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Chapter i.
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.