"Better take him home—"
"I will run and call Sor Marzio—"
"There is an apothecary in the next street."
"A doctor is better—apothecaries are all murderers."
Gianbattista, very pale, but collected and steady, pushed the men gently away from the body.
"Cari miei, my dear fellows," he said, "he may be alive. One of you run and get a carriage to the side door of the sacristy. The rest of you put the things together and be careful to leave nothing where it can fall. We will take him to Sor Marzio's house and get the best doctor."
"There is not even a drop of holy water in the basins," moaned Maria Luisa.
"He will go to Heaven without holy water," sobbed Lucia. "Oh, how good he was—"
Gianbattista kneeled down in his turn and tried to find the pulse in the poor limp wrist. Then he listened for the heart. He fancied he could hear a faint flutter in the breast. He looked up and a little colour came to his pale face.
"I think he is alive," he said to the two women, and then bent down again and listened. "Yes," he continued joyfully. "The heart beats. Gently—help me to carry him to the sacristy; get his hat one of you. So—carefully—do not twist that arm. I think I see colour in his cheeks—"