pt
secret. Under his gaze I felt it quiver imperceptibly but continuously,
and the tremor spread to my innermost veins. When his gaze grew too
intense, I was seized with an instinctive desire to withdraw my hand
altogether, arising from a sense of shame.

'Now and then, he would stop drawing and sit for quite an appreciable
time with his eyes fixed, and then I had the impression that he was
absorbing something of me through his pupils, or that he was caressing
me with a touch that was softer than the velvet beneath my hand. At
other times, while he bent over the drawing, transferring maybe into the
lines what he had taken from me, a faint smile played round his mouth,
so faint that I only just caught it. I do not know why, but that smile
sent a pang of delight thrilling through my heart. Once or twice, I saw
the image of a kiss appear again upon his lips.

'At last, curiosity got the better of me and I said--"Well--what is
it?"

'Francesca was at the piano with her back turned to us, her fingers
wandering over the keys, trying to remember Rameau's Gavotte _of the
Yellow Ladies_ that I have played so often, and which will always be
connected in my mind with my stay at Schifanoja. She muffled the notes
with the soft pedal and broke off frequently. These interruptions and
gaps in the melody which was so familiar to me and which my ear filled
up each time, in advance, added immeasurably to my distress. All at
once, she struck one note hard several times in succession as if under
the spur of some nervous irritation; then she started up and came and
bent over the drawing.

'I looked at her--I understood it all.

'This last drop was wanting in my cup of bitterness. God had still this
last and cruelest trial of all reserved for me.--His will be done!

'_October 7th._--I have now but one thought, one desire--to fly from
here--to escape.

'I have come to the end of my strength. This love is crushing me, is
killing me, and the unexpected discovery I have made increases my
wretchedness a thousand-fold. What are her feelings towards me? What
does she think? So she loves him too?--and since when? Does he know it?
Or has he no suspicion of the fact?

'_Mio Dio! Mio Dio!_ I believe I am going out of my mind--all my
strength of will is forsaking me. At long intervals there comes a pause
in my torment, as when the wild elements of the tempest hold their
breath for a moment, only to break forth again with redoubled fury. I
sit