She continued: “Oh, she is very happy now, very happy. When you met her in the train she was very miserable; she had had an unfortunate love affair in Marseilles, and she was coming home, poor child. But she liked you at once, though she was still rather sad, you understand. Now she has all she wants, and she writes and tells me everything that she does. His name is Bellemin, and they say he is a great painter in your country. He fell in love with her at first sight. But you will take a glass of sirup?-it is very good. Are you quite alone, this year?” “Yes,” I said, “quite alone.” I felt an increasing inclination to laugh, as my first disappointment was dispelled by what Mother Rondoli said. I was obliged; however, to drink a glass of her sirup. “So you are quite alone?” she continued. “How sorry I am that Francesca is not here now; she would have been company for you all the time you stayed. It is not very amusing to go about all by oneself, and she will be very sorry also.” Then, as I was getting up to go, she exclaimed: “But would you not like Carlotta to go with you? She knows all the walks very well. She is my second daughter, monsieur.” No doubt she took my look of surprise for consent, for she opened the inner door and called out up the dark stairs which I could not see: “Carlotta! Carlotta! make haste down, my dear child.” I tried to protest, but she would not listen. “No; she will be very glad to go with you; she is very nice, and much more cheerful than her sister, and she is a good girl, a very good girl, whom I love very much.” In a few moments a tall, slender, dark girl appeared, her hair hanging down, and her youthful figure showing unmistakably beneath an old dress of her mother's. The latter at once told her how matters stood. “This is Francesca's Frenchman, you know, the one whom she knew last year. He is quite alone, and has come to look for her, poor fellow; so I told him that you would go with him to keep him company.” The girl looked at me with her handsome dark eyes, and said, smiling: “I have no objection, if he wishes it.” I could not possibly refuse, and merely said: “Of course, I shall be very glad of your company.” Her mother pushed her out. “Go and get dressed directly; put on your blue dress and your hat with the flowers, and make haste.” As soon as she had left the room the old woman explained herself: “I have two others, but they are much younger. It costs a lot of money to bring up four children. Luckily the eldest is off my hands at present.” Then she told all about herself, about her husband, who had been an employee on the railway, but who was dead, and she expatiated on the good qualities of Carlotta, her second girl, who soon returned, dressed, as her sister had been, in a striking, peculiar manner. Her mother examined her from head to foot, and, after finding everything right, she said: