CORINNE

[Illustration]

Chapter i.

The Count d'Erfeuil was present at the ceremony of the Capitol: He came

the next day to Lord Nelville, and said to him, "My dear Oswald, shall I

take you this evening to see Corinne?" "How!" interrupted Oswald; "are

you acquainted with her, then?" "No," replied the Count d'Erfeuil; "but

so celebrated a lady is always flattered when people express a desire to

see her; and I have written to her this morning to request permission to

visit her in the evening accompanied by you." "I could have wished,"

replied Oswald blushing, "that you had not named me in this manner

without my consent." "Do not be angry with me," replied the Count

d'Erfeuil, "for having spared you some tiresome formalities: Instead of

going to an ambassador, who would have taken you to a cardinal, who

would have conducted you to a lady, who would have introduced you to

Corinne, I present you--you present me, and we shall both of us be very

well received I have no doubt."

"I am less confident on that subject than you," replied Lord Nelville,

"and certainly not without reason. I am afraid that this forward request

may have displeased Corinne." "Not at all, I assure you," said the Count

d'Erfeuil; "she has too much good sense for that; and her answer is

extremely polite." "How! she has answered you," replied Lord Nelville;

"and what has she said to you, my dear Count?" "Ah, my dear Count?"

said M. d'Erfeuil, laughing, "you change your note then, since you know

that Corinne has answered me; however, _I love you, and all is

pardoned_. I will confess to you then, modestly, that in my note I had

spoken of myself more than of you, and that, in her answer she seems to

have named you first, but I am never jealous of my friends." "Indeed,"

replied Lord Nelville, "I do not think that either you or I have any

reason to flatter ourselves with being agreeable to Corinne; and as to

me, all that I desire is sometimes to enjoy the society of so

extraordinary a lady: so adieu till this evening, since you have

arranged it so." "You will accompany me then?" said the Count d'Erfeuil.

"Well, yes, I will," answered Lord Nelville with visible embarrassment.

"Why then," continued the Count, "find fault with what I have done? You

finish as I have begun, but however, I must allow you the honour of

being more reserved than I, provided you lose nothing by it. Corinne is

certainly a charming lady, she is graceful and witty; I could not

comprehend what she said very well, because she spoke Italian; but I

would venture to lay a wager, from only seeing her, that she knows

French very well: however, we shall judge of that in the evening. She

leads a very singular life; she is rich, young, and independent; yet no

one can tell, to a certainty, whether she has lovers or not. It appears

certain, notwithstanding, that, at present she gives a preference to no

one; indeed," added he, "it may be the case that she has not been able

to find in this country a man worthy of her: that would not astonish me

at all."

The Count held this kind of discourse some time longer without being

interrupted by Lord Nelville. He said nothing that was discourteous; but

he always wounded the delicate feelings of Oswald by speaking with too

much boldness or too much levity upon what interested him. There is a

certain tact that even wit and knowledge of the world will not teach; so

that, without being wanting in the most perfect politeness, we may often

wound the heart.

Lord Nelville was very much agitated the whole day in thinking of the

visit he was to make in the evening; but he drove away from him as much

as he could the reflections which disturbed him, and endeavoured to

persuade himself that he might find pleasure in a sentiment, without

permitting it to decide the fate of his life. False security! for the

soul receives no pleasure from anything which it deems transient.

Oswald and the Count arrived at Corinne's house, which was situated in

the _Quartiere di Trastevere_, a little beyond the castle of St Angelo.

The view of the Tiber gave an additional embellishment to this house,

which was ornamented, internally, with the most perfect elegance. The

saloon was decorated with copies, in plaster, of the best statues in

Italy--Niobe, Laocoon, Venus de Medicis, and the Dying Gladiator. In the

apartment where Corinne received company were instruments of music,

books, and furniture not more remarkable for its simplicity than for its

convenience, being merely arranged so as to render the conversation

easy, and to draw the circle more closely together. Corinne had not yet

made her appearance when Oswald arrived; while waiting for her he walked

about the apartment with much eager curiosity, remarking in every

particular a happy medley of all that is most agreeable in the English,

French and Italian nations; the love of literature, the taste for

society, and a passion for the fine arts.

Corinne at length appeared; her costume was still picturesque without

being over-studied. Her hair was ornamented with antique cameos and she

wore a necklace of coral: her politeness was noble and easy: in

beholding her in the familiar circle of her friends, you might discover

in her the goddess of the Capitol, notwithstanding she was perfectly

simple and natural in everything. She first saluted the Count d'Erfeuil,

her eyes fixed upon Oswald; and then, as if she repented this piece of

falsehood, she advanced towards the latter--and it might be remarked

that in addressing him by the title of Lord Nelville, that name seemed

to produce a singular effect upon her, and twice she repeated it with a

faltering voice, as if it recalled some affecting remembrances.

At length, in the most graceful manner, she thanked Lord Nelville, in

Italian, for his obliging behaviour on the preceding day in picking up

her crown. Oswald answered by expressing the admiration with which she

inspired him, and gently complained of her not speaking to him upon this

occasion in English: "Am I more an alien to you to-day," added he, "than

I was yesterday?" "No certainly," replied Corinne; "but when people

have, like me, for several years, been in the habit of speaking two or

three different languages, they are apt to employ that which will best

convey the sentiments they wish to express." "Surely," said Oswald,

"English is your natural language, that which you speak to your friends,

that--" "I am an Italian," interrupted Corinne--"pardon me, my lord, but

I think I discover in you that national pride which often characterises

your countrymen. In this country we are more modest; we are neither

pleased with ourselves like the French, nor proud of ourselves like the

English: we only ask a little indulgence of foreigners, and as we have

long ceased to be considered a nation, we are guilty of sometimes being

wanting, as individuals, in that dignity which is not allowed us as a

people. But when you are acquainted with the Italians, you will see

that they possess in their character, some traces of ancient greatness,

some rare traces which, though now effaced, may appear again in happier

times. I will speak English to you sometimes, but not always: Italian is

dear to me; for I have endured much," added she, "to reside in Italy."

The Count d'Erfeuil politely reproached Corinne with having entirely

forgotten him, by expressing herself in languages he did not understand.

"Lovely Corinne," said he to her, "pray talk French; indeed you are

worthy of such an accomplishment." Corinne smiled at this compliment,

and began to speak French, with great purity and much facility, but with

an English accent. Lord Nelville and the Count d'Erfeuil were equally

astonished, but the Count, who believed he might say anything, provided

it was done with grace, and who imagined that impoliteness consisted in

the form, and not the substance, asked directly of Corinne, the reason

of this singularity. She was at first a little discomposed at this

sudden interrogation; but recovering her presence of mind, she said to

the Count--"Apparently, Sir, I have learnt French of an Englishman?" He

renewed his questions smilingly, but with much earnestness. Corinne more

and more embarrassed, said to him at last, "For these four years past,

Sir, since I have settled at Rome, none of my friends, none of those

who, I am sure, are most interested on my account have questioned me

concerning my destiny; they easily perceived that it was painful to me

to speak on the subject."

Those words put an end to the questions of the Count; but Corinne was

afraid she had offended him, and as he appeared to be very intimately

connected with Lord Nelville, she feared still more, without asking

herself the reason of such fear, that he might speak disadvantageously

of her to his friend; and therefore she set about taking much pains to

please him.

The Prince Castel-Forte arrived at this moment, with several Romans,

friends of his and of Corinne. They were men of an amiable mind and

lively disposition, very prepossessing in their appearance, and so

easily animated by the conversation of others that it was a great

pleasure to converse with them, so exquisitely did they appear to feel

every thing that was worthy of being felt. The indolence of the Italians

prevents them from displaying in company, or often in any way whatever,

all the wit they possess. The greater part of them do not even cultivate

in retirement, the intellectual faculties that nature has given them;

but they enjoy with transport, that which comes to them without trouble.

Corinne possessed a very gay turn of wit; she perceived the ridiculous

with the keen sense of a French woman, and coloured it with the

imagination of an Italian; but in every instance it was mingled with

goodness of heart; nothing was ever seen in her, either premeditated or

hostile; for, in every thing, it is coldness that offends--and

imagination on the contrary, is always accompanied with good-nature.

Oswald discovered a grace in Corinne which was entirely new to him. One

great and terrible circumstance of his life was connected with the

remembrance of a very amiable and intelligent French woman; but Corinne

resembled her in nothing--her conversation was a mixture of every kind

of intellectual endowment, enthusiasm for the fine arts, and knowledge

of the world; refinement of ideas, and depth of sentiment; in short, all

the charms of a vivacious and rapid mind were observable in her, without

her thoughts ever being on that account incomplete, or her reflections

superficial. Oswald was at once surprised and charmed, uneasy and

transported; he was unable to comprehend how one person alone could

combine all the qualifications of Corinne. He asked himself whether the

union of all these qualities was the effect of an inconsistent or a

superior character; whether it was by the force of universal feeling, or

because she forgot every thing successively, that she passed thus,

almost in the same instant, from melancholy to gaiety, from profundity

to grace--from conversation the most astonishing, by the knowledge and

the ideas it displayed, to the coquetry of a woman who seeks to please,

and desires to captivate; but there was, even in that coquetry, such

perfect nobleness that it imposed as much respect as the most severe

reserve.

The Prince Castel-Forte was very much taken up with Corinne, and the

sentiments of all his party were manifested towards her by attention and

the most delicate and assiduous respect; and the habitual worship with

which they surrounded her, made every day of her life a sort of

festival. Corinne felt herself happy in being thus beloved; but it was

that sort of happiness which we feel in living in a mild climate,

hearing nothing but harmonious sounds, and receiving, in short, nothing

but agreeable impressions. The serious and profound passion of love was

not painted on her countenance, where every emotion of her soul was

expressed by a most bright and mobile physiognomy. Oswald beheld her in

silence; his presence animated Corinne, and inspired her with the desire

of pleasing. However, she sometimes checked herself in those moments

when her conversation was the most brilliant, astonished at the calm

exterior of Oswald, not knowing whether he approved her or blamed her

secretly, or whether his English ideas would permit him to applaud this

display of talents in a woman.

Oswald was too much captivated by the charms of Corinne, to call to

mind his old opinions upon that obscurity which became women; but he was

inquiring of himself, whether it were possible to be beloved by her;

whether any man could expect to concentrate in himself so many rays of

light. In fact, he was at the same time dazzled and disturbed; and

although, at his departure, she invited him, very politely, to come and

see her again, he suffered a whole day to pass without availing himself

of the invitation, experiencing a sort of terror from the sentiment by

which he felt himself impelled.

Sometimes he compared this sentiment with the fatal error of the first

moments of his youth, but immediately banished such a comparison from

his mind--for then it was a perfidious art that had overcome him; but

who could doubt the truth of Corinne? Was that peculiar charm she

possessed the effect of magic, or of poetical inspiration? Was she an

Armida, or a Sappho? Was there any hope of captivating so lofty and

brilliant a genius! It was impossible to decide; but at least it was

easily seen, that not society, but heaven itself, could have formed this

extraordinary being, and that her mind could no more be imitated, than

her character feigned. "Oh, my father!" said Oswald, "if you had known

Corinne what would you have thought of her?"

Chapter ii.

The Count d'Erfeuil came in the morning, according to custom, to see

Lord Nelville, and reproaching him for not having been to see Corinne

the day before, said, "Had you come, you would have been very happy."

"Why so?" replied Oswald. "Because yesterday I discovered, to a

certainty, that you have greatly interested her." "Still this levity,"

interrupted Lord Nelville; "know that I neither can nor will endure it."

"Do you call levity," said the Count, "the promptitude of my

observation? Am I less in the right, because more quickly so? You were

made to live in the happy time of the Patriarchs, when the age of man

was five centuries; but mind, I give you notice that four of them at

least are lopped off in our days." "Be it so," answered Oswald, "and

what discovery have you made by these rapid observations?"--"That

Corinne loves you. Yesterday, when I arrived at her house, she received

me very kindly, to be sure; but her eyes were fixed on the door, to see

whether you followed me. She tried for a moment to talk of something

else; but as she is a lady of a very ingenuous and natural disposition,

she asked me, quite frankly, why you had not come with me? I blamed you

very much; I said that you were a very odd, gloomy sort of creature; but

you will excuse my relating all that I said over and above in your

praise."

"'He is very sad,' said Corinne; 'he must certainly have lost some one

very dear to him. Whom is he in mourning for?' 'His father, Madam,' said

I; 'though it is more than a year since he lost him; and as the law of

nature obliges us all to survive our parents, I imagine there is some

other secret cause for so long and deep a melancholy.' 'Oh!' replied

Corinne, 'I am very far from thinking that griefs, similar in

appearance, are felt alike by all men. I am very much tempted to believe

that the father of your friend, and your friend himself, are exceptions

from the general rule.' Her voice was very tender, my dear Oswald, when

she said these words." "Are these," replied Oswald, "your proofs of that

interest you spoke of?" "In truth," replied the Count d'Erfeuil, "these

are quite enough, according to my way of thinking, to convince a man

that he is beloved by a lady; but since you wish for better, you shall

have them; I have reserved the strongest for the last. Prince

Castel-Forte arrived, and related your adventure at Ancona, without

knowing that he was speaking of you: he related it with much fire and

imagination, as well as I could judge from the two lessons of Italian I

have taken; but there are so many French words in the foreign languages,

that we comprehend them, almost all, without even knowing them. Besides,

the countenance of Corinne would have explained to me what I did not

understand. One might read in it so visibly the agitation of her heart!

She did not breathe, for fear of losing a single word; and when she

asked if he knew the name of this generous and intrepid Englishman, such

was her anxiety, that it was easy to judge how much she dreaded to hear

pronounced any other name than yours.

"Prince Castel-Forte said he did not know the gentleman's name; and

Corinne, turning quickly towards me, cried, 'Is it not true, Sir, that

it was Lord Nelville?' 'Yes, Madam,' answered I, 'it was he, himself;'

and Corinne then melted in tears. She had not wept during the story;

what was there then more affecting in the name of the hero than in the

recital itself?" "She wept!" cried Nelville, "Ah!--why was I not there?"

Then, checking himself all of a sudden, he cast down his eyes, and his

manly countenance was expressive of the most delicate timidity: he

hastened to resume the conversation, for fear that the Count might

disturb his secret joy by observing it. "If the adventure of Ancona

deserves to be related," said Oswald, "'tis to you, also, my dear Count,

that the honour of it belongs." "It is true," answered d'Erfeuil,

laughing, "that they mentioned an amiable Frenchman, who was along with

you, my lord; but no one save myself paid attention to this parenthesis

in the narration. The lovely Corinne prefers you; she believes you,

without doubt, the more faithful of the two: perhaps she may be

mistaken; you may even cause her more grief than I should; but women are

fond of pain, provided it is a little romantic; so you will suit her."

Lord Nelville suffered from every word of the Count, but what could he

say to him? He never argued; he never listened attentively enough to

change his opinion; his words, once uttered, gave him no farther

concern, and the best way was to forget them, if possible, as soon as he

himself did.

Chapter iii.

Oswald arrived in the evening at Corinne's, with a sentiment entirely

new; he thought that he was expected. What enchantment there is in that

first gleam of intercourse with the object of our love!--before

remembrance enters into partnership with hope--before words have

expressed our sentiments,--before eloquence has painted what we feel,

there is in these first moments, something so indefinite, a mystery of

the imagination, more fleeting than happiness, it must be owned, but

also more celestial.

Oswald, on entering the apartment of Corinne, felt more timid than ever.

He saw that she was alone, and that circumstance almost gave him pain:

he could have wished to see her longer in the midst of society; he could

have wished to be convinced, in some manner, of her preference, instead

of finding himself all of a sudden engaged in a conversation which might

make Corinne cool towards him, if, as was certain, he should appear

embarrassed, and cold in consequence of that embarrassment.

Whether Corinne perceived this disposition of Oswald, or whether it was

that a similar disposition produced in her a desire to animate the

conversation in order to remove restraint, she asked his Lordship

whether he had seen any of the monuments of Rome. "No," answered Oswald.

"What did you do with yourself yesterday, then?" replied Corinne

smiling. "I passed the whole day at home," said Oswald. "Since I have

been at Rome, Madam, my time has been divided between solitude and you."

Corinne wished to introduce the subject of his behaviour at Ancona; she

began by these words: "Yesterday I learnt--" then she stopped and said,

"I will speak to you of that when the company comes." There was a

dignity in the manners of Lord Nelville that intimidated Corinne; and,

besides, she feared, lest in reminding him of his noble conduct, she

should betray too much emotion; conceiving that emotion would be less

when they were no longer alone. Oswald was deeply touched with the

reserve of Corinne, and the frankness with which she testified, without

thinking, the motives of that reserve; but the more he was affected the

less was he able to express what he felt.

He arose all of a sudden, and advanced towards the window; then he felt

that Corinne would be unable to explain the meaning of this movement,

and more disconcerted than ever, he returned to his place without saying

anything. There was in the conversation of Corinne more confidence than

in that of Oswald; nevertheless, she partook of the embarrassment which

he exhibited; and in her absence of mind, seeking to recover her

countenance, she placed her fingers upon the harp which was standing by

her side, and struck some chords, without connection or design. These

harmonious sounds, by increasing the emotion of Oswald, seemed to

inspire him with more boldness. He could now look at Corinne, and who

but must have been struck, in beholding her, with that divine

inspiration which was painted in her eyes! Encouraged at the same moment

by that mild expression which veiled the majesty of her looks, he would

then perhaps have spoken, but was prevented by the entrance of Prince

Castel-Forte.

It was not without pain that he beheld Nelville _tête-à-tête_ with

Corinne, but he was accustomed to dissimulate his feelings. This habit,

which is often found in the Italians united with great vehemence of

sensation, was in him rather the result of indolence and of natural

gentleness. He was content not to be the first object of Corinne's

affections; he was no longer young; he possessed great intelligence,

considerable taste for the arts, an imagination sufficiently animated to

diversify life without disturbing it, and such a desire to pass all his

evenings with Corinne, that if she were to be married he would conjure

her husband to let him come every day, to see her as usual, and upon

this condition he would not have been very unhappy at seeing her united

to another. The grief of the heart is not found in Italy complicated

with the sufferings of vanity, so that we find there, men either

passionate enough to stab their rival through jealousy, or men modest

enough to take willingly the second rank in the favour of a lady whose

conversation is agreeable to them; but rarely will be found any who for

fear of being thought despised, would refuse to preserve any sort of

connection which they found pleasing. The empire of society over

self-esteem is almost null in this country.

The Count d'Erfeuil and the company that met every evening at Corinne's

house being assembled, the conversation turned upon the talent for

improvisation which their heroine had so gloriously displayed at the

Capitol, and they went so far as to ask her own opinion of it. "It is

something so rare," said Prince Castel-Forte, "to find any one at once

susceptible of enthusiasm and of analysis, gifted as an artist and

capable of observing herself, that we must intreat her to reveal to us

the secrets of her genius." "The talent for improvisation," replied

Corinne, "is not more extraordinary in the languages of the south, than

the eloquence of the tribune, or the brilliant vivacity of conversation

in other tongues. I will even say that, unfortunately it is with us more

easy to make verses _impromptu_ than to speak well in prose. The

language of poetry is so different from that of prose, that from the

first verses the attention is commanded by the expressions themselves,

which, if I may so express it, place the poet at a distance from his

auditors. It is not only to the softness of the Italian language, but

much more to its strong and pronounced vibration of sonorous syllables,

that we must attribute the empire of poetry amongst us. There is a kind

of musical charm in Italian, by which the bare sound of words, almost

independently of the ideas, produces pleasure; besides, these words have

almost all something picturesque in them; they paint what they express.

You feel that it is in the midst of the arts, and under an auspicious

sky that this melodious, and highly-coloured language has been formed.

It is therefore more easy in Italy than any where else, to seduce with

words, without profundity of thought or novelty of imagery. Poetry, like

all the fine arts, captivates the senses, as much as the intellect. I

dare venture to say, however, that I have never improvised without

feeling myself animated by some real emotion, some idea which I believed

new, therefore I hope that I have trusted less than others to our

bewitching language. It is possible, if I may say so, to prelude at

random, and convey a lively pleasure by the charm of rhythm and of

harmony alone."

"You believe then," interrupted one of the friends of Corinne, "that the

talent for improvisation injures our literature; I thought so once

myself, but hearing you, madam, has made me entirely alter that

opinion." "I have said," replied Corinne, "that there resulted from this

facility, this literary abundance, a quantity of inferior poetry; but I

am as pleased with this fecundity, which exists in Italy, as I am with

seeing our fields covered with a thousand superfluous products. This

liberality of nature makes me proud. I am particularly pleased with the

improvisations of the lower classes of the people; it discovers their

imagination to us, which is concealed everywhere else, and is only

developed amongst us. They give a poetical character to the lowest

orders of society, and spare us the contempt which we cannot help

feeling for every thing that is vulgar. When our Sicilians, conveying

travellers in their vessels, so delicately and politely felicitate them

in their pleasing dialect, and wish them in verse a sweet and long

adieu, one would say the pure breeze of heaven and of the sea produces

the same effect upon the imagination of men as the wind on the Æolian

harp, and that poetry, like the chords of that instrument, is the echo

of nature. One thing makes me attach an additional value to our talent

for improvisation, and that is, that it would be almost impossible in a

society disposed to mockery. It requires the good humour of the south,

or rather of those countries where people love to amuse themselves

without taking pleasure in criticising that which affords them

amusement, to encourage poets to venture on so perilous an enterprise.

One jeering smile would be sufficient to destroy that presence of mind

necessary for a sudden and uninterrupted composition: your audience must

become animated with you, and inspire you with their applause."

"But madam," said Oswald at last, who till then had kept silence without

having for a moment ceased to behold Corinne, "to which of your poetical

talents do you yourself give the preference? To the work of inflection,

or of momentary inspiration?" "My lord," answered Corinne, with a look

that expressed the highest interest and the most delicate sentiment of

respectful consideration, "it is you that I would wish to make the judge

of that; but if you ask me to examine my own thoughts upon this subject,

I would say that improvisation is to me as an animated conversation. I

do not confine myself to any particular subject, I yield entirely to the

impression produced on me by the attention of my hearers, and it is to

my friends, in this instance, that I owe the greatest part of my talent.

Sometimes the impassioned interest with which I am inspired by a

conversation in which we have spoken of some great and noble question

that relates to the moral existence of man, his destiny, his end, his

duties and his affections; sometimes this interest elevates me above my

strength, makes me discover in nature, in my own heart, bold truths,

expressions full of life, that solitary reflection would not have given

birth to. I then believe myself acted upon by a supernatural enthusiasm,

and feel that what is speaking within me is greater than myself. Often I

quit the rhythm of poetry to express my thoughts in prose; sometimes I

quote the finest verses of the different languages I am acquainted with.

These divine verses, with which my soul is penetrated, have become my

own. Sometimes also I finish upon my lyre by chords, by simple and

national airs, the sentiments and thoughts which have escaped me in

speaking. In a word, I feel myself a poet, not only when a happy choice

of rhymes and harmonious syllables, or a happy combination of images

dazzles my auditors, but when my soul is elevated to the highest degree

and looks down with contempt upon every thing that is selfish and base:

in short, when a noble action appears most easy to me, it is then that

my poetry is in its greatest perfection. I am a poet when I admire, when

I despise, when I hate, not from personal feeling, not on my own

account, but for the dignity of human nature and the glory of the

world."

Corinne then perceiving how the conversation had carried her away,

blushed a little, and turning towards Lord Nelville said to him, "you

see, my lord, I cannot touch upon any of those subjects that affect me

without experiencing that sort of shock which is the source of ideal

beauty in the arts, of religion in solitary minds, of generosity in

heroes, and of disinterestedness among men. Pardon me, my lord, although

such a woman resemble but little those whom your nation approves." "Who

could resemble you?" replied Lord Nelville; "can we make laws for one

who is without her like?"

The Count d'Erfeuil was absolutely enchanted, notwithstanding he had not

understood all that Corinne had said; but her gestures, the sound of her

voice, and her pronunciation, charmed him.--It was the first time that

any grace which was not French had produced an effect upon him. But

indeed the great celebrity of Corinne at Rome put him a little in the

way of what he should think of her, and in his admiration of this

extraordinary lady he did not drop the good custom of letting himself be

guided by the opinion of others.

He quitted Corinne's house along with Lord Nelville, and said to him on

their way home, "allow, my dear Oswald, that I may lay claim to some

merit for not having paid my court to so charming a lady." "But,"

observed Nelville, "it seems, according to general opinion, that she is

not easy to please in that respect." "It is said so," replied the Count,

"but I can hardly believe it. A single woman of independent means who

leads nearly the life of an artist ought not to be so difficult to

captivate." Lord Nelville was wounded by this reflection. The Count,

whether he did not perceive it, or whether he wished to pursue the train

of his own ideas, continued thus:

"I do not mean to say, however, that if I entertained much faith in a

lady's virtue, I might not as readily believe in that of Corinne as in

that of any other. She has certainly a thousand times more expression in

her look, and vivacity in her arguments than would be necessary in your

country, or even in ours, to excite suspicion of the rigidness of a

lady's virtue; but she is a person of so superior a mind, such profound

knowledge, and such fine tact, that the ordinary rules by which we judge

a woman cannot apply to her. In fact, would you believe it,

notwithstanding the openness of her disposition, and the freedom of her

conversation, she really imposes reserve upon me. It was my wish,

yesterday, with all due respect to her predilection for you, to say a

few words, at random, upon my own account: they were words that take

their chance; if they are heard, well and good; if not, well and good

still; and do you know Corinne gave me such cold looks that I was quite

disconcerted. It is, however, singular that one should feel any timidity

in the company of an Italian, a poet, an artist, every thing, in short,

that ought to produce quite a contrary effect." "Her name is unknown,"

observed Nelville, "but her manners would make one believe that her

birth is illustrious." "Ah! it is in romances," said the Count, "that we

see the finest part of a character concealed, but in real life people

are more disposed to exhibit all that is most honourable in their life,

and even a little more than all." "Yes," interrupted Oswald, "in some

societies where people think of nothing but the effect they can produce

upon one another; but in one whose existence is internal there may be

mysteries in circumstances, as there are secrets in thought, and he only

who would espouse Corinne might be able to know them." "Espouse

Corinne!" interrupted the Count, bursting out laughing, "truly that idea

never occurred to me! Take my advice, my dear Nelville, if you wish to

do foolish things let them be such as will admit of reparation; but as

for marriage, you must always consider propriety. I appear frivolous in

your eyes, nevertheless I wager that in the conduct of life I shall be

more reasonable than you." "I believe so too," answered Lord Nelville,

and said not another word.

In effect, he might have told the Count d'Erfeuil that there is often a

great deal of egotism in frivolity, and that such egotism can never

betray people into those errors of sentiment in which we always

sacrifice our own personal considerations to those of others! Frivolous

characters are very likely to acquire address in the pursuit of their

own interests; for in all that is called the political science of

private, as well as of public life, people succeed oftener by those

qualities which they have not than by those which they possess. Absence

of enthusiasm, absence of opinion, absence of sensibility, a little

understanding, combined with this negative treasure, and social life,

that is to say, fortune and rank, may be acquired or supported well

enough. The pleasantries of the Count however pained Lord Nelville; he

blamed them, but nevertheless they continually occupied his thoughts.

Book iv.