Besides, why should he have tasked himself to scrutinize the beautiful sites in Spain which formed the appropriate setting of his poetic happiness?  Could he not always find them again through the descriptions of his inspired companion?  As all objects, even the atmosphere itself, become flame-colored when seen through a glass dyed in crimson, so he might contemplate these delicious sites in the glowing hues cast around them by the impassioned genius of the woman he loved.  The nurse of his sick- room—­was she not also a great artist?  Rare and beautiful union!  If to the depths of tenderness and devotion, in which the true and irresistible empire of woman must commence, and deprived of which she is only an enigma without a possible solution, nature should unite the most brilliant gifts of genius,—­the miraculous spectacle of the Greek firs would be renewed,—­the glittering flames would again sport over the abysses of the ocean without being extinguished or submerged in the chilling depths, adding, as the living hues were thrown upon the surging waves, the glowing dyes of the purple fire to the celestial blue of the heaven-reflecting sea!

Has genius ever attained that utter self-abnegation, that sublime humility of heart which gives the power to make those strange sacrifices of the entire Past, of the whole Future; those immolations, as courageous as mysterious; those mystic and utter holocausts of self, not temporary and changing, but monotonous and constant,—­through whose might alone tenderness may justly claim the higher name, devotion?  Has not the force of genius its own exclusive and legitimate exactions, and does not the force of woman consist in the abdication of all exactions?  Can the royal purple and burning flames of genius ever float upon the immaculate azure of woman’s destiny?...

CHAPTER VIII.

Disappointment—­Ill Health—­Visit to England—­Devotion of Friends—­Last Sacraments—­Delphina Potocka—­Louise—­M.  Gutman—­ Death.

From the date of 1840, the health of Chopin, affected by so many changes, visibly declined.  During some years, his most tranquil hours were spent at Nohant, where he seemed to suffer less than elsewhere.  He composed there, with pleasure, bringing with him every year to Paris several new compositions, but every winter caused him an increase of suffering.  Motion became at first difficult, and soon almost impossible to him.  From 1846 to 1847, he scarcely walked at all; he could not ascend the staircase without the most painful sensation of suffocation, and his life was only prolonged through continual care and the greatest precaution.