Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Book I - X. Sirocco
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sirocco
did not help either. He continued to speak of
capitalists and laborers.
It then seemed to her, that there could be but one
explanation to all this. He must have ceased to
love her.
Suddenly she remembered something. It was a
week ago. It was the same day Gaetano had come
home. She had entered Giannita’s room, but she
had walked so quietly that Giannita had not heard
her.
She had then seen Giannita stand as if in rapture,
with outstretched arms and uplifted face. And
between her hands she held a portrait. Now she
carried it to her lips and kissed it, now she raised it
above her head and gazed at it in ecstasy. And the
portrait had been Gaetano’s.
When Donna Micaela had seen this, she had
retreated as quietly as she had come and had then
only thought that Giannita was to be pitied, if she
loved Gaetano. But now, when Gaetano only talked
socialism, now she remembered it.
And now she began to believe that also Gaetano
loved Giannita. She called to mind that they were
childhood friends. Perhaps he had loved her long.
He had perhaps come home to marry her. Donna
Micaela could not say anything, she had nothing to
complain of. It was hardly a month since she had
written to Gaetano that it was wrong of him to love
her.
He now leaned towards her, compelled her to look
at him and listen to what he said.
" You must understand, you must see and
understand, Donna Micaela. What we need down here
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