She had believed him, because he had taught her that she must, even in the smallest things, and this was a great one.
But now something cruelly strong was tearing at her, to make her go into the next room and beg Madame Bernard to help her find Giovanni, if only that she might see his face and hear his voice and say good-bye just once more.

She laid her hands on the window-sill as if she would hold herself down in her chair, and she refused to move; not because it looked foolish, for that would not have mattered, but because she chose not to yield.

Perhaps she was too proud to give way, and pride, they told her, was always a sin, but that did not matter either.

There was an unexpected satisfaction in finding one thin strand of steel among the pliant threads of her untried young will.
Besides, she would have much to bear, and if she did not begin at once, she would never grow used to the burden.

That was another reason for not following her instinct, and a very good one.
To help herself, she began to say one of those prayers of which she knew so many by heart.