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She ran up to divert the child that was shrieking the loudest,

sat down by him on the ground, and clasped him to her bosom; the

others she soothed with her hand and with tender words until they

became calm, hugging her knees with their little arms and

snuggling their heads, like chickens beneath their mother's wing.

"Is it nice to cry so?" she said, "is it polite? This gentleman

will be afraid of you; he did not come to frighten you, he is not

an ugly old beggar; he is a guest, a kind gentleman, just see how

pretty he is."

She looked herself; the Count smiled pleasantly, and was

evidently grateful to her for so many praises. She noticed this,

and stopped, lowered her eyes, and blushed all over like a

rosebud.