of conversation, she learned that he had that morning sailed for
Naples. The scene which so lately appeared enchanting to her eyes, now
changed its hue; and in the midst of society, and surrounded by
gaiety, she was solitary and dejected. She accused herself of having
suffered her wishes to mislead her judgment; and the present conduct
of Hippolitus convinced her, that she had mistaken admiration for a
sentiment more tender. She believed, too, that the musician who had
addressed her in his sonnet, was not the Count; and thus at once was
dissolved all the ideal fabric of her happiness. How short a period
often reverses the character of our sentiments, rendering that which
yesterday we despised, to-day desirable. The tranquil state which she
had so lately delighted to quit, she now reflected upon with regret.
She had, however, the consolation of believing that her sentiments
towards the Count were unknown, and the sweet consciousness that her
conduct had been governed by a nice sense of propriety.

The public rejoicings at the castle closed with the week; but the gay
spirit of the marchioness forbade a return to tranquillity; and she
substituted diversions more private, but in splendour scarcely
inferior to the preceding ones. She had observed the behaviour of
Hippolitus on the night of the concert with chagrin, and his
departure with sorrow; yet, disdaining to perpetuate misfortune by
reflection, she sought to lose the sense of disappointment in the
hurry of dissipation. But her efforts to erase him from her
remembrance were ineffectual. Unaccustomed to oppose the bent of her
inclinations, they now maintained unbounded sway; and she found too
late, that in order to have a due command of our passions, it is
necessary to subject them to early obedience. Passion, in its undue
influence, produces weakness as well as injustice. The pain which now
recoiled upon her heart from disappointment, she had not strength of