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And Cicillo began again to play the nurse, no longer weeping, but with the same eagerness, the same patience, as before; he again began to give the man his drink, to arrange his bedclothes, to caress his hand, to speak softly to him, to exhort him to courage. He attended him all that day, all that night; he remained beside him all the following day.
The sister, the nurse, and the assistant ran up, and stood there in amazement. The boy could not recover his voice. "Oh, my Cicillo!" exclaimed the father, after bestowing an attentive look on the sick man, as he kissed the boy repeatedly. "Cicillo, my son, how is this? They took you to the bedside of another man.
At that moment there entered the ward a man with a thick bandage on his hand, followed by a sister. The boy uttered a sharp cry, and stood rooted to the spot. The man turned round, looked at him for a moment, and uttered a cry in his turn, "Cicillo!" and darted towards him. The boy fell into his father's arms, choking with emotion.
He breathed with difficulty. "Daddy! daddy!" said the boy, "it is I; don't you know me? I am Cicillo, your own Cicillo, who has come from the country: mamma has sent me. Take a good look at me; don't you know me? Say one word to me." But the sick man, after having looked attentively at him, closed his eyes. "Daddy! daddy! What is the matter with you? I am your little son your own Cicillo."
But the sick man continued to grow constantly worse; his face turned a purple color, his breathing grew heavier, his agitation increased, inarticulate cries escaped his lips, the inflammation became excessive. On his evening visit, the doctor said that he would not live through the night. And then Cicillo redoubled his cares, and never took his eyes from him for a minute.
Perhaps he has a family far away, and sons. He probably thinks that your son is one of his." The sick man was still looking at the boy. The father said to Cicillo, "Stay." "He will not have to stay much longer," murmured the attendant. "Stay," repeated his father: "you have heart. I will go home immediately, to relieve mamma's distress. Here is a scudo for your expenses.
And there was I, in despair at not seeing you after mamma had written, 'I have sent him. Poor Cicillo! How many days have you been here? How did this mistake occur? I have come out of it easily! I have a good constitution, you know! And how is mamma? And Concettella? And the little baby how are they all? I am leaving the hospital now. Come, then. Oh, Lord God! Who would have thought it!"
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