Even while his heart grew cold with the strongest and
most deadly passion of which man is capable, with jealousy which
is cruel as the grave, the nobility of his nature rose up and made
him see that his duty was to believe Corona innocent until she
were proved unfaithful. The effort to quench the flame was great,
though fruitless, but the determination to cover it and hide it
from every one, even from Corona herself, appealed to all that was
brave and manly in his strong character. When at last he once more
sat down, his face betrayed no emotion, his eyes were quiet, his
hands did not tremble. He took up a book and forced his attention
upon the pages for nearly an hour without interruption. Then he
dressed himself, and went and sat at table with his father and his
wife as though nothing had occurred to disturb his equanimity.
Corona supposed that he had recovered from his annoyance at not
being admitted to share the secret for which she was unconsciously
sacrificing so much. She had expected this result and was more
than usually cheerful. Once old Saracinesca mentioned Gouache, but
both Corona and Giovanni hastened to change the subject. This
time, however, Giovanni did not look at his wife when the name was
pronounced. Those days were over now.
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