Where nothing polished dare pollute her path:
To me by day or night she ever smiled
Though I have marked her when none other hath
And sought her more and more, and loved her best in wrath.[206]
He not only finds companionship in nature but at the same time partakes of her infinitude—an infinitude, one should note, of feeling:
I live not in myself, but I become
Portion of that around me; and to me
High mountains are a feeling, but the hum
Of human cities torture.[207]
In his less misanthropic moods the Rousseauist sees in wild nature not only a refuge from society, but also a suitable setting for his companionship with the ideal mate, for what the French term la solitude à deux.