's beaming countenance, so scrubbed and shiny, the
white hair so symmetrically arranged upon his forehead in little
curls--his whole appearance so neat and trim.

"Is it permitted to enter?" he asked, smiling blandly at the marchesa,
as, leaning upon his stick, he made her a ceremonious bow.

"Yes, Cesarino, yes, you may enter," she replied, stiffly. "I cannot
very well send you away now--but you deserve it."

"Why, most distinguished lady?" again asked Trenta, submissively,
closing the door, and advancing to where she sat. He bent down his
head and kissed her hand, then smiled at Enrica. "What have I done?"

"Done? You know you never came last night at all. I missed my game of
whist. I do not sleep well without it."

"But, marchesa," pleaded Trenta, in the gentlest voice, "I am
desolated, as you can conceive--desolated; but what could I do?
Yesterday was the festival of the Holy Countenance, that solemn
anniversary that brings prosperity to our dear city!" And the
cavaliere cast up his mild blue eyes, and crossed himself upon the
breast. "I was most of the day in the cathedral. Such a service!
Better music than last year. In the evening I had promised to arrange
the cotillon at Countess Orsetti's ball. As chamberlain to his late
highness the Duke of Lucca, it is expected of me to organize every
thing. One can leave nothing to that animal Baldassare--he has no
head, no system; he dances well, but like a machine. The ball was
magnificent--a great success," he continued, speaking rapidly, for
he saw that a storm was gathering on the marchesa's brow, by the
deepening of the wrinkles between her eyes. "A great success. I took a
few turns myself with Teresa Ottolini--tra la la la la," and he swayed
his head and shoulders to and fro as he hummed a waltz-tune.

"_You_!" exclaimed the marchesa, staring at him with a look of
contempt--"_you_!"

"Yes. Why not? I am as young as ever, dear marchesa--eighty, the prime
of life!"

"The festival of the Holy Countenance and the cotillon!" cried the
marchesa, with great indignation. "Tell me nothing about the Orsetti
ball. I won't listen to it. Good Heavens!" she continued, reddening,
"I am thirty years younger than you are, but I left off dancing
fifteen years ago. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Cesarino!"

Cesarino only smiled at her benignantly in reply. She had called him
a fool so often! He seated himself beside her without speaking. He had
come prepared to entertai