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Updated: June 10, 2025
"Either Flora or I sing it almost every moonlight night." She sang it in very pure Italian. Then turning round on the music-stool she looked at her father, and said, "Now, Papasito querido, what shall I sing for you?" "You know, dear, what I always love to hear," answered he. With gentle touch, she drew from the keys a plaintive prelude, which soon modulated itself into "The Light of other Days."
We will pack them carefully and leave them with Madame Guirlande; and when we get settled abroad, in some nice little cottage, we will send for them. But when you have been in Paris, when you have seen the world and the world has seen you, perhaps you won't be contented to live in a cottage with your old Papasito.
She stood awhile on the veranda, thinking sadly, "If Gerald loves me as Papasito loved Mamita, how can he be contented to leave me so much?" With a deep sigh she turned and entered the house through an open window. The sigh changed at once to a bright smile. The parlor had undergone a wondrous transformation since she last saw it.
Who is this new Mamita that you speak of?" "O, it was wonderful how she came to me when I had the greatest need of a friend," answered Flora. "You must know that she and Papasito were in love with each other when they were young; and she is in love with his memory now. I sometimes think his spirit led her to me.
I heard your father say he was a very good young man, and rich." "But Papasito said, some months ago, that Mr. King had gone to Europe with his mother, on account of her health," replied Rosa. "Besides, if he were at home, it would be very disagreeable to go to a young gentleman as beggars and runaways, when he was introduced to us as ladies."
Thus exhorted, they rose and began to make preparations for departure. But all at once the tender good-night of the preceding evening rushed on Rosa's memory, and she sank down in a paroxysm of grief. After weeping bitterly for some minutes, she sobbed out, "O, this is worse than it was when Mamita died. Papasito was so tender with us then; and now we are all alone."
"Not all alone," responded Madame. "Jesus and the Blessed Virgin are with you." "O, I don't know where they are!" exclaimed Flora, in tones of wild agony. "I want my Papasito! I want to die and go to my Papasito." Rosabella folded her in her arms, and they mingled their tears together, as she whispered: "Let us try to be tranquil, Sistita. We must not be troublesome to our kind friend.
"You will realize how long it has been when you see my children," rejoined Flora. "My oldest, Alfred Royal, is fitting for college. He is the image of cher Papa; and you will see how Mamita Lila doats upon him. She must have loved Papasito very much.
Rosabella was obviously agitated, but she readily replied, "Do you suppose, Papasito, that we would accept a lover without asking you about it? When Mamita querida died, she charged us to tell you everything; and we always do."
And when we get to France, Papasito will go everywhere with us. He says he will." "I should like to hear operas and see ballets in Paris," said Rosabella; "but I wish we could come back here before long." Floracita's laughing eyes assumed the arch expression which rendered them peculiarly bewitching, and she began to sing, "Petit blanc, mon bon frère! Ha! ha! petit blanc si doux!
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