'Then I desire not to be called an English Christian name, and you will call me Giacomo,' said the boy.
Vittoria sang, in mountain-notes, 'Giacomo!—Giacomo—Giac-giac-giac . . como!'
The children listened, glistening up at her, and in conjunction jumped and shouted for more.
'More?' said Vittoria; 'but is the Signor Carlo no friend of ours? and does he wear a magic ring that makes him invisible?'
'Let the German girl go to him,' said Giacomo, and strained his throat to reach at kisses.
'I am not a German girl,' little Amalia protested, refusing to go to Carlo Ammiani under that stigma, though a delightful haven of open arms and knees, and filliping fingers, invited her.
'She is not a German girl, O Signor Giacomo,' said Vittoria, in the theatrical manner.
'She has a German name.'
'It's not a German name!' the little girl shrieked.
Giacomo set Amalia to a miauling tune.