It must have been a numerous family, indeed, that could ever have sufficed to people with human life so large an abode as this, and impart social warmth to such a wide world within doors.  The sculptor confessed to himself, that Donatello could allege reason enough for growing melancholy, having only his own personality to vivify it all.

“How a woman’s face would brighten it up!” he ejaculated, not intending to be overheard.

But, glancing at Donatello, he saw a stern and sorrowful look in his eyes, which altered his youthful face as if it had seen thirty years of trouble; and, at the same moment, old Stella showed herself through one of the doorways, as the only representative of her sex at Monte Beni.

CHAPTER XXV

SUNSHINE

“Come,” said the Count, “I see you already find the old house dismal.  So do I, indeed!  And yet it was a cheerful place in my boyhood.  But, you see, in my father’s days (and the same was true of all my endless line of grandfathers, as I have heard), there used to be uncles, aunts, and all manner of kindred, dwelling together as one family.  They were a merry and kindly race of people, for the most part, and kept one another’s hearts warm.”

“Two hearts might be enough for warmth,” observed the sculptor, “even in so large a house as this.  One solitary heart, it is true, may be apt to shiver a little.  But, I trust, my friend, that the genial blood of your race still flows in many veins besides your own?”

“I am the last,” said Donatello gloomily.  “They have all vanished from me, since my childhood.  Old Tomaso will tell you that the air of Monte Beni is not so favorable to length of days as it used to be.  But that is not the secret of the quick extinction of my kindred.”

“Then you are aware of a more satisfactory reason?” suggested Kenyon.

“I thought of one, the other night, while I was gazing at the stars,” answered Donatello; “but, pardon me, I do not mean to tell it.  One cause, however, of the longer and healthier life of my forefathers was, that they had many pleasant customs, and means of making themselves glad, and their guests and friends along with them.  Nowadays we have but one!”

“And what is that?” asked the sculptor.

“You shall see!” said his young host.

By this time, he had ushered the sculptor into one of the numberless saloons; and, calling for refreshment, old Stella placed a cold fowl upon the table, and quickly followed it with a savory omelet, which Girolamo had lost no time in preparing.  She also brought some cherries, plums, and apricots, and a plate full of particularly delicate figs, of last year’s growth.  The butler showing his white head at the door, his master beckoned to him.  “Tomaso, bring some Sunshine!” said he.  The readiest method of obeying this order, one might suppose, would have been to fling wide the green window-blinds, and