Cherry obeyed, calling back, as she disappeared, “Tell them I will dance some more for them by and by if they want me to.”

CHAPTER XVII.

Wholesale murder.

In the course of that day, Giovanni and his little danseuse visited all the principal public places in the town, and also several of the best private houses; and, at all, the performances of the child called forth the surprise, delight, and admiration of those who witnessed them.  Nor were more substantial proofs of their approval wanting; so that at night, when Giovanni counted up his gains, he found them so large, that he cried, while embracing poor weary little Cherry,—­

“O blessed, blessed moment when thou didst cross my path, Ciriegia carissima!”

“Now can’t we go home to mammy?  I am so tired, and my head feels sick!” moaned the child, laying the poor aching little head upon his shoulder.

Giovanni looked down at the pale face, and, meeting the languid eyes, felt a pang of conscience and pity.

“Thou art tired, bamb¡na povera mia,” said he kindly.  “Another day, we will be more careful.  Lie down now, and sleep for a while.  We go again in the steam-carriage to-night.”

Cherry climbed upon the bed without reply, and in a moment was fast asleep.  The Italian drew the coverings about her, and stooped to kiss the pale cheek, where showed already a dark circle beneath the eye, and a painful contraction at the corner of the mouth.

“Poveracita!” murmured he.  “But soon we will have money enough to go home to the father-land, and then all will be well with her as with me.”

Three hours later, he came to arouse the child, and prepare her to renew the journey.

“Oh, I am so tired!  I want to sleep some more so bad, ’Varny!-no, my father, I mean.  I don’t want to go somewhere,” said she piteously, closing her eyes, and struggling to lay her head again upon the pillow.  Giovanni hesitated for a moment; and then, never knowing that the decision was one of life and death, the question of a whole future career, he determined to pursue his plan in spite of that plaintive entreaty, and, hastily wrapping a shawl about the child, took her in his arms, and carried her down stairs.  The organ and Pantalon waited in the hall below; and Giovanni, setting Cherry upon her feet, shouldered the organ and, taking the little girl by the hand, led her out into the quiet street, where lay the light of a full moon, making the night more beautiful than day.  Cherry’s drowsy eyes flew wide open; and, looking up in Giovanni’s face with eager joy, she cried,—­

“Oh! now we’re going back to heaven; aren’t we, my father?  It was bright and still like this in heaven; and I saw a star, and-and then the naughty lady struck me”—­

“Peace, little one!  I know not of what you speak, nor any thing of heaven,” said the Italian in a troubled voice; and the child, hurrying along at his side, raised her face silently to the summer sky, seeking there, perhaps, the answer to the questions forever stirring in her struggling soul.