But he
had not much time for reflexion. Veronica's women had brought Gianluca
wine, and his mother was giving him certain drops of a stimulant in a
glass of fragrant old malvoisie, while his father bent over him
anxiously, still asking useless questions. Veronica beckoned Taquisara
aside, and they stood together behind Gianluca's chair.
"That is his bedroom," she said, pointing to one of the doors, "and that
is yours," she added, pointing to one opposite.
"Mine? But you did not expect me--"
"I naturally supposed that he would have a man with him, to take care of
him," she answered. "If you are really his friend as you say you are,
stay with him. You see that he cannot get about without you. If either
of you need anything, ask for it," she added, before he could reply.
"I would rather not stay," said Taquisara, looking gravely into her
face.
"Have you a good reason? What is it?" Her features hardened a little.
"I cannot tell you my reason. It concerns myself."
"Then try and forget yourself, for you are needed here," she answered
almost sternly.
For two or three seconds they looked into each other's eyes, neither
yielding. Then Taquisara gave way.
"I will stay," he said shortly, and he turned his face from her with a
sort of effort. "Is there a doctor here?" he asked, looking towards the
group of persons who stood around Gianluca.
"Yes--a good one, whom I have lately brought. Shall I send for him? Do
you think he is worse?" She asked the question anxiously.
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