"I have said it, Jacopo," he added at length, "and tongue of mine shall
not belie the thought of my heart. Take away thy food then, and forget
all that is past; for what I have said hath not been said in scorn, but
out of regard to my own soul. Thou knowest how I have sorrowed for the
boy, but next to his loss I could mourn over thee--aye, more bitterly
than over any other of the fallen!"
The hard breathing of the Bravo was audible, but still he spoke not.
"Jacopo," continued the anxious fisherman, "do not mistake me. The pity
of the suffering and poor is not like the scorn of the rich and worldly.
If I touch a sore, I do not bruise it with my heel. Thy present pain is
better than the greatest of all thy former joys."
"Enough, old man," said the other in a smothered voice, "thy words are
forgotten. Eat without fear, for the offering is bought with earnings as
pure as the gleanings of a mendicant friar."
"I will trust to the kindness of St. Anthony and the fortune of my
hook," simply returned Antonio. "'Tis common for us of the Lagunes to go
to a supperless bed: take away the basket, good Jacopo, and let us speak
of other things."
The Bravo ceased to press his food upon the fisherman. Laying aside his
basket, he sat brooding over what had occurred.
"Hast thou come thus far for naught else, good Jacopo?" demanded the old
man, willing to weaken the shock of his refusal.
The question appeared to restore Jacopo to a recollection of his errand.
Pages:
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266