Mario seized Giulietta by the body, and threw her into the sea.
The girl uttered a cry and made a splash; a sailor seized her by the arm, and dragged her into the boat.
The boy remained at the vessel’s side, with his head held high, his hair streaming in the wind,—motionless, tranquil, sublime.
The boat moved off just in time to escape the whirlpool which the vessel produced as it sank, and which threatened to overturn it.
Then the girl, who had remained senseless until that moment, raised her eyes to the boy, and burst into a storm of tears.
“Good by, Mario!” she cried, amid her sobs, with her arms outstretched towards him. “Good by! Good by! Good by!”
“Good by!” replied the boy, raising his hand on high.
The boat went swiftly away across the troubled sea, beneath the dark sky. No one on board the vessel shouted any longer. The water was already lapping the edge of the deck.
Suddenly the boy fell on his knees, with his hands folded and his eyes raised to heaven.
The girl covered her face.