It was not Gianluca who became
intolerable to her, but she herself, and it was to escape from herself
that she clung to him closely, as well as out of affection for him; for
when she was by herself she was no longer alone. That other unshaped
something kept her company.
She was bound hand and foot, soul, body, and intelligence, for life.
She, the very strong, was tied to the helpless; she, the energetic, was
bound to apathy; she, the active, was nailed to the passive; she, the
free, the erect, was bowed under a burden which she must carry to her
life's end, never to be free again.
She could bear the burden, and she said none of these things to herself.
But the wrong was upon nature, and the mother of all turned against the
one child that would be unlike all the rest.
The man who was a man, soul and body, heart, hand, and spirit, stood
beside the other, who was a shadow, and beside her, who was a woman--and
the tragedy began in the prologue of contrast. Strength to weakness,
motion to immobility, the grace and carriage of manly youth to the sad
restfulness of helpless, hopeless limbs that never again could feel and
bear weight; that was the contrast from which there was no escaping. On
the steps of love's temple, at the very threshold, the one lay half
dead, never to rise again; and beside him stood the other, in the pride
and glory of the morning of life.
It would have been hard, even if the contrast had been less strong to
the eye, and the distance of the two souls greater one from the
other--even if Taquisara had not been what he was.
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