“Who could not love the owner of so sweet a voice?”

“And thou couldst love me, Gennaro?”

“Surely, but not so dearly as I love one other I could name.”

“And she—and she?”

“Is my mother.”

“Thy mother! Oh my Gennaro, thou dost love her?” And she trembles greatly, this unknown woman.

“I love her as I love my life.”

“And thinkst thou she loves thee?”

“Alas! I never saw her.”

“And yet thou lovest her?”