"As soon as I am quite well we shall be
married."
"Certainly, my dear boy, certainly," replied Kalmon, as if it were quite
a matter of course. "You must make haste and get well as soon as
possible."
He glanced at Regina's face, and as her eyes met his she shook her head
almost imperceptibly, and smiled. Kalmon was not quite sure what she
meant. He made a sign to her to go with him to the window, which was at
some distance from the bed.
"It may be long before he is well," he whispered. "There must be an
operation."
She nodded, for she knew that.
"And do you expect to marry him when he is recovered?"
She shook her head and laughed, glancing at Marcello.
"He is a gentleman," she whispered, close to Kalmon's ear. "How could he
marry me?"
"You love him," Kalmon answered.
Again she nodded, and laughed too.
"What would you do for him?" asked Kalmon, looking at her keenly.
"Die for him!"
She meant it, and he saw that she did. Her eyes shone as she spoke, and
then the lids drooped a little and she looked at him almost fiercely. He
turned from her and his fingers softly tapped the marble window-sill. He
was asking himself whether he could swear to Marcello's identity, in
case he should be called upon to give evidence. On what could he base
his certainty? Was he himself certain, or was he merely moved by the
strong resemblance he saw, in spite of long illness and consequent
emaciation? Was the visiting surgeon right in believing that the little
depression in the skull had caused a suspension of memory? Such things
happened, no doubt, but it also happened that doctors were mistaken and
that nothing came of such operations.
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