I have seen
Italy, where all things tell of love; I have seen Switzerland, where
all is cool and fresh, and tells of happiness,--the happiness of
labor; where the verdure, the tranquil waters, the smiling slopes, are
oppressed by the snow-topped Alps; but I have never seen anything that
so depicts the burning barrenness of my life as that little arid plain
down there, dried by the salt sea winds, corroded by the spray, where
a fruitless agriculture tries to struggle against the will of that
great ocean. There, Calyste, you have an image of this Beatrix. Don't
cling to it. I love you, but I will never be yours in any way
whatever, for I have the sense of my inward desolation. Ah! you do not
know how cruel I am to myself in speaking thus to you. No, you shall
never see your idol diminished; she shall never fall from the height
at which you have placed her. I now have a horror of any love which
disregards the world and religion. I shall remain in my present bonds;
I shall be that sandy plain we see before us, without fruit or flowers
or verdure."
"But if you are abandoned?" said Calyste.
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