“He lives again!” burst in a tense whisper from the bloodless lips of the father.
The tiny stain spread, tinging the marble flesh.
“My boy, my darling boy!” cried the mother, wringing her hands in delirious joy.
Guisseppi’s chest began to rise and fall slowly, with an almost imperceptible movement of respiration. The suspicion of a smile hovered for a moment at the corners of his mouth.
He opened his eyes. He lived!
II.
“Devil” Cardello sat at his desk in a corner of his pool room. The morning was young; no customers had yet arrived to play pool or billiards. Basco, the porter, pail and mop in hand, stood for a moment gossiping.
“They say he died game,” remarked Basco.
“They all do,” sneered Cardello.
“And kept his mouth shut.”