"A miracle?" repeated her husband, with a strange expression. "Who knows? Perhaps!"
At that moment Gianbattista and Lucia entered through the open door, and stood together watching the scene without understanding what was passing. The young girl recognised the crucifix at once. She supposed that her father did not realise Paolo's condition, and was merely showing the masterpiece to her mother.
"That is the one I saw," she whispered to Gianbattista. The young man said nothing, but fixed his eyes upon the cross.
"Papa," said Lucia timidly, "do you know?"
"Yes. Is he alone?" asked Marzio in a tone which was not like his own.
"There is Assunta," answered the young girl.
"I will go to him," said the artist, and without further words he lifted the crucifix from the table and went out. His face was very grave, and his features had something in them that none of the three had seen before—something almost of grandeur. Gianbattista and Lucia followed him.
"I will be alone with him," said Marzio, looking back at the pair as he reached the door of the sick chamber. He entered and a moment afterwards old Assunta came out and shuffled away, holding her apron to her eyes.
Marzio went in. There was a small shaded lamp on the deal table, which illuminated the room with a soft light. Marzio felt that he could not trust himself at first to look at his brother's face. He set the crucifix upon the old chest of drawers, and put the lamp near it. Then he remained standing before it with his back to the bed, and his hands in the pockets of his blouse. He could hear the regular breathing which told that Paolo was still alive. For a long time he could not turn round; it was as though an unseen power held him motionless in his position. He looked at the crucifix.
"If he wakes," he thought, "he will see it. It will comfort him if he is going to die!"