Page:The Novels and Tales of Henry James, Volume 1 (New York, Charles Scribner's Sons, 1907).djvu/284

 crying about her. She had an Italian nurse who was very fond of her and insisted that she would grow up pretty. I could n't believe her, I used to contradict her, and we were for ever squabbling. I was just a little foolish in those days—surely I may say it now—and I was very fond of being amused. If my daughter was ugly, at least it was not that she resembled her mamma; I had, I don't mind telling you, no lack of amusement. People accused me, I believe, of neglecting my little girl; if I ever did I 've made up for it since. One day I went to drive on the Pincio—I was in very low spirits. A certain person—I need n't name him—had trifled with a confidence—a confidence that I had in short placed: oh my dear, but placed! While I was there he passed me in a carriage, driving with a horrible woman who had made trouble between us. I got out of my carriage to walk about and at last sat down on a bench. I can show you the spot at this hour. While I sat there a child came wandering along the path—a little girl of four or five, very fantastically dressed, in all the colours of the rainbow. She stopped in front of me and stared at me, and I stared at her queer little dress, which was a cheap imitation of the costume of one of these contadine. At last I looked up at her face and said to myself: 'Bless me, what a beautiful child! what a splendid pair of eyes, what a magnificent head of hair! If my poor little Christina were only like that!' The child turned away slowly, but looking back with its eyes fixed on me. All of a sudden I gave a cry, pounced on it, pressed it in my arms, covered it with kisses. It was 250