d yet to relate a long story of her passion, and his
ingratitude, said mademoiselle de Coigney, was I last night dragged into
a dark corner, and deprived for an hour together of all the pleasures of
the masquerade: it seems she had over-heard some gallant things between
him and the daughter of the count de Granpree, and that gave her the
occasion of running into a recapitulation of all the professions of
constancy he had made to herself, the proofs she had given him of a too
easy belief, and the little regard he now paid to her peace of mind.--I
was obliged to affect a pity for her misfortunes, and gratitude for the
trust she reposed in me, tho' neither the one or the other merited in
reality any thing but contempt.

One often suffers a good deal from one's complaisance this way, said
Charlotta; and for my part there is nothing I would more carefully avoid
than secrets of this nature; but you have not told me how far Horatio
was accessary to bringing you into this trouble.

He them said that he would save mademoiselle de Coigney the labour, and
immediately related how the lady they were speaking of threw herself
upon him, and afterwards enjoined him to deliver the message. But, added
he, I think last night was one of the most unfortunate ones I have ever
known, since, with all the care I could take, I was continually
prevented by other people's concerns from prosecuting my own.--I was not
only insulted and reproached for being mistaken for some other person,
for it could happen no other way, but also soon after received a letter
no less mysterious to me than the blow, which doubtless came from the
same quarter: as there is no name subscribed, or if there were, I should
look on myself as under no obligation of secrecy, I will beg leave to
communicate it to you, ladies.

With these words he took the letter out of his pocket and held it open
between them: Charlotta conquered her impatience so far as not to take
it out of his hand; but mademoiselle Coigney snatched it hastily,
imagining she knew the hand; nor was she deceived in her conjecture: she
had no sooner read it slightly over;--see here, mademoiselle Charlotta,
said she, a new proof of madam de Olonne's folly, and my brother's
continued attachment to that vile woman.

Charlotta then looked over the letter with a satisfaction that was
visible in her countenance; and as soon as she had done, then it is
plain, said she, that Horatio was mistaken for monsieur de Coig