"See," continued Bois-Doré, with ingenuous pride in his own penetration, putting aside the child's coarse white shirt, "his face is sun-burned, but no more than our peasants are in harvest-time; his neck is as white as snow, and he has feet and hands so small that serf or villein never could show the like. Come, my little imp, be not ashamed; and, as I am told that you understand French, answer our questions. What is your name?" "Mario," the child replied without hesitation. "Mario? That is an Italian name!" "I don't know." "From what country are you?" "I am French, I think." "Where were you born?" "I don't remember." "I should think not," laughed the marquis; "but ask your mother." Mario turned to the Moor, and opened his mouth to speak to her. His face wore an expression of satisfaction and joy, because he had been welcomed so like a father by this fine gentleman who held him between his legs, and whose beautiful silk clothes and pretty little beribboned dog he stroked timidly with the tips of his little fingers. But when he met his mother's eyes, he seemed to read therein a warning of great importance; for he gently extricated himself from Monsieur de Bois-Doré's grasp, and went to the Moor, lowering his eyes and not speaking. The marquis asked him divers other questions to which he did not reply, although he seemed, by the sweet and melting glance he turned upon him, to apologize furtively for his discourtesy. "It is my opinion, friend Adamas, that you exaggerated a trifle when you declared that this boy spoke our language fluently," said the marquis. "It is true that his pronunciation is very good, and that he says several words without much foreign accent; but I fancy that that is all he knows. As you know Spanish so well--for my part, I confess that I know very little of it--make him explain himself." "Useless, monsieur le marquis," said Adamas, not at all disconcerted, "I give you my word that the little rascal speaks French like a clerk; but he is frightened in your presence, that's the whole story." "No, indeed!" rejoined the marquis; "he's a little lion and afraid of nothing. He came out of the water laughing as heartily as when he went in, and he must see that we are kind-hearted people." Mario seemed to understand perfectly; for his affectionate eye said yes, while the Moorish woman's intelligent and timid eyes, resting upon D'Alvimar, seemed to say no, so far as she was concerned. "Come, come," continued worthy Monsieur Sylvain, taking Mario between his legs again, "I propose that we shall be good friends. I love children and this one attracts me. Tell me, Master Jovelin, isn't it true that that face was not made to deceive, and that that innocent glance goes straight to the heart? There is some mystery under all this, and I propose to solve it. Listen, Master Mario, if you answer me truthfully, I will give you--What would you like me to give you?"