The foreman took it
and placed it under Zorzi's head.
"We must get a surgeon to dress his wound," said the foreman.
"I will send for one," answered Giovanni. "Is there anything you want
now?" he asked, with an attempt to speak kindly to the valuable piece of
property that lay helpless before him.
"Water," said Zorzi very faintly. "And feed the fire--it must be time."
The foreman dipped a cupful of water from an earthen jar, held up his
head and helped him to drink. Giovanni pushed some wood into the
furnace.
"I will send for a surgeon," he repeated, and went out.
Zorzi closed his eyes, and the foreman stood looking at him.
"Do not stay here," Zorzi said. "You can do nothing for me, and the
surgeon will come presently."
Then the foreman also left him, and he was alone. It was not in his
nature to give way to bodily pain, but he was glad the men were gone,
for he could not have borne much more in silence. He turned his head to
the wall and bit the edge of the leathern cushion. Now and then his
whole body shook convulsively.
He did not hear the door open again, for the torturing pain that shot
through him dulled all his other senses. He wished that he might faint
away, even for a moment, but his nerves were too sound for that.
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