Maria and Noemi, who had also come out to enjoy the freshness and
the wild odours of the night wind, stood at a little distance. Maria
whispered a word in her sister's ear, and Noemi withdrew. When she was
alone, Maria approached her husband very softly, and dropped a kiss upon
his hair.
"Giovanni," said she. How often, oppressed by the intensity of her love,
had she not given him her soul, her whole being, in that one word,
spoken under her breath, all others seeming to her inadequate, or worn
by too many lips! Giovanni answered sadly, wearily:
"Maria."
No longer feeling her face on his hair he feared he had spoken coldly to
her.
"Dearest!" he said.
She was silent for a moment, then placing both hands on his head, began,
caressing it slowly, saying:
"Blessed are they who suffer for Truth's sake."
He turned round, smiling, with a thrill of affection. Having assured
himself by a glance that Noemi was no longer present, he raised his arm
and drew the dear face down to his lips.
"I need you so much," he said. "I need your strength!"
"That is why I am yours," Maria answered.
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