boy! my boy! And I, wicked one that I was, sent you to this!"

All the time she who spoke was busy binding something to the place on my
side where the pain burned like white metal. And as she did so she
crooned softly over me, saying as before--"My poor boy! my poor boy!" It
was like the murmuring of a dove over its nestling. Again and again I
was borne away from her and from myself on the floods of great waters.
The universe alternately opened out to infinite horrors of vastness, and
shrank to pinpoint dimensions to crush me. Through it all I heard my
love's voice, and was content to let my head bide just where it lay.

Ever and anon I came to the surface, as a diver does lest he die. I
heard myself say--"It was an error in judgment!" ... Then after a
pause--"nothing but an error in judgment."

And I felt that on which my head rested shake with a little earthquake
of hysterical laughter. The strain had been too great, yet I had said
the right word.

"Yes," she said softly, "my poor boy, it has been indeed an error in
judgment for both of us!"

"But a blessed error, Lucia," I said, answering her when she least
expected it.

A dark shape flitted before my dazzled eyes.

The Countess looked up. "Leonardi!" she called, "tell me, has one of
your people done this?"