"She is leaving; go with her."
The two English ladies now entered the long, narrow vestibule of the station, covered with glass, and disappeared from Lucio's eyes. He withdrew from the pillar, and began to follow them from a distance, as side by side, and without speaking, they went through the vestibule. From the distance it seemed to Lucio that now and then Lilian bowed her head on her breast; but he could not observe very well, owing to the crowd that came between them. Miss Ford bought a book and a paper from the bookstall; she was lost for a few moments as she chose them, while Lilian waited at a little distance, her face almost invisible behind her white veil, as she leaned with both her hands on the handle of her umbrella, as if she were tired. The ladies withdrew towards the first-class waiting-room; Lucio followed them, keeping his distance. They did not sit down, and he kept behind the glass door, as he peeped inside. Lilian Temple's deep silence, even if she liked silence, even if the two companions were gladly silent, overwhelmed him, as being the sign of something mysterious that kept her closed within herself, since she was now incapable of telling anything of what she felt to anyone.
The two ladies noticing the opening of the doors for departure, went out on to the platform, and proceeded to the train, which was to take them to Milan, and thence to Chiasso, France, and England. When Lucio Sabini saw that the train was about to start, and that the two ladies were looking for their places from carriage to carriage, quietly and with determination, to leave and vanish from him; when he understood that in a few minutes the dear young face would disappear in the shadow of the night, without her having seen him again, without his farewell; when he understood that she was going from him, spurned, refused, almost driven away by him, he trembled with sorrow, and almost with fear, for once again someone seemed to be speaking in his ear, but with an even more intense and mysterious voice:
"Don't let her leave alone; go with her."
Constrained by this sorrow, by the fear which the interior voice was inflicting on him, he hurried his steps, and almost ran to reach the two ladies. But a flow of people crossed his path; trucks full of luggage intervened. When he succeeded in surmounting the obstacles the two English ladies were already in their carriage. He halted at a little distance, where they could not see him, and observed that Lilian Temple was already seated behind the window. She was silent. She did not look at the bustle of the station, she gazed at nothing, she sought and expected no one. At last, beneath the great electric light, Lucio almost distinguished her face beneath the white veil. It was a composed face, with drooping eyes, but tearless, and perhaps without any expression of sadness; a closed mouth, without smiles, but firm and calm in its lines. A great chill froze Lucio's heart, and rooted him to the spot, as he thought:
"She does not suffer; she is resigned and tranquil."
He remained motionless as the doors were banged to and closed violently, while the orders for departure were transmitted briskly, and the locomotive whistled. Without stirring, he watched the train move, the carriage draw away where Lilian Temple sat, and the beloved face disappear behind the white veil. Then, in the suddenly empty station, when he was left alone, an immense bitterness invaded him, and bitterly he thought:
"She will forget me."
That other true voice of his conscience was silent and overcome.