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Updated: June 15, 2025
"Her name is Aurora dell' Armi." Marcello started, and looked into her face, doubting her word for the first time. He changed colour, too, flushing and then turning pale. "It is not true!" he cried, rather hoarsely. "It cannot be true!" "It is true," Regina answered, "but she will not have him. She would not marry him, even if her mother would allow it." "Thank God!" exclaimed Marcello fervently.
The world should see that he was doing his duty by the boy. He left Paris with regret, as he always did, after writing to Marcello twenty-four hours beforehand. He wrote at the same time to Settimia. "Folco will be here to-morrow," Marcello said, as he and Regina sat under the pine-trees beyond the stream, a little way above the town.
And what would her pride be compared with Marcello, the first and only being she had ever loved? To begin with, she knew that the handsome people from the country earned money by serving as models for painters and sculptors, and she had not the slightest illusion about her own looks.
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!
Of course, in such a case as yours, you feel that you owe a woman amends you cannot call it compensation, as if it were a matter of law! She has given everything, and you have given nothing. You owe her happiness, if you can bestow it upon her, don't you?" "Indeed I do!" assented Marcello. "Yes.
"Marcello," Aurora began presently, but she got no further. "Yes?" Still he did not move. "I have something on my conscience." She laughed low. "No, it is serious!" she went on, as if reproving herself. "I have always felt that everything that has happened to you since we parted that morning by the shore has been my fault." "Why?" Marcello seemed surprised.
Folco was really a very good judge of character, Marcello thought, since he could at once pick out such a person from the great horde of the unemployed.
Corbario's eyes looked from the mother to the daughter, as he and Marcello stood on the pavement to let them get in. The Contessa touched his outstretched hand without restraint but without cordiality, smiling just as much as was civil, and less readily than would have been friendly.
Marcello grew very red and smoked so fast that he choked himself. "Is there any earthly reason why you should marry her?" asked Folco very quietly. "It would be right," Marcello answered, gaining courage. "Yes, yes, undoubtedly," Folco hastened to admit. "In principle it would undoubtedly be right. But it is a very serious matter, my dear boy. It means your whole life and future.
But that is no reason why you should always be with her, as if you were a girl! I don't suppose you mean to begin life as a saint yourself, do you? You are rather young for that, you know." "No," Marcello answered, feeling that he was not saying just the right thing, but not knowing what to say. "And I am sure my mother does not expect it of me, either," he added.
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