Is there no hope of
our being able to meet soon?"
"Thou wilt meet my mother--yes, that pleasure will come at last!"
"It is a weary time since any of my blood, but thee, have stood in my
sight. Kneel, that I may bless thee."
Jacopo, who had risen under his mental torture, obeyed, and bowed his
head in reverence to receive the paternal benediction. The lips of the
old man moved, and his eyes were turned to Heaven, but his language was
of the heart, rather than that of the tongue. Gelsomina bent her head to
her bosom, and seemed to unite her prayers to those of the prisoner.
When the silent but solemn ceremony was ended, each made the customary
sign of the cross, and Jacopo kissed the wrinkled hand of the captive.
"Hast thou hope for me?" the old man asked, this pious and grateful duty
done. "Do they still promise to let me look upon the sun again?"
"They do. They promise fair."
"Would that their words were true! I have lived on hope for a weary
time--I have now been within these walls more than four years,
methinks."
Jacopo did not answer, for he knew that his father named the period only
that he himself had been permitted to see him.
"I built upon the expectation that the Doge would remember his ancient
servant, and open my prison-doors."
Still Jacopo was silent, for the Doge, of whom the other spoke, had long
been dead.
"And yet I should be grateful, for Maria and the saints have not
forgotten me.
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