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But farewell； Hero！ farewell； King！
Your deeds my lips no more shall sing；
For Love alone shall be the subject of my Lyre。
The Marquis returned the paper with a smile of encouragement。
'Your little poem pleases me much；' said He； 'However； you must
not count my opinion for anything。 I am no judge of verses； and
for my own part； never composed more than six lines in my life：
Those six produced so unlucky an effect that I am fully resolved
never to compose another。 But I wander from my subject。 I was
going to say that you cannot employ your time worse than in
making verses。 An Author； whether good or bad； or between both；
is an Animal whom everybody is privileged to attack； For though
All are not able to write books； all conceive themselves able to
judge them。 A bad composition carries with it its own
punishment； contempt and ridicule。 A good one excites envy； and
entails upon its Author a thousand mortifications。 He finds
himself assailed by partial and ill…humoured Criticism： One Man
finds fault with the plan； Another with the style； a Third with
the precept； which it strives to inculcate； and they who cannot
succeed in finding fault with the Book； employ themselves in
stigmatizing its Author。 They maliciously rake out from
obscurity every little circumstance which may throw ridicule
upon his private character or conduct； and aim at wounding the
Man； since They cannot hurt the Writer。 In short； to enter the
lists of literature is wilfully to expose yourself to the arrows
of neglect； ridicule； envy； and disappointment。 Whether you
write well or ill； be assured that you will not escape from
blame； Indeed this circumstance contains a young Author's chief
consolation： He remembers that Lope de Vega and Calderona had
unjust and envious Critics； and He modestly conceives himself to
be exactly in their predicament。 But I am conscious that all
these sage observations are thrown away upon you。 Authorship is
a mania to conquer which no reasons are sufficiently strong； and
you might as easily persuade me not to love； as I persuade you
not to write。 However； if you cannot help being occasionally
seized with a poetical paroxysm； take at least the precaution of
communicating your verses to none but those whose partiality for
you secures their approbation。'
'Then； my Lord； you do not think these lines tolerable？' said
Theodore with an humble and dejected air。
'You mistake my meaning。 As I said before； they have pleased me
much； But my regard for you makes me partial； and Others might
judge them less favourably。 I must still remark that even my
prejudice in your favour does not blind me so much as to prevent
my observing several faults。 For instance； you make a terrible
confusion of metaphors； You are too apt to make the strength of
your lines consist more in the words than sense； Some of the
verses only seem introduced in order to rhyme with others； and
most of the best ideas are borrowed from other Poets； though
possibly you are unconscious of the theft yourself。 These faults
may occasionally be excused in a work of length； But a short Poem
must be correct and perfect。'
'All this is true； Segnor； But you should consider that I only
write for pleasure。'
'Your defects are the less excusable。 Their incorrectness may be
forgiven in those who work for money； who are obliged to compleat
a given task in a given time； and are paid according to the bulk；
not value of their productions。 But in those whom no necessity
forces to turn Author； who merely write for fame； and have full
leisure to polish their compositions； faults are impardonable；
and merit the sharpest arrows of criticism。'
The Marquis rose from the Sopha； the Page looked discouraged and
melancholy； and this did not escape his Master's observation。
'However' added He smiling； 'I think that these lines do you no
discredit。 Your versification is tolerably easy； and your ear
seems to be just。 The perusal of your little poem upon the whole
gave me much pleasure； and if it is not asking too great a
favour； I shall be highly obliged to you for a Copy。'
The Youth's countenance immediately cleared up。 He perceived not
the smile； half approving； half ironical； which accompanied the
request； and He promised the Copy with great readiness。 The
Marquis withdrew to his chamber； much amused by the
instantaneous effect produced upon Theodore's vanity by the
conclusion of his Criticism。 He threw himself upon his Couch；
Sleep soon stole over him； and his dreams presented him with the
most flattering pictures of happiness with Agnes。
On reaching the Hotel de Medina； Lorenzo's first care was to
enquire for Letters。 He found several waiting for him； but that
which He sought was not amongst them。 Leonella had found it
impossible to write that evening。 However； her impatience to
secure Don Christoval's heart； on which She flattered herself
with having made no slight impression； permitted her not to pass
another day without informing him where She was to be found。 On
her return from the Capuchin Church； She had related to her
Sister with exultation how attentive an handsome Cavalier had
been to her； as also how his Companion had undertaken to plead
Antonia's cause with the Marquis de las Cisternas。 Elvira
received this intelligence with sensations very different from
those with which it was communicated。 She blamed her Sister's
imprudence in confiding her history to an absolute Stranger； and
expressed her fears lest this inconsiderate step should
prejudice the Marquis against her。 The greatest of her
apprehensions She concealed in her own breast。 She had observed
with inquietude that at the mention of Lorenzo； a deep blush
spread itself over her Daughter's cheek。 The timid Antonia dared
not to pronounce his name： Without knowing wherefore； She felt
embarrassed when He was made the subject of discourse； and
endeavoured to change the conversation to Ambrosio。 Elvira
perceived the emotions of this young bosom： In consequence； She
insisted upon Leonella's breaking her promise to the Cavaliers。
A sigh； which on hearing this order escaped from Antonia；
confirmed the wary Mother in her resolution。
Through this resolution Leonella was determined to break： She
conceived it to be inspired by envy； and that her Sister dreaded
her being elevated above her。 Without imparting her design to
anyone； She took an opportunity of dispatching the following
note to Lorenzo； It was delivered to him as soon as He woke。
'Doubtless； Segnor Don Lorenzo； you have frequently accused me of
ingratitude and forgetfulness： But on the word of a Virgin； it
was out of my power to perform my promise yesterday。 I know not
in what words to inform you how strange a reception my Sister
gave your kind wish to visit her。 She is an odd Woman； with many
good points about her； But her jealousy of me frequently makes
her conceive notions quite unaccountable。 On hearing that your
Friend had paid some little attention to me； She immediately took
the alarm： She blamed my conduct； and has absolutely forbidden
me to let you know our abode。 My strong sense of gratitude for
your kind offers of service； and 。 。 。 Shall I confess it？ my
desire to behold once more the too amiable Don Christoval； will
not permit my obeying her injunctions。 I have therefore stolen a
moment to inform you； that we lodge in the Strada di San Iago；
four doors from the Palace d'Albornos； and nearly opposite to the
Barber's Miguel Coello。 Enquire for Donna Elvira Dalfa； since in
compliance with her Father…in…law's order； my Sister continues to
be called by her maiden name。 At eight this evening you will be
sure of finding us： But let not a word drop which may raise a
suspicion of my having written this letter。 Should you see the
Conde d'Ossorio； tell him 。 。 。 I blush while I declare it 。 。 。
Tell him that his presence will be but too acceptable to the
sympathetic Leonella。
The latter sentences were written in red ink； to express the
blushes of her cheek； while She committed an outrage upon her
virgin modesty。
Lorenzo had no sooner perused th