Cherry never had ridden in the cars before; and she clung tight to the sleeve of her companion, afraid to move, or even to speak, until he laughingly asked,—­

“It does not fear, the poor little one, does it?”

“No, I guess not, ’Varny,” replied the child doubtfully; but the Italian sharply said,—­

“What is this ’Varny you say?  I am mio padre.”

“I forgot.  Won’t I tumble out of this carriage, my father, it goes so quick?”

“Fear nothing, figlia mia.  You are safe with me and with Pantalon,” said the Italian, drawing the little girl close to his side; while the monkey, crouching upon the organ at their feet, chattered his own promises of protection and comfort.

With ’Toinette, to live was to love and trust; and, clinging close to her new guardian’s side, she laid her little shining head upon his breast, clinging with one hand to the lappet of his coat; and, laughing down at Pantalon, she fell presently asleep.

At night the Italian left the train, and took lodgings at a hotel near the centre of a large town.  His little charge-tired, hungry, and sleepy-was very glad to have supper, and to be allowed to go to bed, where she slept soundly until summoned the next morning by Giovanni, who brought her some breakfast with his own hands, and, placing it upon the table, laid a bundle of clothes beside it.

“Rise and eat, carissima,” said be gayly; “and then make thyself as beautiful as the morning with these fine clothes.  See, here are roses from the garden for a wreath!  They are better than the others.  When thou art ready, come out to me.”

He left the room; and ’Toinette, rising, made a hasty breakfast; and then, putting on the brocade-silk dress, and placing upon her head the wreath Giovanni had twisted of natural flowers for her, she peeped into the glass, and laughed aloud at the fanciful and beautiful image that met her eyes.

“I am glad I look so pretty,” murmured she, with an innocent delight at her own beauty, that was not vanity, although, it might, if untrained, lead to it.

“Come, Ciriegia, are you never ready?” called Giovanni from the other side of the door; and Cherry, running to open it, exclaimed in Italian,—­

“Oh, see, my father! am I not beautiful?”

“Truly so; but you should not say it, bamb¡na.  The charm of a maiden is her modesty,” said the Italian gravely.

“But, if it is true, why mustn’t I say so?” asked Cherry positively.

“Many things that we know are never to be said, Ciriega.  But come, now:  you are to dance first for these people, and they will make no charge for our beds and the miserable provender they have given us.”

As he spoke, Giovanni led the way to the lower hall of the hotel, where a number of men were lounging, smoking, or talking; while through the open doors of the parlor and office were to be seen some ladies and gentlemen, idling away the hour after breakfast, before proceeding to their business, their journey, or their amusement.