'Your rents are paid, your harvests taken in, the olives all gathered.'
'I left in your charge something more precious than cornfields and vineyards.'
'My lord!'
'I made you guardian of my honour. What of that?'
He hesitated, and his voice as he answered trembled.
'Your honour is—intact.'
I took him by the shoulders.
'Fabio, what is it? I beseech you by your master, my father, to tell me.'
I knew he loved my father's memory with more than human love. He looked up to heaven and clasped his hands; he could hardly speak.
'By my dear master, your father, nothing—nothing!'