Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - VIII. Naples
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youth. The memory of my disgraceful conduct
haunted me for years. The more I thought of
it, the more incomprehensible it seemed to me.
What had happened to me? What unknown
force had been at work to make me lose the
control over my senses, strong, but so far less
strong than my head? I was no newcomer to
Naples, I had chattered and laughed with those
fiery girls of the south before. I had danced the
tarantella with them many a summer evening in
Capri. I may have stolen a kiss or two from
them if it came to the worst, but I had always
remained the captain of the ship, quite capable
of suppressing any sign of insubordination of the
crew. In my student days in Quartier Latin I
had almost fallen in love with Sœur Philomène,
the beautiful young sister in Salle St. Claire, all
I had dared to do had been to stretch out my
hand timidly to bid her good-bye the day I was
leaving the hospital for good, and she did not
even take it. Now in Naples I had wanted to
throw my arms round every girl I set eyes on,
and no doubt I would have done it had I not
fainted in Strada Piliero the day I had kissed a
nun at the death-bed of an Abbess!
In looking back upon my Naples days after a
lapse of so many years I can no more excuse my
conduct to-day than I could then, but maybe
I can to a certain extent explain it.
I have not been watching during all these
years the battle between Life and Death without
getting to know something of the two
combatants. When I first saw Death at work in the
hospital wards it was a mere wrestling match
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