Oh! to suffer great things, like Christ, humbly, to continue the
redemption, as a sinner may, making amends by his own pain for the ills
of others. There on that lonely path leading to the Sacro Speco, In
the roaring of the Anio, among the everlasting hills, Don Clemente had
spoken thus to him.
And now that mortal suffering was past. When the quinine began to ring
in his head, he felt discouraged. These remedies were stupefying him.
He called the Professor; a sister answered him. He begged that a priest
might be sent for from Bocca della Verita.
The Professor, who had gone to rest for an hour, came to reassure
him, and judged it best to tell him what he had before concealed. Don
Clemente had telegraphed to Selva that he would reach Rome the next
morning at ten o'clock. This was a great joy to Benedetto.
"But will it not be too late?" he said. "Will it not be too late?"
No, it would not be too late. At present he was not in immediate danger.
It would be a question of life and death if the fever should return, but
even in the worst event many hours would elapse.
Pages:
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566