d everything to language. The
musicians, in beholding her, exerted themselves to make the genius of
their art felt more exquisitely; a kind of passionate joy, a sensibility
of the imagination, electrified all the spectators of the magic dance,
and transported them to that state of ideal existence in which we dream
of happiness that does not exist in this world.

There is a part of this Neapolitan dance when the lady kneels, whilst
the gentleman moves round her, not as a master, but as a
conqueror.--What at this moment were the charms and dignity of Corinne.
How regal, even in kneeling, did she appear! And when she arose,
striking her aerial cymbal, she seemed animated with that lively
enthusiasm of youth and beauty, which would create a belief that nothing
was wanting to complete her happiness. Alas! it was far otherwise; but
Oswald feared it, and sighed in the midst of his admiration of Corinne,
as if each triumph of her genius was a degree of separation from him: at
the conclusion of the dance, the gentleman kneels in his turn, and the
lady dances round him. Corinne in this part, if it were possible,
surpassed herself; her step was so light, as she tripped two or three
times round the same circle, that her buskined feet seemed to fly over
the floor with the velocity of lightning; and when she lifted up one of
her hands, shaking the tambourine, while with the other she motioned the
Prince Amalfi to rise, all the male part of the company were tempted to
throw themselves on their knees too, except Oswald, who retired a few
paces backward, and the Count d'Erfeuil, who advanced a few paces
forward to compliment Corinne. This enthusiasm of the Italians was by no
means assumed, but was the spontaneous effect of their feelings. They
are not sufficiently practised in society and in self-esteem to pay much
regard to the effect which their actions will produce; they never let
themselves be thwarted in their pleasures by vanity, nor turned aside
from the object of their pursuit by applause.

Corinne was charmed at her success, and thanked all her admirers with
the most simple grace.--The satisfaction she felt at having succeeded so
well, appeared beneath a veil of modesty; but her chief anxiety was to
make her way through the crowd, in order to reach the door against which
the pensive Oswald was leaning. When she had reached the spot, she
paused to hear what he would say to her:--"Corinne," said he,
endeavouring to conceal his c