"
"And are there no remedies?" lamented Lorenzo, wringing his hands. "No
means at least of prolonging your life?"
"There is such a means; and Brunelli recommends it. The application of
the greatest possible heat, the production of a continual perspiration,
which may a little retard the progress of the evil, and perhaps prolong
my life for a few weeks!
"Lorenzo, it is my duty to struggle every day with death. I have yet
much to complete before I die, yet much labor before I go to my eternal
rest, and, as far as I can, I must bring to an end what I have commenced
for the welfare of my people! Come, Lorenzo, let us return to the
Vatican; set pans of coals in my room, procure me furs and a glowing hot
sun! I would yet live some weeks!"
With feverish impetuosity Ganganelli grasped Lorenzo's arm and drew him
away. Then, suddenly stopping, he turned toward his favorite place.
"Lorenzo," he said in a low tone, and with deep sadness, "it was yet
very pleasant in the Franciscan cloister. Why did we not remain there?
Only see, my friend, how beautifully the sun glitters there among the
pines, and how delightfully this air fans us! Ah, Lorenzo, this world is
so beautiful, so very beautiful! Why must I leave it so soon?"
Lorenzo made no answer; he could not speak for tears.
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