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Updated: June 17, 2025


He moved Veronica's right hand, that was in his, drawing it a little, and she let it move; and his other held Taquisara's, and he drew it also, they yielding, till the two touched, and at his dying will clasped one another. Then he smiled faintly, his last smile on earth.

It did not touch me." "It might have run through you," said Gianluca, gravely. "It might have killed you." "Oh please please " cried Veronica, still clinging to Taquisara's arm and turning her pale face to Gianluca. He looked on, and his face changed.

There was Bianca Corleone's look of blank surprise when Veronica had first spoken of a possible marriage with Bosio, and there was Taquisara's bold assertion, tallying with the priest's, that the Macomer wanted her fortune, and there was very vividly before her the gnawing anxiety she had seen in Matilde's face until the latter had caught sight of the artificial flower on that memorable evening.

As for Gianluca, Veronica had described in her letters the way in which she lived; and Taquisara's face more often betrayed amusement than surprise at what he saw in the world.

He himself, at least, must know her better than that, she thought. And then, there was the terrible earnestness of Taquisara's letter, the sober statement of his best friend, next to herself, and a statement which it must have cost the man something to make, since it was necessarily accompanied by an apology.

He could not hide that he was dying, but he could hide the cost of it, and its bitterness. After that day, his life went from him, as the strength falls away from a ship's sails when the breeze is softly dying on a summer's evening. In fear Veronica watched him, and in fear she met Taquisara's eyes.

Her aunt might be miserly, but Veronica, in her youth and health, could not think it even faintly probable that she should die before the elder woman and leave the latter her fortune. Taquisara's hasty counsel had therefore fallen in barren ground.

But her thoughts wandered, and presently she found that she was asking herself whether it were her destiny to be fatal to those who loved her. But the mere idea of fatality displeased her as something which could oppose her, and perhaps defy her. After all, Gianluca might not die. She looked over Taquisara's letter again. He was a man who meant what he said, and he wrote in earnest.

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