e
that the father of your friend, and your friend himself, are exceptions
from the general rule.' Her voice was very tender, my dear Oswald, when
she said these words." "Are these," replied Oswald, "your proofs of that
interest you spoke of?" "In truth," replied the Count d'Erfeuil, "these
are quite enough, according to my way of thinking, to convince a man
that he is beloved by a lady; but since you wish for better, you shall
have them; I have reserved the strongest for the last. Prince
Castel-Forte arrived, and related your adventure at Ancona, without
knowing that he was speaking of you: he related it with much fire and
imagination, as well as I could judge from the two lessons of Italian I
have taken; but there are so many French words in the foreign languages,
that we comprehend them, almost all, without even knowing them. Besides,
the countenance of Corinne would have explained to me what I did not
understand. One might read in it so visibly the agitation of her heart!
She did not breathe, for fear of losing a single word; and when she
asked if he knew the name of this generous and intrepid Englishman, such
was her anxiety, that it was easy to judge how much she dreaded to hear
pronounced any other name than yours.

"Prince Castel-Forte said he did not know the gentleman's name; and
Corinne, turning quickly towards me, cried, 'Is it not true, Sir, that
it was Lord Nelville?' 'Yes, Madam,' answered I, 'it was he, himself;'
and Corinne then melted in tears. She had not wept during the story;
what was there then more affecting in the name of the hero than in the
recital itself?" "She wept!" cried Nelville, "Ah!--why was I not there?"
Then, checking himself all of a sudden, he cast down his eyes, and his
manly countenance was expressive of the most delicate timidity: he
hastened to resume the conversation, for fear that the Count might
disturb his secret joy by observing it. "If the adventure of Ancona
deserves to be related," said Oswald, "'tis to you, also, my dear Count,
that the honour of it belongs." "It is true," answered d'Erfeuil,
laughing, "that they mentioned an amiable Frenchman, who was along with
you, my lord; but no one save myself paid attention to this parenthesis
in the narration. The lovely Corinne prefers you; she believes you,
without doubt, the more faithful of the two: perhaps she may be
mistaken; you may even cause her more grief than I should; but women are
fond of pain, provided it is a little