“With that desire. If not, I shouldn’t have married him; if not, I shouldn’t have forgiven his betrayal.”
“You pardoned, then, conditionally? With selfish intent? With a selfish desire? Not as a Christian?”
“No, mother, not as a Christian. I pardoned him as a woman, as a woman in love; that is, imperfectly, badly.”
“Then the sin is yours, Vittoria.”
“Yes, it is mine. If I question my heart it seems I am right, if I question my conscience I am wrong and the sin is mine. Don’t you see? I am childless. God has punished me; I shall never be a mother, never, never.”
“What will you do, Vittoria? What do you want to do?”
“Nothing, mother. I have nothing to do on this earth, neither for myself nor others. I go on living here because suicide is a great sin. I shall go on living here, forgotten, in a corner as usual, like everybody who hasn’t known how to do right in life. I am wrong, mother, I am wrong. That is why I don’t complain, that is why I mustn’t complain. Why did you make me speak? Forget all I have told you, and repeat it to nobody. Don’t expose me again to the pity of anybody: your pity, mother, yes; but nobody else’s.”
She looked at her with such an expression of suffering, nobly born, with such desire of silence and respect for her suffering, that Donna Arduina was deeply moved.
“Mother, let me be forgotten in a corner. Promise me you will say nothing.”
“I promise you, my daughter, I promise you; still I deeply sympathise with you,” said Donna Arduina, with a big sigh.