eyes of her soul she again saw in him the little boy whom, with warm
maternal love, she had once pressed to her breast and cradled in her
arms.

When, in his rough fashion, he warmly returned her professions of
tenderness, her eyes grew wet with tears, and at the question what he
could still find in her, a withered, good-for-nothing little creature who
just dragged along from one day to another, an object of pity to herself,
he again burst into his mighty laugh, and his deep voice shouted: "Do you
want to know that? But where would be the lime that holds us on the
ships if you were no longer here? The best capture wouldn't be worth a
drachm if we could not say, 'Hurrah! how pleased the old mother will be
when she hears it!' And when things go badly, when men have been wounded
or perished in the sea, we should despair of our lives if we did not know
that whatever troubles our hearts the old mother feels, too, and we shall
always get from her the kind words needed to press on again. And then,
when the strait is sore and life is at stake, whence would come the
courage to cast the die if we did not know that you are with us day and
night, and will send your spirits to help us if the need is great?
Hundreds of times they rushed to our aid just at the right time, and
assisted us to hew off the hand of the foe which was already choking us.
But that is only something extra, which we could do without, if
necessary. That you are here, that a man still has his dear mother,
whose heart wishes us everything good and our foes death and destruction,
whose aged eyes will weep if anything harms us, that, mother dear, that
is the main thing!"

He bent his clumsy figure over her as he spoke, and cautiously, as if he
were afraid of doing her some injury, kissed her head with tender care.