“Pray for me, carina.”
After some reflection, she said: “I only know two prayers—the Our Father and Ave Maria: which shall I say for you?”
“Say both of them.”
“Yes, certainly: Our Father first; I like it so much.”
And there on the shore she folded her hands, raised her eyes, as blue as the heavens to which she raised them, and with her clear, silvery voice softly repeated the divine words. If ever there were lips on earth worthy of being the echo of that voice which once uttered this prayer that we might learn it, they were certainly the innocent lips now repeating it beside me! I too clasped my hands and joined in her prayer.
When it was ended, she stopped a moment with a thoughtful air, and then repeated: “Deliver us from all evil.”
“But, as I am praying for you, ought not I to say to Our Father: Deliver Zia Gina from all evil?”
“Yes, my darling,” exclaimed I, embracing her: “yes, pray always in this way for me, and may God hear and bless you!”
Her angelic face, her piety and innocence, completely diverted my mind from my sorrows. I only felt an infinite joy at not having rendered myself unworthy to hear the words she had just uttered. I had suffered; I still suffered, of course; but I had prayed, and still prayed, to be delivered from temptation and sin, and it seemed to me a ray from heaven had fallen on me in answer to this angel's prayer!
But this impression, though lively and consoling, was only momentary, I had to return to the reality of life, and this reality was painful. It became much more so the following day when Lorenzo at last returned.