The two young people pushed the easy-chair into the salon, followed by Uncle Piero and Signor Giacomo.
On the threshold Luisa, bending over her mother, kissed her hair, and murmured: "You will see. All will be for the best."
She had expected to find the curate in the salon, but he had slipped away through the kitchen.
Hardly had Franco and Luisa pushed the invalid's chair up to the table upon which stood the lamp, when the sacristan came to say that everything was ready. Signora Teresa asked him to inform the curate that the bride and groom would go to church in half an hour.
"Luisa!" said she, glancing meaningly at her daughter.
"Yes, Mamma," the girl replied, and turning to her lover, said in a low tone: "Franco, Mamma wishes to speak with you."
Signor Giacomo understood, and went out to the terrace. The engineer did not understand at all, and his niece had to explain to him that her mother was to be left alone with Franco. The simple-minded man could see no reason for this, but she took his arm and, smiling, led him away to the terrace.
Signora Teresa silently held out her beautiful hand, which was still youthful in its curves, and Franco, kneeling, kissed it.
"Poor Franco," said she gently.
Then she made him rise from his knees and sit close to her. She must speak to him, she said, and her breath was so short. But he would understand much from a few words, would he not?