“It is not from sincerity that this kind of frankness proceeds,” replied Oswald, “but from indifference to public opinion.  When I arrived here, I had a letter of recommendation to a princess, which I gave to my Italian servant to deliver; he said to me, ’Sir, it will be of no use to deliver this letter now, for the princess sees nobody; she is INAMORATA;’ and this state of being in love, is announced with as much indifference as any other situation incidental to our existence.  This publicity cannot be palliated by the plea of extraordinary vehemence of passion; several attachments of this sort succeed each other, and are of equal notoriety.  So little are women given to mystery in this respect, that they avow their connections with less embarrassment than those of our country would feel in speaking of their husbands.  It is easy to believe that no profound or delicate sentiment is mixed with this sensibility of passion, divested of modesty.  Hence it happens that in this nation, where nothing is thought of but love, there is not a single romance; because love is here so rapid and so public that it affords no interesting developments; and to give a true picture of general manners in this respect, it would be necessary to begin and terminate it in the first page.  Pardon me, Corinne,” cried Lord Nelville, observing the pain that he gave her; “you are an Italian, and that thought ought to disarm me; but one of the causes of that incomparable grace which distinguishes you, is the union of all the characteristic charms of different nations.  I know not in what country you have been brought up; but it appears to me certain, that you have not passed your whole life in Italy—­perhaps in England itself—­Ah, Corinne! if that were so, how could you have quitted that sanctuary of modesty and delicacy, for these regions, where not only virtue, but love itself, is so badly understood?  It is breathed in the air; but does it penetrate the heart?  Your poetry, in which love performs so principal a part, possesses considerable grace, and much imagination; it is ornamented with brilliant pictures, whose colours are lively and voluptuous.  But where will you find that tender, melancholy sentiment, which animates our poetry?  What have you that can be put in comparison with the scene between Belvidera and her husband, in OTWAY; or with that in SHAKESPEARE, between Romeo and Juliet?  But above all, what have you to compare with those admirable lines of THOMSON, in his ‘Spring,’ where he paints in such noble and affecting traits, the happiness of love, when sanctioned by marriage?  Have you any such marriage in Italy?  And can love exist where there is no domestic felicity?  Is it not this happiness which the heart seeks, as possession is the object of sensual passion?  Do not all young and beautiful women resemble each other, unless the qualities of the mind and soul determine a preference?  And what desire is excited by all these qualities?  Marriage.  That is to say, the association of every thought, and of every sentiment.  Illicit love, when unfortunately it exists amongst us, is, if it may be so expressed, only a reflection of marriage.  In such connections, that happiness is sought for, which the wanderer cannot find at home; and infidelity itself is more moral in England than marriage in Italy.”