A True Love Story - Page 2

intractable. Even his attachment to his kind patroness
relaxed. He attended her reluctantly but at the hours of prayer. Often
did she find him on the steps of the church ere the doors were opened.
The signora Grimaldi was not apt to make observations. She was content
with indulging her own passions, seldom restrained those of others; and
though good offices rarely presented themselves to her imagination, she
was ready to exert them when applied to, and always talked charitably of
the unhappy at her cards, if it was not a very unlucky deal.

Still it is probable that she never would have discovered the passion of
Orondates, had not her woman, who was jealous of his favour, given her a
hint; at the same time remarking, under affectation of good will, how
well the circumstances of the lovers were suited, and that as her
ladyship was in years, and would certainly not think of providing for a
creature she had bought in the public market, it would be charitable to
marry the fond couple, and settle them on her farm in the country.

Fortunately madame Grimaldi always was open to good impressions, and
rarely to bad. Without perceiving the malice of her woman, she was
struck with the idea of a marriage. She loved the cause, and always
promoted it when it was honestly in her power. She seldom made
difficulties, and never apprehended them. Without even examining
Orondates on the state of his inclinations, without recollecting that
madame Capello and she were of different parties, without taking any
precautions to guard against a refusal, she instantly wrote to the
abbess to propose a marriage between Orondates and Azora.

The latter was in madame Capello's chamber when the note arrived. All
the fury that authority loves to console itself with for being under
restraint, all the asperity of a bigot, all the acrimony of party, and
all the fictitious rage that prudery adopts when the sensual enjoyments
of others are concerned, burst out on the helpless Azora, who was unable
to divine how she was concerned in the fatal letter. She was made to
endure all the calumnies that the abbess would have been glad to have
hurled at the head of madame Grimaldi, if her own character and the rank
of that offender would have allowed it. Impotent menaces of revenge were
repeated with emphasis, and as nobody in the convent dared to contradict
her, she gratified her anger and love of prating with endless
tautologies. In fine, Azora was strictly locked up and bread and water
were ordered as sovereign cures for love. Twenty replies to madame
Grimaldi were written and torn, as not sufficiently expressive of a
resentment that was rather vociferous than eloquent, and her confessor
was at last forced to write one, in which he prevailed to have