WE were in hopes (and so in fact it happened) that by speaking in a lower
tone, and perhaps occasionally having guards whose humanity might prompt
them to pay no attention to us, we might renew our conversation. By dint
of practice we learnt to hear each other in so low a key that the sounds
were almost sure to escape the notice of the sentinels. If, as it rarely
happened, we forgot ourselves, and talked aloud, there came down upon us
a torrent of cries, and knocks at our doors, accompanied with threats and
curses of every kind, to say nothing of poor Schiller’s vexation, and
that of the superintendent.
By degrees, however, we brought our system to perfection; spoke only at
the precise minutes, quarters, and half hours when it was safe, or when
such and such guards were upon duty. At length, with moderate caution,
we were enabled every day to converse almost as much as we pleased,
without drawing on us the attention or anger of any of the superior
officers.
It was thus we contracted an intimate friendship. The Count told me his
adventures, and in turn I related mine. We sympathised in everything we
heard, and in all each other’s joys or griefs. It was of infinite
advantage to us, as well as pleasure; for often, after passing a
sleepless night, one or the other would hasten to the window and salute
his friend. How these mutual welcomes and conversations helped to
encourage us, and to soothe the horrors of our continued solitude! We
felt that we were useful to each other; and the sense of this roused a
gentle emulation in all our thoughts, and gave a satisfaction which man
receives, even in misery, when he knows he can serve a fellow-creature.
Each conversation gave rise to new ones; it was necessary to continue
them, and to explain as we went on. It was an unceasing stimulus to our
ideas to our reason, our memory, our imagination, and our hearts.
At first, indeed, calling to mind Julian, I was doubtful as to the
fidelity of this new friend. I reflected that hitherto we had not been
at variance; but some day I feared something unpleasant might occur, and
that I should then be sent back to my solitude. But this suspicion was
soon removed. Our opinions harmonised upon all essential points. To a
noble mind, full of ardour and generous sentiment, undaunted by
misfortune, he added the most clear and perfect faith in Christianity,
while in me this had become vacillating and at times apparently extinct.
He met my doubts with most just and admirable reflections; and with equal
affection, I felt that he had reason on his side: I admitted it, yet
still my doubts returned. It is thus, I believe, with all who have not
the Gospel at heart, and who hate, or indulge resentments of any kind.
The mind catches glimpses, as it were, of the truth, but as it is
unpleasing, it is disbelieved the moment after, and the attention
directed elsewhere.
Oroboni was indefatigable in turning _my_ attention to the motives which
man has to show kindness to his enemies. I never spoke of any one I
abhorred but he began in a most dexterous manner to defend him, and not
less by his words than by his example. Many men had injured him; it
grieved him, yet he forgave all, and had the magnanimity to relate some
laudable trait or other belonging to each, and seemed to do it with
pleasure.
The irritation which had obtained such a mastery over me, and rendered me
so irreligious after my condemnation, continued several weeks, and then
wholly ceased. The noble virtue of Oroboni delighted me. Struggling as
well as I could to reach him, I at least trod in the same track, and I
was then enabled to pray with sincerity; to forgive, to hate no one, and
dissipate every remaining doubt and gloom.
_Ubi charitas et amor_, _Deus ibi est_. {25}