Rico gazed at the flowers, and thought, "If Stineli could only see
them!" He stood for a long time thoughtfully by the fence. Presently the
lad espied him, and called out, "Come in, fiddler; and play a pretty
song, if you know one."

The lad spoke in Italian, and it produced a strange sensation in Rico's
mind: he understood what he heard, but he never could have said it
himself. He entered the garden, and the lad began to try to talk with
him; but when he found that Rico could not reply, he pointed towards the
open door, giving Rico to understand that he was to go there to play.

When Rico approached the door, he found that it opened directly into a
bedroom. A little bed stood within, near which was seated a woman who
was knitting with red yarn. Rico placed himself before the threshold,
and began to play and sing his song,--

"Little lambkins, come down."

When he had finished, the pale face of a little boy was suddenly raised
from the pillows of the bed; and Rico heard the words,--

"Play again."

Rico played another tune.

"Play again" was repeated. This went on for five or six times, until
Rico had exhausted his stock of songs and tunes; and he put his fiddle
under his arm, and was moving away, when the little boy began to call
out piteously,--