The Nameless Castle | Page 9

her, and proceeded to breakfast on the left-over punch and biscuits.
"There! that was a good breakfast," she said, after she had finished her meal. "Oh, I almost forgot. Has mama sent for me?"
"Certainly not, my dear! We are going, by and by, to look for her. The countess very likely has not yet learned of your disappearance; and if she does know that you did not return home last night, she believes you safe with the marquis. She will think you were not allowed to return home in the storm, and will not expect to see you before noon."
"You are very clever, monsieur. I should never have thought of that! I imagined that mama would be vexed, and when mama is cross she is so disagreeable. At other times, though, she is perfectly lovely! You will see how very beautiful she is, monsieur, for you are coming home with me to tell her how you found me--you are so very kind! How I wish you were my papa!"
The old gentleman was touched by the little one's artless prattle.
"Well, my dear little maid," he said tenderly, "we can't think of showing ourselves on the street in such a costume. Besides, it would frighten your mama to see you so. I am going out to one of the shops to buy you a frock. Tell me, what sort was it Diana took from you?"
"A lovely pink silk, trimmed with lace, with short sleeves," promptly replied the little maid.
"I shall not forget--a pink silk, trimmed with lace. You need not be afraid to stay alone here. No one will come while I am away."
"Oh, I am not the least bit afraid. I like to be alone sometimes."
"There is the doll to keep you company," suggested the old gentleman, more and more pleased with his affable little visitor.
"Is n't she lovely!" enthusiastically exclaimed the child. "She slept with me last night, and every time I woke up I kissed her."
"You shall have her for your own, if you like her so much, my dear."
"Oh, thank you! Did the doll belong to your dear little daughter who is dead?"
"Yes--yes," sorrowfully murmured the old gentleman.
"Then I will not play with her, but keep her locked in my little cupboard, and call her Philine. That was the name of my little sister who is dead. Come here, Philine, and sit by me."
"Perhaps you might like to look at a book while I am away--"
"A book!" interrupted the child, with a merry laugh, clapping her hands. "Why, I am just learning the alphabet, and can't bring myself to call a two-pronged fork 'y.'"
"You dear little innocent rogue!" tenderly ejaculated the old gentleman. "Are you fond of flowers?"
He brought from the adjoining room a porcelain flowerpot containing a narcissus in bloom.
"Oh, what a charming flower!" cried the child, admiringly. "How I wish I might pluck just one!"
"Help yourself, my dear," returned her host, pushing the plant toward her.
The child daintily broke off one of the snowy blossoms, and, with childlike coquetry, fastened it in the trimming of her chemise.
"What is this beautiful flower called, monsieur?"
"The narcissus."
At mention of the name the little maid suddenly clapped her hands and cried joyfully:
"Why, that is the name of our palace! Now don't you know where it is?"
"The 'Palace of Narcissus'? I have heard of it."
"Then you will have no trouble finding my home. Oh, you dear good little flower!" and she kissed the snowy blossom rapturously.
The old gentleman surveyed her smilingly for a few moments, then said:
"I will go now, and buy the frock."
"And while you are away I shall tell Philine the story of Gargantua," responded the child.
"Lock the door after me, my dear, and do not open it until I mention my name: Alfred Cambray--"
"Oh, I should forget the second one! Just say, 'Papa Alfred'; I can remember that."
When the child was certain that the old gentleman had left the house, she began hastily to search the room. She peered into every corner and crevice. Then she went into the adjoining chamber, and opened every drawer and cupboard. In returning to the first room she saw some scraps of paper scattered about the floor. She collected them carefully, placed them on the table, and dexterously fitted the pieces together until the entire note-sheet lay before her. It was covered with writing which had evidently been traced by a hurried hand, yet the child seemed to have no difficulty in reading it.
When she heard the old gentleman's footstep on the staircase, she brushed the scraps of paper from the table, and hastened to open the door before the signal was given; and when he exhibited his purchase she danced for joy.
"It is just like my ball-gown--exactly like it!" she exclaimed, kissing the hands of her benefactor. Then the old gentleman clothed