The breeze
came in strong currents over the roofs of the town, and causing the
masts of the port to rock, it lighted on the Lagunes, without the tiers
of the shipping. From this point to the barrier of sand, it was apparent
by the stooping sails and the struggles of the gondoliers who pulled
towards the quay, that the air was swift. Without the Lido itself, the
element was shadowed and fitful, while further in the distance the
troubled waters, with their crests of foam, sufficiently proved its
power.
"Santa Maria be praised!" exclaimed Jacopo, when his understanding eye
had run over the near and distant view--"they are already far down the
coast, and with a wind like this they cannot fail to reach their haven
in a few hours. Let us go to the cell."
Gelsomina smiled when he assured her of the safety of the fugitives, but
her look saddened when he changed the discourse. Without reply, however,
she did as he desired, and in a very few moments they were standing by
the side of the prisoner's pallet. The latter did not appear to observe
their entrance, and Jacopo was obliged to announce himself.
"Father!" he said, with that melancholy pathos which always crept into
his voice when he addressed the old man, "it is I."
The prisoner turned, and though, evidently much enfeebled since the
last visit, a wan smile gleamed on his wasted features.
"And thy mother, boy?" he asked, so eagerly as to cause Gelsomina to
turn hastily aside.
Pages:
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455