“I want to get a surgeon to you,” said Vanina, embracing her.
“I would rather die,” said the stranger. “Why should I wish to compromise my benefactors?”
“The surgeon to Monsignore Savelli-Catanzara, the governor of Rome, is the son of one of our servants,” Vanina replied eagerly; “he is devoted to us, and, in his position, is afraid of no one. My father does not do justice to his fidelity; I am going to send for him.”
“I don’t want any surgeon,” the stranger exclaimed, with a sharpness which surprised Vanina. “Come and see me; and, if God must call me to Himself, I shall die happy in your arms.”
Next day, the stranger was still worse.
“If you love me,” said Vanina, as she left her, “you’ll see a surgeon.”
“If he comes, my happiness is gone.”
“I’m going to send for one,” replied Vanina.
Without a word, the stranger detained her and took her hand, which she covered with kisses. There was a long silence; the stranger’s eyes were full of tears. At last she let go Vanina’s hand, and, with the air with which she might have gone to her death, said to her:
“I have a confession to make to you. The day before yesterday I told you a lie when I said I was Clementine; I am an unfortunate carbonaro——.”