Note: Translator Pauline Bancroft Flach died in 1966, less than 70 years ago. Therefore, this work is protected by copyright, restricting your legal rights to reproduce it. However, you are welcome to view it on screen, as you do now. Read more about copyright.
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THE FEAST OF SAN SEBA ST/A NO 165
carried you to prison? Will you also cease to love
me, because we do not think alike?
“Ah, Gaetano, love me! It leads to nothing;
there is no hope in your love, but love me; I die if
you do not love me.”
Donna Micaela had hardly sent off the letter
before she began to wait for the answer. She
expected a stormy and angry reply, but she hoped
that there would be one single word to show her
that he still loved her.
But she waited several weeks without receiving
any letter from Gaetano.
It did not help her to stand and wait every
morning for the letter-carrier out on the gallery, and
almost break his heart because he was always obliged
to say that he did not have anything for her.
One day she went herself to the post-office, and
asked them, with the most beseeching eyes, to give
her the letter she was expecting. It must be there,
she said. But perhaps they had not been able to
read the address; perhaps it had been put into the
wrong box ? And her soft, imploring eyes so touched
the postmaster that she was allowed to look through
piles of old, unclaimed letters, and to turn all the
drawers in the post-office upside down. But it was
all in vain.
She wrote new letters to Gaetano; but no answer
came.
Then she tried to believe what seemed impossible.
She tried to make her soul realize that Gaetano had
ceased to love her.
As her conviction increased, she began to shut
herself into her room. She was afraid of people,
and preferred to sit alone.
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