Oswald discovered a grace in Corinne which was entirely new to him.  One great and terrible circumstance of his life was connected with the remembrance of a very amiable and intelligent French woman; but Corinne resembled her in nothing—­her conversation was a mixture of every kind of intellectual endowment, enthusiasm for the fine arts, and knowledge of the world; refinement of ideas, and depth of sentiment; in short, all the charms of a vivacious and rapid mind were observable in her, without her thoughts ever being on that account incomplete, or her reflections superficial.  Oswald was at once surprised and charmed, uneasy and transported; he was unable to comprehend how one person alone could combine all the qualifications of Corinne.  He asked himself whether the union of all these qualities was the effect of an inconsistent or a superior character; whether it was by the force of universal feeling, or because she forgot every thing successively, that she passed thus, almost in the same instant, from melancholy to gaiety, from profundity to grace—­from conversation the most astonishing, by the knowledge and the ideas it displayed, to the coquetry of a woman who seeks to please, and desires to captivate; but there was, even in that coquetry, such perfect nobleness that it imposed as much respect as the most severe reserve.

The Prince Castel-Forte was very much taken up with Corinne, and the sentiments of all his party were manifested towards her by attention and the most delicate and assiduous respect; and the habitual worship with which they surrounded her, made every day of her life a sort of festival.  Corinne felt herself happy in being thus beloved; but it was that sort of happiness which we feel in living in a mild climate, hearing nothing but harmonious sounds, and receiving, in short, nothing but agreeable impressions.  The serious and profound passion of love was not painted on her countenance, where every emotion of her soul was expressed by a most bright and mobile physiognomy.  Oswald beheld her in silence; his presence animated Corinne, and inspired her with the desire of pleasing.  However, she sometimes checked herself in those moments when her conversation was the most brilliant, astonished at the calm exterior of Oswald, not knowing whether he approved her or blamed her secretly, or whether his English ideas would permit him to applaud this display of talents in a woman.

Oswald was too much captivated by the charms of Corinne, to call to mind his old opinions upon that obscurity which became women; but he was inquiring of himself, whether it were possible to be beloved by her; whether any man could expect to concentrate in himself so many rays of light.  In fact, he was at the same time dazzled and disturbed; and although, at his departure, she invited him, very politely, to come and see her again, he suffered a whole day to pass without availing himself of the invitation, experiencing a sort of terror from the sentiment by which he felt himself impelled.