Мхи старой усадьбы

           Butmyfather,—hehasunitedusinthisfearfulsympathy.Yes;spurnme,treaduponme,killme!Oh,whatisdeathaftersuchwordsasthine?ButitwasnotI.NotforaworldofblisswouldIhavedoneit."

           Giovanni’spassionhadexhausteditselfinitsoutburstfromhislips.Therenowcameacrosshimasense,mournful,andnotwithouttenderness,oftheintimateandpeculiarrelationshipbetweenBeatriceandhimself.Theystood,asitwere,inanuttersolitude,whichwouldbemadenonethelesssolitarybythedensestthrongofhumanlife.Oughtnot,then,thedesertofhumanityaroundthemtopressthisinsulatedpairclosertogether?Iftheyshouldbecrueltooneanother,whowastheretobekindtothem?Besides,thoughtGiovanni,mighttherenotstillbeahopeofhisreturningwithinthelimitsofordinarynature,andleadingBeatrice,theredeemedBeatrice,bythehand?O,weak,andselfish,andunworthyspirit,thatcoulddreamofanearthlyunionandearthlyhappinessaspossible,aftersuchdeeplovehadbeensobitterlywrongedaswasBeatrice’slovebyGiovanni’sblightingwords!No,no;therecouldbenosuchhope.Shemustpassheavily,withthatbrokenheart,acrossthebordersofTime—shemustbatheherhurtsinsomefountofparadise,andforgethergriefinthelightofimmortality,andTHEREbewell.

           ButGiovannididnotknowit.

           "DearBeatrice,"saidhe,approachingher,whilesheshrankawayasalwaysathisapproach,butnowwithadifferentimpulse,"dearestBeatrice,ourfateisnotyetsodesperate.