, find out what it is like.
At the same time, you will settle for ever any doubts you have about
really loving Regina."

"Perhaps you are right. It would only be for a few days."

"And besides," Folco continued, "if you have not yet found it dull at
Pontresina, you certainly will before long. There is no reason why you
should lead the life of an invalid, for you are quite strong now."

"Oh, quite. I always tell Regina so, but she insists that I am too thin,
and it amuses her to take care of me."

"Naturally. That is how you first made acquaintance. A woman who has
once taken care of a man she loves wants him to be ever afterwards an
invalid, for ever getting better! A man gets tired of that in time. It
was a great pity you left Paris just when I came, for there are many
things we could have enjoyed together there."

"I daresay," Marcello answered, not paying much attention to the other's
words.

"Take my advice, my dear boy," said Folco. "Come away with me for a few
days. I will wait here till you are quite ready, for of course you
cannot be sure of getting off at once. You will have to prepare Regina
for this."

"Of course. I am not sure that it is possible at all."

Folco laughed gaily.

"Anything is possible that you really wish to do," he said.

"Regina may insist upon coming with me."

"Nonsense. Women always submit in the end, and they never die of it.
Assert yourself, Marcello! Be a man! You cannot be ordered about like a
child by any woman, not even if she has saved your life, not even if
she loves you to distraction. You have a right to a will of your own."

"I know. And yet--oh, I wish I knew what I ought to do!"

"Think over all I have said, and you will see that I am right," said
Folco, rising from the table. "And if you take my advice, you will be
doing what is fair and honest by Regina as well as by yourself. Your own
conscience must tell you that."

Poor Marcello was not very sure what had become of his own conscience
during the past year, and Folco's arguments swayed him as he groped for
something definite to follow, and found nothing but what Corbario chose
to thrust into his hand.

As they stood by the table, a servant brought a note on a little salver,
holding it out to them as if he were not sure which of them was to
receive it. Both glanced at the address; it was for Corbario, who took
it quickly and put it into his pocket; but Marcello had recognised the
handwriting--that rather