The time seemed interminable
after he had once yielded to the excitement, and before another
quarter of an hour had elapsed, Sant' Ilario turned angrily away
and left the Pincio by the stairs that descend near the band-stand
towards the winding drive by which the Piazza del Popolo is
reached.
It is not easy for a person who is calm to comprehend the workings
of a brain over excited with a strong passion. To a man who has
lost the sober use of his faculties in the belief that he has been
foully betrayed, every circumstance, every insignificant accident,
seems a link in the chain of evidence. A week earlier Giovanni
would have thought himself mad if the mere idea had suggested
itself to him that Corona loved Gouache. To-day he believed that
she had purposely sent him to wait upon the Pincio, in order that
she might be sure of seeing Gouache without fear of interruption.
The conviction thrust itself upon him with overwhelming force. He
fancied himself the dupe of a common imposition, he saw his
magnificent love and trust made the sport of a vulgar trick. The
blood mounted to his dark face and as he descended the steps a red
mist seemed to be spread between his eyes and all surrounding
objects. Though he walked firmly and mechanically, saluting his
acquaintances as he passed, he was unconscious of his actions, and
moved like a man under the influence of a superior force.
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