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He had already assumed a
pleasant smile.
But when he entered the shaded drawing-room, and beheld this figure
before him, all the dancing-master's manner instantly fled from him. He
seemed thunderstruck; he shrunk back a little; his cap fell to the
floor; he could not utter a word.
"Excuse me--excuse me, mademoiselle," he gasped out at length, in his
odd French. "Ah, it is like a ghost--like other years come back--"
He stared at her.
"I am very pleased to see you, sir," said she to him, gently, in
Italian.
"Her voice also--her voice also!" he exclaimed, almost to himself, in
the same tongue. "Signorina, you will forgive me--but--when one sees an
old friend--you are so like--ah, so like--"
"You are speaking of my mother?" the girl said, with her eyes cast down.
"I have been told that I was like her. You knew her, signore?"
Calabressa pulled himself together somewhat. He picked up his cap; he
assumed a more business-like air.
"Oh yes, signorina, I knew her," he said, with an apparent carelessness,
but he was regarding her all the same.


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