Farewell Love!

tter r

as enough if he looked at me, with his big clear blue eyes, for speech to fail me. There is something in his silence

ing, though I could see that the courtesy with which he listened was ironical. Laura was present, taciturn and absent-minded as usual. She shrugged h

ttempt-I ought. I had promised it to you, my darling, and to myself. My life had become insupportable; the more so because of my sister, who knew my secret, who tor

I cared nothing, in spite of the gulf that divides a character like mine from that of Cesare Dias, I had the courage to tell him that I adored you, that I wished to live and die with you, that my fortune would

wn, giving no sign of interest. And now at

-real love for which people live and die! He denied that love was a thing not to be forgotten; denied that love is the only thing that makes life worth while. His one word was No-no, no, no, from the beginning to the end of our talk. He made the most specious, extravagant, and cynical arguments to convince me that I was deceiving myself, that we were deceiving ourselves, and that it was his duty to oppose himself to our folly. Oh, how I wept! How I abased my spiri

on who makes it,' he said severely, get

adn't left me broken-hearted, as if he didn't know that I was on my knees, in despair, calling upon the names of the

must fly. We must fly. Here, like this, I should die. Anything will be b

arriage, suspicion never leaves her. I know that I am throwing away a great deal for a dream of love. But that is my strange and cruel destiny-the destiny which has given me

am lonely and misunderstood; I am flying from ice and snow to the warm sunlight of love. You are the sun, you are my love. Don't think ill of me. I am not like other girls, girls who have a home, a family, a nest. I am a poor pilgrim, seeking a home, a family, a nest. I will be your wife, your sweetheart, your servant; I love you. A life pass

tation at Pompeii-that might arouse suspicions; but I shall be in the streets of the dead city, looking at the ruins. Find me there-come as swiftly as you can-to the Street of Tombs, leading to the Villa of Diomedes, near to the grave of Nevoleia Tyche, 'a sweet Pompeiian child,' according to her epitaph. We

n, which I can't explain to you. It would not do for us to meet here in town, the risk would be too great. But leaving for Pompeii by separate trains, how can any one suspec

two come to me at the grave of Nevoleia Tyche. Don't forget, for mercy's sake. If you shouldn't ar

? The word last is always sad, whenever it is spoken. Will you always love me, even though far from your country, even though poor, even though unhappy? You won't

now our wondrous future will begin-our life togeth

"A

wice through, slowly, slowly. Then his head fell upon his breast

Stella Martini, were seated in the middle of the church, with their eyes bent on their prayer-books. Stella Martini had a worn, sunken face, that must have once been delicately pretty, with that sort of prettiness which fades before thirty. Anna wore a dark serge frock, with a jacket in the English fashion; and her

the young

e said, standing still, holdin

her. With a light step she crossed

ow-white hair, asked his usual questions quietly, not surprised by the tr

nse of the simple words the priest addressed to her. Sometimes

d with some anxiety: "What

reat danger," she

would give him no details. He begged her to speak

threatened w

e thus and trifle with a sacrament of the church, to come to the co

nother time,"

into the street, where she hailed a cab, and bade the cabman drive to the railway station. She drew down the blinds of the carriage

viva, had abandoned for ever her home and her family, carrying away only so much of her fortune as the purse in her pocket could hold, to throw herself int

t and rigid in everything she had to do as an automaton. At the station she paid

turn?" inquir

," she

return ticket, the clerk thought he had to do w

cious of nothing save a great need to go on, to go on; nothing else. It was the first time in her life that she had been out alone like this, yet she felt no surprise. It seemed to her that she had been travelling alone for years; that Cesare Dias,

Pompeii,

is she was approaching; while before her eyes the blue Neapolitan coast was passing rapidly, where the wintry cold had given way to a warm scirocco. On, on, the morning train hurried her, over the land, by the sea, between the white houses of Portici, the pink houses of Torre del Greco, the houses, pink, white, and yellow, of Torre Annunziata-on, on. And Anna, motionless in her corner, gazing out of the wind

g villages had disappeared from the landscape; the blue sea, with its dancing white waves, had disappeared; she was crossing a wide, desolate plain; and the volcano, with its eternal wreath of smoke, rose before her. And also had disappeared for ever the phantasms of her happiness! Anna

i-a city of love, destroyed by fire, an everlasting reminder to those

stopped, and followed a family of Germans and

solitary young woman, with the warm, pale face, and the great brown-black eyes that gazed straight forward, without interest in what they saw, the eyes of a soul consumed by an emotion. Wh

If she could but see him, if she could but hear his

filled with a single wish-to see Giustino; he would give her strength; he was the reason for her life-he and love. She loo

une, where there are the deep marks of carriage wheels in the stone pavement; they entered houses and shops and squares; she looked at everything wi

angely fatigued; she had exhausted her forces in making the journey hither; the tumult of emotion she had gone through had prostrated her. Now she felt utterly alone and abandoned-a poo

She climbed to the top of the Amphitheatre, seeking to

hird time: "Now let us visit the Stre

o," she r

her hand, as the guide pointed out to her the magnificence of the Villa

s to fear any such infractions from this pale girl with the dreamy eyes. And he moved off, slowly, slowly, turning back every now and then to see what she was doing. She sat down on a stone in front of the tomb of the "sweet freed-woman," Nevoleia Tyche, and waited there, her hands in her lap, her head bent; nor did she look up when a party of

reed-woman. She looked up, and saw Giustino standing before h

ur mantled her cheeks. Giustino had never seen her so beautiful. In an ecstasy of joy, feeling all her doubts die within her, feeling

ve me-a gr

eat d

always car

way

carcely touched the earth, enjoying this minute of intense love with all the force of feeling that she possessed, with all the self-surrender of which human nature is capabl

ad answered simply, "Ye

, and taking his arms in her hands, looked deep int

mbled. He low

ng," h

e you s

he answered w

elling th

ling the

hat you

such sincerity and such pain that she was convin

bitterness in her joy. They were near the Stre

et us go away," sh

oesn't leave till six o'cl

ant to stay here any longe

gymen seated themselves at the table which is always laid in the chief room of the inn, and while they ate their dinner one of them read his Bible, the other his Baedeker. The two lovers were near the window, looking through the glass at the road that leads to the station; and Anna was ho

gan, whispering i

do you

re else, where I can

ft the room to speak to the landlord;

are we

sta

sta

will

f an apartment consisting of a bedroom and sitting-room-a big bedroom, a tiny sitting-room-b

was pale, sil

The thought of the many strangers who had inhabited it inspired her with a sort of shame. Then she glanced into the bedroom. It was very large, with two beds at the farther end, a dr

she noticed anew that he was gazing at

he matter?

sat down and buried

he insisted, trembling

Perhaps he was weepi

what it is, I'll go ba

d not

because I have

a," he m

l-you think of me as a

ear on

u-love anot

n't thi

ave-another ti

am bound

mised yoursel

no o

is I who ought to weep and tremble, and yet I don't weep unless

cause of you, on your account-in thinking of what I have allowed you to do, of how you are throwing away yo

uldn't think these thing

same to-day. Though you are the light of my life, I must say it to you. To-day I can't forgive myself; to-morrow you will be unable to forg

oul bowed down by remorse. She looked at him and listened to him with stupefaction, amazed at thi

derstand yo

e, you will hate me. You must try, with all your heart, with all your mind, to understand.

can

he said i

reflect, to understand. And always, always, she had the same feeling, the same idea, and she could not help trying to express it in

n't love you enou

mpeii, the whole world appeared to go whirling round her dizzily. She had a feeli

ong pause, in a broken voice-"a

ed you," he mu

ven't l

everything else. I h

What was the

n't see this danger. I didn't dream that you would wish to give u

e essential is, y

loved, as you deser

ithout blin

blind p

out fire, with

re, without

with

, with affection

d monotonously, as if talking in her sleep. "Don't

don't k

can? Perhaps you can to-

a. I shall always pre

re," she murmured

heaven, as if seeking stren

, "if we were to live toge

sight of your unhappiness, of which

l, t

u to say wha

le, she could not bear to give it shape in speech. She looked at him-at this man who, to save her, inflicted such inexpressible pain upon her. And he understood that Anna could n

e that day she had looked at the same silent landscape; but in the morning, when she was alone, waiting, thrilling with hope, and again, only an hour ago, leaning on Giustino'

uddenly Anna seized him by the shoulders, forced him to raise his head, and b

erywhere, as I looked for you, feeling that the world would be colourless without love. And your letters bore the imprint of a great tenderness. But that is love, true love, passionate love, which isn't forgotten in a day or in a year, for which a whol

ge leaving him under

for you yourself will be as miserable as I. Giustino, you will kill me; if you leave me here, I shall kill mys

erves, a man's senses, a man's heart; and he loved her ardently. But when again she begged h

I cannot," he sa

u wish m

re young. You will li

r me, Giustino.

not deat

from him. "You speak like a sceptic who has neither

me; but yo

u in an hotel. I am dishonoured, dishonoured, coward that you are. You can go home quietly, hav

e nothing wrong. They know that you have done it in response to a genero

ho tol

I

he

morn

did you

ster and yo

come to

went to

you agree upon

d come here a

d t

should l

he

was ready to com

g was wonderfully well combined. I am to return home with Cesare Dias as if I had made a harmless little excursion, and what's done is done. You're right, of course; Cesare Dias is right; Laura Acquaviva, who has never loved and who despises those who love, Laura is right; you are all right. I alone am wrong. Oh, the laughable adventure! To attempt an elopement, and to fail in it, be

on't send me a

in which you have behaved

't part l

erly separated. We have alw

your good. Now you send me away. Afterwards you will

know you.

ill you do

t concern yo

it for Ces

and throw myself from the balcony," she said

-bye,

od-

. She leaned from the window and saw the shadow of a man issue from the door of the inn-it was Giustino. He stood still for a moment, and then turned into the high road that leads to Pompeii from Tor

biting its cushions to keep herself from screaming. Her head wa

s, at the next, burning with scorn as a great lady offended in her pride; or again, blushing with shame as she thought of the imminent arrival of Cesare Dia

ervant brough

you mean to stay th

N

eady left. You can go back by way

coming for

ant left

ard her name cal

ore Cesare Dias, sobbing:

n his voice, murmur

ouse, she said to her sis

nna."