n
anything, but, on the contrary, searching courageously in the depths of
our own conscience for the purpose of discovering all our faults and
sins, and thus acquiring a devout humility and contempt of self, the
heart will feel itself full of human affection, and, instead of
despising, will value highly the worth of things and of persons, so that
if afterward divine love should, with irresistible power, erect itself
upon and tower above this foundation, there can then be no fear but that
such a love has its origin, not in an exaggerated self-esteem, in pride,
or in an unjust contempt for our neighbor, but in a pure and holy
contemplation of the Infinite Beauty and Goodness.

If, as I suspect, it be Pepita Ximenez who has consulted the reverend
vicar in regard to these doubts and tribulations, I think my father can
not yet flatter himself with being very dear to her; but, if the vicar
should resolve on giving her my advice, and she accepts it and acts upon
it, then she will either become a sort of Maria de Agreda, a
self-conscious recluse, or, what is more probable, she will cast away
mysticism and coldness altogether, and will consent to accept, without
further caviling, the hand and heart of my father who is in no respect
her inferior.

_April 4th._

My life in this place begins, from its monotony, to be wearisome; and
not because it is, physically, less active here than it was elsewhere,
for I walk and ride a great deal, and make excursions into the country,
and, to please my father, visit the club-house and go to parties, and
live, in short, in a state of dissatisfaction with myself and with my
surroundings. But my intellectual life is a blank; I read nothing, and
there is hardly a moment left me in which to reflect and meditate with
tranquillity; and, as reflection and meditation were what constituted
the chief charm of my existence, my life without them seems to me
monotonous. Thanks to the patience which you have recommended to me for
every occasion, I am able to endure it.

Another thing that prevents my spirit from being completely at rest is
the longing, that becomes every day more ardent within me, to embrace
that life to which, without a moment's vacillation, I have been for
years inclined. It seems to me that, in those moments when I feel
myself so near to the realization of the constant dream of my life, it
is something like a profanation to allow my mind to be distracted by
other objects. So much does