Part 46 (1/2)

”I'm afraid it is a 'perniciosa,'” he said. ”Put her to bed while I call a regular doctor.”

Regina looked up at him.

”I have fever, have I not?” she asked quite quietly.

”Yes. You have a little fever,” he answered, but his big brown eyes were very grave.

When Marcello came, an hour later, she did not know him. She stared at him with wide, unwinking eyes, and there were bright patches of colour in her cheeks. Already there were hollows in them, too, and at her temples, for the perniciosa fever is frightfully quick to waste the body. In the Campagna, where it is worst, men have died of it in less than four hours after first feeling it upon them. Great men have discovered wonderful remedies for it, but still it kills.

Kalmon got one of the great men, who was his friend, and they did what they could. A nursing sister came and was installed. Marcello was summoned away soon after noon by an official person, who brought a carriage and said that Corbario was now conscious and able to speak, and that it was absolutely necessary that Marcello should be confronted with him, as he might not live another day. It was easier to go than it would have been if Regina had been conscious, but even so it was very hard. The nun and Teresa stayed with her.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”SHE SAT THERE LIKE A FIGURE OF GRIEF OUTLINED IN BLACK AGAINST THE MOONLIGHT ON THE GREAT WALL.”]

She said little in her delirium, and nothing that had any meaning for either of the women. Twice she tried to tear away the linen and lace from her throat.

”I wait!” she cried each time, and her eyes fixed themselves on the ceiling, while she held her breath.

The women could not tell what she was waiting for, and they soothed her as best they could. She seemed to doze after that, and when Marcello came back she knew him, and took his hand. He sent away the nurses and sat by the bedside, and she spoke to him in short sentences, faintly. He bent forward, near the pillow, to catch the words.

She was telling him what she had done last night.

”But you promised that I should find you here to-day!” Marcello said, with gentle reproach.

”Yes. I did not mean to break my word. But I thought he would do it. It seemed so easy.”

Her voice was weak with the fever, and sank almost to a whisper. He stroked her hand affectionately, hoping that she would go to sleep; and so a long time pa.s.sed. Then Kalmon came in with his friend the great doctor. They saw that she was not yet any better; the doctor ordered several things to be done and went away. Kalmon drew Marcello out of the room.

”You can do nothing,” he said. ”She has good care, and she is very strong. Go home and come back in the morning.”

”I must stay here,” Marcello answered.

”That is out of the question, on account of the Sister of Charity. But you can send for your things and camp in my rooms downstairs. There is a good sofa. You can telephone to the villa for what you want.”

”Thank you.” Marcello's voice dropped and shook. ”Will she live?” he asked.

”I hope so. She is very strong, and it may be only fever.”

”What else could it be?”

”Pneumonia.”

Marcello bit his lip and closed his eyes as if he were in bodily pain, and a moment later he turned away and went down to Kalmon's apartment.

The Professor went back to Regina's side, and stood quietly watching her, with a very sad look in his eyes. She opened hers and saw him, and she brought one hand to her chest.

”It burns,” she said, almost in a whisper, but with a strange sort of eagerness, as if she were glad.

”I wish I could bear it for you, my poor child,” Kalmon answered.

She shook her head, and turned uneasily on the pillow. He did not understand.