arm 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.

"This morning then," said Corinne, "I will shew you the Pantheon and St
Peter's: I had, indeed, some hope," added she smiling, "that you would
accept my offer to make the tour of Rome with yo