"Well, Ragna, for a young lady who could not make up her mind whether to be married or not, you are doing well," said Dr. Ferrati, jokingly.
The baby kicked on the knees of the levatrice, who was dressing it, and Ragna, pale and worn out lay back on her pillows; Egidio stood by the window, looking out and from the adjoining room came the voices of Virginia and Mimmo, now a lively child of nearly two.
Ragna made no answer, her eyelashes barely quivered on her pale cheeks. She wished they would all go away and leave her to rest, to rest for ever. Ferrati looking at her, understood, and beckoning to Egidio, motioned him from the room.
"We must let her sleep now, she needs rest."
Egidio paused by the bed on his way out. Now that she was the mother of a child of his, he felt an odd sort of tenderness for her. Stooping awkwardly he kissed her pale forehead; she shivered slightly, and made no response.
"Come away," said Ferrati, "she must rest, she is worn out," and together they left the room.
Virginia raised her head from the game of blocks she was playing with Mimmo.
"Well!" she asked.
"She is doing well," said Ferrati, "but she is very tired and must sleep. You ought to be a proud man, Egidio," he continued, turning to his friend, "to have a pair of boys like this rogue and the little one in there—one of the finest children I have ever seen, he weighs five kilos if he weighs an ounce, a fine straight limbed youngster he is, too!"
Valentini smiled; then as his eyes rested on Mimmo, the smile vanished. The child scrambled to his feet and toddled up to him, holding out a block.