uite an event, and all the town knew of it without its being
announced by beat of drum. Apprentice boys, and children of poor
people, and even some of the poor people themselves, stood in front of
the house, and looked at the lighted curtain; and the watchman could
fancy that _he_ was giving a party, so many people were in the
streets. There was quite an air of festivity about, and in the house
was festivity also, for Mr. Alfred the sculptor was there.

He talked, and told anecdotes, and all listened to him with pleasure
and a certain kind of awe; but none felt such respect for him as did
the elderly widow of an official: she seemed, so far as Mr. Alfred was
concerned, like a fresh piece of blotting paper, that absorbed all
that was spoken, and asked for more. She was very appreciative, and
incredibly ignorant--a kind of female Caspar Hauser.

"I should like to see Rome," she said. "It must be a lovely city, with
all the strangers who are continually arriving there. Now, do give us
a description of Rome. How does the city look when you come in by the
gate?"

"I cannot very well describe it," replied the sculptor. "A great open
place, and in the midst of it an obelisk, which is a thousand years
old."

"An organist!" exclaimed the lady, who had never met with the word
_obelisk_. A few of the guests could hardly keep from laughing, nor
could the sculptor quite keep his countenance; but the smile that rose
to his lips faded away, for he saw, close by the inquisitive dame, a
pair of dark blue eyes--they belonged to the daughter of the speaker,
and any one who has such a daughter cannot be silly! The mother was
like a fountain of questions, and the daughter, who listened, but
never spoke, might pass for the beautiful Naiad of the fountain. How
charming she was! She was a study for the sculptor to contemplate, but
not to converse with; and, indeed, she did not speak, or only very
seldom.

"Has the Pope a large family?" asked the lady.

And the young man considerately answered, as if the question had been
better put, "No, he does not come of a great family."

"That's not what I mean," the widow persisted. "I mean, has he a wife
and children?"

"The Pope is not allowed to marry," said the gentleman.

"I don't like that," was the lady's comment.

She certainly might have put more sensible questions; but if she had
not spoken in just the manner she used, would her daughter have leant
so gracefully on her shoulder, loo