“It’s her husband’s work!” La Ferita cried, pointing her finger at Hera. “He killed my Giulia. He worked the life out of her in his factory; gave her fifteen soldi for ten hours, and when she could toil no more left her to die like a whelp. And for what? That he might have a palace for her Excellency, and horses, carriages, jewels, and servants. Look at the two! There she, there my Giulia!”
Hera, full of pity, could find no word to speak to her, and the others in the group about the bed stood speechless, divided in sympathy between the great lady so mercilessly arraigned and the stricken woman malevolent in her sorrow. In the moment of silence a physician who had been listening at the girl’s heart arose and nodded his head. This brought a fresh outburst from La Ferita.
“Oh, it’s death! Never fear!” she exclaimed. “His work was well done, your Excellency! Well done, friends, neh?”
Mario, who had moved to Hera’s side, touched her arm. “Let us go,” he said, and as they drew away La Ferita filled the air with new imprecations against Tarsis. The doctor and the nurses tried to calm her, but without avail.
“My day will come!” were the last words of hers that Hera caught as she passed from the room. “He shall pay. He killed her. He shall pay!”
CHAPTER XIV
AN HOUR OF RECKONING
Two days afterward, when Hera and Tarsis were dining alone, he asked her about the work she had begun among the poor of the Ticinese quarter, and she told him that she had subscribed 150,000 liras to a fund to build a settlement there after the London plan, and that she had been chosen an officer of the Society of Help, and intended to take an active part in its service.
“By the way,” he remarked, affecting a manner of light concern, “I have decided to withdraw my offer of funds for your charitable enterprises.”
“Have you changed your opinion of the work?”
“No; but I’ve changed my opinion of you,” he answered, and she saw his cold smile at play. “Perhaps it is as well you should know,” he added, “that my eyes have been opened.”