His voice changed a little, and he added, 'But perhaps you will not believe that of me? perhaps you will never believe any good of me again?'
She seemed scarcely to understand what it was he said.
'Dino!'
She stretched out both hands with a sob. It was like the cry of a frightened child for mercy. 'Dino, take me back, take me with you. I must be with you. It doesn't matter about all the rest.'
She threw herself into his arms, pressing her cheek against his, clasping his hands closer about her neck; speaking in short hurried sentences, her soft voice broken with sobs.
'Dino—it could not be again, you know. The dear Madonna would not let you go away from me again. Because, you know, my Dino, I could not bear it. I could not. And no one is expected to do what is impossible. It isn't that I'm not willing, Dino. I would do anything you told me to, anything. But if you asked me to lift a weight that was too heavy for me, I might want to do it, but I could not do it, could I? I should not be strong enough. And I am not strong enough for this—I am not strong enough.'
She kept her face buried on his arm as if she were trying to hide away from what she dreaded. 'Dino. It is such a happy world, dear. I could be so happy. See! even if you had to give up something, some ideas that you care for. My father says all young men have ideas about—about politics and all that—which they change as they get older. And even if you do not change. What does it matter? what does any of the rest of it matter? Dino——!'
He had his arm about her; he could feel her shaking from head to foot with heavy passionate sobs.
'Italia,' he said, 'stop crying. My dear. My poor, poor little child. I can't stand this. Right or wrong, I cannot stand it. It is too much to ask of me. Valdez may do what he pleases, I——' He bent his head and pressed his lips fervently upon her warm loosened hair. 'Italia, I had promised. I had sworn to do something. But I break my oath. Look! I give it all up—for your sake. Look at me, Italia. They will call me a traitor; but I shall not have betrayed you.'
Poor little Italia! She was very weary. She could not speak for many minutes the choking sobs would force themselves out despite all her efforts to conquer them. She let herself rest passively in his arms, while he called her by every tender name he could devise. But presently the tears were fewer; she checked herself; she lifted up her head and looked at him; her eyes were full of love, but the far-away look in them meant even more than that; they were shining with the enthusiasm of high resolve.