od's love. In the place of faith, doubt had stepped in,
and only that decency innate in every generous heart hindered
him from indulging in sarcasm and mockery over holy things and
the consolations of religion.

While he was in this spiritual condition he was attacked by
the pulmonary disease that was soon to carry him away from us.
The knowledge of this cruel sickness reached me on my return
from Rome. With beating heart I hurried to him, to see once
more the friend of my youth, whose soul was infinitely dearer
to me than all his talent. I found him, not thinner, for that
was impossible, but weaker. His strength sank, his life faded
visibly. He embraced me with affection and with tears in his
eyes, thinking not of his own pain but of mine; he spoke of my
poor friend Eduard Worte, whom I had just lost, you know how.
(He was shot, a martyr of liberty, at Vienna, November 10,
1848.)

I availed myself of his softened mood to speak to him about
his soul. I recalled his thoughts to the piety of his
childhood and of his beloved mother. "Yes," he said, "in order
not to offend my mother I would not die without the
sacraments, but for my part I do not regard them in the sense
that you desire. I understand the blessing of confession in so
far as it is the unburdening of a heavy heart into a friendly
hand, but not as a sacrament. I am ready to confess to you if
you wish it, because I love you, not because I hold it
necessary." Enough: a crowd of anti-religious speeches filled
me with terror and care for this elect soul, and I feared
nothing more than to be called to be his confessor.

Several months passed with similar conversations, so painful
to me, the priest and the sincere friend. Yet I clung to the
conviction that the grace of God would obtain the victory over
this rebellious soul, even if I knew not how. After all my
exertions, prayer remained my only refuge.

On the evening of October 12 I had with my brethren retired to
pray for a change in Chopin's mind, when I was summoned by
orders of the physician, in fear that he would not live
through the night. I hastened to him. He pressed my hand, but
bade me at once to depart, while he assured me he loved me
much, but did not wish to speak to me.

Imagine, if you can, what a night I passed! Next day was the
13th, the day of St. Edward, the patron of my poor brother. I
said mass for the rep