The Works of Aphra Behn

The Night that finished this fatal Day, he goes again to his wonted Station, the Window; where he had not sighed very long, but he saw Atlante enter the Balcony: He was not able a great while to speak to her, or to utter one Word. The Night was light enough to see him at the wonted Place; and she admires at his Silence, and demands the Reason in such obliging Terms as adds to his Grief; and he, with a deep Sigh, reply’d, ‘Urge me not, my fair Atlante, to speak, lest by obeying you I give you more cause of Grief than my Silence is capable of doing’: and then sighing again, he held his peace, and gave her leave to ask the Cause of these last Words. But when he made no Reply but by sighing, she imagin’d it much worse than indeed it was; and with a trembling and fainting Voice, she cried, ‘Oh! Rinaldo, give me leave to divine that cruel News you are so unwilling to tell me: It is so,’ added she, ‘you are destin’d to some more fortunate Maid than Atlante.’ At this Tears stopped her Speech, and she could utter no more. ‘No, my dearest Charmer (reply’d Rinaldo, elevating his Voice) if that were all, you should see with what Fortitude I would die, rather than obey any such Commands. I am vow’d yours to the last Moment of my Life; and will be yours in spite of all the Opposition in the World: that Cruelty I could evade, but cannot this that threatens me.’ ‘Ah! (cried Atlante) let Fate do her worst, so she still continue Rinaldo mine, and keep that Faith he hath sworn to me entire: What can she do beside, that can afflict me?’ ‘She can separate me (cried he) for some time from Atlante.’ ‘Oh! (reply’d she) all Misfortunes fall so below that which I first imagin’d, that methinks I do not resent this, as I should otherwise have done: but I know, when I have a little more consider’d it, I shall even die with the Grief of it; Absence being so great an Enemy to Love, and making us soon forget the Object belov’d: This, tho’ I never experienc’d, I have heard, and fear it may be my Fate.’ He then convinc’d her Fears with a thousand new Vows, and a thousand Imprecations of Constancy. She then asked him, ‘If their Loves were discover’d, that he was with such haste to depart?’ He told her, ‘Nothing of that was the Cause; and he could almost wish it were discover’d, since he could resolutely then refuse to go: but it was only to cultivate his Mind more effectually than he could do here; ’twas the Care of his Father to accomplish him the more; and therefore he could not contradict it. But (said he) I am not sent where Seas shall part us, nor vast Distances of Earth, but to Paris, from whence he might come in two Days to see her again; and that he would expect from that Balcony, that had given him so many happy Moments, many more when he should come to see her.’ He besought her to send him away with all the Satisfaction she could, which she could no otherwise do, than by giving him new Assurances that she would never give away that Right he had in her to any other Lover: She vows this with innumerable Tears; and is almost angry with him for questioning her Faith. He tells her he has but one Night more to stay, and his Grief would be unspeakable, if he should not be able to take a better leave of her, than at a Window; and that, if she would give him leave, he would by a Rope or two, tied together, so as it may serve for Steps, ascend her Balcony; he not having time to provide a Ladder of Ropes. She tells him she has so great a Confidence in his Virtue and Love, that she will refuse him nothing, tho’ it would be a very bold Venture for a Maid, to trust her self with a passionate young Man, in silence of Night: and tho’ she did not extort a Vow from him to secure her, she expected he would have a care of her Honour. He swore to her, his Love was too religious for so base an Attempt. There needed not many Vows to confirm her Faith; and it was agreed on between them, that he should come the next Night into her Chamber.

It happen’d that Night, as it often did, that Count Vernole lay with Monsieur De Pais, which was in a Ground-Room, just under that of Atlante’s. As soon as she knew all were in bed, she gave the word to Rinaldo, who was attending with the Impatience of a passionate Lover below, under the Window; and who no sooner heard the Balcony open, but he ascended with some difficulty, and enter’d the Chamber, where he found Atlante trembling with Joy and Fear: He throws himself at her Feet, as unable to speak as she; who nothing but blushed and bent down her Eyes, hardly daring to glance them towards the dear Object of her Desires, the Lord of all her Vows: She was asham’d to see a Man in her Chamber, where yet none had ever been alone, and by Night too. He saw her Fear, and felt her trembling; and after a thousand Sighs of Love had made way for Speech, he besought her to fear nothing from him, for his Flame was too sacred, and his Passion too holy to offer any thing but what Honour with Love might afford him. At last he brought her to some Courage, and the Roses of her fair Cheeks assum’d their wonted Colour, not blushing too red, nor languishing too pale. But when the Conversation began between them, it was the softest in the world: They said all that parting Lovers could say; all that Wit and Tenderness could express: They exchanged their Vows anew; and to confirm his, he tied a Bracelet of Diamonds about her Arm, and she returned him one of her Hair, which he had long begged, and she had on purpose made, which clasped together with Diamonds; this she put about his Arm, and he swore to carry it to his Grave. The Night was far spent in tender Vows, soft Sighs and Tears on both sides, and it was high time to part: but, as if Death had been to have arrived to them in that Minute, they both linger’d away the time, like Lovers who had forgot themselves; and the Day was near approaching when he bid farewel, which he repeated very often: for still he was interrupted by some commanding Softness from Atlante, and then lost all his Power of going; till she, more courageous and careful of his Interest and her own Fame, forc’d him from her: and it was happy she did, for he was no sooner got over the Balcony, and she had flung him down his Rope, and shut the Door, but Vernole, whom Love and Contrivance kept waking, fancy’d several times he heard a Noise in Atlante’s Chamber. And whether in passing over the Balcony, Rinaldo made any Noise or not, or whether it were still his jealous Fancy, he came up in his Night-Gown, with a Pistol in his Hand. Atlante was not so much lost in Grief, tho’ she were all in Tears, but she heard a Man come up, and imagin’d it had been her Father, she not knowing of Count Vernole’s lying in the House that Night; if she had, she possibly had taken more care to have been silent; but whoever it was, she could not get to bed soon enough, and therefore turn’d her self to her Dressing-Table, where a Candle stood, and where lay a Book open of the Story of Ariadne and Theseus. The Count turning the Latch, enter’d halting into her Chamber in his Night-Gown clapped close about him, which betray’d an ill-favour’d Shape, his Night-Cap on, without a Perriwig, which discover’d all his lean wither’d Jaws, his pale Face, and his Eyes staring: and made altogether so dreadful a Figure, that Atlante, who no more dreamt of him than of a Devil, had possibly have rather seen the last. She gave a great Shriek, which frighted Vernole; so both stood for a while staring on each other, till both were recollected: He told her the Care of her Honour had brought him thither; and then rolling his small Eyes round the Chamber, to see if he could discover any body, he proceeded, and cry’d, ‘Madam, if I had no other Motive than your being up at this time of Night, or rather of Day, I could easily guess how you have been entertain’d.’ ‘What Insolence is this (said she, all in a rage) when to cover your Boldness of approaching my Chamber at this Hour, you would question how I have been entertain’d! Either explain your self, or quit my Chamber; for I do not use to see such terrible Objects here.’ ‘Possibly those you do see (said the Count) are indeed more agreeable, but I am afraid have not that Regard to your Honour as I have’: And at that word he stepped to the Balcony, open’d it, and look’d out; but seeing no body, he shut it to again. This enraged Atlante beyond all Patience; and snatching the Pistol out of his Hand, she told him, He deserved to have it aimed at his Head, for having the Impudence to question her Honour, or her Conduct; and commanded him to avoid her Chamber as he lov’d his Life, which she believ’d he was fonder of than of her Honour. She speaking this in a Tone wholly transported with Rage, and at the same time holding the Pistol towards him, made him tremble with Fear; and he now found, whether she were guilty or not, it was his turn to beg Pardon: For you must know, however it came to pass that his Jealousy made him come up in that fierce Posture, at other times Vernole was the most tame and passive Man in the World, and one who was afraid of his own Shadow in the Night: He had a natural Aversion for Danger, and thought it below a Man of Wit, or common Sense, to be guilty of that brutal thing, called Courage or Fighting; His Philosophy told him, It was safe sleeping in a whole Skin; and possibly he apprehended as much Danger from this Virago, as ever he did from his own Sex. He therefore fell on his Knees, and besought her to hold her fair Hand, and not to suffer that, which was the greatest Mark of his Respect, to be the Cause of her Hate or Indignation. The pitiful Faces he made, and the Signs of Mortal Fear in him, had almost made her laugh, at least it allay’d her Anger; and she bid him rise and play the fool hereafter somewhere else, and not in her Presence; yet for once she would deign to give him this Satisfaction, that she was got into a Book, which had many moving Stories very well writ; and that she found her self so well entertain’d, she had forgot how the Night passed. He most humbly thanked her for this Satisfaction, and retired, perhaps not so well satisfied as he pretended.

After this, he appear’d more submissive and respectful towards Atlante; and she carry’d herself more reserv’d and haughty towards him; which was one Reason, he would not yet discover his Passion.

Thus the Time run on at Orleans, while Rinaldo found himself daily languishing at Paris. He was indeed in the best Academy in the City, amongst a Number of brave and noble Youths, where all things that could accomplish them, were to be learn’d by those that had any Genius; but Rinaldo had other Thoughts, and other Business: his Time was wholly past in the most solitary Parts of the Garden, by the melancholy Fountains, and in the most gloomy Shades, where he could with most Liberty breathe out his Passion and his Griefs. He was past the Tutorage of a Boy; and his Masters could not upbraid him, but found he had some secret Cause of Grief, which made him not mind those Exercises, which were the Delight of the rest: so that nothing being able to divert his Melancholy, which daily increased upon him, he fear’d it would bring him into a Fever, if he did not give himself the Satisfaction of seeing Atlante. He had no sooner thought of this, but he was impatient to put it in execution; he resolved to go (having very good Horses) without acquainting any of his Servants with it. He got a very handsom and light Ladder of Ropes made, which he carry’d under his Coat, and away he rid for Orleans, stay’d at a little Village, till the Darkness of the Night might favour his Design: And then walking about Atlante’s Lodgings, till he saw a Light in her Chamber, and then making that Noise on his Sword, as was agreed between them, he was heard by his adorable Atlante, and suffer’d to mount her Chamber, where he would stay till almost break of Day, and then return to the Village, and take Horse, and away for Paris again. This, once in a Month, was his Exercise, without which he could not live; so that his whole Year was past in riding between Orleans and Paris, between Excess of Grief, and Excess of Joy by turns.

It was now that Atlante, arrived to her fifteenth Year, shone out with a Lustre of Beauty greater than ever; and in this Year, in the Absence of Rinaldo, had carry’d herself with that Severity of Life, without the youthful Desire of going abroad, or desiring any Diversion, but what she found in her own retired Thoughts, that Vernole, wholly unable longer to conceal his Passion, resolv’d to make a Publication of it, first to the Father, and then to the lovely Daughter, of whom he had some Hope, because she had carry’d her self very well towards him for this Year past; which she would never have done, if she had imagin’d he would ever have been her Lover: She had seen no Signs of any such Misfortune towards her in these many Years he had conversed with her, and she had no Cause to fear him. When one Day her Father taking her into the Garden, told her what Honour and Happiness was in store for her; and that now the Glory of his fall’n Family would rise again, since she had a Lover of an illustrious Blood, ally’d to Monarchs; and one whose Fortune was newly encreased to a very considerable Degree, answerable to his Birth. She changed Colour at this Discourse, imagining but too well who this illustrious Lover was; when De Pais proceeded and told her, ‘Indeed his Person was not the most agreeable that ever was seen: but he marry’d her to Glory and Fortune, not the Man: And a Woman (says he) ought to look no further.’

She needed not any more to inform her who this intended Husband was; and therefore, bursting forth into Tears, she throws herself at his Feet, imploring him not to use the Authority of a Father, to force her to a thing so contrary to her Inclination: assuring him, she could not consent to any such thing; and that she would rather die than yield. She urged many Arguments for this her Disobedience; but none would pass for current with the old Gentleman, whose Pride had flatter’d him with Hopes of so considerable a Son-in-law: He was very much surpriz’d at Atlante’s refusing what he believ’d she would receive with Joy; and finding that no Arguments on his Side could draw hers to an obedient Consent, he grew to such a Rage, as very rarely possest him: vowing, if she did not conform her Will to his, he would abandon her to all the Cruelty of Contempt and Poverty: so that at last she was forced to return him this Answer, ‘That she would strive all she could with her Heart; but she verily believed she should never bring it to consent to a Marriage with Monsieur the Count.’ The Father continued threatning her, and gave her some Days to consider of it: So leaving her in Tears, he returned to his Chamber, to consider what Answer he should give Count Vernole, who he knew would be impatient to learn what Success he had, and what himself was to hope. De Pais, after some Consideration, resolved to tell him, she receiv’d the Offer very well, but that he must expect a little Maiden-Nicety in the Case: and accordingly did tell him so; and he was not at all doubtful of his good Fortune.

But Atlante, who resolved to die a thousand Deaths rather than break her solemn Vows to Rinaldo, or to marry the Count, cast about how she should avoid it with the least Hazard of her Father’s Rage. She found Rinaldo the better and more advantageous Match of the two, could they but get his Father’s Consent: He was beautiful and young; his Title was equal to that of Vernole, when his Father should die; and his Estate exceeded his: yet she dares not make a Discovery, for fear she should injure her Lover; who at this Time, though she knew it not, lay sick of a Fever, while she was wondering that he came not as he used to do. However she resolves to send him a Letter, and acquaint him with the Misfortune; which she did in these Terms:

ATLANTE to RINALDO

My Father’s Authority would force me to violate my sacred Vows to you, and give them to the Count Vernole, whom I mortally hate, yet could wish him the greatest Monarch in the World, that I might shew you I could even then despise him for your Sake. My Father is already too much enraged by my Denial, to hear Reason from me, if I should confess to him my Vows to you: So that I see nothing but a Prospect of Death before me; for assure your self, my Rinaldo, I will die rather than consent to marry any other: Therefore come my Rinaldo, and come quickly, to see my Funerals, instead of those Nuptials they vainly expect from

Your FaithfulATLANTE.

This Letter Rinaldo receiv’d; and there needed no more to make him fly to Orleans: This raised him soon from his Bed of Sickness, and getting immediately to horse, he arrived at his Father’s House; who did not so much admire to see him, because he heard he was sick of a Fever, and gave him leave to return, if he pleas’d: He went directly to his Father’s House, because he knew somewhat of the Business, he was resolv’d to make his Passion known, as soon as he had seen Atlante, from whom he was to take all his Measures: He therefore fail’d not, when all were in Bed, to rise and go from his Chamber into the Street; where finding a Light in Atlante’s Chamber, for she every Night expected him, he made the usual Sign, and she went into the Balcony; and he having no Conveniency of mounting up into it, they discoursed, and said all they had to say. From thence she tells him of the Count’s Passion, of her Father’s Resolution, and that her own was rather to die his, than live any Body’s else: And at last, as their Refuge, they resolv’d to discover the whole Matter; she to her Father, and he to his, to see what Accommodation they could make; if not, to die together. They parted at this Resolve, for she would permit him no longer to stay in the Street after such a Sickness; so he went home to bed, but not to sleep.

The next Day, at Dinner, Monsieur Bellyaurd believing his Son absolutely cur’d, by Absence, of his Passion; and speaking of all the News in the Town, among the rest, told him he was come in good time to dance at the Wedding of Count Vernole with Atlante, the Match being agreed on: ‘No, Sir (reply’d Rinaldo) I shall never dance at the Marriage of Count Vernole with Atlante; and you will see in Monsieur De Pais’s House a Funeral sooner than a Wedding.’ And thereupon he told his Father all his Passion for that lovely Maid; and assur’d him, if he would not see him laid in his Grave, he must consent to this Match. Bellyaurd rose in a Fury, and told him, ‘He had rather see him in his Grave, than in the Arms of Atlante: Not (continued he) so much for any Dislike I have to the young Lady, or the Smallness of her Fortune; but because I have so long warn’d you from such a Passion, and have with such Care endeavour’d by your Absence to prevent it.’ He travers’d the Room very fast, still protesting against this Alliance: and was deaf to all Rinaldo could say. On the other side the Day being come, wherein Atlante was to give her final Answer to her Father concerning her Marriage with Count Vernole; she assum’d all the Courage and Resolution she could, to withstand the Storm that threatned a Denial. And her Father came to her, and demanding her Answer, she told him, ‘She could not be the Wife of Vernole, since she was Wife to Rinaldo, only son to Bellyaurd.’ If her Father storm’d before, he grew like a Man distracted at her Confession; and Vernole hearing them loud, ran to the Chamber to learn the Cause; where just as he enter’d he found De Pais’s Sword drawn, and ready to kill his Daughter, who lay all in Tears at his Feet. He with-held his Hand; and asking the Cause of his Rage, he was told all that Atlante had confess’d; which put Vernole quite beside all his Gravity, and made him discover the Infirmity of Anger, which he used to say ought to be dissembled by all wise Men: So that De Pais forgot his own to appease his, but ’twas in vain, for he went out of the House, vowing Revenge to Rinaldo: And to that end, being not very well assur’d of his own Courage, as I said before, and being of the Opinion, that no Man ought to expose his Life to him who has injur’d him; he hired Swiss and Spanish Soldiers to attend him in the nature of Footmen; and watch’d several Nights about Bellyaurd’s Door, and that of De Pais’s, believing he should some time or other see him under the Window of Atlante, or perhaps mounting into it: for now he no longer doubted, but this happy Lover was he, whom he fancy’d he heard go from the Balcony that Night he came up with his Pistol; and being more a Spaniard than a Frenchman in his Nature, he resolv’d to take him any way unguarded or unarm’d, if he came in his Way.

Atlante, who heard his Threatnings when he went from her in a Rage, fear’d his Cowardice might put him on some base Action, to deprive Rinaldo of his Life; and therefore thought it not safe to suffer him to come to her by Night, as he had before done; but sent him word in a Note, that he should forbear her Window, for Vernole had sworn his Death. This Note came, unseen by his Father, to his Hands: but this could not hinder him from coming to her Window, which he did as soon as it was dark: he came thither, only attended with his Valet, and two Footmen; for now he car’d not who knew the Secret. He had no sooner made the Sign, but he found himself incompass’d with Vernole’s Bravoes; and himself standing at a distance cry’d out, ‘That is he’: With that they all drew on both sides, and Rinaldo receiv’d a Wound in his Arm. Atlante heard this, and ran crying out, ‘That Rinaldo, prest by Numbers, would be kill’d.’ De Pais, who was reading in his Closet, took his Sword, and ran out; and, contrary to all Expectation, seeing Rinaldo fighting with his Back to the Door, pull’d him into the House, and fought himself with the Bravoes: who being very much wounded by Rinaldo, gave ground, and sheer’d off; and De Pais, putting up old Bilbo into the Scabbard, went into his House, where he found Rinaldo almost fainting with loss of Blood, and Atlante, with her Maids binding up his Wound; to whom De Pais said, ‘This charity, Atlante, very well becomes you, and is what I can allow you; and I could wish you had no other Motive for this Action.’ Rinaldo by degrees recover’d of his Fainting, and as well as his Weakness would permit him, he got up and made a low Reverence to De Pais, telling him, ‘He had now a double Obligation to pay him all the Respect in the World; first, for his being the Father of Atlante; and secondly, for being the Preserver of his Life: two Tyes that should eternally oblige him to love and honour him, as his own Parent.’ De Pais reply’d, ‘He had done nothing but what common Humanity compell’d him to do: But if he would make good that Respect he profess’d towards him, it must be in quitting all Hopes of Atlante, whom he had destin’d to another, or an eternal Inclosure in a Monastery: He had another Daughter, whom if he would think worthy of his Regard, he should take his Alliance as a very great Honour; but his Word and Reputation, nay his Vows were past, to give Atlante to Count Vernole.’ Rinaldo, who before he spoke took measure from Atlante’s Eyes, which told him her Heart was his, return’d this Answer to De Pais, ‘That he was infinitely glad to find by the Generosity of his Offer, that he had no Aversion against his being his Son-in-law; and that, next to Atlante, the greatest Happiness he could wish would be his receiving Charlot from his Hand; but that he could not think of quitting Atlante, how necessary soever it would be, for Glory, and his – (the further) Repose.’ De Pais would not let him at this time argue the matter further, seeing he was ill, and had need of looking after; he therefore begg’d he would for his Health’s sake retire to his own House, whither he himself conducted him, and left him to the Care of his Men, who were escap’d the Fray; and returning to his own Chamber, he found Atlante retir’d, and so he went to bed full of Thoughts. This Night had increas’d his Esteem for Rinaldo, and lessen’d it for Count Vernole; but his Word and Honour being past, he could not break it, neither with Safety nor Honour: for he knew the haughty resenting Nature of the Count, and he fear’d some Danger might arrive to the brave Rinaldo, which troubled him very much. At last he resolv’d, that neither might take any thing ill at his Hands, to lose Atlante, and send her to the Monastery where her Sister was, and compel her to be a Nun. This he thought would prevent Mischiefs on both sides; and accordingly, the next Day, (having in the Morning sent Word to the Lady Abbess what he would have done) he carries Atlante, under pretence of visiting her Sister, (which they often did) to the Monastery, where she was no sooner come, but she was led into the Inclosure: Her Father had rather sacrifice her, than she should be the Cause of the Murder of two such noble Men as Vernole and Rinaldo.