ROME, CASA OSORIA, 18 May.

It was evidently solitude I wanted.  I feel as I felt after my arrival at Peli, sad, but at the same time peaceful.  I feel even more peaceful here than in my first days at Peli, because there is none of that uneasiness Laura’s presence used to give me.  I walk about the still, gloomy house, and find thousands of details that remind me of my father, and the memory grows fresh again in my heart.  He too had vanished into the distant haze, and now I meet him again as in his former, real life.  There on the table in his studio are the lenses through which he looked at his specimens, the bronze implement he used in scraping the dry soil from the pottery; colors, brushes, manuscripts, and notes about the collections are lying about.  At times I have a feeling as if he had gone out and would return presently to his work, and when the illusion disappears a great sorrow seizes me, and I love not only his memory, but love him who sleeps the eternal sleep on the Campo Santo.

And I feel sad; but the feeling is so infinitely purer than those which had such absolute sway over my mind those last weeks that I feel more at ease,—­a better man, or, at least, not so corrupt as I had seemed to myself.  I notice also that no reasoning, nor the most desperate argumentation can deprive us of a certain feeling of satisfaction, when we come in contact with nobler elements.  Whence comes that irresistible, irrepressible tendency towards the good?  Spinning out this thread I go very far.  Since our reason is considered a reflection of the logical principle of all life, may not our conception of good be a similar reflection from an absolute good.  Were it so, one might throw at once all doubts to the wind, and shout, not only, “Eureka!” but also, “Alleluia!” Nevertheless, I am afraid lest the foundation fall to pieces, like many others, and I dare not build on it.  Besides the reasoning is but vague; I shall go back to it undoubtedly, because this means the extraction of a thorn, not from the feet, but from the soul.  Now I am too tired, too sad and restful at the same time.

It seems to me that of all creatures upon earth it is only the human being that can act sometimes against his volition.  I wanted to leave Peli for some time, and yet day after day passed, and I remained.  The day previous to my departure I was almost certain I should stop, when unexpectedly Laura herself helped me to a decision.

I told her about the lawyer’s letter and my going away, only to see how she would receive the news.  We were alone.  I expected some exclamation from her part, some emotion, and lastly a “veto.”  Nothing of the kind took place.

Hearing the news, she turned to me, passing her hand gently over my hair; she brought her face close to mine, and said:—­

“You will come back, will you not?”