Corinne desired to bid Nevil and Italy such a farewell as might recall the days on which her genius shone with its full splendor. A pardonable weakness. Love and glory were ever blended in her mind; and, at that moment when her heart was about to resign all earthly ties, she wished Oswald to feel, once more, that it was the greatest woman of her day he had destroyed--the woman who best knew how to love and think--whose brilliant success he had obscured in misery and death.
She had no longer the strength required by an improvisatrice; but in solitude, since Oswald's return, had resumed her zest for writing poetry; she therefore named a day for assembling in one of the galleries all who desired to hear her verses, begging Lucy to bring her husband; adding, "I feel I may demand this of you now." Oswald was fearfully agitated, wondering what subject she had chosen, and whether she would recite herself: the bare possibility of looking on her threw him into extreme confusion. The morning came, and winter frowned on it with all the sternness of the north: the wind howled, the rain beat violently against the windows, and by an eccentricity more frequent in Italy than elsewhere, the thunder added a sense of dread to all this gloom. Oswald could not speak: everything around him increased the desolation of his soul. He entered the hall with Lucy: it was immensely crowded. In an obscure recess was placed a sofa, whereon Corinne was to recline, being too ill to read her own verses. Dreading to show herself, changed as she was, she had chosen those means of seeing Oswald unseen. As soon as she knew that he was there, she veiled her face, and was supported to this couch; from time to time staying to take breath, as if that short space had been a painful journey: the last steps of life are ever slow and difficult. Seating herself, her eyes sought Oswald, found him, and involuntarily starting up, she spread her arms; but instantly fell back, turning away her face, like Dido when she met Æneas in a world which human passions should not penetrate. Castel Forte detained Lord Nevil, who now, utterly beside himself, would have flown to fall at her feet: the Prince reminded him of the respect he owed Corinne before the world.[1]