Part 14 (1/2)
”Signorina,” he said, lifting his round hat with a magnificent gesture, ”if you were to look only once at a dying man, he would revive and live a thousand years.”
He made eyes at her in a manner he considered irresistible, and replaced his hat on his head, a little on one side. Regina had never been called ”Signorina” before, and she was well aware that no woman who wears a kerchief out of doors, instead of a hat, is ent.i.tled to be addressed as a lady in Rome; but she was not at all offended by the rank flattery of the speech, and she saw that the inspector was a good-natured young c.o.xcomb.
”You are too kind,” she answered politely. ”Do you think I can be of any use?”
”There are the carabineers,” objected the inspector, as if that were a sufficient answer. ”But you may look in through the door and see the sick man.”
”I have seen him through the window. He looks very ill.”
”Ah, Signorina,” sighed the youth, ”if I were ill, I should pray the saints to send you--”
He was interrupted by the arrival of the doctor, who asked him what was the matter, and was at once led in by him. Regina withdrew to a little distance in the direction of the church and waited. The doctor had come in a cab, and in a few moments she saw Marcello carried out and placed in it. Then she walked as fast as she could towards the church, quite sure that the cab would stop at the door of the hospital, and anxious to be within sight of it. Everything had turned out well, even beyond her expectations. The cab pa.s.sed her at a brisk pace before she reached the top of the hill, and though she walked as fast as she could, it was no longer there when she had gone far enough to see the door. The doctor, who was a busy man, had handed Marcello over to the men on duty at the entrance, with an order he had pencilled on his card while driving up, and had gone on at once. But Regina was convinced that Marcello was there, as she hurried forward.
A man in blue linen clothes and a laced cap stopped her on the steps and asked what she wanted.
”A young man has just been brought here, very ill,” she explained, ”and I want to see him.”
”A very young man? Fair? Thin? From the Campagna? In rags?”
”Yes. I want to see him.”
”You can see him to-morrow, if he is alive,” answered the orderly in a business-like tone.
”To-morrow?” repeated Regina, in a tone of profound disappointment.
”To-morrow is Sunday. Friends and relatives can visit patients on Sundays between nine and four.”
”But he has no other friends,” pleaded Regina. ”Please, please let me go to him!”
”To-morrow between nine and four.”
”No, no--to-day--now--he knows me--my name is Regina.”
”Not if you were the Queen of the world,” answered the orderly, jesting with perfect calm. ”You must have a written order from the Superintendent.”
”Yes, yes! Let me see him!”
”You can see him on Mondays between ten and twelve.”
”The day after to-morrow?” cried Regina in despair.
”Yes, between ten and twelve, the day after to-morrow.”
”But I may come to-morrow without an order?”
”Yes. Friends and relatives can visit patients on Sundays between nine and four.”
The man's imperturbability was exasperating, and Regina, who was not patient, felt that if she stayed any longer she should try to take him by the collar, shake him, and force her way in. But she was much too sensible to do anything so rash. There was no choice but to go away.
”Thank you,” she said, as she turned to go down the steps.