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Updated: June 13, 2025
"You should keep better watch over your dreams," said he, "if you wish our tribunals to remain in ignorance of your secrets." "My dreams!" repeated the Uzcoque, somewhat startled by the ominous coincidence between Marcello's words and the visions that had broken his slumber. "Ay, friend, your dreams! The jailers are watchful, and little passes in these prisons without coming to their knowledge.
Regina heard the long breath Corbario drew, and saw his body straighten, as if relieved from a great burden. He stood beside the bed, and put out his hand to take Marcello's. "Do you know me?" he asked; but even then his voice was unsteady. Instead of answering, Marcello turned away to Regina. "You promised that they should not tease me any more," he said querulously. "Make them go away!
Then there were sudden reflections from distant windows and wet domes, that blazed like white fires for a little while, till the raindrops dried and the waves of changing hues that had surged up under the rain, rising, breaking, falling, and spreading, subsided into a restful sea of harmonious colour. After that, the sweet smell of the wet earth came up to Marcello's nostrils.
It was afternoon when Marcello's galley cane in sight of the white cliffs of Cherso, and shortly afterwards entered the channel, running between that island and Veglia.
Possibly he had kept out of Marcello's way for some reason of his own, but he had really not known that the Contessa was there. Her letter was forwarded from Rome and reached him four days after it was written. He read it carefully, tore it into several dozen little bits, looked at his watch, and went at once to the quiet hotel in the Rue Saint Honoré.
She paused, waiting for his answer and watching his impenetrable face, that did not change even when he laughed, that could not change, she thought; but she had not seen him by Marcello's bedside at the hospital, when the mask had been gone for a few seconds. It was there now, in all its calm stillness. "You may be right," he answered, almost meekly, after a little pause.
Moreover, Marcello's mother, who was a good woman, told him that the world was very wicked; and with the blind desire for her son's lasting innocence, which is the most touching instinct of loving motherhood, she entreated him to lead a spotless life.
The good woman who was gone would have shed hot tears if she could have come to life and seen how her son was living; but she would have died again, could she have seen the husband she adored in the places where many had seen him since her death. It was no wonder that Marcello's anger rose at the mere thought.
Once he had attempted an appeal to Marcello's former affection, recalling his mother's love for them both, but a look had come into the young man's eyes just then which even Corbario did not care to face again, and the relations between the two had become more strained from that time on.
The Chief of Police was not discouraged yet. "You were knocked down and robbed by thieves, just after you had been talking with Aurora," he said, inventing what he believed to have happened. A faint light came into Marcello's eyes. "Aurora?" He repeated the name almost eagerly. "Yes. You had been talking to Signorina Aurora dell' Armi. You remember that?" The light faded suddenly.
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