“It was the name of my beauty--in fact, of the beauty of the University,
Mademoiselle de Belmont. Her father, a distinguished officer, had
died on the field of battle. She occupied with her mother a large and
handsome house in the street in which I lived, on the same side, and
a few doors distant. This mother, wise and prudent, obliged by
circumstances to inhabit a city filled with young students from all
parts, and having so charming a daughter, never suffered her a
moment from her sight, either in or out of doors. But the good lady
passionately loved company and cards; and to reconcile her tastes
with her duties, she carried Amelia with her to all the assemblies of
dowagers, professors’ wives, canonesses, &c. &c., where the poor girl
_ennuyed_ herself to death with hemming or knitting beside her mother’s
card-table. But you ought to have been informed, that no student,
indeed no man under fifty, was admitted. I had then but little chance
of conveying my sentiments to Amelia. I am sure, however, that any
other than myself would have discovered this chance, but I was a perfect
novice in gallantry; and until the moment when I imbibed this passion
from Amelia’s beautiful dark eyes, mine, having been always fixed upon
Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Chaldaic, &c., understood nothing at all of
the language of the heart. It was at an old lady’s, to whom I was
introduced, that I became acquainted with Amelia; my destiny led me
to her house on the evening of her assembly; she received me--I saw
Mademoiselle de Belmont, and from that instant her image was engraven
in lines of fire on my heart. The mother frowned at the sight of a
well-looking young man: but my timid, grave, and perhaps somewhat
pedantic air, re-assured her. There were a few other young
persons--daughters and nieces of the lady of the mansion; it was
summer--they obtained permission to walk in the garden, under the
windows of the saloon, and the eyes of their mammas. I followed them;
and, without daring to address a word to my fair one, caught each that
fell from her lips.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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