Supposing that before her death Agnes might possibly have made the proposal, the duke had placed all his nephew’s hints of marriage to Virginia’s account: consequently, he gave them the most favourable reception. On returning to his hotel, the relation given him of Antonia’s death, and Lorenzo’s behaviour on the occasion, made evident his mistake. He lamented the circumstances; but the unhappy girl being effectually out of the way, he trusted that his designs would yet be executed. ’Tis true that Lorenzo’s situation just then ill-suited him for a bridegroom. His hopes disappointed at the moment when he expected to realize them, and the dreadful and sudden death of his mistress had affected him very severely. The duke found him upon the bed of sickness. His attendants expressed serious apprehensions for his life; but the uncle entertained not the same fears. He was of opinion, and not unwisely, that “men have died, and worms have eat them; but not for love!” He therefore flattered himself that however deep might be the impression made upon his nephew’s heart, time and Virginia would be able to efface it. He now hastened to the afflicted youth, and endeavoured to console him: he sympathised in his distress, but encouraged him to resist the encroachments of despair.

He allowed that he could not but feel shocked at an event so terrible, nor could he blame his sensibility; but he besought him not to torment himself with vain regrets, and rather to struggle with affliction, and preserve his life, if not for his own sake, at least for the sake of those who were fondly attached to him. While he laboured thus to make Lorenzo forget Antonia’s loss, the duke paid his court assiduously to Virginia, and seized every opportunity to advance his nephew’s interest in her heart.