po, who had risen under his mental torture, obeyed, and bowed his
head in reverence to receive the paternal benediction. The lips of the
old man moved, and his eyes were turned to Heaven, but his language was
of the heart, rather than that of the tongue. Gelsomina bent her head to
her bosom, and seemed to unite her prayers to those of the prisoner.
When the silent but solemn ceremony was ended, each made the customary
sign of the cross, and Jacopo kissed the wrinkled hand of the captive.

"Hast thou hope for me?" the old man asked, this pious and grateful duty
done. "Do they still promise to let me look upon the sun again?"

"They do. They promise fair."

"Would that their words were true! I have lived on hope for a weary
time--I have now been within these walls more than four years,
methinks."

Jacopo did not answer, for he knew that his father named the period only
that he himself had been permitted to see him.

"I built upon the expectation that the Doge would remember his ancient
servant, and open my prison-doors."

Still Jacopo was silent, for the Doge, of whom the other spoke, had long
been dead.

"And yet I should be grateful, for Maria and the saints have not
forgotten me. I am not without my pleasures in captivity."

"God be praised!" returned the Bravo. "In what manner dost thou ease thy
sorrows, father?"

"Look hither, boy," exclaimed the old man, whose eye betrayed a mixture
of feverish excitement, caused by the recent change in his prison, and
the growing imbecility of a mind that was gradually losing its powers
for want of use; "dost thou see the rent in that bit of wood? It opens
with the heat, from time to time, and since I have been an inhabitant
here, that fissure has doubled in length--I sometimes fancy, that when
it reaches the knot, the hearts of the senators will soften, and that my
doors will open. There is a satisfaction in watching its increase, as it
lengthens, inch by inch, year after year!"

"Is this all?"

"Nay, I have other pleasures. There was a spider the past year, that
wove his web from yonder beam, and he was a companion, too, that I loved
to see; wilt thou look, boy, if there is hope of his coming back?"

"I see him not," whispered the Bravo.

"Well, there is always the hope of his return. The flies will enter
soon, and then he will be looking for his prey. They may shut me up on a
false charge, and keep me weary years from my wife and daughter, but
they cannot rob me