nly
if I could come to a violent decision I should be the happiest woman
in the world; I should never think of the past; I should live in him
and for him; for I care for nothing in this world. Comfort, luxury,
position, all is vanity for me; peace by his side would suffice for me.
And yet I am condemned to languish far from him. What a horrible life!"

Again she writes to Gori:--

"Dear friend, I am so very, very grateful for the interest you take in
my unhappy situation, which is really terrible. Time serves only to
aggravate it, and certainly it will bring no alleviation to my misery
until I shall meet our friend. There is no peace, no tranquillity for
me. I would give whatever of life may remain to me in order to live for
one day with him, and I should be satisfied. My feelings for him are
unchangeable, and I am sure that his for me are the same. When shall I
see the end of my woes? Who knows whether I shall ever see it? That man
(Charles Edward) does not seem inclined to depart ... I suffer a little
from my nerves ... but those are the least of my sufferings. It is the
heart which suffers. I have moments of despair when I could throw myself
out of the window were it not for the thought that I must live for my
friend's sake; that my life is his. I feel a disgust for life which is
so reasoned out that I say to myself sometimes, 'Why do I live? What
good do I do?' and then I continue to suffer patiently, remembering
my friend. Forgive me for unbosoming myself with you, who alone can
understand me; you alone, except my friend, understand what I suffer.
Do you know, you ought to come and see me this winter, you would give
me such a pleasure. Good-bye, dear Signor Francesco; preserve your
friendship for me."

Thus she runs on, repeating and re-repeating the same ideas, the same
words, her love for Alfieri, her desperate situation, her hatred of
life, her uselessness, her desire to play the harp well for Alfieri's
sake, her hopes that Charles Edward may die; disconnected phrases, run
into each other without so much as a comma or a full stop (since I
have had to punctuate my translation, at least partially, to make it
intelligible); the excited, unconsecutive, unceasing, discursive,
reiterating gabble of hysteria, eager, vague, impotent, thoughts
suddenly vanishing and as suddenly coming to a dead stop; everything
rattled off as if between two sobs or two convulsions. Did Alfieri enjoy
receiving letters such as these? Do