"Ah! Madame! Madame! how good you are! You are too good, Madame!" "We must share what we have!" said Marsa, with a smile. "See how happy the children are!" "Very happy, Madame. They are not accustomed to such things. Say 'Thank you,' to the beautiful lady. Say 'Thank you,' Jean; you are the oldest. Say like this: 'Thank-you-Ma-dame.'" "Thank-you-Ma-dame" faltered the boy, raising to Marsa big, timid eyes, which did not understand why anybody should either wish him ill or do him a kindness. And other low, sweet little voices repeated, like a refrain: "Thank-you-Ma-dame." The two men, in astonishment, came and stood behind the children, and gazed silently at Marsa. "And your baby, Madame?" said the Tzigana, looking at the sleeping infant, that still pressed its rosy lips to the mother's breast. "How pretty it is! Will you permit me to offer it its baptismal dress?" "Its baptismal dress?" repeated the mother. "Oh, Madame!" ejaculated the father, twisting his cap between his fingers. "Or a cloak, just as you please," added Marsa. The poor people on the barge made no reply, but looked at one another in bewilderment. "Is it a little girl?" asked the Tzigana. "No, Madame, no," responded the mother. "A boy." "Come here, jean," said Marsa to the oldest child. "Yes, come here, my little man." Jean came forward, glancing askance at his mother, as if to know whether he should obey. "Here, jean," said the young girl, "this is for your baby brother." And into the little joined hands of the boy, Marsa let fall a purse, through whose meshes shone yellow pieces of gold. The people of the barge thought they were dreaming, and stood open- mouthed in amazement, while Jean cried out: "Mamma, see, mamma! Mamma! Mamma!" Then the younger bargeman said to Marsa: "Madame, no, no! we can not accept. It is too much. You are too good. Give it back, Jean." "It is true, Madame," faltered his wife. "It is impossible. It is too much." "You will cause me great pain if you refuse to accept it," said Marsa. "Chance has brought us together for a moment, and I am superstitious. I would like to have the little children pray that those I love--that the one I love may be happy." And she turned her eyes upon Prince Andras, who had returned to the deck, and was coming toward her. The lock was now opened. "All aboard!" shouted the captain of the steamer. The poor woman upon the barge tried to reach the hand of Marsa to kiss it. "May you be happy, Madame, and thank you with all our hearts for your goodness to both big and little." The two bargemen bowed low in great emotion, and the whole bevy of little ones blew kisses to the beautiful lady in the black dress, whom the steamer was already bearing away. "At least tell us your name, Madame," cried the father. "Your name, that we may never forget you." A lovely smile appeared on Marsa's lips, and, in almost melancholy accents, she said: