'How could I know so little of myself, when I sent my Duenna to forbid your coming more under my lattice? or how could I know so little of you, Diego, as to imagine you would not have staid one day in Valadolid to have given ease to my doubts?--Was I to be abandoned, Diego, because I was deceived? or was it kind to take me at my word, whether my suspicions were just or no, and leave me, as you did, a prey to much uncertainty and sorrow?
'In what manner Julia has resented this--my brother, when he puts this letter into your hands, will tell you; He will tell you in how few moments she repented of the rash message she had sent you--in what frantic haste she flew to her lattice, and how many days and nights together she leaned immoveably upon her elbow, looking through it towards the way which Diego was wont to come.
'He will tell you, when she heard of your departure--how her spirits deserted her--how her heart sicken'd--how piteously she mourned--how low she hung her head. O Diego! how many weary steps has my brother's pity led me by the hand languishing to trace out yours; how far has desire carried me beyond strength--and how oft have I fainted by the way, and sunk into his arms, with only power to cry out--O my Diego!
'If the gentleness of your carriage has not belied your heart, you will fly to me, almost as fast as you fled from me--haste as you will--you will arrive but to see me expire.--'Tis a bitter draught, Diego, but oh! 'tis embittered still more by dying un. . .--'
She could proceed no farther.
Slawkenbergius supposes the word intended was unconvinced, but her strength would not enable her to finish her letter.
The heart of the courteous Diego over-flowed as he read the letter--he ordered his mule forthwith and Fernandez's horse to be saddled; and as no vent in prose is equal to that of poetry in such conflicts--chance, which as often directs us to remedies as to diseases, having thrown a piece of charcoal into the window--Diego availed himself of it, and whilst the hostler was getting ready his mule, he eased his mind against the wall as follows.
Ode.
Harsh and untuneful are the notes of love, Unless my Julia strikes the key, Her hand alone can touch the part, Whose dulcet movement charms the heart, And governs all the man with sympathetick sway.
2d.
O Julia!
The lines were very natural--for they were nothing at all to the purpose, says Slawkenbergius, and 'tis a pity there were no more of them; but whether it was that Seig. Diego was slow in composing verses--or the hostler quick in saddling mules--is not averred; certain it was, that Diego's mule and Fernandez's horse were ready at the door of the inn, before Diego was ready for his second stanza; so without staying to finish his ode, they both mounted, sallied forth, passed the Rhine, traversed Alsace, shaped their course towards Lyons, and before the Strasburgers and the abbess of Quedlingberg had set out on their cavalcade, had Fernandez, Diego, and his Julia, crossed the Pyrenean mountains, and got safe to Valadolid.
'Tis needless to inform the geographical reader, that when Diego was in Spain, it was not possible to meet the courteous stranger in the Frankfort road; it is enough to say, that of all restless desires, curiosity being the strongest--the Strasburgers felt the full force of it; and that for three days and nights they were tossed to and fro in the Frankfort road, with the tempestuous fury of this passion, before they could submit to return home.--When alas! an event was prepared for them, of all other, the most grievous that could befal a free people.
As this revolution of the Strasburgers affairs is often spoken of, and little understood, I will, in ten words, says Slawkenbergius, give the world an explanation of it, and with it put an end to my tale.
Every body knows of the grand system of Universal Monarchy, wrote by order of Mons. Colbert, and put in manuscript into the hands of Lewis the fourteenth, in the year 1664.
'Tis as well known, that one branch out of many of that system, was the getting possession of Strasburg, to favour an entrance at all times into Suabia, in order to disturb the quiet of Germany--and that in consequence of this plan, Strasburg unhappily fell at length into their hands.
It is the lot of a few to trace out the true springs of this and such like revolutions--The vulgar look too high for them--Statesmen look too low--Truth (for once) lies in the middle.
What a fatal thing is the popular pride of a free city! cries one historian--The Strasburgers deemed it a diminution of their ******* to receive an imperial garrison--so fell a prey to a French one.
The fate, says another, of the Strasburgers, may be a warning to all free people to save their money.--They anticipated their revenues--brought themselves under taxes, exhausted their strength, and in the end became so weak a people, they had not strength to keep their gates shut, and so the French pushed them open.
Alas! alas! cries Slawkenbergius, 'twas not the French,--'twas Curiosity pushed them open--The French indeed, who are ever upon the catch, when they saw the Strasburgers, men, women and children, all marched out to follow the stranger's nose--each man followed his own, and marched in.
Trade and manufactures have decayed and gradually grown down ever since--but not from any cause which commercial heads have assigned; for it is owing to this only, that Noses have ever so run in their heads, that the Strasburgers could not follow their business.
Alas! alas! cries Slawkenbergius, ****** an exclamation--it is not the first--and I fear will not be the last fortress that has been either won--or lost by Noses.
The End of Slawkenbergius's Tale.
