" he groaned feebly, "tell me if it is all over
with me. Must I die?"

"Compose yourself," replied Antonio. "If you will only compose
yourself, Signor Pasquale! As you have come through the first dressing
with so much nerve and without fainting, I think we may say that the
danger is past; but you will require the most attentive nursing. At
present we mustn't let you out of the doctor's sight."

"Oh! Antonio," whined the old gentleman, "you know how I like you,
how highly I esteem your talents. Don't leave me. Give me your dear
hand--so! You won't leave me, will you, my dear good Antonio?"

"Although I am now no longer a surgeon," said Antonio, "although I've
quite given up that hated trade, yet I will in your case, Signor
Pasquale, make an exception, and will undertake to attend you, for
which I shall ask nothing except that you give me your friendship, your
confidence again. You were a little hard upon me"----

"Say no more," lisped the old gentleman, "not another word, my dear
Antonio"----

"Your niece will be half dead with anxiety," said Antonio again, "at
your not returning home. You are, considering your condition, brisk and
strong enough, and so as soon as day dawns we'll carry you home to your
own house. There I will again look at your bandage, and arrange your
bed as it ought to be, and give your niece her instructions, so that
you may soon get well again."

The old gentleman heaved a deep sigh and closed his eyes, remaining
some minutes without speaking. Then, stretching out his hand towards
Antonio, he drew him down close beside him, and whispered, "It was only
a jest that you had with Marianna, was it not, my dear sir?--one of
those merry conceits that young folks have"----

"Think no more about that, Signor Pasquale," replied Antonio. "Your
niece did, it is true, strike my fancy; but I have now quite different
things in my head, and--to confess honestly to it--I am very pleased
that you did return a sharp answer to my foolish suit. I thought I was
in love with your Marianna, but what I really saw in her was only a
fine model for my 'Magdalene.' And this probably explains how it is
that, now that my picture is finished, I feel quite indifferent towards
her."

"Antonio," cried the old man, in a strong voice, "Antonio, you glorious
fellow! What comfort you give me--what help--what consolation! Now that
you don't love Marianna I feel as if all my pain had gone."

"Why, I declare, Signor Pasquale," sa