"Look at this tiny breast, Uncle. See how we have abused it, poor treasure, how we have hurt it with all our rubbing. It was your mamma, Maria darling! Your horrid mamma, and that wicked doctor there."
"Enough!" said the doctor resolutely, setting the candle on the writing-desk. "Talk to your child if you will, but not to this one. Talk to the one in Heaven."
The effect of his words was terrible. All tenderness vanished from Luisa's face. She drew back, frowning fiercely, and pressing her dead child closer to her breast. "No!" she cried aloud. "No, not in Heaven! She is mine! She is mine! God is wicked! I will not give her to Him!"
She drew ever farther back, back into the alcove, where, standing between the great bed and the little one, she once more began uttering those low groans which did not seem human. Aliprandi sent the trembling old man out of the room. "It will pass! It will pass!" he said. "We must have patience. I will stay with her now." Ismaele came into the hall and drew the Professor aside.
"Has Signor Don Franco been informed?" he asked.
They consulted the uncle and it was decided that a telegram in Uncle Piero's name, and announcing serious illness, should be sent from Lugano the next morning, for it was now too late. There was some one else in the hall. Poor Barborin Pasotti, who had hastened thither while her husband was absent escorting the Marchesa back to Cressogno. She was sobbing, and in despair because she had given Maria the little boat. She wished to go to Luisa, but the doctor, hearing loud crying, came out and begged her to be calm and silent. Barborin went to cry in the loggia. The Curate, Don Brazzova, and the Prefect of the Caravina, who had been dining at Casa Pasotti, had accompanied Barborin. Later the Curate of Castello, Intrioni, arrived, weeping like a child. He was determined to go to Luisa in spite of the doctor's protests, and knelt in the centre of the room, entreating her to give her baby to the Lord. "Listen, Signora Luisa, listen. If you will not give her to God, give her to her grandmother Teresa, to your own dear mother who will be so happy to have her with her in Heaven."
Luisa was touched, not by his words, but by his grief, and answered gently: "Can you not understand that I do not believe in your Heaven? My Heaven is here!"
Aliprandi made a gesture of entreaty to the Curate, who went out, sobbing.
The doctor left Oria towards midnight with the Professor. The whole house was quiet, nor was any voice to be heard in the alcove-room. Aliprandi had spent the last two hours in the hall with the Professor and Ester, and not a single cry, not a groan, nor any movement had he heard. He had gone twice to look in. Luisa was sitting on the edge of her bed, her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands, contemplating the little bed which Aliprandi could not see. This state of immobility caused him more anxiety than the state of intense excitement that had preceded it. As Ester was going to remain all night he advised her to try and rouse her friend, to make her talk and weep.