Italians, indeed must be judged according to circumstances. Sometimes the evil that has been spoken of them seems but true; at others, most unjust. All that has previously been described of their governments and religion proves that much may be asserted against them generally, yet that many private virtues are to be found amongst them. The individuals chance throws on the acquaintance of our travellers decide their notions of the whole race; such judgment, of course, can find no basis in the public spirit of the country. Oswald and Lucy visited the collections of pictures that enrich Bologna. Among them was Domenichino's Sibyl; before which Nevil unconsciously lingered so long, that his wife at last dared ask him, if this beauty said more to his heart than Correggio's Madonna had done. He understood, and was amazed at so significant an appeal: after gazing on her for some time, he replied, "The Sibyl utters oracles no more: her beauty, like her genius, is gone; but the angelic features I admired in Correggio have lost none of their charms; and the unhappy wretch who so much wronged the one will never betray the other." He left the place, to conceal his agitation. [1] It was announced at Bologna that a solar eclipse would take place one day at two. The people flocked to see it; and, impatient at its delay, called on it to begin, as if it were an actor, who kept them waiting. At last it commenced; but, as the cloudy weather prevented its producing any great effect, they set up the most violent _hissings_, angry that the spectacle fell so far short of their expectations. BOOK XX. CONCLUSION. CHAPTER I. Oswald now, for the first time, comprehended that Lucy was aware of his affection for her sister, and deemed that her coolness might have sprung from secret disquietude: yet now he feared an explanation as much as she had done; and now she would have told him all, had he required it; but it would have cost him too much to speak of Corinne, just as he was about to rejoin her, especially with a person whose character he so imperfectly knew. They crossed the Apennines, and regained the sweet climate of Italy. The sea-breeze, so glowing in summer, now spread a gentle heat. The turf was green, the autumn hardly over, and yet the spring already peeping forth. The markets teemed with oranges and pomegranates. The Tuscan tongue was audible; and all Oswald's dearest memories revived, though now unmixed with hope. The mild air would have rendered Lucy confiding, had he encouraged her. Had a Corinne been with them, she would soon have learned their secrets; but the more congenial they were, in natural and national reserve, the less easy was it for them to break the ice which kept their hearts asunder. CHAPTER II.