CHAPTER VI.

Prince Castel Forte quitted Rome, to settle near Corinne. She felt most grateful for this proof of friendship, and yet ashamed that she could not requite it, even by such conversation as of yore: now she was silent and abstracted; her failing health robbed her of all the strength required, even for a momentary triumph over her absorbing griefs. That interest, which the heart's courtesy inspires, she could still at times evince; but her desire to please was lost forever. Unhappy love freezes all our affections: our own souls grow inexplicable to us. More than we gained while we were happy, we lose by the reverse. That added life which made us enjoy nature, lent an enchantment to our intercourse with society; but the heart's vast hope once lost, existence is impoverished, and all spontaneous impulses are paralyzed. Therefore, a thousand duties command women, and men still more, to respect and fear the passion they awaken, since it may devastate the mind as well as the heart.

Sometimes Castel Forte might speak for several minutes to Corinne without a reply, because she neither understood nor even heard him. When she did, her answers had none of that glowing animation once so remarkable; they merely dragged on the dialogue for a few seconds, and then she relapsed into silence. Sometimes, as she had done at Naples, she would smile in pity over her own failures. The amiable prince humored her on all her favorite topics. She would thank him, by pressing his hand, and once, after a walk on the banks of the Arno, began to jest with her accustomed grace: he gazed, and listened in glad surprise; but she abruptly broke off, and rushed from the room in tears. On returning, she said, gently: "Pardon me, my generous friend; I would fain make myself agreeable; it will not be: bear with me as I am." What most distressed him, was the shock her constitution had received: no immediate danger threatened her, yet it was impossible that she could live long, unless she regained some vigor. If she endeavored to speak on aught that concerned the soul, her wan tremor was painful to behold; and he strove to divert her from this strain. He ventured to talk of Oswald, and found that she took a perverse pleasure in the subject; but it left her so shaken, that he was obliged to interdict it. Castel Forte was a susceptible being: but not even the most magnanimous of men knows how to console the woman he has loved under the pangs thus inflicted by another. Some little self-love on his side, must aid her timidity, in preventing perfect confidence. Besides, what would it avail? It can only be of service to those wounds which would cure themselves without it.

At this time the prince received a letter from Lord Nevil, replete with professions, which would have deeply affected Corinne: he mused for hours together on the propriety of showing it to her; but anticipating the violence of its effects on a creature so feeble, he forbore. Even while he was thus deliberating, another letter reached him, announcing his Lordship's departure for America. Castel Forte then decided on saying nothing to Corinne. Perhaps he erred: one of her greatest griefs was Nevil's silence; she scarce dared own it to herself: but though forever separated from him, one recollection, one regret, would have been very precious to her: as it was, he gave her, she thought, no opportunity of hearing his name, left her no excuse for breathing it. The sorrow, of which no one speaks to us, which gains no change from time, cuts deeper than reiterated blows; the good prince followed the usual maxim, which bids us do our utmost towards teaching a mourner to forget; but there is no oblivion for the imaginative: it were better to keep alive their memories, weary them of their tears, exhaust their sighs, and force them back upon themselves, that they may reconcentrate their own powers.