At long intervals there comes a pause
in my torment, as when the wild elements of the tempest hold their
breath for a moment, only to break forth again with redoubled fury. I
sit then in a kind of stupor, with heavy head and my limbs feeling as
bruised and tired as if I had been beaten, and while my pain gathers
itself up for a fresh onslaught, I do not succeed in collecting
sufficient strength to resist it.
'What does she think of me? What does she think? How much does she know?
'Oh, to be misjudged by her--my best, my dearest friend--the one to
whom I have always been able to open my heart! This is my crowning
grief, my bitterest trial--
'I must speak to her before I go. She must know all from me, I must know
all from her--that is only right and just.
'Night. About five o'clock she proposed a drive along the Rovigliano
road. We two went alone in the open carriage. I was trembling with
agitation as I said to myself--"Here is my opportunity for speaking to
her." But my nervousness deprived me of every vestige of courage. Did
she expect me to confide in her? I cannot tell.
'We sat silent for a long while, listening to the steady trot of the
horses, looking at the trees and the meadows by the side of the road.
From time to time, by a brief remark or a sign, she drew my attention to
some detail of the autumnal landscape.
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