Of that he was convinced. He felt like a man who had pursued a
beautiful image to the foot of a precipitous cliff; the rock had
opened and swallowed up his dream, leaving him standing alone in
hopeless despair; and a great deal more poetic nonsense of that kind.
I do not believe I had ever realised what he so truly felt for Hedwig
until I sat at my table with his letter before me, overcome with the
sense of my own weakness in not having effectually checked this mad
passion at its rise; or, since it had grown so masterfully, of my
wretched procrastination in not having taken my staff in my hand and
gone out into the world to find the woman my boy loved and bring her
to him. By this time, I thought, I should have found her. I could not
bear to think of his being ill, suffering, heart-broken,--ruined, if
he lost his voice by an illness,--merely because I had not had the
strength to do the best thing for him. Poor Nino, I thought, you shall
never say again that Cornelio Grandi has not done what was in his
power to make you happy.
"That baron! an apoplexy on him! has illuded me with his promises of
help," I said to myself. "He has no more intention of helping me or
Nino than he has of carrying off the basilica of St. Peter. Courage,
Cornelio! thou must gird up thy loins, and take a little money in thy
scrip, and find Hedwig von Lira."
All that night I lay awake, trying to think how I might accomplish
this end; wondering to which point of the compass I should turn, and,
above all, reflecting that I must make great sacrifices.
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