"So happy!" murmured Giustino, faithful but sad.
"And may Heaven help us," she concluded, fervently, putting out her hand to leave him.
He took her hand, and his pressure of it was a silent vow; but it was the vow of a friend, of a brother, simple and austere.
She moved slowly away, as if tired. He remained where he was, waiting a little before returning to his own terrace. Not until some ten minutes had passed, during which he heard no sound, no movement, could he feel satisfied that Anna had safely reached her room.
Once at home, he found himself used up, exhausted, without ideas, without emotions. And speedily he fell asleep.
She also was exhausted by the great moral crisis through which she had passed. An immense burden seemed to bow her down, to make heavy her footsteps, as she groped her way through the silent house.
When she reached the sitting-room she stopped with sudden terror. A light was burning in the bedroom. Laura would be awake, would have remarked her absence, would be waiting for her.
She stood still a long while. She could hear a sound as of the pages of a book being turned. Laura was reading.
At last she pushed open the door, and crossed the threshold.
Laura looked at her, smiled haughtily, and did not speak.