"Hast thou news for me, boy? What tidings from thy mother?"
Jacopo bowed his head to conceal the anguish occasioned by this question, which he now heard for the hundredth time.
"She is happy, father—happy as one can be, who so well loves thee, when away from thy side."
"Does she speak of me often?"
"The last word that I heard from her lips, was thy name."
"Holy Maria bless her! I trust she remembers me in her prayers?"
"Doubt it not, father, they are the prayers of an angel!"
"And thy patient sister? thou hast not named her, son."
"She, too, is well, father."
"Has she ceased to blame herself for being the innocent cause of my sufferings?"