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"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?"
Several times she intreated Prince Castel-Forte to assist her with his opinion on the same subject; but she spoke so well herself, that all the audience were delighted in listening to her, and would not suffer her to be interrupted.
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."
The reputation of Prince Castel-Forte was very great in Rome. He spoke with a rare sagacity, which is a remarkable gift in a nation who exhibit more intellect in their conduct than in their conversation. He did not in his worldly concerns shew that address which often distinguishes the Italians, but he took delight in thought, and did not dread the fatigue of meditation.
"If you wish," interrupted Prince Castel-Forte, "to convince the company of what you assert, it only remains for you to prove it: yes, allow us to enjoy the inexpressible pleasure of seeing you perform tragedy; you must grant these foreign gentlemen the rare enjoyment of being made acquainted with a talent which you alone in Italy possess; or rather that you alone in the world possess, since the whole of your genius is impressed upon it."
"This country," continued Prince Castel-Forte, "where your language is spoken, where you are so well known, where you are so warmly admired, and your friends, Corinne your friends! Where will you be beloved as you are here? Where will you find that perfection of the imagination and the fine arts, so congenial to your soul? Is then our whole life composed of one sentiment?
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.
"What you say is true," replied Prince Castel-Forte, mildly; "but you have only spoken of music and dancing, which do not comprise what we understand by the drama of any country."
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.
Corinne, however, took a kind farewell of Prince Castel-Forte; but her obliging expressions were lost in the midst of the cries of postillions, the neighing of horses, and all that bustle of departure, sometimes sad, and sometimes intoxicating, according to the fear or the hope which the new chances of destiny inspire.
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