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This, till he came to the cage containing the latest addition to his troupe, a large cinnamon bear, which was rocking restlessly to and fro and grumbling to itself. The bear was one which had been long in captivity and well trained. Tomaso had found him docile, and clever enough to be admitted at once to the performing troupe. But to-night the beast's eyes were red with some ill-humor.
"Mother has gone to see Aunt Luisa. Have you your fortune in your pocket?" He came up the steps and leant against the trellis, looking down at her. She could not see his face, but a woman does not always need to do that. "What is it Tomaso?" she asked gravely.
"Of your fortune?" inquired Rosa, looking at the cup she was drying with the air of superior knowledge which so completely puzzled the simple Tomaso. "Yes," he answered, slowly turning on his heel as if to continue his journey. "And then ?" asked Rosa. He looked up inquiringly. "When you have made sure of your precious fortune?" she explained.
Erect upon its hind legs, and with a musket on its shoulder, it marched ponderously and slowly around the circle, eying each of the sitting beasts except the wolf suspiciously as it passed. The watchful eyes of both Signor Tomaso and Hansen noted that it gave wider berth to the puma than to any of the others, and also that the puma's ears, at the moment, were ominously flattened.
Tomaso Giordani, another Italian, composed at her request the old familiar tune "Cambridge," for the hymn in the Countess's book commencing, "Father, how wide Thy glory shines!"
Sitting beneath the fig-tree, Tomaso looked up suddenly towards the mill. He was so much accustomed to the roar of his own mill-stream that his ears never heeded it, and heard through it softer and more distant sounds. He heard something now the regular beat of trotting horses on the road far above his home.
If it was a desperate stroke, he jumped out of its reach. If a light one, he turned it off upon the edge of his own weapon. In this way he worked upon Toro to such an extent that the Italian's temper got the mastery of him. Tomaso was attacking him so closely that the Italian looked like losing the battle. Toro was bleeding from a dozen small flesh wounds.
Fatigued by the long, rough automobile ride, that young engineer had dropped fast asleep in the broad porch rocker. "Your friend is much fatigued," spoke Don Luis, with fine consideration. "If you deem it best, Senor Tomaso, we will arouse him and he shall go to his room for an hour's sleep before the evening meal."
A general cheer greeted this speech. "Tomaso! Tomaso!" they cried; "Tomaso for leader!" Toro's face flushed blood red.
Did not I dream that the good captain would bring pink silk stockings? and are they not my own this minute?" And she thrust a diminutive foot from beneath the hem of her gown, regarding it with admiration. "And did not I dream that Tomaso and Liseta would marry? What was thy dream, my Chonita?" "I do not know what the first part was; something very sad.
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