But what he really felt was that Marietta had treated him
capriciously and that if he had a particle of self-respect he must show
her that he did not care. For if Marietta was very like other carefully
brought up girls of her age, Zorzi was nothing more than a boy where
love was concerned, and like many boys who have struggled for existence
in a more or less corrupt world, he had heard much more of the
faithlessness and caprices of women in general than of the sensitiveness
and delicate timidity of innocent young girls.
Marietta was his perfect ideal, the most exquisite, the most beautiful
and the most lovable creature ever endowed with form and sent into the
world by the powers of good. He believed all this in his heart, with the
certainty of absolute knowledge. But he was quite incapable of
discerning the motives of her conduct towards him, and when he tried to
understand them, it was not his heart that felt, but his reason that
argued, having very little knowledge and no experience at all to help
it; and since his erring reason demonstrated something that offended his
self-esteem, his heart was hurt and nursed a foolish, small resentment
against what he truly loved better than life itself. At one time or
another most very young men in love have found themselves in that
condition, and have tormented themselves to the verge of fever and
distraction over imaginary hurts and wrongs.
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