When Taquisara
once knew that he loved Veronica, he never reverted to a state of doubt.
He fought against it, because his friend had loved her first, and
rooting himself where he stood, as it were, he would have let the
passion tear him piecemeal rather than be moved by it. But he never had
the smallest doubt as to what the passion was in itself and might be, in
its consequences, if he should be weak for one moment. Simple struggles,
when they are for life and death, are more terrible than any
complicated conflict can possibly be.
Don Teodoro was a long time alone with Gianluca. Whatever reasons he had
of his own for not wishing to comply with Taquisara's request, he
overcame them and faithfully carried out the mission imposed upon him.
In itself it was no very hard one. Gianluca was a religious man, as
Taquisara had said that he was, and he knew that he was very ill, though
he did not believe himself to be dying. With his character and in his
condition, he was glad to talk seriously with such a man as Don Teodoro,
and then to lay before him the account of his few shortcomings according
to the practice of his belief.
The old priest came out at last, grave and bent, and, going through the
rooms, he came upon Veronica standing alone where Taquisara had left
her. She did not know how long she had stood there, waiting for him. He
paused before her, and her eyes questioned him.
"He wishes to see you," he said simply.
"How is he?" He had not understood her unspoken question.
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