Gaetano is saying to himself that he is a brute. Why does he not speak the words for which she is longing? But why is she sitting there so humbly? Why does she show that he needs only to stretch out his hand and take her? He is desperately, stormily happy to be near her, but he feels so sure of her, so certain. It is so amusing to torture her.
The people of Diamante are still standing outside in the street, and they all feel as great a happiness as if they had given away a daughter in marriage.
They have been patient till now in order to give Gaetano time to declare himself. But now it surely must be accomplished. And they begin to shout:—
“Long live Gaetano! long live Micaela!”
Donna Micaela looks up with inexpressible dismay. He surely must understand that she has nothing to do with it.
She goes out to the gallery and sends Luca down with the request that they will be silent.
When she comes back, Gaetano has risen. He offers her his hand; he wishes to go.
Donna Micaela puts out her hand almost without knowing what she is doing. But then she draws it back; “No, no,” she says.
He wishes to go, and who knows whether he will come again on the morrow. She has not been able to talk to him; she has not been able to say a word to him of all that she wished to say.