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- I39 -

to me that we are given the instinct of s elf-protection in order to forstall what is commonly called Fate, but which is in reality Death, ever ready to waylay the unwary even before he is completely worn out by years of constant dodging. 

October 22nd  Our Sfollata has had news of her husband. She is overjoyed, for it seems that he is in an old monastery near Naples and being well taken care of. He has always wanted to retire to a monastery, says she. There is also a wonderful library where he can read his favourite Greek and Latin authors. She obtained this news from a Nerve doctor who treats patients at a 'casa di cura' not far from here. Now, last night it suddenly occurred to me that the Sfollata's wild eyes were perhaps indicative of an overstrung condition caused by anxiety. that needed to be treated at once, hence the doctor's paliative about the comfortable monastery near Naples. Well, I sincerely hope that I am wrong and that the old Professor is really enjoying monastic seclusion while awaiting his trial. 

January 1st, 1942.  Our friend Y. is dead. Her death came as a shock. Only a few days ago she was here showing no sign of the high blood pressure from which she suffered. Her husband weeps and talks. He would build a bridge of memories to reach her and seek consolation by retracting his steps. Finally he conducts us upstairs. I am prepared to see a Y. beautified by death; her inscrutable smile now a beyond smile with its secret as one has seen at times on death-masks. But no, Y.'s face is set.