Always this supposition stupefied and terrified him. Sometimes he imagined a dramatic scene between his long lost mother and himself; sometimes it seemed that not one fibre in his heart would be moved. Oftener he felt frozen, watching Signora Obinu, pale and smiling, with her worn dark dress, always busy, always quiet, unconscious, insensible.
A veil fell between him and the phantasm which had tormented him. Instead of the violent scene he had imagined, dull conversations about nothings took place between him and his landlady, simple Aunt Varvara joining in.
Only a few minutes before starting for his holiday he finally decided to leave the whole matter in suspense till his return. He felt weary, defeated. The heat, the examinations, the fever, the fantasies had exhausted him. "I will rest," he thought, "I will sleep. I need forgetfulness and sleep if I am to recover myself. I mustn't turn into a neurasthenic! I will go up to my native mountains, to the wild and virgin Gennargentu How long I have intended that excursion! I will visit the robber's widow; my brother Zuanne; the son of the candlemaker; and the court of the convent and that carabiniere who sang—"
"'A te questo rosario.'"
Then the thought of again seeing Margherita, of kissing her and immersing himself in love as in a perfumed bath, gave him a felicity which took his breath away. He almost wanted to flee from this devouring joy; but, driven out of his mind, it still ran in his blood, vibrated with his nerves, and swelled his heart in delicious pain. As he was starting. Aunt Varvara brought him a small wax candle which he was to carry to the Basilica of the Martyrs at Fonni, and Signora Obinu gave him a medal blessed by the Holy Father.
"If you don't value it yourself, unbeliever, give it to your mother," she said smiling, and a little moved. "Good-bye, have a good journey and come back safe. I'll keep the room for you. Get on well, and send me a postcard at once."
"Good-bye!" said Anania, taking the medal; "commend me to the Holy Souls in Purgatory."
"Of course I will," she said, shaking her finger at him, "they will protect you from temptation."
"Amen; and to our happy reunion."
"Good-bye!" he called again from the bottom of the stair, and Maria, leaning over the bannister, saluted him with her hand. When he had reached the street he thought of going back to see if she were in tears, stopped for a moment, but went on followed by Aunt Varvara almost crying herself.