“In the morning he came in.
“With the mien of a youthful page, he doffed his hat to the ground in a courtly bow, and stood motionless in my presence, humble, clasping his hands: then, in a soft sweet voice somewhat broken by emotion, he said, in an accent of dismay:
“ ‘Ah! my lady, I am afraid, greatly afraid!’
“I did not rush to welcome him, nor did I cry out aloud: I felt too weak for any display of joy. But at that first instant, in the sole knowledge that he was living, an infinite intensity of quiet and fathomless and endless bliss flooded my heart: and I was minded to exclaim, like Mary Magdalene at the Sepulchre, ‘Rabboni: which is to say, Master!’
“And then up rose the sun!
“He had never before appeared so admirable to me, as in that attitude of a page of Medieval times, and with the playful humility of his bright smile; he had never yet been so loved by me, so dear beyond all measure. No, I had never been so glad in all my life as in this one short instant of consolation!
“And yet they say that women have intuitive minds!
“I was as it were caught and suspended in an aerial cobweb that stretched over an abyss of waters; and there I gazed upon the golden glitter of the morning landscape now that the tempest was over—gazed into the blue and shimmering stillness. Beneath me, under the bridge of hanging gossamer, rolled the sombre sea of dread and death; before me rose the sea of life, crimson and bloodred in hue. But I—I saw nothing there, save the dawn and the sunshine.”
Here she broke off, closed her eyes, and, resting her head on the arm of her easy-chair, remained some time plunged in the contemplation of that past scenery, all azure and gold. I let her rest so for a while, and then, rousing her:
“Well, and what then?” said I.
She knit her brows slightly.
“Then, ah! then! It was a mere idle question, for I troubled about nothing now that I had him again; but I asked him what he had been doing all night.
“ ‘Oh, but I am in fear, in such fear of you,’ he said, smiling, kneeling down before me, and clasping his hand—so! You know the gesture well; it is almost the embodiment of childlike humility.
“ ‘Oh, what?’
“ ‘I want you to promise you will not be angry with me.’
“I was suddenly torn with a sharp misgiving.
“ ‘No, do not tell me, Witold,’ I whispered.
“But he was unable to conceal anything from me. All he said in excuse was that I ought to pardon everything, by reason of his great love; that no woman could ever snatch from me the place which I held in his heart. That he had not been truly unfaithful, since his true and only love had always been with me; I was the only woman that his soul loved, and not his senses. … It is ever the same: stretch out your hands for life, and Death will come to you!”
“And what did you do?”
“In the first moments I did not understand all. He again and again said he loved me a hundred times more than ever before; I was the only woman, so pure, so ideal … and I could not make out what he meant. But my hands, when touched by his lips, grew cold as ice.
“He was frightened, and tried to soothe me; said he would never do it any more; it was not properly his fault, he had been overtaken with wine: and besides, she—she was indeed most beautiful.
“At the bare memory, I saw his eyes flash bright. Oh, he is a connoisseur in women!
“And then, at last, I understood it all; and I thought (believe me, with the utmost sincerity): ‘Why, rather than this, has he not been drowned in the depths of the sea?’
“A mist came before my eyes: I rubbed them to see clear. Then a sudden pain clutched at my heart and made me writhe with torture. I fainted; when I came to, I was seized with fits of hysteria. In short, I made all the scenes that the typical ‘injured wife’ is wont to make.
“Then, at the time when George came, I was dangerously ill. Witold did not admit that he had done me wrong, nor did he come near me all the time. Later, he justified himself by saying that he could have been of no use, and was himself far too sensitive to bear the sight of suffering.
“Finally, when all danger was over, and Orcio was making the house ring with the noise he made, there was the same night over again; and he was again ‘a little flushed with wine,’ and ‘guilty of no offense’; again I was ‘his only love.’ And later, the same scene was repeated over and over, and at shorter intervals. And this day … it is just as usual. …
“And now I am looking into the very bottom of my soul. Have you ever seen it? An open
