“When will you go?” said he, dryly, and taking out his memorandum-book to write.
“What says Mr. Jekyl?” said Lady Hester, turning to that bland personage, who, without apparently attending to what went forward, had heard every syllable of it.
“This is Tuesday,” said Jekyl. “There 's not much to be done; the villa wants for nothing: I know it perfectly.”
“Ah, it's comfortable, then?” said the Prince, with a slight degree of animation.
“La Rocca is all that Contarete's taste could make it,” replied Jekyl.
“Poor Contarete! he was an excellent maitre d'hotel,” said Midchekoff. “He's still with me, somewhere; I rather believe in Tartary, just now.”
“Your Ladyship may leave this on Thursday,” said Jekyl, who well knew that he was paying the most flattering compliment to Midchekoff in naming the shortest possible time for preparation.
“Will this be inconvenient, Prince?” asked Lady Hester.
“No; not in the least. If Jekyl will precede you by a couple of hours, I trust all will be ready.”
“With your permission, then, we will say Thursday,” said she, who, with her habitual delight in novelty, was already wild with pleasure at the whole scheme.