f his mother, and of some one called Aurora, whom
Regina already hated with all her heart and soul. The innkeeper and his
wife had never come near him since the former had helped the girl to
carry him upstairs, but if they suspected that he was recovering she
would not be able to prevent them from seeing him; and if they did, she
knew what would happen. They would send her on an errand, and when she
came back Marcello would be dead. She might refuse to go, but they were
strong people and would be two to one. Brave as Regina was, she did not
dare to wait for the carabineers when they came by on their beat and to
tell them the truth, for she had the Italian peasant's horror and dread
of the law and its visible authority; and moreover she was quite sure
that Paoluccio would murder her if she told the secret.

"If I could only take you to Rome!" she whispered, bending over him
when he had swallowed the contents of the glass. "You could tell me
where your friends are."

"Rome?" he repeated, with a vacant questioning.

She nodded and smiled, and then sighed. She had long been sure that the
fever had affected his memory, and she had tried many times to awaken
it.

She loved him because he had the face of an angel, and was fair-haired,
and seemed so gentle and patient, and smiled so sweetly when she kissed
him. That was all. He could thank her; he could tell her that he was
better or worse; he could speak of what he saw; he could even tell her
that she was beautiful, and that was much. He was Marcello, he had told
her that, but when she asked what other name he had, he looked at her
blankly at first, and then an expression of painful effort came over his
face, and she would not disturb him any more. He could not remember. He
did not know how he had come to the inn door; he had been walking in the
Campagna alone and had felt tired. He knew no more.

If only she could get him to Rome. It was not more than seven or eight
miles to the city, and Regina had often been there with Nanna. She had
been to Saint John Lateran's at midsummer for the great festival, and
she knew where the hospital was, in which famous professors cured every
ill under the sun. If she could bring Marcello to them, he would get
well; if he stayed much longer at the inn, Paoluccio would kill him;
being a woman, and a loving one, Regina only regarded as possible what
she wished, where the man she loved was concerned.

She made up her mind that if it could n