name, but men of science know how deceptive coincidences can be.  Besides, the girl was very intelligent.  She might easily have heard about the real Marcello’s disappearance, and she was clever enough to have given her lover the name in the hope that he might be taken for the lost boy at least long enough to ensure him a great deal more comfort and consideration in the hospital than he otherwise would have got; she was clever enough to have seen that it would be a mistake to say outright that he was Marcello Consalvi, if she was practising a deception.  Kalmon did not know what to think, and he wished the operation could be performed before Corbario came; but that was impossible.

Regina stood beside him, waiting for him to speak again.

“Do you need money?” he asked abruptly, with a sharp look at her face.

“No, thank you, sir,” she answered.  “He has everything here.”

“But for yourself?” He kept his eyes on her.

“I thank you, sir, I want nothing.”  Her look met his almost coldly as she spoke.

“But when he is well again, how shall you live?”

“I shall work for him, if it turns out that he has no friends.  We shall soon know, for his memory will come back after the operation.  The doctors say so.  They know.”

“And if he has friends after all?  If he is really the man I think he is, what then?  What will become of you?”

“I do not know.  I am his.  He can do what he likes with me.”

The Professor did not remember to have met any one who took quite such an elementary view of life, but he could not help feeling a sort of sympathy for the girl’s total indifference to consequences.

“I shall come to see him again,” he said presently, turning back towards the bed and approaching Marcello.  “Are you quite sure that you never saw me before?” he asked, taking the young man’s hand.

“I don’t remember,” answered Marcello, wearily.  “They all want me to remember,” he added almost peevishly.  “I would if I could, if it were only to please them!”

Kalmon went away, for he saw that his presence tired the patient.  When he was gone Regina sat down beside the bed and stroked Marcello’s hand, and talked soothingly to him, promising that no one should tease him to remember things.  By and by, as she sat, she laid her head on the pillow beside him, and her sweet breath fanned his face, while a strange light played in her half-closed eyes.

“Heart of my heart,” she sighed happily.  “Love of my soul!  Do you know that I am all yours, soul and body, and earrings too?” And she laughed low.

“You are the most beautiful woman in the world,” Marcello answered.  “I love you!”

She laughed again, and kissed him.

“You love me better than Aurora,” she said suddenly.

“Aurora?”

“Yes, for you have forgotten her.  But you will not forget Regina now, not even when you are very, very old, and your golden hair is all grey.  You will never forget Regina, now!”