Читать книгу Leonora D'Orco - G. P. R. James - Страница 12

When Lorenzo awoke--and his sleep was not of such long duration as fully to outlive the darkness--he found more than one person watching him. Close by his side sat Ramiro d'Orco, and near the foot of his bed the lamplight fell upon the well-known face of his faithful follower, Antonio. He felt faint and somewhat confused, and he had a throbbing of the brow and temples, which told him he was ill; but for some moments he remembered nothing of the events which had taken place the night before.

"How feel you, my young friend?" asked Ramiro, in a far more gracious tone than he commonly used; "yet speak low and carefully, for, though the antidote has overwrought the poison, you must long be watchful of your health, and make no exertion."

"You are very kind, Signor Ramiro," replied the young man. "I believe I was wounded last night, and that the blade was poisoned--yes, it was so, and I owe you my life."

"I speak not of that, Lorenzo," replied Ramiro; "I am right glad I was here, and could wish much that I could remain to watch you in your convalescence, for a relapse might be fatal; but I will trust you to hands more delicate, if not so skilful as my own. Men make bad nurses; women are the fit attendants for a sick room, and your pretty little cousin, Bianca Maria--as gentle and sweet as an angel--and my child Leonora, whom you know, shall be your companions. I will charge them both to watch you at all moments, and, under their tender care, I warrant you will soon recover. I myself must ride hence ere noon, for I must be in Rome ere ten days are over. Ere that you will be quite well; and should it be needful that Leonora should follow me, I will trust to your noble care to bring her on through this distracted country. I know you will reverence her youth and innocence for her father's sake, who has done all he could for you in a moment of great peril."