NADIR.—A TALE OF FORMER TIMES.
(Continued from Page 127.)
On the following day our hero was rejoicing at his metamorphoses, when the consort of a noble Lord sent to propose a mysterious interview, and he appointed the hour of their meeting. Another messenger presents him with a note from a lady of ton, informing him of the time she was to begin her toilet, and he promised to be punctual. Now comes a third deputy, bearer of an epistle: the tenth muse invited him to dinner, after which she proposed to read a poem of her composition, in twelve cantos. Nadir, however, recollecting his former situation, shuddered, and declined the invitation. Once more his door is opened; a letter, with at least fifty erasures, contained an hardly legible summons to tea from the wife of an army contractor, which Nadir engages to obey. It was reported, but we vouch not for the truth of the assertion, that he supped, uninvited, with an opera-dancer.
Such was the rage amongst the fair of the metropolis, that they thought themselves disgraced who could not boast of having made a conquest of him. Two caskets can hardly contain the declarations, bracelets, and other pledges of love that are sent to him, besides those that he procures by stealth. One female alone is doomed to resist him, and what a woman! She, who in him loves but him alone; she, who rejects his declarations to remain faithful to him—Elma.
In consequence of the treacherous schemes of Phanor, in excuse of which he might indeed have urged the bad principles of his education, and the influence of bad example, Elma had repaired to the capital. Notwithstanding Phanor had never seen Elma, the wit and feelings he had observed in her correspondence, the idea of possessing a woman who was indebted for her attractions to nature alone, and I blush as I repeat it, the secret pleasure he expected to derive in seducing her from his friend, had induced him to execute a most abominable project. In the beginning he was satisfied with adding a few tender and witty sentences to what Nadir had been writing. By this means he had made himself known to Elma, and had gained her confidence. But it was necessary for him to inspire Nadir with suspicions, so as to cool his ardour; and Phanor had accordingly intercepted the correspondence between the two lovers. Elma then determined to enquire of Phanor wherefore she was thus neglected; the traitor expected as much; he wrote to her that Nadir had been severely wounded in an affair of honour. “I would have wished,” added he in his letter, “to conceal that accident from you; but he refuses every assistance, will not even allow me to be near him, but is continually calling after, and will see no other than Elma. If love and compassion still prevail in your heart, come to—, and restore to us both our unfortunate friend.”
It was subsequent to his having dispatched that letter that Phanor had parted from Nadir to repair to the place he had appointed; where he had not long to wait. Elma, notwithstanding she had to bewail the recent loss of her mother, could not bear the mere idea of losing Nadir. She hesitated not, but set off immediately, and, without stopping on the road, met her false friend on the second day. The first words she spoke were to enquire after the only man on whose account she considered life as a boon; she wished to be introduced to him, she begs, she entreats, and wonders at the pretences under which her solicitations are not granted. Phanor at last produces, apparently with regret, the paper on which the dying Nadir had written a last adieu, and conjured Elma to give her hand to—. Elma had read enough,—she surmised the treachery, and shed abundance of tears. Beauteous as she was, those tears added to her natural beauty. Phanor could no longer moderate his transports. After having tried means of persuasion, he presumed to have recourse to violence: but nothing is equal to the powers of defence of a true lover. She disengaged herself from the grasp of the ruffian, threw a window open
