vocation.  The arguments they made use of for this purpose were artful enough to have imposed on some minds, but Louisa had too much penetration not to see thro’ them; and being unwilling to disoblige them by shewing that she did so, made use, in her turn, of evasions which the circumstances of the case rendered very excusable.  But fully persuaded in their minds that it was solely her engagements with du Plessis that rendered her so refractory to their desires, they resolved to break it off, if possible, and to that end now intercepted his letters; two of which giving an account that he was very much wounded and unable to travel, they renewed their pressures, in order to prevail on her to take the habit before he should be in a condition to come to Bolognia.

These sollicitations, however, had no other effect than to embitter the satisfaction she would otherwise have enjoyed during her stay among them;—­the time of which began now to seem tedious, and she impatiently longed for the end of the campaign, which she expected would return her dear du Plessis to her, and she should be removed from a place where dissimulation, a vice she detested, was in a manner necessary.  She had received several letters from him before the abbess took it in her head to stop them, each more endearing than the former; and last had flattered her with the hope of seeing him in a very short time.

Days, weeks, and months passed over, after an assurance so pleasing to her wishes, without any confirmation of the repeated vows he had made; and receiving from him no account of the reasons that delayed him, she began to reproach herself for having placed too much confidence in him;—­the more time elapsed, the more cause she had to doubt his sincerity, and believe her misfortune real:—­in fine, it was near half a year that she languished under a vain expectation of seeing, or at least hearing from him.—­Sometimes she imagined a new object had deprived her of his heart; but when she called to mind the many proofs he had given her of the most unparallell’d generosity that ever was she could not think that if he even ceased to love her, he could be capable of leaving her in so cruel a suspence:—­no, said she to herself, he would have let me know I had no more to depend on from him:—­paper cannot blush, and as he is out of the reach of my upbraidings, he would certainly have acquainted me with my fate, confessed the inconstancy of his sex, and exerted that wit, of which he has sufficient, to have excused his change:—­I will not therefore injure a man whom I have found so truly noble:—­death, perhaps, his deprived me of him; the unrelenting sword makes no distinction between the worthy and unworthy;—­and the brave, the virtuous du Plessis, may have fallen a victim in common with the most vulgar.