With my returning health I am gradually drifting back into the magic
circle. The doctor says that in a few days I shall be able to travel.
I will go hence, for it is too near Warsaw and Ploszow. It may be one
of my nervous whims, but I feel I shall be better and more at rest in
Rome on the Babuino. I do not promise myself to forget the past; on
the contrary, I shall think of it from morning until night, but the
thoughts will be like unto meditations behind cloister walls. Besides,
what can I know of how it will be? All I know is that I cannot remain
here any longer. I shall call upon Angeli by the way; I must have her
portrait at Rome.