I think he is going to die."
"Nonsense!" said the padrone, angrily. "He is only pretending
to be sick, so that he need not work. I have lost enough by him
already."
Nevertheless he went to the little boy's bedside.
Giacomo was breathing faintly. His face was painfully thin, his
eyes preternaturally bright. He spoke faintly, but his mind
seemed to be wandering.
"Where is Filippo?" he said. "I want to see Filippo."
In this wish the padrone heartily concurred. He, too, would have
been glad to see Filippo, but the pleasure would not have been
mutual.
"Why do you want to see Filippo?" he demanded, in his customary
harsh tone.
Giacomo heard and answered, though unconscious who spoke to him.
"I want to kiss him before I die," he said.
"What makes you think you are going to die?" said the tyrant,
struck by the boy's appearance.
"I am so weak," murmured Giacomo. "Stoop down, Filippo. I want
to tell you something in your ear."
Moved by curiosity rather than humanity, the padrone stooped
over, and Giacomo whispered:
"When you go back to Italy, dear Filippo, go and tell my mother
how I died. Tell her not to let my father sell my little brother
to a padrone, or he may die far away, as I am dying.
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