He therefore wrote him a little billet, saying, "My dear Petrarch, where have you hid yourself, and whither have you vanished?
What is the meaning of all this ?" The poet received this note at Vaucluse, and sent an explanation of his flight, sincere indeed as to good feelings, but prolix as usual in the expression of them.

Pastrengo sent him a kind reply, and soon afterwards did him the still greater favour of visiting him at Vaucluse, and helping him to cultivate his garden.
Petrarch's flame for Laura was in reality unabated.

One day he met her in the streets of Avignon; for he had not always resolution enough to keep out of the western Babylon.

Laura cast a kind look upon him, and said, "Petrarch, you are tired of loving me." This incident produced one of the finest sonnets, beginning-- _Io non fut d' amar voi lassato unquanco._ Tired, did you say, of loving you?
Oh, no! I ne'er shall tire of the unwearying flame.
But I am weary, kind and cruel dame, With tears that uselessly and ceaseless flow, Scorning myself, and scorn'd by you.

I long For death: but let no gravestone hold in view Our names conjoin'd: nor tell my passion strong Upon the dust that glow'd through life for you.
And yet this heart of amorous faith demands, Deserves, a better boon; but cruel, hard As is my fortune, I will bless Love's bands For ever, if you give me this reward.
In 1339, he composed among other sonnets, those three, the lxii., lxxiv., and lxxv., which are confessedly master-pieces of their kind, as well as three canzoni to the eyes of Laura, which the Italians call the three sister Graces, and worship as divine.[H] The critic Tassoni himself could not censure them, and called them the queens of song.