But Regina only shook her head, and turned away. She knew that she was right, and that he knew it too, or would know it soon.
"You will never see him again," he said. "Forget that you have seen him at all!"
Again she shook her head, not looking at him.
"You will not forget," she answered, "and I shall always remember. He should have killed me, as he meant to do. It would have been the end. It would have been better, and quicker."
"God forbid!"
"Why? Would it not have been better?"
She came close to him and laid one hand upon his shoulder and gazed into his eyes. They were full of trouble and pain, and they did not lighten for her; his brow did not relax and his lips did not part. After a little while she turned again and went back to the fireplace.
"It would have been better," she said in a low voice. "I knew it this morning."
There was silence in the room for a while. Marcello stood beside her, holding her hand in his, and trying to see her face. He was very tender with her, but there was no thrill in his touch. Something was gone that would never come back.
"When all this trouble is over," he said at last, "you shall go back to the little house in Trastevere, and it will be just as it was before."