must be grateful. They say she loves
diamonds. I shall therefore send her these diamonds which her _eleve_
Joseph Ribas last night made the property of the Russian crown. And with
them I will send a little billet, written with my own hand. Who
knows but that this will give her more pleasure than the sparkling
brilliants!"

In that, however, the handsome Count Orloff was mistaken. The poetess
Corilla therein resembled to a hair the prima-donnas and heroines of the
stage of the present day. She attached a great value to diamonds, and
knowing that Russia was very rich in gold and diamonds, she always had
an especially bewitching smile for Russian grandees. Had Count Orloff
come in person to bring the diamonds, she would undoubtedly have more
admired him, apparently been more pleased with his presence than with
his costly gift; but, as he was not there, there was no necessity for
dissimulation.

She read Count Orloff's billet with a satisfied smile; but soon laid it
aside for the delight of examining the jewels.

"How that shines, and how that sparkles," said the exhilarated poetess;
"not even a lover's eyes flash so brightly, nor is his smile so proud,
so full of rich certainty, as the sparkling of these gems! They are
enchanters, and a word from me can change these _solitaires_ and
rosettes into a beautiful villa, or into a fragrant park with silent
arbors, intoxicating odors, and sweetly-singing birds. All that is
promised me by these stones--a lover's promises do not express half so
much. And only to think that it is Carlo, my former lover, to whom I
am indebted for these diamonds! From love to him I wished to destroy
Natalie, and that wish procured me the favor of the Russian count, and
consequently these brilliants. Poor Carlo! these diamonds outlast you.
How bright and beautiful were your glances that are now extinguished by
death--but this cruel, inexorable death has no power over diamonds!
It cannot strangle these as thou wert strangled, poor Carlo! I shall
remember thee this evening, Carlo, and hope the thought of thee may
inspire me for a right beautiful improvisation on death! I shall take
pains to bring to mind thy beautiful form overflowed with blood. Yes,
it will inspire in me a very effective improvisation, and I will at the
same time make a selection from my dear poets of some striking rhymes
upon death and the grave. And when I have the rhymes, the thoughts and
words will come of themselves. Rhymes, rhy