It was bitterly hard to bear.
And he had felt a foreboding of it all in the afternoon--and he wished that he had risked all and brought down the brass tiller on San Miniato's head and submitted to be sent to the galleys for life.

He could never have forgotten Beatrice; but San Miniato could never have married her, and that satisfaction would have made chains light and hard labour a pastime.
It was too late to think of such things now.

Had he yielded to the first murderous impulse, it would have been better.

But he had never struck a man from behind and he knew that he could not do it in cold blood.

Yet how much better it would have been! He would not be lying now on the rock, holding his breath and clenching his fists, listening to his Excellency the Count of San Miniato's love making.