"I love you!"
Franco did not answer, but pressed her arm. Very slowly they went down the stairs, and entered the Albergo del Delfino.
Some young men who were drinking, smoking, and laughing, rose as Franco and Luisa entered, and came towards them. "Signora," said the first to present himself to Luisa, "your husband has probably announced to you the visit of the Seven Wise Men." A great hubbub immediately ensued, because Franco had forgotten to tell Luisa that his friends had accompanied him from Turin, but, not wishing to intrude, had gone on to Pallanza promising to come and pay their respects to the Signora in the evening. They had come over from Pallanza in a row-boat, and had intended returning immediately, but Franco ordered a couple of bottles of wine and, soon, in spite of Luisa's presence, their hilarity became such that the proprietor begged them, for love of his English family, to make less noise.
After arranging with Franco to meet him in the morning on board the first steamer, the Wise Men took themselves off. Franco accompanied them to the boat and Luisa went to look after Uncle Piero. He had left word for them with the proprietor that, feeling very sleepy, he had gone to bed. In fact Luisa could hear him snoring noisily. She put the candle down, and waited for Franco.
He came up almost immediately, and was surprised to hear that the uncle was already asleep. He had wished to say good-bye to him before going to bed, as his boat was leaving so early in the morning—at half-past five. The door between the two rooms was closed, but nevertheless Luisa begged her husband to step and speak softly. She told him what Cia had confided to her. The uncle needed rest. She hoped he would remain in bed until nine or ten o'clock, and she intended to start at one, and spend the night at Magadino, in order not to tire him too much. She laid great stress upon her apprehensions concerning Uncle Piero's health, and talked incessantly, nervously, anxious to avoid other topics, seeking thus to escape too tender caresses. At the same time she was continually moving about the room, repeatedly taking up and putting down the same objects, and this partly from nervousness, partly with the intention that her husband should go to bed before her. He, for his part, was intent upon a side-bag, which he was finding difficulty in opening. At last he succeeded, and, calling his wife to him, gave her a roll containing fifty twenty-franc pieces. "I know," said he, "that I shall not be able to send you anything for some months. This money is not mine, I have borrowed it." Then he drew a sealed letter from his pocket. "And this," he added, "is my will. I have little to leave, but of course I must dispose of that little. I have made only one legacy. My father's scarf-pin, which you have, is to go to Uncle Piero. I have also set down the name of the person who loaned me the thousand francs. Besides the will the letter contains a few words for you alone. That is all." He spoke with grave sweetness, and without agitation. Her hands trembled as she took the letter. "Thank you," she said, and began to unbraid her hair, but she immediately twisted it up again, hardly conscious of what she was doing, in her struggle with the phantom of the dead child, and with another vision of war and death. She said brokenly that, as she must be up so early to accompany Franco to the boat, she thought she would lie down with her clothes on, and not loosen her hair. Franco made no comment, but having said a short prayer, began to undress. From his neck he unclasped a little chain from which hung a small gold cross. This had belonged to his mother. "I wish you to keep this," said he, offering it to Luisa. "It will be safer. It might, perhaps, fall into the hands of the Croatians." She was horrified, she shuddered, hesitated a moment, then threw her arms about his neck, and pressed him to her in a passionate embrace.
The waiter knocked at their door at about half-past four. At five Franco took the candle and went into Uncle Piero's room. He was already awake. Franco said good-bye to him, and then proposed to Luisa that they also take leave of each other in the privacy of their own room. In her face and voice there was an expression of grave and painful stupor. She displayed no agitation, and did not weep, but embraced and kissed her husband as one in a dream, and, still in a dazed state, followed him downstairs. Did a flash from the thought that was filling her soul pass into his? If so, it happened in the little hotel parlour, while he was taking his coffee, his wife seated opposite him. He seemed suddenly to discover something in that glance, in that expression, for he paused to study her, cup in hand, while ineffable tenderness, anxiety and emotion overspread his face. She evidently had no wish to speak, but he longed to do so. A hidden word quivered in all the muscles of his face, and shone in his eyes, but his mouth did not venture to utter it.
Hand in hand they went down to the landing-stage, and leaned against the wall where Luisa had leaned the day before. When they heard the noise of the paddles, they embraced for the last time and said good-bye without tears, troubled rather by the hidden thought harboured by both than afflicted by the separation. The steamer came in noisily, the ropes were flung ashore and made fast. A bell rang. One kiss more! "God bless you!" said Franco, and hurried on board.
She lingered as long as she could hear the noise of the paddles, as the steamer glided towards Stressa. Then she returned to the hotel, sank upon the bed, and sat there as one turned to stone, engrossed in the idea, in the instinctive certainty, that maternity awaited her a second time.