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unknown be a truly worthy character, deserving that I should venture
something, if only to relieve the horrors of his solitude? Coward
as I am, standing on the brink of death, the fatal decree ready to
strike me at any moment, yet to refuse to perform a simple act of
love! Reply to him I must and will. Grant that it be discovered,
no one can fairly be accused of writing the letter, though poor
Tremerello would assuredly meet with the severest chastisement. Is
not this consideration of itself sufficient to decide me against
undertaking any clandestine correspondence? Is it not my absolute
duty to decline it?
CHAPTER XXXV.
I was agitated the whole evening; I never closed my eyes that night,
and amidst so many conflicting doubts, I knew not on what to
resolve.
I sprung from my bed before dawn, I mounted upon the window-place,
and offered up my prayers. In trying circumstances it is necessary
to appeal with confidence to God, to heed his inspirations, and to
adhere to them.
This I did, and after long prayer, I went down, shook off the gnats,
took the bitten gloves in my hands, and came to the determination to
explain my apprehensions to Tremerello and warn him of the great
danger to which he himself was exposed by bearing letters; to
renounce the plan if he wavered, and to accept it if its terrors did
not deter him. I walked about till I heard the words of the song:-
Segnai mi gera un gato, E ti me carezzevi. It was Tremerello
bringing me my coffee. I acquainted him with my scruples and spared
nothing to excite his fears. I found him staunch in his desire to
SERVE, as he said, TWO SUCH COMPLETE GENTLEMEN. This was strangely
at variance with the sheep's face he wore, and the name we had just
given him. {15} Well, I was as firm on my part.
"I shall leave you my wine," said I, "see to find me the paper; I
want to carry on this correspondence; and, rely on it, if any one
comes without the warning song, I shall make an end of every
suspicious article."
"Here is a sheet of paper ready for you; I will give you more
whenever you please, and am perfectly satisfied of your prudence."
I longed to take my coffee; Tremerello left me, and I sat down to
write. Did I do right? was the motive really approved by God? Was
it not rather the triumph of my natural courage, of my preference of
that which pleased me, instead of obeying the call for painful
sacrifices. Mingled with this was a proud complacency, in return
for the esteem expressed towards me by the unknown, and a fear of
appearing cowardly, if I were to adhere to silence and decline a
correspondence, every way so fraught with peril. How was I to
resolve these doubts? I explained them frankly to my fellow-
prisoner in replying to him, stating it nevertheless, as my opinion,
that if anything were undertaken from good motives, and without the
least repugnance of conscience, there could be no fear of blame.
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