CHAPTER II.
AT THE CONTESSA'S FETE—A ROMANTIC ADVENTURE BETWEEN CERTAIN OLD FRIENDS.
The most brilliant fête of the year was that given by the rich Contessa Maraviglia at her palazzo.
All the rank and fashion of the land were there.
The palazzo itself was a building of great beauty, and stood in grounds of great extent.
The contessa, who was a widow, had a princely fortune, and she spent it lavishly too.
Upon the night of the masquerade the gardens were brilliantly lighted.
Upon the miniature lake there was a fairy gondola, with a coloured lantern dangling at the prow, and hung with curtains of pale blue silk gauze.
In this gondola a lady was seated.
She had taken to the gondola, not alone for the sake of the freshness of the breeze upon the water, but to read without interruption a letter she had received from a mysterious man who professed to be deeply smitten with her charms, and who, the messenger of love let fall, was a prince.
She wore a black domino, but was not masked, for as she threw back its folds to breathe more freely, you could see that her only veil was a thick fall of black lace, fastened to a high comb in the back of her head.
"I hope he will not be long," said she to herself, while her heart beat high with expectation. "His note says clearly enough on the lake in the fairy gondola. Well, it will certainly be nice to be a princess, but I do hope that his highness may prove to be a dashing, handsome youth, such as a Cinderella might sigh for. Hush, boatman!"
"Lady?"
"Do you hear?"
"Someone singing on the bank yonder? Yes! I hear, lady."
"Row that way."
A voice was heard carolling gently the serenade—"Fair shines the moon to-night."
The voice meant well, evidently, but something rather spoilt the effect.
It was not altogether in tune, nor had the singer the best idea in the world of time.
Perhaps his singing was spoilt by excess of love.
Perhaps by liquor.
The latter idea was suggested by a certain unsteadiness that would appear to indicate both love and liquor.
Be that as it may, the singer was not at all aware of the disadvantages under which he laboured.
On the contrary, he had the greatest belief in himself.
"Boatman," exclaimed the lady, impatiently, "row me ashore."
"Yes, lady."
He obeyed, as he spoke, and as the boat grounded, the hidden minstrel stepped forward.
The gallant was rather a tall man, masked and habited in a long cloak, which almost concealed a glittering and gorgeous costume beneath.
This cavalier hastened to tender the lady his hand and to assist her to disembark.
As soon as she was fairly upon terra firma the gentleman led her away to a more secluded part of the garden, and then ensued a brief but highly interesting conversation.
It took place in the Italian language.
That beautiful tongue was not to say elegantly spoken upon either side.
The gentleman spoke as a foreigner, but imperfectly acquainted with the idiom.
"Sir," said the lady, after an embarrassing silence upon his part, "I scarcely know if I ought to be here."
"Nor I either, my dear lady," began the gallant.
But then, aware that this was not exactly what might have been expected of him, he stammered and broke down.
"Poor prince," thought the lady, with a very unladylike chuckle to herself. "How embarrassed he is."
The cavalier stared at her through the great eyes in his mask, as he muttered to himself—
"She is evidently in love with me very badly; I am curious to learn how a princess makes love. I am anxious only of course to study it as a matter of curiosity."
"I ought not to have come here, prince," said the lady, in a nervous tone.
Prince!
The word made the masked gentleman stare.
"Prince! I suppose that she can't know I am a married man, and goes straight to the question. This is popping the question sharply."
He had never been made love to before by a lady of any degree, much less by a princess, so he was exceedingly anxious to see how she would begin upon this occasion.
But after they had got to a quiet and remote part of the garden, they came to a dead lock.
Not a word was spoken upon either side.
"I wish he would say something to me," thought the lady.
She was not used to such bashful suitors.
"I have kept your appointment, sir," she said, "although I fear I am very wrong."
"My appointment," muttered the cavalier in English, "Come, I like that."
However, he added in the softest tones he could assume—
"Fear nothing, princess, I am not a dangerous man."
She thought he was, though, for as he said this he chuckled.
The lady dropped her eyes before his bold glance and looked as timid as you could wish.
Now this appeared only to encourage the gentleman, for he seized her round the waist and pressed a kiss upon the only part of her cheek which was left uncovered by her veil.
She struggled feebly, oh, very feebly to release herself; but that libertine masker held her firmly; that is, as firmly as possible, for he was not very strong upon his pins.
"Sir, you must not take advantage of my unprotected situation," she faltered.
"I should be very sorry to, my coy princess," said the gallant.
These words set her heart beating like clockwork.
"He means well," she thought, growing quite easy in her mind.
Meanwhile the ardent young lover, growing bolder by encouragement, wanted to remove her veil.
"Grant me one favour, my princess," he said. "Let me bask in the sunshine of your eyes; let me feast my vision upon your rare beauty."
The lady was enraptured at such poetical imagery.
"It sounds like a lovely book," she murmured in ecstasy.
But she would not accede to his request.
She was so filled with joy, so supremely happy, that she feared to break the enchanting spell by any accident.
"Desist, prince," she said, struggling gently in his embrace,
"I must gaze on that angelic face," said the passionate Adonis.
"Why," exclaimed the lady, "since you know it so well?"
"Know it!" exclaimed the gallant in surprise.
"Yes."
"I have never seen it."
"Yet your letter praises each feature to the skies."
"My letter!"
He was staggered evidently.
"Undoubtedly."
"I sent no letter."
The lady was amazed "If you sent no letter, why are you here?" she demanded.
"In obedience to yours," responded the gallant.
"My what?"
"Your note—your ever-to-be-treasured missive," gushed the swain.
Now what would have followed in the way of explanations it is impossible to say, for at the momentous crisis, a voice close by was heard repeating softly a couplet heard before—
"Dear Marietta,
Never had been
A sweeter or neater
Face or form seen."
The lady started and screamed, and would have fallen had not the protecting arm of the gentleman been there to catch her.
But her veil fell aside.
When the lover saw her face, he was staggered, and he nearly let her fall.
"Marietta!" he exclaimed, "Marietta! Mrs. Harkaway's maid, by all that's wonderful."
"Oho," screamed the lady, "you're standing on my toe!" saying which she jerked herself back, and dragging his foot away too, down he went.
"It's Mr. Mole," shrieked the lady; and catching up her pink skirt and black lace flounces, she fled precipitately along the path, leaving her admirer scrambling in the most undignified manner upon the gravel walk.
Poor Mr. Mole.
But oh, poor Marietta; how sadly was she disappointed with her prince.