tery," cried Ferdinand, "which I cannot develop. He is neither a madman nor a fool, and yet his rashness would tempt one to believe his senses must have deserted him, or his strong attachment to the sex has thrown him into situations he has not the fortitude, I may say honesty, to decline making an advantage of." "He is a worthless wretch," replied the Count, "and will doubtless meet with a severe retribution; but I am enchanted with the unfortunate lady who bears his name.—Her conduct is so generous, so noble, and so becoming a truly great mind, that I cannot enough admire her. How few women in her situation would have sought out the unhappy Louisa, after having her happiness broken in upon, her own claims let aside, and her child stigmatized, by her connexion with an infamous seducer."
"But what is still more admirable," returned Ferdinand, "is her voluntary secession from the Count, when her rights were indisputable; her marriage witnessed—allowed of; and when, by so doing, she threw
