Louis Lambert — Honoré de Balzac, trans. Katharine Prescott Wormeley

This luxuriant display was a contrast to the solemnity of the antique colonnades of the forests, range upon range on the hillsides, and to the broad sheet of the fiord, in which the torrent drowned its fury at the feet of the three spectators. Beyond it all, the open sea closed im this picture, traced by the greatest of poets—Chance—to which we owe the medley beauty of creation when left, as it would seem, to itself. Jarvis was a speck almost lost in this landscape, in this immensity—sublime, as everything is, which, havingp. 148 but a brief existence, offers a transient image of perfection; for by a law, fatal only to ovr sight, creations that appear perfect, the delight of our heart and of our eyes, have but one spring to live here.

At the top of that cliff these three beings might easily fancy themselves alone in all the world.

‘How exquisite!’’ exclaimed Wilfrid.

‘‘Nature sings its hymns,’’ said Seraphita. ‘‘Is not this music delicious? Confess now, Wilfrid, no woman you ever knew could create for herself so magnificent a retreat. Here I experience a feeling that the sight of great cities rarely inspires, and which makes me long to remain here, lying among these grasses of such rapid growth. Then, with my eyes on the sky, my heart laid bare, lost in the sense of immensity, I could let myself listen to the sighs of the flower, which, scarcely released from its primitive nature, would fain run about; and to the cries of the eider, aggrieved at having only wings, while I thought of: the cravings of man, who has something of everything, and who also is forever full of desires!—But this, Wilfrid, is a woman’s poetic fancy! You can find a voluptuous thought in that hazy expanse of water; in those fantastic veils, behind which nature plays like some coquettish bride; and in this atmosphere, where she perfumes her green hair for her bridal. You would fain see the form of a naiad in that wreath of mist, and I, as you think, ought to hear a manly voice in the torrent.”’

‘‘And is not love in it all, like a bee in a flower?’’ re. plied Wilfrid, who, seeing in her for the first time some trace of earthly feeling, thought it a favorable moment for the expression of his fervent affection.

‘Always the same?’’ said Seraphita, laughing, Minna

Ween

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having left them; the girl was climbing a erag where she had seen some blue saxifrages,

‘“‘Always!’’ exclaimed Wilfrid. ‘‘Listen,’’ he said, with an imperious glance that mét a panoply of adamant, ‘‘you know not who I am, nor what my power is, nor what I demand. Do not reject my last entreaty. Be mine, for the sake of the world within your heart! Be mine, that my conscience may be pure, that a heavenly voice may sound in my ears and inspire me aright in the undertaking I have vowed. to carry out, impelled by my hatred of the nations, but to be achieved for their welfare if only you are with me. What nobler mission may a woman dream of ?—I came to these lands meditating a great scheme.”’

‘‘And you are prepared to sacrifice it and its glories,” said she, ‘‘to a very simple girl, whom you will love, and who will guide you into a peaceful path ?”’