Now, Signor Andrea, I am ready for you. Mind, my child, a
walk every day in the open air outside the town, or you will fall
ill, take my word for it!"
Nanina promised compliance; but she spoke rather absently, and
seemed scarcely conscious of the kind familiarity which marked
the doctor's manner. The truth was, that all her thoughts were
occupied with what he had been saying by Fabio's bedside. She had
not lost one word of the conversation while the doctor was
talking of his patient, and of the conditions on which his
recovery depended. "Oh, if that proof which would cure him could
only be found!" she thought to herself, as she stole back
anxiously to the bedside when the room was empty.
On getting home that day she found a letter waiting for her, and
was greatly surprised to see that it was written by no less a
person than the master-sculptor, Luca Lomi. It was very short;
simply informing her that he had just returned to Pisa, and that
he was anxious to know when she could sit to him for a new
bust--a commission from a rich foreigner at Naples.
Nanina debated with herself for a moment whether she should
answer the letter in the hardest way, to her, by writing, or, in
the easiest way, in person; and decided on going to the studio
and telling the master-sculptor that it would be impossible for
her to serve him as a model, at least for some time to come.
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