the street being very dirty, she returned to the hotel, intending to renew her search the next day: she had not been come in above half an hour, before the man of the house told her that a servant, in a very rich livery, who, he perceived, had followed her, and had asked many questions concerning her, was now returned, and desired to speak with her.
As du Plessis was ever in her thoughts, a sudden rush of joy overflowed her heart, which seemed to her the presage of seeing him, tho' how he should imagine she was in Paris was a mystery:--but she gave herself not much time for reflection, before she ordered the man to be admitted.
The manner of his approaching her was very respectful; but the message he had to deliver seemed of a contrary nature.--After having asked if her name was Louisa, and she answering that it was, I come, madam, said he, from a gentleman who saw you stand just now at the gate of a house in the Fauxbourg St. Germains, he commands me to tell you, that he has something of moment to acquaint you with, and desires you will permit me to call a chair, and attend you to his house, where he is impatient to receive you.
What, indeed, could Louisa think of a person who should send for her in this manner?--all the late transport she was in, was immediately converted into disdain and vexation at being taken, as she had all the reason in the world to suppose, for one of those common creatures who prostitute their charms for bread.--
Tell your master, said she, that by whatever accident he has learned my name, he is wholly ignorant of the character of the person he has sent you to:--that I am an entire stranger at Paris, and he must have mistaken me for some other, who, perhaps, I may have the misfortune to resemble, and may be also called as I am;--at least I am willing to think so, as the only excuse can be made for his offering this insult:--but go, continued she, with that pride which is natural to affronted virtue;--go, and convince him of his error;--and let me hear no more of it.
It was in vain he assured her that his master was a person of the highest honour, and that he was not unknown to her. All he could say had not the least effect unless to enflame her more; when, after asking his name, the fellow told her he was forbid to reveal it, but that he was confident she would not deny having been acquainted with him when once she saw him.
I shall neither own the one, cried she, nor consent to the other; then bid him a second time be gone, with an air which shewed she was not to be prevailed upon to listen to his arguments.
This man had no sooner left her than she fell into a deep study, from which a sudden thought made her immediately start:--the count de Bellfleur came into her head; and she was certain it could be no other than that cruel persecutor of her virtue, that her ill fate had once more thrown in her way.--As she knew very well, by what he had done, that he was of a disposition to scruple nothing for the attainment of his wishes, she trembled for the consequences of his discovering where she was.--The only way she could think on to avoid the dangers she might be exposed to on his account, was to draw up a petition to the prince of Conti, acquainting him that she was the person who was near suffering so much from the ill designs he had on her at Padua, when so generously referred by monsieur du Plessis, and to entreat his highness's protection against any attempts he might be safe enough to make.
She was just sitting down, in order to form a remonstrance of this kind, when a chariot and six stopping at the door, she was informed the gentleman who had sent to her was come in person, and that they knew it was the same by the livery.--Louisa run hastily to the window and saw a person alight, whom, by the bulk and stature, she knew could not be the count she so much dreaded, this having much the advantage of the other in both. Somewhat reassured by this sight, she ordered the master of the hotel to desire him to walk into a parlour, and let him know she would attend him there.
As she saw not the face of this visitor, she could not be certain whether it were not some of those she had been acquainted with at Venice, who having, by accident, seen her at Paris, might, according to the freedom of the French nation, take the liberty of visiting her;--but whoever it were, or on what score soever brought, she thought it best to receive him in a place where, in case of any ill usage, she might readily have assistance.
The master of the hotel perceiving her scruples, readily did as he was ordered, and Louisa having desired that he, or some of his people, would be within call, went down to receive this unknown gent, tho' not without emotions, which at that moment she knew not how to account for.
But soon after she was seized with infinitely greater, when, entering the parlour, she found it was no other than Dorilaus who had given her this anxiety.--Surprize at the sight of a person whom, of all the world, she could least have expected in that place, made her at first start back; and conscious shame for having, as she thought, so ill rewarded his goodness, mixed with a certain awe which she had for no other person but himself, occasioned such a trembling, as rendered her unable either to retire or move forward to salute him, as she otherwise would have done.
He saw the confusion she was in, and willing to give it an immediate relief, ran to her, and taking her in his arms,--my dear, dear child, said he, am I so happy to see thee once more!--Oh! sir, returned she disengaging herself from his embrace, and falling at his feet!--How can I look upon you after having flown from your protection, and given you such cause to think me the most ungrateful creature in the world!
It was heaven, answered he, that inspired you with that abhorrence of my offers, which, had you accepted, we must both have been eternally undone!--You are my daughter, Louisa! pursued he, my own natural daughter!--Rise then, and take a father's blessing.
All that can be said of astonishment would be far short of what she felt at these words:--the happiness seemed so great she could not think it real, tho' uttered from mouth she knew unaccustomed to deceit:--a hundred times, without giving him leave to satisfy her doubts, did she cry out, My father!--my father!--my real father!--How can it be!--Is there a possibility that Louisa owes her being to Dorilaus!
Yes, my Louisa, answered he, and flatter myself, by what I have observed of your disposition, you have done nothing, since our parting, that might prevent my glorying in being the parent of such a child.
The hurry of spirit she was in, prevented her from taking notice of these last words, or at least from making any answer to them, and she still continued crying out,--Dorilaus, my father!--Good heaven! may I believe I am so blessed?--Who then is my mother!--Wherefore have I been so long ignorant of what I was!--And how is the joyful secret at last revealed!
All these things you shall be fully informed of, answered he; in the mean time be satisfied I do not deceive you, and am indeed your father: transported to find my long lost child, whom I myself knew not was so till I believed her gone for ever;--a thousand times I have wished both you and Horatio were my children, but little suspected you were so, till after his too eager ambition deprived me of him, and my mistaken love drove you to seek a refuge among strangers.
Tears of joy and tenderness now bedewed the faces of both father and daughter:--silence for some moments succeeded the late acclamations; but Dorilaus at length finding her fully convinced she was as happy as he said she was, and entirely freed from all those apprehensions which had occasioned her flying from him, told her he was settled in Paris; that he lived just opposite to the house where she had stood up on account of the shower, and happening to be at one of his windows immediately knew her; that he sent a servant after her, who had enquired how long she had been arrived, and in what manner she came; that he had sent for her with no other intent then to make trial how she would resent it, and was transported to find her answer such as he hoped and had expected from her:--he added, that he had all the anxiety of a father to hear by what means she had been supported, and the motive which induced her to travel in the habit of a pilgrim, as the matter of the hotel had informed his servant; but that he would defer his satisfaction till she should be in a place more becoming his daughter.
On concluding these words he called for the master of the hotel, and having defrayed what little expences she had been at since her coming there, took her by the hand and led her to his chariot, which soon brought them to a magnificent, house, and furnished in a manner answerable to the birth and fortune of the owner.
Louisa had all this time seemed like one in a dream:--she had ever loved Dorilaus with a filial affection; and to find herself really his daughter, to