She lost her strength more and more, and the assistance of our arms was no longer sufficient when she went upstairs. It became Mandola's duty to carry her like a child, as I carried little Alezia. That young lady grew more beautiful every day; but her style of beauty and her temperament made her the exact opposite of her mother. Alezia was as dark as her mother was fair. Her hair already fell to her knees in two heavy ebony braids; her little, soft, round arms stood forth like those of a young Moor against her silk clothing, always white as snow; for she was consecrated to the Virgin. As for her temperament, it was very strange for one of her years. I have never seen a child so grave and distrustful and silent. She seemed to have inherited the haughty nature of Signor Torquato. She was never on familiar terms with anyone; she never used the familiar words of address with any of us. A caress from Salomé she seemed to consider an insult, and the very utmost I could obtain, by dint of carrying her, waiting upon her and flattering her, was permission to kiss once a week the tips of her little pink fingers, of which she was already as careful as the most coquettish woman could have been. She was very cold to her mother, and passed long hours seated by her side in the gondola, with her eyes fixed on the water, silent, apparently insensible to everything, and as dreamy as a statue. But if the signora ventured to reprove her ever so mildly, or if she went to bed because of an attack of fever, the little one would fly into one of those paroxysms of frantic despair which aroused fears for her life or her reason. One day she fainted in my arms because Mandola, who was carrying her mother, slipped on one of the steps and fell with her. The signora was slightly hurt, and from that day was unwilling to trust the skill of the Lombard giant. She asked me if I were strong enough to take his place. I was then at the height of my muscular development, and I told her that I could carry four women like herself and eight children like hers. After that I always carried her, for her strength did not return up to the time that I left her.