In speaking these words her voice was infinitely sweet.
"You must know," she began, "that I had not intended to say this to you, but I thought of it when you spoke about breaking the plate at the dinner-table. I beg you to be careful on account of Uncle Piero's position. In his heart he feels as you do. If you only could have seen the letters he wrote me in 1848! But he is a servant of the Government. It is true his conscience is perfectly easy, for he knows that by engineering roads and water-works he is serving his country and not the Germans. But he must and will take certain precautions, and you—for love of him—must be cautious also."
"The Germans will soon be gone, Mamma!" Franco replied. "But do not worry; you shall see how prudent I will be."
"Oh, my dear! I have little more to see, I have only to see you two united and blessed by the Lord. When the Germans go, you will come to Looch to tell me of it."
Those small fields where the little cemetery of Castello is situated go by the name of Looch.
"But I had intended to speak to you of another matter," Signora Teresa went on, without giving Franco time to protest. He took her hands and pressed them, with difficulty restraining his tears.
"I must speak to you of Luisa," she said. "You must know your wife well."
"I do know her, Mamma! I know her as well as you do, and perhaps even better."
As he pronounced these words his whole being glowed and quivered in his passionate love for her who was the life of his life, the soul of his soul.
"Poor Franco!" said Signora Teresa, smiling tenderly. "No, listen to me, for there is something you do not know, of which you should be informed. Wait a moment."