I could not bear to think of his being ill, suffering, heart-broken,--ruined, if he lost his voice by an illness,--merely because I had not had the strength to do the best thing for him.

Poor Nino, I thought, you shall never say again that Cornelio Grandi has not done what was in his power to make you happy.
"That baron! an apoplexy on him! has illuded me with his promises of help," I said to myself.

"He has no more intention of helping me or Nino than he has of carrying off the basilica of St.Peter.

Courage, Cornelio! thou must gird up thy loins, and take a little money in thy scrip, and find Hedwig von Lira." All that night I lay awake, trying to think how I might accomplish this end; wondering to which point of the compass I should turn, and, above all, reflecting that I must make great sacrifices.

But my boy must have what he wanted, since he was consuming himself, as we say, in longing, for it.