“Without doubt, Rome could easily present a great number of scholars whose profound erudition might be much more useful to you, but if I can succeed in inspiring you with a love for this retreat, towards which I have always felt myself so imperiously attracted, your own studies will finish the rude draft which I shall have begun.

“Many foreigners come to Rome as they would go to London or to Paris, to seek the dissipation of a great city; and if they dared confess they were bored at Rome, I believe the greater part would confess it; but it is equally true that here may be found a charm that never tires.  Will you pardon me, my lord, a wish that this charm were known to you.

“It is true that here you must forget all the political interests in the world, but when these interests are not united to sacred sentiments and duties they chill the heart.  Here too you must renounce what would be called the pleasures of society, but these pleasures almost invariably wither up the imagination.  In Rome you may enjoy an existence at once solitary and animated, which freely develops all that Heaven has implanted in us.  I repeat it, my lord; pardon this love of my country, which begets a desire to make it beloved by such a man as you; and do not judge, with the severity of an Englishman, those testimonies of good-will which an Italian hopes she may give you without sinking either in her own estimation or in yours.

CORRINE.”

In vain would Oswald have endeavoured to conceal the exquisite pleasure he received from this letter; he caught a glimpse of a confused future of enjoyment and happiness:  imagination, love, enthusiasm, all that is divine in the soul of man, appeared to him united with the project of seeing Rome with Corinne.  For, this time he did not reflect; this time he set out the very instant to visit Corinne, and by the way he contemplated the sky, he enjoyed the charm of the weather, life sat lightly on him.  His griefs and his fears were lost in the clouds of hope; his heart, so long oppressed by sadness, palpitated and leaped with joy; he feared, it is true, that so happy a disposition of mind might not last; but the very idea that it was fleeting gave to this fever of enjoyment more force and activity.

“What, are you come already?” said Corinne, seeing Lord Nelville enter; “Ah, thanks!” and she stretched forth her hand.  Oswald seized it, and imprinted his lips on it with the warmest tenderness; nor did he suffer now that timidity which often mingled itself with his most agreeable impressions, and caused him sometimes to endure, in the company of those he loved best, the most bitter and painful feelings.  The intimacy had commenced between Oswald and Corinne since they had parted; it was the letter of Corinne which had established it:  they were satisfied with each other, and mutually felt the most tender gratitude.