"But you do not expect him to live?" asked Taquisara, pressing him.
"It is a desperate case," answered the physician.
Being very fat, and having travelled all day, he went to bed. Veronica
remained alone in the drawing-room with Taquisara. The latter slowly
walked up and down between two opposite doors. Veronica kept her seat,
her head bent, listening to his regular footsteps.
"Donna Veronica--" he stopped.
"Yes," she answered, not looking up, but starting slightly at the sound
of his voice. "What do you wish to say?"
"You know that I have not always been fortunate in what I have said to
you, and that makes me hesitate to speak now. But it seems to me that,
as Gianluca is really in the care of us two--"
"Well?" Still she did not turn to him, though he paused awkwardly, and
began to walk again.
"Gianluca asked me the other day whether I disliked you," he said.
"Well? Do you?" Her tone was unnaturally cold, even to her own ears.
He stood still on the other side of the table, looking towards her.
"No," he said, as though he were making an effort. "If he asked me the
question, it must be that I have behaved rudely to you before him. Have
I?"
"I have not noticed it," answered Veronica, as coldly as before.
"It would certainly not have been intentional, if there had been
anything to notice. If I speak of it now, it is because Gianluca spoke
to me, and because, if we are to talk about him, the way must be clear.
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