ee that I can do nothing for you,"
said the Count; "but should you become very unhappy you will think of
me; in the meantime, I am going to leave Rome, for since you and Lord
Nelville are about to quit it, I should be too much bored in your
absence. I shall certainly see you both again, either in Scotland or
Italy; for since I can do nothing better with myself, I have acquired a
taste for travelling. Forgive my having taken the liberty to counsel
you, charming Corinne, and believe me ever devoted to you!"--Corinne
thanked him, and separated with a sentiment of regret. Her acquaintance
with him commenced at the same time as with Oswald, and this remembrance
formed a tie between them which she did not like to see broken. She
conducted herself agreeably to what she had declared to the Count. Some
uneasiness disturbed for a moment the joy with which Lord Nelville had
accepted the project of the journey. He feared that their departure for
Naples might injure Corinne, and wished to obtain her secret before they
went, in order to know with certainty whether some invincible obstacle
to their union might not exist; but she declared to him that she would
not relate her history till they arrived at Naples, and sweetly
deceived him, as to what the public opinion would be on her conduct.
Oswald yielded to the illusion. In a weak and undecided character, love
half deceives, reason half enlightens, and it is the present emotion
that decides which of the two halves shall be the whole. The mind of
Lord Nelville was singularly expansive and penetrating; but he only
formed a correct judgment of himself in reviewing his past conduct. He
never had but a confused idea of his present situation. Susceptible at
once of transport and remorse, of passion and timidity, those contrasts
did not permit him to know himself till the event had decided the combat
that was taking place within him.

When the friends of Corinne, particularly Prince Castel-Forte, were
informed of her project, they felt considerably chagrined. Prince
Castel-Forte was so much pained at it, that he resolved in a short time
to go and join her. There was certainly no vanity in thus filling up the
train of a favoured lover; but he could not support the dreadful void
which he would find in the absence of Corinne. He had no acquaintances
but the circle he met at her house; and he never entered any other. The
company which assembled around her would disperse when she should be no
lon