The maid tentatively rapped on the door and entered. She attempted a clumsy curtsy.
"Cavaliere, Signore, she won't respond. I've tried everything – hot washcloth, cold washcloth, herbs, garlic, music–"
"This is ridiculous!" Luciano yelled. "We can't lose her to incompetence. She will wake up, I know it. But she needs proper care. Please–" he turned to Rodolpho with an imploring look on his face. "Let me stay with her. I think the answer lies in the future – my old time. I...I need to stravagate. And afterwards, I can keep vigil."
Rodolpho could see that the boy would not be stopped. "Yes, Luciano. Do what you must. I have faith in you – please don't try anything dangerous." Addressing the maid in a kindlier tone, he added, "Get some rest. You deserve it."
The girl nodded frantically and scrambled out of the room. Luciano took a deep breath and walked into the chamber in which the Duchessa slumbered.
oooooooooosection breakoooooooooo
She was smiling. Even in her condition – unconscious, pale, with her hair cushioning her head, dressed in a borrowed shift – the Duchessa was beautiful. A tenderness pulsed through Luciano before the anger returned. Why Arianna? Why now? And how could it be? From the experience of navigating a little boat through the flooded monastery in Giglia, he knew that the Talians had potent drugs. But the likes of what had put out Arianna were still at least a few centuries away.
Kneeling at her bedside, he could see there was no alternative to stravagation. And despite the pain, he would do it. Slowly drawing the pressed flower that he wore around his neck from inside his shirt, he began searching for that part of his mind that would calm him and put him to sleep.