A pause of quite a minute followed, during which the parties regarded each other in silence, the prisoner endeavoring in vain to recall the countenances of his guests, and the girl trembling, equally with grief and apprehension.

Then the last advanced to the feet of the condemned man, knelt, bowed her head, and said: "Grandfather, your blessing on the child of your only son." "Grandfather!--Son!--and his child!" repeated Don Francesco.

"I _had_ a son, to my shame and contrition be it now confessed, but he has long been dead, I never knew that he left a child!" "This is his daughter, Signore," replied Carlo Giuntotardi; "her mother was my sister.

You thought us then too humble to be received into so illustrious a connection, and we have never wished to bring ourselves before your eyes until we thought our presence might be welcome." "And thou comest now, good man, to claim affinity with a condemned criminal!" "Not so, grandfather," answered a meek voice at his feet, "it is your son's daughter that craves a blessing from her dying parent.

The boon shall be well requited in prayers for your soul!" "Holy father! I deserve not this! Here has this tender plant lived, neglected in the shade, until it raises its timid head to offer its fragrance in the hour of death! I deserve not this!" "Son, if heaven offered no mercies until they are merited, hopeless, truly, would be the lot of man.