La Tinti, a true Sicilian, was floating on the
tide of a fantastic passion on the point of being gratified.
The doctor whispered a few words to Vendramin, and la Tinti was
uneasy.
"What are you plotting?" she inquired of the Prince's friend.
"Are you kind-hearted?" said the doctor in her ear, with the sternness
of an operator.
The words pierced to her comprehension like a dagger-thrust to her
heart.
"It is to save Emilio's life," added Vendramin.
"Come here," said the doctor to Clarina.
The hapless singer rose and went to the other end of the table where,
between Vendramin and the Frenchman, she looked like a criminal
between the confessor and the executioner.
She struggled for a long time, but yielded at last for love of Emilio.
The doctor's last words were:
"And you must cure Genovese!"
She spoke a word to the tenor as she went round the table. She
returned to the Prince, put her arm round his neck and kissed his hair
with an expression of despair which struck Vendramin and the
Frenchman, the only two who had their wits about them, then she
vanished into her room.
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