He was left alone. His pride rebelled against the idea of humbling himself before the man he had abused. He suffered frightfully; his daughter's voice, now muttering in a low tone, now yelling shrilly, calling out 'Amati,' gave him a feeling of physical pain, of a red-hot iron scorching his flesh. Within him, however, as time passed, as the girl's danger increased, a work of clearing away was going on, in which all the old and the new rebellions of his haughty feelings went on tumbling down, and in place of the pride came a tremendous pity, a great affection, an immense sorrow. The hours flew by whilst he walked up and down, gnawing at the curb of the last chains in which his heart was bending, till at last it sank to the earth; and that eternal delirious voice which could say nothing but the name of Antonio Amati never ceased. He no longer shook with anger; hatred was silent, and when Dr. Morelli, having gone away and come back, asked for Amati, he replied:
'He has not come. I am going myself.'
'Will you bring him?'
'Yes, I will.'
It was very late, however, when he set out on foot to go to Santa Lucia Road, where Dr. Amati was now living. It was nearly midnight, and people had turned out in Toledo in the mildness of the April evening. In spite of being old, the Marquis ran through the streets, urged by a nervous force, and when he got to the big gateway of the palazzo Amati lived in, he went up the stairs rapidly, not giving any answer to the porter, who asked where he was going.
'Tell Dr. Amati that the Marquis di Formosa is here,' he told the housekeeper, who came to open the door to him.
'Really ... he is studying.'
'Tell him, I beg of you. It is very urgent ...' the old man implored; his pride was completely gone. She went off, and came back again at once, making the Marquis a sign to come in. He crossed two sitting-rooms, and came to a study all in shadow, where the lamp-light was concentrated on a large table scattered with papers and books. But Dr. Amati was standing in the middle of the room, waiting. These two men, who had hated each other so much, looked at one another, with the same sorrow they had in common, and pity for the unhappy dying girl cut short all rancour. They looked at each other.
'What is it?' Amati asked in a weak voice.
'She is dying,' said Formosa with a despairing gesture.