And it was true that Miss Senter had always thought that her chief gondolier possessed a great deal of natural refinement.
"Will the signorina step out for a moment and look at him?" pursued the deputy, her whisper now a little dejected. "If he is to be disappointed, poor fellow, may he at least have that pleasure?"
The idea of the gondolier's disappointment touched the amiable American. She turned her head and glanced into the drawing-room; all was going on gayly; no one had missed her. She slipped out under the portière, and followed Carmela to a room at the side. Here stood the gondolier. He wore the usual white dress and white mask of a clown, and, as the Consuless entered, he cut a splendid caper, ringing all his bells.
"I had no idea that you were such a skilful acrobat, Ercole," said his mistress.
Ercole turned a light somerset, gave a high jump, and came down in the attitude of the Mercury of John of Bologna.
"Why, you are really wonderful!" said Miss Senter, admiringly.
And now he was dancing with butterfly grace.
Miss Senter was won. "But if I let you come in, Ercole, I hope you will remember where you are?" she said, warningly. "Can you breathe quite at ease in that mask?"
The gondolier opened his grotesque painted lips a little to show that he could part them.
"Yes, I see. Now listen; in the drawing-room you must keep your eye on me, and if at any time you see me raise my hand—so—you must dance out of the room, Ercole. For the sign will mean that that is enough. But, dear me! there's one thing we haven't thought of; who is to see to the musicians up-stairs, and to go back and forth, telling them what to play?"