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i so the miracles of* antichrist
If he knew how she loved him, if he knew how
she dreamed of him !
And she told him that he was nothing less than
life itself to her.
" Must I die, Gaetano ? " she asked.
" It is not enough, then, that these ideas and
doctrines separate us. It is not enough, that they have
sent you to prison. Will you also cease to love me
because we do not think alike? "
" Ah, Gaetano, love me ! nothing will come of it,
there’s no hope in your love, but love me ! I shall
die if you do not love me."
Donna Micaela had no sooner mailed this letter,
than she began to expect an answer. She imagined
she would get an angry, stormy letter in return. She
hoped, however, that there would be one word at
least, which proved that he still loved her.
But she waited several weeks without receiving
any letter from Gaetano.
It did not help that every morning she stood out
on the gallery waiting for the postman, and made
him almost sad to be obliged always to say that he
had nothing for her.
One day she went herself to the post-office and
begged with the most beseeching eyes, to have that
letter she was expecting. It surely must be there,
she said. But perhaps they could not read the
address, perhaps it had got into a wrong box ? And
her soft imploring eyes moved the postmaster so
that she was allowed to search through piles of
old letters not called for and turn all the
post-office drawers upside down. But it availed
nothing.
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