The hand of Gelsomina lingered on the lock, but admonished by his impatient eye, she complied, and they entered the cell. "Father!" exclaimed the Bravo, hastening to the side of a pallet that lay on the floor. The attenuated and feeble form of an old man rose at the word, and an eye which, while it spoke mental feebleness, was at that moment even brighter than that of his son, glared on the faces of Gelsomina and her companion. "Thou hast not suffered, as I had feared, by this sudden change, father!" continued the latter, kneeling by the side of the straw. "Thine eye, and cheek, and countenance are better, than in the damp caves below!" "I am happy here," returned the prisoner; "there is light, and though they have given me too much of it, thou canst never know, my boy, the joy of looking at the day, after so long a night." "He is better, Gelsomina. They have not yet destroyed him. See! his eye is bright even, and his cheek has a glow!" "They are ever so, after passing the winter in the lower dungeons," whispered the gentle girl. "Hast thou news for me, boy? What tidings from thy mother?" Jacopo bowed his head to conceal the anguish occasioned by this question, which he now heard for the hundredth time. "She is happy, father--happy as one can be, who so well loves thee, when away from thy side." "Does she speak of me often?" "The last word that I heard from her lips, was thy name." "Holy Maria bless her! I trust she remembers me in her prayers?" "Doubt it not, father, they are the prayers of an angel!" "And thy patient sister? thou hast not named her, son." "She, too, is well, father." "Has she ceased to blame herself for being the innocent cause of my sufferings?" "She has." "Then she pines no longer over a blow that cannot be helped." The Bravo seemed to search for relief in the sympathizing eye of the pale and speechless Gelsomina. "She has ceased to pine, father," he uttered with compelled calmness. "Thou hast ever loved thy sister, boy, with manly tenderness. Thy heart is kind, as I have reason to know. If God has given me grief, he has blessed me in my children!" A long pause followed, during which the parent seemed to muse on the past, while the child rejoiced in the suspension of questions which harrowed his soul, since those of whom the other spoke had long been the victims of family misfortune. The old man, for the prisoner was aged as well as feeble, turned his look on the still kneeling Bravo, thoughtfully, and continued. "There is little hope of thy sister marrying, for none are fond of tying themselves to the proscribed." "She wishes it not--she wishes it not--she is happy, with my mother!" "It is a happiness the Republic will not begrudge. Is there no hope of our being able to meet soon?" "Thou wilt meet my mother--yes, that pleasure will come at last!" "It is a weary time since any of my blood, but thee, have stood in my sight. Kneel, that I may bless thee."