He paused at the end of the open piazza and looked down towards the black rushing river which he could hear, but hardly see; he turned into the silent Borgo Santo Spirito, and passed along the endless wall of the great hospital up to the colonnades, and still wandering on, he came to the broad steps of St.Peter's and sat down, alone in the darkness, at the foot of the stupendous pile.
He was perhaps not so much to blame as he was willing to allow in his just anger against himself.

Corona had tempted him sorely in that last question she had put to him.

She had not known, she had not even faintly guessed what she was doing, for her own brain was intoxicated with a new and indescribable sensation which had left no room for reflection nor for weighing the force of words.

But Giovanni, who had been willing to give up everything, even to his personal liberty, for the sake of concealing his love, would not allow himself any argument in extenuation of what he had done.

He had had but very few affairs of the heart in his life, and they had been for the most part very insignificant, and his experience was limited.