"I'm sure of it. Bruno will be back presently, carrying Joseph on his

back. Or perhaps Donna Roma will send the boy home in the carriage, and

the great little man will come upstairs like the Mayor. Meantime she has

kept him to play with, and...."

"Yes, that must be it," said Elena, with shining eyes. "The Signorina

must have kept him to play with! He must be playing now with the

Signorina!"

At that moment through the open door there came the sound of a heavy

tread on the stairs, mingled with various voices. Elena's shining face

suddenly clouded, and Rossi, who read her thought, went out on to the

landing. Bruno was coming up the staircase with something in his arms,

and behind him were the Garibaldian and his old wife and a line of

strangers.

Rossi ran down two flights of stairs and met them. He saw everything as

by a flash of lightning. The boy lay in his father's arms. He was white

and cold, with his head fallen back, and his hair matted with flakes of

snow. His gay coat was open, and his little stained shirt was torn out

at the breast. A stranger behind was carrying the cocked hat and mace.

Elena, who was at the head of the stairs by this time, was screaming.

"Keep her away, sir," said Bruno. The poor fellow was trying to be brave

and strong, but his voice was like a voice from the other side of an

abyss.

They took the boy into the dining-room, and laid him on a sofa. There

was no keeping the mother back. She forced her way through and laid hold

of the child.

"Get away, he's mine," she cried fiercely.

And then she dropped on her knees before the boy, threw her arms about

him and called on him by his name.

"Joseph! Speak to me! Open your eyes and speak!... What have you been

doing with my child? He is ill. Why don't you send for a doctor? Don't

stand there like fools. Go for a doctor, I tell you ... Joseph! Only a

word!... Have you carried him home without his hat on? And it's snowing

too! He'll get his death of cold ... what's this? Blood on his shirt?

And a wound? Look at this red spot. Have they shot him? No, no, it's

impossible! A child! Joseph! Joseph! Speak to me!... Yes, his heart is

beating." She was pressing her ear to the boy's breast. "Or is it only

the beating in my head? Oh, where is the doctor? Why don't you send for

him?"




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