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"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.

As to you and me, my dear Oswald, that idea does not concern us, we are too much accustomed to charming women to commit foolish things; but who knows? a German prince, or a Spanish grandee " At these words Oswald rose up almost beside himself, and it is impossible to conceive what would have been the issue, if the Count d'Erfeuil had perceived his emotion; but he was so satisfied with his last reflection, that he tripped away lightly, not in the least suspecting that he had offended Lord Nelville: had he known it, though he loved him as much as man could love another, he would certainly have remained.

He was about fifty years of age, and there was in his speech and in his deportment much deliberate ease and dignity. The assurances which Lord Nelville received from those about him, that he was only the friend of Corinne, excited, in his lordship's mind, an interest for the portrait which he drew of her, unmixed with any other emotion.

At the name of Lady Nelville Corinne was embarrassed she blushed and cast down her eyes. Oswald appeared to hesitate a moment: then suddenly taking her hand, he said to her in English, "Come, my dear," and she followed him.

The tenderness she cherished for this eccentric lover, induced a wish to see him; but it was extremely painful to her that he should imagine her to be desirous of marrying him, although their fortunes were at least equal, and although in revealing her name, it would be easy to show that it was by no means inferior to that of Lord Nelville.

It is forgetfulness alone that debases the soul; but it may find an asylum in the past, when barren circumstances deprive actions of their aim. On leaving Pompei and returning to Portici, Corinne and Lord Nelville were surrounded by the inhabitants, who cried to them loudly to come and see the mountain; so they call Vesuvius. Is it necessary to name it?

We suffer, and feel at the same time that our suffering ought to increase, or at least terminate in a violent explanation, by which one of those two sentiments that lacerate the heart must obtain a complete triumph. It was in such a state of mind as this that Lord Nelville wrote to Corinne. His letter was harsh and ungentlemanly.

These recollections excited in Lord Nelville a grief so insupportable that not only was he unable to confide it to others, but even dreaded himself to sound it to the bottom. So easily do our own reflections become to us an irreparable evil. It costs us more to quit our native country when to leave it we must traverse the sea; all is solemn in a journey of which ocean marks the first steps.

Lord Nelville perceiving that it was impossible to prevail upon this maniac to save himself, though the flames increased around them, seized him in his arms, in spite of the efforts of the unhappy wretch, who struggled against his benefactor.

It is not simply an assemblage of habitations, it is the history of the world, figured by divers emblems and represented under various forms. Corinne agreed with Lord Nelville that they should go and visit together, the edifices of modern Rome, and reserve for another opportunity the admirable collections of pictures and statues which it contains.