Corinne, whose senses still wandered, shrieked: "Great God! what say you? Would you leave me!"--"No, no, I swear!" he cried. At that instant a crowd of admiring friends broke in upon them; she anxiously desired to hear what he had meant to say, but they were not left alone together for an instant, and could not speak to each other again that evening. Never had any drama produced such an effect in Italy. The Romans extolled the piece, the translation, and the actress; asserting that this was the tragedy which represented them to the life, and gave an added value to their language, by eloquence at once inspired and natural. Corinne received all these eulogiums with gracious sweetness; but her soul hung on these brief words: "I swear!" believing that they contained the secret of her destiny. [1] Corinne's translation deviated widely from the original. Minor points I have presumed to reconcile, but this I must leave as I find, though the two parting scenes in Romeo and Juliet are so dissimilar, that it is difficult to guess how they could become confused in such a mind as Madame de Staël's; or why she should have omitted all mention of Tybalt's death, and Romeo's banishment.--TR. BOOK VIII. THE STATUES AND PICTURES. CHAPTER I. After such an evening, Oswald could not close his eyes all night. He had never been so near sacrificing everything to Corinne. He wished not even to learn her secret, until he had solemnly consecrated his life to her service; all indecision seemed banished, as he mentally composed the letter which he intended to write the next morning; but this resolved and happy confidence was not of long duration. His thoughts again strayed towards the past, reminding him that he had loved before; and though far less than he adored Corinne, nay, an object not to be compared with her, he had then been hurried into rashness that broke his father's heart. "How know I," he cried, "that he does not once more fear his son may forget his duty to his native land? Oh thou, the best friend I can ever call mine own!" he continued to the miniature of his parent, "I can no longer hear thy voice, yet teach me by that silent look, still--still so powerful over me, how I should act, that thou mayest gaze from heaven with some satisfaction on thy son. Yet, yet remember the thirst for happiness which consumes humanity; be but as indulgent in thy celestial home, as late thou wert on earth. I should become more worthy of thee, were my heart content; did I live with that angelic creature, had I the honor of protecting--saving such a woman! Save her?" he added, suddenly, "and from what? from the life she loves; a life of triumph, flattery, and freedom?" This reflection of his own scared him as if it had been spoken by the spirit of his sire. In situations like Oswald's, who has not felt that secret superstition which makes us regard our thoughts and sufferings as warnings from on