“Well, then, the Doctor must lend his old greys, for on Monday both she and your father must be out of the way. Don’t be so stupid as to say this to Hildegarde, however!”
“Oh, mamma will never trust us with you alone,” said Crescenz.
“I suspected as much, and have engaged old Lustig to go with us; she will do whatever we please, and I have promised to arrange a ‘bat’ for her like my own; we will all go as bats. Shall we be black or white?”
“Which is the most becoming?” asked Crescenz.
“Becoming! why, child, I do believe you don’t know what I mean. A bat as mask means a domino so arranged that one cannot see even the form of the head, the smallest lock of hair, or even quite know whether the person be a man or woman.”
“I thought we should have had something pretty,” said Crescenz, disappointed, “such as Grecian costumes.”
“You may dress yourself as a Greek or a Turk, if you like, but you may be recognised and tormented. For my part, I go to worry others, and have decided on a black domino—a complete capuchin; Mr. Hamilton and Madame Lustig the same; you and Hildegarde may of course arrange as you please.”
“Oh, dear! I am afraid Hildegarde will not go without asking papa’s leave.”
“Don’t say a word more about the matter to her; she will think we have forgotten it, and—when papa and mamma are gone, I will come and arrange everything.”
“Oh, dear, how nice!” cried Crescenz, seating herself confidentially beside her friend, but a moment after she sprang up, assumed a dignified air, and walked towards the door.