My fatal sin, the sin for which I now atone, was that I dissembled, that
I denied and extenuated that which I represented to myself as a natural
right. Against the Queen I have sinned worst of all. To me she
represents that moral order which I violated and yet wished to enjoy.
To you, O Queen, to you--lovely, good, and deeply injured one--do I
confess all this!
If I die before you,--and I hope that I may,--these pages are to be
given to you.
* * * * *
I can now accurately tell the season of the year, and often the hour of
the day, by the way in which the first sunbeams fall into my room and on
my work-bench in the morning. My chisel hangs before me on the wall, and
is my index.
The drizzling spring showers now fall on the trees; and thus it is with
me. It seems as if there were a new delight in store for me. What can it
be? I shall patiently wait!
* * * * *
A strange feeling comes over me, as if I were lifted up from the chair
on which I am sitting, and were flying, I know not whither! What is it?
I feel as if dwelling in eternity.
Everything seems flying toward me: the sunlight and the sunshine, the
rustling of the forests and the forest breezes, beings of all ages and
of all kinds--all seem beautiful and rendered transparent by the
sun's glow.