failed in him even before it was set aside by the world. The reason
for this failure was the death of my mother. My father, who in spite
of his nickname, "Leon l'Invincible," and reputation of conqueror of
hearts, was a man of deep feelings and simply worshipped my mother,
put many terrible questions to his philosophy, and not obtaining
either answer or comfort, recognized its utter emptiness in the
presence of a great sorrow. This must have been an awful tragedy of
his life, since it almost shattered its foundations,--the brain
and heart. His mind became affected, as I said before, and when he
recovered he went back to his religious convictions. I was told that
at one time he prayed night and day, knelt down in the street when he
passed a church, and was carried away by his religious fervor to such
an extent that he was looked upon by some as a madman, by others as a
saint. It was evident he found more consolation in this than in his
philosophical triplicities, for he gradually calmed down and began
to lead a more rational life. His heart, with all his power for
affection, turned towards me, and his aesthetic bent found employment
in the study of early Christianity. The lofty, restless mind wanted
nourishment. After his first year in Rome he took up archaeology, and
by dint of hard study acquired a thorough knowledge of the antique.

Father Calvi, my first tutor and at the same time a great judge of
Roman antiquities, gave him the final impulse towards investigation of
the Eternal City. Some fifteen years ago my father became acquainted
and subsequently on terms of friendship with the great Rossi, in
whose company he spent whole days in the catacombs. Thanks to his
extraordinary gifts he soon acquired such consummate knowledge of Rome
as to astonish Rossi himself. Several times he began writing treatises
on the subject, but never finished what he had begun. Maybe the
completion of his collections took up too much of his time, but most