Part 30 (1/2)

”But the operation is a safe one; your safety is certain, provided you exercise a little courage! And your death is equally certain if you refuse!” It was a sheer waste of words.

”No,” she replied in a faint voice, ”I still have courage to die; but I no longer have any to suffer uselessly. Leave me to die in peace.”

The doctor desisted in discouragement. No one said anything more. Then the woman turned her face towards her mistress, and addressed to her her last prayers in a dying voice.

”Dear, good signora,” she said with a great effort, sobbing, ”you will send this little money and my poor effects to my family--through the consul. I hope that they may all be alive. My heart presages well in these, my last moments. You will do me the favor to write--that I have always thought of them, that I have always toiled for them--for my children--that my sole grief was not to see them once more--but that I died courageously--with resignation--blessing them; and that I recommend to my husband--and to my elder son--the youngest, my poor Marco--that I bore him in my heart until the last moment--” And suddenly she became excited, and shrieked, as she clasped her hands: ”My Marco, my baby, my baby! My life!--” But on casting her tearful eyes round her, she perceived that her mistress was no longer there; she had been secretly called away. She sought her master; he had disappeared. No one remained with her except the two nurses and the a.s.sistant. She heard in the adjoining room the sound of hurried footsteps, a murmur of hasty and subdued voices, and repressed exclamations. The sick woman fixed her glazing eyes on the door, in expectation. At the end of a few minutes she saw the doctor appear with an unusual expression on his face; then her mistress and master, with their countenances also altered. All three gazed at her with a singular expression, and exchanged a few words in a low tone. She fancied that the doctor said to her mistress, ”Better let it be at once.” She did not understand.

”Josefa,” said her mistress to the sick woman, in a trembling voice, ”I have some good news for you. Prepare your heart for good news.”

The woman observed her intently.

”News,” pursued the lady, with increasing agitation, ”which will give you great joy.”

The sick woman's eyes dilated.

”Prepare yourself,” continued her mistress, ”to see a person--of whom you are very fond.”

The woman raised her head with a vigorous movement, and began to gaze in rapid succession, first at the lady and then at the door, with flas.h.i.+ng eyes.

”A person,” added the lady, turning pale, ”who has just arrived--unexpectedly.”

”Who is it?” shrieked the woman, with a strange and choked voice, like that of a person in terror. An instant later she gave vent to a shrill scream, sprang into a sitting posture in her bed, and remained motionless, with starting eyes, and her hands pressed to her temples, as in the presence of a supernatural apparition.

Marco, tattered and dusty, stood there on the threshold, held back by the doctor's hand on one arm.

The woman uttered three shrieks: ”G.o.d! G.o.d! My G.o.d!”

Marco rushed forward; she stretched out to him her fleshless arms, and straining him to her heart with the strength of a tiger, she burst into a violent laugh, broken by deep, tearless sobs, which caused her to fall back suffocating on her pillow.

But she speedily recovered herself, and mad with joy, she shrieked as she covered his head with kisses: ”How do you come here? Why? Is it you?

How you have grown! Who brought you? Are you alone? You are not ill? It is you, Marco! It is not a dream! My G.o.d! Speak to me!”

Then she suddenly changed her tone: ”No! Be silent! Wait!” And turning to the doctor, she said with precipitation: ”Quick, doctor! this instant! I want to get well. I am ready. Do not lose a moment. Take Marco away, so that he may not hear.--Marco, my love, it is nothing. I will tell you about it. One more kiss. Go!--Here I am, doctor.”

Marco was taken away. The master, mistress, and women retired in haste; the surgeon and his a.s.sistant remained behind, and closed the door.

Signor Mequinez attempted to lead Marco to a distant room, but it was impossible; he seemed rooted to the pavement.

”What is it?” he asked. ”What is the matter with my mother? What are they doing to her?”

And then Mequinez said softly, still trying to draw him away: ”Here!

Listen to me. I will tell you now. Your mother is ill; she must undergo a little operation; I will explain it all to you: come with me.”

”No,” replied the lad, resisting; ”I want to stay here. Explain it to me here.”

The engineer heaped words on words, as he drew him away; the boy began to grow terrified and to tremble.

Suddenly an acute cry, like that of one wounded to the death, rang through the whole house.