With her head still bowed down, and her whole frame shaken with her sobbing, but still clasping his hand, she murmured to him some phrase—Maurice guessed it was in the familiar Neapolitan dialect; for Lionel presently said to her—slowly, because of his heavy breathing:
"Ah, you are still la cianciosella!—but you have come back—and not to go away. I have forgotten so many things. My head is not well. But wait a little while, Nina—wait a little while—"
"Oh, yes, Leo," she said, and she rose and dried her eyes, with her head turned aside somewhat. "I will wait until you have plenty of time to tell me. I shall come and see you whenever you want me."
She looked at Maurice humbly for directions; his eyes plainly said—yes, it was time she should withdraw. She went into the other room—rather blindly, as it seemed to her—and she
sank into a chair, still trembling and exhausted; but Francie was by her side in a moment.
"Did he know you?" she asked in an undertone.
"Yes, I think," Nina answered. "But oh, he looks so strange—so different. He has suffered. It is terrible; but I am glad that I came—"
"It is so kind of you—for I see you are so tired!" said Francie, in her gentle way. "Perhaps you have been travelling?"
"Only last night—but I did not sleep any—"
"Shall I get you some tea?" was the next inquiry.