I could not refuse. I did kiss him, and he me. "God receive you, Palamone, and forgive me. I shall go and fetch you a priest." My face being very near him, suddenly he lifted his head and caught my cheek in his teeth. They met there—the dying act of a savage. I wrenched myself free, and heard his head knock with a thud on the pavement. Then I felt the blood stream down my neck. Stopping it as best I could, I went for a surgeon and a priest.
When I came back with them—I may have been half an hour finding the couple—Fra Palamone was gone, and my pistol too, which had my name on the butt. "Gentlemen," I said, "I am very sorry, but I assure you that I left a dying man on this spot. I can only ask you to excuse me for breaking your repose."
The priest said, "He has been found and taken away—no doubt of it."
"He has walked off, most like," said the surgeon. I shook my head. I was sure I had killed him.
"If you are sure of it," said the surgeon, "there is little I could have done for him, and as it is far more to the purpose to dress a living man than a dead one, permit me to attack that ugly flesh wound in your cheek. God of mercy!" he cried, as he looked into it, "your man must have shot you with a currycomb."
When he had done his best for me I went to bed, and immediately fell asleep.
CHAPTER XXVIII
VIRGINIA ON HER METTLE
I slept like a log until the hour of noon—perfectly dreamless sleep. It was Virginia who awoke me then by shaking my shoulder, not (as usually) by opening the shutter. I heard the bells of the hour ringing and guessed the time; I remembered that Scipione was away; I remembered everything.
"I have your chocolate, Don Francis," she said. "Drink it and rise as soon as possible. You must be out of this."