“Forgive me,” he whispered, with a sob in his throat.
“No,” she said.
And without more she locked the door behind her. He remained on his knees for another moment. Then he slowly rose to his feet. His throat hurt him. His shoulder felt as though it were dislocated.
“It’s over,” he muttered. “I am defeated. She is stronger now than I, but not because she is a devil. I have seen them together. I have seen their embrace. She is stronger, he is stronger than I ... because of their happiness. I feel that, because of their happiness, they will always be stronger than I....”
He went to his room, which adjoined Urania’s bedroom. His chest heaved with sobs. Dressed as he was, he flung himself sobbing on his bed, swallowing his sobs in the slumbering night that hung over the castle. Then he got up and looked out of the window. He saw the lake. He saw the pergola, where they had been fighting. The night was sleeping there; the caryatides, sleeping, stood out white against the shadow. And his eyes sought the exact spot of their struggle and of his defeat. And, with his superstitious faith in their happiness, he became convinced that there would be no fighting against it, ever.
Then he shrugged his shoulders, as if he were flinging a load off his back:
“Fa niente!” he said to console himself. “Domani megliore....”
And he meant that to-morrow he would achieve, if not this victory, another. Then, with eyes still moist, he fell asleep like a child.
CHAPTER XL
Urania sobbed nervously in Cornélie’s arms when she told the young princess that she was leaving that morning. She and Duco were alone with Urania in Urania’s own drawing-room.