Then he knelt down by the sofa, laying his hand on Lucia’s. She woke up gently and did not seem surprised, but hung on to his neck and kissed him.
“Take me away,” she said.
“Come, love,” he said, attempting to raise her.
“I cannot; I am dying, Andrea.” She again closed her eyes.
“To-morrow,” he said vaguely, for fear the convulsions should come on again.
“Yes, to-morrow, you will take me away, far, far....”
“Far, far away, my heart....”
They were silent; she must have heard an imperceptible sound, for she said:
“Here is Caterina.”
Caterina entered on tiptoe, and found her husband sitting in his place.