You cannot help me, for no one can.

But you have done me some little momentary good, just by sitting there and hearing my story.

Beyond that there is nothing to be done." The wretched man closed his eyes, and again leaned back against the bright red wall, which threw his white face and dark-ringed eyes into strong and painful relief.

Don Teodoro was silent, bending his mind upon the hideous problem.

Bosio misunderstood him and spoke again without moving.
"I know," he said.