“Once? From a distance? Ah! then tell me when and where you did it?”
I made no reply. A thousand thoughts flashed across my mind with the rapidity of lightning.... It was evident that, by some wonderful chance, no one knew exactly what had taken place. A vague story had been circulated, founded on Flavio's exaggerated boasts. My father, brother, and sister had accepted this version—so far from the truth—without understanding the real extent of that which had been alleged against me. I felt that they considered me guiltier than I really was. And yet I would not have undeceived them for anything in the world. They judged me more severely than I deserved, but of what consequence was it? Was I not sufficiently culpable to accept this injustice with humility? Was it not enough, without complaining of anything else, to be at last assured that my secret was safe with my mother in heaven? Ought I not rather to bear all their reproaches without a murmur? There was only one that would have overwhelmed me, and that I was spared. All others were easy to bear, and, moreover, were merited by what they were ignorant of, if not by what they supposed true.
Livia patiently waited for me to break my long silence.
“You know I am incapable of telling you an untruth,” I said to her at last.
“Yes, and therefore I always believe you.”
“Well, then, I implore you to believe me now, Livia, without asking me anything more. And, moreover,” I added in a supplicating tone, “do not repeat what I have just told you, and make no effort to justify me to any one.”
My good sister looked at me attentively for a moment, and then gently drew my head against her shoulder.
“Poor Gina!” she said. “It shall be as you wish. I believe everything you say, and love you too well to annoy you with any more questions.”
Livia knew me thoroughly; for, notwithstanding her apparent simplicity, she had an eye that could read one's soul. She saw the sincerity and repentance of mine, and read in my pale face and distressed look the extent of my sufferings, and her kind heart melted.... I was, indeed, very young to experience such a variety of emotions, and was still too weak to endure them. The habit of duelling, so unfortunately prevalent in Sicily, had, of course, accustomed me more than would have been the case anywhere else to occurrences similar to that I had just heard about. But to have my name connected with so fatal an affair; to feel that I was the cause of the blood shed in one of these encounters, and that the other had resulted in the tragical end of one who had flashed for an instant across my path, like one of those meteors that are the ominous forerunners of misfortune and death, ... was more than my young heart and feeble frame could endure. Livia perceived it.
“Come, carina,” she said, “lean against me. You need rest.”