"Are you cold?"
"Yes; a little."
She answered with a manifest effort. One would almost have said that
our questions irritated her; so much so, that finally, as Federico
persisted in engaging her in conversation, she said:
"Excuse me, Federico. It tires me to speak."
The hood had been lowered, and Juliana was in the shadow, invisible,
buried beneath the covers. Twenty times I bent over her to look at her
face, either with the hope that she was napping, or with the fear that
she had collapsed from weakness. But each time, I felt the same
sensation of surprise and of fear on noticing, in the dark, that her
eyes were wide open and staring.
There was a long silence. Federico and I were also silent. The trot of
the horses was not rapid enough to suit me. I wanted the coachman to
make the horses gallop.
"Faster, Giovanni."
It was almost ten o'clock when we arrived at the Badiola.
My mother awaited us, very much worried by our delay. When she saw
Juliana's condition, she said:
"I knew the fatigue would hurt her."
Juliana tried to reassure her.
"It is nothing, mother.... You will see, to-morrow morning I shall be
well. I am just a little tired...."
But, on looking at her in the light, my mother cried out, alarmed:
"_Mio Dio!_ your face frightens me. You can't stand on your feet.
Edith, Cristina, quick, run upstairs and warm the bed. And you, Tullio,
come; we will carry her."
Juliana resisted obstinately.
"No, no, mother; it is nothing, do not be frightened."
"I will go to Tussi with the carriage, and bring the doctor," suggested
Federico. "I will be back in half an hour."
"No, Federico, no," cried Juliana almost violently, as if this
proposition exasperated her. "I do not wish it. The doctor can do
nothing. I know what I must do. I have everything upstairs. Let us go
up, mother. Dear me! How easily you are alarmed! Let us go up. Let
us go up."
It seemed as if she had suddenly recovered her strength. She made
several steps without assistance. Going up the stairs, my mother and I
supported her. But, in her room, she had an attack of convulsive
vomiting that lasted several minutes. The women began to disrobe her.
"Go out, Tullio; leave the room, I beg of you," she said. "You may
return later. Mother will remain with me. Do not be uneasy."
I went out. I remained in an adjoining room, seated on a divan,
waiting. I heard the hurried movements of the maids; I was being
consumed with impatience: "When may I return? When may I find myself
again alone with her? I will watch there, I will pass the entire night
at her bedside. In a few hours perhaps she will be calmer, she will
feel better. I will stroke her hair, and perhaps succeed in lulling her
to sleep. Who knows if, in that drowsiness which is neither wakefulness
nor slumber, she might not say 'Come.' I have a strange confidence in
the efficacy of my caresses. I hope yet that this night may have a
delightful end." And, as always, in the midst of the anguish that the
thoughts of Juliana's sufferings caused me, the sensual vision acquired
determined contours, became a clear and persistent vision. "_White as
her night-dress_, in the light of the lamp that burned behind the
curtains of the alcove, she awoke after a first, very short slumber,
looked at me with her half-closed eyes, languishing, and murmured: 'Go
to sleep!'"
Federico entered.
"Well," he said affectionately, "it seems that it is nothing. I have
spoken to Miss Edith on the stairway. Will you come down and take
something? The table is set downstairs."
"No, I am not hungry now. Later on, perhaps.... I expect to be called."
"If I am not required, I will go."
"Go, Federico; I will come down very soon. Thanks."
I glanced after him as he withdrew, and once more the sight of my good
brother inspired in me a feeling of confidence; again I felt my heart
dilate.
Almost three minutes passed. The clock on the wall facing me ticked off
the time with the beats of its pendulum. The hands pointed to a quarter
to eleven. As I rose impatiently to go toward Juliana's room, my mother
entered, agitated, and said in a low voice:
"She is quieter now. What she must have is rest. Poor child!"
"May I go in?"
"Yes; but don't disturb her."
As I made a motion to go cut, my mother recalled me.
"Tullio!"
"What, mother?"
She seemed to hesitate.
"Tell me ... have you seen the doctor since the time of the operation?"
"Yes, several times.... Why?"
"Did he speak about the danger----"
She hesitated and then added:
"About the danger Juliana might run by a new pregnancy?"
I had not spoken to the doctor, and I did not know what to answer. In
my agitation I repeated:
"Why?"
She still hesitated.
"Have you not noticed that Juliana is pregnant?"
The blow was too sudden for me to be able at first to grasp the truth.
"Pregnant?" I stammered.