Nevertheless he went to the little boy’s bedside.
Giacomo was breathing faintly. His face was painfully thin, his eyes preternaturally bright. He spoke faintly, but his mind seemed to be wandering.
“Where is Filippo?” he said. “I want to see Filippo.”
In this wish the padrone heartily concurred. He, too, would have been glad to see Filippo, but the pleasure would not have been mutual.
“Why do you want to see Filippo?” he demanded, in his customary harsh tone.
Giacomo heard and answered, though unconscious who spoke to him.
“I want to kiss him before I die,” he said.
“What makes you think you are going to die?” said the tyrant, struck by the boy’s appearance.
“I am so weak,” murmured Giacomo. “Stoop down, Filippo. I want to tell you something in your ear.”
Moved by curiosity rather than humanity, the padrone stooped over, and Giacomo whispered: