When the morning came it seemed to Signor Fortini as if be should
have to do all his work over again. He found the Marchese up and
dressed. He had not shaved himself, however,--declaring, with
abundant appearance of truth, that, in the state he then was, it was
utterly beyond his power to do so, and he absolutely refused to
allow it to be done for him; and the effect of the stubbly grisled
beard of a week's growth or so on the hollow lantern jaws, which all
the city had been accustomed to see clean shaved, and plump, and
florid with health,--was such as to render him barely recognizable
as the same man by the eyes that had known him all his life. It
seemed, too, to the lawyer that the shocking change which had taken
place in him was even more painfully marked by his attempt to dress
himself in his usual manner than it had been in his chamber wrapper.
His clothes, which were wont to fit so well, and set off to
advantage his well-made and stalwart figure, hung about him in bags
and pantaloon-like folds, a world too wide for his shrunken form.
On the first entrance of the lawyer he protested that the effort was
altogether beyond his strength,--that it was impossible for him to
go through the ordeal. Did they want him to die before their eyes on
the benches of the court?
A renewed suggestion by Fortini to the effect that the only means by
which the necessity could be avoided would be by a certificate from
the medical authority trusted in such matters by the court--his own
old friend the Professor Tomosarchi, produced only a reiterated and
violent declaration that he would not receive any visit from the
Professor.
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