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The rumour of Pietro's strange end, of Crescentia's return to life and second departure from it, had already been bruited as far as Rome: this marvellous story was in the mouth of every pilgrim, disfigured with confused additions and contradictions, and drest out by frequent repeating into the very reverse of the truth.
Now it so happened that at the very time when the story opens, Messer Pietro's wife fell ill and died, and Elena was left alone at home with her father and her old nurse. Across the little canal of which I spoke there dwelt another nobleman, with four daughters, between the years of seventeen and twenty-one.
Of that sacrifice the Church in Marqua was born. It will grow on another sacrifice. Ask your heart if you could make it? Alas, you can not! Then it will have to grow on Pietro's pain. "I have not seen you, for I am blind, but I have heard you. You want to go back an Archbishop to finish what you say is 'your work. You think that your people are waiting.
Pietro, with your permission, we'll turn about for Earth at once. We can't go on like this. To proceed would be to endanger the life of every man aboard." "Please, Danton." Jenny put her hand on Pietro's arm. "I know what this all means to you, but " Pietro shook her off. "It means the captain's trying to get out of the expedition, again.
The city does not need you, for the city needs no man; but it is you who need the city, that you may learn again the lesson that once made you the missionary of a people." Faintly, through the silence that fell the deeper as the old man's words died away, there came the sound of footsteps pacing in another room. Once more the old man took up his speech. "They are Pietro's steps," he said.
And O'Mally saw no reason for discovering its source; in fact, he admired Pietro's reticence. For, like Planchet in the immortal Three Musketeers, O'Mally had done some neat fishing through one of the cellar windows. Through the broken pane of glass he could see bin upon bin of dust-covered bottles, Burgundy, claret, Sauterne, champagne, and no end of cordials, prime vintages every one of them.
In the hospitals there was great excitement: it was difficult to restrain the joyful demonstrations. When Luisa whispered the news in Pietro's ear, he leaped out of bed in spite of his wounds, crying: "The grande bird! I always said he would be game! Oh, but he's a sport!" As for Chico, if he could have spoken he would have told a harrowing tale.
As for herself, she had no fear, and though she could not understand Aslitta's absence, she was far from imagining the truth. Suddenly San Pietro's repulsive features appeared at the carriage window, and Luciola's heart ceased beating. Had he betrayed Aslitta? The count had arranged things well.
Gerard not being an egotist, nor blinded by female partialities, saw his own grief in poor proud Pietro; and the more he thought of it the more he resolved to share his humble means with that unlucky artist; Pietro's sympathy would repay him. He tried to waylay him; but without success. One day he heard a groaning in the room. He knocked at the door, but received no answer. He knocked again.
He looked more ill-tempered and sour than ever, but gave no explanation of his and Pietro's absence, except to say that he had been out of the city on business. He called for the boys' earnings of the day previous, but to their surprise made no inquiries about how they had supplied themselves with supper or breakfast.
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