ure, in terms which would have
seemed exaggerated and too direct if they had not been marked by an
obvious sincerity, which made the praise very seductive. She
perceived my embarrassment, and expresssd a desire to see me often,
on her return to Paris; for she was going to Coppet. It was then a
mere apparition in my life; but the impression was intense. I thought
only of Madame de Stael, so strongly did I return the action of this
ardent and forceful nature."

Madame de Stael was a plain, energetic embodiment of the most
impassioned genius. Madame Recamier was a dazzling personification of
physical loveliness, united with the perfection of mental harmony.
She had an enthusiastic admiration for her friend, who, in return,
found an unspeakable luxury in her society. Her angelic candor of
soul, and the frosty purity which enveloped her as a shield, inspired
the tenderest respect; while her happy equipoise calmed and refreshed
the restless and expensive imagination of the renowned author. There
could be no rivalry between them. Both had lofty and thoroughly
sincere characters. They were partly the reflection, partly the
complement, of each other; and their relation was a blessed one,
charming and memorable among such records. "Are you not happy,"
writes Madame de Stael, "in your magical power of inspiring
affection? To be sure always of being loved by those you love, seems
to me the highest terrestrial happiness, the greatest conceivable
privilege." Again, acknowledging the gift from her friend of a
bracelet containing her portrait, she says, "It has this
inconvenience: I find myself kissing it too often." In 1800, Madame
Recamier had a brilliant social triumph in England: "Ah, well,
beautiful Juliette! do you miss us? Have your successes in London
made you forget your friends in Paris?" Madame Recamier was the
original of the picture of the shawl-dance in "Corinne;" and her
friend says of her, in the "Ten Years of Exile," that "her beauty
expressed her character." The following passages, taken from letters
written in 1804, show how the intimacy had deepened:

"For four clays, faithless beauty, I have not heard the noise of the
wind without thinking it was your carriage. Come quickly. My mind and
my heart have need of you more than of any other friend." "I have
just seen Madame Henri Belmont. People say that all beautiful persons
remind them of you. It is not so with me. I have never found any one
who looks like you; and