She was supported by pillows, pale as her night-dress, almost lifeless.
Her eyes at once met mine, because they were turned toward the door, in
the expectation of my coming. Her eyes appeared larger, deeper,
hollower, surrounded by a wider, dark shadow.
"You see," she said in an exhausted voice, "it is still the same."
Her gaze did not leave me. Her eyes spoke, like those of the Princess
Lisa: "I hoped you would help me; but you do not help me, either."
"Where is the doctor?" I asked my mother, who seemed sad and
preoccupied.
She pointed to a door. I opened it, and passed through. I saw the
doctor near a table busy with his preparations.
"Well," I asked him abruptly, "how is it?"
"Nothing serious so far."
"And all these preparations?"
"To be on the safe side."
"But how long will it last?"
"It is nearly over."
"Please speak frankly. Do you expect any complication?"
"At present there are no serious symptoms. Have confidence in me, and
be calm. I have noticed that your presence greatly excites your wife.
During the short period of the final pains, she needs all the strength
she has. It is absolutely necessary that you go away. Promise me to do
this. You may return when I call you."
A moan reached us.
"The pains are beginning again," he said. "The crisis has come. So be
calm."
He went toward the door. I followed him. We both went up to Juliana.
She seized my arm, and her clutch was like a bite. Had she so much
strength left?
"Be brave! be brave! This is the last. All will be well. Is it not
so, doctor?" I stammered.
"Yes, yes. There is no time to lose. Let your husband leave the room,
signora."
She looked at the doctor and me with dilated eyes. She released my arm.
"Courage!" I repeated, choking.