would not be ashamed of having loved the daughter of Lucrezia
Ferris. But I cannot tell you all. There are reasons why you had
better never know it. But I will tell you this, for I must say it
once. I love you very dearly. I loved you long ago, I loved you
when I left you in Rome, I have loved you ever since, and I am
afraid that I shall love you until I die.
"It is not foolish of me to write the words, though it may be
wrong. If I love you, it is because I know you. We shall meet
before long, and then meet, perhaps, hundreds of times, and more,
for I am to live in Rome. I know that you will be all you should