The nun heard him, raised her head and turned; his suffering was visible and appalling to see. But she found speech to soothe it.
'You did not mean to say it, when you brought me here.' She was prompting him gently.
'No.' He almost whispered the one word, and then he regretted it. 'I hardly know what I meant to say,' he went on more firmly, 'but I know what I meant to accomplish. That is the truth, such as it is. I saw this afternoon that I should never persuade you to ask for your freedom unless I could talk to you alone where you must hear me; the chance came unexpectedly and I took it, for it would never have come again. I had no other place, I had not thought of what I should say, but I was ready to risk everything, all for all--as I have done----'
'You have, indeed,' the nun said slowly, while he hesitated.
'And I have failed. Forgive me if you can. It was for love of you and for your sake.'
'For my sake, you should be true and brave and kind,' answered the Sister. 'But you ask forgiveness, and I forgive you, and I will try to forget, too. If I cannot do that, I can at least believe that you were mad, for no man in his senses would think of doing what you threatened! If you wish to live so that I may tell God in my prayers that I would have been your wife if I could, and that I hope to meet you in heaven--then, for my sake, be a man, and not a weakling willing to stoop to the most contemptible villainy to cheat a woman. Your brother was nearly killed in doing his duty here and you have taken his place. Make it your true calling, as I have made it mine to nurse the sick. At any moment, either of us may be called to face danger, till we die; we can feel that we are living the same life, for the same hope. Is that nothing?'
'Why not, if we risk it that others may be safe?'
'And in the same hope? Ah no, Angela! That is where it all breaks down!'
'No. You will live to believe it is there that all begins. Now let me go.'
Severi shook his head sadly; she was so unapproachably good, he thought--what chance had a mere man like himself of really understanding her splendid, saintly delusion?
Pica had turned the key on the outside and had taken it out, obeying his orders; but Giovanni had another like it in his pocket and now unlocked and opened the door. The nun went out, drawing her black hood quite over her head so that it concealed her face, and Giovanni followed her downstairs and held an umbrella over her while she got into the carriage, for it was still raining.