From the edge of that platform, and from the dismantled terraces of the
old monastery, at evening time, the eye embraces the most enchanting
horizon that ever delighted an anchorite, a contemplator, or a lover.
Behind is the green and humid shade of the mountain, with the murmur of
its source, and the rustling of its foliage; and on one side the ruins,
the broken walls, with their garlands of ivy, and the dark arcades
replete with night and mystery; the lake, with its expiring waves
slowly rolling, one by one, their fringes of spray at the foot of the
rocks, as if to spread its couch and lull its sleep on the fine sands.
On the opposite shore, the blue mountains clothed with their
transparent tints; and on the right, as far as the eye can reach, the
luminous track that the sun leaves in crimson light on the sky and on
the lake, when it withdraws its splendor. I revelled in this light and
shade, in these clouds and waves. I incorporated myself with lovely
Nature, and thought thus to incorporate in me the image of her who was
all nature for me. I inwardly said I saw her there. I was at that
distance from her boat when I saw it struggling against the storm.
There is the shore where she landed; there is the orchard where we
opened our hearts to each other in the sunshine, and where she returned
to life to give me two lives. There in the distance are the tops of the
poplars of the great avenue which unrolls its length like a green
serpent issuing from the waves. There are the chalets, mossy turf, and
woods of chestnut-tree, the sheltered paths upon the highest
mountain-planes where I picked flowers, strawberries, and chestnuts to
fill her lap. There she said this; there I confessed some secret of my
soul; and on that spot we remained a whole evening silent, our hearts
flooded with enthusiasm, our lips without language. Upon these waves
she wished to die; upon this shore she promised me to live. Beneath
yonder group of walnut-trees, then leafless, she bid me farewell, and
promised me that I should see her again before the new leaves should
have turned yellow. They are about to change; but love is faithful as
Nature. In a few days I shall see her once more.... I see her already;
for am I not here awaiting her? and thus to wait, is it not as though I
saw her again?