At first, neither the old
couple nor Veronica realized that he was no longer getting better,
though he was no worse. He himself did not believe it; but Taquisara saw
and understood. Gianluca refused to be moved, insisting that he was
gaining strength, and that some day the sensation would come suddenly to
his feet, and he should stand upright. Otherwise, he was now almost as
well as when he had come to Muro. They sent for a wheel-chair from
Naples, and he wheeled himself through the endless rooms, and to
luncheon, and to dinner, Veronica walking by his side. It gave his arms
exercise, and he became very expert at it, laughing cheerfully as he
made the wheels go round, and he went so fast that Veronica sometimes
had to run a few steps to keep up with him.
Then, one day, Taquisara carried him out to the gate, and set him in the
carriage, and Veronica took him for a short drive. The poor people were,
most of them, at their work, but the very old men and the boys and girls
turned out, and flocked after the victoria as it moved slowly through
the narrow street. Some of them called out words of simple blessing on
the couple, but others hushed them and said that the princess was not
really married yet. Gianluca smiled as he looked into Veronica's face,
and she smiled, too, but less happily.
The weather changed. There had been a short touch of cold in the air at
the end of August, and breezes from the north that poured down from the
heights behind the castle, into the tremendous abyss below, and shot up
again to the walls and the windows, even as high as the dungeon tower.
Pages:
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496