“You mean the public masquerades—at the theatre, perhaps?”
“Just so; should you like to go to one?”
“To be sure I should, of all things!” cried Hildegarde, eagerly. “When is it?”
“To-night.”
Her countenance fell. “Oh, if we had only known it sooner. If we had only been able to ask papa!”
“There! I told you,” cried Madame Berger, coming out of the kitchen, followed by the others, “I knew she would make all sort of difficulties, and spoil Crescenz’s pleasure!”
“I am sure,” said Madame Lustig, “neither your father nor mother would have any objection; when I go with you, and Madame Berger, and Mr. Hamilton.”
“It is true mamma said I was to do whatever you desired me——” began Hildegarde, with some hesitation.
“Oh, I will command your attendance, if that will be any relief to your conscience,” cried Madame Lustig, with a loud laugh.
Hildegarde coloured deeply, and looked towards Hamilton; he was eating almonds and raisins from a plate, which Madame Berger held towards him. “Let us talk about our masks, and not about our consciences,” cried the latter. “I must go home to dinner, or the Doctor will be impatient. We are to be black bats; black silk dresses; black dominoes, with hanging sleeves, and hoods; masks half black, and a knot of white ribbon under the chin, that we may know each other. How many dominoes shall I order?”