Giovanni had gone to Villa Mayda before seven o'clock. He had returned
at nine. He had not been able to see Benedetto. Professor Mayda would
not allow him or any one else to enter. He knew that the sick man had
received the Sacraments, but more as an act of devotion than because
he was in immediate danger. However, in the night a trace of fever had
reappeared. It was hoped the attack might be conquered or checked.
Perhaps, in making this report to Jeanne, Giovanni had slightly coloured
it with optimism. Benedetto was in the Professor's own room. Giovanni
said it would not be possible to describe how full of exquisite, womanly
tenderness were the attentions lavished upon him by this terrible Mayda,
who was believed by many to be harsh and proud. Giovanni had gone back
again after lunch about mid-day. From Carlino nothing had come, neither
a written word, nor a message. Notwithstanding her other great sorrow,
Jeanne could not help thinking of him also. What if his grief, his
anger, had really made him ill? Her friends reassured her. Either
the maid or the footman would have come to tell her.
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