such effort attained was strained almost to bursting.
She stood a little away from him; her head was bent, her hands were clasped one in another.
Once, she thought, perhaps now that he was free to go where he listed he would remember the promise she had given Joconda, the promise she had broken for him, and would say—'shall we go up to the house of God together?'
A vague expectancy, too faint and too unformed to be a hope, came to her for a moment. But the great humility and resignation of her love for him made her doubt whether he would even remember her, once having back his liberty and the world, and not one syllable escaped her lips to recall either his duty or his debt to him.
'I think I am mad,' he said, with a gay, unsteady laugh. 'I feel as if I had drunk new wine; the place goes round with me! Ah, to be free, to be free———'
'She will not rise again to welcome you, she said in a low and bitter voice.
For the first time she felt a throb of pity for the woman whose memory she had abhorred; they were alike forgotten.
