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'Monsieur Dimitri, said Gemma, and she passed her hand over her hair on the side turned towards Sanin, 'don't, please, call Herr Klueber my betrothed. I shall never be his wife. I have broken with him. 'You have broken with him? when? 'Yesterday. 'You saw him? 'Yes. At our house. He came to see us. 'Gemma? Then you love me? She turned to him.
The wives of literary men have ever been a fruitful source of disquisition to the admirers of their heroes, and Terentia, Gemma Donati, and Anne Hathaway, have divided the biographers of Cicero, Dante, and Shakespeare.
Some one sneezed on the stage; this sneeze had been put into the play by the author as the 'comic relief' or 'element'; there was certainly no other comic element in it; and the audience made the most of it; they laughed. This laugh, too, jarred upon Sanin. There were moments when he actually did not know whether he was furious or delighted, bored or amused. Oh, if Gemma could have seen him!
'O Gemma! cried Sanin: 'I never dreamed that you would love me! 'I did not expect this myself, Gemma said softly. 'How could I ever have dreamed, Sanin went on, 'when I came to Frankfort, where I only expected to remain a few hours, that I should find here the happiness of all my life! 'All your life? Really? queried Gemma. 'All my life, for ever and ever! cried Sanin with fresh ardour.
At times Sanin felt positively irritated; he had never walked so long with Gemma, his darling Gemma ... but this lady had simply taken possession of him, and there was no escape! 'Aren't you tired? he said to her more than once. 'I never get tired, she answered. Now and then they met other people walking in the park; almost all of them bowed some respectfully, others even cringingly.
So now, in Italy, as in southern France, sometimes in wild hill castles as well as in the city palaces, a hymn of adoration rose to the new divinity. This was the song that Raffaele Muti, plucking at his twelve harp strings, raised in the hall of the Big Hornets' Nest at twilight. He sat by the fireplace on the guests' settee, beside Madonna Gemma.
Sanin, really, was giddy, and above all this whirl of shifting sensations and impressions and unfinished thoughts, there floated continually the image of Gemma, the image so ineffaceably impressed on his memory on that hot night, quivering with electricity, in that dark window, in the light of the swarming stars! With hesitating footsteps Sanin approached the house of Signora Roselli.
His lofty, disinterested soul was worthy of a martyr's crown! Then Gemma expressed her regret that Sanin's life had apparently been so unsuccessful, wished him before everything peace and a tranquil spirit, and said that she would be very glad to see him again, though she realised how unlikely such a meeting was....
With a gesture old Grangioia commanded his sons to sit still. After glowering round him at the wall of mail, he let his head sink down, and faltered: "Do you marry her, Cercamorte?" "Why not?" croaked Lapo. "Having just made a peace shall I give offence so soon? No, in this case I will do everything according to honour." That morning Lapo Cercamorte espoused Madonna Gemma Grangioia.
Sanin's fancy? or did he really feel on his cheek a swift burning kiss? 'Till to-morrow! whispered Maria Nikolaevna on the steps, in the light of the four tapers of a candelabrum, held up on her appearance by the gold-laced door-keeper. She kept her eyes cast down. 'Till to-morrow! When he got back to his room, Sanin found on the table a letter from Gemma.
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