esented to her individually, dark-eyed and smiling
young Italians of the people, who knew no language but their own
Florentine and spoke to Aurora in that, not expecting to be understood
or to understand, except through smiles.

Clotilde, busy, bustling, poured for them wine which she knew to be
excellent, and there was a bright half hour for all. Italo wore an air
relating him to all the successful heroes that have been, to Caesar as
well as to Paganini, who also had a great nose. To manage a thing well
in small justifies pride, giving earnest as it does that a large thing,
such as a siege, or a symphony, would by the same capacity be managed
equally well. Italo that night carried his head like one who respects
the size of his nose. He was quick, he was witty, he was amiable. He had
about him something a little splendid, even, due to his feeling of
having been splendid--or nothing--in his tribute to the patroness from
whose horn of plenty so much had overflowed into his hands.

Aurora beckoned Clotilde aside to say in her ear, "Will you run upstairs
like a good girl and get my porte-monnaie?... Would it be all right, do
you think?"

Clotilde made the face and gesture of one in doubt, and if anything
averse, but not insuperably. The bounty of royalty, or of rich
Americans, is not felt as alms.

"Go, then," whispered Aurora, "and get the purse that you'll find under
some silk stockings in my second drawer, the little purse with gold in
it."

One of the petty difficulties of life to Aurora since she had lived in
foreign lands had been the so often arising necessity to think quickly
what it would be proper to give. As the amount of the gratuity did not
much matter to her she had felt a desperate wish often for the power of
divination, by which to know what would be expected. On some occasions
it had seemed to Aurora that it would be more delicate not to offer
money; but experience had taught her that if she offered enough no
offense would be taken. These singers were all poor young fellows,
Clotilde had told her, musically gifted, but plying ordinary trades.
This one was a wood-carver, that one a gilder. They had been taught by
her brother the fine songs composing that magnificent serenade.

The gold pieces distributed among them with words and smiles of thanks
were received with such charming manners that the giver--for the first
moment faintly embarrassed--was soon set at her ease. When it came to
the promoter and