Merrihew, to divert the trend of conversation, counted out five hundred francs. "Here's your money, Giovanni."
"Thank you!" Giovanni put the bills away. In the best of times he was not voluble. "I shall now leave Venice at once. I have friends in Fiesole, near Florence."
"Good-by, then, Giovanni. Take good care of yourself," said Hillard.
"And you will visit me when you come to Rome?" asked Giovanni earnestly.
"Surely."
The old man went down to the street with them. They were so kind. He hated the thought of losing them. But let them come to the Sabines; there would be wine in plenty, and tobacco, and cherries. He remained standing in the door till they took the turn for the bridge. They waved their hands cheerily and vanished from sight. They never saw Giovanni again; yet his hand was to work out the great epoch in Hillard's destiny.
"Poor devil!" said Merrihew. "You remember, Jack, that I once went in for medicine?"
"Yes."
"Well, I have some part of the gift yet. That little girl will not live three months; heart. There is such a thing as a broken heart, and the girl has it."
"Then Heaven help Giovanni and the man who caused this!"