“It is a fair cross of honour.”
“Yes; they cannot rob us of our wounds when our service is over. And so you will go, Signorina?”
“Yes; I will go. Why should I remain here? I will go, and Carlo will return, and I will tend upon him. Carlo also was wounded.”
“But you have told me that he is well again.”
“Nevertheless, he will value the comfort of a woman’s care after his sufferings. May I say farewell to you now, my friend?” And she put her hand down upon the bed so that he might reach it. She had been with him for days, and there had been no word of love. It had seemed as though he had understood nothing of what she had done in coming to him; that he had failed altogether in feeling that she had come as a wife goes to a husband. She had made a mistake in this journey, and must now rectify her error with as much of dignity as might be left to her.
He took her hand in his, and held it for a moment before he answered her. “Nina,” he said, “why did you come hither?”
“Why did I come?”
“Why are you here in Verona, while your mother is alone in Venice?”
“I had business here; a matter of some moment. It is finished now, and I shall return.”
“Was it other business than to sit at my bedside?”