the weight that is pressing his faculties down.
I repeat it, Signor Andrea, nothing will rouse him from his delusion
that he is the victim of a supernatural interposition but the production
of some startling, practical proof of his error. At present he is in the
position of a man who has been imprisoned from his birth in a dark room,
and who denies the existence of daylight. If we cannot open the shutters
and show him the sky outside, we shall never convert him to a knowledge
of the truth."

Saying these words, the doctor turned to lead the way out of the room,
and observed Nanina, who had moved from the bedside on his entrance,
standing near the door. He stopped to look at her, shook his head
good-humoredly, and called to Marta, who happened to be occupied in an
adjoining room.

"Signora Marta," said the doctor, "I think you told me some time ago
that your pretty and careful little assistant lives in your house. Pray,
does she take much walking exercise?"

"Very little, Signor Dottore. She goes home to her sister when she
leaves the palace. Very little walking exercise, indeed."

"I thought so! Her pale cheeks and heavy eyes told me as much. Now, my
dear," said the doctor, addressing Nanina, "you are a very good girl,
and I am sure you will attend to what I tell you. Go out every morning
before you come here, and take a walk in the fresh air. You are too
young not to suffer by being shut up in close rooms every day, unless
you get some regular exercise. Take a good long walk in the morning, or
you will fall into my hands as a patient, and be quite unfit to continue
your attendance here. Now, Signor Andrea, I am ready for you. Mind, my
child, a walk every day in the open air outside the town, or you will
fall ill, take my word for it!"

Nanina promised compliance; but she spoke rather absently, and seemed
scarcely conscious of the kind familiarity which marked the doctor's
manner. The truth was, that all her thoughts were occupied with what
he had been saying by Fabio's bedside. She had not lost one word of the
conversation while the doctor was talking of his patient, and of the
conditions on which his recovery depended. "Oh, if that proof which
would cure him could only be found!" she thought to herself, as she
stole back anxiously to the bedside when the room was empty.

On getting home that day she found a letter waiting for her, and was
greatly surprised to see that it was written by no less a person than
the