The hood had been lowered, and Juliana was in the shadow, invisible, buried beneath the covers. Twenty times I bent over her to look at her face, either with the hope that she was napping, or with the fear that she had collapsed from weakness. But each time, I felt the same sensation of surprise and of fear on noticing, in the dark, that her eyes were wide open and staring.
There was a long silence. Federico and I were also silent. The trot of the horses was not rapid enough to suit me. I wanted the coachman to make the horses gallop.
"Faster, Giovanni."
It was almost ten o'clock when we arrived at the Badiola.
My mother awaited us, very much worried by our delay. When she saw Juliana's condition, she said:
"I knew the fatigue would hurt her."
Juliana tried to reassure her.
"It is nothing, mother.... You will see, to-morrow morning I shall be well. I am just a little tired...."
But, on looking at her in the light, my mother cried out, alarmed:
"Mio Dio! your face frightens me. You can't stand on your feet. Edith, Cristina, quick, run upstairs and warm the bed. And you, Tullio, come; we will carry her."