He would not admit it to the sister, to the gardener,
or to the servants, but when he looked at the list of temperatures,
taken every half-hour, he was bound to admit, in his heart that this act
of folly had had no sensible effect upon the course of the fever. Upon
being asked if they should stay in the room only a short time, and
endeavour to have the sick man speak as little as possible, he answered:
"Do whatever he wishes. It is the feast of a condemned man!"
He went up the wooden stairs before them.
"Your friends," he said, entering the room. He allowed them all to come
in, and then closed the door. His hands clasped behind him, he leaned
against the doorpost, watching Benedetto, and the tall, dark figure
never moved from that spot during all the time that Benedetto kept his
followers with him.
Benedetto's face was flushed, his eyes glittered, and his breathing was
quick. He greeted his friends with a "Thank you!" which quivered with
happy and intense excitement, and which made some one sob. Then he
lifted his hand as if begging them to be quiet.
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