“The Phedre of Racine has furnished the subject of the fourth picture,” said Corinne, showing it to Lord Nelville.—­“Hippolitus, in all the beauty of youth and innocence, repels the perfidious accusations of his step-mother; the hero, Theseus, still protects his guilty spouse, whom he encircles with his conquering arm.  There is in the countenance of Phedre, a trouble which freezes the soul with horror; and her nurse, without remorse, encourages her in her guilt.  Hippolitus in this picture is perhaps more beautiful than even in Racine; he resembles more the ancient Meleager, because no love for Aricia disturbs the impression of his wild and noble virtue; but is it possible to suppose that Phedre, in the presence of Hippolitus, can support her falsehood?  Is it possible that she can behold him innocent and persecuted without falling at his feet?  An offended woman may wrong the object of her affection in his absence; but when she sees him, her heart is wholly absorbed in love.  The poet has never put Phedre and Hippolitus in the same scene after the former has calumniated the latter; the painter has been obliged to do so in order to bring together, as he has done in his picture, all the beauties of the contrast; but is not this a proof that there is such a difference between poetical and picturesque subjects that it would be better for the poets to write from pictures, than for the painters to compose their works from the poets?  The history of the human mind proves to us that imagination must always precede thought.”

Whilst Corinne was thus explaining her pictures to Lord Nelville, she had stopped several times, in the hope that he would speak to her; but his wounded soul did not betray itself by a single word; whenever she expressed a feeling idea he only sighed and turned his head, in order that she might not see how easily he was affected in his present state of mind.  Corinne, overcome by this silence, sat down and covered her face with her hands—­Lord Nelville for some time walked about the room with a hurried step, then approaching Corinne, was about to betray his feelings; but the invincible pride of his nature repressed his emotion, and he returned to the pictures as if he were waiting for Corinne to finish showing them.  Corinne expected much from the effect of the last of all; and making an effort in her turn to appear calm, she arose and said, “My lord, I have yet three landscapes to show you—­two of them are allied to very interesting ideas.  I am not fond of those rustic scenes which are as dull in painting as idylls, when they make no allusion to fable or to history.  I am most pleased with the manner of Salvator Rosa, who represents, as you see in this picture, a rock with torrents and trees, without a single living creature, without even a bird recalling an idea of life.  The absence of man in the midst of natural scenes, excites deep reflection.  What would the earth be in this state of solitude?  A work without an aim; and yet a work so beautiful, the mysterious impression of which would be addressed to the Divinity alone!