"It is better, father, that she should believe me all that her fancy can
imagine as monstrous," said Jacopo, in a thick voice: "she will then
learn to hate my memory."
Gelsomina did not speak, but the negative gesture was repeated
franticly.
"The heart of the poor child hath been sorely touched," said the
Carmelite, with concern. "We must not treat so tender a flower rudely.
Hearken to me, daughter, and consult thy reason, more than thy
weakness."
"Question her not, father; let her curse me, and depart."
"Carlo!" shrieked Gelsomina.
A long pause succeeded. The monk perceived that human passion was
superior to his art, and that the case must be left to time; while the
prisoner maintained within himself a struggle more fierce than any which
it had yet been his fate to endure. The lingering desires of the world
conquered, and he broke silence.
"Father," he said, advancing to the length of his chain, and speaking
both solemnly and with dignity, "I had hoped--I had prayed that this
unhappy but innocent creature might have turned from her own weakness
with loathing, when she came to know that the man she loved was a Bravo.
But I did injustice to the heart of woman! Tell me, Gelsomina, and as
thou valuest thy salvation deceive me not--canst thou look at me without
horror?"
Gelsomina trembled, but she raised her eyes, and smiled on him as the
weeping infant returns the earnest and tender regard of its mother.
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