Alexis; or, the Cottage in the Woods. Clara. For whom elfe? Is there more than one Alexis in the world? Alexis. You are just like me: I have feen many women, yet never but one Clara. Clara. You joke: I have no charms, no dress !— Alexis. Drefs is the refult of art, charms are the gift of nature; you poffefs thofe, and join to them a foul, a heart!— Clara. If I have a heart, I have only perceived it two days fince; when I faw you, it is quite natural. Alexis. What, did it never beat for your father? Clara. Yes, it did, but that is a quire different fenfation!-Now I will ask him to explain me those two fentiments. I Alexis. Will you ask your father? Clara. Yes, I will. Why fhould 1 conceal from him what I feel? want no other confidant than bim! Now mind, Alexis, when we walk or repofe together in the grove, or fay a hundred times a day, we love one another, I tell him our converfation every night. Alexis. Ah heaven! take care! Clara. What makes you be fo much furprised? my father is very glad to fee me content; if I am pleafed with you, why fhould he be angry? Alexis. Did he never enter into any difcourfe with you about love? Clara. Yes, that he d'd, and very often to! He told me a hundred times that love is a fatal paffion, which confounds reafon and fenfe, and makes people jealous, uneafy, raving!-Oh! you cannot imagine how he forbade me to give way to that cruel fentiment. Alexis. Well Clara, do you think he will approve of ours? Clara. Of ours!-you are mif taken it is not love I feel for you. I feel nothing of what my father hath told me! Oh! I fhould be very forry if ever I did. Alexis. What innocence! O my 515 | Clara, preferve then that pure fentiment, and always be upon your guard of not falling in love, or at leaft if you do, don't difcover it to Candor ! Clara. Nay, Alexis, I fall like you no more,' if you hinder me from placing my confidence in fo respectable a father!-He shall always know not only the most secret thoughts of my leart, but I will even communicate them to his old friend Germain. Alexis. Oh! oh! to all the world, if you pleafe!-Clara, Clara, how unhappy fhould I be, if Clara. Only fee! you take the alarm at every thing!-Well, let us drop that fubject, and take leffon! Alexis. You do not understand me! Did you but know peopleClara. People! my father is not people! Alexis. He certainly is fo kind, fo generous!-But pray do you know his misfortunes? Clara. No, but Germain does. Alexis. Have you known your mother? Clara. Yes; oh how fhe loved me !-how I loved her! Alexis. What is become of her? Clara. I can't tell. I was brought up in a convent till I was eight years old; my mother came often to fee me! During the latter part of my stay, I could hear no more of her, and my father made me come hither, where he fince told me a hundred times, that his fpoute and fon (my brother, whom I never faw) were both near us; that he faw them every day, and I fhould fee and embrace them too when I fhould be a few years older. They must be very unfortunate too, because Candor and Germain never fpeak of them without tears. Alexis. Did you never afk any farther questions? Clara. It is my father's fecret, and I respected it too much, to force 3 U z it from him yet I know that he goes every night into the cave below, and takes Germain with him; there they remain about an hour, and then return to their apartment. They fix every year, a certain day, on which they perform a kind of ceremony, quite ftrange to me, at the bottom of the great poplar, in the garden. I could never follow them, because every night I am locked up, like you. Alexis. This very ceremony frightened me much the other night. -1 can guefs part of his misfortunes.-Alas! his fon, his spouse fell victims to treachery. Clara. Do you believe they are dead? Alexis. Can you doubt it? Clara. Why, I am to fee them one day-what can that be? Alexis. In me he fhall find an avenger! I will efpoufe his caufe, he fhall know his Alexis. Clara. Ah, my fweet friend! loves you! Alexis. He is a wonderful father. Clara. He told me already :-My daughter, if your heart is to feel, if you are to love, place your af fections in Alexis, who, I believe, is worthy of you but let him deferve you first. Be the recompence of the great fervice I expect him to do me. If he loves you, he will accomplish all my wishes. Some part of the Manufcript is want, ing. The voice in the foreft. ALEXIS, happy and cheri ed in the cortage, had forgot his misfortunes. Mutic, agriculture, and fometimes the fport of the chace in the foreft, took up all his time, and left him no leisure to be dilgufted. How fweet and innocent were the pleafures of our four hermits! They had every thing they wanted, de fired no more, and all nature feemheed to refpect their retreat, and to Co-operate in their happiness. The thunder, which ftruck inceffantly the loftieft trees of the foret, had never defcended on their premiffes; the robbers, who were heard all day long, crying and fhouting about its walls, had never formed the defign, perhaps impracticable, to scale them. Germain left the cottage only once a year to go to St. Marcellin, to buy corn, and, doubtless by a visible pro ection of heaven, he had never been attacked, except the last time, when he was relieved by Alexis. Candor had exprefsly enjoined Clara not to tell her young friend where fhe had been, on the day fhe met with him in the valley of Romans, because he himself intended to give one day every detail of it to Alexis, and exact from his hand a most terrible revenge, which he wished to take of his enemies, before he should go down to the grave. Alexis. O heaven! did he fay this? Clara. They are his very words; don't you think it would be horrible to betray his confidence? Alexis. Ah, what a man!-Let us love each other, my dear crearure, let us love, and may a father, by his bleding, rivet bands as facred as thofe in which we might be joined before the altar, did our manfion not deny us that facred ceremony. The whole time allotted for the leffon was almost spent in amourous topics and confidences. But Alexis, In confequence of this intent, he ftudied daily the character and temper of Alexis, and flattered himself to Alexis; or, the Cottage in the Woods. to fee him always fteady and courageous; he thanked heaven, for having fent him in his ills a being, perhaps the only one on earth, capable to execute his projects. It was with complacency he beheld the love fubfifting between the young couple; he protected and even ftrengthened it, in hopes it would one day turn to his advantage. His daughter kept no fecret from him; he calculated the progrefs of this paffion, and waited till it had reached the highest pitch, to difclofe his fecrets to Alexis. In the mean time he commanded Clara, not to fuffer her lover to take the fmalleft liberty with her he followed them wherefoever they went, watched them carefully, and apprehending their innocence might be in danger in the little grove, he always joined them there, brought them back to the cottage, and, not fufficiently confident of his own vigilance, he made choice of Germain to affift him. All these precautions were to no purpofe; Alexis was too delicate, too virtuous to infringe upon the laws of hofpitality, and Clara endowed with too much prudence and respect to disobey her father, and commit a fault, which he would never have been able to own. On the other hand, their paffion was protected, and they had the promise to be united. They were at liberty to love, and declare their mutual paffion before Candor. This freedom banished the very idea of crime; and if love fometimes ventured to put the blind upon their eyes, the light of truth foon fhook it off, with offering to their fight the abyfs in which they would plunge themfelves, and a fenfe of thame and remorfe ever ready to affail them upon leaving the grove. Thus the two children loved one another; but their love was pure, decent, grounded upon virtue, upon felf-esteem, and the voluntary confent of a father.. 517 Sweet fympathy of the foul, unfullied by the mean impulfe of fenfuality, fatisfied with calm fentiment and reflection, a ftranger to fore remorse, to guilty fecrefy, to guilty diffidence, and fanctioned by paternal authority-ah! how few are the hearts destined to feel thy delights! Alexis, who by this time perceived the fcrupulous vigilance of Candor and Germain, deemed it an affront upon his principles. The fole idea of being fufpected of treachery, fapped the happiness he enjoyed. Often when returned from a walk where Candor had interrupted a delicious tête-à-tête, he would go to his room, and, regard. leis of the tokens of love and affec tion which the old man continually lavifhed upon him, fhed a torrent of tears. What fhould, would he exclaim, I be capable of!-and can they think it? I am dogged and watched as if there was any occafion to apprehend that I could fo far forget myself, as to betray the confidence I enjoy, and to feduce an innocent child! It feems they cannot read in my heart! - No, they will never know it; that feeling heart, fraught with gratitude and delicacy, is torn by the most outrageous fufpicion!-Alas, will men never do me justice -O Candor, Candor, how you grieve me! Candor often furprized him in thofe acceffes of a gloomy temper; he enquired for the caufe of his trouble, but Alexis remained filent; the remembrance of his misfortunes was his excufe; and the old man. who knew him to be candid and fincere, believed, comforted and engaged him to a walk in the garden, and, partly by his careffes, partly by dint of argument, diffipated the melancholy of his young friend. * * is * Here a matter of twenty pages wanting in the original manu fcript. fcript. Some leaves half torn prove, however, that this deficiency, in other refpects little interesting, was filled with the pleasures and occupations of our four hermits in the cottage; alfo with an account of the increafing paffion between the young couple. I thought it ufelefs to make fupplement of my own, as thofe paffages which are wanting, leffen by no means the merit of the work. I will, therefore, fimply be. gin where the narrative is continued in a fucceffive and regular order. In this manner, Candor, Clara, Alexis, and Germain paffed their life at the cottage. They always terminated the bufinefs of the day by a rural walk; they all four fat down in the little grove, on the borders of the limpid rivulet, they returned, enjoyed a frugal meal, and tafted the fweets of a quiet fleep, from which nothing could rouze them, but the rifing of Aurora, and the concerts of birds At the expiration of a twelvemonth, our young couple loved no more, but adored each other. It was a violent paffion which nothing could keep within bounds, but the hope of a speedy union. They were determined to fpeak of it to Candor, and to crave, upon their knees, his paternal bleffing, a tie as facred in their eyes, as the auguft cremony of wedlock, which they had no opportunity to obtin; but the old man, equally cunning and vindictive, had waited for that inftant, to lay open his projects to Alexis. He had himself follered in his breaft the flames of love, and fuffered the paffion of Alexis to attain the very pitch of violence, only with a view to be convinced of his fidelity to ferve him. He was, however, unacquainted with the firmnefs and fpirit of our young hero; he intended putting them to trial, in order to be fure of his inviolable attachment, and to defer, a little longer, the ftory of his misfortunes, which he had promised to relate. was Alexis, for his own part, always miftrufting and fufceptible, alarmed at the delays of Candor, He had repeatedly intreated him to unite him with the object of his love, and the old man would always anfwer, My fon, it is not enough for me, that you love my daughter, and have her welfare at heart; but it is alfo neceffary that your friendfhip for her father be equal to your love to her. Clara can therefore, not be yours, unless I have real proofs of your attachment. —Alexis, with tears in his eyes, asked which were thofe proofs that he required of him. Candor made no reply, fqueezed his hand, and left him, with a figh and a woeful counte nance. What a fituation for our hero! It was then that his first misfortunes retraced themselves in his mind, and he fighed. One day, going to fell fome wood at the entrance of the foreft, he was ftruck with aftonifhment, upon perceiving his name engraved on the bark of a lofty tree. He approaches, he difcovers fome other characters, and, trembling, read thefe few lines: Alexis, Ay from Candor, fly from the perfidy of the cottage, where the most enormous crime is expeed of you. Cruel wretch! exclaimed he with indignation, whoever thou be, thou art an impoftor!-Candor is virtuous; Candor is the most refpectable of men; and this is the value I fer upon thy infamous calumny! So faying, he lays hold of his ax, and with feveral blows effaces the odious infeription. Though he gave it not the leaft credit, a fenfation of sadness remained in his foul; he ftrives to diffipate it, but without fuccefs. What hand inimical to my rest, faid he to himself; what traitor could Alexis; or, the Cottage in the Woods. 519 looks, he liftens, and foon a perfon could give me fuch infidious advice! | Unknown as I am to all the world, I am known to live in this foreft.Why fhould I leave it? why destroy my peace by unjuft fufpicion? What do I fay? I have no fufpicion. Avaunt, guilty miftruft! Omy father! houtdit thou defign me to Alexis, quite motionlefs, looks be criminal, thou the most wife, the into the ftream, and his aftonishmoft generous of men! Oh! why ment increafes upon feeing, tied to a is it not in my power to extirpate branch of a bufh, a letter, which with my own hand the bafe accufer the unknown perfon had thrown on who dared to outrage a virtuous his fide, and which past through the man! But who is he? what intereft opening that was made in the wall. can he find to give me fuch danger. He feizes the branch, unties the letous advice? does he know me? is ter, and eagerly reads the following it my father, or Dumont? who-lines, which moved him to the highO Gods! I have not well enough est degree: examined the characters! I might perhaps have difcovered-could it be you, unfortunate beings, whom I cherished so much? could your tenderness reclaim Alexis, and wish him back to your arms? Yes, I know the characters; how unreafonable was I to efface them fo foon! My father! Dumont!-could it be you ? But what appearance is there? where ftrays my reafon? No, I reject this too flattering idea! It is a stranger, I doubt not; I must not doubt, it is even a wretch, a ruffian, who feeks to enfnare me. Ah! I will fhún him, and never leave this dear abode.-I will love and refpect my generous hofts, and deem a crime, the cruel calumny which I discovered upon this tree.Bluth, Alexis, thou art become an acceffary to guilt, in having read it. Alexis returned to the cottage, where Candor, who faw his trouble, chid him for his melancholy: the youth ftammered, and excufed himfelf as well as he could, his foul longed for folitude, and he took a walk by himself in the remoteft part of the garden, on the borders of the rivulet. Quite loft in thought, he approached the wall, which separated the premiffes from the foreft; he thought he heard a fweet voice, uttering his name. He "Heaven, my Alexis, is finally appeafed: your father acknowledges you for his fon. Leave the cottage, and the woods of Chamborau: come to meet him at St. Etienne, where he, with your friend Dumont, is waiting for you. To receive you, his arms are open. When to morrow's fun will hide itfelf in the water, come, alone, to the fpot where the foreft forms a ftar marked with fix martlets. It is there you will find a faithful guide, who is to conduct you to the most unfortunate and most tender of fathers." What a perufal for Alexis!-He queftions the stranger, but is not answered: to all appearance he is gone.-His father waits for him, his father acknowledges him for his fon!-Heaven! in what moment does he hear tidings, which; at other times, he would have confidered as the girateft of bleflings!-But how is he to act now? Shall he renounce love for nature? fhall he betray gratitude for filial tenderness? fhil he fly from the arms of a generous friend to thofe of a father? What an embarraffment! what a cruel embarraffment ! Ciara's lover remains for fome time in thee deepest gloom of reflection, he takes this adventure for an illufion; he cannot believe that what |