s spare and
feeble; her brow seemed to bear the marks of that crown of thorns which
is the diadem of resignation. I thought of the cottage. How young she was
six months ago! How cheerful, how free, how careless! What had I done
with all that? It seemed to me that a strange voice repeated an old
romance that I had long since forgotten:

Altra volta gieri biele,
Blanch' e rossa com' un flore,
Ma ora no. Non son piu biele
Consumatis dal' amore.

My sorrow was too great; I sprang to my feet and once more began to walk
the floor. "Yes," I continued, "look at her; think of those who are
consumed by a grief that is not shared with another. The evils you endure
others have suffered, and nothing is singular or peculiar to you. Think
of those who have no mother, no relatives, no friends; of those who seek
and do not find, of those who love in vain, of those who die and are
forgotten."

"Before thee, there on that bed, lies a being that nature, perchance,
formed for thee. From the highest circles of intelligence to the deepest
and most impenetrable mysteries of matter and of form, that soul and that
body are thy affinities; for six months thy mouth has not spoken, thy
heart has not beat, without a responsive word and heart-beat from her;
and that woman, whom God has sent thee as He sends the rose to the field,
is about to glide from thy heart. While rejoicing in each other's
presence, while the angels of eternal love were singing before you, you
were farther apart than two exiles at the two ends of the earth. Look at
her, but be silent. Thou hast still one night to see her, if thy sobs do
not awaken her."

Little by little, my thoughts mounted and became more sombre, until I
recoiled in terror.

"To do evil! Such was the role imposed upon me by Providence. I, to do
evil! I, to whom my conscience, even in the midst of my wildest follies,
said that I was good! I, whom a pitiless destiny was dragging swiftly
toward the abyss and whom a secret horror unceasingly warned of the awful
fate to come! I, who, if I had shed blood with these hands, could yet
repeat that my heart was not guilty; that I was deceived, that it was not
I who did it, but my destiny, my evil genius, some unknown being who
dwelt within me, but who was not born there!

"I do evil! For six months I had been engaged in that task, not a day had
passed that I had not worked at that impious occupation, and I had at
that mome