Brave as Regina was, she did not dare to wait for the carabineers when they came by on their beat and to tell them the truth, for she had the Italian peasant's horror and dread of the law and its visible authority; and moreover she was quite sure that Paoluccio would murder her if she told the secret.
"If I could only take you to Rome!" she whispered, bending over him when he had swallowed the contents of the glass.

"You could tell me where your friends are." "Rome ?" he repeated, with a vacant questioning.
She nodded and smiled, and then sighed.

She had long been sure that the fever had affected his memory, and she had tried many times to awaken it.
She loved him because he had the face of an angel, and was fair-haired, and seemed so gentle and patient, and smiled so sweetly when she kissed him.

That was all.

He could thank her; he could tell her that he was better or worse; he could speak of what he saw; he could even tell her that she was beautiful, and that was much.