good to you, Porfirio. It is because--of late--this evening--I have much
wished for you to be here. It is because---"

"Cospetto!" I heard the doctor cry, "what is the meaning of this? Come
here, my dear." And then, when she went to him and sat upon his knee, I
heard him murmur his endearments--ah, and I heard her soft and broken
replies! And I knew very well that in her heart she was reproaching
herself for what I alone had done, and by her humble appeal for kindness
was craving his forgiveness for offences for which I could never hope to
be forgiven.

These terrible discoveries, far from making me cease to love Aurelia,
increased incalculably while they changed and purged my love. Pity and
terror, says Aristotle in his Poetics, are the soul's cathartics. Both
of these I felt, and emerged the cleaner. By the tune Aurelia had coaxed
her husband to come to bed, and had gone thither, with a kiss, herself,
I was half way to a great resolve, which, though it resulted in untold
misery of body, was actually, as I verily believe, the means of my
soul's salvation. Without ceasing for a moment to love Aurelia, I now
loved her honestly again. I could see her a wife, I could know her a
loving wife, without one unworthy thought; I could gain glory from what
was her glory, I could be enthusiastic upon those virtues in her which
to a selfish lover would have been the destruction of his hopes. In a
word, I loved her now because she loved another.

There is nothing remarkable in my possession of feelings which no
honourable man should be without; nor can I see that what I was moved to
do, in consequence of having those feelings, was any way out of the
common. If the sweet subservience and careful ministry of Aurelia had
moved her husband's admiration, how much the more must they have moved