Luisa felt herself growing faint, and fell to the ground on reaching the last step.
The women ran to her, many hands seized her and lifted her up. She shrieked: "Good God! Is she dead?" Some one answered: "No, no!" "The doctor?" she gasped. "The doctor?" Many voices answered that he was already there.
Once more she appeared to regain all her energy, and sprang eagerly forward. Eight or ten people hastened after her, but only two could keep up with her. She flew! At the cemetery she met Ismaele and another man, and cried out as soon as she caught sight of them:
"Is she still alive? Is she alive?" Ismaele's companion turned and ran back to tell them that the mother was coming, but Ismaele was weeping, and could only answer: "Good God! Sciora Luisa!" as he tried to detain her. Luisa pushed him wildly aside and rushed on, followed by the boatman who had now quite lost his head and was calling out to her as she ran: "Perhaps it is nothing! Perhaps it is nothing, after all!" But the pelting, ceaseless, even downpour, seemed to be contradicting his words with its wail.
Gasping for breath, she reached the square by the church of Oria, and had the strength to call out: "Maria! My Maria!" The window of the alcove-room was open. She heard Cia crying and Ester chiding her. Several people, among them Professor Gilardoni, came out to meet her. The Professor, as pale as a ghost, was weeping silently with clasped hands. The others whispered: "Courage, there is still hope!" In her exhaustion she came near falling. The Professor encircled her waist with one arm and drew her up the stairs, which were crowded with people, as was also the corridor of the first floor.
As Luisa passed, the Professor almost carrying her, voices laden with words of comfort murmured: "Courage! Courage! Who can tell? Who can tell?" At the door of the alcove-room she freed herself from the Professor's arm, and went in alone.
They had been obliged to light a lamp, because it was already dark in the alcove, owing to the rain. Poor, sweet little Maria lay naked upon the bed, her eyes half open, and her lips slightly parted. Her face was still tinged with pink, but her lips were discoloured and her body was deathly pale. The doctor, with Ester's help, was trying to induce artificial breathing, alternately raising the tiny arms above the head and stretching them along the sides, and compressing the abdomen.
"Doctor! Doctor!" Luisa sobbed.
"We're doing all we can," the doctor answered gravely. She flung herself face downwards upon her baby's little icy feet, and covered them with wild kisses. Ester began to tremble. "No, no!" the doctor exclaimed. "Courage! Courage!" "Help!" shrieked Luisa. The doctor checked her by a gesture, and motioned to Ester to pause in her work. He bent over Maria's little face, placed his mouth upon hers and having breathed deeply several times, raised his head again. "But she is still rosy, she is still rosy!" Luisa gasped softly. The doctor sighed gently, struck a match and held it close to Maria's lips.
Three or four women who were praying on their knees, rose and approached the bed, holding their breath in suspense. The door leading into the hall was open, and other faces appeared there, all silent and intent. Luisa, kneeling beside the bed, kept her eyes fixed on the flame. A voice murmured: