"But surely, Doctor," she interrupted, "I have a right to decide whether I shall bear this child or not; I have a right to choose death for it and me, rather than the stigma of shame!"
"My dear child, I do not consider that there is any shame. The shame would die in repudiating a fundamental law of nature, of sacrificing two lives to the fetish of conventional morality. What are the conventions, that you should immolate yourself and your child to them? Your duty is this: to bring your child into the world strong and healthy, and you owe it to him to make his life as happy as shall lie in your power—beyond that, nothing can rightly be required of you, and you can do no less. You are no longer merely a girl, a woman, you are a mother!"
Ragna lifted her head; Ferrati's words opened new vistas to her wondering gaze.
"A mother!" she echoed.
"Yes, a mother, and your first duty is to be true to your child—all the rest comes after." His voice softened as he read the response to his call in the girl's face. "You will be brave, you must be brave, for the little one's sake. You see that now, do you not?"
"Yes, I understand that now—it was all so sudden, and so dreadful, it took me unawares. But I see that you are right, I will be brave now, I promise it."
Ferrati had touched the right chord, the chord of self-sacrifice, the battle was won, and he knew it; never again would Ragna attempt self-destruction, come what might.
"And now you will rest as I told you, until this afternoon?"
She signified "yes" with her head. Ferrati brought a glass of water from the toilet table, and she took the little pellet. Then he rang for the chambermaid, and when she had come, said to her:
"Help the Signorina into bed, she has a bad headache, and must rest. I have given her some sleeping medicine, and I leave it to you to see that she is not disturbed. You can tell the Signorina that I am coming back later, and will speak to her then."