“The sale of my little devotional images carved out of stone, which Guido sold about the country to much better advantage than I could have done, defrayed the humble expenses of this establishment. In about a week we had advanced so far as to give a dozen representations in the suburbs of Rome, which had the greatest success, and netted the fabulous profit of three Roman crowns! This was enough to enable us to set out on our journey across the deserted regions that separate the Eternal City from the other provinces of Italy. Guido, who was delighted at our success, wanted to stay longer at Rome. It is very true that we might have risked going into the more fashionable quarters of the city, so as to have attracted the attention of a better class of society to our little comedies. But that was precisely what I was afraid of, and what we both needed to be afraid of, considering our reasons for remaining concealed. I therefore overruled my companion, and we took the road to Florence, exhibiting, as we went, in the villages and small towns, to pay our current expenses.
“We went by the way of Perugia, and it was not without a reason that I preferred this to the Sienna route. I wished to see again my own beautiful and beloved city, my sweet lake of Thrasymene, and, most of all, the little villa where I had been so happy. We reached Bassignano at nightfall. Never had I seen the sun setting in such luminous splendor in waters so calm and transparent! I left Guido to establish himself in a small inn, while I went along the shore of the lake towards the little villa which had formerly been occupied by the Goffredis.
“In order to avoid being recognized in the neighborhood, I put on a mask and a harlequin hat, which I had bought at Rome to use in case of danger. A few parti-colored rags transformed me into a professional mountebank—a very appropriate character for an exhibitor of marionettes employed in distributing handbills. The village children, fancying that I was going to play tricks for their amusement, followed me with cries of joy, but I drove them away with my wooden sword, and was soon alone upon the shore.
“The night had come on, but the air was bright, and in the limpid crystal of the lake, where the lines of the horizon were indistinguishable in the twilight, I seemed to trace and follow the immensity of the starry heavens, and to float, like a disembodied spirit, upon some fantastic similitude of infinity. Ah, Monsieur Goefle! how strange is life sometimes! And what a strange appearance did I myself present, in that grotesque costume, seeking about, like a lost soul, under the shade of the willows, which had grown in my absence, for the solitary tomb of my poor parents! For a moment I believed that it had been removed, that they had robbed me of it—for it was mine—my only possession! With my very last means I had purchased the little nook of consecrated earth where I had laid their remains.
“At last, however, I discovered the humble tomb, and, sitting down by it, and taking off my harlequin’s mask, I wept freely. I remained there for a good part of the night plunged in reflection, for I desired, before leaving this spot probably for the last time, to review my life, to repent of my errors, and to make good resolutions for the future. Divine grace is no illusion, Monsieur Goefle. I do not know to what extent you are a Lutheran, and for my part I do not pretend to be very much of a Catholic. In these days, in fact, nobody believes in very much of anything, unless it be in the necessity and duty of toleration. But I believe, in a vague sort of way, in a soul of the world—no matter by what name you call it—a great soul all love and goodness, which receives our tears and our aspirations. The philosophers are just now asserting that it is a platitude to imagine that the Being of beings will condescend to concern himself with such worms as the human race. But I say that there is nothing either great or small, in the sight of Him who is All; and that, in an ocean of Love, there will always be room to receive with kindness one poor little human tear.
“Accordingly I instituted an examination of my conscience over that tomb; and, in the rain of soft light which fell upon me from the quiet stars, I fancied that the two beings whom I had loved as a father and mother, must surely be sending at least one ray to find me out and bless me. I felt that between me and them there was neither crime, shame, cowardice, nor impiety. I had never forgotten them for a single day; and, in the very midst of my dissipations, whenever the demon of youth and curiosity had urged me towards the deeper abysses of this vicious and unbelieving world, I had always drawn back and protected myself by invoking the memories of Silvio and Sophia.
“To have avoided evil, however, was not enough; it was my duty to do well. Well-doing is a task which varies with the position and capabilities of each one of us. My own duty was, to continue the labors of Silvio Goffredi, and to accumulate the means of writing out and publishing the results of his researches. For this it would have been necessary, in the first place, to acquire quite a fortune, in order to complete his travels. I had at first thought of doing this, but my inexperience, the pleasures of the senses, and bad examples, had led me on, from day to day, in a life like that of a mere adventurer. It was this reckless course which had resulted in my ruin. If I had remained contented with the appropriate position of a modest professor, I should not have been obliged to kill Marco Melfi. He would never have thought of insulting me; indeed, he would not have met me in the cardinal’s saloons. He would not have searched me out in my study among my books—he would not even have known that I existed. I had tried to play the gentleman, and had been obliged to become a bully.
“‘How my poor mother would have wept!’ I thought to myself, ‘to have seen me transformed into a strolling mountebank, bruising, on the stones of the pavement, the feet that she used to warm in her own hands before putting me in my cradle! And would not my father have disapproved of the false sense of honor which had made me a murderer and an outcast?’
“I remembered the quick sensibilities and scrupulous pride of the noble Silvio, and yet he could not manage a sword, and had refused to allow me a fencing-master. ‘A man’s honor,’ he used to say, ‘must be very frail, if he could not make himself respected without having a sword dangling at his side.’
“By the memory of these dear and holy friends I took an oath to amend my faults; and, after gazing for a long time at the heavens, where I imagined them reunited in some happy star, I returned at once to the village, without caring any longer to go in search of the villetta. Why should I have gone there to indulge in barren regrets? It was not to enable me to live in idleness that Goffredi had bequeathed it to me. He must needs have blessed me, even from his tomb, for alienating the property, and expending his whole fortune in solacing the last days of his widow. But when that was done, I ought to have labored all the harder, instead of acting as if one small act of devotion to my family had given me a right to go and live in dissipation at the tables of idlers.