“You—a lady abbess?”
“Yes. Don’t I look austere?” prattles Miss Happiness. “Perhaps, though, I would have changed my mind. I was getting tired of the prayer-book already. But now I think no more of midnight vigils—oh, Guido mio—tell me it is not a dream.”
“I’ll do more—I’ll prove it!” whispers Guy, and rises from the table.
He looks as if he would like to make love again. And perhaps being very willing for him to have his way in this matter, the young lady gives a signal to her two Moorish girls who have waited upon them, as Chester [[219]]and Hermoine pass from the dining-room to the other apartment, the curtains fall behind them, and they are alone.
“Come into the window; we’ll have moonlight later,” remarks the young lady. And somehow they find themselves side by side looking over the soft waves of the Schelde, a gentle summer breeze coming in upon them from the open casement. “Would you like music?” suggests the lady.
“Your voice is enough for me.”
“Oh,” cries Hermoine, “I play the mandolin; I’ve some accomplishments. Besides I can dance the cachuca and the bolero. To-morrow evening I’ll have entertainment for thee. My Moorish girls play the harp and guitar, and I’ll invite De Busaco over.”
“Invite no one, please.”
“Not even little De Busaco, who would not believe you were dead?”
“No.”