ve
Dorina. His vanished darling he could not, for some extraordinary
reason, conceive of as being his wife. She was pictured in his
imagination as an intellectual vision, that he could neither lose nor
win. Oh! to be immanent in his beloved intellectually for ever! never
to have her and own her physically! But Dorina was often in his
thoughts as his dearly loved wife; and as often as he contemplated the
idea of again binding himself in the indissoluble bonds of
betrothal,[10] he felt a delicious tremor run through him and a gentle
warmth pervade his veins; and yet he regarded it as unfaithfulness to
his first love. Thus Traugott's heart was the scene of contest between
the most contradictory feelings; he could not make up his mind what to
do. He avoided the old painter; and _he_ accordingly feared Traugott
intended to receive his dear child. He had moreover already spoken of
Traugott's wedding as a settled thing; and it was only under this
impression that he had tolerated Dorina's familiar intimacy with
Traugott, which otherwise would have given the girl an ill name. The
blood of the Italian boiled within him, and one day he roundly declared
to Traugott that he must either marry Dorina or leave him, for he would
not tolerate this familiar intercourse an hour longer. Traugott was
tormented by the keenest annoyance as well as by the bitterest
vexation. The old man he viewed in the light of a vile match-maker; his
own actions and behaviour were contemptible; and that he had ever
deserted Felicia he now judged to be sinful and abominable. His heart
was sore wounded at parting from Dorina; but with a violent effort he
tore himself free from the sweet bonds. He hastened away to Naples, to
Sorrento.

He spent a whole year in making the strictest inquiries after
Berklinger and Felicia; but all was in vain; nobody knew anything about
them. The sole gleam of intelligence that he could find was a vague
sort of presumption, which was founded merely upon the tradition
that an old German painter had been seen in Sorrento several years
before--and that was all. After being driven backwards and forwards
like a boat on the restless sea, Traugott at length came to a stand in
Naples; and in proportion as his industry in art pursuits again
awakened, the longing for Felicia which he cherished in his bosom grew
softer and milder. But he never saw any pretty girl, if she was the
least like Dorina in figure, movement, or bearing, without feel