I + 

Gian-Luca was ill on the following morning, too ill to go to the Doric. + 

“I think you have caught a chill,” said Maddalena. + 

And he nodded: “Si, si⁠—it is a chill.” + 

He was patient, letting her minister to him, letting her wash his hands and face, letting her give him those simple old remedies so dear to her peasant’s soul. His pale eyes followed her round the room, wherever she went they followed; and always they held a look of surprise, as though they were seeing this grave, simple woman for the first time, and seeing her, marveled. And this poignant new seeing had little in common with the stately beauty of her body; her gracious body was only a cloak beneath which lay the suffering heart of Maddalena⁠—that was what he seemed to be seeing. + 

He said: “You are very unhappy, Maddalena. Is it I who have made you unhappy?” + 

“If you would only get well⁠—” she murmured. “If you would only try to eat⁠—” + 

Then Gian-Luca shook his head: “Come here, Maddalena; come here and stand by the bed.” + 

And she went to him slowly, turning her face, for she could not steady her lips. + 

He caught hold of her hand: “It is not that, Maddalena, it cannot be only my illness⁠—your heart feels so empty, so horribly empty⁠—you are lonely because of our unborn children, and because there is something lacking in me, something that I cannot give you.” + 

“No, no!” she protested. “No, no, Gian-Luca.” But her voice was heavy with tears. + 

And hearing that voice he sighed to himself and stared down at her trustful hand. + 

“It has always been that, Maddalena,” he said slowly. “I laid my loneliness on you; from the first day we met I have forced you to bear it⁠—and yet that was not quite enough, it seems, for I have remained very lonely.” Then he said: “You were made for great loving, Maddalena⁠—for great simple primitive loving; for the kind of love that knows no ambition, no anger, no bitterness, no doubts and no fears, that is selfless because of itself. Such a great love as that would have filled up your heart, so that if you had had no children, you would still have possessed the most complete fulfilment that life is capable of giving⁠—” + 

He paused, for now she was kissing his forehead, and her arms were around his shoulders. + 

“Get well⁠—get well, my beloved,” she whispered. “You are my only fulfilment, Gian-Luca, my little child and my husband.” + 

But Gian-Luca looked into Maddalena’s eyes, so faithful they were but so hopeless; the desolate eyes of a mothering doe whose young has been slain by the hunter. + 

“You have very much to forgive,” he said gravely. “Can you forgive, Maddalena?” + 

And she answered: “If I have much to forgive, then may God forgive me as I forgive you, and love me as I love you, Gian-Luca.” + 