He groaned as he
gazed at its well-remembered emblems, for its identity was only too plain.
"Maso--Bartolo--Gaetano--for such, miserable boy, is thy real
appellation--thou canst not know how bitter is the pang that an unworthy
child brings to the parent, else would thy life have been different. Oh!
Gaetano! Gaetano! what a foundation art thou for a father's hopes! What a
subject for a father's love! I saw thee last a smiling innocent cherub, in
thy nurse's arms, and I find thee with a blighted sod, the pure fountain
of thy mind corrupted, a form sealed with the stamp of vice, and with
hands dyed in blood; prematurely old in body, and with a spirit that hath
already the hellish taint of the damned!
"Signore, you find me as the chances of a wild life have willed. The world
and I have been at loggerheads this many a year, and in trifling with its
laws, I take my revenge of its abuse--" warmly returned Il Maledetto, for
his spirit began to be aroused. "Thou bear'st hard upon me,
Doge--father--or what thou wilt--and I should be little worthy of my
lineage, did I not meet thy charges as they are made.
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