"The first years of my life were peaceable and happy. I loved old Frantz as a father, and he took the most tender care of me, only reproaching me for forsaking athletic exercises, and only leaving my study for occasional walks in our lovely mountains. I had none of the tastes of my age, but was serious, taciturn, melancholy. Music caused in me the most ecstatic delight, to which I gave myself up unreservedly. At eighteen years of age I went with my old servant a journey to Italy. For two years I studied the _chefs-d'œuvre_ of the great masters in the different cities where we stayed, seeing very few persons, and being perfectly happy in my indolent, dreaming, contemplative life. I arrived at Venice. My admiration for the arts had, until then, occupied my whole existence; the passionate love with which they inspired me sufficed to occupy my heart. At Venice chance threw me in the society of a female, whose influence was destined to be so baneful to me. This woman, whom I married, was named Paula Monti." "Was she handsome?" asked Bertha. "Exceedingly!--but of a serious style of beauty. Strange contrast! I have always been weak and timid, and yet became enamoured of a woman of energetic and masculine character. It was my first love. I, unquestionably, obeyed rather an instinct, a desire to love something, than a deeply-seated feeling, and I became passionately enamoured of Paula Monti. She received my attentions with indifference, but I was not repulsed. She seemed to me unhappy. I had some hope. I redoubled my assiduities, and formally demanded her hand in marriage from her aunt. I was then rich, the match appeared eligible to her, and she consented. I had with Paula a decisive interview. I will confess that she told me she had ardently loved a man who was to have been her husband; and although this man was dead, his remembrance still remained so constant and so cherished in her thought that it absorbed her quite entirely, and that my love was indifferent to her. This confession wounded me deeply, yet I saw in Paula's frankness but a guarantee for the future, and I did not despair of overcoming the coldness she testified by my cares and attention. She did not conceal from me, that but for the unceasing influence of the past, which she so bitterly deplored, she might, perhaps, have loved me. "Then I cradled myself in the most visionary hopes--my passion was real--Paula Monti was touched by it; but her delicacy then took alarm at the disproportion of our fortunes. "The loss of a lawsuit had completely ruined her family. I overcame her scruples--she promised me her hand, but repeating that she could not offer me more than a perfectly sisterly affection.