At the two or three places at which they stopped the voice of the little girl rose through the heated afternoon air, but only a few soldi tinkled on the pavement.
If Guiseppe was disappointed he did not show any signs of it. He smiled calmly upon Pappina.
"We'll save your voice and strength for to–morrow, bambina. Not another song to–day. Come along, Marta. Old Guiseppe's getting to be a kind master, eh, Pappina?"
His was a selfish kindness. He knew the morrow's fete would prove a harvest to him, and since no one gave to–day, he thought best to let Pappina rest for the fete day's strain.
When the bright, beautiful fete morning dawned, Guiseppe was early astir.
"Come, Marta! Up, little one!" he exclaimed. "The day can neither begin too soon nor last too long for me."
"Nor for me," declared Pappina.
First they, with every one else, must go to mass in the handsome church San Francesco di Paola.
The thunder of guns from the vessels of war and the harbor batteries frightened Pappina. She held Marta's hand tightly and sometimes in her fear even Guiseppe's, but when she saw the militia she forgot the noise.