Your mere presence suffices to
intoxicate me--I feel it flowing into my veins like my life's blood and
filling my soul with rapture beyond all telling."
'_September 27th._--When he gathered the spray of blossom at the
entrance to the wood and offered it to me, did I not, in my heart, call
him--_Life of my life_?
'When, in the avenue, we passed again by the fountain where he first
spoke to me, did I not call him _Life of my life_?
'When he took the wreath from off the Hermes and gave it back to my
child, did he not give me to understand that the woman exalted in these
verses had fallen from her high estate, and that I, I alone, was all his
hope? And once more I called him _Life of my life_.
'_September 28th._--How long I have been in finding peace!
'From that moment onwards, what hours of struggle and travail I have
had, how painfully I have striven to penetrate the real state of my
mind, to see things in their true light, bring a calm and fair judgment
to bear upon what has happened, to recognise and determine upon my duty!
But I continually evaded myself, my mind became confused, my will was
but a broken reed on which to lean, every effort was vain. By a sort of
instinct, I have avoided being alone with him, kept close to Francesca
or my child, or stayed here in my room as in a haven of refuge. When my
eyes did meet his, I seemed to read in them a profound and imploring
sadness.
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