ital
and inquire after the man who had been stabbed, and who called himself
Vasari.

He made his request to see the patient, and was admitted with such
readiness that he suspected the case to be a dangerous one. And, indeed,
the house-surgeon acknowledged this to be so. The stab, he said, had
gone wonderfully near the vital parts; a hair's-breadth deviation to the
right or left, and Vasari would have been a dead man. It was still
uncertain whether he would recover, and all agitation must be avoided,
as he was not allowed either to move or speak.

"I am not sure whether he is the young man I used to know or not," said
Brian, doubtfully. "Vasari--was there a Christian name given as well?"

"Yes: Bernardino, and in another place simply Dino. Was that the name of
your friend?"

"Yes, it was. If I saw him I should be sure. I don't suppose that my
appearance would agitate him," said Brian, little suspecting the deep
interest and importance which would attach to his visit in Dino's mind.

"Come, then." And the surgeon led the way to the bed, hidden by a screen
from the rest of the ward, where Dino lay.

Brian passed with the nurse inside the screen, and looked pityingly at
the patient.

"Yes," he said, in a low tone, "it is the man I know."

He thought that Dino was unconscious, but at the sound of his voice--low
though it was--the patient opened his eyes, and fixed them upon Brian's
face. Brian had said that his appearance would produce no agitation, but
he was mistaken. A sudden change passed over that pale countenance.
Dino's great dark eyes seemed to grow larger than ever; his face assumed
a still more deathly tinge; the look of mingled anguish and horror was
unmistakable. He tried to speak, he tried to rise in his bed, but the
effort was too great, and he sank back insensible. The indignant nurse
hustled Brian away, and would not allow him to return; he ought to have
known, she said, that the sight of him would excite the patient. Brian
had not known, and was grieved to think that his visit had been
unacceptable. But that did not prevent him from writing an account of
the state in which he had found Dino Vasari to his friend, Padre
Cristoforo; nor from calling at the hospital every day to inquire after
the state of his Italian friend. He was glad to hear at last that Dino
was out of danger; then, that he was growing a little stronger; and then
that he had expressed a desire to see the English gentleman when he
c