Chapter iii.
Oswald visited Corinne at an early hour, uneasy at what she had said tohim. He was received by her maid, who gave him a note from her mistressinforming him that she had entered the convent on that same morning,agreeably to the intention of which he had been apprised by her, andthat she should not be able to see him until after Good Friday. Sheowned to him that she could not find courage to make known her intentionof retiring so soon, in their conversation the evening before. This wasan unexpected stroke to Oswald. That house, which the absence of Corinnenow rendered so solitary, made the most painful impression upon hismind; he beheld her harp, her books, her drawings, all that habituallysurrounded her; but she herself was no longer there. The recollection ofhis father's house struck him--he shuddered and, unable to supporthimself, sunk into a chair.
"In such a way as this," cried he, "I might learn her death! That mind,so animated, that heart, throbbing with life, that dazzling form, in allthe freshness of vernal bloom, might be crushed by the thunderbolt offate, and the tomb of youth would be silent as that of age. Ah! what anillusion is happiness! What a fleeting moment stolen from inflexibleTime, ever watching for his prey! Corinne! Corinne! you must not leaveme; it was the charm of your presence which deprived me of reflection;all was confusion in my thoughts, dazzled as I was by the happy momentswhich I passed with you. Now I am alone--now I am restored to myself,and all my wounds are opened afresh." He invoked Corinne with a kind ofdespair which could not be attributed to her short absence, but to thehabitual anguish of his heart, which Corinne alone could assuage.Corinne's maid, hearing the groans of Oswald, entered the room and,touched with the manner in which he was affected by the absence of hermistress, said to him, "My lord, let me comfort you; I hope my dear ladywill pardon me for betraying her secret. Come into my room, and youshall see your portrait." "My portrait!" cried he. "Yes; she has paintedit from memory," replied Theresa (that was the name of Corinne's maid);"she has risen at five o'clock in the morning this week past, in orderto finish it before she went to the convent."
Oswald saw this portrait, which was a striking likeness and mostelegantly executed: this proof of the impression which he had made onCorinne penetrated him with the sweetest emotion. Opposite this portraitwas a charming picture, representing the Blessed Virgin--and before thispicture was the oratory of Corinne. This singular mixture of love andreligion is common to the greater part of Italian women, attended withcircumstances more extraordinary than in the apartment of Corinne; forfree and unrestrained as was her life, the remembrance of Oswald wasunited in her mind with the purest hopes and purest sentiments; but toplace thus the resemblance of a lover opposite an emblem of divinity,and to prepare for a retreat to a convent by consecrating a week topaint that resemblance, was a trait that characterised Italian women ingeneral rather than Corinne in particular. Their kind of devotionsupposes more imagination and sensibility than seriousness of mind andseventy of principles;--nothing could be more contrary to Oswald'sreligious ideas; yet how could he find fault with Corinne, at the verymoment when he received so affecting a proof of her love?
He minutely surveyed this chamber, which he now entered for the firsttime: at the head of Corinne's bed he saw the portrait of an elderlyman, whose physiognomy was not Italian; two bracelets were hanging nearthis portrait, one formed of dark and light hair twisted together; theother was of the most lovely flaxen, and what appeared a most remarkableeffect of chance, perfectly resembled that of Lucilia Edgermond, whichhe had observed very attentively three years ago on account of itsextreme beauty. Oswald contemplated these bracelets without uttering aword, for to interrogate Theresa he felt to be unworthy of him. ButTheresa, fancying she guessed Oswald's thoughts, and wishing to removefrom his mind every jealous suspicion, hastened to inform him thatduring eleven years that she had waited on Corinne, her mistress hadalways worn these bracelets, and that she knew they were composed of thehair of her father and mother, and that of her sister. "You have beeneleven years with Corinne," said Lord Nelville; "you know then--"blushing, he suddenly checked himself, ashamed of the question he wasabout to put, and quitted the house immediately, to avoid saying anotherword.
In going away, he turned about several times to behold the windows ofCorinne, and when he had lost sight of her habitation, he felt a sadnessnow new to him--that which springs from solitude. In the evening, hesought to dissipate his melancholy by joining a distinguished assemblyin Rome; for to find a charm in reverie, we must in our happy as well asin our clouded moments, be at peace with ourselves.
The party he visited was soon insupportable to Lord Nelville, inasmuchas it made him feel more sensibly all the charms that Corinne coulddiffuse through society, by observing the void caused by her absence. Heessayed to converse with some ladies, who answered him in that insipidphraseology which is established to avoid the true expression of oursentiments and opinions, if those who use it have anything of this sortto conceal. He approached several groups of gentlemen who seemed bytheir voice and gesture to be discoursing upon some important subject;he heard them discussing the most trivial topic in the most commonmanner. He then sat down to contemplate at his ease, that vivacitywithout motive and without aim which is found in most numerousassemblies; nevertheless, mediocrity in Italy is by no meansdisagreeable; it has little vanity, little jealousy, and much respectfor superiority of mind; and if it fatigues with its dulness, it hardlyever offends by its pretensions.
It was in these very assemblies, however, that Oswald had found so muchto interest him a few days before; the slight obstacle which the companyopposed to his conversation with Corinne,--the speedy opportunity whichshe took to return to him as soon as she had been sufficiently polite tothe rest of the circle,--the similarity of sentiment which existedbetween them in the observations which the company suggested,--thepleasure which Corinne took when discoursing in Oswald's presence, toaddress indirectly to him some reflection of which he alone comprehendedthe true meaning, had attached such recollections to every part of thisvery room, that Oswald had been deluded so far as to believe that therewas something amusing in these assemblies themselves. "Ah!" said he,when departing, "it was here as every where else--she was the life ofthe scene; let me rather seek the most desert spot till she return. Ishall feel her absence less bitterly when there is nothing about mebearing the resemblance of pleasure."
Book x.
HOLY WEEK.