ing. But one thing
comforted him. In spite of the fact that he was worse, the sick man
seemed to be slowly regaining a little intelligence. He stared at the
lad with increasing intentness, and, with an expression which grew in
sweetness, would take his drink and medicine from no one but him, and
made strenuous efforts with his lips with greater frequency, as though
he were trying to pronounce some word; and he did it so plainly
sometimes that his son grasped his arm violently, inspired by a sudden
hope, and said to him in a tone which was almost that of joy, "Courage,
courage, daddy; you will get well, we will go away from here, we will
return home with mamma; courage, for a little while longer!"

It was four o'clock in the afternoon, and just when the boy had
abandoned himself to one of these outbursts of tenderness and hope, when
a sound of footsteps became audible outside the nearest door in the
ward, and then a strong voice uttering two words only,--"Farewell,
sister!"--which made him spring to his feet, with a cry repressed in his
throat.

At that moment there entered the ward a man with a thick bandage on his
hand, followed by a sister.

The boy uttered a sharp cry, and stood rooted to the spot.

The man turned round, looked at him for a moment, and uttered a cry in
his turn,--"Cicillo!"--and darted towards him.

The boy fell into his father's arms, choking with emotion.

The sister, the nurse, and the assistant ran up, and stood there in
amazement.

The boy could not recover his voice.

"Oh, my Cicillo!" exclaimed the father, after bestowing an attentive
look on the sick man, as he kissed the boy repeatedly. "Cicillo, my son,
how is this? They took you to the bedside of another man. And there was
I, in despair at not seeing you after mamma had written, 'I have sent
him.' Poor Cicillo! How many days have you been here? How did this
mistake occur? I have come out of it easily! I have a good constitution,
you know! And how is mamma? And Concettella? And the little baby--how
are they all? I am leaving the hospital now. Come, then. Oh, Lord God!
Who would have thought it!"

The boy tried to interpolate a few words, to tell the news of the
family. "Oh how happy I am!" he stammered. "How happy I am! What
terrible days I have passed!" And he could not finish kissing his
father.

But he did not stir.

"Come," said his father; "we can get home this evening." And he drew the
lad towards him. The boy turned to