A desire to cry came over him suddenly. He had imagined everything a thousand times more beautiful; if they had cheated him regarding the glass balls and the sundial as well, he would not have been surprised.
At this moment two Newfoundland dogs, as black as coal, came rushing up to them with suppressed barks. He took refuge behind his mother’s dress and began to scream.
“Caro! Nero!” called a sweet childish voice from the house door, and the two monsters, howling joyfully, rushed off in the direction whence the voice came.
A little girl, smaller still than Paul, in a pink-flowered frock, round which a kind of Scotch sash was tied, appeared before the house. She had long, golden curls, which were drawn back from her forehead by a round comb, and a small, delicate little nose, which she carried rather high.
“Do you wish to speak to mamma?” she asked in her gentle, soft voice, and smiled at the same time.
“Are you called Elsbeth, my child?” inquired his mother, in return.
“Yes; I am called Elsbeth.”
His mother made a movement as if she wanted to clasp the strange child in her arms, but she mastered herself, and said,
“Will you lead us to your mother?”
“Mamma is in the garden; she is just drinking coffee,” said the little girl, with much importance. “I would rather lead you round the front of the house, because if we open the door on the sunny side so many flies come in directly.”