So she returned by the path, which has been
described, into the road, and proceeded along it on her return to
the city. She did not trip along as briskly and alertly as she had
done in coming thither; but walked slowly and pensively with her
eyes on the ground. She was thus a good deal longer in returning
than in going. And when she had reached the immediate neighbourhood
of the city, she turned aside before entering the gate, into a sort
of promenade under some trees near the city wall, and sat down on
one of the stone benches there to think a little.
And presently; as she was busy thinking, she was startled into much
displeasure against herself by discovering that two large utterly
unauthorised tears were running down her cheeks.
What was the meaning of that? Surely she was not jealous still,
after all the good reasons for not being so, that she had so
conclusively pointed out to herself?
No, she was not jealous. She would not be jealous. But it would have
been so nice in the Pineta. The sun was now high in the heavens. The
birds were singing on every tree; and Ludovico was enjoying it with
that woman, whom, when she had seen her at the theatre, she had
found it so impossible to like or to tolerate. Yet she would not,
could not, doubt that Ludovico loved herself, and her only.
She dried her tears, and determined that she would not let doubts of
what she really did not doubt torment her.
Pages:
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425