I shook my head.
“Nevertheless, that flower came from your hands.”
I shuddered. He continued in the bitterest tone:
“It is true it was then red, ... red as the blood that had to be shed to restore it to you.”
The horror with which I was filled at these words struck me dumb. I clasped my icy hands, and turned deadly pale, without the power of uttering a word! Livia sprang from her seat.
“Mario, you have no heart, or soul, or mercy! Go away. It was not your place to tell her about this misfortune.”
But Mario, excited as usual by contradiction, continued without any circumlocution, and even more violently than before.
“No, no. It is better for Ginevra to learn the truth from my lips; for I am the only person that dares tell her the real state of the case. And I will do it without any disguise, for it may cure her. She shall listen to what I have to say. It will do her good. And I shall conceal nothing....”
I will not repeat the words that fell from his lips like a torrent of fire!... Besides, I can only recall their import. All I can remember is that they met the very evening of that fatal day—where and how I do not recollect. Flavio was talking to several other young men, and, without observing Mario's presence, insolently mentioned my name. My brother snatched the carnation from his button-hole. The next day the encounter took place....
I felt ready to drop with fright and horror. “Oh!” I said in a stifled voice, “can it be that my brother has killed Flavio Aldini with his own hand? O my God. my God! My punishment is greater than I deserve!”