were seated at the bedside of a girl of about twenty who, propped up on pillows, wearing a pretty lace jacket, was listening to their chatter, her eyes soft and tender. One could see at a glance her resemblance to her brothers. A vase of wild flowers stood on her table, beside a dish of fruit and several books. “Won’t you go in?” the nurse murmured.
“Lucia will be pleased to see you.” I shook my head and turned away. I felt I could not bear to intrude upon this happy family party. But at the foot of the staircase I drew up and begged her to tell me all she knew about these boys. She was eager to do so.
“They were”, she explained, “quite alone in the world, except for this sister, Lucia. Their father, a widower, a well-known singer, had been killed in the early part of the war. Shortly afterward a bomb had destroyed their home and thrown the three children into the streets. They had always known a comfortable and cultured life – Lucia had 12th - - Page herself been training as a singer– and they had suffered horribly from near starvation and exposure to the cold winter”.
For months they had barely kept themselves alive in a sort of shelter they built with their own hands amidst the rubble. Then for three years the Germans ruled the city. The boys grew to hate the Germans. When the resistance movement began secretly to form they were among the first to join.
When the war was over, and we had peace at last, they came back to their beloved sister. And they found her –suffering from tuberculosis of the spine.” She paused, took a quick breath. “Did they give up? I do not have to answer that question.
They brought her here, persuaded us to take her into the hospital. In the twelve months she has been our patient she has made good progress. There is every hope that one day she will walk– and sing–again.” “Of course, everything is so difficult