He spent a day of futile research and bitter thoughts, now straying
forth in the hope of meeting Vivaldi, now hastening back to the Three
Crowns on the chance that some message might await him. He dared not let
his mind rest on what might have befallen his friends; yet the
alternative of contemplating his own course was scarcely more endurable.
Nightfall brought the conviction that the Professor and Fulvia had
passed beyond his reach. It was clear that if they were still in
Vercelli they did not mean to make their presence known to him, while in
the event of their escape he was without means of tracing them farther.
He knew indeed that their destination was Milan, but, should they reach
there safely, what hope was there of finding them in a city of
strangers? By a stroke of folly he had cut himself off from all
communication with them, and his misery was enhanced by the discovery of
his weakness. He who had fed his fancy on high visions, cherishing in
himself the latent patriot and hero, had been driven by a girl's caprice
to break the first law of manliness and honour! The event had already
justified her; and in a flash of self-contempt he saw himself as she no
doubt beheld him--the fribble preying like a summer insect on the slow
growths of difficult years...
In bitterness of spirit he set out the next morning for Pianura. A
half-melancholy interest drew him back to the scene of his lonely
childhood, and he had started early in order to push on that night to
Pontesordo.
Pages:
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203