“I have no estate to bequeathe—­no honors to transmit—­no name to boast of.  Better the offspring of the lazzaroni than a child of Francesco Caraccioli, at this moment.”

“Grandfather, we think not of this—­care not for this.  I have come only to ask the blessing you have bestowed, and to offer the prayers of believers, though we are so lowly.  More than this we ask not—­wish not—­seek not.  Our poverty is familiar to us, and we heed it not.  Riches would but distress us, and we care not for them.”

“I remember, holy father, that one great reason of displeasure at my son’s marriage was distrust of the motive of the family which received him; yet here have these honest people suffered me to live on unmolested in prosperity, while they now first claim the affinity in my disgrace and ignominy!  I have not been accustomed to meet with wishes and hearts like these!”

“You did not know us, grandfather,” said Ghita simply, her face nearly buried in the old man’s bosom.  “We have long prayed for you, and reverenced you, and thought of you as a parent whose face was turned from us in anger; but we never sought your gold and honors.”

“Gold and honors!” repeated the admiral, gently placing his grand-daughter in a chair.  “These are things of the past for me.  My estates are sequestered—­my name disgraced; and, an hour hence, I shall have suffered an ignominious death.  No selfish views can have brought these good people, father, to claim affinity with me at a moment like this.”

“It comes from the goodness of God, son.  By letting you feel the consolation of this filial love, and by awakening in your own bosom the spark of parental affection, he foreshadows the fruits of his own mercy and tenderness to the erring but penitent.  Acknowledge his bounty in your soul; it may bring a blessing on your last moment.”

“Holy priest, I hope I do.  But what says this?—­”

Don Francesco took a note from the hand of a servant and read its contents eagerly; the world and its feelings having too much hold on his heart to be plucked out in an instant.  Indeed so sudden had been his arrest, trial, and conviction, that it is not surprising the priest found in him a divided spirit, even at an instant like that.  His countenance fell, and he passed a hand before his eyes, as if to conceal a weakness that was unbecoming.

“They have denied my request, father,” he said, “and I must die like a felon—­”

“The Son of God suffered on the cross suspended between thieves.”

“I believe there is far less in these opinions than we are accustomed to think—­yet it is cruel for one who has filled so high employments—­a prince—­a Caraccioli, to die like a lazzarone!”

“Grandfather—­”

“Did you speak, child?  I wonder not that this indignity should fill thee with horror.”