"Where do all the soldi come from?" she murmured as she stood gazing about her in amazement.
Suddenly a group of light–hearted tourists, bent on discovering all the treasures of a foreign land, swept around Pappina.
"What a quaint little beauty!" one lady exclaimed. "See how she has decked herself out in all her finery! What cherubic eyes!"
Pappina clasped her hands to her breast and shrank back from the gaze of the eyes fastened upon her. She was such a little girl, and never before had she been so far away from home; no wonder the sudden attention of all these finely dressed ladies and gentlemen frightened her.
"I must go home," she exclaimed; "I must run home and tell them all about it. Oh, what a grand time I've had!" She laughed aloud as she broke through the crowd and darted away.
On ran Pappina until she spied the statues of La Villa, and then, although the beauty of the park was before her eyes, she was frightened. Where was her home—her dear, dear home? where were her brothers and sisters? Pappina was lost.
Suddenly her lips stopped quivering: forgotten were her home and her fright. Her little feet paused.
A band! Wonder of wonders! For the first time in her life Pappina heard the whole air aquiver. Streams of sweet sound swept around her. Her whole body tingled, down to her feet. She began to dance with the unconsciousness of a music–mad little child. Tapping her toes on the pavement, gliding and swaying to and fro with the music, keeping time with her arms, dancing with truly wonderful grace, she had drawn a large group of people about her by the time the waltz had ceased.
"Bravo! Bravo!" the people cried as they showered soldi upon the surprised little girl.