about into the golden sunshine for a comparison.

"And is she young?"

"She is not young--like me. But she is not old like--like--"

"Like me, eh? And is she married?"

The little girl began to look wise. "I have never seen the Signor
Conte."

"And she lives in Via Ghibellina?"

"_Sicuro_. In a beautiful palace."

I had one more question to ask, and I pointed it with certain copper
coins. "Tell me a little--is she good?"

The child inspected a moment the contents of her little brown fist. "It's
you who are good," she answered.

"Ah, but the Countess?" I repeated.

My informant lowered her big brown eyes, with an air of conscientious
meditation that was inexpressibly quaint. "To me she appears so," she
said at last, looking up.

"Ah, then, she must be so," I said, "because, for your age, you are very
intelligent." And having delivered myself of this compliment I walked
away and left the little girl counting her _soldi_.