Though the brilliant flush is thine,
Still I’m doom’d to sigh for thee,
Blest, if thou couldst sigh for me!
See, in yonder flowery braid,
Cull’d for thee, my blushing maid,
How the rose, of orient glow,
Mingles with the lily’s snow;
Mark, how sweet their tints agree,
Just, my girl, like thee and me!
Captain Roumiantzev was telling him about his love adventures in Naples. According to Tolstoi, Roumiantzev was a man with a cheerful disposition, and made life pleasant by his company; yet all he had was the courage of a good soldier—in short, he was a fool. But Tolstoi did not despise him for that reason; on the contrary he always listened to him; and would even sometimes act on his advice. “The world is kept going by fools,” remarked Peter Tolstoi. “Cato, the Roman senator, used to say that fools are more necessary to clever men, than clever men to fools.” Roumiantzev was abusing a certain damsel, Camille, for having already lightened him in one week of more than hundred pieces of gold: