undertook to write to his father-in-law on my behalf....

At Pæstum we found the abundance and luxuriance of Sicilian landscape;
its Grecian temples and its poverty. We were surrounded by crowds of
half-naked beggars. One young girl there was, a little away from the
others, scarcely more than eleven years old, but lovely as the goddess
of beauty. Modesty, soul, and a deep expression of suffering were
expressed in her countenance. She was blind! I gave her a scudo. Her
cheeks burned. She kissed my hand; and the touch seemed to go through my
blood. The guide told us afterwards that her name was Lara, and that she
generally sat in the Temple of Neptune.

The ruined temple made a mighty impression upon us; I was requested to
improvise in these romantic surroundings. Deeply moved by my thoughts of
the blind girl, I sang of the glories of Nature and art, and of the poor
maiden from whom all this magnificence was concealed. When we left the
temple, I lagged behind, and, looking around, I saw Lara on her knees,
her hands clasped together. She had heard my song! It smote me to the
soul. I saw her pressing my scudo to her lips and smile; I grew quite
warm at the sight of it, and pressed a hot kiss upon her forehead. With
a thrilling cry she sprang up like a terrified deer, and was gone. I
felt as if I had committed a sin, and sadly joined my party.

Amalfi, Capri--I drank the intoxicating beauty of it all. Then I was
prevailed upon to return to Rome with Fabiani and Francesca. We spent a
day at Naples, where I found two letters waiting for me. The first was a
brief note to this effect: "A faithful heart, which intends honourably
and kindly towards you, expects you this evening." It gave an address,
but no name--merely "Your old friend." The second was from the same
hand, and read: "Come, Antonio! The terror of the last unfortunate