It became obvious to her that there was no place for her in life, and presently she returned to the conclusion that, totally unloved, she could not continue to exist.
She began definitely to contemplate self-destruction.
She looked at the little arrow of light beyond the boat’s prow. Like that little arrow she must go out into the darkness. When? Could she go to-night? If not, probably she could never go at all by her own will and act. It should be done to-night then, abruptly, without much thought. For thought is dangerous and often paralysing.
She spoke to the boat boy. He answered. They fell into conversation. She asked him about his family, his life, whether he would have to be a soldier; whether he had a sweetheart. She forced herself to listen attentively to his replies. He was a responsive boy and soon began to talk volubly, letting the oars trail idly in the water. With energy he paraded his joyous youth before her. Even in his touches of melancholy there was hope. His happiness confirmed her in her resolution. She put herself in contrast with this boy, and her heart sank below the sources of tears into a dry place, like the valley of bones.
“Will you turn towards Casa Feli—towards the house now,” she said presently.
The boat swung round, and instantly the boy began to sing.
“Yes, I can do it to-night,” she thought.
His happy singing entered like iron into her soul.
When the pale facade of Casa Felice was visible once more, detaching itself from the surrounding darkness, she said to the boy carelessly:
“Where do you put the boat at night?”