"Dear Lucia, no more than you have the power to change day into night for me or night into day, no more can you make me call the light that I see darkness or deter me from following it. I can only leave you this choice: do you wish me to deceive you, or would you have me be upright? In the latter case you must control yourself, for the more I see you suffer, the stronger grows the temptation not to be upright toward you."
It was even more the tone in which I uttered them than perhaps my words that made her realize that she had nothing more to hope for.
She got up and dried her tears. Then recovering herself, she said:
"I see, Vico, that a Satanic charm has been cast upon you. Of course I desire your uprightness. I shall endeavor to bear everything and to make the best of it and I shall pray for you."
"Thank you, Lucia," said I, rising.
But she came and stood in front of me.
"Yes, but . . . what now?"
"What do you mean?" I asked, not entering sufficiently into her thought-life.
"You now put me into a position which I have known only from hearsay and never thought myself to experience. Thousands of women live in this position, that I know. But you will surely have so much consideration for me, that you will spare me as much as possible. That after all I may duly claim from you."
"Of course, Lucia, I shall spare you as much as possible."