“That is true. I will go and ask him.”
Giacomo still lay upon his hard pallet, receiving very little attention. His fever had increased, and he was quite sick. He rolled from one side to the other in his restlessness. He needed medical attention, but the padrone was indifferent, and none of the boys would have dared to call a doctor without his permission. As he lay upon his bed, the padrone entered the room with a hurried step.
“Where is Giacomo?” he demanded, harshly.
“Here I am, signore padrone,” answered the little boy, trembling, as he always did when addressed by the tyrant.
“Did Filippo come and speak with you this morning, before he went out?”
“Si, signore.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked me how I felt.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him I felt sick.”