I can look
my misfortune more clearly in the face, and my heart seems relieved as
if after confession.
'Oh, if I could but go to confession!--could implore counsel and help of
my old friend and comforter, Dom Luigi!
'What sustains me most of all in my tribulation, is the thought that in
a short time I shall see him again and be able to pour out all my griefs
and fears to him, show him all my wounds, ask of him a balm for all my
ills, as I used to in the days when his benign and solemn words would
call up tears of tenderness to my eyes, that knew not then the
bitterness of other tears or--more terrible by far--the burning pain of
dry-eyed misery.
'Will he understand me still? Can he fathom the deep anguish of the
woman as he understood the vague and fitful melancholy of the girl?
Shall I ever again see him lean towards me in pity and consolation, that
gentle brow, crowned with silvery locks, illumined with purity and
holiness, and sanctified by the hand of the Lord?
'In the chapel, after mass, I played on the organ music of Bach and of
Cherubini. I played the same prelude as the other evening.
'A soul weeps and moans, weighed down with anguish, weeps and moans and
cries to God, asking His pardon, imploring His aid, with a prayer that
rises to heaven like a tongue of fire. It cries and it is heard--its
prayer is answered; it receives light from above, utters songs of
gladness reaches at length the haven of Peace and Truth and rests in the
Lord----
'The organ is not large nor is the chapel, but, nevertheless, my soul
expanded as in a basilica, soared up as under some vast dome, and
touched the pinnacle of high Heaven where blazes the Sign of Signs in
the azure of Paradise, in the sublime ether.
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