279 [=281]

[279]

[Lett. lxxvi. Letters Historical and Galant.]

in my humble opinion, who am strongly prejudiced in favour of the Proverb, never to Love a Priest but at the
altar &c. and would be more fitting some young Gentleman of the Guards than the finest powder'd Churchman;
but every one to their Taste, we are to dispute no more about that. That of the Countess of M** determined in
favour of her Parson, perhaps it was for want of a better. For in the Country one has not the pleasure of Choosing as
at Paris. Be that as it will, an Intrigue was formed, and in spite of the precautions of the two Lovers, the Domesticks
discovered their Intelligence. It was said that this Commerce was criminal, and one of the most zealous for the Interest
of his Master, determined to acquaint him with what pass'd at home, and tho' he knew very well that such offices are
always less agreeable than useful, he was satisfied to undergo the fate of Corbeau to preserve his Master from that
of Acteon. His business was to make haste for fear his account should come too late. He took post accordingly upon
some other pretence, and joined the Count with all possible Expedition, who without Amusing himself with Reflections
like Ioconde, upon much such another affair, took post in his turn and got home incognito, where he hid himself
in a place from whence he could see what pass'd, and after being convinced of what he wanted to know, and did
not wish to find true, and having seen the Pastor enter the Chamber of his dear Sleep, and bolt the door inside,
He left his Ambuscade, broke open the door of that fatal Chamber, and interrupted the Priest in the midst of his Amo
rous Period. This was not all: without respect to his character he was tyed neck and heels, and they performed
instantly upon him the Cruel Operation which the famous Abelard's Uncle formerly made him undergo; after
which the Graduate was tryed to a horse's Tail and ignominiously dragg'd to the River ** into which they
threw him, and where by losing his Life, he quench'd his Criminal Ardours. The Lady that gave birth to them
was conducted by her husband to a Convent, where she is closely confined, and the Count took post again after this
Vigorous Expedition, and rejoined his Regiment with such speed, that [?] had hardly time to know he was absent.
There has been no presecution entered into as yet, and for the honour of the Family the Relations have endeavoured
to hush it all up, by giving those of the Priest a sum of Money to stop their mouths. Thus this Adventure has not
made all the Noise it should have done. Tis known notwithstanding; but as the Count has offended only in point
of form, by doing himself justices, and the Curate was the sole Criminal, Nobody cares to make himself a party in
this affair. Nay I believe the King makes as if he knew nothing of it, at lease methinks, tis the best Card he can
play thereupon, and that the Vengeance of a provoked husband may easily be pardoned, especially when the object
is nothing but a Country Parson. I admire the Count's Discretion upon this Occasion, and his moderation in not sacri
ficing his Wife too to his Resentment. I dont know whether even that had not been better for her: for besides that, as
the Opera says, it unites two Lovers to sacrifice them together: Besides this, I say, she is much worse off in the
place where she is confined. Not return for her in the hearrt of her husband; No means of seeing the World again, no possibli
ty of appearing in it with honour. Such a life as this ought to seem worse than Death to a youjng Woman, and twere better
to dye a hundred times a day than to live in so sad a way. This is the Consequence sooner or later of Guilt, and this
might lead me into Reflections as serious as useful, if I was not sure that you have no need of their Assistance to contain
you within the Rules of Duty, and did not know too that you can make Reflections Much better than I, so that it would
be, as they say, talking Latin to Cordeliers: This is my reason for sticking close to my story. I shall give
you another.

Madam L** Your good friend and Mine, was visited t'other day by a poor Country Squire, husband
to one of her near Relations, and much of Mr. de Sotenville's make. The Foshunter was reaged in the house, after
which he took leave, and seem'd to take the Road to his Cabbin. But instead of that, he hid himself in a room where
he knew that Madam L** Kept her Jewels. He had seen her open the Cabinet where they were, and that sight had
inspired him with the temptation of stealing them, while the people of the house were passing the Evening far enough
from that they were to lye in. and the Domesticks were sitting quietly at supper in the Kitchen. As they thought he
had gone away in the afternoon, they would never have suspected him, and as he was very well acquainted with the
house, it would have been easy for him to get away by a back door and escape without being perceived; but how
just soever his measures were, he miss'd his aim notwithstanding. He had already opened the Cabinet, and the Jewels
were in his pocket when Madam L**'s Children took a fancy to go into that Room to play at Blind man's buff.
The Gentleman had only time to hide himself behind the Tapistry when he heard them coming. But how close soever
he lay, the little Gang soon discovered him. "What are you doing there, Cousin, cryed tehy immediately ---- Hush
"answered he, I hid my self to frighten you, but you must not say a Word of it." When one speaks to Children
he need not be very eloquent to persuade them. They gave into the snare, and promised to keep the Secret. The