went out to look at her, but she saw him coming and moved away, drawing
her cotton kerchief half across her face. Regina's only fear was that
Mommo might recognise her, in which case she would inevitably be
questioned by the carabineers. It was characteristic of the class in
which she had been brought up, that while she entertained a holy dread
of being cross-questioned by them, she felt the most complete conviction
that Marcello was safe in their hands. She had meant that he should
somehow be taken off the cart at the gate, probably by the inspectors,
and conveyed at once to the great hospital near by. She knew nothing
about hospitals, and supposed that when he was once there, she might be
allowed to come and take care of him. It would be easy, she thought, to
invent some story to account for her interest in him. But she could do
nothing until Mommo was gone, and he might recognise her figure even if
he could not see her face.

Finding that nothing more was wanted of him, and that he was in no
immediate danger of penal servitude for having been found with a sick
man on his cart, Mommo started his mules up the paved hill towards the
church, walking beside them, as the carters mostly do within the city.
The crowd dispersed, the small boys went off in search of fresh matter
for contemptuous comment, and Regina went boldly to the door of the
guard-house.

"Can I be of any use with the sick man?" she asked of the inspector who
had seen her through the window.

The inspector prided himself on his gallantry and good education.

"Signorina," he said, lifting his round hat with a magnificent gesture,
"if you were to look only once at a dying man, he would revive and live