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Updated: June 13, 2025
"Regina," answered Aurora, looking up, and throwing the hat upon the table. "I am talking about Marcello's Regina. Did you suppose I had never heard of her, and that I did not guess that it was she, the other night? I had a good look at her. I hate her, but she is handsome. You cannot deny that." "I do not deny it, I'm sure!" The Contessa hardly knew what to say. "Very well.
"Kalmon," he said at last, and the Professor stopped short in his walk. "Kalmon, do you think she knows?" It was like the cry of a child, but it came from a man who was already strong. Kalmon could only shake his head gravely; he could find nothing to say in answer to such a question, and yet he was too human and kind and simple-hearted not to understand the words that rose to Marcello's lips.
The Superintendent observed that Marcello certainly had no difficulty in recalling the girl's name, whatever might have become of his own during his illness. What Regina answered was not audible, but she kissed Marcello's eyes, and then stood upright beside the bed, and laughed a little. "What can I do?" she asked. "It is a passion! When I see him, I see nothing else. And then, I saved his life.
We do not expect young men to be saints!" Maddalena, who had not always been a saint, returned his look coldly. "Let us leave the saints out of the discussion," she said, "unless we speak of Marcello's mother. She was one, if any one ever was. I believe you loved her, and I know that I did, and I do still, for she is very real to me, even now. Don't you owe something to her memory?
He was quite sure that she did not suspect him of having been in any way concerned in Marcello's temporary disappearance. "Suppose him to be as strong as the strongest," Maddalena answered. "Put aside the question of his health. There is something else that seems to me quite as important." "The moral side?" Corbario smiled gravely. "My dear lady, you and I know the world, don't we?
After the necessary operation of tapping one of his casks and filling it up with water, he lingered on before a measure of the best, while Nanna and Paoluccio dozed in their chairs; and at last all three were asleep. Then Regina went out softly into the dark summer night, and climbed the stairs to the attic. "I am going to take you to Rome to-night," she whispered in Marcello's ear.
The lawyer made a few notes without offering any comment, and on the following day he brought the will for the Signora to sign. By it, at her death, Marcello, her son, was to inherit her great fortune. Her husband, Folco Corbario, was constituted Marcello's sole guardian, and was to enjoy a life-interest in one-third of the inheritance.
Kalmon waited, and smoked a little, reflecting on these things, which he understood tolerably well. The quiet man of science had watched Marcello thoughtfully, and could not help asking himself what look there would be in his own eyes, if Maddalena dell' Armi were dying and he were standing by her bedside. It would not be Marcello's look.
The garden in which Vittoria meets Bracciano is the villa of Magnanapoli; Zanche, the Moorish slave, combines Vittoria's waiting-woman, Caterina, and the Greek sorceress who so mysteriously dogged Marcello's footsteps to the death. The suspicion of Bracciano's murder is used to introduce a quaint episode of Italian poisoning.
The next morning Corbario telegraphed that he was starting. The visiting physician came early and examined Marcello's head with the greatest minuteness. After much trouble he found what he was looking for a very slight depression in the skull.
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