I could not conceive why the Count de B- had gone so abruptly out
of the room, any more than I could conceive why he had put the
Shakespeare into his pocket. -
Mysteries which must explain themselves are not worth the loss of
time which a conjecture about them takes up: 'twas better to read
Shakespeare; so taking up "Much Ado About Nothing," I transported
myself instantly from the chair I sat in to Messina in Sicily, and
got so busy with Don Pedro, and Benedict, and Beatrice, that I
thought not of Versailles, the Count, or the passport.
Sweet pliability of man's spirit, that can at once surrender itself
to illusions, which cheat expectation and sorrow of their weary
moments! - Long, - long since had ye number'd out my days, had I not
trod so great a part of them upon this enchanted ground. When my
way is too rough for my feet, or too steep for my strength, I get
off it, to some smooth velvet path, which Fancy has scattered over
with rosebuds of delights; and having taken a few turns in it, come
back strengthened and refresh'd. - When evils press sore upon me,
and there is no retreat from them in this world, then I take a new
course; - I leave it, - and as I have a clearer idea of the Elysian
fields than I have of heaven, I force myself, like AEneas, into
them. - I see him meet the pensive shade of his forsaken Dido, and
wish to recognise it; - I see the injured spirit wave her head, and
turn off silent from the author of her miseries and dishonours; - I
lose the feelings for myself in hers, and in those affections which
were wont to make me mourn for her when I was at school.
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