Everything had turned out well, even beyond her expectations.

The cab passed her at a brisk pace before she reached the top of the hill, and though she walked as fast as she could, it was no longer there when she had gone far enough to see the door.

The doctor, who was a busy man, had handed Marcello over to the men on duty at the entrance, with an order he had pencilled on his card while driving up, and had gone on at once.

But Regina was convinced that Marcello was there, as she hurried forward.
A man in blue linen clothes and a laced cap stopped her on the steps and asked what she wanted.
"A young man has just been brought here, very ill," she explained, "and I want to see him." "A very young man?
Fair?
Thin?
From the Campagna?
In rags ?" "Yes.

I want to see him." "You can see him to-morrow, if he is alive," answered the orderly in a business-like tone.
"To-morrow ?" repeated Regina, in a tone of profound disappointment.
"To-morrow is Sunday.