He looks more divine than ever, after all
his new, strange sufferings. He asked after all of you. He stayed two
hours, and we talked, though rapidly, of everything. He hopes to come
often, but the crisis is tremendous, and all will come on him; since,
if any one can save Italy from her foes, inward and outward, it will
be he. But he is very doubtful whether this be possible; the foes are
too many, too strong, too subtle. Yet Heaven helps sometimes. I only
grieve I cannot aid him; freely would I give my life to aid him, only
bargaining for a quick death. I don't like slow torture. I fear that
it is in reserve for him, to survive defeat. True, he can never be
utterly defeated; but to see Italy bleeding, prostrate once more, will
be very dreadful for him.
He has sent me tickets, twice, to hear him speak in the Assembly. It
was a fine, commanding voice. But, when he finished, he looked very
exhausted and melancholy. He looks as if the great battle he had
fought had been too much for his strength, and that he was only
sustained by the fire of the soul.
All this I write to you, because you said, when I was suffering at
leaving Mazzini,--"You will meet him in heaven.
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