She cast her eyes, as it were, upon the
strangely devious way--like the tortuous rocky path before her--over
which her love for Calyste had led her. Ah! Calyste was indeed a
messenger from heaven, her divine conductor! She had stifled earthly
love, and a divine love had come from it.
After walking for some distance in silence, Calyste could not refrain,
on a remark of Beatrix about the grandeur of the ocean, so unlike the
smiling beauty of the Mediterranean, from comparing in depth, purity,
extent, unchanging and eternal duration, that ocean with his love.
"It is met by a rock!" said Beatrix, laughing.
"When you speak thus," he answered, with a sublime look, "I hear you,
I see you, and I can summon to my aid the patience of the angels; but
when I am alone, you would pity me if you could see me then. My mother
weeps for my suffering."
"Listen to me, Calyste; we must put an end to all this," said the
marquise, gazing down upon the sandy road. "Perhaps we have now
reached the only propitious place to say these things, for never in my
life did I see nature more in keeping with my thoughts.
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