"Oh! doctor, pray look at him, examine him, tell us that it is nothing.
It can't be anything serious, since he was so well and gay but a little
while ago. It's nothing serious, is it?"

"You are right no doubt, Contessina, it can be nothing dangerous. We will
see."

However, on turning round, Doctor Giordano perceived the Cardinal, who
with regular, thoughtful footsteps had come back from the dining-room to
place himself at the foot of the bed. And while bowing, the doctor
doubtless detected a gleam of mortal anxiety in the dark eyes fixed upon
his own, for he added nothing but began to examine Dario like a man who
realises that time is precious. And as his examination progressed the
affable optimism which usually appeared upon his countenance gave place
to ashen gravity, a covert terror which made his lips slightly tremble.
It was he who had attended Monsignor Gallo when the latter had been
carried off so mysteriously; it was he who for imperative reasons had
then delivered a certificate stating the cause of death to be infectious
fever; and doubtless he now found the same terrible symptoms as in that
case, a leaden hue overspreading the sufferer's features, a stupor as of
excessive intoxication; and, old Roman practitioner that he was,
accustomed to sudden deaths, he realised that the /malaria/ which kills
was passing, that /malaria/ which science does not yet fully understand,
which may come from the putrescent exhalations of the Tiber unless it be
but a name for the ancient poison of the legends.

As the doctor raised his head his glance again encountered the black eyes
of the Cardinal, which never left him. "Signor Giordano," said his
Eminence, "you are not over-anxious, I hope? It is only some case of
indigestion, is it not?"