where he had heard that Corinne was dwelling,
his heart became terribly agitated. He had learnt, through his old
friend d'Erfeuil, that Corinne had been faithful to him, that she had
followed him to England, and sought to see him, that he and not she was
the betrayer.

On arriving at Florence, Oswald met Prince Castel Forte, whose faithful,
unrewarded homage to Corinne was still unchanged. Corinne, the Prince
told him, was ill and growing weaker every day. Oswald's desertion, he
said plainly, had mortally wounded her.

Oswald, dismally repentant, handed Castel Forte a letter to Corinne in
which he begged permission to see her. In answer she declined the
permission, but asked to see his wife and child.

The little girl was taken to her; Lucy had resolved not to go, but was
struck with fear lest the child's affection should be won away from her.
She went at length, determined to reproach Corinne, but all her anger
vanished at the sight of the wasted woman on the sickbed. The sisters
embraced in tears.

Castel Forte had told Corinne of the reserve and coldness that separated
Lucy from her husband. Her last wish was to reconcile them, and thus aid
by means of another, the happiness of the man she loved.

"Pride not yourself in your perfections, dear sister," she said; "let
your charm consist in seeming to forget them; be Corinne and Lucy in
one; let not grace be injured by self-respect."

Lucy bore her words in mind; the barriers between herself and her
husband were gradually removed, and Oswald guessed who was removing
them.

At last the end came. Corinne lay on a sofa, where she could gaze upon
the sky. Castel Forte held her dying hand. Lucy entered; behind her came
Oswald. He fell at her feet. She would have spoken, but her voice
failed. She looked up--the moon was covered by just such a cloud as they
had seen at Naples. Corinne pointed to it--one sigh--and her hand sank
powerless in death.

* * * * *

STENDHAL (HENRI BEYLE)

The Chartreuse of Parma

Stendhal is the best-known pseudonym (for there were others)
of the refined, somewhat eccentric, and still distinguished
French author whose real name was C. Marie Henri Beyle. Born
at Grenoble on January 23, 1783, he found his way as a youth
to Milan, and fought with Bonaparte at Marengo. Afterwards he
followed various occupations at Paris and Marseilles; went
through the Russian cam