What is it to you or me, Donatello?
There, there! Be quiet, foolish boy!" Her tone and gesture were such as she might have used in taming down the wrath of a faithful hound, that had taken upon himself to avenge some supposed affront to his mistress.

She smoothed the young man's curls (for his fierce and sudden fury seemed to bristle among his hair), and touched his cheek with her soft palm, till his angry mood was a little assuaged.
"Signorina, do I look as when you first knew me ?" asked he, with a heavy, tremulous sigh, as they went onward, somewhat apart from their companions.

"Methinks there has been a change upon me, these many months; and more and more, these last few days.

The joy is gone out of my life; all gone! all gone! Feel my hand! Is it not very hot?
Ah; and my heart burns hotter still!" "My poor Donatello, you are ill!" said Miriam, with deep sympathy and pity.

"This melancholy and sickly Rome is stealing away the rich, joyous life that belongs to you.