It was youth that was to blame, and it had loved.

No matter who that Cytherean priestess was, he must have adored her whether sister, wife or daughter of dearest friend, teacher and paternal patron.

But it was clear from the grief that had made the youth a melancholy man that he was honorable.
Grief is never, when the outcome of remorse, a useless or evil feeling.
It is a fair-fighting adversary which has only to be overcome to be a sure ally, always ready to defend and protect its victor.

In his own terse language, that of a mathematician and mechanician who knew no words of double meaning.
Clemenceau told the Italian this.
"With your youth and your grief, such a spirit as yours and such a friend as you have in me, Anto," he said, "you possess the weapons of Achilles." Antonino thought he was mocking at him and frowned.
"You think I am sneering?
Or merely laughing at you?
Alas, it is a long while since I indulged in laughter.

It was this woman, with whom you have fallen in love, who froze the laugh forever on my lips! she would have been the death of me if I had not overruled her and exterminated her within my breast.