It is all a miserable sham, mamma, a vile
miserable sham! Give it up. I have said that I will marry him, since it
appears that I have promised. But do not try to make me think that I am
marrying him of my own free will, or he marrying me out of
disinterested, pure, beautiful, upright affection!"
Having delivered herself of these particularly strong sentiments,
Beatrice was silent for a while. As for the Marchesa, she was either
too wise, or too lazy, to answer her daughter for the present and she
slowly fanned herself, lying quite still in her long chair, her eyes
half closed and her left hand hanging down beside her.
Indeed Beatrice, instead of becoming more reconciled with the situation
she had accepted, was growing more impatient and unhappy every day, as
she realised all that her marriage with San Miniato would mean during
the rest of her natural life. She had quite changed her mind about him,
and with natures like hers such sudden changes are often irrevocable.
She could not now understand how she could have ever liked him, or found
pleasure in his society, and when she thought of the few words she had
spoken and which had decided her fate, she could not comprehend the
state of mind which had led her into such a piece of folly, and she was
as angry with herself as, for the time being, she was angry with all the
world besides.
Pages:
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249