And having bound up his hand again, as well as he could manage with
his teeth and his left hand, he threw himself upon his bed, and
closed his eyes.

He was soon waked up from a sort of slumber by the rays of the
bright moonlight, and also by the pain of his hand; he had just
risen for more cold water to soothe its throbbings, when he heard
the sound of some one at the door. Laurella stood before him.

She came in without a question, took off the handkerchief she had
tied over her head, and placed her little basket upon the table;
then she drew a deep breath.

"You are come to fetch your handkerchief," he said. "You need not
have taken that trouble. In the morning I would have asked Giuseppe
to take it to you."

"It is not the handkerchief," she said quickly. "I have been up
among the hills to gather herbs to stop the blood; see here." And
she lifted the lid of her little basket.

"Too much trouble," he said, not in bitterness--"far too much
trouble. I am better, much better; but if I were worse, it would be
no more than I deserve. Why did you come at such a time? If any one
should see you? You know how they talk, even when they don't know
what they are saying."

"I care for no one's talk," she said, passionately. "I came to see
your hand, and put the herbs upon it; you cannot do it with your
left."