ABSTRACT
Villanova would not let me rest till I had accompanied him to the grate of Xaviera’s convent. The beautiful penitent appeared, and raising a veil, which was so contrived as to heighten the charms it affected to conceal, she discovered a face that every grace except a fine complexion united to render fascinating. Her fine eyes, which could assume every expression at pleasure, were cast down, and tears stole from them, as she again thanked her ‘dear cousin, her kind friend,’ for the pains he had taken for her. She then turned these charming, eyes on me – ‘You, Sir,’ said she, ‘know what a friend the Count de Villanova is – judge whether I can be ungrateful!’ – Our conversation was not long, as Don Julian avoided giving occasion to scandal, which might counteract all his projects. When we retired, he eagerly asked my opinion of Donna Xaviera: I confessed that I thought her infinitely attractive, and Villanova exclaimed – ‘Ah, my friend! I knew you would think so – I knew that one look from those enchanting eyes, one sentence from that harmonious tongue, would be my apology for all the weakness I have shewn – even for all I may shew – for now, since you have seen her, I will tell you that I am soliciting, though with the utmost secrecy, a dispensation from Rome to marry her when I have procured her release; and I am almost sure of obtaining it. You know that in Portugal the nearness of blood is an objection which such a dispensation removes, and her being my brother’s widow is an impediment which equally yields to the Pope’s permission.’ I saw that Villanova was too much bigoted to his religion, and to his mistress, to endure raillery or remonstrance, or I should not have failed to have represented to him the absurdity of his asking leave of an old man in Italy to marry a woman in Portugal; or of the danger he ran of repenting his confidence in the beautiful Xaviera, who, lovely as she undoubtedly was, had, with all her penitent looks, and Magdalen-like graces, a something in her air and countenance which seemed to say she was acting a part. I trembled for the repose of my friend; and though I might very probably, had I been situated as he was, have acted as he intended to act, I could not help wishing that, as a considerable time must yet elapse before his marriage, something or other might happen to prevent it. I had so lately suffered the tortures of jealousy, that I could not help trembling for their effect on a mind like that of Villanova, whose 63passion for Xaviera was now at an excess that resembled phrensy – I saw that he sometimes repented having told me of her frailties, and wished to explain away all he had said – he dwelt continually on the circumstances which had occasioned all their misfortunes; and brought many instances to prove, that whatever indiscretion there had been in Xaviera’s conduct (for he was now persuaded that they might be only indiscretions) arose solely from the disappointments she had experienced in her first affections. I affected to forget, since I saw that Villanova desired I should, the strongest circumstances he had related to me, and even tried to hope that his tender and persevering affection would win back, and fix for ever the heart of his fair mistress: but still, whenever I saw her, which was almost every day while we continued at the Quinta, this hope escaped me. I perceived that, notwithstanding her present situation, and the indefatigable attention of her deserving lover, her natural propensity to coquetry was such, that she could not help trying on me the effect of her charms; yet in such a way that Villanova never at all suspected that he was not the sole object for whom she endeavoured to render herself so amiable: – he confessed to me that she was, in his eyes, infinitely more so than ever.
