“It is not our fault if the knot is undone, if our eternity has only lasted three years. That is outside us, Marco. But we were faithful, and if love has deserted us it means that life is fleeting, and that human forces are weak. We were as faithful as we could be. I have loved you, Marco, above everything and everybody.”
“And so have I loved you, Maria.”
“Well, let us release ourselves to-day before Him, suffering profoundly, but knowing that we have done what is possible to be worthy of our passion, having never lied, having never deceived. Let us release ourselves, suffering like Him, but with the knowledge that this suffering is not useless, dedicating it as we do to the consolation of others, to the happiness of others.”
“Let it be so, Maria,” he said piously.
They stood a little in silence before the crucifix, as if praying mentally. A sigh escaped Maria Guasco’s tired bosom.
“I shall keep all I have of yours, Maria,” he murmured in a weak and tremulous voice, “I could never separate myself from them.”
“Nor I, Marco.”
In truth their anguish had become unbearable, they had cruelly prolonged their martyrdom.
“Good-bye, Marco!” she exclaimed almost inaudibly, bending her head on his shoulder.
“Good-bye, Maria,” he said, with a short but almost frenzied embrace.