And at last the full bitterness of
penitence and regret overtook me when I reflected that by my own act I had
rendered myself for ever unworthy of the cloister's benign shelter.
CHAPTER IV
THE ANCHORITE OF MONTE ORSARO
I went blindly through the tangle of undergrowth, stumbling at every step
and scarce noticing that I stumbled; and in this fashion I came presently
back to my mule.
I mounted and rode amain, not by the way that I had come, but westward; not
by road, but by bridle-paths, through meadow-land and forest, up hill and
down, like a man entranced, not knowing whither I went nor caring.
Besides, whither was I to go? Like my father before me I was an outcast, a
fugitive outlaw. But this troubled me not yet. My mind, my wounded,
tortured mind was all upon the past. It was of Giuliana that I thought as
I rode in the noontide warmth of that September day. And never can human
brain have held a sorer conflict of reflection than was mine.
No shadow now remained of the humour that had possessed me in the hour in
which I had repudiated her after the murder of Fifanti. I had heard Fra
Gervasio deliver judgment upon her, and I had doubted his justice, felt
that he used her mercilessly. My own sight had now confirmed to me the
truth of what he had said; but in doing so--in allowing me to see her in
another man's possession--a very rage of jealousy had been stirred in me
and a greater rage of longing.
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