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At her throat were fastened two blossoms of wild rose, with the dew still on them, and the hand which held her lace-trimmed sunshade carried also a spray of meadow-sweet. Mr. Athel, looking up from the end of the table, was the first to perceive her. 'Guardami ben: ben son, ben son Beatrice! he exclaimed, rising and moving from his place. 'But how in the world has she got here?
Only to the elect is it granted the few chosen, where all are called. To some it falls as if by the pure grace of Heaven, meeting them as they walk in the common way. Some, the fewest, attain it by merit of patient hope, climbing resolute until, on the heights of noble life, a face shines before them, the face of one who murmurs "Guardami ben!" He thought much, too, about his offspring.
The confession of the Countess is historical. She took the whole blame upon herself. "Guardami ben'! Ben' son', ben' son' Beatrice." Dante. "Well, now, this is provoking!" "What is the matter, wife?" And Abraham looked up from a bale of silk which he was packing. "Why, here has Genta been and taken the fever; and there is not a soul but me to go and nurse her."
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