ession. "Who
knows? Perhaps!"

At that moment Gianbattista and Lucia entered through the open door, and
stood together watching the scene without understanding what was
passing. The young girl recognised the crucifix at once. She supposed
that her father did not realise Paolo's condition, and was merely
showing the masterpiece to her mother.

"That is the one I saw," she whispered to Gianbattista. The young man
said nothing, but fixed his eyes upon the cross.

"Papa," said Lucia timidly, "do you know?"

"Yes. Is he alone?" asked Marzio in a tone which was not like his own.

"There is Assunta," answered the young girl.

"I will go to him," said the artist, and without further words he lifted
the crucifix from the table and went out. His face was very grave, and
his features had something in them that none of the three had seen
before--something almost of grandeur. Gianbattista and Lucia followed
him.

"I will be alone with him," said Marzio, looking back at the pair as he
reached the door of the sick chamber. He entered and a moment afterwards
old Assunta came out and shuffled away, holding her apron to her eyes.

Marzio went in. There was a small shaded lamp on the deal table, which
illuminated the room with a soft light. Marzio felt that he could not
trust himself at first to look at his brother's face. He set the
crucifix upon the old chest of drawers, and put the lamp near it. Then
he remained standing before it with his back to the bed, and his hands
in the pockets of his blouse. He could hear the regular breathing which
told that Paolo was still alive. For a long time he could not turn
round; it was as though an unseen power held him motionless in his
position. He looked at the crucifix.

"If he wakes," he thought, "he will see it. It will comfort him if he is
going to die!"

With his back still turned towards the bed, he moved to one side, until
he thought that Paolo could see what he had brought, if consciousness
returned. Very slowly, as though fearing some horrible sight, he changed
his position and looked timidly in the direction of the sick man. At
last he saw the pale upturned face, and was amazed that such an accident
should have produced so little change in the features. He came and stood
beside the bed.

Paolo had not moved since the surgeon had left; he was lying on his
back, propped by pillows so that his face was towards the light. He was
pale now, for the flush that had been in his cheek