Corinne, Volume 1 (of 2)
Page 12
Chapter ii.
The Count d'Erfeuil came in the morning, according to custom, to seeLord Nelville, and reproaching him for not having been to see Corinnethe day before, said, "Had you come, you would have been very happy.""Why so?" replied Oswald. "Because yesterday I discovered, to acertainty, that you have greatly interested her." "Still this levity,"interrupted Lord Nelville; "know that I neither can nor will endure it.""Do you call levity," said the Count, "the promptitude of myobservation? Am I less in the right, because more quickly so? You weremade to live in the happy time of the Patriarchs, when the age of manwas five centuries; but mind, I give you notice that four of them atleast are lopped off in our days." "Be it so," answered Oswald, "andwhat discovery have you made by these rapid observations?"--"ThatCorinne loves you. Yesterday, when I arrived at her house, she receivedme very kindly, to be sure; but her eyes were fixed on the door, to seewhether you followed me. She tried for a moment to talk of somethingelse; but as she is a lady of a very ingenuous and natural disposition,she asked me, quite frankly, why you had not come with me? I blamed youvery much; I said that you were a very odd, gloomy sort of creature; butyou will excuse my relating all that I said over and above in yourpraise."
"'He is very sad,' said Corinne; 'he must certainly have lost some onevery dear to him. Whom is he in mourning for?' 'His father, Madam,' saidI; 'though it is more than a year since he lost him; and as the law ofnature obliges us all to survive our parents, I imagine there is someother secret cause for so long and deep a melancholy.' 'Oh!' repliedCorinne, 'I am very far from thinking that griefs, similar inappearance, are felt alike by all men. I am very much tempted to believethat the father of your friend, and your friend himself, are exceptionsfrom the general rule.' Her voice was very tender, my dear Oswald, whenshe said these words." "Are these," replied Oswald, "your proofs of thatinterest you spoke of?" "In truth," replied the Count d'Erfeuil, "theseare quite enough, according to my way of thinking, to convince a manthat he is beloved by a lady; but since you wish for better, you shallhave them; I have reserved the strongest for the last. PrinceCastel-Forte arrived, and related your adventure at Ancona, withoutknowing that he was speaking of you: he related it with much fire andimagination, as well as I could judge from the two lessons of Italian Ihave taken; but there are so many French words in the foreign languages,that we comprehend them, almost all, without even knowing them. Besides,the countenance of Corinne would have explained to me what I did notunderstand. One might read in it so visibly the agitation of her heart!She did not breathe, for fear of losing a single word; and when sheasked if he knew the name of this generous and intrepid Englishman, suchwas her anxiety, that it was easy to judge how much she dreaded to hearpronounced any other name than yours.
"Prince Castel-Forte said he did not know the gentleman's name; andCorinne, turning quickly towards me, cried, 'Is it not true, Sir, thatit was Lord Nelville?' 'Yes, Madam,' answered I, 'it was he, himself;'and Corinne then melted in tears. She had not wept during the story;what was there then more affecting in the name of the hero than in therecital itself?" "She wept!" cried Nelville, "Ah!--why was I not there?"Then, checking himself all of a sudden, he cast down his eyes, and hismanly countenance was expressive of the most delicate timidity: hehastened to resume the conversation, for fear that the Count mightdisturb his secret joy by observing it. "If the adventure of Anconadeserves to be related," said Oswald, "'tis to you, also, my dear Count,that the honour of it belongs." "It is true," answered d'Erfeuil,laughing, "that they mentioned an amiable Frenchman, who was along withyou, my lord; but no one save myself paid attention to this parenthesisin the narration. The lovely Corinne prefers you; she believes you,without doubt, the more faithful of the two: perhaps she may bemistaken; you may even cause her more grief than I should; but women arefond of pain, provided it is a little romantic; so you will suit her."
Lord Nelville suffered from every word of the Count, but what could hesay to him? He never argued; he never listened attentively enough tochange his opinion; his words, once uttered, gave him no fartherconcern, and the best way was to forget them, if possible, as soon as hehimself did.