“‘Con grandissimo piacere’! We shall speak Venetian, shall we not?”
“Certainly.”
“‘E viva’! I cannot learn French.”
“M. Querini is in the same position,” said M. Memmo.
After half an hour’s agreeable conversation he left us, and Marcoline embraced me with delight at having made such a good impression on these gentlemen.
“Put on your best dress to-morrow,” said I, “and do not forget your jewels. Be agreeable to everybody, but pretend not to see your Uncle Mattio, who will be sure to wait at table.”
“You may be sure I shall follow your advice to the letter.”
“And I mean to make the recognition a scene worthy of the drama. I intend that you shall be taken back to Venice by M. Querini himself, while your uncle will take care of you by his special orders.”
“I shall be delighted with this arrangement, provided it succeeds.”
“You may trust to me for that.”