Joy leaped to her face again.
"Mother, look!" she cried, eagerly. "After all, we may hope."
"This time you shall not go alone, Natalushka."
"Why not, mother? I am not afraid."
"I may be of use to you, child. There may be friends of mine there—who knows? I am going with you."
In course of time they hired a carriage, and drove away through the crowded and gayly-colored city in the glow of the afternoon. But they had sufficient prudence, before reaching Portici, to descend from the carriage and proceed on foot. They walked quietly along, apparently not much interested in what was around them. Presently Natalie pressed her mother's arm, they were opposite the Villa Odelschalchi—there was the name on the flat pillars by the gate.
This great plain building, which might have been called a palazzo rather than a villa, seemed, on the side fronting the
street, to be entirely closed—all the casements of the windows being shut. But when they crossed to the gate, and pulled the big iron handle that set a bell ringing, a porter appeared—a big, indolent-looking man, who regarded them calmly, to see which would speak first.
Natalie simply produced the card that had been sent to her.
"This is the Villa Odelschalchi, I perceive," she said.