For I, perhaps, had made his last thought sin;
And I, perhaps, had lured him toward his doom.
I thought then of my father, of the priest,
What they of love had said, of genuine love,
Such love as Christ had had. I ask’d myself
If there was naught that I could sacrifice?
XXXV.
Ah, friend, do you recall that afternoon
When first we met? How sad yet sweet it seem’d!
So many kindly sisters with me spake,