He might marry whom he pleased, and be welcome--what was it to her?
He might marry and sacrifice himself if he pleased--what was it to her?
She thought of her own life.

She, too, had sacrificed herself; she, too, had tied herself for life to a man she despised in her heart, and she had done it for an object she had thought good.

She looked steadily at the clock, for she would not give way, nor bend her head and cry bitter tears again; but the tears were in her eyes, nevertheless.
"Giovanni, you must not do it--you must not do it!" Her lips formed the words without speaking them, and repeated the thought again and again.
Her heart beat fast and her cheeks flushed darkly.

She spread out the crumpled letter and read it once more.

As she read, the most intense curiosity seized her to know who this woman might be whom Giovanni so loved; and with her curiosity there was a new feeling--an utterly hateful and hating passion--something so strong, that it suddenly dried her tears and sent the blood from her cheeks back to her heart.