And when I reached
the point at which the heart-broken Isabetta takes the head of her murdered
lover to her room, a tear fell suddenly upon my hand.
I stopped, and looked up at Giuliana. She smiled at me through unshed
tears that magnified her matchless eyes.
"I will read no more," I said. "It is too sad."
"Ah, no!" she begged. "Read on, Agostino! I love its sadness."
So I read on to the story's cruel end, and when it was done I sat quite
still, myself a little moved by the tragedy of it, whilst Giuliana
continued to lean against my chair. I was moved, too, in another way;
curiously and unaccountably; and I could scarcely have defined what it was
that moved me.
I sought to break the spell of it, and turned the pages. "Let me read
something else," said I. "Something more gay, to dispel the sadness of
this."
But her hand fell suddenly upon mine, enclasping and holding it. "Ah, no!"
she begged me gently. "Give me the book. Let us read no more to-day.
I was trembling under her touch--trembling, my every nerve a-quiver and my
breath shortened--and suddenly there flashed through my mind a line of
Dante's in the story of Paolo and Francesca:
"Quel giorno piu non vi leggemo avanti."
Giuliana's words: "Let us read no more to-day"--had seemed an echo of that
line, and the echo made me of a sudden conscious of an unsuspected
parallel.
Pages:
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145