IWALKEDbacktomyhouse.Itwasverysilent,andasIpassedupthestairstheservantsshrunkbackwithavertedfaces,asiftheywereafraidtolookatme.
'WhereisFabio?'Iasked.
Apagewhisperedtimidly,—
'Inthechapel.'
Iturnedonmyheel,andpassedthroughtherooms,oneafteranother,tillIcametothechapeldoor.Ipusheditopenandentered.Adimlightcamethroughthepaintedwindows,andIcouldhardlysee.Inthecentreweretwobodiescoveredwithacloth,andtheirheadswerelightedbytheyellowgleamofcandles.Attheirfeetkneltanoldman,praying.ItwasFabio.
IadvancedanddrewbacktheclothandIfellonmyknees.Giulialookedasifsheweresleeping.Ihadsooftenleantoverher,watchingtheregularheavingofthebreast,andsometimesIhadthoughtherfeaturesascalmandrelaxedasifsheweredead.Butnowthebreastwouldnomoreriseandfall,anditswonderfulsoftwhitenesswasdisfiguredbyagapingwound.Hereyeswereclosedandherlipshalfparted,andtheonlydifferencefromlifewasthefallenjaw.Herfacewasverypaletherichwavinghairencircleditaswithanaureole.
Ilookedathim,andhe,too,waspale,andhisfairhaircontrastedwonderfullywithhers.Helookedsoyoung!
Then,asIkneltthere,andthehourspassedslowly,Ithoughtofallthathadhappened,andItriedtounderstand.Thedimlightfromthewindowgraduallyfailed,andthecandlesinthedarknessburntoutmorebrightlyeachwassurroundedbyahalooflight,andlitupthedeadfaces,throwingintodeepernighttherestofthechapel.
LittlebylittleIseemedtoseeintotheloveofthesetwowhichhadbeensostrong,thatnotiesofhonour,faith,ortruthhadbeenabletoinfluenceit.AndthisiswhatIimagined,tryingtoconsolemyself.
Whenshewassixteen,Ithought,theymarriedhertoanoldmanshehadneverseen,andshemetherhusband'scousin,aboynoolderthanherself.Andthelovestartedandworkeditsway.Buttheboylivedonhisrichcousin'scharityfromhimhehadreceivedahomeandprotectionandathousandkindnesseshelovedagainsthiswill,buthelovedallthesame.Andshe,Ithought,hadlovedlikeawoman,passionately,thoughtlessofhonourandtruth.Inthesensualviolenceofherloveshehadcarriedhimaway,andhehadyielded.Thenwithenjoymenthadcom