ostly and
fashionable doctor in Rome.

Dr. Fedi came with an assistant who carried a little case of
instruments. He examined the Countess, her breast, her side, and the
glands under her arms, shot out a solemn under-lip, put two fingers
inside his collar, twisted his head from side to side, and announced
that the patient must have a nurse immediately.

"Do you hear that, Roma? Doctor says that I must have a nurse. Of course
I must have a nurse. I'll have one of the English nursing Sisters.
Everybody has them now. They're foreigners, and if they talk they can't
do much mischief."

The Sister was sent for. She was a mild and gentle creature, in blue and
white, but she talked perpetually of her Mother Superior, who had been
bedridden for fifteen years, yet smiled sweetly all day long. That
exasperated the Countess and fretted her. When the doctor came again the
patient was worse.

"Your aunt must have dainties to tempt her appetite and so keep up her
strength."

"Do you hear, Roma?"

"You shall have everything you wish for, auntie."

"Well, I wish for strawberries. Everybody eats them who is ill at this
season."

The strawberries were bought, but the Countess scarcely touched them,
and they were finally consumed in the kitchen.

When the doctor came a third time the patient was much emaciated and her
skin had become sallow and earthy.

"It would not be right to conceal from you the gravity of your
condition, Countess," he said. "In such a case we always think it best
to tell a patient to make her peace with God."

"Oh, don't say that, doctor," whimpered the poor withered creature on
the bed.

"But while there's life there's hope, you know; and meantime I'll send
you an opiate to relieve the pain."

When the doctor was gone, the Countess sent for Roma.

"That Fedi is a fool," she said. "I don't know what people see in him. I
should like to try the Bambino of Ara C[oe]li. The Cardinal Vicar had
it, and why shouldn't I? They say it has worked miracles. It may be
dear, but if I die you will always reproach yourself. If you are short
of money you can sign a bill at six months, and before that the poor
maniac woman will be gone and you'll be the wife of the Baron."

"If you really think the Bambino will...."

"It will! I know it will."

"Very well, I will send for it."

Roma sent a letter to the Superior of the Franciscans at the Friary of
Ara C[oe]li asking that the little figure of the infant Christ, w