Chapter 13

A fortnight passed away, during which Lord Nelville dedicated himself entirely to the society of Corinne. He quitted his lodgings but to go and visit her--he saw nothing--he sought nothing but her; and, without ever mentioning his passion, he made her sensible of it at every moment of the day. She was accustomed to the lively and flattering homage of the Italians; but Oswald's dignity of manners, his apparent coldness, and the sensibility which he betrayed in spite of himself, produced a more powerful effect upon her imagination.--Never did he relate a generous action, never did he speak of a misfortune, without his eyes being filled with tears; but he always endeavoured to conceal his emotion. He inspired Corinne with a sentiment of respect such as she had not felt for a long time before. No wit, however sparkling, could dazzle her; but she was deeply interested by elevation and dignity of character. Lord Nelville joined to these qualities, a nobleness in his expressions, an elegance in the least actions of his life, which formed a striking contrast to the negligence and familiarity of the greater part of the Roman nobility.

Though the tastes of Oswald were in some respects different from those of Corinne, they mutually understood each other in a most wonderful manner. Nelville conjectured the impressions of Corinne with perfect sagacity, and Corinne discovered, in the slightest alteration of Nelville's countenance, what passed in his mind. Accustomed to the stormy demonstrations of passion that characterise the Italians, this timid but proud attachment, this passion, incessantly proved, but never avowed, spread a new charm over her existence: she felt as if encircled with a calmer and purer atmosphere, and every instant of the day inspired her with a sentiment of happiness which she loved to enjoy without accounting for it.

One morning Prince Castel-Forte visited her--he appeared sorrowful--she asked him the cause of his sorrow. "This Scotsman," said he to her, "is about to deprive us of your affections; and who knows even, whether he will not rob us of you entirely?" Corinne was silent for some moments, and then answered, "I assure you he has not even once told me that he loved me." "You are, notwithstanding, convinced of it," answered Prince Castel-Forte; "his conduct is sufficiently eloquent, and even his silence is a powerful means of interesting you.--What can language express that you have not heard? What kind of praise is there that has not been offered you? What species of homage is there that you are not accustomed to receive? But there is something concealed in the character of Lord Nelville which will never allow you to know him entirely as you know us. There is no person in the world whose character is more easy than yours to become acquainted with; but it is precisely because you shew yourself without disguise that mystery and reserve have a pleasing ascendancy over you. That which is unknown, be it what it may, influences you more strongly than all the sentiments which are manifested to you." Corinne smiled; "You believe then, my dear Prince," said she, "that my heart is ungrateful, and my imagination capricious. Methinks however that Lord Nelville possesses and displays qualities sufficiently remarkable to render it impossible that I can flatter myself with having discovered them." "He is, I agree," answered Prince Castel-Forte, "proud, generous and intelligent; with much sensibility too, and particularly melancholy; but I am very much deceived, or there is not the least sympathy of taste between you. You do not perceive it while he is under the charm of your presence, but your empire over him would not hold if he were absent from you. Obstacles would fatigue him; his soul has contracted by the grief which he has experienced, a kind of discouragement, which must destroy the energy of his resolutions; and you know, besides, how much the English in general are enslaved to the manners and habits of their country."

At these words Corinne was silent and sighed. Painful reflections on the first events of her life were retraced in her mind; but in the evening she saw Oswald again, more her slave than ever; and all that remained in her mind of the conversation of Prince Castel-Forte was the desire of fixing Lord Nelville in Italy by making him enamoured of the beauties of every kind with which that country abounds. It was with this intention that she wrote to him the following letter. The freedom of the life which is led in Rome excused this proceeding, and Corinne in particular, though she might be reproached with too much openness and enthusiasm, knew how to preserve dignity with independence, and modesty with vivacity.

_Corinne to Lord Nelville_. _Dec. 15th, 1794._

"I do not know, my lord, whether you will think me too confident in myself, or whether you will do justice to the motives which may excuse that confidence. Yesterday I heard you say that you had not yet seen Rome, that you were neither acquainted with the masterpieces of our fine arts, nor those ancient ruins which teach us history by imagination and sentiment, and I have conceived the idea of presuming to offer myself as your guide in this journey through a course of centuries.

"Without doubt, Rome could easily present a great number of scholars whose profound erudition might be much more useful to you, but if I can succeed in inspiring you with a love for this retreat, towards which I have always felt myself so imperiously attracted, your own studies will finish the rude draft which I shall have begun.

"Many foreigners come to Rome as they would go to London or to Paris, to seek the dissipation of a great city; and if they dared confess they were bored at Rome, I believe the greater part would confess it; but it is equally true that here may be found a charm that never tires. Will you pardon me, my lord, a wish that this charm were known to you.

"It is true that here you must forget all the political interests in the world, but when these interests are not united to sacred sentiments and duties they chill the heart. Here too you must renounce what would be called the pleasures of society, but these pleasures almost invariably wither up the imagination. In Rome you may enjoy an existence at once solitary and animated, which freely develops all that Heaven has implanted in us. I repeat it, my lord; pardon this love of my country, which begets a desire to make it beloved by such a man as you; and do not judge, with the severity of an Englishman, those testimonies of good-will which an Italian hopes she may give you without sinking either in her own estimation or in yours.

CORRINE."

In vain would Oswald have endeavoured to conceal the exquisite pleasure he received from this letter; he caught a glimpse of a confused future of enjoyment and happiness: imagination, love, enthusiasm, all that is divine in the soul of man, appeared to him united with the project of seeing Rome with Corinne. For, this time he did not reflect; this time he set out the very instant to visit Corinne, and by the way he contemplated the sky, he enjoyed the charm of the weather, life sat lightly on him. His griefs and his fears were lost in the clouds of hope; his heart, so long oppressed by sadness, palpitated and leaped with joy; he feared, it is true, that so happy a disposition of mind might not last; but the very idea that it was fleeting gave to this fever of enjoyment more force and activity.

"What, are you come already?" said Corinne, seeing Lord Nelville enter; "Ah, thanks!" and she stretched forth her hand. Oswald seized it, and imprinted his lips on it with the warmest tenderness; nor did he suffer now that timidity which often mingled itself with his most agreeable impressions, and caused him sometimes to endure, in the company of those he loved best, the most bitter and painful feelings. The intimacy had commenced between Oswald and Corinne since they had parted; it was the letter of Corinne which had established it: they were satisfied with each other, and mutually felt the most tender gratitude.

"This morning then," said Corinne, "I will shew you the Pantheon and St Peter's: I had, indeed, some hope," added she smiling, "that you would accept my offer to make the tour of Rome with you, so my horses are ready. I have expected you; you have arrived; 'tis very well, let us set out." "Astonishing woman!" said Oswald; "Who then, art thou? Whence hast thou derived so many opposite charms, which it would seem ought to exclude each other;--sensibility, gaiety, profound reflection, external grace, freedom, and modesty? Art thou an illusion? art thou some supernatural blessing, destined to make happy the life of him who is fortunate enough to meet with thee?" "Ah!" replied Corinne, "if I have it in my power to do you any service you must not think I will ever give up the merit of it." "Take care," said Oswald, seizing Corinne's hand with emotion; "take care what service it is you are about to render me. For these two years the iron hand of affliction has closed up my heart; if your sweet presence has afforded me relief; if, while with you, I breathe again, what will become of me when once more abandoned to my destiny?--What will become of me?" "Let us leave to time and to chance," interrupted Corinne, "to decide whether this impression of a day, which I have produced upon you, will be longer than a day in its duration. If there be a mutual sympathy between our souls, our mutual affection will not be transient. Be that as it may, let us go and admire together all that can elevate our mind and our sentiments; we shall thus taste some moments of happiness."

In finishing these words Corinne went down stairs, and Nelville followed her, astonished at her answer. It seemed to him that she admitted the possibility of a half sentiment,--a momentary attraction. In short, he thought he perceived something like levity in the manner in which she had expressed herself, and he was hurt at it.

He placed himself, without saying a word, in Corinne's carriage; who, guessing his thoughts, said to him, "I do not believe that the heart of man is so formed that he must always feel either no love at all or the most invincible passion. There are beginnings of sentiment which a more profound examination may dissipate. We flatter and then undeceive ourselves, and even the enthusiasm of which we are susceptible, if it renders the enchantment more rapid, may also cause coldness to succeed the more quickly." "You have, then, reflected deeply on the tender passion," said Oswald with bitterness. Corinne blushed at this word, and was silent for some moments; then resuming the conversation, with a striking mixture of frankness and dignity, "I do not believe," said she, "that a woman of sensibility has ever arrived at the age of twenty-six years, without having known the illusion of love; but if never having been happy, if never having met the object who could merit all the affections of my heart, be any claim to interest in the bosom of man, I have a claim to yours." These words, and the accent with which Corinne pronounced them, dissipated a little, the cloud which had spread over the soul of Lord Nelville; nevertheless he said to himself: "She is the most fascinating of women, but an Italian; and hers is not that timid, innocent heart, to herself unknown, which the young English lady that my father destined for me must possess."

The name of this young English lady was Lucilia Edgermond, daughter to the best friend of Lord Nelville's father; but she was too young when Oswald quitted England for him to marry her, or even foresee, with certainty, what she would one day become.