present and without a future.

I will now return to my narrative, which I have kept steadily in view.

Clementine gazed from me to the books, and from the books to me. She
wondered and admired, and could scarcely believe this treasure belonged
to her. At last she collected herself, and said in a tone full of
gratitude,--

"You have come to St. Angelo to make me happy."

Such a saying makes a man into a god. He is sure that she who speaks thus
will do all in her power to make a return for the happiness which she has
been given.

There is something supremely lovely in the expression of gratefulness on
the face of the being one loves. If you have not experienced the feelings
I describe, dear reader, I pity you, and am forced to conclude that you
must have been either awkward or miserly, and therefore unworthy of love.

Clementine ate scarcely anything at dinner, and afterwards retired to her
room where I soon joined her. We amused ourselves by putting the books in
order, and she sent for a carpenter to make a bookcase with a lock and
key.

"It will be my pleasure to read these books," said she, "when you have
left us."

In the evening she was lucky with the cards, and in delightful spirits. I
asked them all to dine with me at Lodi, but as the dinner was for twelve
the Countess Ambrose said she would be able to find the two guests who
were wanted at Lodi, and the canon said he would take the lady friend
with her two children.

The next day was one of happy quiet, and I spent it without leaving the
castle, being engaged in instructing my Hebe on the nature of the sphere,
and in preparing her for the beauties of Wolf. I presented her with my
case of mathematical instruments, which seemed to her invaluable.

I burned with passion for this charming girl; but would I have done so in
her taste for literature and science had not been backed up by her
personal charms? I suspect not. I like a dish pleasing to the palate, but
if it is not pleasing to the eye as well, I do not taste it but put down
as bad. The surface is always the first to interest, close examination
comes afterwards. The man who confines himself to superficial charms, is
superficial himself, but with them all love begins, except that which
rises in the realm of fancy, and this nearly always falls before the
reality.

When I went to bed, still thinking of Clementine, I began to reflect
seriously, and I was astonished to find that during all the hours we