"Hadst thou not sorrows enough without this? Now that thou art about to join them, it will be pleasant to know that they have so long been happy."
"And thou?—thou wilt be alone—give me thy hand—poor Jacopo!"
The Bravo reached forth and took the feeble member of his parent; it was clammy and cold.
"Jacopo," continued the captive, whose mind still sustained the body, "I have prayed thrice within the hour: once for my own soul—once for the peace of thy mother—lastly, for thee!"
"Bless thee, father!—bless thee! I have need of prayer!"
"I have asked of God favor in thy behalf. I have bethought me of all thy love and care—of all thy devotion to my age and sufferings. When thou wert a child, Jacopo, tenderness for thee tempted me to acts of weakness: I trembled lest thy manhood might bring upon me pain and repentance. Thou hast not known the yearnings of a parent for his offspring, but thou hast well requited them. Kneel, Jacopo, that I may ask of God, once more, to remember thee."
"I am at thy side, father."
The old man raised his feeble arms, and with a voice whose force appeared reviving, he pronounced a fervent and solemn benediction.
"The blessing of a dying parent will sweeten thy life, Jacopo," he added after a pause, "and give peace to thy last moments."
"It will do the latter, father."