them religiously in her heart; she was always fearful that in prolonging the conversation upon that subject most interesting to her, she might draw from Oswald a declaration of his future intentions, before a longer acquaintance might render separation impossible.  She often, even designedly, turned his attention towards external objects—­like that Sultana in the Arabian Tales, who sought by a thousand different recitals to awaken the interest of him she loved, in order to postpone the decision of her fate till her charms and her wit had completed their conquest.

FOOTNOTE: 

[17]
     “Viximus insignes inter utramque facem.” 
                                        PROPERTIUS.

Chapter ii.

Not far from the Appian way, Oswald and Corinne visited the Columbarium, where slaves are united with their masters; where are seen in the same tomb, all who lived under the protection of one man or one woman.  The women of Livia, for example, they who, appointed to the care of her beauty, struggled for its preservation against the power of time and disputed with the years some one of her charms, are placed by her side in little urns.  We fancy that we see an assemblage of the obscure dead round one of the illustrious departed, not less silent than his train.  At a little distance from here, is perceived the field where vestals, unfaithful to their vows, were buried alive; a singular instance of fanaticism in a religion naturally tolerant.

“I will not conduct you to the catacombs,” said Corinne to Lord Nelville, “though, by a singular chance, they are under this Appian way; tombs thus having their abode beneath tombs; but this asylum of the persecuted Christians has something so gloomy, and so terrible in it, that I cannot find resolution to return thither.  It does not inspire the same affecting melancholy as more open situations; it is like a dungeon adjoining a sepulchre; the torment of life accompanied with the horrors of death.  Undoubtedly, we feel penetrated with admiration of men who, by the power of enthusiasm alone, have been able to support this subterraneous existence; separating themselves from the sun and from nature; but the mind is so ill at ease in this abode that it is incapable of receiving any improvement.  Man is a part of the creation; he must find his moral harmony in the whole system of the universe, in the usual order of destiny, and certain violent and formidable exceptions may astonish the mind; but they are so terrifying to the imagination that the habitual disposition of the soul cannot benefit by them.  Let us rather,” continued Corinne, “go and see the pyramid of Cestius:  the Protestants who die here are all buried around this pyramid, which affords them a mild, tolerant, and liberal asylum.”  “Yes,” answered Oswald, “it is there that several of my fellow-countrymen have found their last retreat.  Let us go thither; and thus, at least, it may happen that I shall never quit you.”—­Corinne shuddered at these words, and her hand trembled as she supported herself upon the arm of Lord Nelville—­“I am better, much better,” said he, “since I have known you.”—­The countenance of Corinne was lighted up anew with that sweet and tender joy which it was accustomed to express.