A mob pursued him through the streets, and, knowing his strength as a swimmer, the youth cast himself into the River Arno.

When Tito had swum far down the river to the other side, and, in his exhaustion, would go ashore, he looked up, and, lo! he discerned the gray-haired father whom he had injured trotting along the shore side by side with the swimmer.

In the old man's eyes blazed bitter hatred, in his hand flashed a sharp knife.
What the youth had sown years before now at last he was to reap.

When increasing weakness compelled him to approach the shore he looked beseechingly to his father for mercy, but found only justice.

With a wild and bitter cry Tito reaped his harvest.