Little Bianca's father, or possibly her grandfather, must have
been some such Jem, Jack, or Bob "of the Foundlings," and left no
other patronymic to his race.
Quinto Lalli fell in with the child one day in the dirty and
miserable little town of Acquapendente, just on the Roman side of
the frontier line dividing the Papal territory from Tuscany, as he
was travelling from Florence to Rome. He was travelling by the
diligence, which always used to remain a good hour or more at
Acquapendente, for the transaction of passport and dogana work.
There, strolling, for want of something better to do, through the
dilapidated streets of the poverty-stricken little town,--which in
those days told the traveller most unmistakably how great was the
difference between prosperous Tuscany, which he had just left, and
the wretched Pope's-land which he was entering--Quinto Lalli heard a
child's voice, and instantly stopped and pricked up his ears.
Looking round, he saw a little creature, barely clad, happy amid the
surrounding squalor, sitting with its little bare feet and legs
dabbling in the sparkling water in the broken marble tank of a once
magnificent fountain. There she sate alone in the sunshine, and
carolled, with wide-opened throat, like any other nature-made
songster.
Quinto Lalli, with startled ear, listened attentively; got round to
where he could see the child's face; marked well, with knowing eye,
the little brown feet and legs bare to the knee; and then determined
to abandon the fare paid for the remainder of his diligence journey
to Rome.
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