f honour. As it was, he continued to listen. The
tears of his poor little friend, moreover, seemed to hold him there in
the hope that he might afford some help.

"Yes; I do not care for the others," she resumed. "You praised me the
night I first saw you."

"It is perhaps zat you can sing to z' moon," returned Mr. Pericles. "But,
what! a singer, she must sing in a house. To-night it is warm, to-morrow
it is cold. If you sing through a cold, what noise do we hear? It is a
nose, not a voice. It is a trompet."

Emilia, with a whimpering firmness, replied: "You said I am lazy. I am
not."

"Not lazy," Mr. Pericles assented.

"Do I care for praise from people who do not understand music? It is not
true. I only like to please them."

"Be a street-organ," Mr. Pericles retorted.

"I must like to see them pleased when I sing," said Emilia desperately.

"And you like ze clap of ze hands. Yez. It is quite natural. Yess. You
are a good child, it is clear. But, look. You are a voice uncultivated,
sauvage. You go wrong: I hear you: and dese claps of zese noodels send
you into squeaks and shrills, and false! false away you go. It is a
gallop ze wrong way."

Here Mr. Pericles attempted the most horrible reproduction of Emilia's
failure. She cried out as if she had been bitten.

"What am I to do?" she asked sadly.

"Not now," Mr. Pericles answered. "You live in London?--at where?"

"Must I tell you?"

"Certainly, you must tell me."

"But, I am not going there; I mean, not yet."

"You are going to sing to z' moon through z' nose. Yez. For how long?"

"These ladies have asked me to stay with them. They make me so happy.
When I leave them--then!"

Emilia sighed.

"And zen?" quoth Mr. Pericles.

"Then, while my money lasts, I shall stay in the country."

"How much money?"

"How much money have I?" Emilia frankly and accurately summed up the
condition of her treasury. "Four pounds and nineteen shillings."

"Hom! it is spent, and you go to your father again?"

"Yes."

"To ze old Belloni?"

"My father."

"No!" cried Mr. Pericles, upon Emilia's melancholy utterance. He bent to
her ear and rapidly spoke, in an undertone, what seemed to be a vivid
sketch of a new course of fortune for her. Emilia gave one joyful outcry;
and now Wilfrid retreated, questioning within himself whether he should
have remained so long. But, as he argued, if he was convinced that the
rascally Greek fellow meant mischief to her, was he no