That best could aid his own; show’d how my sire,
The priest, Doretta, all agreed in this.
And then, in contrast with myself, I sketch’d
A nature all deem’d fitted for his moods.
I may have sinn’d in it; but, grim as fate,
My father’s face, recall’d, would urge me on;
I noted all Doretta’s nobler traits;
And when I thought he must my aim surmise,
And while he held his gaze upon the floor,
As though he gave assent, at last I spake