t affirmed, and insanely endeavor to reconcile the two loves.
Would it not be possible, I ask myself, to fly from Pepita, and yet
continue to love her, without ceasing therefore to consecrate myself
with fervor to the love of God? For, as the love of God does not
exclude love of country, love of humanity, love of learning, love of
beauty in nature and in art, neither should it exclude another love, if
it be spiritual and immaculate. I will make of her, I say to myself, a
symbol, an allegory, an image of all that is good, of all that is
beautiful. She shall be to me, as Beatrice was to Dante, the image and
the symbol of country, of knowledge, and of beauty.

This intention suggests to me a horrible fancy, a monstrous thought. In
order to make of Pepita this symbol, this vaporous and ethereal image,
this sign and epitome of all that I can love under God, in God, and
subordinate to God, I picture her to myself dead, as Beatrice was dead
when Dante made her the subject of his song.

If I picture her to myself among the living, then I am unable to convert
her into a pure idea, and if I convert her into a pure idea, I kill her
in my thoughts.

Then I weep; I am filled with horror at my crime, and I draw near to her
in spirit, and with the warmth of my heart I bring her back to life
again; and I behold her, not errant, diaphanous, floating in shadowy
outline among roseate clouds and celestial flowers, as the stern
Ghibelline beheld his beloved in the upper sphere of purgatory, but
coherent, solid, clearly defined in the pure and serene air like the
masterpieces of Greek art, like Galatea already animated by the love of
Pygmalion, and descending--full of fire, exhaling love, rich in youth
and beauty--from her pedestal of marble.

Then I exclaim in the depths of my perturbed heart: "My virtue faints!
My God, do not thou forsake me! Hasten to my help; show thy countenance,
and I shall be saved."

Thus do I recover strength to resist temptation. Thus again does the
hope spring to life within me, that I shall regain my former
tranquillity when I shall have left this place.

The devil longs with ardor to swallow up the pure waters of Jordan, by
which are symbolized the persons who are consecrated to God. Hell
conspires against them, and lets loose all her monsters, upon them. St.
Bonaventure says, "We should not wonder that these persons have sinned,
but rather that they have not sinned."

Notwithstanding, I shall be able to