'I should so much like to.' I felt as if indeed it would relieve me to
be able to confide in somebody, I wanted sympathy so badly.
He passed his hand gently over my hair.
I hesitated a little, but I could not help myself, and I told him the
whole story from beginning to end.
'Poverino!' he said, when I had finished; then, clenching his teeth,
'She is a beast, that woman!'
'I ought to have taken your warning, Matteo, but I was a fool.'
'Who ever does take warning!' he answered, shrugging his shoulders. 'How
could you be expected to believe me?'
'But I believe you now. I am horrified when I think of her vice and
cruelty.'
'Ah, well, it is over now.'
'Quite! I hate her and despise her. Oh, I wish I could get her face to
face and tell her what I think of her.'
I thought my talk with Matteo had relieved me, I thought the worst was
over; but at night melancholy came on me stronger than ever, and I
groaned as I threw myself on my bed. I felt so terribly alone in the
world.... I had no relation but a half-brother, a boy of twelve, whom I
had hardly seen; and as I wandered through the land, an exile, I had
been continually assailed by the hateful demon of loneliness. And
sometimes in my solitude I had felt that I could kill myself. But when
I found I was in love with Giulia, I cried aloud with joy.... I threw
everything to the winds, gathering myself up for the supreme effort of
passion. All the storm and stress were passed; I was no longer alone,
for I had someone to whom I could give my love. I was like the ship that
arrives in the harbour, and reefs her sails and clears her deck,
settling down in the quietness of the waters.
And now all was over! Oh God, to think that my hopes should be shattered
in so short a time, that the ship should be so soon tossed about in the
storm, and the stars hidden by the clouds! And the past delight made the
present darkness all the more bitter. I groaned. In my misery I uttered
a prayer to God to help me. I could not think I should live henceforth.
How could I go on existing with this aching void in my heart? I could
not spend days and weeks and years always with this despair. It was too
terrible to last. My reason told me that time would remedy it; but time
was so long, and what misery must I go through before the wound was
healed! And as I thought of what I had lost, my agony grew more
unbearable. It grew vivid, and I felt Giulia in my arms. I panted as I
pressed my lips against hers, and I said to her,--
'How could you!'
I buried my face in my hands, so as better to enjoy my dream. I smelt
the perfume of her breath; I felt on my face the light touch of her
hair. But it would not last. I tried to seize the image and hold it
back, but it vanished and left me broken-hearted....
I knew I did not hate her. I had pretended to, but the words came from
the mouth. In my heart I loved her still, more passionately than ever.
What did I care if she was heartless and cruel and faithless and
vicious! It was nothing to me as long as I could hold her in my arms and
cover her with kisses. I did despise her; I knew her for what she was,
but still I loved her insanely. Oh, if she would only come back to me! I
would willingly forget everything and forgive her. Nay, I would ask her
forgiveness and grovel before her, if she would only let me enjoy her
love again.
I would go back to her and fall on my knees, and pray her to be
merciful. Why should I suppose she had changed in the few days. I knew
she would treat me with the same indifference, and only feel a wondering
contempt that I should so abase myself. It came like a blow in the face,
the thought of her cold cruelty and her calmness. No, I vowed I would
never subject myself to that again. I felt myself blush at the
remembrance of the humiliation. But perhaps she was sorry for what she
had done. I knew her pride would prevent her from coming or sending to
me, and should I give her no opportunity? Perhaps, if we saw one another
for a few moments everything might be arranged, and I might be happy
again. An immense feeling of hope filled me. I thought I must be right
in my idea; she could not be so heartless as to have no regret. How
willingly I would take her back! My heart leaped. But I dared not go to
her house. I knew I should find her on the morrow at her father's, who
was going to give a banquet to some friends. I would speak to her there,
casually, as if we were ordinary acquaintances; and then at the first
sign of yielding on her part, even if I saw but a tinge of regret in her
eyes, I would burst out. I was happy in my plan, and I went to sleep
with the name of Giulia on my lips and her image in my heart.