"You cannot stay here," she said, turning to Zorzi again. "You cannot lie on this bench all day."
"I shall soon be able to stand," answered Zorzi confidently. "I am much better."
"You will not stand on that foot for many a day," said Nella, shaking her head.
"Then Pasquale must get me a pair of crutches," replied Zorzi. "I cannot lie on my back because I have hurt one foot. I must tend the furnace, I must go on with my work, I must make the tests, I must—"
He stopped short and bit his lip, turning white again as a spasm of excruciating pain shot along his right side, from his foot upwards. Marietta bent over him, full of anxiety.
"You are suffering!" she said tenderly. "You must not try to move."
"It is nothing," he answered through his closed teeth. "It will pass, I daresay."
"It will not pass to-day," said Nella. "But I will bring you some syrup of poppies. That will make you sleep."
Marietta seemed to feel the pain herself. She smoothed the leathern cushion under his head as well as she could, and softly touched his forehead. It was hot and dry now.
"He is feverish," she said to Nella anxiously.