The love which had kindled in his heart found an echo in the young girl's bosom, and instead of endeavouring to suppress their feelings they yielded to the charms of this saintly affection, to the rapture of loving and being loved. In a few days their mutual feelings had made such progress that the young man promised the barcarinola to marry her. His noble character and his brave spirit made him forget that he could not with impunity break the laws of the society amongst which he lived; for that society, which would have smiled had he seduced the young girl and made her his mistress, would nevertheless have been scandalised had he taken her for his lawful wife.
Peccadilloes are overlooked, and it is almost better in high life to be a knave than a fool; it was, indeed, a quixotic notion for a patrician to marry a plebeian, an unheard of event in the annals of the aristocratic republic of Ragusa. The difficulties which our hero was to encounter were therefore insurmountable.
In the midst of his thoughtless happiness our young lover was suddenly summoned back to his home; for whilst Teodoro was supposed to be deeply engaged in his studies his father, without the young man's knowledge, and not anticipating any opposition, promised his son in marriage to the daughter of one of his friends, a young lady of great wealth and beauty. This union had, it is true, been concerted when the children were mere babes, and it had until then been a bond between the two families. The young lady being now of a marriageable age, and having concentrated all her affections on the young man she had always been taught to regard as her future husband, she now looked forward with joy for the anticipated event.
Teodoro was therefore summoned back home to assist at a great festivity given in honour of his betrothal; he at once hastened back to Ragusa, in order to break off the engagement contracted for him. Vainly, however, did he try to remonstrate, first with his father and then with his mother. He avowed that he had no inclination for matrimony, that he felt no love for this young lady, nothing but a mere brotherly affection, and that he could not cherish her as his wife; he found, nevertheless, both his parents inexorable. It was too late; the father had given his word to his friend; a refusal would prove an insult, which would provoke a rupture between these two families; no option was left but to obey.
Teodoro thereupon retired to his own room, where he remained in the strictest confinement, refusing to see any one. The evening of that eventful day, the guests were assembled; the bride and her family had already arrived; the bridegroom, nevertheless, was missing. This was indeed a strange breach of good manners, and numerous comments were whispered from ear to ear. The father sent at last a peremptory order to his undutiful son to come at once to him. The young man ultimately made his appearance, attired like Hamlet at his stepfather's court, in a suit of deep mourning, whilst his long hair, which formerly fell in ringlets over his shoulders, was all clipped short. In this strange accoutrement he came to acquaint his father before the whole assembly that he had decided to forego the pleasure, the pomp and vanity of this world, to renounce society, and take up his abode in a convent, where he intended passing his days in study and meditation.
The scene of confusion which followed this unexpected declaration can be imagined. The guests all wished to retire: the first person, however, to leave the house was Teodoro, expelled by his father and bearing with him the paternal malediction. Thus this day of anticipated joy ended in disappointment and humiliation. The discarded bride was borne away by her parents, and it is said that her delicate health never recovered from this unexpected blow.
That very night the young man retired to the Benedictine convent upon the island of St. Andrea, with the firm resolution of passing his life in holy seclusion. When a few days had passed, his love proved, nevertheless, stronger than his will, and he could not refrain from going to see his Margherita, and informing her of all that had happened, telling her that he had been driven from home, and that he had taken refuge at the convent, where he intended passing his life in a state of holy celibacy. Notwithstanding all his good intentions, the sight of the young girl proved too great a temptation, her beauty overcame his resolutions, and he swore to her that he would brave his parents' opposition, as well as the anger of his caste, and that he would marry her in spite of his family and of the whole world.
He thus continued seeing this young girl, till at last the fishermen, her brothers, having found out why this young patrician visited the island so often, severe and jealous like all their countrymen, they waylaid him, and threatened to kill him if he were once more caught upon these shores. The prior of the Benedictines, finding besides that his protege, far from coming to seek peace and tranquillity within the walls of his convent, was, on the contrary, an object of scandal, expressed his intention to expel him, should he not discontinue his visits to the neighbouring island, and reform.
Every new difficulty seemed to give fresh courage to the lovers; they would have fled from their native country and their persecutors, but they knew that they would be overtaken, brought back, and punished; so they decided to wait some time until the wrath of their enemies had abated, and the storm had blown over.
As Teodoro could not go any more to see the young girl, it was Margherita who now came to visit her lover; to evade, however, the suspicion of her brothers, and that of the friars, they only met in the middle of the night, and as they always changed their place of meeting, a lighted torch was the signal where the young girl was to direct her bark. There were nights, nevertheless, when she could not obtain a boat; yet this was no obstacle to her brave spirit, for upon those nights, she, like Leander, swam across the channel, for nothing could daunt this heroic woman's heart.