Till then, Oswald had been influenced by resentment at what had taken place in the garden; but on beholding this picture, the tomb of his father and the mountains of Scotland appeared to his mind, and his eyes were filled with tears. Corinne took her harp, and before this picture, began to sing one of those Scotch ballads whose simple notes seem to accompany the noise of the wind, mournfully complaining through the valleys. She sang the farewell of a warrior quitting his native land and his mistress; and the word, no more, one of the most harmonious and touching in the English language, was pronounced by Corinne with the most moving expression. Oswald sought not to resist his emotion, and both yielded without restraint to their tears.—"Ah!" cried Lord Nelville, "does my native country speak no language to thy heart? Wouldst thou follow me into those retreats, peopled by my recollections? Wouldst thou be the worthy companion of my life, as thou art its sole charm and delight?"—"I believe so," replied Corinne—"I believe so; for I love thee!"—"In the name of love then, no longer conceal anything from me," said Oswald.—"I consent," interrupted Corinne; "since it is thy wish. My promise is given; I only make one condition, which is, that thou wilt not exact it of me before the approaching epoch of our religious ceremonies. Will not the support of heaven be more than ever necessary to me at the moment when my fate is about to be decided?"—"No more," cried Lord Nelville, "if that fate depend upon me, it is no longer doubtful."—"Thou thinkest so," replied she; "I have not the same confidence; but, in a word, I intreat thee show that condescension to my weakness which I request."—Oswald sighed, without either granting or refusing the delay required.—"Let us now return to town," said Corinne. "How can I conceal anything from thee in this solitude? And if what I have to relate must divide us, ought I so soon—Let us go, Oswald—thou wilt return hither again, happen what may: my ashes will find rest here." Oswald, much affected, obeyed Corinne. He returned to the city with her, and scarcely a word passed between them upon the road. From time to time they looked at each other with an affection that said everything; but nevertheless, a sentiment of melancholy reigned in the depths of their souls when they arrived in the midst of Rome.
FOOTNOTE:
[27] The historical pictures which compose the gallery of Corinne, are either from copies or originals of the Brutus of David, the Maurius of Drouet, and the Belisarius of Gerard; among the other pictures mentioned, that of Dido was done by M. Rehberg, a German painter; that of Clorinda, is in the gallery of Florence; that of Macbeth, is in an English collection of pictures from Shakespeare; and that of Phèdre, is by Guérin; lastly, the two landscapes of Cincinnatus and Ossian, are at Rome, and were done by Mr Wallis, an English painter.
Book ix.
THE POPULAR FESTIVAL, AND MUSIC.
Chapter i.
It was the last day of carnival, which is the most noisy festival of the year, when a fever of joy, a mania of amusement, unparalleled in any other country, seized the Roman people. Everybody is disguised; hardly does there remain at the windows, an unmasked spectator: the scene of gaiety commences at a given hour on a certain day, and scarcely ever does any public or private event of the year hinder any person from joining the sports of the season.