Farewell Love!

let fever, alternating between delirium and stupor, and always moaning in her pa

eached its crisis, and then, lit

r youth. Thus a valorous warrior survives the battle indeed, but returns to his friends t

support the weight of her thick black hair. Stella Martini tried very patiently to comb it so gently that Anna should not have to move,

cifissa would ask her: "What is it; what can we do for you?" Anna would answer wi

great doctor Antonio Amati had said also. "Let her do wh

did not even try to speak comforting words to her. Perhaps it was not so mu

Francesco had died five years after the birth of her second daughter, Laura, who resembled her closely: and thereupon her husband had proceeded to shorten his own life by throwing himself into every form of worldly dissipation. The two children, growing up in the house, motherless in the midst of profuse luxury, could exert no restraining influence upon their father, who seemed bent upon

, a man who, of all things, had least desired to have a family, who spent the whole of his income upon himself, who hated sentiment, who had no ideal of friendship. Cesare Dias, a man without tenderness, without affection, without sympathy, was the guardian of two young girls. He was this by the freak

ll soon be

" he murmur

he saw obscurely in a looking-glass a face that distantly resembled his own: a faint admiration which was really but reflex admiration of himself. The character of Anna, on the c

indifferent than elsewhere; merciless for all h

is man, who perhaps had good reasons-reasons born of suffering-for the contempt with which he regarded his fellow-beings; and sometimes Dias told himself that it was ridiculous to be angry

lders, murmuring, "Rhetoric!" He deemed it wiser not to speak to her about the matter, for he knew that the flame

world, and thought his trouble ended when he saw the young man go away, pale and resigned. "Rhetoric, rhetoric!" was his mental commentary; and he had a t

ration; criticism cannot explain genius; and no more

on. He was a man of few words, a man of action, but now he was staggered, nonplussed. A child who could play her reputation and her future like this, inspired him with a sort of vague respect, a respect for the power that moved her. Ah, there was a convulsion in the soul of Cesare Dias, the man of fixed ideas and easy aphorism

what faith her dead father, Francesco Acquaviva, had had in him, in his wisdom, in his affection! Anna, who had hitherto inspired him only with that disdain which practical men feel for sentimentalists, now moved him to compassion, as a defenceless being exposed to all the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. And during his drive from Naples to Pompeii he promised himself that he would be very kind to her, ve

aura-silent, thoughtful, with her dreamy grey eyes, her placid face-nursed Anna through her fever with quiet sisterly devotion. Cesare Dias called every morning, entering the room on tiptoe, inquiring with a glance how the sufferer was doing, then seating himself at a distance from the bed

nd go away, to come again in the afternoon, and sti

uld meet him in the sitting-room;

eems t

been asle

think she has

said an

a w

atch with he

I

wear you

, n

e passed be

d eaten, or the amusements that awaited him, Cesare Dias was still a handsome man; his dull eyes shone with some of their forgotten brightness; his cheeks had a little colour in them; and his smooth black hair gave him almost an appearance of youth. One who had seen him in the

ce got back her strength. Anna was completely prostrated, passing the entire day without moving, her arms stretched out at full length, her hands pale and cold, her face turned on the side, her two rich plaits of blac

o you

tte

ish for a

thi

othing you

tha

e would be said by those round her, but Anna knew that they were

th such an eager prayer for pardon, in her sad dark eyes, that words were not necessary to tell what she felt. Soon afterwards she seemed to wish to be left alone with Dias, as if she had a secret to c

ste

lack eyes were again beseeching

thought-what must

te yourself, my de

wicked," s

nna; you were guilty of nothi

n, a

not let your imagination get the better of you,"

ish," she said, humbl

ith the shadow of a smile, "calm yours

the room, and her prese

irgin at her bedside, Anna saw the big grey eyes of Laura gazing at her inquiringly;

ood; you d

't excite

, but you are my sister.

judge y

a, La

uiet,

h her hand she gently caressed her sist

of contrition, seemed to become more and more constant

, disturbed in spirit, and miserable in thinking of her past, its deceits, its errors, its thousand shameful aberrations, its lack of maidenly decorum-and for whom? for whom? For a fool, a simpleton, a fellow who had neither heart nor courage, who had never loved her, who was cruel and inept. When she drew a mental comparison between Giustino Morelli and these two persons whom she had wished to desert for him-between Giusti

nd then at the sound of her own voice she would be so moved that she would weep; and

lutely obedient to whatever her guardian

cruelly forgotten on the day of her mad adventure; in her convalescence she foun

e guided and controlled by them. So, whenever they spoke to her, whenever they asked for her opinion-whether a window should be opened or closed, whether a bouquet of flowers should be left in the roo

gested, Laura the pure, the impeccable, who had never had the weakness to fall in love, who would die rather than be wanting to her ideal of herself. "Yes" even to whatever her poor governess, Stella Martini, suggested; Stella so kind, so faithful, whom in the past she had so

tely nothing to do, for visits are not in order till four. The girls waited for him every afternoon; Laura with her appearance of being above all earthly trifles, showing neither curiosity nor eagerness; Anna with a secret anxiety because he would bring her a sense of calmness and strength, a breath of the world's air, and especially because he seemed so firm, so imperturbable, that she found it restorati

moved in, at its pleasures, at its people, burlesquing and ca

with an indescribable

amidst inferior surroundings, and who adapted himself to them without losing any of his nobler qualities. She told herself that his was a great soul that had been born too soon, perhaps too late; he was immeasurably above his times, yet with quiet fortitude he took them in good part. When he displayed his scorn for all human ambitions, speaking of how transitory everything pertaining to this world is in its nature; when he derided human folly and human beings who in the

-room, or to walk out with Stella Martini. She could always find some pretext for taking herself off. She was a reserved, silent girl, who knew neither how to

he matter

," Anna answered, with the feeling she

ys, therefore, when Anna allowed her soul to vibrate in her voice, Cesare Dias, naturally serious and composed enough, seemed to become more serious, more austere; his eye hardened into glass, and Anna felt that she had displeased him. She knew that she displeased him as often as anything in her manner could recall that wild adventure which had sullied the innocence of her girlh

onscious that by her timidity

gible," he murmured, sha

p it," she besought him

it. You should be strong enough to govern yourself

ill

r near the window, through which entered the soft spring air; and when she saw Laura and Stella come into the house-Laura dressed in white, breathing peace and youth from every line of her figure-Stella

, buried her lips in them, and said under her voice: "Thank you, thank you,"

rapt contemplation over her flowers, her great fo

me these flowers," she s

em," he s

re so fresh and fragrant. I hope y

of her last phrase

t, in spite of her illness, in spite of her repentance, she was ever the same Anna Acquaviva who had once flown fr

rose?" she asked

N

y n

don't care

button-hole when you go into soc

their way; but I assure you I have never had the wea

ng, I said

reat many things a girl shouldn't say, lest, if she begins by saying th

pon a time, six months ago for instance, she would have endured such a reproof from no one, such a bitter reference to her past; she would have retorted hotly, especially if the speaker had been Cesare Dias. But now! So weak

true,"

ithin her, as if she had renounced some preciou

cleared. He ha

ric, I assure you, you displease me greatly. How ridiculous if life were to be passed in saying of people, houses, landscapes, flowers, 'I adore them!' Don't you see what

e, I ent

de towards life, though a generous one if you like, is not a

are r

es and others miserable, whereas our duty is to be as happy and to ma

ht. You are

better to be arid than to be rhetorical, better to be silent than to speak out eve

ight, alwa

ou know wha

know what i

h is serious and absu

wer; she was si

r rank or condition, is bound to be honest, well-behaved, worthy and proper; because if one is rich and noble it

to him eagerly; he saw that

relli--" he

er hands to her temples, he

elli--" he re

sake, don't

hear her. He wished to go to the bottom

erson, an honest

," said Anna, in a low voic

an. You ought to believe

r, ne

o him justice. He might have issued from his obscurity; he might have

, n

the same thing; because he could not endure the accusation of having seduced a young girl for her fortune; because he was not willing to let you suffer, as for some years, at any rate, you would have had to suffer, from poverty and obscurity, he renounced you. Do you understand? H

ented wit

e, by a passion, to quote what you yourself have said. You would brush aside all obstacles; and you would run th

d only answer by a gesture,

time, it's a trifl

unk at every fountain, who was always bored and always curious; it was he who

ssed swindlers, of thieving bankers. All of them in turn are judges and criminals. All appearances are deceitful; all faces lie. If by chance there turns up a man who seems really ho

is is true?" c

ngs hidden; one must wear a mask; one must take other men and

happy or

felt that when it was answered her soul's point

e weak are miserable. Onl

devotion, for tenderness, for enthusiasm; a great melancholy at the thought that she would never thrill with them again, that she would never weep again. She felt a great indefinable longing, not for the past, not for the present, not for the future, a longing that related itself to nothing. And she realised that what Cesare Dias had said was true-horribly, dreadfully, certainly true. She could be sure of nothing after this, she

e everything nobly and generously for the sake of love, or to save appe

strong?"

he as

you happy

As happy as

ked: "Have you a

as did no

me, have you al

he past matt

e you ev

lost; the person who wants to k

d it to him. He took it and

Acquaviva entered th