— 121 —
them. The superior was lying alone trying to fight off the desperate dying man.
The adventure might have had most serious consequences, so, in order to get away from it all, I escaped that night from this den of crime and debauchery.
I stayed some little time at Florence, the abode of love and distinction. A young English nobleman, Sir Edward X…, poetic and a dreamer like Oswald, fell violently in love with me. I was sick of disgusting amusements. Up to that time my physical senses alone had been awakened, my soul still slumbered. It was gently awakened by the pure and sweet accents of a disinterested and noble love. I began to understand the beauties of a new existence: I felt vague and inexpressible desires that lent poetry and happiness to my life…
Combustible substances do not catch fire of themselves; but a spark is often enough to set them burning! In this manner my heart was inflamed by the passionate declarations of my lover. When I heard the accents of this new language, I felt a sweet trembling go right through me, I listened attentively; my eager eyes lost no expression of his beloved features. The flame that came forth from my lover's eyes penetrated
