The Count held this kind of discourse some time longer without being interrupted by Lord Nelville. He said nothing that was discourteous; but he always wounded the delicate feelings of Oswald by speaking with too much boldness or too much levity upon what interested him. There is a certain tact that even wit and knowledge of the world will not teach; so that, without being wanting in the most perfect politeness, we may often wound the heart.
Lord Nelville was very much agitated the whole day in thinking of the visit he was to make in the evening; but he drove away from him as much as he could the reflections which disturbed him, and endeavoured to persuade himself that he might find pleasure in a sentiment, without permitting it to decide the fate of his life. False security! for the soul receives no pleasure from anything which it deems transient.
Oswald and the Count arrived at Corinne's house, which was situated in the Quartiere di Trastevere, a little beyond the castle of St Angelo.
The view of the Tiber gave an additional embellishment to this house, which was ornamented, internally, with the most perfect elegance. The saloon was decorated with copies, in plaster, of the best statues in Italy—Niobe, Laocoon, Venus de Medicis, and the Dying Gladiator. In the apartment where Corinne received company were instruments of music, books, and furniture not more remarkable for its simplicity than for its convenience, being merely arranged so as to render the conversation easy, and to draw the circle more closely together. Corinne had not yet made her appearance when Oswald arrived; while waiting for her he walked about the apartment with much eager curiosity, remarking in every particular a happy medley of all that is most agreeable in the English, French and Italian nations; the love of literature, the taste for society, and a passion for the fine arts.
Corinne at length appeared; her costume was still picturesque without being over-studied. Her hair was ornamented with antique cameos and she wore a necklace of coral: her politeness was noble and easy: in beholding her in the familiar circle of her friends, you might discover in her the goddess of the Capitol, notwithstanding she was perfectly simple and natural in everything. She first saluted the Count d'Erfeuil, her eyes fixed upon Oswald; and then, as if she repented this piece of falsehood, she advanced towards the latter—and it might be remarked that in addressing him by the title of Lord Nelville, that name seemed to produce a singular effect upon her, and twice she repeated it with a faltering voice, as if it recalled some affecting remembrances.
At length, in the most graceful manner, she thanked Lord Nelville, in Italian, for his obliging behaviour on the preceding day in picking up her crown. Oswald answered by expressing the admiration with which she inspired him, and gently complained of her not speaking to him upon this occasion in English: "Am I more an alien to you to-day," added he, "than I was yesterday?" "No certainly," replied Corinne; "but when people have, like me, for several years, been in the habit of speaking two or three different languages, they are apt to employ that which will best convey the sentiments they wish to express." "Surely," said Oswald, "English is your natural language, that which you speak to your friends, that—" "I am an Italian," interrupted Corinne—"pardon me, my lord, but I think I discover in you that national pride which often characterises your countrymen. In this country we are more modest; we are neither pleased with ourselves like the French, nor proud of ourselves like the English: we only ask a little indulgence of foreigners, and as we have long ceased to be considered a nation, we are guilty of sometimes being wanting, as individuals, in that dignity which is not allowed us as a people. But when you are acquainted with the Italians, you will see that they possess in their character, some traces of ancient greatness, some rare traces which, though now effaced, may appear again in happier times. I will speak English to you sometimes, but not always: Italian is dear to me; for I have endured much," added she, "to reside in Italy."
The Count d'Erfeuil politely reproached Corinne with having entirely forgotten him, by expressing herself in languages he did not understand. "Lovely Corinne," said he to her, "pray talk French; indeed you are worthy of such an accomplishment." Corinne smiled at this compliment, and began to speak French, with great purity and much facility, but with an English accent. Lord Nelville and the Count d'Erfeuil were equally astonished, but the Count, who believed he might say anything, provided it was done with grace, and who imagined that impoliteness consisted in the form, and not the substance, asked directly of Corinne, the reason of this singularity. She was at first a little discomposed at this sudden interrogation; but recovering her presence of mind, she said to the Count—"Apparently, Sir, I have learnt French of an Englishman?" He renewed his questions smilingly, but with much earnestness. Corinne more and more embarrassed, said to him at last, "For these four years past, Sir, since I have settled at Rome, none of my friends, none of those who, I am sure, are most interested on my account have questioned me concerning my destiny; they easily perceived that it was painful to me to speak on the subject."
Those words put an end to the questions of the Count; but Corinne was afraid she had offended him, and as he appeared to be very intimately connected with Lord Nelville, she feared still more, without asking herself the reason of such fear, that he might speak disadvantageously of her to his friend; and therefore she set about taking much pains to please him.
The Prince Castel-Forte arrived at this moment, with several Romans, friends of his and of Corinne. They were men of an amiable mind and lively disposition, very prepossessing in their appearance, and so easily animated by the conversation of others that it was a great pleasure to converse with them, so exquisitely did they appear to feel every thing that was worthy of being felt. The indolence of the Italians prevents them from displaying in company, or often in any way whatever, all the wit they possess. The greater part of them do not even cultivate in retirement, the intellectual faculties that nature has given them; but they enjoy with transport, that which comes to them without trouble.
Corinne possessed a very gay turn of wit; she perceived the ridiculous with the keen sense of a French woman, and coloured it with the imagination of an Italian; but in every instance it was mingled with goodness of heart; nothing was ever seen in her, either premeditated or hostile; for, in every thing, it is coldness that offends—and imagination on the contrary, is always accompanied with good-nature.