mpire, and Monimia expressed a desire of knowing, in
particular, the issue of his contest with Count Trebasi, who, she knew,
had usurped the succession of his father.

Thus solicited, he could not refuse to gratify their curiosity and
concern. He explained his obligations to the benevolent Jew; related the
steps he had taken at Vienna for the recovery of his inheritance;
informed them of his happy rencontre with his father-in-law; of his
sister's deliverance, and marriage; of the danger into which his life had
been precipitated by the news of Monimia's death; and, lastly, of his
adventure with the banditti, in favour of a gentleman, who, he afterwards
understood, had been robbed in the most base and barbarous manner by
Fathom. He likewise, to the astonishment of all present, and of his
mistress in particular, communicated some circumstances, which shall
appear in due season.

Monimia's tender frame being quite fatigued with the scene she had acted,
and her mind overwhelmed with the prosperous tidings she had heard, after
having joined the congratulations of the company, on the good fortune of
her Renaldo, begged leave to retire, that she might by repose recruit her
exhausted spirits; and the night being pretty far spent, she was
conducted by her lover to Madam Clement's coach, that stood in waiting,
in which also the rest of the company made shift to embark, and were
carried to the house of that good lady, where, after they were invited to
dine, and Melvil entreated to bring Don Diego and the Jew along with
them, they took leave of one another, and retired to their respective
lodgings in a transport of joy and satisfaction.

As for Renaldo, his rapture was still mixed with apprehension, that all
he had seen and heard was no more than an unsubstantial vision, raised by
some gay delirium of a disordered imagination. While his breast
underwent those violent, though blissful emotions of joy and admiration,
his friend the Castilian spent the night in ruminating over his own
calamities, and in a serious and severe review of his own conduct. He
compared his own behaviour with that of the young Hungarian, and found
himself so light in the scale, that he smote his breast with violence,
exclaiming in an agony of remorse:

"Count Melvil has reason to grieve; Don Diego to despair. His
misfortunes flow from the villany of mankind; mine are the fruit of my
own madness. He laments the loss of a mistress, who fell a sacrifice