from her. And the manifestation of this agonizing mystery of
heredity before her despairing eyes deprived her of all her strength, of
all her courage, of all her power of acquiescence and resignation.

"Mamma," he repeated.

She sobbed on.

"Don't be so disconsolate.... Berengar will be better than I.... You'll
tell papa, won't you?... Or no, never mind, if it costs you too great an
effort: I'll tell him myself...."

She started up nervously from her despair:

"O my God, no! Othomar, no! Don't talk to him about it: he is so
passionate, he would ... he would murder you! Promise me that you will
not talk to him about it! _I_ will tell him--O my God!--_I_ will tell
him...."

But a tremor of hope revived within her.

"But, Othomar, I ask you, why do you do this? You are ill now, but you
will get better and then ... then you will think differently!"

He gazed out before him: his presentiment quivered through him; he saw
his dream again: the streets of Lipara filled with crape, right up to
the sky, where it veiled the sunlight. And over his features there
passed again that new air of hardness, of dogged obstinacy which made
him unrecognizable; he shook his head slowly from side to side, from
side to side:

"No, mamma, I shall never think differently. Believe me, it will be
better so."

When she saw him like that, her new hope collapsed again and she sobbed
once more. Sobbing, she rose; amid her sorrow yawned a void; she was
losing something: her son.

"Are you going?" he asked.

She nodded yes, sobbing.

"Do you forgive me?"

She nodded yes again. Then she gave him a smile, a smile full of
despair; lacking the strength to kiss him, she went out, still sobbing.

He remained alone and rose from his couch. He stood in the middle of the
room; his eyes stared at the collie:

"Why need I give her pain!" he thought.

Everything in his soul hurt him.

"Why did I go on that voyage with Herman?" he asked himself again. "It
was in those first days of rest that I began to think so much. And yet
Professor Barzia says, 'Rest!' ... What does he know about me? What does
one person know about another?... Djalo!" he cried.

The collie ran up, wriggling, joyfully.

"Djalo, what is right? How ought the world to be? Must there be kings
and emperors, Djalo, or had we better all disappear?"

The dog looked at him, wagging its tail violently; suddenly it jumped up
and licked his face.

"And why, Djalo, need one man alwa