"Pardon me," he said, still hoarsely, but in a different tone--the tone of one who saw that violence could not help him.

"I was forgetting myself.
Life--life is sweet to all, Messer Basterga, and we cannot lightly see it pass from us.

To have life within sight, to know it within this room, perhaps within reach----" "Not quite that," Basterga murmured, his eyes wandering to the steel casket, chained to the wall beside the hearth.

"Still, I understand; and, believe me," he added in a tone of sympathy, "I feel for you, Messer Blondel.

I feel deeply for you." "Feel ?" the Syndic muttered.