"I loved without having thought about it, without appreciating the consequences of my extravagant passion, without fearing them for the future, for I lived completely in the impressions of the present. I loved a woman who would be universally recognizable were I to depict the rare qualities that she is clothed with, combining with beauty all the perfections of intelligence and soul, and that heaven seems only to have entrusted to earth to remind us of the ineffable joy of the condition we have lost. I loved her without remembering that she was, of all aristocrats, the noblest, of all the affluent, the most affluent and that I was only Francesco Colonna, the unknown pupil of Bellini, and that all my efforts to be happy in my work would only ever lead me to the acquisition of a sterile reputation. Such is the effect of that passion that dazzles, that blinds, that kills. When reflection had restored me to myself, when I had sounded with a frightened eye, with the bitter laughter of despair, the chasm towards which I had made so much headway without even knowing it, it was too late to go back: I was lost. The first thought of a wretch is to die. That thought is as commodious as it is natural because it answers all questions and remedies all inconveniences. But might not this desperate death, far from hastening to bring about the day when I may draw nearer to her in a better world, separate me from her forever? It was a totally new idea that held back my arm when it was ready to strike; I took in the future that my inability to endure a few days without her was going to deprive me of. I was painfully condemned to live without hope, but without fear, to reach that moment when two souls, freed from all the ties that have weighed down on them, look for each other, recognize each other and are then brought together for all time. I made of her I loved an object of worship my whole life long. I raised to her an inviolable altar in my heart and dedicated myself to her as an everlasting sacrifice. Can I say that, under my invincible sadness, this plan, once decided upon, was mingled with some joy? I grasped that this marriage, which started with widowhood to end up having, was perhaps preferable to ordinary marriages, which shatter on bad days. I no longer saw in the years that remained to me to spend among men anything other than a long engagement that death would crown with an eternal felicity. I felt the need to isolate myself from the world to recollect myself in a nevertheless delightful feeling of austerity that I would not have to share, and that is why I embraced the duties of the would-be monk. May God pardon his creature's weakness! The oath that will bind me to Him in three days' time is the oath that will bind me indissolubly to her I love and that will only give me rights over her in heaven. Allow me to repeat, by way of conclusion, that the accomplishment of this plan will