"I am ten years old, madame."
"Oh, don't call me 'madame.' Call me Teresa, just as your mother did many years ago."
And Teresa took the lamp and brought it close to Paula. "No, you hardly have any similiarity in your face, but your voice is like hers. Now, let me hug you once more, my treasure." And Teresa pressed to her heart the motherless child.
"In my country they say I am like Papa. In fact, I have his portrait in the trunk and I will show it to you."
"Show it to us now!" I shouted.
But Teresa interrupted me. "What a child you are, when poor Paula is so tired! Tomorrow will be time enough."
The meal for the young traveler had been prepared on the end of the great table, where Teresa had placed buttered toast and jam, and soon she sallied from the kitchen with the rest of the food.
"There you are, Paula," Teresa said, drawing her to the table; "Sit down and eat!"
"And the others?" said Paula, looking at us.
"Oh, we ate long ago," said Rosa.