"Is that so? Is that so?" replied the professor, in a propitiatory tone. "But I said nothing about her, you know. A most charming woman. A perfect beauty. So she is your hostess? Well, well, well!"
"There is His Grace, the bishop!" cried the heavy voice of Lady Crimmetart, as she passed by, hurrying toward the entrance.
Johannes was on the qui vive for the white mitre and the gilded crozier, but he could see only a tall, ordinary gentleman in a black suit, and wearing gaiters. He had a smooth, good-looking face, that bore an affected smile; and in his hand he held a curious, flat hat, the brim of which was held up with cords, as if otherwise it might droop down over his nose. Lady Crimmetart received him quite as warmly as Aunt Seréna received the dominie. How Johannes wished he was still at his Aunt Seréna's!
"Sir!" said some one at his ear, "Milady wishes to know if you have brought your instrument, and if you will not begin now."
Johannes looked round, in a fright. He saw a portly personage with an upstroked moustache, in black satin short-clothes, and a red coat—evidently a master of ceremonies.
"I have no instrument," stammered Johannes. But he did have his castanets in his pocket. "I cannot do anything," he repeated—most miserable.
The pompous one glanced right and left, as if he had made some mistake. Then he stepped away a moment, to return soon, accompanied by Countess Dolores.
"What is it, my dear Johannes?" said the countess. "You must not disappoint us."
"But, Mevrouw, I really cannot."