"Bless us!" she said to the priest. "This is our marriage! Say the
words--quickly!"
Taquisara's face was livid, for he had as much of instant death in him
as the dying man, though he could not die. But he did not fail. He came
and knelt on the other side of the couch, away from Veronica. The priest
stood at the foot, in pale hesitation. Veronica's eyes commanded.
"Speak quickly!" she said. "I will marry him--I have said it!
Gianluca--say it--say that you will marry me!"
Holding his right hand, with her left thrust under his pillow she lifted
him so that he sat almost upright. It needed all her strength, and she
was very desperate for him.
"Volo!" The one word floated on the air, breathed, not spoken, and dead
silence followed.
Again Veronica turned to Don Teodoro.
"Say the words. I command you! I have the right--I am free!"
The priest's face was white now. He stretched out his arms, lifting his
eyes upwards.
A worse change was in Gianluca's face before Don Teodoro had spoken the
words he had to say. Taquisara saw it. Both he and Veronica bent over
the motionless head. Still Veronica held the cold hand in hers.
Taquisara knew that in another instant the priest would speak. Gently,
with womanly tenderness, though his soul was on the wheel of anguish, he
took Veronica's right hand and loosed it, and Gianluca's fell cold and
motionless from her fingers.
"He is gone," he whispered, close to her ear, and he held her right hand
firmly, in his horror at the thought that she might be wedded to a man
already dead.
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