She spoke without any intermission of the cares she was giving the infant.
"Julia, give me the linen."
And, while swathing the infant, she added:
"There is nothing to fear on his account. God bless him!"
Her expert hands took hold of the little soft head as if to mould it. The infant's wails increased in strength. He cried louder and louder, as if to prove that he was really alive, as if to provoke me and exasperate me.
"He is living, he is living. But the mother?"
Abruptly I re-entered the other room, beside myself.
"Tullio!"
It was Juliana's voice, as feeble as that of a dying woman.
XXXII.