rom the Count,
entreating him, in the name of their former friendship, to render him the
greatest possible service. 'You know,' said he, 'my dear Marquis, the
mortification I felt that the name of Moncade was likely to expire with
me. At length, it pleased heaven to hear my prayers, and to grant me a
son: he gave early promise of dispositions worthy of his birth, but he,
some time since, formed an unfortunate and disgraceful attachment to the
most celebrated actress of the company of Toledo. I shut my eyes to this
imprudence on the part of a young man whose conduct had, till then,
caused me unmingled satisfaction. But, having learnt that he was so
blinded by passion as to intend to marry this girl, and that he had even
bound himself by a written promise to that effect, I solicited the King
to have her placed in confinement. My son, having got information of the
steps I had taken, defeated my intentions by escaping with the object of
his passion. For more than six months I have vainly endeavoured to
discover where he has concealed himself, but I have now some reason to
think he is at the Hague. The Count earnestly conjured the Marquis to
make the most rigid search, in order to discover his son's retreat, and
to endeavour to prevail upon him to return to his home. 'It is an act of
justice,' continued he, 'to provide for the girl, if she consents to
give up the written promise of marriage which she has received, and I
leave it to your discretion to do what is right for her, as well as to
determine the sum necessary to bring my son to Madrid in a manner
suitable to his condition. I know not,' concluded he, 'whether you are a
father; if you are, you will be able to sympathise in my anxieties.' The
Count subjoined to this letter an exact description of his son, and the
young woman by whom he was accompanied.

"On the receipt of this letter, the Marquis lost not a moment in sending
to all the inns in Amsterdam, Rotterdam, and the Hague, but in vain--he
could find no trace of them. He began to despair of success, when the
idea struck him that a young French page of his, remarkable for his
quickness and intelligence, might be employed with advantage. He
promised to reward him handsomely if he succeeded in finding the young
woman, who was the cause of so much anxiety, and gave him the description
of her person. The page visited all the public places for many days,
without success; at length, one evening, at the play, h