As with others, an hour has its ill-humour: the
peevish hour or a malevolent humour has sometimes
stamped our hearts with its black seals; and yet,
in spite of all, even at the close of the darkest
days, never have our hearts said the irrevocable
words.
A radiant and glowing sincerity was our joy and
counsel, and our passionate soul found therein
ever new strength, as in a ruddy flood.
And we recounted each to the other our
wretchedest woes, telling them like some harsh
rosary, as we stood facing one another, with our
love rising in sobs; and our two mouths, at each
avowal, gently and in turn kissed our faults on
the lips that uttered them aloud.
Thus, very simply, without baseness or bitter
words, we escaped from the world and from
ourselves, sparing ourselves all grief and
gnawing cares, and watching the rebirth of our
soul, as the purity of glass and gold of a
window-pane is reborn after the rain, when the
sun warms it and gently dries it.