With a sharp cry Marietta ran forward and knelt beside his head,
dropping her long mantle as she crossed the room. Pasquale uttered an
uncompromising exclamation of surprise.
"O, most holy Mary!" cried Nella, holding up her hands with the things
she carried.
Marietta believed that Zorzi was dead, for he was very white and he lay
quite still. At first she opened her eyes wide in horror, but in a
moment she sank down, covering her face. Pasquale knelt opposite her on
one knee, and began to turn Zorzi on his back. Nella was at his feet,
and she helped, with great gentleness.
"Do not be frightened, lady," said Pasquale reassuringly. "He has only
fainted. I left him on the bench, but you see he must have tried to get
up to feed the fire."
While he spoke he was lifting Zorzi as well as he could. Marietta
dropped her hands and slowly opened her eyes, and she knew that Zorzi
was alive when she saw his face, though it was ghastly and smeared with
grey ashes. But in those few moments she had felt what she could never
forget. It had been as if a vast sword-stroke had severed her body at
the waist, and yet left her heart alive.
"Can you help a little?" asked Pasquale. "If I could get him into my
arms, I could carry him alone."
Marietta sprang to her feet, all her energy and strength returning in a
moment.
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