de Nemours that she loved him, and of knowing that he loved another: all her comfort was to think, that after the knowledge of this she had nothing more to fear from herself, and that she should be entirely eased of the inclination she had for the duke.
She never thought of the orders the queen-dauphin had given her, to come to her when she went to rest: she went to bed herself, and pretended to be ill; so that when monsieur de Cleves came home from the king, they told him she was asleep. But she was far from that tranquillity which inclines to sleep; all the night she did nothing but torment herself, and read over and over the letter in her hand.
Madam de Cleves was not the only person whom this letter disturbed. The viscount de Chartres, who had lost it and not the duke de Nemours, was in the utmost inquietude about it. He had been that evening with the duke of Guise, who had given a great entertainment to the duke of Ferrara his brother-in-law, and to all the young people of the court: it happened that the discourse turned upon ingenious letters; and the viscount de Chartres said he had one about him the finest that ever was writ: they urged him to show it; and on his excusing himself, the duke de Nemours insisted he had no such letter, and that what he said was only out of vanity; the viscount made him answer, that he urged his discretion to the utmost, that nevertheless he would not show the letter; but he would read some parts of it, which would make it appear few men received the like. Having said this, he would have taken out the letter, but could not find it; he searched for it to no purpose. The company rallied him about it; but he seemed so disturbed, that they forbore to speak further of it: he withdrew sooner than the others, and went home with great impatience, to see if he had not left the letter there. While he was looking for it, one of the queen's pages came to tell him, that the viscountess d'Usez had thought it necessary to give him speedy
