“You ought to. She has suffered for you. She doesn’t deserve to suffer. She is good, they say; I don’t know. Anyhow, she has suffered. Since your heart is empty, and your spirit has no goal, since your soul has no pasture, fill your heart with charity towards a sufferer, give an affectionate scope to your existence, create a pleasing duty of reparation, and heal the wounds you have made by marrying Vittoria Casalta.”
Maria spoke in a low voice, slowly, but suggestively and persuasively. Marco’s face grew paler and his lips were white. He recognised that an immense effort was uplifting her courage to say all that she was saying, and he regarded her with profound admiration as he touched her hand lightly to kiss it, which he did almost timorously. A cry escaped his breast.
“Maria, I can’t be happy with Vittoria Casalta.”
“You can’t be; that is true. You have been happy, too happy perhaps. You can’t be happy again. And what does it matter? Content yourself in giving happiness to her who has suffered so much for you. That is a great deal.”
“You want too much from life, Marco,” she said, shaking her head; “you must give something instead. Vittoria Casalta has suffered secret torture for three years. You ought to marry her to sweeten her existence and render her happiness.”
He became silent and thoughtful, and she, who was used to reading almost the ideas of his mind on his forehead, saw the doubt there.
“Vittoria desires nothing else but to pardon you and open her arms to you, Marco.”
He looked at her, but did not reply. An almost definite silence fell between them. This part of their conversation was concluded. It seemed as if there was nothing else to be said; that they understood each other. Marco was the first to express this feeling.
She shrugged her shoulders in an act of complete indifference, and did not reply.
“Will you return willingly, Maria?” he exclaimed sorrowfully, but without a trace of anger in his voice.
“Not willingly. I am going to return because I ought to.”
“Won’t you suffer in returning? Tell me, Maria.”
“I shall suffer, that is true,” she declared precisely, “but I ought to suffer, it seems. I have been intoxicated with happiness and liberty, my friend. One pays for such things. Here I am ready to pay.”