“Don’t you think I ought to go home when I feel like this?”
“Yes; I think so.”
“I am a goose, I know. I cannot rely upon myself, as you see, but you can be certain of one thing: if I had been false to Lennart, I would go straight to him and tell him, and kill myself the same instant before his eyes.”
“Do you love your husband?” asked Jenny.
Francesca was silent a moment.
“I don’t know. If I loved him really as one ought to love, I suppose I should not be afraid of Hans Hermann. Do you think I should have let Hans behave like he did and kiss me?
“But I know, anyhow, that if I did wrong to Lennart I could not go on living. You understand, don’t you? While I was Francesca Jahrman I was not very careful about my good name, but now I am Francesca Ahlin, and if I let fall the very faintest shadow of a suspicion on that name—his name—I should deserve to be shot down like a mad dog. Lennart would not do it, but I would do it myself.”
She dropped her arms suddenly and crept into the bed, nestling close to Jenny.
“You believe in me, don’t you? Do you think I could live if I had done anything dishonourable?”
“No, Cesca.” Jenny put her arms round her and kissed her. “I don’t think you could.”
“I don’t know what Lennart thinks; he does not understand me. When I get home I will tell him everything just as it is, and leave it to him.”
“Cesca,” said Jenny, but checked herself. She would not ask, after all, if she was happy. But Cesca began to tell by herself:
“I have had many difficulties since I married, I must tell you, and I have not been very happy, but then I was so foolish and ignorant in many ways.
“I married Lennart because Hans began to write to me when he was divorced, saying that he was determined to have me, and I was afraid of him and did not want to have anything to do with him. I told Lennart everything; he was so kind and sympathetic and understood me, and I thought he was the most wonderful man in the world—and so he is, I know.
“But I did something awful. Lennart cannot understand it, and I know that he has not forgiven me. Perhaps I am wrong in telling you, but I must ask somebody if it is really so that a man can never forgive it, and you must answer me frankly—tell me if you think that it is impossible ever to get over it.
“We went to Rocca di Papa in the afternoon when we were married. You know how dreadfully afraid I have always been of marriage, and when Lennart took me into our room in the evening, I began to cry. Lennart was such a dear to me.
“This was on a Saturday. We did not have a particularly pleasant time—I mean Lennart did not, for I would have been delighted to be married like that, and every morning when I awoke I was so grateful to him, but I was scarcely allowed to kiss my husband.
“On the Wednesday we had gone to the top of Monte Cavo, and it was marvellously beautiful up there. It was in the end of May and the day was glorious. The chestnut wood was light green, the leaves had just come out, the broom was blossoming madly in the crevices, and along the road grew heaps of white flowers and lilies. There was a haze in the air, for it had rained earlier in the day, and the Nemi and Albano lakes were lying silvery white below, with all the little white villages round. The whole Campagna and Rome were wrapped in a thin veil of mist, and farther out the Mediterranean shone like a golden line on the horizon.
“Oh, it was such a day! And life seemed wonderfully beautiful to me—but Lennart was sad. To me he was the most perfect man in the world, and I was immensely fond of him. All of a sudden it seemed so silly of me to make a fuss, and I put my arms round his neck and said: ‘I want to be yours, for I love you.’ ”
Cesca was silent a second, taking a deep breath.
“Oh, Jenny—how happy he was, poor boy!” She swallowed her tears. “He was so pleased. ‘Now?’ said he—‘here?’ and took me in his arms, but I resisted. I don’t know really why I did it. It would have been beautiful in the deep forest and the sunshine.
“He rushed out and stayed away all night. I lay awake. I was anxious, wondering what he had done, where he had gone. Next day we went back to Rome and stayed at an hotel. Lennart had taken two rooms. I went to him in his room—but there was no beauty in it. We have never been quite happy since. I know that I have offended him frightfully, but tell me, Jenny, if you think it a thing a man never can forget or forgive?”
“He ought to have realized afterwards that you did not
