'Giovanni Severi has been brought here from Monteverde,' she said. 'His right arm is so badly crushed that unless it is amputated he will certainly die.'
Sister Giovanna did not start, for she had guessed that he had received some terrible injury. She answered quietly enough, by a question.
'Is he conscious?' she asked. 'I believe that, by the law, his consent must be obtained before the operation.'
'He came to himself, but the doctor thought it best to give him a hypodermic of morphia and he is asleep.'
'Did he speak, while he was conscious?'
The Mother Superior knew what was passing in her daughter's mind, and looked quietly into the expectant eyes.
'He did not pronounce your name, but he said that he would rather die outright than lose his right arm. In any case, it would not be possible to amputate it during the night. He had probably dined before the accident, and it will not be safe to put him under ether before to-morrow morning.'
Sister Giovanna did not speak for a few moments, though the Mother Superior was almost quite sure what her next words would be, and that the young nun was mentally weighing her own strength of character with the circumstances that might arise.
'May I take care of him to-night?' she asked at last rather suddenly, like a person who has decided to run a grave risk.
'Can you be sure of yourself?' asked the elder woman, trying to put the question in the authoritative tone which she would have used with any other Sister in the community.