"
"To the devil with Baptiste and his bark! Melchior,--my good
Melchior!--dearest, dearest Melchior! hast thou indeed forgotten me?"
Here the Genoese opened wide his arms, and stood ready to receive the
embrace of his friend. The Baron de Willading was troubled, but he was
still so far from suspecting the real fact, that he could not have easily
told the reason why. He gazed wistfully at the working features of the
fine old man who stood before him, and though memory seemed to flit around
the truth, it was in gleams so transient as completely to baffle his
wishes.
"Dost thou deny me, de Willading?--dost thou refuse to own the friend of
thy youth--the companion of thy pleasures--the sharer of thy sorrows---
thy comrade in the wars--nay, more--thy confidant in a dearer tie?"
"None but Gaetano Grimaldi himself can claim these titles!" burst from the
lips of the trembling baron.
"Am I aught else?--am I not this Gaetano?--that Gaetano--thy
Gaetano,--old and very dear friend?"
"Thou Gaetano!" exclaimed the Bernois, recoiling a step, instead of
advancing to meet the eager embrace of the Genoese, whose impetuous
feelings were little cooled by time--"thou, the gallant, active, daring,
blooming Grimaldi! Signore, you trifle with an old man's affections.
Pages:
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65