She could see, almost without looking, that he was taking up her arm to examine her bracelet; their heads were bending close together, her curls touching his cheek--now he was putting his lips to her hand.

Caterina felt her cheeks burn--she could sit no longer.

She got up, pretended to be gliding about in search of something, and at length slipped out of the room.
Outside, she took a candle, and, hurrying along the passages and up the stairs to her own room, locked the door.
'O, I cannot bear it, I cannot bear it!' the poor thing burst out aloud, clasping her little fingers, and pressing them back against her forehead, as if she wanted to break them.
Then she walked hurriedly up and down the room.
'And this must go on for days and days, and I must see it.' She looked about nervously for something to clutch.

There was a muslin kerchief lying on the table; she took it up and tore it into shreds as she walked up and down, and then pressed it into hard balls in her hand.
'And Anthony,' she thought, 'he can do this without caring for what I feel.

O, he can forget everything: how he used to say he loved me--how he used to take my hand in his as we walked--how he used to stand near me in the evenings for the sake of looking into my eyes.' 'Oh, it is cruel, it is cruel!' she burst out again aloud, as all those love-moments in the past returned upon her.