Her insinuations completed Anania's torment; he now believed Margherita capable of anything. He went to bed early that evening, complaining of imaginary fever. He thought of staying in bed to-morrow, hoping that Margherita would hear he was ill. He even arrived at imagining that she, believing him very ill indeed, would come secretly to visit him. This dream melted him completely; he shook with emotion thinking of the scene that would follow. Then suddenly the dream appeared what it was, childish sentimentality. He was ashamed of himself, got up and went out. At the accustomed hour, he stood before Margherita's door. She opened it herself. They embraced, and both were moved to tears. But as soon as Margherita began to speak, he felt an immense displeasure; then a sense of frost, much as he had felt in looking at his mother. No! no! he no longer loved her! He no longer desired her! He rose and went away without uttering a word. At the end of the street he turned back, leaned against her door, and called-- "Margherita!" But the door remained shut. [Footnote 23: A local expression meaning, "nothing but what I wear."] IX "_September_ 20_th._ Midnight. "Your behaviour last night has finally revealed your character. I should suppose it needless to declare that all is over between us, were it not that you take my silence for a sign of humiliating expectancy. Good-bye, then, for ever. M." "P.S. I wish my letters returned, and I'll send you yours." "NUORO, _September_ 20_th._ "MY DEAR GODFATHER,--I intended to visit you and explain by word what now I must write to you, for at this moment, I have received from Fonni news of my mother's dangerous illness, and I must go to her at once. This, therefore, is what I have to tell you. "Your daughter informs me that she withdraws her promise of marriage, which we had arranged together, with your consent. If she has not already done so, she will explain to you her reason for this decision, which, of course, I accept. Our characters are too unlike for us to be united. Fortunately, for us and for those who love us, we have made this sad discovery in time. It may make us unhappy now, but it will prevent an error which would be the misfortune of our whole lives. Your daughter will surely attain the happiness which she deserves, and will meet some man who is worthy of her. No one will wish her greater happiness than I do. As for me--I will follow my destiny.