at her sight like mist before the sun.
It seemed to me as if Electra or Cassandra, Cl[oe]lia or Virginia,
stood before me! But still more than by her great beauty, I was charmed
by the grace of her mind as it unfolded itself before me. Her father at
once invited me to remain as his guest, and under his roof I have spent
the happiest days of my life. Valeria lives in the poetry of the
ancients. How her melodious voice lent splendour to the choruses of
AEschylus, and melancholy to Antigone's lament! We read together for
hours, and when she rose from her chair in her enthusiasm, when her
dark hair waved freely over her shoulders and her eyes flashed with an
almost unearthly fire, she looked indeed wonderfully beautiful. Her
character gains an additional charm from a circumstance which may cause
her much future grief, and which runs through her life like a cruel
rent. You will guess what I mean, for you know the history of her
family. You know better than I how it happened that her mother
dedicated Valeria at her birth to a lonely virgin life, passed in works
of piety, but that her rich father, more worldly than heavenly-minded,
bought her release from this vow at the cost of a church and a
cloister. But Valeria believes that Heaven will not accept dead gold
for a living soul; she does not feel released from this vow, of which
she thinks not with love but with fear. For you were right when you
wrote that she is a true child of the ancient heathen world. Not only
that, but she is the true child of her father, yet still she cannot
altogether renounce the pious Christianity of her mother; it lives
within her, not as a blessing, but as an overpowering curse; as the
inevitable fetter of that fatal vow. This strange conflict of feeling
tortures her, but it ennobles her also. Who knows how the struggle will
be ended? Heaven alone which will decide her fate. This inward strife
attracts me. You know that Christian faith and atheistic philosophy
struggle for the victory in my soul. To my astonishment, faith has
increased during these days of sorrow, and it almost seems to me that
happiness leads to heathen wisdom, and pain and misfortune to Christ.
But you have still to learn the cause of my suffering. When I became at
first aware of my growing passion, I was full of joyful hope. Valerius,
perhaps already influenced by you, observed my attention to Valeria
with no dislike; perhaps the only thing he disapproved in me was, that
I did no