this freshness, freedom and peace, morning, noon, and night—there are almost too many good things!
I awake in the night with a joyous longing for the day; I rise early in the morning at—five o'clock, that I may witness the crimson light of sunrise, and the wondrously beautiful play of colors which it produces in the vast expanse of space. I behold the sun rise, and his earliest beams salute the little statue of Minerva on the tower of the Capitol. At noon I am seated at my writing-table, with the doors open upon the balcony, on which I go out now and then to bathe my temples in the glorious air of spring, and to let my eye wander over the landscape. I take my breakfast and dinner also with these doors open, whilst the most lovely white and silver-gray doves come tripping in upon the green carpet to gather up some of the crumbs of the table.
A respectable Italian matron, Theresa, trustworthy and kind as a faithful old servant in Sweden, waits upon me, and attends to my little household. In the afternoon I take my walks, visit churches, studios, or the parts of Rome with which I am unacquainted; in the evening, I again stand in my balcony, see the crescent moon rise above the shadows of the triumphal arches and ruins of ancient Rome, see little lights kindled along the Tiber and reflected in its waters.
I thank my Father in Heaven the whole day long, and work at my story “Father and Daughter.” I am writing this story with joy; because this picture represents the light-side of that portraiture of life of which my “Hertha” supplied the shadow-side.
After these two works I shall die more calmly.
