'Fabio, what is it? I beseech you by your master, my father, to tell
me.'
I knew he loved my father's memory with more than human love. He looked
up to heaven and clasped his hands; he could hardly speak.
'By my dear master, your father, nothing--nothing!'
'Fabio, you are lying.' I pressed his wrists which I was holding
clenched in my hands.
He sank down on his knees.
'Oh, master, have mercy on me!' He buried his face in his hands. 'I
cannot tell you.'
'Speak, man, speak!'