“Come over by Roderigo’s bed,” Lucia said, “we have only a little time to talk before we leave.”

“Oh, but you must be excited!” Maria exclaimed.

“Look at her eyes,” Roderigo laughed, “of course she is.”

“Well, and why not,” Lucia demanded, “wouldn’t you be?” Roderigo shivered.

“If I were going this day, back to Napoli, I would die from joy,” he said.

“Nonsense, that’s what Lucia said about the King’s speaking to her,” Maria reminded, “but she’s still alive, and the King not only spoke to her but kissed her too.”

“Do you know,” Lucia said quietly, “sometimes I think perhaps I am dead and this is Heaven.”

“Heaven!” Roderigo laughed, “never, it is much too cold, see the sick yellow sun up there.”  He pointed to the window, “in Heaven the sun is hot and the sky is blue, just as you will find it to-morrow.  Oh, but I envy you.  What wouldn’t I give—­” He hesitated and looked at Maria, “No, I would not go if I could; I am happy here.”

Maria’s smile rewarded him.

“But surely after the war,” Lucia said, “you will both come to Napoli to live.”

“Perhaps,” Roderigo assented, “after the war.”

They were silent for a moment, aware for the first time of what the coming separation would mean.  Then Roderigo exclaimed gayly,

“But how solemn we are!  We must laugh.  I tell you, Lucia, when you see my old grandfather Vesuvius you must give him my best respects, for mind if you are not respectful to him he may do you some harm.”

“Oh, I will be very careful,” Lucia laughed, “but I will never call that cross old, smoking mountain my grandfather, I can promise you that.”

“Haven’t you some friends that Lucia could see?” Maria inquired, “or could she perhaps take a message to your family.”

“No.”  Roderigo shook his head, “she will not be near them, but perhaps—­” He turned to Lucia, “if you are ever walking along the shore below Captain Riccardi’s place, you may meet a soldier, an old man with a scar on his face; if you do, he is my uncle Enrico.”

“But what does he do on the beach?” Maria inquired.

“Oh, he watches to see that no one rows out to the boats in the bay without a passport, there are plenty of men who would like to leave without permission,” Roderigo explained, “My uncle is there to keep them safe in Italy.”

“Are they Austrians?” Lucia inquired.

Roderigo winked.

“They are Italian citizens on the face of things,” he replied, “but in their hearts—­” An expressive gesture finished the sentence.

Just as Maria was about to ask another question Beppi ran into the ward.

“Lucia, Lucia, come quickly, the American is packing Garibaldi up in a box, and you are missing all the fun.”

Lucia jumped up.

“Oh I must go and help,” she exclaimed, “I will see you again for good-by.”