He woke to the harsh realities of life, four thousand miles away from that mother and home.
"Have I slept, Filippo ?" he asked, rubbing his eyes, and looking about him in momentary bewilderment.
"Yes, Giacomo.

You have slept for two hours and more.

It is eleven o'clock." "Then we must go back." "Yes; take your violin, and we will go." They passed out into the cold street, which seemed yet colder by contrast with the warm hotel they just left, and, crossing to the sidewalk that skirts the park, walked up Centre street.
Giacomo was seized with a fit of trembling.

His teeth chattered with the cold.

A fever was approaching, although neither he nor his companion knew it.
"Are you cold, Giacomo ?" asked Phil, noticing how he trembled.
"I am very cold.