he received in answer; they were kind, affectionate, but the
something was wanting. "The best part of beauty is that which no picture
can express." That which the heart most asks is that which no words can
convey. Honesty--patriotism--religion--these have had their hypocrites
for life;--but passion permits only momentary dissemblers.

(1) Rochefoucauld.

CHAPTER XXXV.

GODOLPHIN AT ROME.--THE CURE FOR A MORBID IDEALISM.--HIS EMBARRASSMENT
IN REGARD TO LUCILLA.--THE RENCONTRE WITH AN OLD FRIEND.--THE
COLOSSEUM.--A SURPRISE.

Godolphin arrived at Rome: it was thronged with English. Among them were
some whom he remembered with esteem in England. He had grown a little
weary of his long solitude, and he entered with eagerness into the
society of those who courted him. He was still an object of great
interest to the idle; and as men grow older they become less able to
dispense with attention.

He was pleased to find his own importance, and he tasted the sweets of
companionship with more gust than he had yet done. His talents, buried
in obscurity, and uncalled for by the society of Lucilla, were now
perpetually tempted into action, and stimulated by reward. It had never
before appeared to him so charming a thing to shine; for, before, he had
been sated with even that pleasure. Now, from long relaxation, it had
become new; vanity had recovered its nice perception. He was no longer
so absorbed as he had been by visionary images. He had given his fancy
food in his long solitude, and with its wild co-mate; and being somewhat
disappointed in the result, the living world became to him a fairer
prospect than it had seemed while the world of imagination was untried.
Nothing more confirms the health of the mind than indulging its
favourite infirmity to its own cure. So Goethe, in his memoirs, speaking
of Werther, remarks, that "the composition of that extravagant work
cured his character of extravagance."

Godolphin thought often of Lucilla; but perhaps, if the truth of his
heart were known even to himself, a certain sentiment of pain and
humiliation was associated with the tenderness of his remembrance. With
her he had led a life, romantic, it is true, but somewhat effeminate;
and he thought now, surrounded by the gay and freshening tide of the
world, somewhat mawkish in its romance. He did not experience a desire
to return to the still lake and the gloomy pines;--he felt that Lucilla
did not suffice to make his world. He