"It is done.

It is agreed.

She accepts me." Matilde drew breath, and pressed her hand to her left side for one moment--she, who was so strong.
"You almost killed me!" she said, so low that Bosio hardly caught the words.
Slowly she straightened herself, and the colour came back to her face, blending with the tinge of the paint.

He did not move, and she came and stood near him, leaning her elbows upon the mantelpiece and turning to him.
"You have saved me," she said.

"I thank you." Bad natures can be simple, if they are great enough, and Matilde spoke simply, as she looked at him.