added, with a triumphant air of conclusiveness. "But never mind; you couldn't know. What is your name?"
He rubbed his hand over his knitted brow, then looked at her blankly and said, "Ah, child, what is it?"
It was not that he did not often remember his name well enough; and if he had had presence of mind now to remember it, he would have chosen not to tell it. But a sudden question appealing to his memory, had a paralyzing effect, and in that moment he was conscious of nothing but helplessness.
Ignorant as Tessa was, the pity stirred in her by his blank look taught her to say,
"Never mind: you are a stranger, it is no matter about your having a name. Good-by now, because I want my breakfast. You will come here and rest when you like; Monna Lisa says you may. And don't you be unhappy, for we'll be good to you."
"Poor thing!" said Baldassarre again.
