My leave-takings were brief. My mother shed some tears and many prayers
over me at parting. Not that she was moved to any grief at losing me.
That were a grief I should respect and the memory of which I should
treasure as a sacred thing. Her tears were tears of dread lest, surrounded
by perils in the world, I should succumb and thus falsify her vows
She, herself, confessed it in the valedictory words she addressed to me.
Words that left the conviction clear upon my mind that the fulfilment of
her vow was the only thing concerning me that mattered. To the price that
later might be paid for it I cannot think that she ever gave a single
thought.
Tears there were too in the eyes of Fra Gervasio. My mother had suffered
me to do no more than kiss her hand--as was my custom. But the friar took
me to his bosom, and held me tight a moment in his long arms.
"Remember!" he murmured huskily and impressively. And then, putting me
from him, God help and guide you, my son," were his last words.
I went down the steps into the courtyard where most of the servants were
gathered to see their lord's departure, whilst Messer Arcolano, who was to
go with me, paused to assure my mother of the care that he would have of
me, and to receive her final commands concerning me.
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