The configuration of the mountains brings about misleading
optical conditions and illusions of perspective; a pine-tree a hundred
feet in height looks to be a mere weed; wide valleys look as narrow as
meadow paths. The lake is the only one where the confidences of heart
and heart can be exchanged. There one can live; there one can
meditate. Nowhere on earth will you find a closer understanding
between the water, the sky, the mountains, and the fields. There is a
balm there for all the agitations of life. The place keeps the secrets
of sorrow to itself, the sorrow that grows less beneath its soothing
influence; and to love, it gives a grave and meditative cast,
deepening passion and purifying it. A kiss there becomes something
great. But beyond all other things it is the lake for memories; it
aids them by lending to them the hues of its own waves; it is a mirror
in which everything is reflected. Only here, with this lovely
landscape all around him, could Raphael endure the burden laid upon
him; here he could remain as a languid dreamer, without a wish of his
own.
He went out upon the lake after the doctor's visit, and was landed
at a lonely point on the pleasant slope where the village of
Saint-Innocent is situated.
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