“It is certainly very wrong, but in my country young ladies are neither taught foreign languages nor round games. These important branches of education are attended to afterwards.”
“Then you are a Venetian, too?”
“Yes, madam.”
“Really, I should not have thought so.”
I made a bow in return for this compliment, which in reality was only an insult; for if flattering to me it was insulting to the rest of my fellow-countrymen, and Marcoline thought as much for she made a little grimace accompanied by a knowing smile.
“I see that the young lady understands French,” said our flattering friend, “she laughs exactly in the right place.”
“Yes, she understands it, and as for her laughter it was due to the fact that she knows me to be like all other Venetians.”
“Possibly, but it is easy to see that you have lived a long time in France.”
“Yes, madam,” said Marcoline; and these words in her pretty Venetian accent were a pleasure to hear.
The gentleman who had taken the lady to her room said that she found her foot to be rather swollen, and had gone to bed hoping we would all come upstairs.