Giovanni had never thought much about it, but he supposed that men in love, very seriously in love, must take a long time to express themselves, as is the manner in books; whereas he was horrified at his own bluntness in having blurted out rashly such words as could never be taken back, as could never even be explained now, he feared, because he had put himself beyond the pale of all explanation, perhaps beyond the reach of forgiveness.
Nobody ever yet explained away the distinct statement "I love you," upon any pretence of a mistake.

Giovanni almost laughed at the idea, and yet he conceived that some kind of apology would be necessary, though he could not imagine how he was to frame one.

He reflected that few women would consider a declaration, even as sudden as his had been, in the light of an insult; but he knew how little cause Corona had given him for speaking to her of love, and he judged from her manner that she had been either offended or frightened, or both, and that he was to blame for it.
He was greatly disturbed, and the sweat stood in great drops upon his forehead as he sat there upon the steps of St.Peter's in the cold night wind.

He remained nearly an hour without changing his position, and then at last he rose and slowly retraced his steps, and went home by narrow streets, avoiding the theatre and the crowd of carriages that stood before it.
He had almost determined to go away for a time, and to let his absence speak for his contrition.

But he had reckoned upon his former self, and he doubted now whether he had the strength to leave Rome.