"I shall leave you my wine," said I, "see to find me the paper; I
want to carry on this correspondence; and, rely on it, if any one
comes without the warning song, I shall make an end of every
suspicious article."

"Here is a sheet of paper ready for you; I will give you more
whenever you please, and am perfectly satisfied of your prudence."

I longed to take my coffee; Tremerello left me, and I sat down to
write. Did I do right? was the motive really approved by God? Was
it not rather the triumph of my natural courage, of my preference of
that which pleased me, instead of obeying the call for painful
sacrifices. Mingled with this was a proud complacency, in return
for the esteem expressed towards me by the unknown, and a fear of
appearing cowardly, if I were to adhere to silence and decline a
correspondence, every way so fraught with peril. How was I to
resolve these doubts? I explained them frankly to my fellow-
prisoner in replying to him, stating it nevertheless, as my opinion,
that if anything were undertaken from good motives, and without the
least repugnance of conscience, there could be no fear of blame. I
advised him at the same time to reflect seriously upon the subject,
and to express clearly with what degree of tranquillity, or of
anxiety, he was prepared to engage, in it. Moreover, if, upon
reconsideration, he considered the plan as too dangerous, we ought
to have firmness enough to renounce the satisfaction we promised
ourselves in such a correspondence, and rest satisfied with the
acquaintance we had formed, the mutual pleasure we had already
derived, and the unalterable goodwill we felt towards each other,
which resulted from it. I filled four pages with my explanations,