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Updated: June 11, 2025
Perhaps your heads will become so turned with flattery, that you will want to be at balls and operas all the time." "No flattery will be so sweet as yours, cher papa," said Floracita. "No indeed!" exclaimed Rosa. But, looking up, she met his eye, and blushed crimson. She was conscious of having already listened to flattery that was at least more intoxicating than his.
How like a satyr he looked while he was talking to me about their being slaves. It seems he got sight of them when they took an inventory of the furniture. And that handsome little witch, Floracita, whom her father loved so tenderly, to think of her being bid off to some such filthy wretch! But they sha'n't have 'em! They sha'n't have 'em! I swear I'll shoot any man that comes to take 'em."
After a brief interchange of salutations, he said to Floracita, "I heard some notes of a lively little French tune, that went so trippingly I should be delighted to hear more of it." Floracita had accidentally overheard some half-whispered words which Mr.
Fitzgerald, I should have gone to the opera and seen you as Norma." "Very likely we should both have fainted," rejoined Rosa, "and then the manager would have refused to let La Campaneo try her luck again. But what is this, Floracita?" "That is a group on Monte Pincio," she replied. "I sketched it when I was shut up in my room, the day before you came out in the opera."
A lamp was burning in the farther part of the room, and Madame Guirlande, who sat there in spectacles and ruffled cap, made a grotesque black shadow on the wall. Floracita started up, screaming, "What is that?" Madame Guirlande went to her, and she and Rosa spoke soothingly, and soon she remembered all. "O, let me go home with you" she said to Madame "I am afraid to stay here."
The moment he entered the room, he exclaimed, "Why, Floracita!" "So you knew me?" she said, clasping his hand warmly. "To be sure I did," he answered. "You are the same little fairy that danced in the floral parlor." "O, I'm a sober matron now," said she, with a comic attempt to look demure about the mouth, while her eyes were laughing.
Floracita is such a very pretty name, and I have always liked it so much, that I spoke it before I thought." The compliment disarmed her at once; and with one of her winning smiles, and a quick little courtesy, she said: "Do you think it's a pretty name? You may call me Floracita, if you like it so much." "I think it is the prettiest name in the world," replied he.
"Bon soir, cher papa" said Floracita, kissing her father's hand. "Buenas noches, Papasito querido" said Rosabella, as she touched his cheek with her beautiful lips. There was moisture in his eyes as he folded them to his heart and said, "God bless you! God protect you, my dear ones!"
"Cher papa, how long before we shall go to Paris?" inquired Floracita. "In two or three weeks, I hope," was the reply. "Won't it be delightful!" exclaimed she. "You will take us to see ballets and everything."
Floracita, stunned by the blow that had fallen on her so suddenly, and rendered drowsy by the anodyne she had taken, soon fell into an uneasy slumber, broken by occasional starts and stifled sobs. Rosabella wept silently, but now and then a shudder passed over her, that showed how hard she was struggling with grief. After a short time, Flora woke up bewildered.
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