en with me,
strengthening me amid the dangers of travel, and has been a comfort
to my soul's loneliness in foreign lands. The thoughts of you
have neutralized the lotus-effect of Europe, which erases from the
memories of so many of our countrymen the hopes and misfortunes of our
fatherland. In dreams I saw you standing on the shore at Manila, gazing
at the far horizon wrapped in the warm light of the early dawn. I heard
the slow, sad song that awoke in me sleeping affections and called
back to the memory of my heart the first years of our childhood, our
joys, our pleasures, and all that happy past which you gave life to
while you were in our town. It seemed to me that you were the fairy,
the spirit, the poetic incarnation of my fatherland, beautiful,
unaffected, lovable, frank, a true daughter of the Philippines,
that beautiful land which unites with the imposing virtues of the
mother country, Spain, the admirable qualities of a young people,
as you unite in your being all that is beautiful and lovely, the
inheritance of both races" so indeed the love of you and that of my
fatherland have become fused into one.

"Could I forget you? Many times have I thought that I heard the
sound of your piano and the accents of your voice. When in Germany,
as I wandered at twilight in the woods, peopled with the fantastic
creations of its poets and the mysterious legends of past generations,
always I called upon your name, imagining that I saw you in the mists
that rose from the depths of the valley, or I fancied that I heard
your voice in the rustling of the leaves. When from afar I heard the
songs of the peasants as they returned from their labors, it seemed to
me that their tones harmonized with my inner voices, that they were
singing for _you_, and thus they lent reality to my illusions and
dreams. At times I became lost among the mountain paths and while the
night descended slowly, as it does there, I would find myself still
wandering, seeking my way among the pines and beeches and oaks. Then
when some scattering rays of moonlight slipped down into the clear
spaces left in the dense foliage, I seemed to see you in the heart of
the forest as a dim, loving shade wavering about between the spots of
light and shadow. If perhaps the nightingale poured forth his varied
trills, I fancied it was because he saw you and was inspired by you.

"Have I thought of you? The fever of love not only gave warmth to the
snows but colored the ice!