aying with us, and
on the first evening he retired early to give them an opportunity of
conversing more freely on the melancholy topics that filled their minds.
After bidding good-night to my mother and kissing her, he paid me the
same tokens of regard. This incident had not escaped the notice of the
young Eugenio, for when directed by his mother to retire to rest also,
he advanced toward me, shook hands, and (although, seeing his intention,
I drew back) succeeded in imprinting a kiss on my cheek. Signora
Lucretia turned as pale as death. My mother, to avoid a scene, turned
with a playful laugh to Eugenio, who by this time was scarlet with
shame, and said, "My dear boy, in this country such salutations are only
permitted from near relations or very intimate friends, but I am not
surprised that Mr. Oswald's thoughtlessness before you should have
misled you into doing the same. So I am sure that your good mother will
not be displeased with you."

"Oh, madama," exclaimed Signora Lucretia, bursting into tears as soon as
the door had closed upon him, "to think that my son should have been
tempted by the Evil One so far as to forget what is due to the holy
vocation for which he is to fit himself! In Italy never had he even been
in the same room with any woman but myself and the priest's old
housekeeper. This is the first time that his lips have been so
desecrated." (Here my mother and I interchanged smiles.) "Unhappy mother
that I am! by what sufferings can I atone for his sin? What shall I
impose upon him to mortify the spirit that has arisen within him?"

The next morning Eugenio came down looking pale and sad, and I felt sure
that he had been reprimanded in no measured terms. I gave him a pitying
glance, which fell like dew on the thirsting earth.

At every breakfast the children were taught to say good-morning to each
person separately. The elder son would commence, "Good-morning and good
appetite, Mr. Melville! good-morning and good appetite, Madama Melville!
good-morning and good appetite, Signora Felicia!" and so on. Then
Celestino would go through the same ceremony, and finally Virginia, and
a grace was uttered, during which the breakfast was liable to become
cool, and Rugiero's temper (if he were present) not so. "Andiamo! I am
sure that Signor Melville and madama do not insist upon so many
compliments; and you, Eugenio, should have more gallantry than to keep
the Signora Felicia waiting whilst her toast becomes co