Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/50

36 danger that threatened her, she kept up courage and hope, made daily plans for the journey, and looked forward to setting out at any moment. But the weeks passed and the months also; slowly and gradually the hope faded. The journey to Italy must be given up; she was not in condition to be brought home, and she reluctantly resigned herself to remain where she was and &quot;convalesce,&quot; as she confidently believed, in the spring. Once again came the analogy, which she herself pointed out now, to Heine on his mattress-grave in Paris. She, too, the last time she went out, dragged herself to the Louvre, to the feet of the Venus, &quot; the goddess without arms, who could not help.&quot; Only her indomitable will and intense desire to live seemed to keep her alive. She sunk to a very low ebb, but, as she herself expressed it, she &quot; seemed to have always one little window looking out into life,&quot; and in the spring she rallied sufficiently to take a few drives and to sit on the balcony of her apartment. She came back to life with a feverish sort of thirst and avidity. &quot; No such cure for pessimism,&quot; she says, &quot; as a severe illness; the simplest pleasures are enough,—to breathe the air and see the sun.&quot;

Many plans were made for leaving Paris, but it was finally decided to risk the ocean voyage and bring her home, and accordingly she sailed July 23d, arriving in New York on the last day of that month.