Her looks, her shaking hand, her hollow voice, bespoke one of those awful moments, when destiny overrules us, and we act but as the slaves of that fatality which so long pursued us. Corinne watched the old man, led by his faithful dog, give her letter to a servant of Nevil's, who, by chance, was carrying others into the house. All things conspired to banish her last hope: she made a few steps towards the gate, turning her head to mark the servant's entrance. When she no longer saw him--when she was on the high road, the lights and music lost, a deathlike damp rose to her brow, a chill ran through her frame; she tottered on, but nature refused the task, and she fell senseless by the way. BOOK XVIII. THE SOJOURN AT FLORENCE. CHAPTER I. Count D'Erfeuil, having passed some time in Switzerland, wearied of nature 'mid the Alps, as he had tired of the arts at Rome, and suddenly resolved to visit England. He had heard that he should find much depth of thought there, and woke one morning to the conviction of that being the very thing he wished to meet. This third search after pleasure had succeeded no better than its predecessors, but his regard for Nevil spurred him on; and he assured himself, another morning, that friendship was the greatest bliss on earth; therefore he went to Scotland. Not seeing Oswald at his home, but learning that he was gone to Lady Edgarmond's, the Count leaped on his horse to follow; so much did he believe that he longed to meet him. As he rode quickly on, he saw a female extended motionless upon the road, and instantly dismounted to assist her. What was his horror at recognizing, through their mortal paleness, the features of Corinne! With the liveliest sympathy he helped his servant to arrange some branches as a litter, intending to convey her to Lady Edgarmond's, when Thérésina, who till now had remained in her mistress's carriage, alarmed at her absence, came to the spot, and, certain that no one but Lord Nevil could have reduced her lady to this stats, begged that she might be borne to the neighboring town. The Count followed her; and for eight days, during which she suffered all the delirium of fever, he never left her. Thus it was the frivolous man who proved faithful, while the man of sentiment was breaking her heart. This contrast struck Corinne, when she recovered her senses, and she thanked d'Erfeuil with great feeling: he replied by striving to console her, more capable of noble actions than of serious conversation. Corinne found him useful, but could not make him her friend. She strove to recall her reason, and think over what had passed; but it was long ere she could remember all she had done, and from what motive. Then, perhaps, she thought her sacrifice too great; and hoped, at least, to bid Lord Nevil a last adieu, ere she left England; but the day after she regained her faculties chance threw a newspaper in her way, which contained the following paragraph:----