“And you will betray me!” cried she, in dismay. “You will tell him?”
“No, Leonora, I will not betray you to any one. I will tell no human being a word of what I have overheard.”
“Swear that you will not, signora. Swear that you will keep my secret, and that you will not betray it to him, even though my life should be at stake.”
“I swear that I will not, Leonora. Have confidence in me, my child! I have suffered as you suffer, and my heart still bears the scars of deep and painful wounds. I have known the anguish of hopeless love!”
“I too, suffer; I suffer terribly,” murmured Leonora. “I would gladly die, it would be a relief!”
“Poor child, death is not so kind a friend as to hasten to our relief when we call him! We must learn to endure life, and to say with smiling lips to the dagger when we draw it from the bleeding wound: ‘Paete, paete, non dolet!’”
CHAPTER XI.
ADIEU TO ITALY.
Writhing in agony for three days and three long nights, at length Goethe found relief in the omnipresent balsam, all-healing Nature!