As long as his strength held out, he made daily pilgrimages to the cemetery.

And now, when the shadow of death was darkening over him, his one motive for clinging to life, his one reason for vainly entreating me to cure him, still centred in devotion to the memory of his wife.

'Nobody will take care of her grave,' he said, 'when I am gone.' "My love, I have always thought fondly of you.

After hearing this miserable story, my heart overflowed with gratitude to God for giving me Carmina.
"He died yesterday.

His last words implored me to have him buried in the same grave with the woman who had dishonoured him.