I made a great sacrifice for Carlino's sake when I returned to Vena after an absence of three years.

I have always loved him, but the message from Jenne would make me face far greater sacrifices than this for him, make me face them willingly, though conscious of having lost all merit in them.
I am not satisfied with your letters; I will tell you why sometime, but not now.

It is too difficult to write here.

The mist is rolling down from the uplands high above the spring, and a cold west wind is blowing.
I must be careful of my health on Carlino's account, and this is another sacrifice, for I hate my health! _Later_.
Noemi, could you not contrive to let the enclosed half-sheet of paper, upon which I have written in pencil, fall into _his_ hands?
You hesitate to tell him how obedient I am; could you not, at least, help me to let him know it in this way?
I am not satisfied with your letters, first of all because they are too short.

You know how eager I am to hear all about him.