Guiseppe, too, was soon asleep. And Marta? She shared neither Guiseppe's joy nor Pappina's happiness. She longed to be back in Naples, to take the child away from the applauding public. She kept saying to herself:
"It's a crime to make her the object of so much attention. It may spoil her, ruin her. What can I do? If only together we might run away to England, to America!"
In her fear of Guiseppe even the thought frightened her. She hated her weakness in not refusing to let the child continue such a life. Years of servitude to her tyrannical husband had made her afraid to express any wish or will of her own.
"I will pray," she said softly. "I will ask God to save my baby Pappina from this strain, these hardships, and the wrong we are doing her."
She knelt by Pappina's side. Taking one of the child's hands in hers, she prayed fervently for God's blessing on the little one and for the realization of her heart's desire—to see Pappina free from Guiseppe's selfish tyranny.
Because of her great faith in prayer, a peace stole upon her, a confidence that Pappina would be protected and liberated in some way best for all.
"We will wait," she murmured to herself. "A prevision will be made. We will wait."