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The world has been too cruel to him. But
all at once an angel appears; into the ruins of the wasted life a seed
of kindness is dropped, and then behold the beautiful flower of love
springing up--love that becomes a worship, a religion! Yes, I have said
so much before to you; now I say more; now I entreat you not to check
this beautiful worship--it is sacred. This man goes round the churches;
he stands before the pictures of the saints; he wanders on unsatisfied:
he says there is no saint like the beautiful one in England, who healed
him with her soft words when he was sick to death. But now, my dear
Monsieur Brand, I hear you say to yourself, 'What is my friend
Calabressa after now? Has he taken to the writings of pious sermons? Is
he about to shave his head and put a rope round his waist? My faith,
that is not like that fellow Calabressa!' You are right, my friend. I
describe the creation of the devotee; it is a piece of poetry, as one
might say. But your devotee must have his amulet; is it not so? This is
the meaning and prayer of my letter to you.


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