So he went away for the day.  But presently Regina came and demanded admittance according to the promise she had received, and she was immediately brought to the Superintendent’s office, for he had given very clear instructions to this effect in case the girl came again.  He had not told the Chief of Police about her, for he thought it would be amusing to do a little detective work on his own account, and he anticipated the triumph of finding out Marcello’s story alone, and of then laying the facts before the authorities, just to show what ordinary common sense could do without the intervention of the law.

Regina was ushered into the high cool room where the Superintendent sat alone, and the heavy door closed behind her.  He was a large man with close-cropped hair and a short brown beard, and he had kind brown eyes.  Regina came forward a few steps and then stood still, looking at him, and waiting for him to speak.  He was astonished at her beauty, and at once decided that she had a romantic attachment for Marcello, and probably knew all about him.  He leaned back in his chair, and pointed to a seat near him.

“Pray sit down,” he said.  “I wish to have a little talk with you before you go upstairs to see Marcello.”

“How is he?” asked Regina, eagerly.  “Is he worse?”

“He is much better.  But sit down, if you please.  You shall stay with him as long as you like, or as long as it is good for him.  You may come every day if you wish it.”

“Every day?” cried Regina in delight.  “They told me that I could only come on Sunday.”

“Yes.  That is the rule, my dear child.  But I can give you permission to come every day, and as the poor young man seems to have no friends, it is very fortunate for him that you can be with him.  You will cheer him and help him to get well.”

“Thank you, thank you!” answered the girl fervently, as she sat down.

A great lady of Rome had been to see the Superintendent about a patient on the previous afternoon; he did not remember that she moved with more dignity than this peasant girl, or with nearly as much grace.  Regina swept the folds of her short coarse skirt forward and sideways a little, so that they hid her brown woollen ankles as she took her seat, and with the other hand she threw back the end of the kerchief from her face.

“You do not mind telling me your name?” said the Superintendent in a questioning tone.

“Spalletta Regina,” answered the girl promptly, putting her family name first, according to Italian custom.  “I am of Rocca di Papa.”

“Thank you.  I shall remember that.  And you say that you know this poor young man.  Now, what is his name, if you please?  He does not seem able to remember anything about himself.”

“I have always called him Marcello,” answered Regina.

“Indeed?  You call him Marcello?  Yes, yes.  Thank you.  But, you know, we like to write down the full name of each patient in our books.  Marcello, and then?  What else?”