82 Lucia, the Organ-Maiden.

Ah, those happy days, they were too good to
last, and they did n’t. One day Paolo was taken
ill.

“We can’t go out to-day, little Lucia,” he said.
He often talked to her as if she were truly alive,
and as she did n’t know she was n't, perhaps it
was just as well.

Worse and worse grew Paolo, as he lay upon
his narrow bed in his one small room. Gradually
the stock of money which he and Lucia had earned,
dwindled, disappeared. One by one the bits of
furniture had to be sold. Then came a dreadful
day when Paolo pulled up the little window and
spoke to Lucia.

“ It almost breaks my heart,” he said, “ but we
must part, you and I. I am penniless. A man
has offered me a big sum for you. But I have
parted with everything else first, Lucia mia,” and
the poor fellow, pointed round the room, which
was indeed quite empty, save for the bed and
organ. “ But, if I live, I shall work hard and try
to buy you back again. Remember that, Lucia.”
Then Paolo stooped and kissed her, and no one