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.
"You are a very charming little lady!" I said, playfully. "And so your name is Stella? That is because you are a little star, I suppose?"
She became meditative. "Papa said I was," she answered, softly and shyly.
"Papa spoiled you!" interposed Nina, pressing a filmy black-bordered handkerchief to her eyes. "Poor papa! You were not so naughty to him as you are to me."
The child's lip quivered, but she was silent.
"Oh, fy!" I murmured, half chidingly. "Are you ever naughty? Surely not! All little stars are good--they never cry--they are always bright and calm."
Still she remained mute--a sigh, deep enough for an older sufferer, heaved her tiny breast. She leaned her head against my arm and raised her eyes appealingly.
"Have you seen my papa?" she asked, timidly. "Will he come back soon?"
For a moment I did not answer her. Ferrari took it upon himself to reply roughly. "Don't talk nonsense, baby! You know your papa has gone away--you were too naughty for him, and he will never come back again. He has gone to a place where there are no tiresome little girls to tease him."