Oswald and Corinne arrived at Naples, whilst the eruption of Mount Vesuvius yet lasted.  By day nothing was seen but the black smoke which mixed with the clouds; but viewing it in the evening from the balcony of their abode it excited an entirely unexpected emotion.  A river of fire descends towards the sea, and its burning waves, like the billows of the sea, express the rapid succession of continual and untiring motion.  One would say that when nature transforms herself into various elements she nevertheless preserves some traces of a single and primal thought.  The phenomenon of Vesuvius deeply impresses us.  We are commonly so familiarised with external objects that we hardly perceive their existence; we scarcely ever feel a new emotion in the midst of our prosaic countries, but that astonishment which the universe ought to cause, is suddenly evoked at the aspect of an unknown wonder of creation:  our whole being is shaken by this power of nature, in whose social combinations we have been so long absorbed; we feel that the greatest mysteries in this world do not all consist in man, and that he is threatened or protected by a force independent of himself, in obedience to laws which he cannot penetrate.  Oswald and Corinne proposed to ascend Mount Vesuvius, and the peril of this enterprise gave an additional charm to a project which they were to execute together.

Chapter iii.

There was at that time in the port of Naples, an English man-of-war in which divine service was performed every Sunday.  The captain, and all the English who were at Naples, invited Lord Nelville to come the following day; he consented without thinking at first whether he should take Corinne with him, and how he should present her to his fellow-countrymen.  He was tormented by this disquietude the whole night.  As he was walking with Corinne, on the following morning near the port and was about to advise her not to go on board, they saw an English long-boat rowed by ten sailors, clad in white, and wearing black velvet caps, on which was embroidered silver leopards.  A young officer landed from it, and accosting Corinne by the name of Lady Nelville, begged to have the honour of conducting her to the ship.  At the name of Lady Nelville Corinne was embarrassed—­she blushed and cast down her eyes.  Oswald appeared to hesitate a moment:  then suddenly taking her hand, he said to her in English,—­“Come, my dear,”—­and she followed him.

The noise of the waves and the silence of the sailors, who neither moved nor spoke but in pursuance of their duty, and who rapidly conducted the bark over that sea which they had so often traversed, gave birth to reverie.  Besides, Corinne dared not question Lord Nelville on what had just passed.  She sought to conjecture his purpose, not thinking (which is however the more probable) that he had none, and that he yielded to each new circumstance.  One moment she imagined that he was conducting her to divine