XXXIII
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WHENIopenedmyeyesIfoundmyselfonabedinadarkenedroom.Bymysidewassittingawoman.Ilookedather,andwonderedwhoshewas.
'Whothedevilareyou?'Iasked,somewhatimpolitely.
Atthewordssomeoneelsesteppedforwardandbentoverme.IrecognisedAndreathenIrecollectedwhathadoccurred.
'WhereistheOrso?'Iasked.'Ishesafe?'
'Doyoufeelbetter?'hesaid.
'Iamallright.WhereistheOrso?'Itriedtositup,butmyheadswam.Ifelthorriblysickandsankback.
'Whatisthematter?'Imoaned.
'Onlyabrokenhead,'saidAndrea,withalittlesmile.'Ifyouhadbeenarealserving-man,insteadofafinegentlemanmasquerading,youwouldn'tthinktwiceaboutit.'
'Havepityonmyinfirmities,dearboy,'Imurmuredfaintly.'Idon'tpretendthatmyheadisaswoodenasyours.'
Thenheexplained.
'Whenyouwerebeatendowntheymadearushfortheoldmasterandborehimoff.'
'Oh!'Icried.'IpromisedCheccotolookaft
