For several days I had some difficulty in concealing the irrepressible joy
I betrayed in my face in spite of my efforts, and which there was
apparently nothing to justify.
Lorenzo’s attitude, in fact, remained the same. He continued, as he had
done since his return, to appear only at the hour of his repasts. A part
of the morning he remained shut up in his studio, which he now rarely
allowed me to enter, and he spent all his evenings abroad. Mario had
returned to Sicily; Stella had not yet wholly resumed her usual ease with
me, and Lando, absorbed in his own affairs, was less interested than usual
in mine.
Our customary reunions continued, however, and the same visitors assembled
every evening, as before. I frequently heard my aunt loudly lament the
departure of _quel Francese simpatico_, and declare how much il Kergy was
missed by everybody. In fact, Gilbert’s name was continually repeated, and
I sometimes thought Stella was astonished at my calmness, which was
incomprehensible to her, whereas, on the contrary, I was not in the least
surprised at her silence, which I understood perfectly. But we continued
our tacit agreement never to speak of him to each other. Several days
passed in this way, during which Livia was the only person from whom I
concealed nothing. How great her joy was when, on seeing me again, she
read with a single look the recovered peace of my soul, it is useless to
say here. From that time we seemed to be united by a stronger tie than
that of blood, and to have become more than sisters. But when, in the
transport of my new joy, I declared that the luxuries of my beautiful home
now seemed a burden and a fetter, and that I preferred the austere
simplicity which surrounded her, she at once checked me.
“Our tastes should correspond with our vocation, Gina. Yours is not to
leave the world, or even to lay aside its superfluities. Endeavor to
please Lorenzo, to win him back. That is your mission, which is as high as
any other; and when you feel your former affection for him revive in your
heart, believe me, _carina_, it will meet with no opposition from the love
God has revealed to your soul! You have dreamed of great things for
Lorenzo. Come, Gina, courage! now is the time to realize them!”
It was thus she led me back to a great but evident truth. I comprehended
it in spite of the different feelings I had experienced, and trusted time
would give me an opportunity of winning back my husband’s heart, which was
even sorer than mine had ever been. My eyes were often filled with tears,
in spite of myself, as I saw the alteration in his face, his anxious look,
his brow furrowed before the time, and all the sad indications by which a
soul that is tarnished betrays the reaction which has such an injurious
effect on physical beauty itself. But the time was gone by when it seemed
possible to form some project, and achieve it in a day. I had learned the
value of the words _patience_ and _silence_.
I rose now every morning as soon as it was light, and went with Ottavia to
the church of a neighboring convent to seek strength for the day and, so
to speak, draw fresh joy from the inexhaustible fountain. I afterwards
carried myself the alms which, in my pride and indolence, I had hitherto
been contented to distribute by her hands. This was the only outward
change in my way of life, and it was one that nobody perceived. But it was
not quite the same with the change that had unconsciously taken place in
my language, manners, and even in the expression of my face, and though
Lorenzo seldom had an opportunity of noticing me, I soon fancied he had
recovered a certain ease of manner towards me. Until now, he had been, not
only wounded in his pride and passion, but especially humiliated in my
presence; and it must be acknowledged that the coldness and disdain that
constituted the mute form of my reproach were not calculated to conciliate
him. The freezing haughtiness of his air in return, which seemed to add
outrage to perjury, increased my exasperation to the utmost, and irritated
me more than his actual offences did at the time I gave myself up with
desperation to the thought of Gilbert, as a kind of intoxication which
made me at once forget my grief and my anger. Now I no longer sought to
escape from the one, and the other was wholly extinguished. This new state
of my soul produced an outward calmness and serenity I had never possessed
before.
Lorenzo’s quick, penetrating eye soon detected the change without being
able to imagine the cause. One day, after looking attentively at me for a
moment, a sad, thoughtful expression came over his face, and I thought
there was something like affection and respect in his look.
This did not prevent him, however, from spending the evening away from
home, and I anxiously followed him in spirit as usual, not daring to utter
a word to detain him, and still less venture to question him. A whole week
passed in this way, in the vague hope of finding some means of influencing
him, but nothing of the kind happened. All at once, one morning, by some
extraordinary accident we happened to be alone a moment together, and
after causing me some anxiety by the gloomy expression on his face, he
gave me a great but pleasant surprise by saying:
“What would you say, Ginevra, if I proposed your taking a journey to
Sicily with me?”