Perhaps already she had forgotten it; for the shock had been great and
life was at a very low ebb; had all memory gone from her of her life and
love? They thought she knew them, but she expressed no wish; she
scarcely spoke; lying listless and white under the heavy canopy of the
great carved bedstead, which had become the centre of every hope in
those two palaces on the Canal Grande, while the absorbing life of the
Ducal Palace, so little distant, was for Marcantonio as though it did
not exist. In that time of waiting--he knew not how long it was nor
what was passing--life was a great void to him, echoing with one
agonized hope; time had no existence, except as an indefinite point when
Marina should come back to him with her soul and heart in her eyes once
more.
He had gathered the few books from her oratory and boudoir, and at
intervals when he could control his thought he pored over them,
treasuring every faint pencil-line, every sentence blotted by tears, as
an indication of having specially occupied her.
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