--"Away with the pictures of sin!"

'This Giulia Moceto is, I suppose, some one he was once in love with.
The page once turned, I had a wild, unreasoning desire to look at the
Michael again and examine the face more closely. Was it merely artistic
curiosity?

'I cannot say, I dare not pry into my heart, I prefer to temporise, to
deceive myself; I have not the courage to face the battle, I am a
coward.

'And yet the present is so sweet. My imagination is as excited as if I
had drunk strong tea. I have no desire to go to bed. The night is soft
and warm as if it were August, the sky is cloudless but dimly veiled,
the breathing of the sea comes slow and deep, but the fountains fill up
the pauses. The loggia attracts me--shall we go out and dream a little,
my heart and I?--dream of what?

'The eyes of the Virgins and the Saints pursue me--deep-set, long and
narrow, with meekly downcast lids, from under which they gaze at one
with that charmed look--innocent as the dove, and yet a little side-long
like the serpent. "Be ye harmless as doves and wise as serpents," said
Our Lord--

'Yes, be wise--go, say your prayers, and then, to bed and sleep----

'_September 21st._--Alas, must the heavy task ever painfully begin again
from the beginning, the steep path be climbed, the battle that was won
fought over again!

'_September 22nd._--He has given me one of his poems, _The Story of the
Hermaphrodite_, the twenty-first of the twenty-five copies, printed on
vellum and with two proof engravings of the frontispiece.

'It is a remarkable work, enclosing a mystic and profound idea, although
the musical element predominates, entrancing the soul by the unfamiliar
magic of its melody, which envelopes the thoughts that shine out like a
glister of gold and diamonds through a limpid stream. Certain lines
pursue me incessantly and will continue to do so for long, no
doubt--they are so intense.... Every day and every hour he subjugates me
more and more, mind and soul--against my will, despite my resistance.
His every word and look, his slightest action sinks into my heart.

'_September 23rd._--When we converse with one another, I sometimes feel
as if his voice were an echo of my soul. At times, a sudden wild frenzy
comes over me, a blind desire, an unreasoning impulse to make some
remark, utter some word that would betray my secret weakness. I only
save myself from it by a miracle, and then there falls an interval of
silence, during whi