt, accompanied only by the valiant but indiscreet Sepio, his friend, engaged all the king of Armenia's guards, and put them all to flight. The courageous Ariobasane scorned to turn his back upon a whole army, not to mention the invincible Artaban, whom a thousand armies together could not have made to turn. Be pleased to observe, madam, said Sir George, that to the end I may faithfully recount my history. I am under a necessity of repeating things which, happily, may seem too advantageous for a man to say of himself. Therefore I indeed greatly approve of the custom which, no doubt, this inconvenience he introduced, of a squire who is thoroughly instructed with the secrets of his master's heart relating his adventures, and giving a proper eulogium of his rare valor, without being in danger of offending the modesty of the renowned knight, who, as you know, madam, upon those occasions, commodiously slips away. It being, however, this lady's opinion, that no man ever undertook a more hazardous combat, or with greater odds against him, she did not fail to express her admiration of it in very high terms. The noise of this accident, pursued she, was soon spread over the whole town, and the beautiful Psydemirus, Marco Mir's sister, hearing that her brother was wounded, as it was thought to death, and that the person who killed him was taken prisoner, she flew out to meet her wounded brother, distracted with grief, and vowing to have the severest tortures executed on him who had thus barbarously murdered her brother. Those who bore that unhappy prince, having brought him into the house, his wounds were searched, and the surgeons declared they were very dangerous. Psydemirus, hearing this, redoubled her complaints and vows of vengeance against you, her brother having then the chief authority in the place, she commanded in his name to have you brought thither, and to be most strictly guarded, determined if her brother died to sacrifice you to his ghost. Full of these sanguinary resolutions, she left his chamber, having seen him laid in bed, and his wounds dressed, but passing along a gallery to her own apartment, she met the persons who were bringing you to the room that was to be your prison. You was not, pursued the lady, yet recovered from your smoon, so that they carried you like one that was dead, they had taken off your helmet to give you air, by which means your face being quite uncovered, pale, languishing, and your eyes closed as if in death, presented the most moving, and at the same time, most pleasing object in the world. Psydemirus, who stopped and for a moment eagerly gazed upon you, lost all of a sudden the fierceness which had before animated her against you, and lifting up her eyes to view those men that carried you, are you sure, said she to them, that this is the person who wounded my brother? Yes, madam, replied one of them, this must be he since there was no other in his company, and he alone sustained the attack of five hundred men and would probably not have left one of them alive, had not his sword, by breaking, put it into our power to take him prisoner. Carry him away, said Psydemirus, but let his wounds be dressed, and let him be carefully looked to, that if my brother dies, he may be punished as he deserves. Pronouncing these words in a low and faltering voice, she turned her eyes a second time upon you, then hastily averting her looks, she hurried to her own chamber, and threw herself into a chair with all the marks of a very great disturbance. The affection I have for her, being the person who had brought her up, and most favoured with her confidence, made me behold her in this condition with great concern, and supposing it was her brother that disquieted her, I besought her not to give away the violence of her grief, but to hope that heaven would restore him to her prayers. Alas, my dear Urinoe, said she, I am more culpable than you can imagine, and I grieve less for the condition to which I see Mark-Komir reduced, than for that moderation wherewith I am constrained, spite of myself to behold his enemy. Yes, dear Urinoe, pursu- chi, blushing and casting down her eyes, the actions of this unknown appear to me in quite another light since I have seen him, and instead of looking upon him as the murderer of my brother, I cannot help admiring that rare valor with which he defended himself against so great a number of enemies, and I am even ready to condemn the furious Mark-Komir for oppressing so brave a man. As I never approved of those violent transports of grief and rage which she had expressed upon the first news of her brother's misfortune, and as I looked upon your glorious defence with the utmost admiration, so, far from condemning the change of her thoughts, I confirmed her in the favourable opinion she began to entertain of you, and continuing to make remarks upon all the particulars of the combat which had come to our knowledge, we found nothing in your behaviour but what increased our admiration. Psydemerus, therefore, following the dictates of her own generosity as well as my advice, placed two persons about you whose fidelity we could rely on, and gave them orders to treat you with all imaginable care and respect, but not to inform you of the place in which you was, or to whom you was prisoner. In the meantime, Markomir, whose wounds had been again examined, was declared out of danger by the surgeons, and he having understood the excess of his sister's grief and the revenge she had vowed against you gave her thanks for those expressions of her tenderness, and also uttered some threats which intimated a violent hatred against you, and a design of prosecuting his revenge upon you as soon as he was in a condition to leave his chamber. Psydemerus, who heard him, could with difficulty disemble her concern. Ah, Urinoe, said she to me when we were alone, tis now that I more than ever repent of that excess of rage which transported me against the brave unknown. I have thereby put him entirely into my brother's power, and shall be happily accessory to that death he is meditating for him or else a perpetual imprisonment. This reflection gave her so much pain that I could not choose but pity her, and considering that the only way to preserve you was for her to disemble her age equal to Markomir's against you, in order to prevent being suspected of any design in your favor. I persuaded her to join with him in everything he said, while in the meantime we would endeavor to get you cured of your wounds, that you might at least be in a condition once more to defend yourself with that miraculous valor heaven has bestowed upon you. Psydemerus, perceiving her brother would soon be in a condition to execute his threats, resolved to hazard everything rather than to expose you to his rage. She therefore communicated to me her design of giving you liberty, and by presenting a sufficient reward to your guard, inducing them to favor your escape. I undertook to manage this business in her name, and having done it so effectually that you will this night be at liberty, and may depart the town immediately, in which it will be dangerous to stay any time for fear of being discovered. Psydemerus forbade me to let you know the person to whom you would be obliged for your freedom, but I could not endure that you should unjustly involve the sister of Markomir, in that resentment you will questionless always preserve against him, and to keep you from being innocently guilty of ingratitude, I resolved to acquaint you with the nature of those obligations you owe to her.