"My father came to see me in the afternoon. He tried in the most affectionate manner, to soothe my grief. He desired me so urgently to take some refreshment, that, to gratify him, I obeyed his wishes. Several days passed, during which I took nothing but in his presence, and at his special request. He continued to furnish new arguments to restore me to my proper senses, and to inspire me with merited contempt for the faithless Manon. I certainly had lost all esteem for her: how could I esteem the most fickle and perfidious of created beings! But her image--those exquisite features, which were engraven on my heart's core, were still uneffaced. I understood my own feelings: `I may die,' said I, `and I ought to die after so much shame and grief; but I might suffer a thousand deaths without being able to forget the ingrate Manon.'
"My father was surprised at my still continuing so powerfully affected. He knew that I was imbued with the principles of honour; and not doubting that her infidelity must make me despise her, fancied that my obstinacy proceeded less from this particular passion, than from a general inclination towards the ***. This idea so took possession of his mind, that, prompted only by his affection for me, he came one day to reveal his thoughts. `Chevalier,' said he to me, `it has been hitherto my intention to make you bear the Cross of Malta: I now see that your inclinations do not bend that way. You are an admirer of beauty. I shall be able to find you a wife to your taste. Let me candidly know how you feel upon the subject.'
"I answered that I could never again see the slightest difference amongst women, and that after the misfortune I had experienced, I detested them all equally. `I will find you one,' replied my father, smiling, `who shall resemble Manon in beauty, but who shall be more faithful.' `Ah! if you have any mercy,' said I, `you will restore my Manon to me. Be assured, my dear father, that she has not betrayed me; she is incapable of such base and cruel treachery. It is the perfidious B---- who deceives both her and me. If you could form an idea of her tenderness and her sincerity--if you only knew her, you yourself would love her!' `You are absolutely a child,' replied my father. `How can you so delude yourself, after what I have told you about her? It was she who actually delivered you up to your brother. You ought to obliterate even her name from your memory, and take advantage, if you are wise, of the indulgence I am showing you.'
"I very clearly perceived that my father was right. It was an involuntary emotion that made me thus take part with the traitor.
`Alas!' replied I, after a moment's silence, `it is but too true that I am the unhappy victim of the vilest perfidy. Yes,' I continued, while shedding tears of anger, `I too clearly perceive that I am indeed but a child. Credulity like mine was easily gulled; but I shall be at no loss to revenge myself.' My father enquired of me my intentions: `I will go to Paris,' I said, `set fire to B----'s house, and immolate him and the perfidious Manon together.' This burst made my father laugh, and had only the effect of causing me to be more vigilantly watched in my cell.
I thus passed six long months; during the first of which my mind underwent little change. My feelings were in a state of perpetual alternation between hate and love; between hope and despair; according as, the tendency of each passing thought brought Manon back to my recollection. At one time, I could see in her the most delightful of women only, and sigh for the pleasure of beholding her once more; at another, I felt she was the most unworthy and perfidious of mistresses, and I would on these occasions swear never again to seek her, but for the purpose of revenge.
"I was supplied with books, which served to restore my peace of mind. I read once again all my favourite authors; and I became acquainted with new ones. All my former taste for study was revived. You will see of what use this was to me in the sequel.
The light I had already derived from love, enabled me to comprehend many passages in Horace and Virgil which had before appeared obscure. I wrote an amatory commentary upon the fourth book of the AEneid. I intend one day to publish it, and I flatter myself it will be popular.
"`Alas!' I used to exclaim, whilst employed on that work, it was for a heart like mine the faithful Dido sighed, and sighed in vain!'
IV
Now, by the strange enchantment that surrounds thee, There's nothing--nothing thou shalt ask in vain.
