“Addio, Andrea,” she said.
“Let me take you to the station,” he murmured.
“No, no, it would be worse. Addio; thank you. May the Lord bless....”
She turned away sobbing, and was gone. The greetings from the balcony and waving of handkerchiefs lasted until the carriage had turned the corner to Caserta. Husband and wife were alone together. Suddenly the house seemed deserted, and the rooms immense. A chill fell upon it. Caterina stooped to pick up a white handkerchief; it was Lucia’s, and Caterina wept over it, like a child who has lost its mother. Andrea sat down by her on the sofa, drew her head towards him, until it rested against his shoulder, and wept with her. Only two tears—burning, scalding, sacrilegious.
FOOTNOTES:
[2] “Nè di Venerdì, nè di Marte, nè si sposa, nè si parte.”
PART V.
I.
The note was worded as follows:
“I could not bear it without you. I gave out that I was going shooting; have come to Naples instead. I implore you, let me see you for a moment; just the time to tell you that I love you more than ever.