a comparison from
his mind--for then it was a perfidious art that had overcome him; but
who could doubt the truth of Corinne? Was that peculiar charm she
possessed the effect of magic, or of poetical inspiration? Was she an
Armida, or a Sappho? Was there any hope of captivating so lofty and
brilliant a genius! It was impossible to decide; but at least it was
easily seen, that not society, but heaven itself, could have formed this
extraordinary being, and that her mind could no more be imitated, than
her character feigned. "Oh, my father!" said Oswald, "if you had known
Corinne what would you have thought of her?"

Chapter ii.

The Count d'Erfeuil came in the morning, according to custom, to see
Lord Nelville, and reproaching him for not having been to see Corinne
the day before, said, "Had you come, you would have been very happy."
"Why so?" replied Oswald. "Because yesterday I discovered, to a
certainty, that you have greatly interested her." "Still this levity,"
interrupted Lord Nelville; "know that I neither can nor will endure it."
"Do you call levity," said the Count, "the promptitude of my
observation? Am I less in the right, because more quickly so? You were
made to live in the happy time of the Patriarchs, when the age of man
was five centuries; but mind, I give you notice that four of them at
least are lopped off in our days." "Be it so," answered Oswald, "and
what discovery have you made by these rapid observations?"--"That
Corinne loves you. Yesterday, when I arrived at her house, she received
me very kindly, to be sure; but her eyes were fixed on the door, to see
whether you followed me. She tried for a moment to talk of something
else; but as she is a lady of a very ingenuous and natural disposition,
she asked me, quite frankly, why you had not come with me? I blamed you
very much; I said that you were a very odd, gloomy sort of creature; but
you will excuse my relating all that I said over and above in your
praise."

"'He is very sad,' said Corinne; 'he must certainly have lost some one
very dear to him. Whom is he in mourning for?' 'His father, Madam,' said
I; 'though it is more than a year since he lost him; and as the law of
nature obliges us all to survive our parents, I imagine there is some
other secret cause for so long and deep a melancholy.' 'Oh!' replied
Corinne, 'I am very far from thinking that griefs, similar in
appearance, are felt alike by all men. I am very much tempted to believ