"Well, what is it? Won't you tell me what it is? You, Isidoro Pane, what happened?" "Why, nothing happened. He called out, and that was all. May be he had a bad dream. We'll give him a drink of water. There now, here's a little fresh water. That's it, he wants it--see how he is drinking! You were thirsty, weren't you? It's the fever, you see; that's what ails him!" Giacobbe sat up in bed, and after drinking the water calmed down. He had on an old white knitted cotton shirt, through which could be seen the outline of his small wiry body, the thick growth of black hair on his chest contrasting oddly with the perfectly smooth face and bald head above it. He remained in a sitting posture, leaning forward, and thoughtfully passing his well hand up and down the injured arm. "Yes," he remarked suddenly in the panting, querulous tone of a person with fever. "Yes; I had a bad dream. Whew! but it was hot! Holy San Costantino, how hot it was! I was dreaming of hell." "Dear me, dear me, what an idea!" said his sister reprovingly; and Uncle Isidoro said playfully: "And so it was hot, little spring bird?" The sick man seemed to be annoyed. "Don't joke, and don't say 'little spring bird.' I don't like it; I shall never say it again, and I shall never laugh at any one again. "Listen to me," he said, bending forward and continuing to rub his arm. "Hell is a dreadful place. I've got to die, and I've got to tell you something first. Now listen, but don't get frightened, Anna-Rosa, because I am certainly going to die; and Uncle Isidoro, you know it already, so I can tell you. Well, this is it. It was I who killed Basile Ledda." Aunt Anna-Rosa's eyes and mouth flew wide open; she leaned against the side of the bed, and began to shake convulsively. "_I_ knew it already?" exclaimed Isidoro. "Why, I knew nothing at all!" Giacobbe raised a terrified face, and began to tremble as well. "Don't have me arrested," he implored. "I'm going to die, anyhow; you can tell them then. I thought you knew. What is the matter, Anna-Ro? Don't be frightened; don't have me arrested." "It's not that," she said, raising herself. Her first sensation of having received a blow on the head was passing away, but now, in its place, there came a singular feeling of some change that was taking place within her; her own spirit seemed to have fled in dismay, and in its place had come something that regarded the world, life, heaven, earth--God himself--from a totally different standpoint; and everything viewed in the light of this new spirit was full of horror, misery, chaos. "I will not tell any one. No, no! But how could you ever suppose that I knew about it?" protested Isidoro. He felt no especial horror of Giacobbe, only profound pity; but at the same time he thought it would be better, now, for him to die. Then, simultaneously, their thoughts all flew to Costantino, and hardly left him again.