A horrible fear took hold of him; he dared not move. He looked under the doorway arch, and saw Margherita's white face looking at him. He understood. Still, mechanically he asked:
'How is Donna Bianca?'
'She is well,' the old woman said feebly.
'When did it happen?'
'An hour ago.'
'Did she not ... did she not ask for me?'
'No, my lord.'
He tried to get up; he could not. He thought that death would lay hold of him there, on that seat, at once, since young people of twenty die before old men of sixty. Now Dr. Amati had come into the room. He was unrecognisable; a deadly weight had broken down all his moral and physical energies. Great silent, child's tears rolled down his cheeks. They said nothing for a time.
'Did she suffer a great deal?' the father asked.
'Yes, frightfully....'