See. These women came from mixed motives: for their
health, religious consolation, excitement.

Petrarch states his abhorrence for the overripe, idle and feverish
female intent on confession. He had known her too well, and so not only
did he flee from the "Western Babylon," as he calls Avignon, but often
remained away at times for two whole weeks. Like Richard Le Gallienne,
who has Omar say:

Think not that I have never tried your way
To Heaven, you who pray and fast and pray,
Once I denied myself both love and wine,
Yea, wine and love--for a whole Summer day.

Much of this time Petrarch spent in repenting. He repined because he had
fallen from the proud pedestal where he delighted to view himself, being
both the spectator and the show.

In his twenty-second year he met James Colonna, of the noble and
illustrious Colonna family, and a fine friendship sprang up between
them. The nobleman was evidently a noble man indeed, with a heart and
head to appreciate the genius of Petrarch, and the good commonsense to
treat the poet as an equal.

Petrarch pays James Colonna a great tribute, referring to his
moderation, his industry, his ability to wait on himself, his love for
the out-of-doors. The friends used to take long walks together, and
discuss Cicero and Vergil, seated on grassy banks by the wayside.

"Men must have the friendship of men, and a noble, highminded companion
seems a necessity to prevent too much inward contemplation. It is better
to tell your best to a friend, than to continually revolve it." Look
out, not in--up, not down. Then Petrarch innocently adds, "I vowed I
would not have anything to do with women, nor even in the social
converse, but that my few friends should be sober, worthy and noble men
of gravity."

No man is in such danger from strong drink as the man who has just sworn
off. Petrarch with pious steps went regularly to early mass. By going to
church early in the day he avoided the fashionable throng of females
that attended later. Early in the morning one sees only fat market-women
and fishwives.

On the Sixth of April, Thirteen Hundred Twenty-seven, at six o'clock in
the morning, Petrarch knelt in the Church of Saint Clara at Avignon. The
morning was foggy, and the dim candles that dotted the church gave out
a fitful flare. As Petrarch knelt with bowed head he repeated his vow
that his only companions should be men--men of intellect--and that the
one woman to arrest