He could not at first distinguish the
points, and during those few seconds of fixed attention neither of them
noticed that the invalid had turned upon his side, and was looking at
the Professor. At last Mayda gave the instrument a shake. How many
points had it marked? The sister did not dare to inquire, and the
Professor's face was impenetrable. Without his noticing the motion, the
sick man stretched out his hand and touched him gently on the arm, Mayda
turned towards him, and read in his smiling eyes the question, "Well?"
He did not speak, but answered with that undulating movement of open
hands which meant neither good, nor bad. Then he sat down beside the
bed, still silent, impenetrable, looking at Benedetto, who had sunk upon
his back once more, and no longer looked at him, but was gazing at the
specks of light in the immense expanse of blue.
"Professor," he said, "what time is it?"
"Three o'clock."
"At five you must send for the priest from Bocca della Verita."
"Very well."
"Will it be too late?"
This last question the Professor answered with a loud and ringing "No.
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