of all my happiness!"

The aged captive was mute and thoughtful. A childish impatience glowed
in his eye, and he gazed from the rent, the companion of so many
solitary summers, to the face of his son, like one who began to distrust
his enjoyments.

"Well, let them take it away," he said, burying his head beneath the
covering of his bed: "I will not curse them!"

"Father!"

The prisoner made no reply.

"Father!"

"Jacopo!"

In his turn the Bravo was speechless. He did not venture, even, to steal
a glance towards the breathless and attentive Gelsomina, though his
bosom heaved with longing to examine her guileless features.

"Dost thou hear me, son?" continued the prisoner, uncovering his head:
"dost thou really think they will have the heart to chase the spider
from my cell?"

"They will leave thee this pleasure, father, for it touches neither
their power nor their fame. So long as the Senate can keep its foot on
the neck of the people, and so long as it can keep the seemliness of a
good name, it will not envy thee this."

"Blessed Maria make me thankful!--I had my fears, child; for it is not
pleasant to lose any friend in a cell!"

Jacopo then proceeded to soothe the mind of the prisoner, and he
gradually led his thoughts to other subjects. He laid by the bed-side a
few articles of food, that he was allowed to bring with him, and again
holding out the hope of eventual liberation, he proposed to take his
leave.

"I will try to believe thee, son," said the old man, who had good reason
to distrust assurances so often made. "I will do all I can to believe
it. Thou wilt tell thy mother, that I never cease to think of her, and
to pray for her; and thou wilt bless thy sister, in the name of her poor
imprisoned parent."

The Bravo bowed in acquiescence, glad of any means to escape speech. At
a sign from the old man he again bent his knee, and received the parting
benediction. After busying himself in arranging the scanty furniture of
the cell, and in trying to open one or two small fissures, with a view
to admit more light and air, he quitted the place.

Neither Gelsomina nor Jacopo spoke, as they returned by the intricate
passages through which they had ascended to the attic, until they were
again on the Bridge of Sighs. It was seldom that human foot trod this
gallery, and the former, with female quickness, selected it as a place
suited to their further conference.

"Dost thou find him changed?" she asked,