She had only one thought: to flee. She did not see the gradualness of things, and the fatefulness of those paths, and she did not want to feel the force of the ghostly hands. She wanted to flee, to turn back along the dark path, back to the point of division, back to Duco, and fight with him, wrestle those two paths that had gone astray back into a single pure direction, back into a single line of happiness …
To flee, to flee. She told Urania that she was going. She begged Urania to forgive her, since Urania had recommended her to an old woman whom she was now suddenly deserting.
And she told Mrs Uxeley, without worrying about her anger, her fury and her abuse. She admitted that she appeared ungrateful. But there was a matter of life and death that obliged her to leave Nice suddenly. She swore that it was true. She swore that she feared disaster and doom if she stayed. She explained to Urania in a few words. But she did not explain it to the old woman, and left her in a state of helpless fury that contorted her body with rheumatic pains. She left behind everything that she had received from Mrs Uxeley, her sumptuous wardrobe of dependency. She put on an old dress. She made her way furtively to the station, trembling at the possibility of meeting him. But she knew that at this time of day he was always in Monte Carlo. Still, she went in a closed cab, and bought a second-class ticket to Florence. She sent a telegram to Duco. And she fled. She had nothing but him. She could no longer count on Mrs Uxeley, and Urania too had been cool, unable to understand this sudden flight, because she did not understand the simple truth: Rudolf Brox’s dominance. She thought Cornélie was making life difficult for herself. In the circles in which Urania moved, her sense of social morality had been wavering since her liaison with the Chevalier de Breuil. Surrounded by the whispered Italian law of love according to which love is as simple as a rose that opens, she could not understand Cornélie’s struggle. She no longer blamed Gilio for anything and on his side, he left her free. What was Cornélie thinking of? It was so simple, if she still loved her ex-husband! Why was she running away to Duco, and making herself ridiculous in the eyes of all their friends! And she had said goodbye coolly, but still missed her friend. She was the Princess di Forte-Braccio and recently, for her birthday, Prince Ercole had sent her a large emerald from the carefully preserved family jewels, as if she were slowly becoming worthy of them, stone by stone! But she missed Cornélie, and she felt alone, dreadfully alone, despite her emerald and her lover …
Cornélie fled: she had nothing but Duco. But in him she would have everything. And when she saw him in Florence, at Santa Maria Novella station, she threw herself into his arms, as if he were a cross of salvation, a Saviour and a sanctuary. He took her sobbing to a cab and they drove to his room. Once there she looked round nervously, exhausted with the strain after her long journey, constantly thinking that Rudolf would pursue her. She told Duco everything, she opened herself completely to him, as if he were her conscience, her soul, her god. She nestled against him like a child, she stroked him, she caressed him; she said he had to help her. It was as if she were praying to him; her fear rose up to him like a prayer. He kissed her, and she knew that way of comforting, she knew that soft caressing. She suddenly collapsed against him inertly, and stayed there and closed her eyes. It was as if she were sinking into a lake, a blue sacred lake, mystical as the lake of San Stefano at night when the world was asleep, powdered with stars. And she heard him say that he would help her. That her fear meant nothing. That the man had no power over her. That he would never have power over her if she became his, Duco’s wife. She looked at him and did not understand. She looked at him feverishly, as if he were suddenly waking her, while she was sleeping blissfully in the blue calm of the mystical lake. She did not understand, but exhausted hid in his arms and fell asleep.
She was worn out. For several hours she slept on his chest, motionless, breathing deeply. When he shifted his arm she stirred for a moment like a flower on a limp stalk, but went on sleeping, with her hand in his. She slept as she had not slept for days, weeks.
LII
“THERE’S NO REASON to be afraid, Cornélie,” he said persuasively. “The man has no hold over you, if you don’t want him to, and your will is strong. I can’t imagine what he could do. You’re completely free, completely independent of him. The fact that you left in haste was certainly not sensible of you: he will think you ran away. Why didn’t you tell him calmly that he has no claim on you? Why didn’t you say you loved me? If need be you could have said we were engaged. How could you be so weak, and so afraid? That’s not the Cornélie I remember. But now you’re here, now it’s all right. We’re together now. Shall we go back to Rome tomorrow, or shall we stay here for bit? I’ve always longed to show you Florence. Look, there’s the river Arno in front of us, there’s the Ponte Vecchio, there is the Uffizi. You’ve already been here but you didn’t know Italy then. You’ll get more from it now. Oh, it’s so beautiful here. We’ll stay here for a few weeks first. I’ve got a little money, so you needn’t be afraid. It’s cheaper here than in Rome. Here in this room we’ll spend almost nothing. By this window I have enough light to sketch now and then. Or I’ll go and work in San Lorenzo or San Marco, or above the city around San Miniato. It’s wonderfully calm in the cloisters — there are occasionally a few tourists, but that doesn’t disturb me. And you’ll come with me, with a book, a book on Florence: and I’ll tell you what to read. You must get to know Donatello, Brunelleschi and Ghiberti too, but mainly Donatello. We’ll see him in the Bargello museum. And the Annunciation of Lippo, the golden Annunciation! You’ll see how much it looks like our beautiful lucky angel that you gave me! There’s such wealth here; we shan’t feel poor. We need so little. Or have you been spoiled by the luxury you lived in Nice? But I know you, you’ll forget it all at once, and we’ll fight our way through together. And later we’ll go back to Rome. But when we do … we’ll be man and wife, my darling, and you’ll be mine completely, before the law too. We must, you can’t refuse me any longer. We’ll go to the consul tomorrow and ask what papers we need from Holland and how we can get married as soon as possible. And in the meantime I shall regard you as my wife. True, up to now we’ve been very happy … but you weren’t my wife. And I feel you are my wife — even though we have to wait a few more weeks for those papers before we can sign on the dotted line — then you’ll feel safe and calm. No one and nothing will have a hold over you. You must be ill to think so. And I’m convinced that when we’re married, mama will make it up with us. It will all come right, my darling, my angel … But you mustn’t say no, we must get married as soon as possible.”