Giulietta rose, and threw herself before the crucifix. A violent burst
of tears, the first she had shed, relieved her; and then calmly she
prayed aloud for strength to go through the task which she had
undertaken. The room was hot and oppressive; but she opened the
window, and the sweet air came in, fresh and reviving from the garden
below. She bathed her uncle's temples with aromatic waters, and poured
into his mouth a few drops of medicine. He opened his eyes, and turned
faintly on his pallet, but sank back, as though exhausted. Again he
stretched out his hand, as if in search for something, which failing
to find he moaned heavily. Giulietta perceived at once that parching
thirst was consuming him. From the balcony a flight of steps led to
the garden; she flew down them to the fountain, whose pure, cold water
made the shadow of the surrounding acacias musical as ever. She
returned with a full pitcher; and the eagerness with which the patient
drank told how much that draught had been desired. The cardinal raised
his head, but was quite unconscious; and all that long and fearful
night had Giulietta to listen to the melancholy complainings of
delirium.
The next day, she went to meet the gardener, who had waited, though,
as he owned, in hopelessness of her coming. How forcibly the sense of
the city's desolation rose before Giulietta, when she remembered that
her ignorance of the hour proceeded from there being no one now to
wind up the church-clocks! Again she returned to the unconscious
sufferer; but little needs it to dwell on the anxiety or the exertion
in which the next three days were passed.
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