as in a manner the tow which
she threw upon the expiring fire of her fantasy, to make it flash up in
clear and bright flames.

It was only in this way that she loved Carlo, and wept for him, except
that in this case her love had been of a longer duration, because it
was _he_ who gave up and left _her_! That was what made her hatred so
glowing, that was what made her seek the life of the woman for whom
Carlo had deserted her.

"This is a new situation," said she, "which I am called to live through
and to feel. But a poetess must have experienced all feelings, or
she could not describe them. For my part, I do not believe in the
revelations of genius--I believe only in experiences. One can describe
only what one has felt and experienced. Whoever may attempt to describe
the flavor of an orange, must first have tasted it!"

That this attempt to murder Natalie had failed, was to her a matter of
little moment. She had experienced the emotion of it, and just the
same would it have been a matter of indifference to her had the dagger
pierced Natalie's breast--she was sufficiently a child of the South to
consider a murder as only a venial sin, for which the priest could grant
absolution.

There was only one thing which exclusively occupied Corilla, following
and tormenting her day and night, and that was her poetic fame. She
desired that her name should stand high in the world, glorified by all
Europe, and for this purpose she desired above all things to be crowned
as a poetess in the capitol of the holy city; for this fame she would
willingly have given many years of her life.

That was the aim of all her efforts, and how much would she not have
borne, ventured, and suffered for its attainment! How many intrigues
were planned, how much cunning and dissimulation, flattery, and
hypocrisy, had been employed for that purpose, and all, all as yet in
vain!

Therefore it was that Corilla now wept, and with occasional outbreaks of
passionate exclamations violently paced her room. Her cheeks glowed, her
eyes flashed--she was very beautiful in this state of excitement.
That she must have acknowledged to herself as her glance accidentally
encountered her own face in the glass.

With a smile of satisfaction she remained standing before the mirror,
and almost angrily she said:

"Ah, why am I now alone, why does no one see me in my beautiful glow? My
face might now produce some effect, and gain me friends! Why, then, am I
now alone?