Once outside, she ran towards the playground, and the grotto, a miniature limestone version of the manor, which was in itself a miniature of a fortress. There were always parrots and parrakeets screaming in the fruit groves. "I am—I am!" cried the widow, snatching the babe, and pressing it to her breast with rapturous delight "God be thanked, I have found it!" "We have both good reason to be grateful," added the lady, with great emotion. The stranger looked at him as if strongly disposed to chastise his impertinence. But in his presence a wall of diffidence and timidity encompassed her. His name was Bartolomeo di Alberti.
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