“On the contrary, madame, I am fond of them,” I answered, with forced composure, though my heart throbbed with mingled delight and agony at the thought of seeing my little one again.  “And the child of my old friend’s son must needs have a double interest for me.”

My wife rang the bell, and gave orders to the maid who answered it to send her little girl to her at once.  Ferrari meanwhile engaged me in conversation, and strove, I could see, by entire deference to my opinions, to make up for any offense his previous remark might have given.  A few moments passed—­and then the handle of the drawing-room door was timidly turned by an evidently faltering and unpracticed hand.  Nina called out impatiently—­“Come in, baby!  Do not be afraid--come in!” With that the door slowly opened and my little daughter entered.  Though I had been so short a time absent from her it was easy to see the child had changed very much.  Her face looked pinched and woe-begone, its expression was one of fear and distrust.  The laughter had faded out of her young eyes, and was replaced by a serious look of pained resignation that was pitiful to see in one of her tender years.  Her mouth drooped plaintively at the corners—­her whole demeanor had an appealing anxiety in it that spoke plainly to my soul and enlightened me as to the way she had evidently been forgotten and neglected.  She approached us hesitatingly, but stopped half-way and looked doubtfully at Ferrari.  He met her alarmed gaze with a mocking smile.

“Come along, Stella!” he said.  “You need not be frightened!  I will not scold you unless you are naughty.  Silly child! you look as if I were the giant in the fairy tale, going to eat you up for dinner.  Come and speak to this gentleman—­he knew your papa.”

At this word her eyes brightened, her small steps grew more assured and steady—­she advanced and put her tiny hand in mine.  The touch of the soft, uncertain little fingers almost unmanned me.  I drew her toward me and lifted her on my knee.  Under pretense of kissing her I hid my face for a second or two in her clustering fair curls, while I forced back the womanish tears that involuntarily filled my eyes.  My poor little darling!  I wonder now how I maintained my set composure before the innocent thoughtfulness of her gravely questioning gaze!  I had fancied she might possibly be scared by the black spectacles I wore—­children are frightened by such things sometimes—­but she was not.  No; she sat on my knee with an air of perfect satisfaction, though she looked at me so earnestly as almost to disturb my self-possession.  Nina and Ferrari watched her with some amusement, but she paid no heed to them—­she persisted in staring at me.  Suddenly a slow sweet smile—­the tranquil smile of a contented baby, dawned all over her face; she extended her little arms, and, of her own accord, put up her lips to kiss me!  Half startled at this manifestation of affection, I hurriedly caught her to my heart and returned her caress, then I looked furtively at my wife and Guido.  Had they any suspicion?  No! why should they have any?  Had not Ferrari himself seen me buried?  Reassured by this thought I addressed myself to Stella, making my voice as gratingly harsh as I could, for I dreaded the child’s quick instinct.