"From Bardonèche in Italy."
"What is your name?"
"Luisa."
"And where are your parents?"
"They are very far from here."
Marie Louise, who was clasping in her left hand a piece of money for the collection, held it out to the stranger, who took it without noticing her, as she stared open-mouthed at the young woman.
"And me? You didn't say thank you to me," said the child, vexed that her generosity should go unnoticed.
Luisa burst out laughing. Despite her innocent eyes she was very knowing, and in her enthusiasm, speaking again in her native tongue, she pointed to the object of her admiration:
"E bella come la Madona!" (She is as lovely as the Madonna!)
Elizabeth's cheeks grew crimson. The compliment struck her like those flowers which are thrown into one's face at flower fêtes, and which flatter and hurt one at the same time. She told her children to hurry.