“—­and see that the room is kept wholesomely hot, and the doors and windows closed tight.  Keep Count Angelo nicely covered up with six or seven blankets, and when he is thirsty—­which will be frequently—­moisten a ’rag in the vapor of the tea kettle and let his brother suck it.  When he is hungry—­which will also be frequently he must not be humored oftener than every seven or eight hours; then toast part of a cracker until it begins to brown, and give it to his brother.”

“That is all very well, as far as Angelo is concerned,” said Luigi, “but what am I to eat?”

“I do not see that there is anything the matter with you,” the doctor answered, “you may, of course, eat what you please.”

“And also drink what I please, I suppose?”

“Oh, certainly—­at present.  When the violent and continuous perspiring has reduced your strength, I shall have to reduce your diet, of course, and also bleed you, but there is no occasion for that yet awhile.”  He turned to Aunt Patsy and said:  “He must be put to bed, and sat up with, and tended with the greatest care, and not allowed to stir for several days and nights.”

“For one, I’m sacredly thankful for that,” said Luigi, “it postpones the funeral—­I’m not to be drowned to-day, anyhow.”

Angelo said quietly to the doctor: 

“I will cheerfully submit to all your requirements, sir, up to two o’clock this afternoon, and will resume them after three, but cannot be confined to the house during that intermediate hour.”

“Why, may I ask?”

“Because I have entered the Baptist communion, and by appointment am to be baptised in the river at that hour.”

“Oh, insanity!—­it cannot be allowed!”

Angelo answered with placid firmness: 

“Nothing shall prevent it, if I am alive.”

“Why, consider, my dear sir, in your condition it might prove fatal.”

A tender and ecstatic smile beamed from Angelo’s eyes, and he broke forth in a tone of joyous fervency: 

“Ah, how blessed it would be to die for such a cause—­it would be martyrdom!”

“But your brother—­consider your brother; you would be risking his life, too.”

“He risked mine an hour ago,” responded Angelo, gloomily; “did he consider me?” A thought swept through his mind that made him shudder.  “If I had not run, I might have been killed in a duel on the Sabbath day, and my soul would have been lost—­lost.”

“Oh, don’t fret, it wasn’t in any danger,” said Luigi, irritably; “they wouldn’t waste it for a little thing like that; there’s a glass case all ready for it in the heavenly museum, and a pin to stick it up with.”

Aunt Patsy was shocked, and said: 

“Looy, Looy!—­don’t talk so, dear!”

Rowena’s soft heart was pierced by Luigi’s unfeeling words, and she murmured to herself, “Oh, if I but had the dear privilege of protecting and defending him with my weak voice!—­but alas! this sweet boon is denied me by the cruel conventions of social intercourse.”