ed friend to
him; there was no one but him to help her.

As she knelt by the pillar she went over the past weeks of her life in a
concentrated self-examination of which she would never have believed
herself capable.

"I am a grown woman," she said to herself, "and I have a right to think
what grown women think. I know perfectly well which thoughts are good
and which are bad, just as I know right from wrong in other ways. It was
wrong to put myself into that dream state, because I wanted him to come
to me. Yes, I confess it, I wanted him to come and kiss me that once, in
the vision every night. It would not have been wrong if I had not said
that I would marry Guido, but that made the difference. Therefore I gave
it up. I will not do anything wrong with my eyes open. I will not. I
would not, if I did not believe in God, because the thing would be wrong
just the same. Religion makes it more wrong, that is all. If I were not
engaged to Guido, and if I loved the other instead, then I should have a
right to wish and dream that the other kissed me."

She thought some time about this point, and there was something that
disturbed her, in spite of her reasoning.

"It would have been unmaidenly," she decided, at last. "I should be
ashamed to tell my mother that I had done it. But it would not have been
wrong, distinctly not. It would be wrong and abominable to think of two
men in that way.

"That is what is happening now, against my will. I go to sleep saying my
prayers, and yet he comes to me in my dreams, and looks at me, and I
cannot help letting him kiss me, and it is only afterwards that I feel
how revolting it was. And in the daytime I am engaged to Guido, and I
cannot help knowing that when we are married he will want to kiss me
like that. It was different before, since I was able to give up seeing
the marble court and being the Vestal, and did give it up. This is
another thing, and it is bad, but it is not a wrong thing I am doing.
Therefore it is something outside of my soul that is trying to do me
harm, and may succeed in the end. It is a power of evil. How can I fight
against it, since it comes when I am asleep and have no will? What ought
I to do?

"I am afraid to meet Signor Lamberti now, much more afraid than I was a
week ago, before this other trouble began. But when I am dreaming, I am
not afraid of him. I do what he makes me do without any resistance, and
I am glad to do it. I want to be his slave, then. He