Marco rushed forward; she stretched out to him her fleshless arms, and
straining him to her heart with the strength of a tiger, she burst into
a violent laugh, broken by deep, tearless sobs, which caused her to fall
back suffocating on her pillow.
But she speedily recovered herself, and mad with joy, she shrieked as
she covered his head with kisses: "How do you come here? Why? Is it you?
How you have grown! Who brought you? Are you alone? You are not ill? It
is you, Marco! It is not a dream! My God! Speak to me!"
Then she suddenly changed her tone: "No! Be silent! Wait!" And turning
to the doctor, she said with precipitation: "Quick, doctor! this
instant! I want to get well. I am ready. Do not lose a moment. Take
Marco away, so that he may not hear.--Marco, my love, it is nothing. I
will tell you about it. One more kiss. Go!--Here I am, doctor."
Marco was taken away. The master, mistress, and women retired in haste;
the surgeon and his assistant remained behind, and closed the door.
Signor Mequinez attempted to lead Marco to a distant room, but it was
impossible; he seemed rooted to the pavement.
"What is it?" he asked. "What is the matter with my mother? What are
they doing to her?"
And then Mequinez said softly, still trying to draw him away: "Here!
Listen to me. I will tell you now. Your mother is ill; she must undergo
a little operation; I will explain it all to you: come with me."
"No," replied the lad, resisting; "I want to stay here. Explain it to me
here."
The engineer heaped words on words, as he drew him away; the boy began
to grow terrified and to tremble.
Suddenly an acute cry, like that of one wounded to the death, rang
through the whole house.