'I must tell you, because it is so. I don't know the reason of to-day's illness—I don't want to know it; but she is ill, you understand—ill! She needs sun and peace—peace and sun. If you want a doctor, I am always near; that is my profession. But I have made out a prescription. Send your daughter to the country. If she stays another year in this house, only seeing you and going to the nunnery, she will die, I assure you,' he persisted coldly, as if this truth ought to be announced decisively, as if he wanted to convince his own unwilling mind also.
'Doctor, doctor, do not say that!' Formosa moaned, asking for mercy.
'She is ill; she will die. To the country—the country! Good-evening, Marquis!'
He went off, as if trying to escape. The Marquis and the medium, who had not said a word, went on again with their silent walk. Now and then Formosa sighed deeply.
'The Spirit that helps me——' the medium breathed out.
'Eh?' the other cried out, starting.
'Warns me that Donna Bianca Maria has had a heavenly vision ... and that she will tell you it in an allegory.'
'What do you say? Is it possible? Has the Supreme Being granted me this favour? Is it possible?'
'The Spirit does not deceive,' the medium said sententiously.