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Updated: June 27, 2025
Suddenly it was as if an iron hand seized Vanno's heart and slowly pressed the blood out of it. The thought had flashed into his head that she was more than ever before like a gentle and lovely Juliet, but Juliet in the tomb, her white beauty lit by many candles. If she were dead if those people had killed her Never had Vanno seen any one sleep so soundly.
Of late, Vanno's habit had been to dash over to Cap Martin at the last minute in a taxi and back again in the same hurried way, in order to give himself as much time as possible in the Casino; but this morning the Casino had seemed of no more importance to him than the railway station.
It was almost incredible to me at first that you in face a sweet young girl could have accepted Vanno's love without telling him about your past, and at least giving him the chance to choose. Now I begin to see you in a different light." "You see me in a false light," Mary said passionately. "You tortured that out of me about Vanno. I didn't mean it.
The blood rushed to Vanno's face. "I'm not fit " he stammered. "The soul that's in you is fit to do God's work, for love is part of God. 'Thy soul must overflow, if thou another's soul would reach. Now, my son, I won't keep you any longer. At two-thirty to-morrow in my garden." He did not remember until he was halfway up the mule path that he had meant to speak of Idina Bland.
She closed her eyelids for an instant and Vanno's eyes looked into hers, as they had looked in the curé's garden, after the first kiss. Nothing that Marie could have said would have made her understand as clearly. If she were as Marie was, she felt that she could not tell Vanno, now that his eyes had worshipped her.
It was almost as much for his sake as Marie's, she felt dimly, that she must keep her promise now and endure this shame, this martyrdom; for Marie was Angelo's wife, and Angelo was Vanno's beloved brother whose sorrow would be Vanno's sorrow, whose dishonour would be the family's dishonour.
Days passed, and Vanno's project which concerned Mary and the curé was still in abeyance, for the priest was not free yet to leave Roquebrune. The man whose death was daily expected had not died, and the curé spent as much time with him as could be spared from other duties. But Vanno Della Robbia was not the only one who sought the services of a friend in order to "help" Mary.
Vaguely she seemed to see something fatal in the two handsome, happy faces; something that set them apart from the comfortable, commonplace experiences of the rest of the world. "I think after all I'd rather be myself than that girl," she decided. Vanno's way of atonement for continuing to live at Monte Carlo was to lunch or dine each day at the Villa Mirasole.
Angelo was five years older than Vanno and looked more, because he wore a short pointed beard, cut almost close to the long oval of his cheeks, like the beards of many Italian naval officers. He was dark, but not so dark as Vanno's face had been painted by the desert; and whereas Vanno was both man of action and dreamer, Angelo had the face of a poet whose greatest joy is in his dreams.
She admitted to Prince Vanno's cousin that she had not "exactly been at Rome, or at Monte Della Robbia, though she had travelled in Italy"; but she "thought it must have been in Cairo" that she had met the Prince. He was so much in the East, was he not? And she too had been in the East.
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